“I want to remind you again why we are all running.”
Four months into our training for a 26.2 mile race, no reminder seems necessary. But it is.
More than 70 of us are gathered on a zoom call as part of Team Reeve, runners from around the world supporting the Christopher and Dana Reeve foundation. Kelly Lamb, one of our coaches, reminds us of the stakes, sharing stories, pictures, and videos of amazing work that’s being done to develop therapies and cures for spinal cord injuries.
The wisdom is clear: whatever we are doing in our lives, whatever task we are devoting ourselves to, whatever mitzvah we are engaged in, it’s important to remain aware of the purpose of those efforts. It is a type of Kavanah—an intention that guides us and focuses us.
Jacqueline, Naomi, and I are running in memory of Henry Hantgan, beloved father, father-in-law, and grandfather. He spent the last ten years of his life in a wheelchair and we are raising money to support research that will lead to cures and therapies for millions of people around the world. That’s why we run.
On Sunday, it is possible (likely even) that my body will tell me from time to time that this was all a bad idea. Better to have stood on the sidelines cheering than to have attempted to run 26.2 miles. My 52-year-old knees, hips, and back certainly have not appreciated the mileage I’ve put on them.
What I hope and pray will get us to the finish line though is the intention we set, reset, and remind ourselves of step-by-step: there is a higher purpose to our training and our efforts.
One of my favorite Jewish customs is the tradition of saying these words before joining a minyan (a prayer quorum): “Behold – I accept upon myself the commandment of my Creator ‘to love your neighbor as yourself.’”
Before gathering as a community to worship, our tradition invites us to remember the reason we pray in community: it’s part of what it means to love the other. It is for a higher purpose, what some sages consider to be the most important commandment of the Torah.
We are urged to reflect on the ultimate meaning of our actions.
Remember why you’re running.
— Rabbi Yoshi Zweiback
