It was early morning on Chol Hamoed Pesach—the in-between days of Passover that carry both the freedom of the holiday and the calm of the everyday. As I woke, I made a deliberate choice to look up. The sky has always taught me things. Or at least reminded me of things that matter.
I could use some uplifting. After all, it’s a mitzvah to feel joy during the festival. So I allowed the sky to do its work.
Above me stretched a breathtaking techelet—a soft, Israeli blue, radiant and alive. Sure, scientists can explain it with atmosphere and light, but that morning it felt like something more. It was a harmony between sechel and regesh—between reason and feeling. Not money, not noise, not the day’s errands—but an inner light, a trace of G dliness.
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