What's in a place? A physical geography? An emotional space? A temporal location?

At this time, we are physically isolated from one another. Some of us are confined to a single room or an otherwise small, boundaried location. Our social interactions are cut off or severely restricted. Our regular physical spaces of gathering - a friend’s living room, a synagogue, a JCC, or even a special place in nature - are no longer options. They are closed to us, not as punishment, but as prevention.

But this place. Where you sit. Where I sit. Your place and my place. Our place is the place. HAMAKOM.

"Mah norah HAMAKOM hazeh," said Jacob, as he awakened with an awed understanding of the holiness surrounding him in that place. It is an exclamation of wonder, pride, and a hint of fear. There was power in that place.

In many texts, HAMAKOM is also a synonym for God, or if you prefer, divinity. Or faith. Or other things that exist in a space outside of physical location. While a single place cannot contain the entirety of holiness, perhaps holiness itself can be envisioned as a place.

The traditional Haggadah contains a song: “Barukh HAMAKOM she’natan Torah,” Blessed is HAMAKOM, that gave us Torah. Another word for God is HaShem, the Name, a word that spoken invokes presence and familiarity. But here--here in this space between the lines of the Haggadah, here on this night--we speak not of the Name, but of the Place. We must remember not just who we were, but where we were when we received the Torah.

In consoling a mourner while visiting them during the shiva period of mourning, we often use the phrase “HAMAKOM yinachem,” a wish for divine comfort that is also about the central emotional location of mourning, a spiritual space that is simultaneously outside and within community space. People come to a house of mourning, a physical space, to console, and then leave, while the mourner stays.

In thinking about Divinity as HAMAKOM, we get a sense of portability, a nimble pivoting from the physical to the spiritual. We are pivoting in so many areas of our life right now, establishing new routines, trying to infuse our familiar physical space with fresh inspiration, creativity, and meaning.

Wherever we go, there we are. We need to give ourselves and our community credit for the distance we have managed to cover, but acknowledge the ways in which our journeying is limited.

So let’s talk about the place that we do have. This imperfect, perfect, non-physical location. We may be physically distant, but are connected by blood, friendship, technology and destiny. We are here together now.

As we open our eyes and accept the holiness around us, we may do so with a mix of excitement and trepidation, awe and fear. Mah norah HAMAKOM hazeh - how awe-filled and awe-inspiring THIS place can be.


haggadah Section: Maggid - Beginning
Source: Original - by Esther Kustanowitz