One Fortune Cookie; Countless Lessons
I opened my fortune cookie with expected sluggishness. What would this arbitrary piece of wisdom within this shtikl mezonos (piece of baked goods) tell me I didn’t already know? To be sure, I know very little. But, a fortune cookie? Platitude upon cliche. Meh.
And then, something miraculous took place. I cracked the cookie open and inside was not one sliver of white paper with my destiny inscribed but two! Two slivers of paper! And they were attached together ever so gently by the seams. (Have you ever heard of such a thing?!) I was dumbfounded.
“How many notes are inside your cookie?” I asked my dinner partner.
He looked at me concerned. One, there’s only one. There’s always only one.
What could this possibly mean, this joining of fates so close to my dinner plate?
Of course, you’re curious what the fortunes’ sentiments were. Worry not; we’ll get there.
The presence of two fates reminded me of an idea from the writings of Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, a leading Talmudist, Orthodox teacher and Jewish philosopher of the 20th Century.
Soloveitchik writes about the concept of a “covenant of fate” and a “covenant of destiny” that the Jewish people carry. Fate: this is Egypt, the perils the people Israel face simply because they are Jews, inescapable, undeniable. Destiny: this is Sinai, the forming of a new covenant, the possibility we face as individuals by manifesting our own free will.
Was that why I got my two slivers? To remind me, as my new book, Butterfly (get your copy today), hints: “it’s all in your hands.” Agency and human choice is fundamental to our faith as Jews. Nu, so go ahead and pick your paper, pick your poison? Chart your future, Mlotek!
Too much theorizing and pontification perhaps for a light dessert.
“Your endeavors will look fruitful,” said the top sliver.
“This month, you’ll experience moments of deep insight,” said tweedle dum.
I should certainly hope so! May it be Jah’s will, I pray.
It is nearly the Hebrew month of Nisan, where the ancient Israelites experienced redemption for the first time in our timeless Passover story. (It also happens to be my birthday month. Let’s go Aries babies!). As Rebbe Nachman of Bretzlov taught: “the Exodus takes place always: in every generation, in every hour, in every minute.” Yes, redemption is always possible, as constant as the myriad of choices before us.
I am lucky (or destined?) to have been a patron at this dinner of a fine fusion of Asian foods for reminding me these timeless truths.
Regardless, the cookie tasted the same.
אמן!