It is 3:00 a.m. The 12-pound Havanese wakes up. The 76-pound Malamute wakes up. I wake up. I open the door and take the dogs out back. And I discover what woke us. The sprinkler system is on, and we are drenched.

By the time I struggle out of my pajamas and find a towel, the little dog has curled up on my pillow, and the big one is already asleep on his bed.

Sometimes when we walk out the door, we know exactly what we will find. And sometimes we find ourselves cast into a different world. A 3 a.m. world where the stars glitter above, the half moon is sinking down, water is raining up from the ground, and I am soaking wet.

And all I can think of is Abraham. Hearing the voice of God and venturing out into a world he did not expect. A world where his wife is temporarily taken to be someone else’s wife. A world where his nephew is kidnapped in the middle of a war, and must be rescued. A world where the Divine consults with him about destroying cities.

A world that is unexpected. Like finding yourself in Oz. Everything is wrong, a warped version of what is normal.

And yet, we go on. Abraham went on. He did his best.

It is 3 a.m., and I climb back into bed, having chosen a less desirable but much drier pillow. I do not think that I could be like Abraham, traveling from one incident to another, each changing and shaping his world.

And then I realize that is exactly where I am and who I have been. I have gone from one iteration of myself to another. Unexpected winds have blasted me. The flight of a bird overhead once changed my life’s direction.

I do not have the comfort of a living, walking, speaking God to stand beside me and bless me. I have only — at least for the moment — the softness of damp fur curled beside me, snoring quietly, reminding me that day will come all too soon, and I must sleep.

It is morning. Bright and breezy. I wonder about Abraham’s resilience, and my own. I say my morning prayers, bless God, and hope for a blessing in return.

Today I learn that people in my community are quietly disappearing into the hands of ICE. Families are being torn apart.

My friend Deacon Humberto Alvia is a Catholic clergyman whose voice breaks as he tells me about the suffering. His parishioners came looking for a promised land. They thought perhaps they had found it. Instead, it has turned into a nightmare.

He and others visited every synagogue in our area after October 7 to express their support for the Jewish community.

Today, I stepped forward to help lead an effort to visit every local Hispanic church in support of our immigrant community.

Perhaps resilience isn’t simply the ability to endure whatever unexpected world we find ourselves in. Perhaps, like Abraham, it is the willingness to step forward, even when we don’t know what lies ahead.

Sometimes we open the door and find ourselves drenched by the unexpected. And sometimes we open the door and discover that someone needs us.

The Jewish Open Tent has several great classes coming up:

Stories From the Talmud (starts soon!)

Adam’s Wives: Lilith & Eve

Threading the Needle: Clothing in Torah

Biblical Women Under the Radar

Tikkun Olam: Healing the World

Go to the website to learn more:

https://JewishOpenTent.com