Living your life with intention is not a simple thing. Too often we stumble through our days, reacting to the influences that bombard us and the impulses that drive us.

These influences and impulses are like hunger and thirst. They gnaw, demanding attention. Push them aside and their complaints only become louder and more insistent, until eventually we break down, give in, give up.

This week we read the story of Noah in the Torah. I’ve often wondered how introspective he was. Did he think about what he was doing as he built the ark? Did he contemplate the death and destruction that would accompany his voyage? He certainly had enough time for introspection. The Torah tells us that the building project took some 120 years.

The commentators tells us that he was lonely. But even during the flood itself he certainly wasn’t alone; he had his wife, three sons, and their wives around him.

And yet it is entirely possible to be lonely, even in a crowd, even surrounded by people who care about you. This is something I know all too well. On the surface I am friendly and outgoing. But I am still shy, even after many years of teaching, speaking, and leading congregations.

I have spent the past two weeks in a self-imposed isolation. I am recovering from a trauma; not physical but painful nevertheless.

I venture out when necessary, try to fulfill my commitments, but sometimes pull back and cancel. I will have one more week of rest and contemplation before my regular obligations begin again.

I just read a sermon by Rabbi Seth Goldstein in which he talked about the crisis of loneliness in our nation. He writes, “Dr. Vivek Murthy, the US Surgeon General, has made loneliness one of his signature issues and therefore a public health concern. He notes that social isolation can have a greater impact on one’s health than smoking 15 cigarettes a day, or having 6 drinks a day.”

The only antidote to loneliness is community. And yet, even knowing this and teaching others about the power of community, I sometimes fail to take advantage of the communities around me. I find myself buffeted by the outside and internal forces that prevent me from stepping into the warm embrace of people who cherish me.

Shabbat begins this evening, and once again I will step out of the darkness of isolation into the light of community. I will recite prayers with my fellow congregants, and bask in the warmth of the music.

I am at a moment in my life when I do not lead services, so I will find myself sitting among the crowd of fellow pray-ers.

May our prayers flow into one another’s hearts, and may our loneliness be dispelled, if only for an hour.

PS. Deep gratitude to those who have reached out. Please know that although I didn’t write an upbeat blog post this week, I’m really ok. I promise.