The Juggler

I happened to see the ad in our local town, not by chance, but by total hashgachah (Divine Providence): “Juggler looking for venue to give classes to boys in the afternoon—discounts available for those hosting the class.” Wow, I thought. Juggling. right in my very own living room. The idea appealed to me very much, being that I seem to thrive in chaos. I always prided myself in that three ring circus ambiance our home seems to have, Baruch Hashem, and now I could have a bonafide  juggler thrown in for good measure! After doing a bit of a background check with my neighbor who runs a studio out of her house (and who offered a class of his for the younger crowd) I wasted no time in presenting the idea to our boys, whose wide rounded eyes confirmed what I already knew—juggling, here we come!

From then on, the juggler materialized weekly at our door bearing a striking resemblance to the Pied Piper of Hamlin. He came bearing an oversized black duffel filled with all the pertinent tools of the juggling trade. Behind him followed a number of boys, a couple of them wielding stilts and a unicycle. Once inside, he proceeded to open up his big black bag, and images of Savta Simcha and her magical suitcase (or Mary Poppins for those uninitiated in the Yaffa Ganz classic) instantly popped into my head. Rings, juggling balls, flower sticks, and Chinese frisbees were amongst the paraphernalia eagerly snapped up by young hands. Thus began our weekly odyssey into the world of juggling.

Things were going smoothly as the boys improved their acuity with the juggling balls and flower sticks. One became quite proficient at stilts, and could be seen traipsing around the living room on them, looking very much at home several feet high in the air. Our other son was intent in mastering the unicycle, and spared no effort to reach his goal. In between these two were several boys in the class attempting feats like juggling (of course) and acro-balancing (is that a verb?) with the help of the juggler, fine tuning the art of –what else—balancing. And in the middle of this circus like atmosphere, were all the others—children who lived in our home and those who officially did not, but who were here often enough that we could claim them as dependents on our income tax return. Most sat on the couch watching this pre-dinner performance (hey—should I be charging for this?) being happily entertained while I tried to produce a culinary feat of my own. Which is where I was as my brain suddenly processed the conversation coming from the other room, containing such words as ‘flower sticks’ and ‘fire’ followed by ‘is that really lighter fluid’?! Or something of that sort.

At this point I dropped whatever I was peeling, dicing, and/or chopping and made a beeline for the living room. My imagination brought images to the fore of all those little white tags enmeshed in the crevices of our couches, curtains, cushions and rugs, citing code 356xztr7hj00 warning against exposing said objects to jugglers standing in the middle of the living room about to light flower sticks with lighter fluid! I saw the boys expectant faces, and twinkling eyes, and all I could muster was a feeble, one worded “Outside?”

Moments later, behind the safety of the sliding glass door, I, along with our small audience were treated to a top rated performance of fire coated flower sticks being thrown into the air by the expert hands of the juggler. Before I knew what was happening, the act was passed on to my son, and I watched with a mixture of horror and pride as he expertly handled the fiery objects with unmatched bravura.

It was only after months of such performances and acrobatic maneuvers that it finally dawned on me what the lesson of the juggler was and still is. In one word– trust. These boys have complete and absolute trust to do as the juggler asks of them because they see with their own eyes that he only has their best interests at heart, and he would never put them in harm’s way. They see in him a professional who performs all over the country, and who is continuously sought after for his level of expertise in this particular field. When he lifts them in the air, or turns them upside down, there is a reaction akin to that of riding a roller coaster—the shriek of fear followed by laughter. I saw the tentative and apprehensive looks turn into smiles of accomplishment as they conquered their previous misgivings; through trusting the juggler, they began to trust their own abilities, and were astounded at what they could do.

These boys taught me a profound lesson in my relationship with Hashem. For, after all, isn’t He the Expert Juggler, continuously balancing not only every aspect of our own existence, but those of the most minute creatures all over the world? Isn’t He also a Professional, performing constant feats and miracles, with a track record unsurpassed by any human being? So why do I have this problem of trust? Why don’t I trust Him unconditionally? Why do I constantly question the validity of His actions, as if I know better? When I feel like I am trying to attempt to fly on stilts, and I fall—it is He who picks me up! When I try to make a go on the unicycle of life and I crash against the wall—it is He Who is there to catch me, Who dusts me off and sets me upright once again. And of course—when I try to attempt an acrobatic feat where I think I am being able to ‘balance it all’ and it topples at my feet—that’s when He shows me that He was in control all along.

Why can’t I be more like these boys who accept what the juggler says without question, who let go of their inner fears to accomplish things they never knew they could? All these insecurities and misconceptions which hold us back from doing and being and believing—all the untapped potential which gets sucked into the vortex of despair within—why can’t I just let it go?

Hashem sends us deep and life changing lessons, even in the guise of an affable and unassuming Yirat Shamayim (fear of heaven) juggler. All this time I thought I was the one providing my children with physical motor skill building lessons. Little did I know that the real lesson to be learned would be one of the spiritual variety. For isn’t that what it is all about? To first unconditionally trust and believe in your Creator, so that you could then trust and believe in yourself?

Who knew that when I responded to that ad that I would get a demonstration right in the middle of my living room on the concept of trust? That the benefits imbibed by all would not only be good for their bodies, but even better for their souls? It is just another example of Hashem speaking through his creations—even if it comes in the form of a few multi-hued juggling balls.