The solar eclipse we witnessed to various degrees this week brought many Americans together and looking up to heaven. In a time when it seems we are drifting to greater social and political polarization, it was inspiring for me to see everyone having a common cause. For such a rare occasion, I drove with friends to North Carolina to view the eclipse in its totality. It may not be that rare as a cosmological phenomenon, but it has been 99 years since the last total eclipse occurred over the U.S. Driving there and back from Greenport in two days meant a long drive through dark nights, heavy traffic, and many delays. Anxiety was definitely in the air, as we couldn’t be late — even by two minutes. Yes, you can say we drove across seven states and back for a minute (1:35 minutes to be exact), but the total eclipse was totally worth it!

Traffic was not the only thing hard to avoid. Seeing everyone raising their heads to heaven made it hard to avoid the symbolism of Aleynu Leshabe’ach — the prayer that concludes every Jewish service: “We rise to our duty to praise the Master of all, to acclaim the creator… all humanity will invoke your name… everyone will accept your dominion… on that day, Adonai shall be One and His name One.”

It was actually surprising for me to discover that in Jewish tradition, there is no designated blessing for an eclipse. Somehow the rabbis did not see this phenomenon as totally positive. There is something about the blocked light of the sun that can be intimidating. In fact, the rabbis “view” any eclipse as a curse. The difference between a lunar eclipse and a solar eclipse refers to the difference between Israel and the nations. In the case of a solar eclipse, God warns the nations. The Talmud adds (B Sukkah 29a) that if the eclipse is seen in the east, it’s a warning to that nation, and if it appears in the west, it warns that nation.

During the Shabbat before the eclipse, we read the portion of Re’eh — look. What is it that God is telling us we need to see, especially when this eclipse was happening over the U.S. alone? The eclipse happened on the new month of Elul. It is the month of Teshuva — returning to God and to each other. The four letters in Hebrew make the acronyms — I am for my beloved and my beloved is for me. It is the month that reminds us to see God and each other. Perhaps the message from God is exactly that: do not hide your face from each other, lest God turn his face from us.

What surprised me was that as dark as it got, there was still light — just enough light to see each other. That light came from the ring of light around the sun — the corona. Instead of focusing on the darkness, I found myself fascinated by that ring — the ring that God lets us see even in the darkest hours, to remind us that He is still with us. More importantly, perhaps, God is reminding us that even if we think we have divorced each other socially or politically, we are still wedded to each other — as people and as a nation — and God is still wedded to us. On our side, we must not forget our divine image.

Two days after the eclipse, I was standing with the newly wedded Jesus and Dawn Teyuca in our beautiful sanctuary. To the new couple I conveyed that old idea. There may be darkness in our lives and in our relationships, but the rings you are giving each other today should serve as a reminder that you are still beloved. It’s not just a ring, it’s a ring of fire.

May we have a Chodesh Tov and a blessed year.

—Rabbi Gadi Capela