Last Sunday, we stood for a hymn. I opened my mouth to sing and found a sob. Soon, I was weeping from the sheer joy of being there, my wife and son on one side, three friends on the other, and around us good-hearted and faithful people drawing close to God.

I am sure it was a strange sight. Men don’t often cry in public, and when we do, as with anyone, our tears are an ambiguous sign. Sadness or joy? Loss or gain? Despair or relief?

I know it was joy. On this sabbath, on the day God rested, something “rested” in me, some exertion ceased. I had no need to strive, earn, prove or convince. I needed only to sing, and what I sang was the song God and I had been composing together while working.

from “On a Journey: Meditations on God in Daily Life,” 2005