If you acquired a new car recently, you
probably drove it happily for a while without even cracking open the operating manual in the glove box.
After all, you know how to drive and most cars are fairly standard. You switch it from P to D, press on one pedal to go fast and press the other one to slow down.
Maybe the first time you opened the manual was when it began to rain. At first glance, you needed an advanced engineering degree to operate the wiper system, but the index quickly took you to page 72, which helped you master the 17 modes for clearing raindrops from your windshield. The option for automatic operation whenever it senses raindrops is cool and makes you smile.
Later, while parked and waiting for someone, you page through the manual and discover that your car can sense whether you or your wife is driving and will automatically adjust the seat position to each driver’s preference.
These and other discoveries of just how brilliant the car’s designers are reaffirm how smart you are to have purchased this particular vehicle.
That’s my relationship with Judaism and the incandescent brilliance of its Designer. I continually discover “features” in the instruction manual that reaffirm my love affair with God and his book.