rabbichaplain

Facing Yom Kippur alone?

Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, is a very terrifying day. While it is an opportunity to start again through confession and regret, there is a sense of urgency that highlights the day. Whether one has spent this time preparing or not, how can a person wipe the entire slate clean in one 25 hour period? Sure, change is ultimately instantaneous, yet in examining the liturgy of the day, the task of repentance and finding forgiveness seems insurmountable.

Throughout Yom Kippur, the liturgy revolves around a formal confession, viddui, which lists a litany of areas we encounter and inevitably fall short of during the year. I find myself overwhelmed by the vastness of our perceived imperfections and our forced listing of them again and again. It can be lonely when confronting one’s shame, one’s failures. How can we even open our mouths to recite these words? It can be too much!

Yet, there is a short phrase in the introduction of the viddui which brings me solace. Before reciting the confession, it says:

אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ וֵאלֹהֵי אֲבוֹתֵֽינוּ תָּבֹא לְפָנֶֽיךָ תְּפִלָּתֵֽנוּ, וְאַל תִּתְעַלַּם מִתְּחִנָּתֵֽנוּ שֶׁאֵין אֲנַֽחְנוּ עַזֵּי פָנִים וּקְשֵׁי עֹֽרֶף לוֹמַר לְפָנֶֽיךָ יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ וֵאלֹהֵי אֲבוֹתֵֽינוּ צַדִּיקִים אֲנַֽחְנוּ וְלֹא חָטָֽאנוּ אֲבָל אֲנַֽחְנוּ וַאֲבוֹתֵֽינוּ חָטָֽאנוּ:

Our God and God of our fathers, let our prayer come before you and do not ignore our supplication. For we are not so brazen-faced and stiff-necked to say to you, Adonoy, our God, and God of our fathers, “We are righteous and have not sinned.” But, indeed, we and our fathers have sinned.

When we are confronting our inner self, working to overcome aspects of our lives we wish to change for the better, confessing our imperfections, there is a sense of being alone. And yet, in this phrase, “But, indeed, we and our fathers have sinned” the prayer is offering us strength, in that we are not alone in this process. We enter the auspicious day as part of a chain of tradition. We are here because it is part of our tradition, our legacy, to pause and take stock of what we have fallen short of and what we hope to rise to in the coming year. We are here because our parents, grandparents, etc. also needed a day a year to reframe life’s challenges and struggles. We are not doing this because everyone else is perfect and we are not. Rather, Yom Kippur is a day for all of us to embrace the imperfections for it is through this embrace that we can grow.

One of the struggles with growth and change in life is thinking that those around us don’t understand the struggles we are dealing with. When people are honest about their fears, worries and doubts, many barriers to change are removed. (As an example of a book that speaks about how shame is a barrier to change, see The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are by Brene Brown.)

As we prepare in these final hours for Yom Kippur, may we find the resolve of knowing that we are all striving to be our ideal selves and find ways of reaching for those ideals. And if we fall short, if we err, let us remember that its OK, its part of our being human. It is merely a lonely struggle but it is a struggle we all face. May this Yom Kippur be a day of meaning, a day of introspection and a day of finding something to strive to reach for in the coming year.

“For Your Sake Living God”

In the midst of the period between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, there are liturgical additions that help frame the focus of these 10 days. One of the phrases is:

“זָכְרֵֽנוּ לְחַיִּים מֶֽלֶךְ חָפֵץ בַּחַיִּים וְכָתְבֵֽנוּ בְּסֵֽפֶר הַחַיִּים לְמַעַנְךָ אֱלֹהִים חַיִּים:

Remember us for life, King, Who desires life, and inscribe us in the Book of Life, for Your sake Living God.”

The other day, as I was reciting these words, I found myself shuddering when I came to the last phrase “for Your sake, Living God.” I began experiencing a sense that it is so difficult to live up to an ideal that if all else fails, we hope we can rely upon, “for Your sake…” inscribe us for good. As I was lost in this awesome moment, I was reminded of a short piece I recently read in Growing Each Day, a daily reader written by Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski o.b.m.. After asking what the phrase “for Your sake” means, Rabbi Twerski suggests a creative read of the prayer:

We might read the verse a bit differently. “Inscribe us in the book of a life that is lived for Your sake.” In other words, we pray not only for life, but for a quality of life that is meaningful and purposeful, one that will be lived for the greater glory of God (p. 5)…
Of course, we wish to be inscribed in the book of life, but it should be a life that we wish to be in rather than one that we seek to escape from (ibid.)

We recite these words during the 10 days of repentance as a focus on our striving for an ideal life of meaning, or spirit, of Godliness. I shuddered because it is an awesome and lofty goal that recognizes how hard it would be to reach. During this period, we look to formulate our ideal self, turning in prayer to God recognizing our imperfections and expressing a deep sense of hope to start clean.

Years ago, in a similar way, standing in prayer on Yom Kippur, reciting the words of confessions, the Viddui, I found myself suddenly laughing at the seeming absurdity of striving for forgiveness for all the myriad mistakes we make and will find ourselves making year in and year out. The laughter came from a place of fear, as if I didn’t laugh, I would have felt crushed by how truly difficult change is. I realized in that moment the goal of Viddui, the goal of this entire period is a striving, a framing of who we hope our ideal selves will be. And when we emerge from Yom Kippur, the question will be: do we have the opportunity afforded to us by being in the book of life to work on living towards our ideal self throughout the coming period between Yom Kippur and the next Rosh Hashanah? Will we carry forward the image of who we want to be during the doldrums of the remainder of the year?

May this new year of 5782 and this period be one of deep introspection in finding the ideal you so that we can take the opportunity to hit pause and beginning anew with a new goal, a new purpose and a new mission in our lives.

Meditation for Rosh Hashanah

Rosh Hashanah is a new beginning, a new opportunity to reconnect with our most basic self. There are no barriers. The shofar blowing represents this barrierless experience, as the sounds come from our breath and breath alone. We listen to the depths of the soul and if we are attentive, will truly experience the cries and pains that emerge.

For those looking for a focus for this upcoming Rosh Hashanah, the following piece is very meaningful. Rav Yoel Glick shared the following reflection and practice for concentration during Shofar Blowing.

The shofar (ram’s horn) that we sound on Rosh Hashanah is intimately linked with this process. The shofar blast is a column of energy in the form of sound that aligns us with our soul and prepares us to receive the incoming new consciousness and energies. It creates the “birth canal” for the spiritual awakening that is to take place at this time. The stronger the alignment is with the column of energy, the greater will be the spiritual birth that takes place.
Rebbe Natan of Nemirov teaches that on Rosh Hashanah we bring the New Year from koach el hapoel, from potential into action, from the plane of the mind into the plane of physicality — from celestial energies into concrete activities in the world. The physical act of blowing the shofar is a symbolic representation of this movement. We take air from our lungs and send it through a physical vessel, the shofar, which then takes the breath and turns it into sound...

When we listen to the sound of the Shofar, we are hearing the depths of the shofar blower. Are we paying attention to the sound, the breath, the energy put out into the world? Here is Rav Yoel’s practice for being mindful and focused during and after the shofar blowing:

Begin by first emptying your mind of all thoughts. Search inward and find the center of your being. Now turn your mind towards the God of Israel and the Soul of Israel, and look in their direction with love and awe.
When the shofar is blown, use the sound to focus your mind and ascend upward on the energy. Keep reaching higher and higher as the shofar blasts continue. When the shofar stops — sit in the silence — still and ready to receive the Lord’s response.
This response may come as a feeling of God’s presence, or as a thought, word or image that drops into your mind; or it may simply come as the “livingness” within the silence. Whatever form God’s response takes, if you are open and sincere, then you will receive.

May this year be a year where we all find a new beginning, something that invigorates our hearts and minds. May we be open to receive blessing and goodness. May this year see us continue to emerge from the traumas of the past year and a half and may each of you find a sweetness and hope.

Flooded basements – nail of faith

This may be a bit early as it is related to sukkot but it’s on my mind today. Last night, the remnants of Hurricane Ida swept through NJ, bringing heavy rain, tornadoes and flooding. Here where we live, many houses experiences flooded basements. While this doesn’t compare to the damage of those down in Louisiana who suffered the full impact of the hurricane, for many, this was the first flood in homes that didn’t have flooding during previous hurricanes and other storms.

In moments like this, we are reminded again about the impermanence of our supposedly sturdy dwellings. This idea of impermanence is a theme and focus of Sukkot. One of the primary commandments of Sukkot is the dwelling in the temporary, flimsy structures we build, a sukkah, for 7 days. We are to make the sukkah the primary place of life during this holiday. In many works that describe the commandment, the theme of faith and trust is presented as the underlying message.

One of my favorite stories about the sukkah and the idea of faith is a story shared by Lord Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, entitled Nail of Faith:

A story for Succot. And it really happened, over 40 years ago. It was when Elaine and I were first married. And so, for the first time, I had to make a succah for ourselves. And I really didn’t know how: first of all, at school every single year I came bottom in the class woodwork, changing a light bulb was the outer limit of my practical abilities. Secondly, we didn’t have a car. So I had no idea how to get the materials and bring them back home. But then a friend said to me, “Well, I’m going tomorrow to buy some materials for the succah, would you like to come with me? We can buy them together.” So I said, yes. And the next morning I went round to him.

Well, he showed me his plans. He had actually drawn up the most elaborate, architectural drawings for a succah fit for royalty. It was the kind of succah that’s grand with a fine door and windows and all sorts of things that you would be really quite happy to spend 40 years in the wilderness. And you could, as I say, entertain royalty in it. And, as I say, I had no idea what to do or how to make the thing. But we went off in his car and we went to the timber yard.

When we got there, he took out of his pocket a long list of precise specifications: Beams, and planks, and hinges and screws, and goodness knows what. And I really had no idea. So I ordered a few big sheets of hardboard and a few planks, and a bag of nails, and that was it. We put them all in his car, we came back to our respective homes and started hammering away.

The next day, we visited one another to see our respective handiwork. He had indeed done a palace of a succah. It was grand, it was self-standing, and it was magnificent. And mine was just three walls of hardboard nailed together and leaning against the house. It looked like a great big cardboard box and very ungainly. But nevermind, at least it satisfied the halachic requirements. And we went into Yom Tov and duly celebrated.

The second night of Succot there was an almighty storm, and very intense hurricane force wind. And the next morning I came into shul and he was looking very downcast. “What’s the matter?” I said to him. “My succah,” he said. “In the storm last night, it blew down. Yours did too, I suppose.” With a self-deprecating smile I said, “No, actually mine’s still standing.” “I don’t believe it,” he said. “I’ve got to come round and see.” So after shul he came back to our house and looked at our succah. And there it was, still standing, and he wanted to know why. He looked carefully and he found the answer. Because it was so unstable I had fixed it to the house with a single nail, and that nail kept it standing upright. He paused for a moment and then he turned to me and he said this:

He said, “Now I suddenly understand what Succot is all about.” He said, “You can plan a succah, you can plan a building, you can plan a life down to the utmost detail and it can be a magnificent plan. But if a wind comes, it can blow your plans away. Whereas yours, which was very rough and ready, is joined to something solid, to the wall of your house. And even if there’s only one nail joining you to something solid and immovable, then all the winds in the world won’t blow you away.” And then he looked carefully at the nail and turned to me with a smile I’ll never forget. And he said to me, “That nail is faith.” Have a wonderful Succot. Chag sameach.

Ritual for coming into the present moment

Prayer is a verbal encounter with G-d, with the divine in our lives. Prayer is also a series of actions and rituals which help the body engage with the mind and soul in this spiritual, mystical encounter. In the Jewish tradition, the central prayer of the thrice daily services is referred to as Shemoneh Esrai, the 18, referring to the 18 (now 19) prayers/blessings. These prayers connect one to a deep, personal and communal relation with Gd, requesting for the restoration of what Jews would consider an ideal society and lifestyle. Before the beginning of this part of the service, the tradition is to take three steps back from the position one is standing in and then take three steps forward back into the initial position. I recently came across a sweet and deep explanation offered as to what is behind this ritual of movement.

And so, before beginning the Amidah, the quintessence of prayer, we take three steps back as if to clear ourselves of thoughts of the future, and then we take three steps forward, as if to clear our consciousness of the past. Then we can stand with ha’kol, “everything,” all of ourselves, in the simplicity of the present moment, to attune to and engage the Ribbono Shel Olam – the Source of Everything – and to address our immediate reality and our current needs. The rivers of past and future mingle, converge and fan out across the ground of the present moment. In the Amidah we stand firmly on stable ground with Hashem, opening ourselves and our hearts in prayer, touching eternity. Contact with the Infinite is only possible here, now. (Rabbi Judah Mischel, BaDerech, PG. 66.)

As Rabbi Mischel explains, we can take this movement as an opportunity to center ourselves in the present, leaving behind the past and future during this few minutes of intimate, one on one time with G-d. I find myself drawn to this idea of physically bringing ourselves into the present moment while we are also mindfully doing so in the form of the opening words of the prayer:

אֲדֹנָי שְׂפָתַי תִּפְתָּח וּפִי יַגִּיד תְּהִלָּתֶֽךָ:

My Master, open my lips, and my mouth will declare Your praise.

When we are in search of mindfulness, we must bring our body and soul together. We must strive for this harmony within who we are.

Prayer: beginning with gratitude

Upon awakening, Jewish custom is to recite the following;

מוֹדֶה אֲנִי לְפָנֶיךָ מלך חַי וְקַיָּם שֶהֶחֱזַרְתָּ בִּי נִשְׁמָתִי בְחֶמְלָה, רַבָּה אֱמוּנָתֶךָ

Modeh ani l’fanecha, melech chai v’kayam, shehechezarta bee nishmati b’chemla, rabbah emunatecha:

I thank You, living and enduring King, for You have graciously returned my soul within me. Great is Your faithfulness.

With these words, one begins the day with the language of gratitude. This awakening meditation is a powerful framework to start the day. As we know, there is a tremendous push within modern psychology to find focus through gratitude. What better way to do that then to start one’s day with this reflection!

For many, getting up in the morning is not a simple act of waking up. Sleep is not merely a time of rest and relaxation. Sleep can be anxiety driven, with stress related dreams. Sleep time can be one of insomnia and tossing and turning. Sleep can be a most frightening of times. And waking up is not always better. Many of us will hear the alarm (or not if we are trained to wake up on our own) and will feel more tired and frustrated than when we were upon going to bed. It can be quite challenging at this moment of negative energy to find gratitude. And yet, this is the custom of many, to express gratitude, even in a perfunctory, check box way, for perhaps if we do pause, even for a second, the words of Modeh Ani might shift one’s entire daily focus.

May we work to find gratitude for all things in life.

Reflections on Communal vs. Individual Prayer

The following are a rough recreation of remarks given in synagogue over Shabbat, August 13-14, 2021:

The question we as a community have been grappling with this summer is, what makes us a community, a congregation, a gathering of people to pray in one location. I have been reflecting on this question for months. What makes a community? Is it similar goals and purpose, a singular language of prayer or is it perhaps our differences?

Since our particular exploration is dependent on prayer as the nature of a synagogue is to be a gathering place to pray as a community, what does this search unveil for us in these weeks leading to Rosh Hashanah? Allow me to offer a couple of approaches on merging the communal with the individual needs we encounter in prayer.

The 6th Rebbe of Chabad, R. Yitzchak Yosef Schneerson, shared an anecdote about prayer that has sat heavily on my mind for many years. (This is found in a work Likkutei Dibburim though I cannot recall exactly where it is, so I am reconstructing this story from memory, so any errors are mine alone). He describes how (I think) his grandfather one time spoke about a non-Chasidic man, describing the man’s virtues, but concluding with the statement, “But there is one flaw the man has…He prays in a minyan (prayer quorum).” This is a strange vignette, yet, I would like to suggest that the statement about praying in a quorum is meant to convey a deeper message. There is much within the Jewish tradition that lends itself to the power and importance of communal prayer. For example, there are certain specific prayers that may only be recited when there is a prayer quorom. The Rebbe is not disparaging communal prayer. Rather, I think he is suggesting that prayer cannot be seen merely as a communal obligation because then a person is liable to get subsumed in the communal, forskaing prayer’s inherent individuality. We must not presume being in community is enough. During the earlier days of the COVID era, when we didn’t have the opportunity to gather together in person, we yearned to be together. At the same time, many of us found something in spending time at home, praying on our own, at our own pace, in a manner that cannot be fully duplicated in a synagogue. Coming back together, slowly but surely since June 2020, was a process of learning how we can bring the new things we learned in our solitude back into our communal setting.
The first Rebbe of Chabad, R. Schneur Zalman of Liadi, the Alter Rebbe, in his work Likkutei Torah, presents the famous metaphor about how in the month leading to Rosh Hashanah, Elul, G-d, in the role of King, is in the field readily accessible. He writes: “Its like a King who is greeted by the people of the city before entering the actual city. They receive the king in the field. And the King receives them, granting permission to whoever would like to get an audience. The king receives everyone with a warm and welcoming countenance. Afterwards, when the king enters the palace, only those who have explicit permission may enter to see the king.” In a letter quoting this passage, the 7th Chabad Rebbe, R. Menachem Mendel Schneerson, defines this experience using the imagery of praying during the month of Elul. We should see ourselves as praying face to face, with no barriers, before Gd. There is nothing in our way during this time. This description expresses the same duality of communal and individual prayer. The community greets the king, greets G-d, yet each individual is granted private time to commune. We need the communal greeting to open the door to the individuality of our being face to face with G-d.
There is a custom among Hasidim and among those who identify with more mystical forms of Jewish worship to recite the words of Leviticus 19:19, “Love your neighbor as yourself” as a preliminary reflection before the formal prayer service each morning. This practice is attributed to R. Isaac Luria. While we each come to prayer with our individual needs, we know how much value there is placed on communal prayer. Communal prayer is seen as carrying a certain strength to overcome judgment upon the individual. There is a power in numbers. Yet, prayer is often an individualistic confrontation with the Almighty. We often bring our own needs into our prayers. Yet, there is concern we would get too preoccupied with our individual needs, so as a meditation, we are to remember that we are gathering as a group. By recognizing how we are to open our hearts to our neighbors like they are ourselves, connecting to each other, we can find the bridge between our individual needs and our communal needs. We remember that we are interdependent.

As we can see from these three examples, prayer is a complicated dance of our individual needs and emotions while simultaneously remembering our responsibility to be together communally in engaged with Gd. If we are just a community gathering, we can often allow the functionality of communal prayer to be the driving force. At the same time, without the community, we aren’t afforded the unique opportunity of this time of year to grow and change as individuals. We cannot be just about ourselves but must connect with one another through a sense of love and heart. This is not an easy balance.

As we continue to navigate and negotiate these needs during this crazy time, may we merit to find the balance that will help guide us smoothly into a new and better year, where we can find a normalcy and stability to continue to inspire each other and grow, both as individuals and as a community.

Blessings and Curses: reflection on last week’s Torah portion.

Last week, I was struck by a word choice in the book of Job, chapter 1. It states in Job 1:11

וְאוּלָם֙ שְֽׁלַֽח־נָ֣א יָֽדְךָ֔ וְגַ֖ע בְּכל־אֲשֶׁר־ל֑וֹ אִם־לֹ֥א עַל־פָּנֶ֖יךָ יְבָרְכֶֽךָּ׃

But lay Your hand upon all that he has and he will surely blaspheme You to Your face.”

In the Hebrew verse, the word used for blaspheme is the word for blessing. In reflecting on the use of the word for blessing as a substitute for the word for cursing, I began wondering if there is a message in using a positive word to denote a negative word when it comes to blessings and curses. This thought led me to Deuteronomy 11:26-28, the first three verses in this past week’s Torah portion.

רְאֵ֗ה אָנֹכִ֛י נֹתֵ֥ן לִפְנֵיכֶ֖ם הַיּ֑וֹם בְּרָכָ֖ה וּקְלָלָֽה׃

See, this day I set before you blessing and curse:

אֶֽת־הַבְּרָכָ֑ה אֲשֶׁ֣ר תִּשְׁמְע֗וּ אֶל־מִצות֙ יְהֹוָ֣ה אֱלֹֽהֵיכֶ֔ם אֲשֶׁ֧ר אָנֹכִ֛י מְצַוֶּ֥ה אֶתְכֶ֖ם הַיּֽוֹם׃

blessing, if you obey the commandments of the LORD your God that I enjoin upon you this day;

וְהַקְּלָלָ֗ה אִם־לֹ֤א תִשְׁמְעוּ֙ אֶל־מִצְות֙ יְהֹוָ֣ה אֱלֹֽהֵיכֶ֔ם וְסַרְתֶּ֣ם מִן־הַדֶּ֔רֶךְ אֲשֶׁ֧ר אָנֹכִ֛י מְצַוֶּ֥ה אֶתְכֶ֖ם הַיּ֑וֹם לָלֶ֗כֶת אַחֲרֵ֛י אֱלֹהִ֥ים אֲחֵרִ֖ים אֲשֶׁ֥ר לֹֽא־יְדַעְתֶּֽם׃ {ס}

and curse, if you do not obey the commandments of the LORD your God, but turn away from the path that I enjoin upon you this day and follow other gods, whom you have not experienced.

Moses presents the Israelites with a simple, yet profound choice. One either chooses a blessing or a curse, which are both contingent on one action, following or not following the commandments. In other words, the difference in the positive or negative outcome seems to boil down to a simple equation of listening or not listening. The imagery this closely resembles is describes by Maimonides in the Mishneh Torah, Laws of Repentance 3:1:

כָּל אֶחָד וְאֶחָד מִבְּנֵי הָאָדָם יֵשׁ לוֹ זְכֻיּוֹת וַעֲוֹנוֹת. מִי שֶׁזְּכֻיּוֹתָיו יְתֵרוֹת עַל עֲוֹנוֹתָיו צַדִּיק. וּמִי שֶׁעֲוֹנוֹתָיו יְתֵרוֹת עַל זְכֻיּוֹתָיו רָשָׁע. מֶחֱצָה לְמֶחֱצָה בֵּינוֹנִי. וְכֵן הַמְּדִינָה אִם הָיוּ זְכֻיּוֹת כָּל יוֹשְׁבֶיהָ מְרֻבּוֹת עַל עֲוֹנוֹתֵיהֶן הֲרֵי זוֹ צַדֶּקֶת. וְאִם הָיוּ עֲוֹנוֹתֵיהֶם מְרֻבִּין הֲרֵי זוֹ רְשָׁעָה. וְכֵן כָּל הָעוֹלָם כֻּלּוֹ:

Each and every one of the sons of man has virtues and vices. He whose virtues exceed his vices is a just man, and he whose vices exceed his virtues is an evildoer; if both are evenly balanced, he is mediocre. Even so is a state. If the virtues of all of its inhabitants exceeded their vices, it is, indeed, a just state; but if their vices exceeded, it is, indeed, a wicked state. Even such is a standard for the whole world.

Maimonides has us imagining a balanced scale and how one positive action will tip it towards blessing, and one negative action will tip it towards a curse. This tipping of the scales represents the constant human struggle. In essence, life can always be seen in balance and each choice leads us down one of two paths until our next point of choice, when another path opens up.

Yet, for most of us, choosing one path over another doesn’t seem like a simple, easy, two sides of a coin decision. Rather, it seems like a huge leap. I think this is symbolized in the immediate aftermath of Moses’ words of choice to the people. Immediately following Deuteronomy 11:26-28, Moses commands the people that upon entering Canaan, they are to stop and offer blessings and curses to each other, standing on the opposite mountains of Mount Gerizim and Mount Eival. In picturing this communal event, we are left with another image of blessings and curses, namely the chasm between the two, as symbolized by the valley that stands between the two mountains. It is symbolic of huge differences between blessing and cursing. How do we experience a blessing vs a curse? What does it mean in life to feel blessed vs cursed?

To summarize, in examining the images of blessings and curses as being a choice before oneself and something separated by a valley, we get a sense of the dialectic nature of these two terms. They exist simultaneously as both a mirror image of one another and as total opposites with completely different characteristics.

One potential approach in reflecting on these dual images from a similar duality described in BT Sukkah 52a about the evil inclination:

כִּדְדָרֵשׁ רַבִּי יְהוּדָה לֶעָתִיד לָבֹא מְבִיאוֹ הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא לְיֵצֶר הָרָע וְשׁוֹחֲטוֹ בִּפְנֵי הַצַּדִּיקִים וּבִפְנֵי הָרְשָׁעִים צַדִּיקִים נִדְמֶה לָהֶם כְּהַר גָּבוֹהַּ וּרְשָׁעִים נִדְמֶה לָהֶם כְּחוּט הַשַּׂעֲרָה הַלָּלוּ בּוֹכִין וְהַלָּלוּ בּוֹכִין צַדִּיקִים בּוֹכִין וְאוֹמְרִים הֵיאַךְ יָכוֹלְנוּ לִכְבּוֹשׁ הַר גָּבוֹהַּ כָּזֶה וּרְשָׁעִים בּוֹכִין וְאוֹמְרִים הֵיאַךְ לֹא יָכוֹלְנוּ לִכְבּוֹשׁ אֶת חוּט הַשַּׂעֲרָה הַזֶּה וְאַף הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא תָּמֵהַּ עִמָּהֶם שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר כֹּה אָמַר ה׳ צְבָאוֹת כִּי יִפָּלֵא בְּעֵינֵי שְׁאֵרִית הָעָם הַזֶּה בַּיָּמִים הָהֵם גַּם בְּעֵינַי יִפָּלֵא

The Gemara answers: This can be understood as Rabbi Yehuda taught: In the future, at the end of days, God will bring the evil inclination and slaughter it in the presence of the righteous and in the presence of the wicked. For the righteous the evil inclination appears to them as a high mountain, and for the wicked it appears to them as a mere strand of hair. These weep and those weep. The righteous weep and say: How were we able to overcome so high a mountain? And the wicked weep and say: How were we unable to overcome this strand of hair? And even the Holy One, Blessed be He, will wonder with them, as it is stated with regard to the eulogy: “So says the Lord of hosts: If it be wondrous in the eyes of the remnant of this people in those days, it should also be wondrous in My eyes” (Zechariah 8:6).

In the above scenario, the imagery of choice making is contingent on the chooser. For some, the choice of not choosing an “evil path” should have been simple, easy, like pushing aside a strand of hair. The choice of blessing and curse was just to flip the coin to the other side. For others, there is a sense that each choice is not simple, but in fact massive, like traversing a valley.

The choice between blessing and curse is a similar metaphor in that for those who fall into the trap of the curse, there will come a point in which one will sense of how easy it could have been to choose differently, like the strand of hair, like the tightrope. For those blessed, the grandeur of the blessing will be such that it will be experienced as if one overcame so much to be able to receive this blessing.

I believe this duality also explains the linguistic question from the book of Job. The text uses the language of blessing to speak of curse so as to cause us all to pause and reflect on the “test.” The goal was to push Job to see life through a darker pair of glasses via taking away all the good he had. Yet, in a backhanded way, I think the word usage, blessing, is implying how small the difference really is between that and a curse (there is another way to explain this with regard to how the Bible at times will avoid using “negative” language – BT Pesachim 3a).

Today is the first day of Elul, which in the Jewish calendar signifies we are now one month from Rosh Hashanah. The tradition is that this month is a month of soul-searching and introspection, in preparation for the judgment of the world on Rosh Hashanah. Growth and change are hard work like climbing a mountain. For many, this sense of feeling one is fighting an uphill battle is so strong there is a tendency to just give up. Yet if we don’t climb the mountain, we might very well look back and wonder why we didn’t realize how easy it was to actually climb the mountain because the mountain was really not a mountain but rather it was a straight and smooth path.

Let the broken pieces fall

Scrolling through Facebook yesterday morning, I came across a powerful dialogue created by John Roedel. The post was shared by a chaplain colleague. The dialogue is between Gd and a person in which the person asks Gd to put back the broken pieces of the person’s life. Gd’s response is to not repair, to not fix, but let the pieces fall away so as to allow the person to shed those things which are hindrances in the person’s life.

Here is the dialogue in full:

Me: Hey God.
God: Hello…..
Me: I’m falling apart. Can you put me back together?
God: I would rather not.
Me: Why?
God: Because you aren’t a puzzle.
Me: What about all of the pieces of my life that are falling down onto the ground?
God: Let them stay there for a while. They fell off for a reason. Take some time and decide if you need any of those pieces back.
Me: You don’t understand! I’m breaking down!
God: No – you don’t understand. You are breaking through. What you are feeling are just growing pains. You are shedding the things and the people in your life that are holding you back. You aren’t falling apart. You are falling into place. Relax. Take some deep breaths and allow those things you don’t need anymore to fall off of you. Quit holding onto the pieces that don’t fit you anymore. Let them fall off. Let them go.
Me: Once I start doing that, what will be left of me?
God: Only the very best pieces of you.
Me: I’m scared of changing.
God: I keep telling you – YOU AREN’T CHANGING!! YOU ARE BECOMING!
Me: Becoming who?
God: Becoming who I created you to be! A person of light and love and charity and hope and courage and joy and mercy and grace and compassion. I made you for more than the shallow pieces you have decided to adorn yourself with that you cling to with such greed and fear. Let those things fall off of you. I love you! Don’t change! … Become! Become! Become who I made you to be. I’m going to keep telling you this until you remember it.
Me: There goes another piece.
God: Yep. Let it be.
Me: So … I’m not broken?
God: Of course Not! – but you are breaking like the dawn. It’s a new day. Become!!!
~John Roedel~

I find the imagery of the broken pieces powerful. We are not denying those pieces are a part of who we were. Rather, we are acknowledging them, maybe even storing them somewhere, but not trying to fit them back into the person we are becoming.

In a way, it is metaphor for this blog. In the journey of beginning anew, moving forward, I cannot forget what was but cannot allow the past to merely be the barometer of who I am. I am the person who I have become because of the past yet as I continue to be, I am also not the same person as yesterday. Each day, we have a chance to renew. We do that by allowing ourselves to evolve and to grow. By allowing the pieces to fall as they do, we can also find hope for the future, no matter what the past has wrought.

I am also imagining that we gather the pieces that have fallen and keep them somewhere safe, pulling them out for reflection as we continue on our journeys. How often do we find ourselves reflecting on events of years past, wondering why all of a sudden the memory returns? The pieces that have fallen off can be teachers for us, but can never be fitted back onto who we are becoming.

New beginnings

Why a new blog? Why a new page and a new start? Over the years, I have started and stopped a few blogs. I am proud of the work I have done. I am grateful to have written and reflected on many topics. Yet, I realize that it was time to leave the past behind. This is not to say I won’t rehash some of my old ideas and thoughts. Rather, I want a fresh place to begin again.

Too often, we presume that we are merely on a single lane highway, just moving forward in time, accumulating more and more stories and events in life. While this is partially true, in reality our highway curves and has detours. The trouble is we sometimes lose sight of those changes on our journey. I attribute this to finding ourselves living too much in the past. Living in the past can hinder our ability to live in the present and hope for a better future. I have seen this idea written about countless times in spiritual memoirs and self-help books. To truly grow, one must build off of but not remain tied to the past. We must constantly work to evolve.

This same point is true for me and my journey. I want to build on all that I have been and also untie myself from being stuck in my ways because it’s always the way it has been. This is not a repudiation of my life’s journey. Rather it is an attitude adjustment to how I want to go forward day by day.

Please join me on this journey. I look forward to learning and growing together.