Category: Jewish holidays

Putting The Soul into Learning: Talmud Torah as a Spiritual Experience

Black Fire on White Fire – the multiple levels of Torah.

Every so often, I come back to the following story (see here for the original posting). I find much comfort in the layers that I have gleaned from it. Here is one version as I recently wrote up for Congregation Ahavas Achim’s Shavuot Journal.

Hasidic stories have many layers of interpretation and points for reflection. From the simple niceties of storytelling to deep esoteric concepts, many of these stories require time and focus to explore the breadth and depth of the lessons we can glean.  One of my favorite stories describes the origins of how R. Dov Ber of Mezeritch (Maggid of Mezeritch) became a follower of the Baal Shem Tov (see Sefer Baal Shem Tov, vol. 1 pg. 7-8 or Keter Shem Tov Helek 2 23a).

(Freely translated/adapted): I heard from a Hasid, at some point R. Dov Ber began hearing about the greatness of the holy Rabbi, Baal Shem Tov, and how people would travel from far and wide to witness and receives his prayers.  R. Dov Ber was known as one who had a sharp mind and was an expert in Shas and Poskim.  Additionally, he had his hands in the wisdom of the Kabbalah.  He was curious as to what made the Baal Shem Tov so great. 

He finally decided to travel to the Baal Shem Tov in order to test him.  As he was travelling, he began having regrets, for R. Dov Ber was a matmid, (someone always immersed in study) and he was unable to maintain his learning while travelling, thus distressing him.  He finally resolved to continue, knowing that he would hear Torah when he arrived to see the Baal Shem Tov.  Alas, this was not to be. Instead, the Baal Shem Tov shared a story about a how he was travelling for days and ran out of food to provide for his wagon driver.  He then happened upon a poor non-Jew from whom he purchased bread to provide for his wagon driver.  The Baal Shem Tov also described how he ran out of food for his horses on a journey. While the stories contained tremendous wisdom, R. Dov Ber did not see the wisdom or depth of the Baal Shem Tov’s words. 

R. Dov Ber went to his assistant and told him to ready the wagons for his return trip the next morning, as it was too dark to travel on this particular night. At midnight, with everything prepped to go, R. Dov Ber was summoned to meet with the Baal Shem Tov. 

The Baal Shem Tov asked him, “Do you know how to learn?” 

He responded, “Yes.”

The Baal Shem Tov then continued saying, “I have heard that you know how to learn.  Tell me, do you have knowledge of the wisdom of the Kabbalah?”

He responded, “Yes.”

The Baal Shem Tov then asked his attendant to bring him a copy of the Etz Chaim (Kabbalat HaAri) and showed R. Dov Ber an essay, which the Baal Shem Tov asked him to explain.  R. Dov Ber took the text, reviewed it and returned to the Baal Shem Tov and explained the text to him.

The Baal Shem Tov said, “You don’t know anything.”  So R. Dov Ber went back, looked it over again and told the Baal Shem Tov, “The correct interpretation is like I already stated, so if you think you know a better explanation, please tell it to me for I will hear truth from whomever shares truth.”

The Baal Shem Tov responded, “Stand up, for this passage contains names of angels.”

As soon as he said this, the text illuminated the entire house and a fire surrounded them.  They sensed the presence of the angels mentioned in the text. 

The Baal Shem Tov then said to R. Dov Ber, “In truth, the interpretation is as you said, however your learning lacks soul (ed. Note – emphasis mine).”

At this moment, R. Dov Ber told his servant to return home and he would be staying with the Baal Shem Tov to learn from his great wisdom. 

Many of us struggle with the greater goals of Torah study. Throughout Jewish tradition, we have many philosophies and motives for study, including:

  1. Studying the works of our tradition is an act that is to be done lishma, for its own sake.
  2. Studying the Torah is a process that helps maintain the world, as we learn in Pirkei Avot 1:2, that one of the world’s pillars is the Torah. 
  3. Studying the Torah is for the sake of action, Lilmod al Minat L’Maaseh, study in order to do. 

Yet, even with these goals and ideas, I would presume that we all struggle at times to see the soulful depth of what we are learning. We struggle to keep these ideals in mind. 

If we reflect on the above story, perhaps we can garner a new appreciation for the centrality of Torah in our lives, something we reinvest in over Shavuot. R. Dov Ber did not recognize the Torah of storytelling, of the seemingly mundane. For him, Torah was merely the fixed “text” of Talmud, halacha, kabbalah. Anything outside of that was seen as mundane, unimportant. He couldn’t grasp the value in the experiential aspects of Torah study.  That is, until the Baal Shem Tov opened his eyes to the deeper Torah that comes from experiencing it, integrating it beyond the words on paper. The Baal Shem Tov showed R. Dov Ber the soul of learning.

Today, we are blessed to be able to learn anytime, anywhere, almost anything we want.  This is a blessing and a challenge. Many partake in daily set study, whether Daf Yomi, Mishna Yomi, Nach Yomi, or some other Yomi. Others have set learning based on certain desired quotas and measures that one takes upon oneself.  We can connect to great scholars around the world.  We are fortunate to be able to have access to both the texts and teachers who can help guide us through.  Yet, how many times do we despair because the study moves too fast, or because we don’t recall the material from one day to the next. 

We shouldn’t give up. As we can see from the story of R. Dov Ber, it isn’t just the ability to read a text that speaks to our growth in Torah study.  It is about how we are engaged in the study.  R. Dov Ber stayed with the Baal Shem Tov to learn what being engaged in the text meant.  For us, it is how we approach our learning. If we are consistent, if we are mindful and engaged with mind, body and soul, then we will find true success.  Not just in what we know, but in how Torah guides us in our lives. 

This is the message of Shavuot as we celebrate it today.  Shavuot, as Zman Matan Torateinu, the time of receiving our Torah, is a time to reinvest in our learning.  Many do this through staying up and learning/being engaged in learning on the first night. Others through the communal focus on study activities throughout Shavuot.  In all of these moments, we are tasked with both the study and also the experience of study so as to inspire us to strive towards deeper and more meaningful study.  May each of us experience a soulful learning this Shavuot.  

We are here to walk along the path of spiritual, soulful growth with you. Contact New Beginnings Spiritual Coaching and Consulting LLC at 732-314-6758 ext. 100 or via email at newbeginningsspiritualcoach@gmail.com.

Rollercoasters and post Pesach reflections – taking a holiday message into our lives.

Mako Rollercoaster

I used to be a rollercoaster junkie. Any amusement park I went to I would spend my day riding one rollercoaster after another, seeking the next thrill, the next controlled risk. Nothing could stop me.

As often happens, as we get a bit older, we shy away from many thrills and risks. So there we were, during Chol HaMoed, at Sea World Orlando, and I decided I needed a thrill, a risk. Still, even though I had made up my mind, I was feeling nervous and worried. The ride warnings were telling me “just don’t” but my adventurous, live life side said “try.” Yet, it wasn’t until my nephews grabbed me by the arm to ride the Mako rollercoaster that I finally committed to “stepping back in time” and going for it.

The rollercoaster was wild. If you didn’t watched the video on top, watch it. The coaster was intense, leaving me with a sore neck and a bit woozy. Yet, was completely worth it! What a ride! Of course, it ended up being the only rollercoaster I went on all day (hey, I still have limits).

As I was sitting around reflecting on this moment, reminding myself of all the fun I used to have riding rollercoaster after rollercoaster, loops, no loops, wooden, you name it, I also found a hidden Passover message in the ride and the risk.

Passover celebrates the beginning of the Israelite journey out of Egypt. Beginnings are like the initial plunge of a rollercoaster. The new start seems very slow, an upwards grind, fighting “gravity.” The anticipation of the thrill as well as the accompanying fear grows as it travels higher and higher. And then, wham! the plunge, the moment of truth. When the Israelites leave Egypt, each part of the journey is like the grinding ascent, it’s a slow path to a moment. And once they reach that moment, there is no turning back.

For them, leaving Egypt was the initial plunge, the risk. Passover acknowledges the initial powerful, plunge into the unknown. Even if you can see the path of the rollercoaster, until you are on it, I would say you don’t know it. The Israelites knew the journey was to get to Israel, but how they would get there is the question. And along this journey there weren’t plunges, ups and downs and turns sideways, upside down, etc. we know the story is long, and we know Passover is just a moment and it is the moment all wrapped into one.

Life is similar. When we embark on the next rollercoaster, the next risk, we build up and up until the moment we choose to commit. We then take the plunge. We don’t know how it works ends, how it gets you there, but we know an end of the ride will be waiting. Every journey has this process.

The rabbis offer an approach to framing the beginning and end. We begin with the negative, the difficulties, the grinding upward mobility and end with the praises, the hope, etc., or in their words מתחיל בגנות ומסיים בשבח. Each journey begins from jettisoning the negative weight of what was and building up to the new, positive weight going forward. And when you take the step forward, the twists and turns makes for the thrill of the ride. So…

Take the plunge!

Need help riding the rails of new challenges: Contact New Beginnings Spiritual Coaching and Consulting LLC at 732-314-6758 ext. 100 or via email at newbeginningsspiritualcoach@gmail.com

Four sons as four different experiences of the Seder

The four sons described in the haggadah represent different approaches to engaging with each other and ourselves during the seder.  In reflecting on this section of the haggadah, we most often focus our attention on the chacham, the “wise” son and the rasha, the “wicked” son, comparing and contrasting the questions they raise and the answers given.  This debate is an essential element of engaging with the haggadah, in that we must struggle between our hyperfocus on carefully fulfilling the various rituals of the seder while also wondering what is tonight’s value and worth. 

            After the wise and wicked, we come to the third and fourth sons, the tam, the “simple” child and the one who doesn’t know what to ask. At first glance, most of us presume these “sons” are merely unable to reflect on the depth of Passover’s meaning.  For the simple son, this means asking a direct and simple question, “what is this.” And for the one who doesn’t know how to ask, our picture is usually of a young child, with the lesson being that we are responsible to teach the story to all, regardless of how they are able to engage.

            However, if we take a step back from our pre-conceived ideas about these four sons, perhaps our approach on the seder night can change as well. The Haggadah’s text doesn’t indicate if any of the four children is really so distinct from the other.  All we have are the single word descriptions related to the type of question posed. Imagine all four sons being about the same age, the same type and having been educated in the same way.  How do we know that these four are really so much different?  Since we recognize that the four sons is a paradigm for four different ways to approach the seder, we can presume there is a commonality between the four.  As such, allow me to offer a nuanced, variant way to read the four sons.

            Wise son:  The wise son, in asking about various details of the halachot for Pesach night, is the person whose relationship to the seder night is to the formal and intricate details of the night’s rituals.  Notice that this is the only son for whom we do not quote from the Torah.  Instead, the answer given is to review the laws of Pesach all the way until the idea of not eating after the afikoman.  This is a means of encouraging the experience of Pesach being tied into the rituals of the night. Yet, while the intricacies are of value, the wise son’s question seems to be missing a whole other element, relating to the story of Pesach night.  Nevertheless, we don’t try to steer this child into a different conversation.  Rather, we meet the child in their “wisdom.”

            Wicked son:  The wicked son is always a complicated topic as we read the question, in which he asks “what is this worship to you,” in a more negative tone than the wise son’s similarly phrased question of “what are all the laws, statutes and rules that Gd commanded you.” Leaving aside the various debates about why the distinction is made between the two questions, I want to focus on the response.  Sometimes, we sit at the Seder and honestly feel left out, feel alienated, feel like it isn’t speaking to “us.”  It can get to the point where we just wonder what’s the point of all the fuss on Passover night.  As such, the wicked son is saying, why are we bothering with all this, it doesn’t relate to me.  The response is jarring, not to run off the “wicked” son, but to respond to the despondency and frustration with a harsh reality check.  For this son, like the wise son, we engage the person where they are at in the moment.  This person won’t relate to the discussion of the laws of the night, nor for that matter a whole review of the story, at least until such time as the “wicked” son is able to become reengaged in how this story of our redemption is a story that should relate to him.

            As we can see from these first two sons, for many at the seder, the engagement with the seder is a deep, profound and also challenging experience. Yet, as is becoming clear, even in the dialogue of the wise and wicked, we are not just beholden to the script but must have the flexibility to engage with the person where they are at. I think this becomes more pronounced when we reflect on the simple son and the son who doesn’t know how to ask. 

Simple Son and Son who doesn’t know how to ask: Often times, we wait and wait for the perfect, deep, profound question. On Passover night, many a times we contrive to come up with the philosophical question that allows for a long conversation around the table during Maggid. And while that is a lofty goal, perhaps there is another way to approach the Seder. If we approach the Seder “unprepared” then we can approach it as more of the experience of the night rather than the intellectual undertaking that it often becomes. In certain ways, the wise and wicked sons both seem to lose sight of the experience of the night. Meanwhile, the simple and the one who doesn’t know how to ask, provide two examples of how important the overall experience of spontaneity at the seder can be in relation to the impact of preparation and reflection before joining together Passover night.

The simple son’s question of “what is this” implies not simplicity from ignorance but rather, the question of, “as we sit here tonight, what is the lesson of the night?  What is the message we are to walk away with?”  The answer given, “With the strength of [His] hand did the Lord take us out from Egypt, from the house of slaves’ (Exodus 13:14),” indicates that the primary lesson of the night about Gd redeeming us, bringing us out of the slavery towards freedom, is the ultimate take away message.  We might forget the long debates, the details of the arguments, but we should never lose sight of this most fundamental lesson. 

            Regarding the one who doesn’t know how to ask, the answer, strangely, is the same verse we offer the wicked son, “And you will speak to your son on that day saying, for the sake of this, did the Lord do [this] for me in my going out of Egypt (Exodus 13:8).”  We deliver this verse is a softer way to this last son, not because the last son is a small child who just is too young to know what to ask.  Rather, like the simple son, the one who doesn’t know how to ask is sitting at the seder, experiencing the rituals, reading the haggadah and presumes that there is nothing more they need to ask.  Yet, the goal is to personalize the experience. We invite this person to join in by introducing the idea that just like Gd did for me, so too Gd does for you.  We are not denying the experience in the moment of this last type of person.  Rather, we want to make sure this last son is engaged in the seder as an experience of the present, not just of the past, so we personalize it. 

            When we look at the four sons in this way, we can now see the commonality of the types.  All four are engaging in how to best experience the seder.  Each approaches it from a different vantage point.  And we respond from where that person is at.  Yet, I would also suggest that within the various answers we are also trying to expand the experience beyond where the person is most comfortable.  With the wise and wicked, we offer extreme answers to both engage and to push them to go beyond themselves. 

Most of us have moments of all four types during the Seder.  The four sons become the blueprint for how each of these modes of thought can be brought together to enhance our Seder night.  As such, whether we feel wise, wicked, simple or just can’t seem to find the question, we can and should engage one another in ways that invites the different parts of ourselves to truly be able to fulfill, “In every generation a person is obligated to see themselves as if they left Egypt.”

Nissan and Renewal

Yesterday marked the new month of Nissan in the Jewish calendar. According to the Torah, the month we know as Nissan is the first month of the Jewish calendar:

הַחֹ֧דֶשׁ הַזֶּ֛ה לָכֶ֖ם רֹ֣אשׁ חֳדָשִׁ֑ים רִאשׁ֥וֹן הוּא֙ לָכֶ֔ם לְחדְשֵׁ֖י הַשָּׁנָֽה׃

This month shall mark for you the beginning of the months; it shall be the first of the months of the year for you.

While this date is not celebrated or formally acknowledged as the new year (for that we wait until the 7th month, Tishrei, when we celebrate Rosh Hashanah), Nissan is an auspicious time as it was the month of the Israelite redemption and the first month commemorated by the Israelites in Egypt, which we acknowledge in a special reading from Exodus (12:1-20) on the Shabbat preceding or coinciding with the new month.

In light of the Israelites new beginning, I wanted to reflect on new beginnings and the symbolism of this new day and month. In the lunar calendar, a new month begins when the moon is no longer or almost no longer visible from Earth. The month encapsulates the amount of days the moon cycles from invisibility to full visibility to invisibility again. This cycle can be a symbol for how life goes for many of us. In the words of Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski:

Whereas the secular calendar is based on the sun, the Jewish calendar is based on the moon. Many commentaries remark that there is a symbolism in the lunar calendar. After reaching its maximum brightness, the light of the moon begins to decrease until it disappears completely. Then, out of the darkness a bright new crescent appears.

This is something to remember when circumstances in life are such that we find ourselves in utter darkness, without any visible sign whence our salvation may come. We should know that out of the depths of darkness, a new brightness can appear…

Living Each Day p. 181

While every month contains this message, in a way this idea is most exemplified by the story that places in Nissan, leading up to Passover. On the night of Passover, the main section of the seder, Maggid (telling the story) is designed as a microcosm of the first 15 days of the moon’s cycle, as we are to tell the story through the eyes of going from slavery to freedom, from darkness to night. Passover night in a way is the apex. Yet, after the apex, the climax of the Exodus, the actual leaving, the Israelites lives wax and wane, with moments of terror and fear followed by moments of redemption and hope.

Perhaps this is the lesson of the days leading to Passover. We must prepare for both the celebration and integration of what redemption means and also prepare for the realization that a redemption is also a new beginning and new opportunity. And new opportunities are not easy, not always shining with light. Sometimes the path is dark even after part is lit up.

May this be a season of renewal, of new beginnings, or finding the light when things seem dark and finding the tools to combat the waning light that often happens after reaching the next step.

Looking for methods to foster feelings of renewal: Contact New Beginnings Spiritual Coaching and Consulting LLC at 732-314-6758 ext. 100 or via email at newbeginningsspiritualcoach@gmail.com

Purim 2022/5782 – Incomplete Joy/Complete Joy

Tonight begins the holiday of Purim, which focuses on the story told in Megillat Esther, set in Persia approximately 2500 years ago. Purim is a festive, fun, topsy turvy day, celebrating Jewish survival from the midst of an evil, genocidal decree. The victory and survival bring about a tremendous sense of relief and joy. This is best described in Esther 8:16:

לַיְּהוּדִ֕ים הָֽיְתָ֥ה אוֹרָ֖ה וְשִׂמְחָ֑ה וְשָׂשֹׂ֖ן וִיקָֽר׃

The Jews enjoyed light and gladness, happiness and honor.

Yet, if we take the story as a whole, something is missing. The book of Esther ends with the Jews in the same place as they were at the beginning, remaining under King Ahasuerus’s rule in Persia instead of returning to Israel and rebuilding the Second Temple.  In fact, the story ends with the anti-climatic moment of the Ahasuerus placing a tax upon all who live in his land, showing how surviving a genocidal decree doesn’t mean being free from the whims of weak leadership and potential oppression.  How can we celebrate while also sitting with this sense of incompleteness?

I would like to suggest that celebration is warranted, even if the story seems incomplete. In the moment of triumph, we can feel a tremendous burden lifted off our shoulders, leading to a sense of exhilaration or a sense of relief.  I contend most of us can find many experiences in our lives where this sense of relief in the moment might even lead us to a temporary happiness.

For the Jews of Shushan, surviving Haman’s decree provided this sense of relief.  As such, they celebrated their newly found “new lease on life.” Their celebration was one of communal care and support, guaranteeing all could celebrate through the giving of Mishloah Manot (gifts to friends) and Matanot L’Evyonim (gifts to the poor).  Subsequently, this celebration was established as a yearly practice, as being able to celebrate Purim was proof of continued survival, and the importance to taking the time to reflect on the moment. 

At the same time, 2500 years later, with the fortune of hindsight, we are led to question what were the long term gains of this survival.  They continued to be under foreign rule.  Eventually, the lightness, the relief goes away, and the reality of life returns, with all its trials and tribulations.  Yet, by establishing Purim, we are acknowledging the value in celebrating even a good that might not be complete, recognizing that it is right to celebrate momentary victories even when they remain incomplete.

This is a fundamental life lesson. While keeping the end goal in front of us is important to our journeys, if we don’t take stock in the middle, enjoying the pieces of the story each of us is writing, then we miss opportunities to reinvigorate and reinvest ourselves in our growth. May this Purim be a reminder of the importance of taking the time to celebrate the steps along the path the goals we have set for ourselves.

Updated from the piece I originally wrote here:

Find the joy in the steps along the path to change. Contact New Beginnings Spiritual Coaching and Consulting LLC at 732-314-6758 ext. 100 or via email at newbeginningsspiritualcoach@gmail.com

Swaying like a flame – Hanukkah Day 3

There is a relationship between the flame of the candle and prayer. According to Rabbi Nissan Mindel in his introduction to My Prayer:

Our soul has, in fact, been called the “candle of G‑d.” The flame of a candle is restless, striving upwards, to break away, as it were, from the wick and body of the candle; for such is the nature of fire—to strive upwards. Our soul, too, strives upwards, like the flame of the candle. Such is its nature, whether we are conscious of it, or not. This is also one of the reasons why a Jew naturally sways while praying. For prayer is the means whereby we attach ourselves to G‑d, with a soulful attachment of “spirit to spirit,” and in doing so our soul, as it were, flutters and soars upward, to be united with G‑d.

https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/682090/jewish/The-Meaning-of-Prayer.htm

The ideal of prayer is the revelation of what is already living deep within ourselves. By reflecting, saying words and through a bit of movement, we are investing our whole selves into the process. Through this, we can bring light into our day.

Tonight, as you are watching the flames of the Chanukkah lights swaying, reflect on the candle as a symbol of the yearning of your soul, your spirit, to bring light into the world through the words and actions of prayer.

For more information about New Beginnings Spiritual Coaching and Consulting LLC, and how we can support you on the journey through the waves of life, please check out: https://achaplainsnewjourney.wordpress.com/about/

Celebrating hope – chanukkah day 1

Last night we began the eight day celebration of Hanukkah. The traditional story of Hanukkah describes how the Hasmoneans, upon recapturing the Temple Mount from the Seleucid Greeks, where left without the ability to light the menorah in the Temple. Fortunately, after much searching, they came across a single jug of oil, which would have been sufficient to last for one day. Miraculously, the oil burned for eight days until they could get more pure olive oil to light the menorah on a daily basis as part of the Temple ritual.

One of the famous questions about this miraculous event is why do we light for eight nights when the miracle was that while they had enough for one night, the oil lasted an additional seven nights? One answer to this question is presented in Growing Each Day by Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski. He states:

…They did light the Menorah anyway, reasoning that it was best to do what was within their ability to do and to postpone worrying about the next day until such worry was appropriate. This decision elicited a Divine response and the Menorah stayed lit for that day and for seven more.

This miracle was thus initiated by the Jews themselves, and the incident was set down as a teaching for all future generations: concentrate your efforts on what you can do and do it! Leave the rest to God.

While even our best and most sincere efforts do not necessarily bring about miracles, the teaching is nevertheless valid. Even the likelihood of failure in the future should not discourage us from any constructive action that we can take now.

pg. 86

Whenever we are faced with “not enough,” many of us will freeze and give up instead of forging ahead and having the confidence that our efforts will be of value. While there are no guarantees, this is an example of better to have tried and failed than to have failed to try at all. As one strives for new beginnings, it is important to always remember the journey begins with one step, one flame, one light.

Happy Hanukkah!

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Put Your Heart in It

How many of us struggle to find the inner meaning and spirit in ritual practice, whether it is something we do daily or something we do once a year. I recently read a story that illustrates the need for the heart to be a fundamental component in our actions. The story is taken from Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski’s (o.b.m.) daily reader Smiling Each Day (p. 20):

One Succos the Baal Shem Tove was sitting with his disciples and appeared to go into a trance. After a few moments of profound concentration, he emerged from his exalted state with a bright smile adorning his already holy countenance.

“In the celestial spheres” he announced, “there had been a great expression of joy, and I was curious as to what had brought this about.”

“It seems that a simple Jew had been traveling by foot, and in order to reach home for Succos, he took a shortcut through the forest. Unfortunately he became lost in the thicket, and soon realized, to his great dismay, that not only would he not be home with his family for the holiday, but, even more distressing to him, he would not fulfill the mitzvah of Succah! This last circumstance he simply could not bear, and as the sun began to set, he was suddenly inspired to rip off the top of his hat and cover it with branches and leaves. Being a person of little learning, he thought this would constitute a succah, and so, danced with joy that he had thought of a way to fulfill this precious mitzvah.”

The holy master concluded, “Although he of course did not fulfill the mitzvah, his intent was so pure and sincere that it caused great joy among the Heavenly host.”

From this story, Rabbi Dr. Twerski suggests that while it is important to fulfill the rituals properly, it is equally important to find the inner heart within the fulfillment. Taking this a step further, the ideal focus of our actions should include a sense that each time we perform an act, a ritual, we are doing something new, even if it is a daily practice. We always have a new opportunity to infuse our actions with heart.

As we approach the end of the fall Jewish holiday season, may the joy and meaning was have felt during this time carry us into the remainder of the year, helping us find new beginnings each and every day. May our daily routines be infused with a renewed love and joy for what we have the opportunity to do.

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.