Tag: journeying forward

Blessings are reminders – “Who provided me all I need”

During these past few months, I have been working on a personal goal of slowing down and paying attention, specifically during the three times a day in which I pray. This process has afforded me the opportunity to more deeply connect to the words I recite on a daily basis. At times, I come across something that I have been saying over and over and find myself stuck on the word or phrase, trying to incorporate its message into my remaining prayers and beyond.

The other day, in the midst of reciting the daily blessings in the Siddur (prayerbook), I found myself “stuck” on one blessing

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם שֶׁעָשָׂה לִי כָּל־צָרְכִּי:

Blessed are You, Adonoy our God, King of the Universe, Who provided me with all my needs.

While I have said this blessing thousands of times, on this day the words resonated more acutely. What does it mean to bless Gd “Who provided me with all my needs?” Am I being true to this blessing when I, like most, spend an inordinate amount of time trying to accumulate, to gain, to “guarantee” I have? Am I truly grateful for what I do have? Perhaps I need to allow this blessing to be a guide to help me cultivate gratitude for all I have.

I decided to further investigate this concept and came across a comment in the Koren Ani Tefilla Weekday Siddur.

Almost of the blessings are in the present tense yet this one is expressed in the past tense. Why not say “who gives me all I need?” Oftentimes sadness, hardship, and misfortune may appear to be filling up our lives but it truly is only later, further on down the road, that we can see that it all happened for a reason. Only then can we thank Hashem for what previously seemed to have been bad. A man could have found what seemed to be the perfect job: great pay, great location, and great facilities. He goes in for an interview, thinks he got the job, gets excited, and then finds out that he did not get this position. He is distraught, upset and quite puzzled. Why would he want to thank God for all He does? Only after he gets his new job with better pay, a better location, and better facilities can he thank God for not granting him his originally desired position. Only then can he distinguish the forest for the trees. The Siddur helps give perspective to our lives. (Based on R. A. Twersky).

Koren Ani Tefilla Siddur – Weekday Edition – P. 31

When reciting this blessing, I find it important to take a moment and reflect on how we have arrived at this moment, on this day, to this place in life. By finding that ability to bless, to praise, to be grateful for where we have arrived from, we can find ways to enhance the day ahead, imbuing the day with a renewed sense of purpose. By taking the moment to the see the forest and not just the trees, we can gain an increased sense of gratitude at the more complete, yet always evolving, picture.

May today and everyday be one in which we recognize what was and find ways to enhance the was to further along our new beginnings.

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.

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.

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:

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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.