Welcome Back, Hallway Kiddush

Dear Hallway Kiddush,

Back in January, our minyan was so sad when you abruptly stopped being part of our Shabbat minhag so we could instead go downstairs to the sanctuary at the end of our chapel service and greet Shaaray Tefila’s newest b’nai mitzvah and their families.

We missed the Manischewitz (yes, it’s true!), our schmoozing, and linking up to touch someone who was touching the challah before we recited haMotzi. Without these rituals that we all know and love, our Shabbat felt incomplete and…a little bit empty.

Thank goodness you’re back!

Now, we once again get to spend time with you each week and – if we want – also go downstairs to join the other part of the synagogue community. It helps to have a reserved row in the sanctuary, where we can sit until it’s time to ascend the bimah. And, it seems we’ve already started our own “downstairs minhag,” pointing out to each other young girls’ dresses whose hemlines are, as my grandmother would say, “up to her pupik,” and so tight around they can take only teeny-tiny steps. While we wait, it’s also interesting to see the families’ color choices for the yarmulkes. Having always enjoyed “assigning” names to particular hues, I dubbed yesterday’s yarmulkes “Shrek green,” with no malice intended. I call ’em like I see ’em -- and I love Shrek!

In any event, it’s nice to have you back and perhaps, with practice, we’ll get as comfortable with the downstairs part of our Shabbat as we are with the upstairs part.

Shavua tov…see you next week,
~ Jane.

My Takeaway From This High Holiday Season

Many times, in recent weeks -- for a variety of reason -- I found myself thinking, “Ughhh, I’ve had it with the Jewish people,” and as the High Holidays drew closer, I found myself less and less inclined to attend the marathon of services I knew was around the corner.

Tonight, in an email, a friend asked, “I am curious if you eventually did sit out all the Holy Days. If so, how did that work for you? If not did you find worship satisfying?"

Here’s what I told him:

I sat out erev Rosh HaShanah and the first day. I did, however, attend the second day, the service at which I am honored each year with an opportunity to chant Torah. Usually my dad comes with me to that service, but with his imminent move (the packers are coming tomorrow, the movers on Tuesday) that wasn't feasible this year. However, he was able to watch the live stream, which he enjoyed quite a bit.

I did not attend any Yom Kippur services, but I did watch a bit of the live stream from Shaaray Tefila, including yesterday's sermon, as well as some of the Facebook live stream from my parents' congregation in New Jersey. I was OK not attending services and felt as though I was taking care of me, which is something I don't do very well or very often. Also, as a regular minyan-goer, I know that prayer is not easy and that it takes hard work. With everything else going on at the moment, I did not have the bandwidth necessary to make my worship truly meaningful.

I am looking forward to festival morning services on Sukkot and Simchat Torah, when it will be safe to go back into the sanctuary. I love Hallel -- and the switch to mashiv haruach umorid hagashem. After that, things will go back to "normal" in our weekly minyan -- and we'll start all over again with B'reishit in Torah study.

But first, our family will close the door for the last time at 12 Webster Road on Tuesday, after which I think I'll have a huge sense of relief that the stress, anxiety, and anticipation surrounding the move will finally be a thing of the past for all of us. I hope that we'll all enjoy wonderful new beginnings and many celebrations in 5778.

In his response, my friend shared a perspective I had not previously considered: “What a great reflection on skipping what many Jews do, and what joyful anticipation of doing what many Jews don't!” Regarding my dad’s move from our childhood home, he wrote, “In memory, 12 Webster Road will always be yours. It continues to shape the you who you are!”

Thanks to our email exchange (and the insights of my friend), I’ve arrived at my takeaway for this High Holiday season: I truly love Jewish living and learning 51 weeks of the year -- and I should revel in the joy they bring me, and not feel guilty about the rest.

#BlogElul 5777: Begin

Photo: Flickr user @sufeco/CC

My High Holiday season begins in July, when the URJ’s communications team starts planning updates and new content for the ReformJudaism.org website and blog. I’ve been reading, writing, and editing High Holiday material since August. At this point, I can spell S’lichot, Un’taneh Tokef, and Shanah tovah um’tukah in my sleep – with all the apostrophes in the right places.

After so many weeks and countless submissions, coupled with these nightly #BlogElul posts, I’m weary, and but for the fasting, I feel as though I’ve already done much of the spiritual heavy lifting the season demands.

Piggybacking on an idea from a friend and colleague, I’m pondering the possibility of beginning some personal High Holiday traditions (and refining others I began last year) that will give me some balance – and a respite from the Jewish people. As others rush to squish into pews, folding chairs, and theater seats in congregations and other venues the world over, I may opt to sleep in, have a leisurely breakfast, take a walk, read, ponder, reflect, appreciate, nap, and enjoy some much-needed quietude. I may do so on Rosh HaShanah only or, save for the leisurely breakfast, on Yom Kippur, too. Maybe on the erevs, maybe not. As my father is fond of saying (and you know he has an expression for everything), “I’ll see how the spirit moves me.”

Ultimately, I suspect that this bit of self-care – of which there never seems to be enough – may be just what I need to wipe the slate clean, turn over a new leaf, and begin to be my best self (or at least a better self) in the new year. And after all, isn’t that what this season is all about?

Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima , this #BlogElul post is one in a series marking the days of the Hebrew month of Elul, which precede the Jewish High Holidays and traditionally serve as a time of reflection and spiritual preparation for the new year.

#BlogElul 5777: Pray

Last week, I received an email from a publicist inquiring if I would like a review copy of the new and updated edition of the The Book of Blessings by Marcia Falk. I jumped at the chance to acquire a copy of a book that has long been on my wish list.

As if in synch with #BlogElul, the book – full of poems, blessings, and prayers – arrived today, when the daily prompt is “pray.” How fitting.

It is late and I am tired, but even a quick perusal of the book’s pages tells me it overflows with spiritual beauty and sustenance. Its words, carefully strung together, form an intricate lattice that helps us reach our souls, our hearts, our God.

There is much exploring to do amidst its pages, but tonight, now, this is the blessing I pray:

Blessing Before Going to Sleep

Sleep descending
on my lids,
on my limbs,

I call to mind
the gifts
of the day—

the gift
of this day—
and give thanks.

Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima , this #BlogElul post is one in a series marking the days of the Hebrew month of Elul, which precede the Jewish High Holidays and traditionally serve as a time of reflection and spiritual preparation for the new year.

#BlogElul 5777: Hear

Last week at a worship committee meeting at my synagogue, a committee member offered a d’var Torah about The Ani Tefilla Weekday Siddur, an Orthodox prayer book designed for high school students. It offers four different commentaries, interpretations, or explanations on each of the prayers recited during daily worship:

1. Biur tefilla: offers a thorough explanation of the text of the prayer, sometimes focusing on one word or phrase, as well as the prayer’s context within the service.
2. Iyyun tefilla: offers a philosophical and theological interpretation of the prayer.
3. Hilkhot tefilla: offers the laws and ritual requirements of daily prayer. (Hilkhot (laws) is from the same root as halachah (the collective body of Jewish religious law).
4. Ani tefilla (I pray or I am prayer): is designed to help students bring their own meaning to the prayer, making it personal and an extension of themselves.

The Ani tefilla for the Shema (the central prayer of Judaism that begins, “Hear, O Israel,…”) offers students this story:

Rabbi Eliezer Silver, a leader of American Orthodox Jewry in the twentieth century was president of the Va’ad Hatzala or the Rescue Committee for Jews who survived the Shoah. In that capacity, he travelled in post-war Europe looking for Jewish children who had ended up in non-Jewish orphanages, most often sponsored by the Church. In one such case he came to an orphanage in Alsace Lorraine asking if there were Jewish children there. He was told that there were none or that they could not be identified as such; their origins were unknown and they themselves had forgotten where they were from. Rabbi Silver insisted that he nevertheless be permitted to see the children and he was finally allowed to do so for a few moments before their bedtime. He walked into a room filled with beds of children preparing to go to sleep. He called out “ Shema Yisrael Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Ehad” and immediately a young child cried out “Mommy!” Soon other voices joined in as children began to come forward crying out for their mothers. “These children are mine,” he said to the priest. “I will take them now.”

Every time I think of this story, I get chills. What poignant reminders it offers us for the new year: to hear small voices, whether they belong to us or to others; to persist in pursuing what we know is right and just; and to work to find individual meaning in our prayers.

Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima , this #BlogElul post is one in a series marking the days of the Hebrew month of Elul, which precede the Jewish High Holidays and traditionally serve as a time of reflection and spiritual preparation for the new year.

#BlogElul 5777: Search

Dear Elul,

I know you’re a big deal month on the Jewish calendar, but quite honestly, I’d like to hibernate when you show up. Okay, maybe not the second you roll around, but starting about midway through, I’d be happy to sleep right through to Sukkot.

I’m sure my lethargy has something to do with too many years of working for the Jews, or as my friend Victor likes to say, being enlisted in “HaShem’s Army.” It’s exhausting (and frequently infuriating) and, sadly, leaves me with little energy or mental bandwidth for my own holiday preparations or logistics. By the time Rosh HaShanah finally arrives, I have no patience for pews crowded with strangers – Who are all these people and if they really want to be here, why are they talking so much?! – and little inclination to tackle the spiritual heavy lifting the season demands.

This year, I’m in search of new, creative ways to embrace the High Holidays – beyond #BlogElul (which is a true gift each year). I don’t yet know what those things will be, but I’m open to ideas, suggestions, and possibilities that will offer opportunities for meaning, fulfillment, and community. They’ll make me eagerly anticipate (or at least not dread) services (and all that goes with them), and won’t make me wish I already was at the tail-end of a break-fast. Even if they can’t do all that, I’m hopeful that whatever I decide to do, it will help alleviate – even if only a smidge – my I-want-to-hibernate blues.

It’s a tall order, I know, but I’m optimistic that you (maybe in collaboration with Tishri?) are up for the challenge. What do you have for me, Elul?

Thanks,
JanetheWriter

Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima , this #BlogElul post is one in a series marking the days of the Hebrew month of Elul, which precede the Jewish High Holidays and traditionally serve as a time of reflection and spiritual preparation for the new year.

#BlogElul: Pray

I’d like to pray during the upcoming High Holidays like I do on Shabbat – in an intimate setting, surrounded by familiar people and melodies. At the end of the service, we’d have the usual hallway Kiddush and then retire upstairs for a nosh and Torah study. (OK, we’d skip the Kiddush and nosh on Yom Kippur.)

Who’s with me?

Inspired by Ima on (and off) the Bima, this #BlogElul post is one in a series marking the days of the Hebrew month of Elul, which precedes the Jewish High Holidays and traditionally serves as a time of reflection and spiritual preparation for the new year.

Missing Nehama

Dear Nehama,

I miss you.

Two weeks ago was Chemo #11, last week was Chemo #12, and even though Chemo #13 for my sister was yesterday, I just didn't have the get-up-and-go this morning to make it to minyan.  I figured I'd make it uptown to see you at noon, but when I looked at the clock again, it was 11:04, and I knew that neither seeing you nor enjoying a "Shabbos bagel" during Torah study this week was meant to be.