Divah World

Birthday Presence

I've come to the realization that the later decades in life take more preparation for adjustment than the earlier ones. Turning forty started at thirty-nine and took until forty-one to take hold. The preparation for fifty started at forty-nine and today, as I celebrate my fifty-first birthday, I think I can begin to have a handle on this half-century decade.

I think that as we get older, we gain more of a capacity to live in the present. The past is basically gone--it lives as part of our present moments, but loses it's own identity. The future has more of a finality to it than ever before. You begin to realize that you're not really sure how much future you've got left. So life becomes more of what is happening now, in the present.

As a meditator, and one who leads meditation groups, I talk a lot about the gift of the present--a gift we rarely give ourselves at any age. But it's one thing to be present in meditation--as hard as that  can be--and quite another to keep living life in the present.

That is the gift of age--the realization that everything we've done up to this point leads to this present moment. We need to revel in that moment without too much concentration on what lies ahead. By concentrating on the present moment, we build what ever the future will hold. We can still have some semblance of control over the present---what will happen in the future is anyones guess.

So as you move through your life, whatever age you are at, don't overlook the present. It incorporates all that has past; it will be a part of all that lies ahead. It's where we live our lives.

When being present becomes difficult----just stop and breathe---it is the most present thing we have.

Assaults from Within and Without

Yesterday and today marked the beginning of the Hebrew month of Tammuz (when the month before is 30 days, we celebrate both the 30th and the 1st as Rosh Chodesh - Why? click here for an explanation).

Tammuz is the month when Jews mark a 3-week period of mourning--from the 17th of Tammuz, when the walls of the Temple in Jerusalem were breached, through to Tisha B'Av, the 9th of Av, when the Temple was destroyed. It's a time that brings awareness to the assaults on our spiritual center.

This year as we start Tammuz, we are reminded that there are assults to the world on many fronts. This year I awoke on Rosh Chodesh Tammuz to the news of the bombings in London. It's horrible in so many ways, on so many levels. My heart goes out to those who lost loved ones, people who lost their lives for no other reason but being at the wrong place at the wrong time. My heart goes to those who have ever lost loved ones to terrorism, for each new act makes their pain fresh.         

Simple Mitzvahs

Sometimes, it's the small good deeds that matter. They may not change the world, but they make living in the world a bit brighter. I like to think that the small deeds I do enter inter a larger stream of deeds that flows around and maybe even come back to me. I wrote about one instance of this back in April in a post on Counting the Omer. More of that happened this weekend.

This afternoon, before leaving to go to a barbeque at Golden Gate Park, I called my friend Mitzi Wilner, giving her Rabbi Lew's address so she could send him a get well card (he's recovering from knee replacement therapy). She was glad I remembered. We also talked a bit about services, and the singing that we do during the service and, recently, at kiddish--the get togther after services where we say the blessing over wine, bread, and share in varying quantities and qualities of food (depending on whether there is a sponsered celebration or not :)

Mitzi is a holocaust survivor, and she remarked that the singing brings back good memories of her childhood and her family. She is a survivor, like my friend Goldie Rassen and Beverly Pinto's mom Erna, who has stayed close to her Jewish faith, as I have written in an early post called Goldie. Giving an address, singing--small things I can do to make someone feel good. Things I don't even think much about.

After speaking with Mitzi, we left for the park, stopping first to pick up some ice and waters. I went into Safeway, thinking I had $20 in my pocket. Got the items, and waited at the check out line behind a group made up of 2 parents, their friend, and their 3 small boys. Seeing the food they were buying, I guessed they were also going to a barbeque, and talked to the kids about that--a nice interaction. While still waiting for their items to be processed, I reached for my money, only to realize that there was not a $20 bill in my pocket, just some ones. I start searching all my pockets, seeing what I can come up with. The grand total came to four dollars and some change. So when it comes to my turn I start to ask the checker to ring up just the ice, not sure that I can cover the waters, when the friend from the group in front says "I'll cover the difference" I protested, but he stayed. I was short a dollar. He smiled, gave the clerk the dollar, and went on his way.

Once again, my faith in people is renewed. We need to keep doing the small things--they add up. And they all enter into the grand stream of life.

Studying through the night

The past two days, June 13 & 14, were the Jewish celebration of Shavuot. Shavuot has many other names--Yom Habikkurim, the day of first fruits; Matan Torah--the giving of the Torah; the feast of weeks, ending the counting from the second day of Pesach. In the Christian tradition, it is referred to as Pentecost, from the Greek "fifty", since it is 50 days after Pesach. It is one of the three major pilgrimage and harvest festivals in the Jewish tradition, the other two being Sukkot in the fall and Pesach, at the start of spring.

The main theme of Shavuot is the giving of the Torah, the first 5 books of the bible, at Mount Sinai.
To commemorate this event, it is customary to participate in a Tikkun Leil Shavuot, an all night study session culminating in a sunrise service. There is a tradition that says that at midnight, the words of the Torah rain down from heaven. There are times it definately feels that way.

At Beth Sholom, our night of study had bookends of very appropriate Torah Study. Rabbi Lew, in his last Tikkun Leil as our rabbi, taught about the meaning of receiving the Torah. with material from the Sefat Emet. In the morning, before starting the Shacharit-morning-service, David Malman taught us the hand signals for the Torah trope, the chanting of the Torah. He used me to demonstrate and I have to say, it was pretty cool. I may have to have him gabbai for me one Shabbat when I'm leyning-chanting-a difficult portion.

I'm often asked why my connection to Jewish practice is so strong. To tell the truth, I don't always really know or understand it myself. But on nights like Tikkun Leil Shavuot, I get it. First of all, it's another place to feel the support and importance of community--we go through the night together.

On a deeper level, staying up all night studying, then entering into prayer from that, brings the teachings to another level as you are brought to a different state. A tired state, yes, but that works as well. As we start the prayer service, your mind is spent, at rest. I think that gives easier access to the soul.

I ended the event by chanting an amazing, mystical, psychodelic Haftarah. I won't attempt to explain it, read it for yoursef, Ezekiel 1:1 - 28; 3:12. The power of my chanting comes from a place deep inside, when I am done, I am spent--close to tears. I have placed myself at Sinai.

Ritual or Magic?

This week's Torah parsha, Naso, contains rituals that seem like magic--a potion that reveals the truth, the consecration of one's hair as a sign of holiness, a formulaic incantation to keep one safe, twelve days of the same exact offerings. Somewhat strange for a religion that tends to rage against sorcery. It's one of those places that seem to harken back to an ancient pagan time.

In Torah study this morning we discussed the issue of ritual vs magic--are they different entities, are they one and the same? Whatever side you weigh in on, there is an element of faith in believing in the outcome.

As I've been thinking about this, I think one difference between them is in expectations. In magic, for the most part, the actions are designed for a specific outcome. Rituals, at least most of the ones in Judaism, are performed to increase mindfulness. With magic, your faith is in what will happen. With the rituals, your faith is in simply being--increasing awareness of life. I'm sure there are exceptions to both, but that seems to be the overriding themes to me at this moment.

If anyone has other thoughts on this, please share them......

L'Dor V'Dor

This past Saturday was Maddy Simpson's Bat Mitzvah. It was a really warm, heartfelt event. Judging by the people who spoke to me, I would say many of us in the sanctuary felt it. Part of the feeling came from the pure joy of the event--there was no stress (this was helped in no small part by the fact that Maddy is the youngest of three sisters :). Part of the feeling came from the fact that the Simpson's are a family that is involved in the synagogue, which heightens the sense of community. But there was one particular aspect that really touched me---something that was traditional yet new---something that epitomizes why I am able to look to my Judaism as my spiritual center---something that really spoke to my involvement with the practice.

More and more these days, the B'nai Mitzvah families have family members read Torah. It's a wonderful way to honor the Bar/Bat Mitzvah. At Maddy's Bat Mitzvah, her mother, two sisters, and a close friend of one of her sisters each read Torah. And, I should say, they all read beautifully. Although women reading is certainly the norm for Beth Sholom, this Shabbat brought home to me the changes in Judaism since I was a girl.

At my Bat Mitzvah, held on a Friday night, I read the Haftarah, the selection from the Prophets that all B'nai Mitzvah read. That was all I was allowed to do. Now, at the time--1967--that was still somewhat bold for the Conservative movement. There were no women rabbis, women could not get an aliyah (something I always wanted), and women didn't count in the 10 needed for certain prayers to be said in synagogue. I wish I could say this has now all changed. I wish I could say the synagogue I grew up in continued to open all aspects of Jewish practice to women. Unfortunately, they are still holding Bat Mitvahs on Friday night, women do not get aliyot, and it's a good guess that women do not count in minyan.

At Beth Sholom, there is no gender disparity in ritual.  It is one of the reasons I can be there, embracing the practice and the community with a full heart. It's the reason I am filled with joy when I think of the Bat Mitzvah Shabbats of the young girls I see in shul. They are as much a part of Judaism as the boys, and there is no reason for them to think otherwise.

So mazel tov to Maddy and her family. And thanks to them for exemplifying the living soul of Judaism, a soul that will continue to live and grow l'dor v'dor, from generation to generation, truly encompassing all.