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ROSH HASHANAH: Letting Go
Consider: Rosh Hashanah is the first day of the Jewish year. In this time of new beginnings, we begin by looking back at the past year. We regard where we have been, what we have done, and what we have said. We consider what we are proud of and what we might do differently. Jewish tradition teaches that the ten days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur hold special spiritual weight - it is during these ten days that we have the particular opportunity to make amends. This may mean reaching out to others to set things right, or reaching inwards and apologizing to ourselves. As we contemplate these ideas, let's take care to look at ourselves honestly - and lovingly. We can choose to let go of the weight of anything that keeps us from growing. (And yes, it’s easier said than done!). The sage Maimonides (1134-1204) reminds us that this is a multistep process: “The one who has done wrong shall stop, and remove wrongdoing from their thoughts, and wholeheartedly conclude not to revert back to it. So, too, shall they be remorseful on what was past. In addition, one speaks aloud their intention.” Reflect: What behavior do you hope to let go of this year? Recall, too that this is a multi-step process. The first step is drawing our attention to the behavior or thought pattern. Then we scan out, and ask ourselves, what do I need to let go of in order to avoid reverting to this behavior/thought pattern/speech in the future? How can I make the letting go easy on myself? Act: The ritual of tashlich, “casting away,” is a traditional way to release our wrongs. Historically, people have thrown bread into water, but - it's 2022, and the more environmental choice is to throw rocks or stones into water. When was the last time you got to throw something with all your might? Can throwing the stones, rocks, or leaves into the water be joyful or hopeful? Allow yourself the freedom to play, to mix seriousness with fun. Alone or with family/friends, take a walk to a flowing body of water. Gather some stones, rocks, or leaves. For each rock or leaf, focus on one thing that you wish to let go of. When you are ready, throw the item into the body of water, with the intention of letting go or casting away your wrongs. Let the water wash them away. Let yourself be freed. How does it feel? Let us know by sending us an email ! Musical Selection (if you choose): Damien Rice: Trusty and True
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The High Holy Day season is upon us: Summer has ended, the school year has arrived. The Jewish calendar invites us to begin this year with intention. This is the season of cheshbon hanefesh, the accounting of the soul.
Often, cheshbon hanefesh can feel intimidating: who really wants to take a deep look at how to change? Honest introspection is hard work! Plus, the whole world is filled with opportunities to explore how we “don’t measure up,” and with reminders of the pressing work that we must do to build a more equitable country. Yet, in order to effectively move forward, we have the collective opportunity to look at where we have been. Though this guide is meant for individual use, we can take comfort knowing that we are held by the Jewish calendar, by years of accumulated Jewish wisdom, and by the knowledge that somewhere - both here in Westchester, and throughout the world – there are other members of our community looking inward, too. How do I use this guide? Great question !
Offering #2: Healing in the month of Elul Consider: One of the focal pieces of the High Holy Day Liturgy is Avinu Malkeinu, in which we collectively pray for compassion. Leonard Cohen makes a similar request in his song, Come Healing: “Behold the gates of mercy in arbitrary space And none of us deserving of cruelty or the grace O, solitude of longing where love has been confined Come healing of the body, come healing of the mind. O, see the darkness yielding that tore the light apart Come healing of the reason, come healing of the heart. O, troubledness concealing an undivided love The heart beneath is teaching to the broken heart above...” Reflect: Though Leonard Cohen’s words are beautiful, the actual task of wrapping our heads and hearts around the healing we need in our own lives is often elusive. Consider that healing can come from the offering of loving presence. Simply noticing and naming the parts of our lives that need healing is a significant step toward healing. As you consider what healing you might need this year - healing of body, heart, mind, reason, recall that healing, mercy, and love are abundant. Act: As you contemplate the spaces where healing would be welcome in your life, check in with your body. Close your eyes, and take a deep breath. Place your feet flat on the ground. Take another breath. Where is your body holding tension? Offer that space another breath. Where does your body seek openness or flexibility? Take another breath. Repeat a few times, if you’d like. When you are ready, open your eyes. If the idea of searching for the spaces in your life that need healing, doesn’t resonate, perhaps you might think more broadly. Where does our world need healing? What issues concern you nationally or locally? Who might you connect with in order to bring forth healing? Can you pick up the phone or write a letter? To expand this activity and explore with your family, use these prompts to begin a conversation: Where does our household need some healing? Are there parts of our daily routine that have gone a little off course? Are there new habits we might want to start together, or maybe just one? Let us know how this works for you by leaving a comment or sending us an email to hello@sanctuaryny.org ! The High Holy Day season is upon us: Summer is coming to an end, the school year has arrived. We start routines anew, and the Jewish calendar invites us to begin this new year with intention. This is the season of cheshbon hanefesh, the accounting of the soul.
As we enter this season, we offer you this guide. The season of cheshbon hanefesh can feel intimidating: who really wants to take a deep look at how we might change? Honest introspection is hard work! Plus, the whole world is filled with opportunities to explore how we “don’t measure up,” and with reminders of the pressing work that we must do to build a more equitable country. Yet, in order to effectively move forward, we have the collective opportunity to look at where we have been. Though this guide is meant for individual use, we can take comfort knowing that we are held by the Jewish calendar, by years of accumulated Jewish wisdom, and by the knowledge that somewhere - both here in Westchester, and throughout the world – there are other members of our community looking inward, too. How do I use this guide? Great question !
Offering #1: ELUL - Reflections in Love Consider: The High Holy Day season begins with the month of Elul, 30 days before Rosh Hashanah, the New Year. Tradition teaches that Elul, written in Hebrew as אלול, is an acronym of the phrase אני לדודי ודודי לי Ani L’dodi V’dodi Li, from the Song of Songs (6:3), meaning “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” The language of belovedness adds another dimension to love, implying an active sense of protection, deep affection, and generosity toward the subject. We may love plenty of people, ideas, and things, but we only treat a select few as beloved. Our task this and every High Holy Day season is to face the exercise of cheshbon hanefesh, the “accounting of the soul,” as though we ourselves are beloved. This may feel intimidating, yet each of us can choose to courageously look at ourselves. We can bypass the instinct to see flaws and nothing else. We can embrace the idea that transformation is easier when we approach with love - with belovedness. Reflect: As we face the season of cheshbon hanefesh, how might you account for yourself in a way that reflects the sentiment that you are beloved by the Divine? Before you say, “What? Beloved by the Divine? As in, God? Whoa!!!! I can’t even wrap my head around the idea that I am beloved by GOD,” consider that belovedness can be a counter to the harsh judgment we too often offer ourselves. If we lead from compassion and belovedness, we do not need to be intimidated by the act of looking our choices. If it helps, imagine that you are your own best friend, or child, or partner - someone to whom you are accustomed to offering grace. Act: Take some time to compassionately enter the season of reflection. Sit down in a quiet place that you can make your own. Light a candle (perhaps one that smells sweet). Sit with some of your favorite snacks (something you might offer to your beloved - chocolate, anyone?). Take a few deep breaths to simply be. On a blank piece of paper, write your responses to the following questions: Who is beloved to me? Who am I beloved to? How do I treat those who are beloved to me? How do I treat myself as beloved? To expand this activity and do it with your family, use these prompts to start a conversation: Who do we each love? Who loves each of us? How do we treat those we love? How do we treat ourselves with love? Bonus: What do you think the word "beloved" means? Consider having this conversation at a cozy, relaxed time - at the dinner table, or on the couch. Consider listening to a familiar High Holy Day song, such as Avinu Malkeinu, a song that describes a loving, compassionate God. I love Shavuot, because it's our mountain climbing holiday! We stand at Mount Sinai and receive the gift of Torah once again.
We never hike the same mountain twice. The weather and our companions always define the experience, and whatever is going on in the world within us and the world around us often frames our time on the trail. This is also true for the Torah we receive each year. We never hear the same story twice, because we are changing and growing. And our world is certainly in flux. This year I've been thinking about the hardest section of a mountain climb. It's not the very first steps, because those are full of excitement and energy, even if there's a dose of trepidation. The most challenging part, in my experience, is what follows. It's the initial stretch before you've earned a water break or a view. Sometimes you can still hear cars driving on the road. It's all work and no glory. But it's the foundation of the journey, so you can't skip it. It turns out the hardest of the 10 commandments given at Sinai may be found in a similar spot: not the first instruction but the second one. The first announces the relationship: "I am the Eternal your God who brought you out of the land Egypt." It's exciting and energizing, even if there's a dose of intimidation. But then the second commandment explains: "You shall have no other gods besides Me." Our ancient ancestors were very concerned about idol worship. Although most of us are probably immune to the allure of the gods Ba'al and Asherah, we're upset and angry about our country's continued struggle with other forms of idolatry: the worship of power; the worship of guns; and the worship of individual rights, except, of course, when it comes to a woman's choice. This year ascending the mountain feels like fleeing to the hills, as the waters of despair and destruction roll in. What I am holding in my heart is the possibility that the wisdom of mountain climbing can guide us. We are in that hardest stretch at the base of the hill, at the beginning of the commandments. That's the reality. But if we can elevate what matters most - family, justice, compassion and peace - above all other temptations, we will make progress. If we can worship the source of these values, or at least commit ourselves to expanding their presence in our lives, then change will come. Step by step, the climb will grow easier. We will build momentum, hope and perspective. May this year's climb energize us. May the view inspire. May we find healing and health in the hills. As we reach the close of this most unusual and challenging school year, I'm feeling many emotions all at once. Jewish wisdom invites us to mark these moments in time with blessings. I offer these words for all of us who have been caring for the children in our midst.
May we allow ourselves to exhale. May we feel relief alongside our exhaustion. It was uncertain and imperfect. But our children learned and grew. We witnessed resilience and flexibility come through. We found masks that fit. We remembered the daily health forms. We stayed home and got tested for the community's sake and our own peace of mind. We balanced physical risk and mental health. Our teachers reimagined their classrooms and routines. Our kids learned to sit at desks and all sorts of computer skills. We learned how to keep them company and let them be. We discovered new depths of fear and new sources of gratitude. Each phase came with a pivot, and we found our way through. Source of Life and Love, Holy One of Blessing, Thank you for the gifts of our precious lives, For the strength to take on challenges small and large, For the support we feel when we reach out to one another. Grateful are we for reaching this season of the year. After what felt like too many days of gray skies leading into 24 hours of heavy rain, my daughter and I managed to get outside for some fresh air and exercise late on Saturday afternoon.
When we turned to head home on the Boston Post Road, we could not believe our eyes. The setting sun was remarkably bright and beautiful. It looked like a ball of fire dropping into the horizon! I did some research to better understand the sight we beheld. How could a setting sun produce so much light? One of the explanations felt obvious once I read it, and yet, it was exactly the message I needed: During sunset, the sun remains in the sky even after it has mostly gone dark. Our eyes are adjusted to lower light, and so the sun appears brighter. After being immersed in darkness for such a long time, we have arrived at a surprising opportunity. Now a small amount of light holds the power to transform our world. This is the miracle of Chanukah, back then and right now: One flame can pierce the darkness. A little bit goes a long way. And if we dedicate ourselves for 8 days, we'll see and feel a difference. So this Chanukah, let's dedicate ourselves to introducing new sources of light in our windows and on our tables, in our relationships and our routines, and in what we read and share with one another. There's a lot of darkness to dispel, but a little bit of effort, attention and play can truly brighten our days! For families with kids at home, I put together 8 Nights: 8 Ways to Celebrate with Light as a guide for spreading light and marking the holiday together. We're also gathering on Zoom this Saturday for a special book reading and latke demo (details below). For all of us, may we count the miracles in our lives right now - small and large. May our eyes soon sense a new surge of light, love and connection. May the sparks of change glow within us and around us and become an amazing sight to behold. Tonight begins the holy day of Shavuot. 7 weeks after our annual exodus from Egypt, we stand at Sinai to receive Torah anew.
The image I've always associated with this core collective memory is a throng of people at the base of the mountain. Adults are shoulder to shoulder, with babies held close and children grabbing onto a parent's hand or leg. We stand as one. This year my mind envisions a similar but distinct scene with everyone, or at least family units, spaced 6 ft. apart. We stand together, but also apart. So how might we bridge that space between us? On this holiday often celebrated with all night study sessions, it's clear we are each learning so much life wisdom right now. An amazing amount of Torah is being revealed and received. The teachings may not be new, but we are seeing them with new clarity and holding onto them with new conviction.
PLEASE share your response to one of the questions above - either by replying to this email or through this form. I'll collect all the insights, and share them back. Don't overthink. Do it now. Just one. It's Shavuot. Whether you're down the street in Larchmont, or a friend further away, share what's true for you. This will bridge that space between us. This is how we stand together, and also apart. This is how we put Jewish wisdom in dialogue with modern life. This is how we create Sanctuary when we need it most. 3/31/2020 1 Comment Salt Water Tears & Signs of SpringWe’ve basically stopped using our front door. Our shoes, jackets and hats have all migrated to the back of our house. Because when we go out, it’s now almost always into our yard.
Our red front door facing the outside world has started to remind me of the thresholds the Israelites painted with blood that night before leaving Egypt. They were seeking protection, praying that the terrifying plague would pass over their homes. The list of what makes this Passover different from all other Passovers is long: Our gatherings will be small, our menu will be simple, the hand washing will be less obscure, and the story may feel closer to home. I know it may be overwhelming to even think about gathering your household at the table for a seder of sorts this year. But I also know that, if we can create an opening, the ritual will bring new power, comfort and connection. Because that’s how the Exodus began: with households gathered in their own homes for a special meal of gratitude, feeling both eager and anxious to leave their place. Like us, the Israelites were confronting an unethical ruler driven by ego. Fed up and frustrated, they cried out for help, but didn’t understand exactly how liberation would be possible. Like us, they didn’t know how they’d get through to the other side of the sea or travel through the wilderness or what they’d find when they eventually reached the Promised Land. Despite all these fears and unknowns, the people managed to band together, and recognize a larger Force in their lives. They navigated the way one step and one day at a time. And that’s my hope for all of us in the weeks ahead. With this in mind, our upcoming Circles and Gatherings (see that page) will focus on the wisdom of Passover. We'll even make our own matzah, because all you need is flour, water and 18 minutes! May we learn to blend bitter with sweet, fear with love, and the tears of so many losses with hopeful signs of spring. May the courageous ones who cannot work from home stay safe and protected. May all who suffer find relief. 2/25/2020 0 Comments What language does your soul speak? Music, nature, or bedtime stories? Now is the time to find out!This past July, every Tuesday at 2p, I would sign into a zoom call and land in a beautiful circle of parents facilitated by an educator in Jerusalem who had just put her own children to bed. Each week for an hour, we'd step back from our daily routines of parenting and focus on who we each were becoming as parents.
We spoke about souls - the souls of our children, the souls of our partners, and the souls that make us our unique selves. We grounded the conversation in Jewish wisdom, and shared stories about the struggles, challenges, and profound moments of accompanying our children through life. The meetings were transformational, and after the summer series ended, I missed the weekly ritual we had created. So I signed up for the next series on love, and am looking forward to the May meetings on presence. Most of all, I am very excited to share the same Becoming a Soulful Parent curriculum with you starting next month (more details here). With everything going on in the world around us - the Coronavirus spreading, the Democratic candidates debating, the Russian bots and trolls looming, and the snowless winter confusing our internal clocks - I become overwhelmed, and I know many of you do, too. Then I take a breath, and remember: With everything going on in the world around us, making space to consider and refine how we are bringing ourselves to the enormous task of raising the next generation is crucial. Now is the time to focus on the preciousness of human souls, our core characters, and the divine sparks within that make us feel most grounded in life and connected to others. The world needs us to be more human than ever, and I think that starts with soul speak. Our ancient ancestors employed one Hebrew word nefesh to describe our throat and neck (that allow for breathing), breath itself, a living being, one's personality, and one's center of feelings and perceptions. Our best attempt to convey this range of meanings in English is to speak of the "soul." One practice for hearing what our soul has to say involves sitting quietly and breathing, and then speaking honestly about our experience of life. More often than not, we have to help the soul open up. It's not always easy to hear. If music is what stirs your soul, we're experimenting with a House Concert this Saturday (details here - you can pay at the door, but we still need you to RSVP!). If nature is your ideal sanctuary, we're doing a winter walk earlier in the day on Saturday (details here), and aiming to have more outdoor experiences this summer into next year. If your children have engaged new parts of your spirit, then Becoming a Soulful Parent may be a great place for you. May our souls speak loudly, and may we be wise enough to listen. 2/14/2020 0 Comments Growth Beneath the SurfaceHappy Tu B'Shevat! Tu B'what?
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Rabbi Bethie Miller writes periodic reflections on the state of our world and the Jewish project. She also writes about creative ideas for combining Jewish wisdom with our modern lives. Here are links to previous ones:
Looking for Hope at the Seder Table (4/13/22) Happy 9th Night of Hanukkah (12/6/21) The Healing is in the Return (8/18/21) Time to Pray (11/2/20) The Secret to At-One-Ment (9/27/20) Taking a Sharp Left Turn into 5781 (9/15/20) Waking Up One Day At Time (8/31/20) This is Real and You are Completely Unprepared (8/18/20) The Day is Short (6/16/20) Spiritual Mountain Climbing Without Leaving the House (5/14/20) Shabbat Peace, Love & Light (3/20/20) Sources of Connection as We Practice Social Distancing (3/16/20) Purim Has Never Felt So Resonant (3/9/20) The Miracle of Chanukah (12/20/19) To Be Jewish is To Be Grateful (12/2/19) What I Learned During the High Holy Days (10/16/19) New Year, New Project - Welcome to Sanctuary (10/3/19) |