Year in Review: 5769

As Rosh Hashanah approaches, I try to review my year. The Jewish Year coming up is 5770, and the year just ending, is 5769. Last year I started a tradition of doing that, in part, by doing a review of the year in the blog. I’m continuing that tradition this year. It looks to me like there have been 62 posts since last Rosh Hashanah. So let’s review the year.

It seems like the year was dominated by deaths and endings. These started right at Rosh Hashanah with the death of my dear friend Pam Webb. Then there was Cat Saga, starting when we adopted Shadow. It seemed an auspicious start, but by the time I took her to the vet a few weeks later, there’s already a tone of frustration (though also some pictures). After this, about 3 weeks later we decided to bring her back to the humane society, but they couldn’t take her for about 2 weeks.  Then Artemis, my most beloved cat, died. I tried to write an appropriate remembrance of her, but failed. Eva wrote her memorial to Artemis for me. I still intend to write about her one of these days, but I’m not quite ready yet. The loss of Artemis was a big blow to me this year.  Shortly thereafter, Shadow, still not coming out to visit us, was again captured and returned to the humane society.

The downside of this year really was capped off by CubeSpace folding. My first post as we were figuring out what was going on, linking to the CubeSpace blog, and other places to catch people up. The next post on the subject, was our farewell, which I posted on the CubeSpace blog and linked to. Then there was the post about my plans after-CubeSpace. My post on last day of CubeSpace was definitely sad, as was the day. And then my post, most of a month later, about moving forward. And then about my first disastrous interview for a job.

There was also some joy and celebration. Politics was definitely a significant part of this year. Election night, a super quick post. The next day, I spent some time looking at Obama and Hope and optimism. A list of things I’m thankful for in honor of Thanksgiving. Then came innauguration, which I live-blogged.

There were definitely reflections on ways I was stretching: new types of projects I was working on. And how many types of projects I was working on towards the end of this post. And how many things seems to hit all at once. And just how busy life is, and how to do lists seem to be growing, not shrinking.  How frustrating computers can be when I’m trying to stretch. Again with the whirlwind of life. And being tired after barcamp. And then trying to figure out how to organize time after CubeSpace, and mindfulness as a tool to do so. A few days later I was writing about how we use words to organize our understanding of the world.

As always, rabbinic work spurred some writing. A post about my first weekend with a congregation in Bend. Or my recurring Rabbinic nightmare of being unprepared. I talk a little about the spriritual experience of performing a wedding. A rant on the subject of the lack of marriage equality, in response to false news that Prop 8 had been overturned. A post about how I, as a rabbi, have something to say. A post about how I write, and how I write sermons. More reflections on God and spirituality were spurred by burying a teenager.

There were reflections on Judaism and Jewish Spirituality, starting with some thoughts about Yom Kippur. Also some thoughts about Shabbat, as noticed by my not observing it. Some reflections on Humility, followed immediately by a humorous view of humility. Then came Passover, and a post about Passover and the Tough Economy. Immediately following Passover, begins the counting of the Omer, and I talk about my Omer practice for the year, reading spriritual text. I then share some thoughts on theology, coming out of Tomer Devorah. I finished up the year with some thoughts on Rosh Hashanah prayer.

Reflections on Portland and nature, and seasons, and the like. Walking home from work, and how it’s different from walking to work in the morning. Also a post on walking to work in the rain. And also Portland and the Portland technical community, and the nature of electronic community. Then there was Sam Adams, and his indiscretions, and my plea for people to let the dust settle. Wonderings about how the community could pull together in the face of the economic disaster area. Followed immediately by the flowers of Portland. And then, more photos of flowers. Also a post about the CubeSpace Community as a Spiritual Community. And then a post about gratitude, and expressions of gratitude.

There was a little bit of knit-blogging, but not much. Working on mittens on a deadline. I also revisited those mittens in this post. I started a lace scarf, but really never got very far with it.

There was some deliberate humor. Thanksgiving, and how not to do it. An already mentioned post about humility. Some attempted humor about how busy I was. A Psalm for Purim amused me.

Some stuff defies classification: Preparing for my Ignite Portland presentation and the a wrap up of Ignite Portland; A survey on what you want me to blog about. A post about how Eva and I do anniversaries, not necessarily in the most normal ways. A post for the Portland Interview Project in which I interview Grant Kruger. A short film I embedded because I thought it made such a good point about religion. Some thoughts about memory. I wrote about reading introductions. A list of workshops I’d like to teach.

It was, all in all, a really tough year. I got through it with love and help from friends and family. I’m really hoping we don’t need as much help in the coming year.

Sign Me Up for the Good Life

Rosh Hashanah is coming up faster than I expected, just as it does every year. The month of Elul, leading up to Rosh Hashanah, is a time of introspection and preparation. For me, it is a time of beginning to review the prayerbook and remind myself of the prayers we will recite. I begin to study them, and think about what they will mean to me this year. One phrase repeats itself, in a number of minor variations, throughout the liturgy: “Incribe us in the book of life.”

In the Avinu Malkeinu, (Our Father, Our King), we find it in this form: “Our Father, Our King, write us into the book of good life.” This leads me to ask. What do I mean by this? What does it mean to be inscribed in the book of good life?

I know what I don’t mean. I don’t intend that God simply make everything go well for me in the next year. I don’t mean that God should protect me from death over the next year. I don’t mean that I believe there to be any sort of physical book (or physical God, for that matter), and that the presence or absence of my name in it determines my future.

What I do mean, I think, is that it would be nice, if over the next year, I had some sense of what decisions I can make which will lead me to living a good life; a life full of meaning, a life full of joy. It is a plea that I be able to, with Divine providence, see the good in whatever should happen to me over the coming year. It is even the plea, at some deep, pre-rational level of my brain, that good things happen to me over the coming year.

I may not rationally believe in a “wish granting God,” but prayer isn’t always rational and doesn’t always have to be consistent with our theology.  Even if my prayer is incapable of being answered, just praying it may be enough. Being willing to put out there what I would really like, even with no real expectation of possible fulfillment, can be useful.  While talking to a friend about the car you’d really love to own, you don’t expect your friend to give you the car, but it can be nice to talk about it anyway.

So when I pray, “Kotveinu b’sefer chayim tovim (inscribe us for blessing in the book of good life),” I’ll be pouring out my heart, hoping for the good in the coming year. And as always, I’ll be praying, fundamentally, not because I expect God to act on my behalf, but because it feels good to pray as though I do.

The Year that Was

Every year at Rosh Hashanah, I try to look back over the year which passed, the events which have transpired and how I’ve changed. This year, I thought I might do some of that by looking back over the blog posts I’ve written since last Rosh Hashanah. 

I’ve written 95 blog posts (this will be the 96th) since last Rosh Hashanah, going back to last October and this post, wherein I was noting how strange it was to move from the workaday world to sitting with a family as a loved one died. It was light postings through December, as I was really getting my feet under me as a congregationally rabbi in Salem. I was learning to balance the roles, while still talking about knitting upon occasion. 

There are the posts that describe specific events from the year. There’s the post talking about how I invoked the Oregon State Senate, which was amazingly cool. Also when I passed the 100,000 mile mark on the car, and thinking about where the car had taken me. There was the time I saw a pair of raccoons in the yard. There’s the post I wrote as I was leaving Salem. 

Then there are the feline related posts. We adopted Chloe and were excited. A week later she was dead, and I wrote my prayer for a dead pet. Ten days later, we faced a much harder loss. Diana, who had been with me for 14 years, died. 

There are posts about the connections between knitting and spirituality. And posts about my experiences teaching Sunday school and bar and bat mitzvah students. And posts simply about Jewish Spirituality and theology. 

There were a whole slew of posts about Shabbat. Some commenting on how ready for it I was, some on how I planned to spend Shabbat. 

There are a huge number of posts about knitting, and I can track my progress through various projects over the course of the year. I note a few times that I seem to have a lot of projects going at once. My celebration of finishing a shawl that took about 6 months. 

I note a number of posts talking about how much I’m enjoying what I’m doing, but I’m exhausted because I’m doing too much. 

 And also a post about how cool it is that I get to perform weddings. And several posts about doing funerals, how satisfying it is, and how hard it can be.

There are blog posts about me. About me feeling like I’m getting older and that my brain is less efficient. 

There were some humorous posts (or at least attempts). One about Hannukah. One about Purim and Talmud and Knitting. A post about why I haven’t been posting. A very mildly humorous post about fictional items for auctions. A post about Rosh Hashanah sort of rounded out the year. 

There were post about flowers and the coming of spring. A post about cleaning up the front yard. And a post when I realized I’m not going to have the garden I’d hoped to have this year. Then I took some pictures of flowers on the way to work. 

Also some posts that are among the most frequently searched by keywords. One about the fact that life isn’t fair, usually in our favor. Another on the subject of being strangers in the land of Egypt. 

It’s been a long, full year. I’ve been at CubeSpace and at the congregation in Salem. I’ve performed 8 weddings, and 6 funerals. I done 9 bar or bat mitzvahs. It’s been a long year, and a good year. I’ve grown and become more the person I want to be. I’ve shared much of that with you all who read my blog, and it’s been a privilege and a pleasure. You’ve made insightful comments and sympathetic comments. 

May the new year be a good year for all of us. Shana Tovah umetuka. A good and sweet year to us all.

Hineini: My High Holiday Theme

Many rabbis come up with a theme for the high holidays (Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur), some idea which ties together all of the sermons to be delivered. Usually, I make do without such a theme and deliver sermons which are relatively unrelated. This  year, I’m not delivering any sermons, but have a theme for myself, nonetheless.

It all began when someone put a post on ravelry asking what would be an appropriate word or phrase to crochet into a kippah (yamuke) for the high holidays. Which I thought was a great question. What would I want on the kippah I wore throughout the High Holidays?

I finally came up with one word: Hineini (here I am). It is the response which many biblical figures give to God when addressed by the Divine. It is a statement of readiness to perform the Divine work. It is an affirmation that one is fully present to the world which surrounds us.

This year, during the High Holidays and beyond, I’m planning to work on being more fully present in my life and my work. To think more about what I can be doing to make the Divine manifest in the world through my actions. My goal is to lead life more intentionally, and less by accepting the default options set before me.

It is easy to do things which come naturally to us. It is the tasks which are difficult, challenging or scary which require us to respond, “Hineini.” Too often I pass up those tasks which are difficult or challenging, staying in the nice safe realm of things I am good at and enjoy. But to do good work in the world, it is necessary to step outside of our comfort zone. To be present to opportunities and challenges, rather than simply coasting through and doing the things which we always do, the things which we do easily.

This year, and this High Holiday season, I will try to answer, “Hineini.” I will try to be present during congregational prayer, of course. But I will also try to be present in all of my interactions with people at CubeSpace. I will try to bring my full attention to everything I do. And in so doing, perhaps I will help make the world a somewhat better place for those with whom I interact.

Rosh Hashanah: Preparing the Soul

After my last post, I figured I ought to produce something a bit more serious about Rosh Hashanah for some balance. So, in a slightly more spiritual vein, here are some thoughts about preparing for Rosh Hashanah. 

One of the prayers we recite on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur speaks of the various fates that may befall us in the year to come. It asks, “Who shall live and who shall die? Who shall be serene, and who shall be troubled?” It does not answer this question, but it does provide us with an important insight: “Teshuvah [repentence] and Teffilah [prayer] and Tzeddakah [righteous acts or charity] avert the harshness of the decree.” We are not taught that our behaviour will change what is fated to happen to us, but rather, that our behavior will change how we are impacted by what happens to us. It is not the decree which can be changed, but who we are.

So what are these three items which can so transform us, which can make unbearable harshness in life seem bearable?

Teshuvah: Literally, turning. Moving away from wrong action to right action. Re-evaluating who we are and making changes. Changing who we are to match up more closely to our ideal vision of ourselves. This is all to say that by acting in a way that we consider more holy, we are better able to withstand the troubles of our lives. When we are comfortable with who we are and how we are acting, we are more secure. We questions ourselves less, and the minor annoyances are easier to bear. We do not become self-righteous (self-righteousness is, if anything, a sign of somone who is so uncomfortable with themselves that they need to project their sense of right behavior onto others). Rather, we become more truly who we should be, and more able to accept life on its own terms. 

Tefillah: Prayer, communing with the Divine. Communing with that part of the self which is most in touch with the Divine. Prayer is not necessarily about speaking specific words (though it can be). It doesn’t have to be a process of asking God for favors, or praising God’s greatness. Prayer is any act which brings you closer to Divinity or holiness in a meaningful way. Sometimes we do that by speaking the words of ancient prayers, finding new meanings in them, new understandings of Divinity as we pray the words. Sometimes the words serve only as a mantra to free our mind to reach out to the Eternal in primal, yet unvocalized, need. Sometimes prayer is about connection to community, all of us standing together and praying the same words. Sometimes it’s about connection to our tradition, praying the same words our ancestors have prayed for thousands of years. Sometimes we pray whatever is on our mind at that moment, using it as a bit of a quiet time between you and God. Any and all of these forms of prayer can quiet the soul. They leave us feeling better, and more ready to accept the world. We see the interconnection of all life when we pray, and are more open to the world around us. 

Tzeddakah: Righteous action, often used to mean giving to charity. The distinction between Tzeddakah and charity comes down to the roots of the two words. “Charity” comes from a root meaning love. “Tzeddakah” comes from a root meaning righteousness. Thus while charity may be done from a place of compassion or love for the one to whom you are giving, tzeddakah is given because it is our responsibility to do so, and doing so is the only way to live life appropriately. While tzeddakah is praisworthy, it is also required. And while it is required, it also benefits the giver. By giving, we are reminded that there always those who are worse off than we are. No matter how badly we are feeling about the way life is treating us, there is someone worse off. And how bad can we feel about our lot in life when there are those who would trade places in an instant?

“Teshuvah, Tefillah and Tzeddakah remove the harshness of the decree.” They contextualize our lives, and help us to understand who we are. They strengthen us and help us to see who we can become. They help us to accept life on its terms, and to make the most of the times of celebration, and weather the storms with Grace. 

Shanah Tova Umetuka: May the New Year be a good and sweet year.

Rosh Hashanah: Celebrating the King.

Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, is coming remarkably soon. With it comes God-imagery that many of us find difficult to relate to, the image of God as King. So I thought I might take a little time to help explicate this, and maybe introduce a new piece of liturgy for the central part of the Rosh Hashanah service: Malchuyot, or Sovereignty. 

First off, it is important to understand that we are not speaking of a democratically elected president. No, The King is something entirely different, with great power, and praise, aclaimed by all. The relationship to the King is complex, a mixture of love, fear, trembling. Therefore, I offer this new arrangement of Malchuyot verses for use in services this year. 

We approach the King with Awe and Trembling, as much as with Love. As it is written: 

My hands are shaky and my knees are weak
I can’t seem to stand on my own two feet
Who do you thank when you have such luck?
I’m in love I’m all shook up
Mm mm oh, oh, yeah, yeah!

This is one image of our relationship with the King. Yet there are others. There is the demand that we, in turn, love the King: 

Love me tender,
Love me true,
All my dreams fulfilled.
For my darlin I love you,
And I always will.

Yet the king is not all love. There is also the anger and disappointment:

You aint nothin but a hound dog
Cryin all the time.
You aint nothin but a hound dog
Cryin all the time.
Well, you aint never caught a rabbit
And you aint no friend of mine.

When they said you was high classed,
Well, that was just a lie.
When they said you was high classed,
Well, that was just a lie.
You aint never caught a rabbit
And you aint no friend of mine.

Yet through this all, through the turmoil of life, the travails, we are reminded that must celebrate. Even when we feel that we are in the “jailhouse”, it is incumbant upon us to celebrate, and cling to our Rock. 

The warden threw a party in the county jail.
The prison band was there and they began to wail.
The band was jumpin’ and the joint began to swing.
You should’ve heard those knocked out jailbirds sing.
Let’s rock, everybody, let’s rock.
Everybody in the whole cell block
was dancin’ to the Jailhouse Rock.

But in the end, it comes down to our assertion, that there is only one King: 

Only you
Can do make all this world seem right,
Only you
Can do make the darkness bright,
Only you, and you alone
Can feel me like you do
And do fill my heart with love for only you.

And let us say, Amen. 

 

Now, there are those who say that we ought to more gender-neutral, and praise the Queen as well as the King. However, the problem with that is this: The Queen is known to be bitchy, and therefore fearful beyond our ability to pray. Thus do we pray to the King, and hope that the Queen will be absent when it comes time for the Judging.