is there a way for a troupe of traveling wedding dresses to bring comfort to those in pain? The deep craving to bring comfort to those who, like many of us, found pain and fear at a finish line rather than joy and celebration, haunted me through the many days of the Boston tragedy. I am not an EMT...I am not a celebrity...I don't have the voice to lead a group in the national anthem...so what can I do?
I can give blood...which I do on a regular basis. Yes, blood is needed, and I know that it saves lives, but that seems so distant. I can send money....but money is not comfort. Money often complicates rather than soothes.
So what about a walk by women in wedding dresses past the finish line. Women in white celebrating Boston. Would we fill the hearts of Boston runners like the old chant:
"A river of birds in migration, a nation of women with wings."
as we walk with our lace and silk and satin and cotton blowing around our legs, our trains flying like kites behind us? Would a river of white be a show of force to those who would threaten our courage?
Would you join me?
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Counting the Omer
Counting the Omer teaches that the journey is at least as important as
the destination. We focus on counting for forty-nine days without
rushing towards Sinai and Torah. This slow quiet process builds a sense
of inner faith. As a people we remember that even slaves can stand up,
shake off shackles and walk towards Torah. It is not only the heroes of
the story that matter; Moses, Aaron and Miriam might lead us, but we
freely choose to follow.
Several years ago I counted the Omer during a difficult personal time. My mother was ill, I was flying between Denver and Los Angeles while teaching, working, helping my husband graduate, helping my brother manage his fears, hosting an Israeli cousin and raising a puppy. Often the only quite time I had was either on an airplane (unless I was grading papers) or before bed as I counted the Omer.
This year I am again faced with major life changes while counting the Omer. My Mom is thinking of moving to Denver, my husband is job hunting, I have a newish (since October) Dean job that is very demanding, and many of my friends are in transition and needing support. And, as usual, I forget to take my vitamins, spend hours on a treadmill to settle my stomach, and forget to pray. My temple attendance has dropped, and I seem to forget that I can talk with G-d.
And so, I am counting.
Again, my concerns are calmed by a small action. My large looming fears and frustrations are comforted by a simple process. Again I realize that I do not need to have the answers or the solutions. I just need to show up and do the work presented to me.
II am wearing the same bracelet that I ordered from the Cardo in Jerusalem engraved with the biblical sayings associated with my Hebrew names: Chava Rachel. Chava is associated with Proverb 31: “She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her task.” Rachel is associated with Deuteronomy 32: “See now that I myself am He! There is no G-d besides me. I put to death and I bring to life, I have wounded and I will heal, and on one can deliver out of my hand.”
The message aligns with the message of the Omer. It is my job to show up, but I am not in charge of the process. I am an important musician, but not the conductor of the orchestra. The questions that haunt me have answers in quiet practice, in Torah and in mitzvoth.
The counting of the Omer reminds me that what I do, what all of us do, matters more than the title we wear. Small everyday quiet actions matter. The choices I make daily can lead me toward holiness. My individual actions count within a nation of people walking from slavery to choice, narrowness to open mindedness, from sin to Torah. The task is to open to receiving through simple counting, study and learning, all of which brings me closer to G-d.
A frightened exhausted people left Egypt, just as I find myself frightened and exhausted over the tasks before me. The Omer teaches me to start with the fear inside me, to leave Egypt, and that the courage will come. We can start with doubt, reach the sea that blocks our way, step into the waters and as the waters part the faith will come. We can start with counting and Torah will come.
The powerful message of counting the Omer is buried in a story about the Baal Shem Tov, who on a voyage to save the Jewish people forgot every prayer and every bit of Torah. The story takes place in the time frame of the first day of Pesach to the seventh day, when the Baal Shem Tov is returned home (interestingly, it is on this seventh day that the Israelites crossed the Reed Sea). His scribe (or daughter depending on the version of the story) who was traveling with him could only remember the aleph- bet. In Hebrew the aleph- bet represent a form of counting since numbers are represented by letters. The letters inspired the Baal Shev Tov,
“As soon as R. Israel Baal Shem Tov heard that R. Hersh still remembered the alphabet, he told him, "Good, say the letters for me!" R. Hersh began to recite, "Alef, beis, gimel, daled, hei...." And the Baal Shem Tov repeated every word with great fire. R. Israel Baal Shem Tov said, "Ribono shel Olam, Master of the world: Do You need the prayers of a simple person who is called Israel? If so, I am reciting the letters before You, and You, merciful Father in heaven, braid them Yourself into a wreathe of prayers!" (Shulman, Y.D, 2001)
And with this the Baal Shem Tov and his scribe were saved. Clearly a small act with great intentions can shift the world, which is why this story is told on the last (8th) day of Passover following afternoon prayers during the Baal Shem Tov’s feast. This is the end of the first week of the counting of the Omer, and hence marks the end of the first cycle of sevens.
It is through counting that the Baal Shem is saved. It is through counting that we are returned to our union with G-d and holiness. It is through the simple act of counting that we find our way when we are lost. It is through the simple act of counting the Omer that we find Refuah and T’shuva.
Several years ago I counted the Omer during a difficult personal time. My mother was ill, I was flying between Denver and Los Angeles while teaching, working, helping my husband graduate, helping my brother manage his fears, hosting an Israeli cousin and raising a puppy. Often the only quite time I had was either on an airplane (unless I was grading papers) or before bed as I counted the Omer.
This year I am again faced with major life changes while counting the Omer. My Mom is thinking of moving to Denver, my husband is job hunting, I have a newish (since October) Dean job that is very demanding, and many of my friends are in transition and needing support. And, as usual, I forget to take my vitamins, spend hours on a treadmill to settle my stomach, and forget to pray. My temple attendance has dropped, and I seem to forget that I can talk with G-d.
And so, I am counting.
Again, my concerns are calmed by a small action. My large looming fears and frustrations are comforted by a simple process. Again I realize that I do not need to have the answers or the solutions. I just need to show up and do the work presented to me.
II am wearing the same bracelet that I ordered from the Cardo in Jerusalem engraved with the biblical sayings associated with my Hebrew names: Chava Rachel. Chava is associated with Proverb 31: “She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her task.” Rachel is associated with Deuteronomy 32: “See now that I myself am He! There is no G-d besides me. I put to death and I bring to life, I have wounded and I will heal, and on one can deliver out of my hand.”
The message aligns with the message of the Omer. It is my job to show up, but I am not in charge of the process. I am an important musician, but not the conductor of the orchestra. The questions that haunt me have answers in quiet practice, in Torah and in mitzvoth.
The counting of the Omer reminds me that what I do, what all of us do, matters more than the title we wear. Small everyday quiet actions matter. The choices I make daily can lead me toward holiness. My individual actions count within a nation of people walking from slavery to choice, narrowness to open mindedness, from sin to Torah. The task is to open to receiving through simple counting, study and learning, all of which brings me closer to G-d.
A frightened exhausted people left Egypt, just as I find myself frightened and exhausted over the tasks before me. The Omer teaches me to start with the fear inside me, to leave Egypt, and that the courage will come. We can start with doubt, reach the sea that blocks our way, step into the waters and as the waters part the faith will come. We can start with counting and Torah will come.
The powerful message of counting the Omer is buried in a story about the Baal Shem Tov, who on a voyage to save the Jewish people forgot every prayer and every bit of Torah. The story takes place in the time frame of the first day of Pesach to the seventh day, when the Baal Shem Tov is returned home (interestingly, it is on this seventh day that the Israelites crossed the Reed Sea). His scribe (or daughter depending on the version of the story) who was traveling with him could only remember the aleph- bet. In Hebrew the aleph- bet represent a form of counting since numbers are represented by letters. The letters inspired the Baal Shev Tov,
“As soon as R. Israel Baal Shem Tov heard that R. Hersh still remembered the alphabet, he told him, "Good, say the letters for me!" R. Hersh began to recite, "Alef, beis, gimel, daled, hei...." And the Baal Shem Tov repeated every word with great fire. R. Israel Baal Shem Tov said, "Ribono shel Olam, Master of the world: Do You need the prayers of a simple person who is called Israel? If so, I am reciting the letters before You, and You, merciful Father in heaven, braid them Yourself into a wreathe of prayers!" (Shulman, Y.D, 2001)
And with this the Baal Shem Tov and his scribe were saved. Clearly a small act with great intentions can shift the world, which is why this story is told on the last (8th) day of Passover following afternoon prayers during the Baal Shem Tov’s feast. This is the end of the first week of the counting of the Omer, and hence marks the end of the first cycle of sevens.
It is through counting that the Baal Shem is saved. It is through counting that we are returned to our union with G-d and holiness. It is through the simple act of counting that we find our way when we are lost. It is through the simple act of counting the Omer that we find Refuah and T’shuva.
Passover
Passover has come and gone...and I was so busy cleaning and cleaning and cooking and cleaning and entertaining and cleaning (get the theme) that I did not have time to post. By the time it occurred to me that I could have cleaned and cooked in the wedding dress (with an apron of course) the holiday was over.
Except that it is not really over.
We start with emptying and cleaning and "turning" the kitchen into a kosher for Pesach space. All this...several hours of all this...has to happen before the Pesach food comes in. So I empty cupboards and throw out anything with "chumetz" in it, replace the regular dishes and utensils with those I use for Pesach.
This takes hours and has turned into a meditation. As the remnants of chumetz are swept from my kitchen, the remnants of last years hurts and anger and regrets and worries are swept from my heart. I scrub the corners of the counter and unearth my own hidden fears. The story of walking out of Egypt, "mitzraim" runs through my head and makes me think about the ways that I have moved from a narrow place to a wide place in the past year. And the ways that I still need to move and grow and change.
It must have been very difficult to pack up and leave on a moments notice, to walk from the security of narrowness into the unknown open desert. To leave fears and pains and constriction for freedom and opportunity. To examine old confining patterns and old behaviors, and to stretch into a new role and way of being. Would I have the courage to walk into the sea that is splitting open before me? Would I yearn for the prison that I know, afraid of the freedom that I have never experienced?
Maybe this is why Pesach starts with so much work, and then seems to end without closure. Of course it does not end that way, it leads into counting the "Omer" seven weeks that lead us to Sinai and Torah. It takes at least that long to burn off our old habits in the searing heat of the desert and open to another way to live. And this year... I have many reasons to count.
To be continued.
Except that it is not really over.
We start with emptying and cleaning and "turning" the kitchen into a kosher for Pesach space. All this...several hours of all this...has to happen before the Pesach food comes in. So I empty cupboards and throw out anything with "chumetz" in it, replace the regular dishes and utensils with those I use for Pesach.
This takes hours and has turned into a meditation. As the remnants of chumetz are swept from my kitchen, the remnants of last years hurts and anger and regrets and worries are swept from my heart. I scrub the corners of the counter and unearth my own hidden fears. The story of walking out of Egypt, "mitzraim" runs through my head and makes me think about the ways that I have moved from a narrow place to a wide place in the past year. And the ways that I still need to move and grow and change.
It must have been very difficult to pack up and leave on a moments notice, to walk from the security of narrowness into the unknown open desert. To leave fears and pains and constriction for freedom and opportunity. To examine old confining patterns and old behaviors, and to stretch into a new role and way of being. Would I have the courage to walk into the sea that is splitting open before me? Would I yearn for the prison that I know, afraid of the freedom that I have never experienced?
Maybe this is why Pesach starts with so much work, and then seems to end without closure. Of course it does not end that way, it leads into counting the "Omer" seven weeks that lead us to Sinai and Torah. It takes at least that long to burn off our old habits in the searing heat of the desert and open to another way to live. And this year... I have many reasons to count.
To be continued.
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