For Me, the HHD Used to be a Time for a Personal Audit

by Laura K. Silver

For me, the High Holy Days used to be a time for a personal audit. I would sit in services and spend my day considering what I could do differently and better in the year ahead. A few years ago during services, I felt frustrated with myself that I couldn’t follow along with the Hebrew. I decided that by the next year, things would be different. Within a month, I enrolled in an adult Hebrew class. The following year, I followed right along in my prayer book. Last year, with the help of that class, I became a Bat Mitzvah.

I had always thought of the High Holy Days as the beginning of the reflective period, but recently I learned that the High Holy Days end an evaluation process that begins throughout the month of Elul. We are actually told to blow the shofar every day during the month of Elul to “awaken” us prior to Rosh Hashanah. Historically the shofar has been a call to assembly and a call to action. While chances are, I’m not going to be hearing a true ram’s horn daily, the idea of listening and waking up this month seems like a good one.

The news that surrounds me seems uglier by the day and uglier than it has been in a long time. Whether I am watching threats to the very existence of Israel, the torture of the Yazidis in Iraq, or hearing about a plane shot down in the Ukraine, the international news is horrifying. Locally, watching events unfold in Ferguson and throughout St. Louis, it’s not any better.

This year, I am using the month of Elul as a time to really listen. I want these days to be an opportunity to consider my personal call to action in the upcoming year. The beauty of the month of Elul, for me, is that I don’t need to formulate any plans or come to any conclusions just yet. For now, I just need to wake up and listen.

Laura K. Silver has been a member of Shaare Emeth since childhood. She is a recent participant in the Adult Hebrew and B’nai Mitzvah program at Shaare Emeth. Laura is married to Michael Silver, and they have eleven year old twins. Her blogs are regularly featured online in both the St. Louis Jewish Light and St. Louis Magazine.

Shabbat - 11 Elul 5774
Rabbi Jim Bennett

Shabbat always comes just in time, bringing a moment in time when we need it most, if only we will use it.nThis year, Elul seems to have come just in time, bringing a month during which we may, if we take advantage of the opportunity, catch our breath and prepare for the new year.

In our frantic pace, we pause.
In the race to the finish line, we slow and reflect.
Popular culture reminds us of this all the time:

"Stop and smell the roses."
"I couldn't see the forest for all the trees."
"Be like the tortoise, not the hare."

We know that we should breath, look around, pause to be grateful, appreciate what we have....and yet we rush from one thing to the next, For today's Elul meditation, a meditation for this Shabbat in Elul, I offer the following:

Time (a poem / prayer by Michael Quoist)

I went out, Lord. Men were coming and going, walking and running.

Everything was rushing; cars, trucks, the street, the whole town.

Men were rushing not to waste time.

To catch up with time, to gain time.

Good bye, Sir, excuse me, I haven't time.

I'll come back, I can't wait, I haven't time.

I must end this letter - I haven't time.

I'd love to help you, but I haven't time.

I can't accept, having no time.

I can't think, I can't read, I'm swamped, I haven't time.

I'd like to pray, but I haven't time.

You understand, Lord, they simply haven't the time.

The child is playing, he hasn't time right now..later on...

The schoolboy has his homework to do, he hasn't time..later on...

The student had his courses, and so much work...later on...

The young man is at his sports, he hasn't time...later on...

The young married man has his new house; he has to fix it up, he hasn't time...later on..

The grandparents have their grandchildren, they haven't time... later on...

They are dying, they have no...

Too late!...They have no more time!

And so all men run after time, Lord.

They pass through life running - hurried, jostled, overburdened, frantic,

and they never get there. They haven't time.

In spite of all their efforts they're still short of time.

Of a great deal of time.

Lord, you must have made a mistake in your calculations.

There is a big mistake somewhere. The hours are too short, the days are too short.

Our lives are too short.

You who are beyond time, Lord, you smile to see us fighting it.

And you know what you are doing.

You make no mistakes in your distribution of time to men.

You give each one time to do what you want him to do.

But we must not lose time

waste time,

kill time,

For time is a gift that you give us,

But a perishable gift,

A gift that does not keep.

Lord, I have time,

I have plenty of time,

All the time that you give me,

The years of my life, the days of my years, the hours of my days.

They are all mine.

Mine to fill, quietly, calmly,

But to fill completely, up to the brim.

The Sounds of Silence

by Miranda Siler

Entering the year 2014, I had one New Year’s resolution: to go to more Shabbat services. Now I know that many people from home and Shaare Emeth will hear that and think, “What? You’re at Shabbat services almost every Friday! What could you possibly mean by more?” While this was certainly the case at home, it was not during my first semester of college. I had plenty of excuses for not going; I was tired, it was too cold and too far to walk, etc. But deep down I knew the real reason why I didn’t want to go to Shabbat services, I was afraid of going alone.

Going into freshman year, everyone is hungry to make friends, and you quickly latch on to certain people. You eat at the dining hall together, study together, go on excursions together. It’s amazing how quickly you make your best friends, turning first semester into a simultaneously strange and awesome time. Out of the people that I became close with right away, some, but not many, were Jewish, and even fewer were the type to go to services. Maybe Shabbat dinner afterwards, but not services. I was not used to going to services alone. Even though I am often the only person my age at synagogue, I’m still with my family. And even if I were to go to services alone, I’ve been a part of the Shaare Emeth community for so long, that I still feel as if I’m among people I know. I have a Shabbat posse so to speak. I was afraid of not having that posse going into services, of not having a group to sit with at dinner, and therefore spent my first semester of college barely going at all.

A little more about my first semester of college. It was a ton of fun and I made a lot of amazing friends, but it was also loud. Not exactly in a volume-turned-all-the-way-up sense (although it could be at times), but more in a metaphorical sense. There was always something to do, a new way to participate, a new someone to connect with. I’m the type of person who likes staying busy, so I LOVED this aspect of college. I loved, and still do love, how alive campus is, how on a nice day you will see everyone chilling outside. There is a wonderful sense of community. But near the end of the semester, I think I realized that I had been missing something: me time. I needed a little bit of silence to help me fully enjoy all the noise of my college life and not burn out.

At home, I enjoyed silence during some very specific times: in the 30 or so minutes that I had between school and dance class, and at night after everyone went to sleep. At college I didn’t have these. When I came home from class I always had a floormate that I was excited to talk to and I had a roommate who stayed up even later than I did. First semester, I was so busy building friendships that I didn’t make any time purely for myself.

Second semester, I changed that. I gave myself some silence. Once again, not in a physical sense, but a spiritual one. To me, silence was going to a café that was two subway stops away from campus. Silence was hiding under my blanket and watching American Horror Story. Before special events, silence was sitting on the floor, listening to Beyoncé and straightening my hair. And most importantly, silence was going to Shabbat services. I no longer viewed them as something that I had to do by myself, but something that I had the pleasure of doing by myself. Even as I become more involved with Hillel, and closer to the people in it, I still treat services as a time for me. They are a break from the din of college life, and I can recharge in that silence. And as for my Hillel friends? I’ll catch up with them at dinner.

As the new Jewish year approaches, I have a challenge for everyone reading this blog. Go to a Friday night Shabbat service alone. Even if you drive with family, try sitting a few rows apart. Take the time for yourself. See what happens when you immerse yourself in the sounds of silence.

Miranda Siler is now entering her sophomore year at Tufts University, just outside the great city of Boston. A member since she was four, she has been a part of the Shaare Emeth community in many ways including camper, madricha, avid SETYG member, counselor, religious school teacher, and regular service attendee. In college, she serves on her Hillel Board as Freshman Programming Co-Chair. Feel free to email her at miranda.siler@tufts.edu if you want to send her care packages during the school year--she would be eternally grateful--or for other reasons.

Mindful of the Ordinary

A few days ago, Josh Wallach introduced the readers of this blog to the concept of hitlamdut - a learning stance that asks us to be open to learning about ourselves from all of our experiences.  When we approach each moment of our day with an attitude of curiosity and openness, instead of judgment and fear, we are practicing hitlamdut.  This kind of learning stance is incredibly helpful during the month of Elul, when we are asked to be more attuned to the patterns and habits of our daily lives.

Mary Oliver expresses the idea of hitlamdut in her poem, "Mindful."

Every day
I see or I hear
something
that more or less

kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle

in the haystack
of light.
It is what I was born for -
to look, to listen,

to lose myself
inside this soft world -
to instruct myself
over and over

in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant -
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.
Oh good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help

but grow wise
with such teachings
as these -
the untrimmable light

of the world,
the ocean's shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?

The ordinary, the common, the very drab, as Oliver explains, are invitations not only to be mindful, but also to be grateful.  Invitations to grow in wisdom.  As we step out into the world on this 9th day of Elul, let us be attuned to the lessons the world presents to us, and the endless opportunities we have to learn about who we are, and about who we can become.

L'shalom,
Rabbi Andrea

Dual Citizenship

I use the word balance a lot.  I like that its meaning can take on almost any shape depending on the conversation.  

Each year, around this time, Elul and winding down of summer, I have two speeds - slow, reflective and breakneck fast.  On one hand, I'm reminded of Elul and the introspection that this time of year requires. On the other, the High Holy Day preparation, task lists and to-dos seem to grow exponentially.  

So I'm supposed to be reflective and frantic at the same time?  

Even if I wasn't a cantor, there's school starting, sports teams, music lessons, homework, friendships, the list goes on - fill in yours here.  

More than any other time of year, I feel the distance is greater between being  in-balance and out-of-balance.   I don't know whether to relax or rebound.  

As I put these feelings into words, I am reminded of my need to search for one thing.  It doesn't matter what the one thing is, but I find it hard to look for more than one thing - physical or metaphysical - at a time. This time of year, I feel caught between focusing inwardly for Elul and the myriad of needs of my work and my family. 

So this year I'm trying something new. Instead of feeling caught between two places, I'm attempting to swing with the pendulum - to feel reflective and relaxed during some parts of the day while allowing myself to feel frantic and busy at other parts.  It's an utterly new place for me.  It's taken a lot of getting used to, and I'm by no means an expert at it - but I'm feeling myself able to appreciate and understand the imbalance more by reveling in its outer boundaries rather than trying to negotiate the midpoint. 

Cantor Seth Warner

8 Elul 5774

This Time of Year is Always a Special One

by Josh Wallach

For me, this time of year is always a special one. There are memories of many years at Shaare Emeth, attending High Holy Day services with loved ones, some now departed and dearly missed, and there are memories being made here with my own growing family, whether it be attending an event directed towards my children, Shabbat services, or teaching them that Shaare Emeth can be a second home to them. I am thankful for the ability to be so actively engaged and participate not only in lay leadership opportunities, but to be given so many opportunities to choose from.

Earlier this year I was invited to be a participant in Shaare Emeth's inaugural Tikkun Middot class, and therefore an ambassador for what I've discovered is a powerful "thing". Tikkun Middot is a combination of Mussar (a traditional form of ethical study and practice) and Mindfulness practices. Initially, Rabbi Goldstein introduced our class to the broad concept of Hitlamdut, or study of self. By engaging ourselves in this study of self, we give ourselves the ability to deeply internalize what we are learning.

At our first meeting, we were asked to focus on one specific daily activity that we could then look at and notice how we do this activity, how it affects us, and what we can learn from it. I chose to look at driving. One of the aspects of driving I focused on was how I behaved when seeing the driver of a nearby vehicle texting or paying more attention to their phone than the 4000 lb machine they were piloting. I found that my old habit of honking at such drivers, motioning for them to put their phones down, or just internally uttering dissatisfaction did absolutely no good, for anyone. It simply raised my stress level, took my focus off of the road (not to mention the three little ones in car seats), and, for a minute, made me feel like I had to control the actions of other drivers (impossible to do). After studying this for several weeks, I quickly learned that turning my attention to steering my ship away from unsafe drivers was a more appropriate solution, one that did not necessitate 100% control in a situation that I couldn't control. All of the sudden, my horn was being used less, my stress level was down, and my focus was 100% where it needed to be. While this is only one example, it illustrates that even the most mundane and repetitive activity can be considered for Hitlamdut practice, and that within this activity there is room for learning.

During the month of Elul, I am grateful to be part of a congregation that actively highlights our ability to reflect on our lives and learn. For me, it is not enough to simply say I can be a better person by "doing" this. Tikkun Middot practice allows us to ask deeper questions, like why are we doing it this way, what happens if we do it this way instead, how are others affected if I continue doing something a certain way, and why should we do it this way? There are learning opportunities around every corner if the desire to learn exists.

Since our initial class, each successive session has become more specific in its nature, honing in on a particular character trait, for example "Patience". Over the next year, our entire congregation will be introduced to this practice thanks to a grant awarded to Shaare Emeth through the continued diligent work of Rabbi Goldstein. It is my hope as a participant, as a representative of our board of directors, and as a fellow congregant, that you too can say I am a better person because I am involved at Shaare Emeth.

Shanah Tova.

Josh Wallach has been a member of Shaare Emeth since his days attending the Shirlee Green Preschool. He is married to Stacey and they have three children, Gabriel 6, Vivian 3, and Benjamin 2. Josh currently serves as an officer on the Shaare Emeth Board of Trustees.

"Return Again, Return Again"

by Sharon Weissman

“Return again, return again, return to the home of your soul.”

These words, from the song “Return Again” by Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, often flow through my mind and soul.

The song continues:

“Return to who you are,

return to what you are,

return to where you are born

and reborn again.”

I learned about this song from a dear friend who teaches imagery and who has helped me open my heart to make these words real.

Thinking about Elul, I envision myself taking the time to spiritually prepare for the Days of Awe. For a whole month prior to Rosh Hashanah I have the choice to concentrate on polishing my soul!

Who am I? I aim to be the best Sharon I can be by nourishing my inner self.

What am I? As a spark of the Divine I strive to share my internal light with everyone I meet.

Where am I born and reborn again? At Shaare Emeth, my congregation,

my community, because it is my spiritual home. This can occur at Shabbat worship, working with others to create a new model for “wholeness and hope” within Temple, volunteering with Room at the Inn, making shiva visits, expanding my knowledge of Judaism, singing my heart out with the choir at monthly Shaare Shabbat morning services.

I must be willing to give of myself, it will not just happen because I am in a certain place. This awareness of my soul can, of course, also occur at home, with family and friends, in nature, during my chaplaincy visits and it does. I am the one who has to pay attention to every moment which can lead me to true connections.

These images will help me keep my Elul pledge to be active in my teshuvah, my turning:

I see myself listening to the Shofar blast which has the potential to awaken me each morning.

I hear myself reciting Psalm 27 to help me express my gratitude and hope.

I visualize myself sitting in silence, letting thoughts fly and then settling on my shoulders to guide me on the right path.

I notice myself reviewing the past year, beginning to forgive myself and asking for forgiveness from family and friends I have hurt unintentionally.

Neshama Carlebach, daughter of Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach, wrote:

In Elul, G!d comes to us. If we listen closely, we will hear G!d’s voice:

‘I know how hard this world can be. I know how you long for meaning

and sometimes make mistakes. But now, I just want to be close to you.’

I pray that my heart and soul will remain open to experience this closeness however I perceive it. May I truly be present during Elul, the Days of Awe and know that I am always able to “return again.”

Sharon Weissman joined Shaare Emeth when she moved here almost 30 years ago. The Caring Committee has been her focus of involvement for many years. Additionally, as a member of the Shiva Committee, she visits congregants who have had a death in their family and also leads Shiva Minyanim when called upon. Her professional work has included oncology social work and hospice chaplaincy. She works for JF&CS in the Community Chaplaincy program where she provides spiritual care to Jews living in assisted living or skilled nursing facilities. She is married to Alan and has two sons, one daughter-in-love, and a grandson who is the love of her life. She enjoys traveling to visit family and friends around the country.