The Shofar's Call

Elul 29

Listening to the sounding of the shofar is one of most memorable aspects of the High Holy Days.  We will hear three distinct notes on Rosh HaShanah morning:  tekiah, shevarim,  and teruah.  About these notes, Rabbi Yeshayah HaLevi Hurwitz (from the late 16^th century) has written:

Each group of sounds begins with a tekiah, a whole note, proceeds to shevarim, a “broken” note divided into three parts, or even to a teruah, an entirely fragmented sound. But each broken note is followed by a whole note, another tekiah. This is the message of Rosh HaShanah: “I started off whole, I became broken, even splintered into fragments, but I shall become whole again! I shall become whole again!”

It is true that we may enter this new year feeling broken in some way.  Perhaps our bodies have betrayed us.  Perhaps our spirits are low.  Perhaps we are consumed with worry over those we love.  Or, looking beyond ourselves to the world around us, we see injustice, violence and inequality at every turn.   We question whether real change, for ourselves or our world, is possible.  And if we are not careful, it is easy to fall from questioning to despair … or even worse … apathy.

But then we hear the shofar blasts and are reminded that this time of year is ultimately a time of possibility and hope.  Our tradition teaches that brokenness is not a permanent condition,

that healing is possible,

and that the way things are now are not the way things will or always have to be. 

We remember that we do have power to effect positive changes that can impact our lives and our communities.  And we realize that each new year … each new day … each new moment is our gift, our opportunity, to begin again.  

May each beginning bring us blessings for wholeness, for health and for peace.

Shana tova!

Hineni - I am Here

Elul 28

Hineni – I am here

“Hineni,” “I am here,” says Adam when God asks where he is in the Garden of Eden.  “Hineni,” “I am here,” says Abraham when God asks him to take Isaac to the mountaintop.

“Hineni,” “I am here,” we say to our children in the dark when they are frightened.

“Hineni,” “I am here,” we say to one we love in our darkest moments of isolation and loneliness.

“Hineni,” “I am here,” we must say to ourselves when doubt and fear engulf us.

In the coming Days of Awe, we need not feel alone.  We will come together as a community to pray, to do tzedakah, to return in teshuvah, to avert the fear and isolation that we face throughout our lives and throughout our years.

I have always loved the concept of the Hineni prayer – words recited by the rabbi, cantor or “shaliach tzibur” – the one leading prayer on the High Holidays – appealing for humility and ability to lead the community in the overwhelming task of teshuvah during the Days of Awe.  The traditional words begin “I am here - me, of little merit…” The leader of prayer asks that the community not be judged on his or her account, merely that we be held accountable for the fact that we are present, we are here. Only in humility can we begin this journey.  Just showing up is enough. Each of us can say “Hineni,” “I am here.”  Each of us must be present.

Hineni – I am here.

p.s.  - 
you might want to join us in checking out http://www.doyou10q.com/   This is an innovative and amazing way to spend the ten days of the approaching High Holy Days reflecting and thinking. Take a look and see what you think.  

May the coming year be filled with blessings, awe and love.  And perhaps most of all, with Shalom.

Rabbi Jim Bennett

Personal & Community Selichot

Last night was the service of Selichot. Literally meaning apologies, selichot continues the ramp-up toward Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur as the month of Elul draws to a close. We publicly recite prayers that bring the work of Elul to the forefront and to the responsibility and care of the entire community.   

We've looked inward at ourselves, who we are and what our deeds and actions mean.  Last night, we joined ourselves others.  Being a member if a community means taking  responsibility for our own actions and misgivings as well as those of our neighbors. The language of our prayers change from the first person, "me" or "I," to "ours" and "we."  While some of the things that we've done individually that we ask forgiveness for are ours alone.  For example, not treating those around me with the utmost respect at all times is an area of personal growth; however, my actions has influenced many and my traits, good and bad, affect others' attitudes.  When I can tighten someone's day, they might treat someone else differently because of that. The reciprocal is also true, negatively loves company. 

Today, I ask not just myself, but those close to me to help make me aware when I stray from the path of goodness. I expect my friends and family to be fair yet vigilant with their support in showing me when I stray from the path.  If they don't expect the same from themselves, that's okay - I am only able to set expectations on meaningful personal change from myself.

The path of goodness and the path of happiness are often separate from each other and often at odds with each other. 


What are your challenges with joining your journey with the journey of others in the community?

What gratification can you find by sharing your journey with others?  

How does this work of introspection bridge the personal work of teshuvah and the community aspect of working together for a common good?

Cantor Seth Warner 

The Book of Life

Elul 26

One of the most profound images of the High Holy Days that I carry with me from my childhood is God in the heavens,

pen in hand,

poised over an open ledger,

recording the deeds of every person on earth,

determining if our deeds are worthy enough so that our names might be written down in the Book of Life for the coming year.

As a child, I believed in this God, and I believed in my own power to alter my actions so that God would look favorably upon me.  Today, I do not believe that God or the universe work in this way.  I do not believe in a God who rewards or punishes or even judges.  But I do still believe in a Book of Life.  Or, to be more accurate, I believe in LOTS of Books of Life.  I believe that we each author our own, and that our deeds – the righteous and the wicked, the kind and the cruel – are recorded there.  I believe that each action leaves its imprint on the universe.  And while I do not believe we can control every plot twist in the narrative of our lives, I do believe that we are responsible for “writing” our own reactions to the world as it is constantly unfolding before us. 

In her autobiography, It’s Always Something, Gilda Radner wrote:

I wanted a perfect ending, so I sat down to write the book with the ending in place before there even was an ending.  Now I’ve learned the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end.  Like my life, this book has ambiguity.  Like my life, this book is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next.

Our preparations for the High Holy Days, and the rituals involved in the observance of Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur, are designed to help us understand that none of us knows the ending to our own stories.  All we can do is meet our lives moment to moment, and do our best to make the most out of each moment we are given.  Can we meet this day with more compassion and less critique?  More generosity and less suspicion?  More warmth and less fear?

What will you record in your Book of Life this day?

Menuchat HaNefesh - Attaining Tranquility/Restful Spirit

Elul 25

  

“Rise above events that are inconsequential — both bad and good — for they are not worth

disturbing the tranquility of your spirit.” (Rabbi Menachem Mendel Lefin of Satanov, Cheshbon ha-Nefesh).

Anger, frustration, irritation, annoyance, hostility…..Life provides so many reasons to become off-balance.  Rabbi Menachem Mendel’s words encourage us to strive not to let those things that matter less make such a difference to us.  In every moment, we might ask ourselves “Does this matter?” “Is this important?” “Will the outcome really make a difference?”

When the answer is “yes,” then this event is of consequence and we are well-served to allow this challenge to disturb our complacency. Justice demands that we act to right the wrong, Compassion calls us to care for the one in pain, the Still, Small Voice calls us to heal what is broken. Responding will bring about the Menuchat HaNefesh, the restful spirit we each seek within ourselves.

And when the answer is “no,” we face a moment of profound choice.  Confronting matters that are inconsequential may well disturb the Menuchat HaNefesh, the peacefulness of our spirits and leave us the broken ones in need of justice, compassion and tikkun.

Each week, Shabbat arrives with a renewed opportunity to rededicate ourselves to this spirit of tranquility.  As the New Year approaches, may we find the Menuchat HaNefesh we seek and may our spirits be peaceful.  Shabbat Shalom.  

Rabbi Jim Bennett

What's my essence?

Are these days of Elul, this countdown to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, we look inward and we ask ourselves how we can return to that true essence of the self.  What is that true essence?  What does that mean?  Is it innocence, like a baby?  Is it purity, as in being cleansed?  Innocence and purity seem a little misplaced here.  For me, I like the notion that true essence is the return (teshuvah) to the moment, to that exact place in time and space just before the yetzer tov - the good inclination gives way to the to the yetzer ha-ra -the bad inclination.

I see it frequently when watching my own children.  When we're playing together, one will look at the other and then at me and then I see it - it see it in their eyes, the inclination to do something playfully destructive to the other.  The look is usually exactly the same and totally unique and recognizable.

What I want to try to catpture within myself is that moment - that moment when my choices no longer represent my positive influence, but changes to the negative.

For us adults in everyday circumstances, I experience that exact moment as being less definitive as my children, but it is not invisible.  For sure, there is a process by which our brains process our decisions, our thoughts and our future actions - mostly at the subconscious level where we are virtually unaware of them.

Where I want to focus is right before that change happens.  Perhaps there is a way to increase my own awareness of the circumstances when my mind contemplates wavering from that yetzer tov.  I don't expect to be perfect - and neither should you - but I do expect more of myself - to not stray down the same paths, not follow old, familiar ruts in my thinking and my actions.

What are your old, familiar paths?

Can you feel your yetzer tov (good inclination) give way to your yetzer ha-ra (bad inclination)?

What is going on with you at that exact moment just before one gives way to the other?

Cantor Seth Warner

On Forgiving Others

Elul 23

Every now and then someone will speak with me about the difficulty of granting forgiveness.  Is it always right to forgive someone for hurting us?  For making us feel scared or unworthy?  For breaking our trust?  Every situation is unique, of course.  As we approach these holy days we have the obligation to seek forgiveness from others.  We also have the responsibility to grant forgiveness when we can.  In thinking about the notion of forgiveness, I have always found the words of Rabbi Lawrence Kushner to be helpful.  He writes:

To be forgiven one must first learn how to forgive.  Many of us waste years waiting to be forgiven.  But since we have never offered forgiveness ourselves, we do not know how to recognize when it is extended to us.  To “forgive” means not only to excuse someone for having committed an offense, but also to renounce the anger and claims of resentment.  Forgiving someone therefore means you are willing to endure the risk that he (or she) will hurt you in exactly the same way again, but that you trust him (or her) not to.

As Rabbi Kushner explains, forgiveness comes with an inherent risk.  There is always a chance that the other person will hurt you again.  But if there is enough love AND enough trust, the risk is worth taking.

From whom are you seeking forgiveness this year?

To whom will you grant it?