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Friday, August 29, 2014

Tashlich

by Debra Solomon Baker

Last year, maybe I apologized for not having enough patience with my daughter, Sarah, when she’s slow to get dressed in the morning, for threatening to leave her home without a ride.  Maybe I apologized for complaining to my husband, Lorne, when he buys a super-sized bag of those dried mangoes from Costco that nobody ever eats, or to my son, Max, for the times when I was so consumed with grading papers that I didn’t listen when he spoke about the trades his beloved Redbirds had just made.  Maybe I apologized to the dog for not carving enough time to walk him, especially in wintertime.

I don’t remember the details of what we said.

But, every year, the four of us, with the mutt, head to Oak Knoll Park armed with bread to toss into the water.  I suppose that there is a “right” day to do Tashlich, this ritual casting away of our sins.   There are probably correct prayers to say and a correct day to assemble and even a correct type of body of water.  The Baker family just gathers whenever we can grab some time between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.  We head to Oak Knoll because that’s where we’ve always gone and we like to visit the ducks and the spot where we scattered the ashes of our dog, Desmond, years ago.  One by one, we name our specific wrongdoings, calling out our apologies and, with each one, we rip off a piece of bread, tossing it away.  Sometimes we erupt into silliness and even some giggling, as we remember our flawed moments.  Sometimes I cry. Usually we end up hugging and even saying thank you.

This unique brand of Tashlich is probably our best tradition as a family.  I always walk away feeling cleansed and grateful.    

Sitting here on a rainy Shabbat morning in August, a few weeks before the Jewish New Year, I am thinking about this ritual, playing a little What If game.

What if during Tashlich, we not only uttered apologies to each other, but to ourselves? What if we named specific moments where we treated ourselves unkindly, unfairly, unhealthily?  What if, in doing so, we urged ourselves to be less harsh in our self-criticism, to be gentler with our bodies, to push aside work without guilt, to meet friends for lunch, even to do yoga?

And what if, while standing out there by the water, we added our own environmental shortcomings to our list, apologizing to our planet?  What if we then made a silent pledge to be more aware, to plant flowers, to wash and recycle peanut butter jars even though it’s a nuisance to clean them? 

And what if we didn’t wait for Rosh Hashanah?  What if this year, part of our Shabbat ritual became an accounting of ways that we had fallen short?  How about candles, blessings, wine, challah, celebrations, apologies?  How might setting this intention help to nurture our families, to make us closer? 

And, finally, what if we organized Tashlich-esque gatherings in our schools and in our neighborhoods?  Imagine people of all races meeting in Ferguson not just for protest but with loaves and loaves of bread in our hands.  Imagine us standing there together, calling out apologies for our pathetic stereotypes, for our hurtful comments, for whatever each of us has done to contribute to a community where children and teenagers are not always safe.

Yes, I sit here on this Shabbat morning thinking about a world where we all arm ourselves with bread rather than with guns, where we kick blame in the shins, where we stand up and cheer for Team Apology to win the game.  I wish each of us a new year brimming with stories that uplift and with rituals that add meaning to our lives.  And may our relationships--with ourselves, with our loved ones, and with strangers--be mended through the quiet power of forgiveness.



Debra Solomon Baker has taught eighth grade Literacy at Wydown Middle School for nearly two decades and has been a member of Congregation Shaare Emeth for nine years. She has had writing published in several places, including the anthology, Winter Harvest: Jewish Writing in Saint Louis.  Most recently, Reform Judaism magazine included an essay that she wrote about her family’s volunteer commitment to Room at the Inn.  Debra blogs at http://debrasolomonbaker.wordpress.com/

Thursday, August 28, 2014

Returning after returning after returning - a meditation for the 2nd day of Elul 5774



Time it was 
And what a time it was, it was 
A time of innocence 
A time of confidences

Long ago it must be 
I have a photograph 
Preserve your memories 
They're all that's left you.

This summer, I returned.  I returned to Prague, I walked the ancient ghettos streets where once my people dwelled.  I wandered through the chaos of the stones of ancient cemeteries, I sat in synagogues in Krakow where my ancestors prayed, I was silenced by the voices in my head as I walked through Auschwitz and Birkenau, remembering, dwarfed by the trees in the cemetery that is all that remains of my people in the ghetto of Warsaw.

This summer, I returned.  I returned home once again to Yerushalayim, City of Peace, a place of comfort and inspiration, where anger and vengeance now prevailed, where rockets flew overhead, where missiles returned in retaliation.

This summer, I returned.  An airport nearly paralyzed, flights cancelled, and then my feet touched down once again at home.   A home here in a town where I returned, it seemed to a time long ago, where racial tensions raged and anger flared, and fear swelled and hope diminished. I returned, to return, to return and then to return.

Time it was....and what a time it was, it was....a time of innocence....a time of confidences....to return again and again and again.

It is Elul....a time for returning. A time for reflection. A time for resolution. A time for action.  A time of hope.

Returning is never easy.  Things are never the same, we are never the same, and yet we return, again and again and again.  

As this month of Elul begins, we return.  We reflect.  We pray.  We hope.  We return. And then, we do it all again.  We read the words again, we pray the prayers again, we sing the songs again, we hope the hopes, dream the dreams, we return, again and again and again.

Maybe this time it will matter, this time it will change, this time we will change, this time we will make a difference....maybe this will be the year, the moment, when peace will prevail, when violence will stop, when we return to our innocence, to our confidence, to our hope, to our shalom.

Rabbi Jim Bennett
2 Elul 5774


















Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Welcome

Welcome back to Shaare Emeth's Elul blog.  Last night at sundown we began the Hebrew month of Elul, which traditionally is a time to reflect on the year that has past and prepare for the upcoming High Holy Days. Traditional spiritual practices during the month of Elul include:

- hearing the shofar blown 
- reading Psalm 27
- visiting the graves of loved ones who have passed
- spending at least a small amount of time in silence each day
- granting and asking for forgiveness
- the practice of Cheshbon HaNefesh - making an honest and thoughtful accounting of our actions and intentions over this past year.  In doing this, we hope to observe the places where we may feel stuck, and try to find motivation for self-transformation.  Some people take this process quite literally, keeping a journal to record the insights they uncover during this period of time.  Others simply find time to reflect more internally.

I encourage you to commit to one spiritual practice during the month of Elul and see how that practice can deepen your awareness.  Your practice might simply be reading this blog each day.

This Elul, along with thoughts and ideas from Shaare Emeth's clergy, we have invited 12 members of the congregation to share their thoughts and ideas about this time of preparation as well.

The blog is meant to be interactive, so please feel free to ask questions and add positive comments and reflections of your own.

As we begin this month of spiritual reflection and preparation, may our community be blessed with moments of honesty, forgiveness and peace.

L'shalom,
Rabbi Andrea

Thursday, August 21, 2014

The 2014 / 5774 Return of "Return"


Follow our daily blog for the Hebrew month of Elul (August 27-September 24, 2014) as our clergy--and new this year, some of our members--share their insights on preparing our souls for the High Holidays.

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Tuesday, September 3, 2013

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 16th 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!





Monday, September 2, 2013

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

Sunday, September 1, 2013

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