My Personal Al Cheyt

I want to add my voice to the multitude with a forgiveness of myself, as a vehicle for both forgiving others and setting a right path for the coming year.

Forgive me for:
Letting myself be guided by the fear of what might not be, instead of the possibility of what could;
Not realizing that I have enough and I am enough;
Holding on to material things and letting them substitute for the experiences and meaning I associate with them;
Not releasing tension;
Being beholden to my ego;
Not reaching out to others often enough;
Allowing myself to get caught up in the judgements of others;
Not recognizing the spirit of Gd in others;
Wishing I was somewhere other than where I am;
Not letting go and trusting;
Splitting myself from the reality of the universe;
Not seeing that I am one with the earth;
Being lazy, mentally, emotionally, and physically;
Not taking care of my body, my heart, and my soul;
Distracting myself from the task at hand;
Not being part of the solution;

For all these shortcomings, may the Force that makes forgiveness possible forgive me, pardon me, and make at-one-ment possible.

New Beginnings

Part of what has been heavy on my mind these last few weeks has been a longing for community, a sense that wholeness would come again by connecting with a group of folks with whom I could share celebrations and jewish practice, as well as connect with on a personal level.

The idea had been gestating in my heart for some time and in my mind for some time more. With the help of a few amazing folks, Dor Hadash was launched last week. We had an amazing Shabbat Potluck (a bit light on the Kabbalat, since there weren't any siddurim!) with 25 amazing folks. It felt like both an act of Teshuvah and Tikkun - turning back on a missed deed and healing a little corner of the world. The joy in the room was palpable. Thanks to all involved.

Also, I know I'm behind on a post or two - forgive me. I'll hopefully write more this coming week.

Week Wrap-up

Oy, what a week it's been! This run-up to Rosh Hashana has been exhausting but exhilarating. To mention a couple of things briefly: Amberly & I are taking part in an interfaith discussion group, which started last Monday, and I started a course of tui na treatment with Terry (my tai chi instructor) to see about my back pain and supposed hip injury (another story for another time). Both positive, good things and part of my teshuvah, to be sure. But put that together with the ongoing class with Rabbi Lew, the S'lichot service at Rabbi Lerner's, and today's wonderful "Tools for Torah" class with Garry Koenigsberg, and you can see why I'm behind on posting relevant stuff to this blog!

I'll start in no particular order with last night's S'lichot service. Hamish is my new yiddish word for the season, meaning cozy or homey, for you who like me had Zaides & Bubies that kept the language to themselves. That describes all services at the Rabbi's house, which was an especially nice way to transition into the high holy day mood and melodies. It also served to underline my teshuvah for the season. The Rabbi drashed a little bit on the subject: in addition to the traditional teshuvah for missing the mark between humans and God and between human and each other, an overlooked but very important component is repairing the ways in which you have missed the mark with yourself.

This self-reflective, psychological aspect of teshuvah is of course much of what Rabbi Lew talks about in the meditation class. It sounds like much of what he has to say on the subject can be found in his book,
but there are bits that are worth highlighting, if just so I can get them clear in my head. He emphasizes the importance of Elul in the process of atonement (at-one-ment), and that's what we have dealt with the most. This week, he connected meditation with the week's parsha, which he finds particularly meaningful. Deut 30:11-14 says, in part (and from two different translations):

For this commandment, which I command thee this day, it is not too hard for thee, neither is it far off...No, the thing is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart...

This thing, what Rabbi Lew calls the pain sitting on the top of your heart right now, can be accessed through prayer (your mouth) and/or meditation (your heart). In other words, in the times when you have let go of your ego and have gotten outside yourself, that's when you glimpse it. They're the thoughts that seep into your consciousness when you're not looking, and keep doing so.

Now, I am still wresting with this one (but that's our lot, isn't it? :), because I'm not entirely sure I can trust the thoughts that creep up when my mind veers in shul to be any different from those that come up while stuck in traffic. When I voiced this on our way home from class that night, Amberly pointed to what is perhaps the right sign-post: when we are praying (really into it, not looking to see who just came into room) and when we meditate, we have different stimuli than we do the rest of the time (in traffic or whenever). That is to say: it's only ourselves. So if we're our only stimulus in these times, I can buy that just maybe the stuff that comes up again and again might be what our hearts are trying to tell us about ourselves.

I think I'll skip talking about Garry's class (since it is part of a different week) for now to just say that I had a wonderful shabbat. I went to davven with the Mission Minyan on Friday night, in the spirit of trying everything at least twice. While I don't find the spark that I find at Beyt Tikkun, it's not an altogether disagreeable service, and I was able to get my prayer on, if sometimes despite my surroundings. Saturday, I spent a quiet morning (silent is more precise, since Amberly is out of town) reading and studying. An afternoon walk to Dolores park led to a chance encounter with a friend, which is always nice. I do admit, I couldn't resist the temptation to tune in the Michigan football game on TV...I'm okay with that! Despite that slight backslide, I found what I had been missing for a while - the connection to, and being in, creation.

One thing that I still miss, and am finding is at the core of my teshuvah (and, as I said before, isn't new), is connecting with a community. After five years in this city, you'd think that wouldn't be the case...but this is a topic for another post.

L'shana tova, y'all.

Before the answers, more questions

I've been meditating and writing and reading, trying to suss out the name of the weight on my heart this Elul. The answers, not surprisingly, are not new. But before I get there, I feel like I need to sharpen, or in this case broaden, the questions I am asking. So, here we go:

Where and when am I acting out of fear or greed? Why?

What am I afraid of?

When is enough? How can I learn to tell?

How can I replace with love my places of fear?

This is not new territory for me. It is a practice I learned from Rabbi Lerner - re-framing situations based on a continuum of love and fear, and trying to maximize the love in the world. I have spent a lot of time in the last year or so trying to see God in the stranger and identifying fear in the actions of others, but now I need to go internally and look at myself more deeply.

I also spent the last year wrapped up in the bliss of my new marriage. That's not to say married life is any less blissful now that our first anniversary passed (yesterday), but as the intensity has worn off to a healthy warm glow, it has revealed other areas in my life that need attention. This is good. More on this to come.

Booklist

As I go through this process of Teshuvah, I am compiling a list of books I would like to read (oy, so many!). This is in no particular order and by no means exhaustive, so if anyone would like to add to it, please do so.

Finding Our Way: Jewish Texts and the Lives We Lead Today, Barry Holtz (N.Y., Schocken, 1993)
Guide to Jewish Books: Where to Start Reading About Jewish History, Literature, Culture and Religion, Barry Holtz (N.Y. Schocken Books, 1992)
Wanderings, Chaim Potok (Knopf, 1978)
The Way of Torah: An Introduction to Judaism, Jacob Neusner (Belmont, CA, Wadsworth Publishing, 1988)
Jewish Spirituality, Vols. I and II, edited by Arthur Green (Crossroad, 1988)
Honey From the Rock: Visions of Jewish Mystical Renewal, Lawrence Kushner,(Jewish Lights, Woodstock, Vt., 1990)
Kabbalah: the Heart of Jewish Mysticism , Daniel Matt, (HarperCollins, S.F., 1995)
Hasidism and Modern Man , Martin Buber, (PUB)
Seek My Face, Arthur Green, (Jewish Lights, 2004))
Standing Again at Sinai, Judith Plaskow,
These Holy Sparks : The Rebirth of the Jewish People , Arthur Waskow,(Harper and Row, N.Y., 1983)
Down to Earth Judaism: Food, Money, Sex, and The Rest of Life ,Arthur Waskow, Wm. Morrow 1997)
Jewish Renewal: A Path to Healing and Transformation, Michael Lerner, Grosset/Putnam, N.Y., 1994) (for real this time)
Netivot Shalom, Rabbi Shalom Noach Brazovsky
I and Thou, Martin Buber
God in Search of Man, Abraham Joshua Heschel

I'll keep adding posts when I come across other reading lists. Thanks to Aleph for the start of this one...

My first Elul

I feel like a newborn, experiencing things for the first time. Maybe it's this funky mood I've been in, but I think it goes beyond that. Elul, the month given for reflection leading to Teshuvah - our return - at Yom Kippur, grabbed me without my knowledge, shook me and said, "We're really doing it this year."

Tonight was the first night of the "Meditation and Teshuvah" class with Rabbi Lew, and he described the cycle of the days of awe as starting with Tisha b'Av, the time we mourn the falling of the temple and our estrangement as a people. Estrangement is necessary in a process that ends in return. Elul, then, is the time to listen to our hearts and find where it is we need to (re)turn to.

I've been Jewish all my life, but never have I stared the tradition in the face so directly and felt it so...new. I realize that I have taken my habit of relying on secondary sources to an extreme with my Judaism, content with listening to rabbis tell me about texts and interpretations, without engaging them directly. I think that is about to change.

I've been reading Adam Lavitt's contemplative blog, and came across an interesting thought about questions for the season, which I'll give a shot:

Where do I begin?

What aspects of Jewish practice are really important to incorporate into my life/our lives?

What do I want to do with this thirst for knowledge?

How does my daily (secular) work relate to my spiritual practice?

How can I align the two more tightly?