Lately I have been thinking a lot about transitions. First my daughter graduated from college, and that is a big transition. Then I am leaving one job where parents were concerned about how to help their students transition from one rabbi to the next. And because I am leaving that job, I am in a state of transition as well. Last week I led two ceremonies of transition—one for my staff and school committee members. I used a service written by my chevruta partner and good friend, Rabbi Linda Shriner Cahn, which draws on the symbols of Havdalah that help separate Shabbat from the rest of the week, sacred from profane. Like the spices of Havdalah, transition moments can be bittersweet, excited about the new possibilities, sad to be leaving old friends and colleagues, and scared about the challenges that lie ahead.

I added to her service the song “L’chi Lach”, by Debbi Friedman, z’l, who paraphrased the story of Abraham. “Go to yourself, to the land that I will show you.” When Abraham heard those words he and Sarah did not know where they were going. That is true for me as I write these words. Close to knowing, but not yet sure.

Like Havdalah, liminal moments can be filled with joy and gratitude, which the wine represents. Like Havdalah, we hope to be able to see the signs by the light of fire, warmed and comforted. Linda uses sea shells as a sign of transition. Butterflies might work too. But seashells and starfish have been important to me. I love going to the ocean. I love going to the mikveh—any natural body of water will do it. It calms me, it cleanses me, it brings me hope and optimism. My first staff meeting, I told the story of the starfish and the little boy—in my case, the little girl—and how she made a difference to that starfish she threw back into the water. So I filled a little gift bag with sand, a seashell, a starfish charm, and some spices. And I asked if they remembered. They all did.

I hope they know that they really have made a difference. I hope I know. Really know. Deep down in my soul that I am a blessing, and that each of my staff is a blessing.

Then, I did the same thing at GLILA. My favorite Roman Catholic, French Canadian nun pointed out that in French they have the same construction as L’chi Lach, Go for yourself—and that they have even choreographed it as sacred dance. It was a nice moment. Whether we go, go to ourselves or go for ourselves, we become that blessing.

Finally, I went to the mikveh at Mayyim Hayyim, a place that is very dear to my heart. It has seen me through joy and sadness, pain, mourning, and recovery. Mayyim Hayyim is the type of community I want to create wherever I go. A safe place, a non-judgmental place where everyone’s Judaism is accepted and everyone is embraced and welcomed, met where they are. I immersed in the water and then sang L’chi Lach, quietly, with the best acoustics imaginable. All by myself, for myself, or maybe not quite. Transitions. It is important to mark them.