I want to share several vignettes this Labor Day weekend. It was a busy one and they don’t fit nicely together. But each of them is important as we continue the preparations and the journey toward Rosh Hashanah.
Part One:
Saturday morning, we celebrated Shabbat and the Bar Mitzvah of a young man. The day dawned stormy. And somehow that seemed right. This Bar Mitzvah boy had a tough year. His mother had cancer and two stem cell transplants, with two hospital stays over six weeks. In downtown Chicago. When we initially set the date, we couldn’t have foreseen how complicated a year it would be—or as it progressed just how far he would come. There were some moments when I even wondered if we would all be there.
I knew that there wouldn’t be many dry eyes—but I expected the tears to come during the Bar Mitzvah boy’s speech. Instead, they came when he was reading Torah. His grandparents had just had the aliyah (Torah blessing) with the curses. We did the misheberach prayer for healing of mind, body or spirit. No one had said the mother’s name—I asked my student if he wanted to or whether she didn’t want a public fuss. He told me her name could come off the list—and I then announced that. Then between her tears and mine—somehow she had her very first aliyah. It was a real shechianu moment. The Bar Mitzvah boy chanted confidently and surely. And the tears flowed. Later, after his Haftarah from Isaiah, the sixth of consolation after Tisha B’av, providing great comfort leading up to Rosh Hashanah, my student talked about how his portion gives hope and optimism. How to turn things that are seeming curses into blessings. His optimism and his humor gives me hope.
His project for Living Well Cancer Resource Center in Geneva, IL. Part of Northwestern Medical, it provides all sorts of resources for patients and their families living with cancer. He has thus far raised over $3600. But his understanding of the issues, of his parsha, and his actions, bring me more hope.
https://www.gofundme.com/aidendonationproject-livingwell
Part Two:
For four weeks, some of us have gathered as part of Kiddush to study the Book of Jonah, the traditional haftarah for Yom Kippur afternoon. Each week we took a chapter and looked in depth. After we greeted the Bar Mitzvah family and enjoyed a nosh and drink, we again gathered to study to finish reading the book ahead of our scholar, Rabbi Steven Bob, who is coming next week. He wrote a book, two really, on the Book of Jonah.
This is a great book to study—at lots of ages—with Hebrew School this week, we turned everyone into a Jonah, as we “arose” and bought passage on a ship, and fell asleep below deck and experienced yet another Illinois thunderstorm, then were awakened and casted lots (by the way, that’s a gambling thing—not a fishing pole!), then were thrown overboard and swam through the social hall until we were swallowed by a giant fish. Then we prayed…
We prayed this week with the adults too. “Lord, I am not sure why you have chosen me to be your messenger. I’m sorry I didn’t listen the first time and tried to run away. I know now that I cannot run away from Your presence. Thank you for saving me and providing me this fish. But it is really dark and moist in here. I’m getting cold and clammy and thirsty and hungry. I’m scared, G-d. I want to die and I don’t want to die all at the same time. If You get me out of here, I promise to offer thanks—and go to Nineveh after all, even though I don’t really want to. I still think I would rather die or run away.”
And then—as the kids said—the Lord “burped” Jonah out onto dry land. The conversation was rich—exactly what text study should be. Is this a story about Jonah or Ninevah? Why did G-d pick Jonah? He’s not a very good prophet. He’s a very small minded prophet, mostly concerned about himself. Why is this connected with Yom Kippur. It seems because it repeats the 13 Attributes of G-d which we use on Yom Kippur and because it illustrates that G-d is a patient G-d, one who forgives and gives second chances. Even to Jonah. Even to us. I am looking forwarded to the discussion next week and learning even more from my colleague, Rabbi Steven Bob.
I already know this. For the 13 people who have studied Jonah with me for the last four weeks, the reading this year will be much more meaningful. It will be for me.
Part Three: Selichot
On the Saturday night before Rosh Hashanah, Ashkanasi Jews begin adding prayers for Selichot, forgiveness. This year because Rosh Hashanah begins on a Sunday evening, it is pushed earlier a week so it was this Saturday night. It is one of the ways we prepare for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. In the old days, it was held before dawn. Then the rabbis pushed it back to midnight. Now some congregations start with seudah shlishit (the third meal of Shabbat) Havdalah, some study and then selichot prayers. Some congregations show a thought provoking movie to spark the discussion.
This year I chose to show the movie Coco, the new animated Disney film. It is about the Mexican Day of the Dead. Día de los Muertos.
As National Geographic points out it is not the Mexican equivalent of Halloween.
As soon as I saw the movie, I immediately knew that I wanted to use it for Selichot. Why, you might ask. Because Elgin is 47% Hispanic and it might resonate. Every year I talk to someone about their desire to convert or reaffirm their Jewishness because they may be part of the hidden Jews, conversos, who were forced to flee Spain and Portugal during the Spanish Inquisition in 1492.
Día de los Muertos is a blending of indigenous Mayan traditions layered with some traditions of the Catholic Church. It is a way to honor the dead and to celebrate life at the same time. It can be a way to keep memory alive and to heal old relationships and wounds. It sounds very similar to the role of Yizkor (memorial prayers said on Yom Kippur and the three pilgrimage holidays) and Kever Avot (visiting the cemetery typically between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur).
And since it would be the Saturday night of Labor Day Weekend, after a Bar Mitzvah, it might appeal to others including families with children. And it might be fun. An opportunity to nosh on Mexican appetizers. Even have a mariachi band. Or a klezmer one playing mariachi.
The band was not to be—but we did have 27 people show up—from 8-80+ in years. There were Mexican appetizers and a coffee bar. And of course, popcorn because it was a movie and chocolate cake—because why not. There were some technical glitches. (Oy! But thank you to Sarah who helped with the appetizers, the technology and the shofar blowing!)
It is important to not engage in cultural appropriation. I said as much. What I was trying to do was to show how a different tradition addresses some of the themes of t’shuvah—return and zachor—remembrance. The emphasis on tradition and family and memory wasn’t lost on anyone in the room. And again there were more tears. There was not so much discussion afterwards—I think people couldn’t yet talk.
However, they went home with a work sheet from Rabbi Anne Brenner who wrote Mourning and Mitzvah and spoke recently at a Chicago Board of Rabbis meeting. Her concept for Yizkor, especially for the one during Yom Kippur is useful. And was another reason why I wanted to use Coco as this discussion starter.
She implores us to look at Kol Nidre as a way of releasing vows—especially when dealing with a loss and its grief.
We say that Teshuvah (return, repentance) Tefilah (prayer) and Tzedakah (acts of generosity and charity) can avert the severity of the decree as part of our High Holiday liturgy. I have often railed against this sentiment. I know plenty of good people who engage in plenty of teshuvah, tefilah and tzedakah and they still die.
Rabbi Brenner asks us:
What are the “if onlys” and the unfinished business. How do we do teshuvah—return? Can we redeem our regrets? What regrets do you have? What regrets do our loved ones might have? What are the prayers, tefilah, for sincere commitment to change. What do you want to change? And finally, what acts of tzedakah do you pledge to do or give in memory of your loved one?
Yizkor—please G-d, remember my loved one, my teacher. If you do, I will pledge to do tzedakah.
If it one of those if-then statements that is part of the covenant. If You G-d, remember then I too will remember. If I remember, then they will be ameliorated in the world to come. Because of their merit (zecut avot), I too will be remembered for a blessing—and for Your mercy and compassion. By my remembering I can begin to make my family whole.
Here is the analysis of a New York Times writer of why we cry at the end of Coco.
https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2018/08/20/arts/coco-scene.html
Certainly it is cathartic. As is Yizkor. “The restorative power of memory is a recurring theme: To remember someone is to keep their spirit alive. But it’s how one is thought of that is equally important.” That’s teshuvah. The power to return. To heal. To reconcile. Even after someone is gone. It can change the entire shared family narrative.
Then a few prayers of selichot, begging for forgiveness, in High Holiday melody and one single long blast of the shofar, a tekiah gedolah.
Part Four: Preparations Continue
Rabbis prepare for the High Holidays in lots of different ways. Some of us study. Reading books, articles, seeing movies, studying with colleagues and friends. Some of us engage in long, deep conversations. Some of us take long walks—in the woods or along the beach. Some of us meditate. Some of us immerse in a mikveh. Some of us practice music and Torah readings. Sing with a choir. Work with musicians. Choose meaningful readings. Write sermons. Prepare study sessions. Attend selichot. Blow shofar.
There is always a sense of fear and trembling, awe and humility. Will I find the right words? Will I have enough stamina? Will the people have a positive experience, a meaningful experience.
There are lots of little details. Press releases. Topics. Themes. Music. Readings. Swapping out the prayer books. Changing the linens from blue to white. Children’s services. Greeters. Security. Guests to invite. Who still needs a place?
Part of my preparation involves those long walks on the beach or the woods. A slow immersion in a mikveh (or natural body of water). Listening to a summer thunderstorm. Reading. Long conversations—preferably on those long walks. And writing. This weekend my family and I were grateful for the gift of a cottage. Right on Lake Michigan. As I write this, I am listening (and enjoying!) to a summer thunderstorm. A long conversation this morning with one of my rabbis. A walk in the woods in a primeval forest (luckily we got back before the storm) and plenty of time for writing and day dreaming and davenning.
It’s Labor Day. I chose to work today. I chose to work in a beautiful place. It makes my soul sing. It is how I prepare best. And I don’t regret it or resent it. I relish in it.
I am grateful to the people who organized in this country to make sure that there are better working conditions for us all. Much of that happened after the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire. Many of the organizers were Jews. Or women in the textile mills of Lawrence and Lowell. We need Bread and Roses, was their rallying cry.
Unions have taken a bad rap in recent years. Not from me. It is because of the Teamsters in Massachusetts that we had adequate health care coverage. More than adequate. Gold standard! For which we did not pay a dime. My husband continued to have a job when the union went to bat for him because either he was slow, old, or Jewish. It was never really clear. But the union walked him through that process. And because of that union we have a pension. I am very, very grateful.
Bread and Roses. Time for beauty and work. We need bread and roses. Pirke Avot 3:21 tells us, “Ein kemach, Ein Torah. Ein Torah, Ein kemach. Without sustenance, there is no Torah and without Torah there is no there is no parnasa, no income and visa versa. What ever you are doing today, I hope it is beautiful, filled with roses. And when we return to work, may it be meaningful, productive, safe and guarantee us “time off for good behavior”.
I am grateful that I had the opportunity to work today—to share a little Torah amongst the beauty of the world.