Tonight’s guest blogger is Danielle Henson from the Gail Borden Public Library. She and I have partnered on a number of things in the City of Elgin, including Courageous Community Conversations, the vigil after the Orlando Nightclub Shooting, the Long Red Line/One Billion Rising and the Unity March. In November Gail Borden Library will be hosting CKI’s Book Group for National Jewish Book Month. She read the initial words of Joy in Hebrew and has used each one. Here are her words:

My Simcha: Sharing

I love to learn. I love to engage with my creative, diverse and volunteer-rich community. Joy is felt, for me, when I am sharing my love of learning with others by listening to them, and connecting them to vehicles that allow them to share, teach and help others in the community. The library, historically, is an unlikely place to weave community joy, talent and resources, but our library is fully engaged in the art of listening, uplifting and sharing. For me, joy is in the act of deep listening. Joy is in the act of reading or researching. Joy is in the natural connections that can be offered in a community that responds to problems and not react to them. There is where my Simcha abides.

Joy is felt in the safety of a community that works proactively to face difficult issues. I find joy in facing challenges of hate by lifting up stories of people and communities that have overcome hate and fear with the strong words “Not in Our Town”..  I find joy in supporting the community’s quest for cultural and religious intelligence by sharing stories, life experiences, community art projects, cultural celebrations, events and invitations, films and music. I find joy in the community knocking on our door to offer to share their book clubs, creative ideas, culture, literature and ideas about how they would like to build bridges of understanding.

I find joy in the introspection and wisdom of personal stories born and shared in my community. I find joy in the courage my neighbors express their deepest hurts, their hardest lessons and their empowering triumph. I find joy in the young people who listen and learn from other’s stories and the books they choose to read. I fill up with joy when someone has received a wise word, expressed a tear of empathy, encouraged a troubled heart to persevere through sharing.

My joy comes from the Orah examples of our most passionate religious leaders (Rabbi Klein and other faith leaders), and from our community leaders in many organizations that shine that light through their work each day. I feel my joy watching those that don’t know they are community leaders gain insight, wisdom and embrace the leadership space that other leaders make for them to emerge.

In all of these ways I find my Simcha. I find it through my library, on the shelf and in the eyes and hearts of those I serve.

Shalom!
Danielle Henson, Community Engagement Liason, Gail Borden Library

Today Heather and I and our VP of Education, Sue Johnson attended a conference sponsored by JUF (Jewish United Fund) on inclusion. This fits squarely within our mission statement which includes, “Embracing Diversity”.

For me “Embracing Diversity” includes more than embracing the religious spectrum that is CKI. More that embracing interfaith families. More than embracing the families where one member was born in a foreign country (we have roughly 17 countries at last count!) More than families that are not “traditional.” One parent. Stay at home dad. Two moms. Two dads. Single. Empty nester. Below the poverty line.

Who ever you are, you are welcome at CKI. We will meet you where you are. Or at least I will.

I have worked in many different Jewish educational settings. It is always sad to me to hear stories, and hear them too frequently, of the rabbi who said that a kid will never learn to have a Bar Mitzvah. Or the ed director who says that we don’t have enough resources to accommodate your child. Or the board member who didn’t understand why accessibility is important.

The hand out from this morning was entitled, “Welcome Everyone…With Joy.” Pirke Avot 1:15. Expect you may see this quote. Possibly again and again.

While I have been talking about the difference between a culture of obligation and a culture of desire, this quote puts the obligation back on us. We need to welcome everyone. With joy.

The presenter spoke about a woman who searched for a synagogue for 14 years. That’s a long time. She had a speech impediment and can be difficult to understand. She finally found a synagogue home and goes to Torah Study every week. She says, “All I ever wanted was to belong.”

We need to with someone and not for someone. We need to see people with disabilities not as a mitzvah project, since people with disabilities are obligated to do their own mitzvot.

We need to see the joy they bring to their own praying, singing, learning. They teach us. A few years ago there was a documentary that came out called Praying with Lior. You can watch the trailer here: http://www.prayingwithlior.com/ He prays with such joy, such intensity, it is amazing.

Today we watched a video about a congregation in Minnesota. You can watch it here. http://www.betshalom.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=435&Itemid=1623

The rabbi uses the idea of b’tzelem elohim, that we are all created in the image of the Divine. And that our house should be a house for all people.

They get most of it right. And they know they still are not perfect. Neither are we. Come walk the journey with us and experience joy.

Then we will all, and all means all, be filled with joy.

“It is hard to sing of oneness when our world is not complete, when those who once brought wholeness to our live have gone, and nothing but memory can fill the emptiness their passing leaves behind . . . Yet no one is really alone; those who live no more echo still within our thoughts and words, and what they did is part of what we have become. We do best homage to our dead when we live our lives most fully, even in the shadow of our loss. For each of our lives is worth the live of the whole world: in each one is the breath of the Divine. In affirming God we affirm the worth of each one whose life, now ended, brought us closer to the source of life, in whose unity no one is alone and every life finds purpose.” Chaim Stern in Gates of Prayer, a reading before Kaddish.

We can’t always find joy. We can’t always be happy.

I went to a 911 Memorial today. I know exactly where I was. I can recount each moment of 9/11/01, 15 years ago today. I know people who were in the towers. People who were on planes. People who were at the Pentagon. I spent the day at rabbinical school learning how to be a pastoral counselor. I learned so much more.

I remember the bright blue skies. I remember the drive from Riverdale to Connecticut to Boston. I remember the sound of sirens, the smoke, the lack of traffic. I remember the fighter jets but no other plane traffic. I remember the fear of whether I had enough gas, whether my debit card would work. I remember those early first phone calls once I got to Connecticut and I was out of New York’s cell tower space. Questions. Lots of questions. How do I tell the students of my elementary school one of whose father just died on a plane? How do I handle the media in my small town since the pilot was a congregant? Do I cancel Hebrew School today? Where are you?

The next day I was at a Habitat for Humanity site with other clergy. As I often say, while all the world seemed like it was collapsing, we were building something. Together. Jews, Christians, Buddhists, Hindu, Muslims.

Then the stories started. We knew people who were in the planes. We knew people who lost people. We knew people who walked down countless flights of stairs and then they ran. Real people with real stories. It was hard to keep them straight. Living in Boston and commuting to New York weekly, everyone knew someone directly affected.

I wandered amongst the flags. I found the flags for some of the people I knew. There was one that was missing. I thought about each family. I cried.

It has been fifteen years. Today I went to a 911 Memorial. I watched kids rolling down a hillside. I watched kids playing hide and seek amongst 3000 flags. I watched kids climbing on fire trucks. These are kids who don’t remember 911. These are kids being kids. These are kids who matter today. And I found joy on that hillside.

Tonight begins Shabbat. Shabbat brings us joy. It is a taste of the world to come. A chance to slow down. Relax. Maybe even smell the roses.

Sometimes we get caught in the cycle of all the “Thou Shall Nots” and there are many of them for Shabbat. Don’t do this. Don’t do that. 39 categories of prohibited work. And the work as we know it may not be the work as the rabbis defined it. They wanted us to take a break. They wanted us to pause and be refreshed. It says that G-d rested on the seventh day and was refreshed.

Shabbat is a unique moment in time. A palace in time. Something to be treasured. Not for all the Do Nots. But precisely because it brings us joy. “Just as Israel has keep Shabbat, so has Shabbat kept Israel,” said Ahad Ha’am.

Earlier today in a different context I was asked in a group what I wanted to try that was new for my health or my diet. It has been a long week. Little exercise, much work. I chuckled to myself and said, “Sleep.” And it has been proven that adequate sleep leads to weight loss.

Shabbat naps. Shabbat sleep. Even, dare I say it, Shabbat sex. The rabbis thought that since sex adds to joy, performing the marriage act or using the bed (that’s what they called it) would be a double mitzvah on Shabbat.

That is part of Shabbat. Sleep. So tonight, when I come home from services, I won’t stay up reading a book, although I could argue that would also bring me joy. Instead I will come home and go to sleep.

Our next guest blogger, The Reverend Jeanne Davies, is a new friend. She is a pastor with the Church of the Brethren with a new ministry, Parables, designed especially for people with disabilities and their families. She and I have enjoyed Cubs games, home baked raspberry pie, long cups of coffee, and walking in a local bird sanctuary. She with her dog. All of that brings us joy. Especially our dogs. As she said:

Last night my husband, Joel, came home from buying milk at the grocery store. Our dog, Seamus, was very excited that he had returned. He did his usual little canine happy dance but then, as Joel sat down on the couch to watch television, Seamus’ tail continued to wiggle. He approached my husband, gazing adoringly, inviting him into the joy of the moment. Seamus then jumped up on the couch, his face inches from Joel’s, expressing his delight. Joel said, “I already walked him. I fed him. What does he want?” I said, “He just wants to celebrate with you. He’s so glad you are home.”

Sometimes I jokingly call Seamus my spiritual director. He lives in the moment. He is enthusiastic about those he loves. He never holds back but embraces life and love fully. There is no ambivalence – such passion and joy! There is a saying, “I pray to be the person my dog thinks I am.”

Who could live up to that? It’s a tall order to fill. We all have our good days and our bad days. But God is always enthusiastically, passionately in love with us. God is continually hoping for the best in us, encouraging us, and gazing at us with a deep joy.

Do I reflect that joyful image of God in my relationship with others? Sadly, I might do a worse job than our dog at the joy thing. Last night I was thinking about the dishes in the sink, the weeds in the lawn, my work for tomorrow. Gazing at the calendar in my phone, I barely registered that my husband had come home until my dog drew my attention. Joel’s home! What a joy! And bringing milk! What a bonus! And I’m thinking he might even do the dishes… I really love him. And that crazy dog who reminds me to take joy in life and love.

The Reverend Jeanne Davies

What if we stop worrying about getting things exactly right and live in the moment?
What if we forget the pictures from Better Homes and Gardens about how our houses should look, especially at the holidays, and concentrate on how we treat the people in our homes?
What if we move from a culture of obligation to a culture of desire, of delight?

Then this showed up in my Facebook feed from Rabbi Bradley Artson:

Perfect. The Psalmist said, “Make a joyful noise to the Lord. Serve the Lord with gladness. Come before G-d’s presence with singing.” (Psalm 100). Seems simple, no? Sometimes we make it all so complicated. All G-d wants, all G-d desires is that we serve G-d. With song. With music. With joy.

Psalm 100 is not part of typical Jewish liturgy. I learned this psalm as a song at Girl Scout Camp. This summer I was privileged to hear Pastor Nat Edmond of Second Baptist Church made this point this summer at the celebration of his church’s 150^th anniversary. He boils it down to “Shout. Serve. Sing.” Easy.

This is what I told my board last night. We started by singing happy birthday to one of our board members. She chose to be at CKI last night, even though it was her birthday. Yom Huledet Samayach. Happy Birthday. We are joyous, samayach on the day of your birth!

It connects nicely with the paradigm shift I am trying to create. We need to come to synagogue not out of some vague sense of obligation. Not because we owe it to our parents or grandparents, or looking forward to our children and grandchildren. Or even to our fellow congregants. We need to come to synagogue because it brings us joy and we want to share that joy. Shout it out. Sing praise. Because we ourselves want to be there. Because we desire to be there. Because we desire to serve G-d with joy. Because we want to sing. Because it is good for us. Because it is good for G-d. Because it brings us joy.

It is our job as a board to make sure that can happen for everyone who enters our doors. It is also as my original typo suggests, it is our JOY.

Then as the song I taught on Shabbat teaches, “Those who keep the Sabbath can call it a delight, an oneg Shabbat.”

As we have done in the past few years, we are blessed with guest bloggers. They bring me great joy. They deepen our conversation and enrich our understanding. Our first guest is Rabbi Maralee Gordon. Rabbi Gordon was a classmate of mine at the Academy for Jewish Religion where we both commuted to school She from Chicago and me from Boston. We were friends although she was ahead of me in her coursework. When I interviewed in Elgin, I realized that she would be the rabbi in closest proximity to me. We would be now be neighbors and friends and sometimes even study partners. We share a deep commitment, a passion for social justice and even traveled to Ferguson together. We also share a love of these prairie skies. She recently retired from her positions at McHenry County Jewish Congregation and the one in DeKalb. I think the next chapter may include experiencing joy with grandchildren. Here are her words about joy:

If, when I wake up in the morning, before getting out of bed, I think to myself, “Maralee, you are a soul,” I feel mellow joy suffuse my being.

If, when I am overwhelmed by love for the person I am communicating with, I express gratitude for our connection, I feel deep joy.

If, when driving country roads toward a distant destination, I look, really look, at the sky and the wonder that is clouds and light, I can’t stop myself from smiling, grinning really.

If, when I open the refrigerator, I see three different things I would really like to eat, I am happy to have so many possibilities.

If, when I take that first bite, I am not distracted by what I am reading in print or on the screen in front of me, and I let the sensation of that first taste sink in, I am happy.

If, when I’m feeding my mother and I try to give her the next spoonful too soon, she turns to me and raises one eyebrow, I almost laugh to see that spark of her still there inside.

If, when taking an early morning walk with friends, our words and laughter (and sometimes sorrow or anger) mix with our strong strides so that we don’t particularly notice that the hill is steep, I am happy.

If, when I come home, there is no task urgently calling to me, and I can put my feet up and just sit, I feel joy.

Rabbi Maralee Gordon

Finding Joy seems like a game of hide and seek. “Ready or not here I come!” The childhood game can erupt in giggles and laughter when a person is found. That’s what happens with joy. It makes us smile or giggle or laugh when we find it. Without being self-conscious.

William Wordsworth wrote a poem, “Surprised by Joy” when dealing with grief after his daughter died:

Surprised by joy — impatient as the Wind
I turned to share the transport — Oh! with whom
But Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find?
Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind —
But how could I forget thee? Through what power,
Even for the least division of an hour,
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
To my most grievous loss? — That thought’s return
Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
Knowing my heart’s best treasure was no more;
That neither present time, nor years unborn
Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.

Sometimes joy just sneaks up on us, when we are least expecting it. Sometimes it catches us off guard. Sometimes it is profound feeling that cannot be put into words. You know it when you feel it.

Perhaps that is why there are so many words for joy in Hebrew.

• Simcha, joy with a sense of passion, also the name of a celebration.(and my middle name in Hebrew!)
• Osher, Happiness like in the song, Ashrei yoshvei…Happy is the one who dwells in the house of the Lord. In this case it can also be a pun on the word for being rich.
• Ora, which means both light and joy. There is a song Ora v’simcha–light and joy!
• Gila, an exuberant outburst of joy or the happiness of discovery, to reveal G-d, which is a great source of joy
• Rina, joy, sometimes singing, sometimes “refreshing happiness” or if you scramble the letters, candle (ner) of G-d
• Ditza, a sublime joy
• Sasson, sudden unexpected happiness
• Tzahala, happiness and dancing
• Chedva, happiness of togetherness which only shows up twice in the Hebrew Bible

As I write this, I find myself humming the last blessing of the “Sheva Brachot”, the seven marriage blessings. Many of the Hebrew words for joy are in just this one paragraph.

“Blessed are You, Lord our G‑d, Ruler of the universe, who created joy (sasson) and happiness (simcha), groom and bride, gladness (gila), jubilation (rina), cheer (ditza) and delight (cheva), love, friendship, harmony and fellowship. L-rd our G‑d, let there speedily be heard in the cities of Judah and in the streets of Jerusalem the sound of joy (sasson) and the sound of happiness (simcha), the sound of a groom and the sound of a bride, the sound of exultation of grooms from under their chuppah, and youths from their joyous (simcha) banquets. Blessed are You Lord, who gladdens the groom with the bride.”

 
There you have it. Joy, all the words. All in one prayer!

Sometimes, I am surprised by joy, surprised by my husband, even after all these years. Sometimes that too can be a game of hide and seek. Sometimes the secret is in leaving room to be surprised by joy, by not filling up every available space, or every available timeslot. Leaving room, I am surprised by joy. Then as the psalmist says, “My cup runneth over.”

I am surprised by joy in a myriad of ways. During the next few weeks we will look at all those ways we can be surprised by joy. And maybe in the process we will learn how to sustain joy.

“For the joy of Judaism that keeps going and going and going.” That’s the tag line of my blog, the Energizer Rabbi. It’s whimsical and it’s happy. Happy Rosh Hodesh Elul. Today is the first morning of the Hebrew month of Elul. OK—it is really the second morning but yesterday was Shabbat and I don’t post on Shabbat and it is a two day Rosh Hodesh.

For some, Rosh Hodesh Elul signals the beginning of the High Holiday season. 40 days until Yom Kippur. For some rabbis, worried about massive to do lists and getting it all just right, it is terrifying! For some people, worried about the metaphor of G-d writing us in the Book of Life it is also terrifying. The stakes are high.

For me, it can be those things. But to answer a question that people often ask me, Rosh Hashanah IS a happy holiday. So for the next 40 days we are going to explore joy. Something near and dear to my own heart since Joy is my middle name and the one my family uses.

Sometimes joy seems elusive, fleeting. Sometimes, like yesterday it is easy to find. We spent Shabbat talking about “oneg Shabbat”, the pleasure, the delight of Shabbat. Then a small group of my congregation went to the Anderson Japanese Gardens in Rockford, IL, to experience “oneg Shabbat” in the beauty of a natural setting.

Anderson is one of those places that makes me happy. It is beautiful. It is serene. It enables me to be calm and experience my deeper self. I was excited to share this special place with special friends.

It has a reflecting pool filled with koi, two beautiful waterfalls, a formal Japanese tea house, lush green lawns and a pavilion ideal for summer band concerts or outdoor weddings. And a lovely restaurant overlooking it all with organic, locally sourced food.

Yesterday we began by walking around the reflecting pond—enjoying the sounds of joy and laughter as a wedding ceremony was taking place. Then we gathered under a bright red umbrella and I led a guided meditation about walking with G-d and returning. Return, Teshuva, is a big theme of this season. One thing that brings me joy, is that G-d is always available to us, always willing to meet us where we are. It helps that we were in a beautiful setting.

We read a poem about Elul. This one based on Psalm 27, the Psalm for the Season of Repentance, by Rabbi Patti Haskell, I fell in love with. http://www.ritualwell.org/ritual/poem-elul-psalm-27

Good morning, God, happy Elul.
This day, one thing do I ask of you, God,
One thing do I seek:
To dwell in your house
All the days of my life.

… and while I dwell with you
Perhaps a few more things I might request:
Good health is at the top of my list—
For me, my family, my loved ones,
While we’re at it how about everyone, everywhere.

And perhaps food:
A healthy nosh for all who are hungry.
Quench all hunger and thirst with your love.
We do hunger for more than food and drink, so
Please quench other needs as well.

Okay, how ‘bout safety.
Safety from earthquakes, hurricanes,
Safety from one another.
Safety from all that frightens us
Safety to rest in your care.

And laughter.
Please give us much fun, silliness
to giggle at, many many smiles.
Smiles as we watch children investigate their worlds,
Smiles as we explore the lives of our elders.

God, let me behold your graciousness
Today… each day of Elul… each day
Of this year, and next, and then the next,
While I visit your temple
And immerse in your love.

We heard those sounds of laughter. From the little children investigating their world. We explored what it means to be elderly and maybe not walk as well as we once did. And still we found joy.

Then people scattered with a Shabbat afternoon amidah and a shiviti, a focus on G-d’s name to do their own prayers, own meditations, own soul searching. Yud, Hay, Vuv, Hay. I am holy. All is clear. You are loved. All is perfect.”

When we gathered again, we sang Hashivenu and ended with another poem, written by a classmate of mine, Trisha Arlin.

http://www.ritualwell.org/ritual/return-prayer-elul

Then we sat and schmoozed in this glorious place,under bright blue skies enjoying the beauty and each other’s company.

Mincha is a gift. A pause in our frenetic pace. A brief interlude and a chance to remember that we are pure, blameless, created in joy. We are holy. We are loved. And we can return to that state. Whenever and wherever we want. It helps to be in a beautiful space.

Good health, enough food, safety, laughter, love. What would you pray for while dwelling in the House of the Lord—inside a synagogue building or outside in G-d’s House, G-d’s own beautiful creation. Come explore joy with me. Then we will be ready to enter the new year.