The next guest blogger is Suzy Zemel, our Sisterhood president and good friend. She works tirelessly on behalf of the synagogue. She is on the board, the education committee and sings in the choir and house band. She coordinates our book group. She is always willing to try something new. This is her first (recent) attempt at poetry:

The Many Sources of Joy

Joy, so many ideas come to mind…

A baby’s laughter makes us smile,
So contagious to hear,
We laugh at the baby’s delight.

Singing, brings delight and joy,
A beautiful piece of music,
Marveling at the teamwork,
Composer and lyricist created.

Cuddling my grandsons,
Laughing and reading together,
Sharing their secret thoughts,
An impulse hug and kiss.

Enjoying a great book,
Not wanting to stop,
Needing to turn to the next page,
Finding out how it ends.

Spring: everything comes alive,
Daffodils and tulips opening,
Such a great source of joy.

Isn’t it amazing,
Year after year,
Plants and animals wake,
Knowing how to proceed,
After the long winter months.

The many colors appear in the sky,
The majestic sunrise,
The sun setting in a grand finale for the day,
The sky turning different shades of blue,
With an abundance of clouds,
Passing and changing formation.
The beauty of a rainbow,
Which seems to just magically appears.

Loving and being loved,
What a great joy.

Giving and helping others,
Support for mankind.

Watching our children graduate,
Joy for them and to us,
As they move on to their next phase of life.

Creating a delicious meal,
Tantalizing smells throughout the house,
Beautiful colors and display,
Mouth watering in anticipation of the taste.

Feeling a baby kick for the first time,
Becoming a parent,
Excitement,
Then sleep deprivation.

Enjoying the company of friends and family,
Laughter, good times,
Making memories that stay in our heart,
The friends that becomes our family.

The feeling I have,
As Shabbat begins,
The peaceful feeling,
Enjoying Shabbat service,
Feeling more peace and joy.

And my list goes on…

Suzy Venetianer Zemel

Sometimes joy seems to be elusive. Sometimes joy seems to be impossible. This can be particularly true after a death of a loved one. In our congregation, we had a number of members lose close relatives this year. A mother, a father, a spouse, a grandchild. All the deaths were painful. There is no timeline on grief. It affects people in different ways on different days. It is an ongoing process. And despite Kubler-Ross’s excellent work, it is not linear. You can go into grief and come back out and go back in again. Maybe further down the path, maybe not. Two steps forward, one back.

But sometimes, slowly, step by step we return. Eventually to joy. This poem expresses that:

To Alyssa, Whose Mother’s Funeral Was Yesterday

“When will I be myself again?”
Some Tuesday, perhaps,
In the late afternoon,
Sitting quietly with a cup of tea
And a cookie;
Or Wednesday, same time or later,
You will stir from a nap and see her;
You will pick up the phone to call her;
You will hear her voice – unexpected advice –
And maybe argue.
And you will not be frightened,
And you will not be sad,
And you will not be alone,
Not alone at all,
And your tears will warm you.
But not today,
And not tomorrow,
And not tomorrow’s tomorrow,
But some day,
Some Tuesday, late in the afternoon,
Sitting quietly with a cup of tea
And a cookie
And you will be yourself again
Lewis Eron

Sometimes joy comes in doing things again and again. That is part of the function of ritual. It provides structure and tradition. A sense of the possible. A way of doing things that is familiar. They comfort us. Ground us. Provided roots. Connect us to our past and our future.

As we approach Rosh Hashanah there are many traditions in our family. Picking apples so we can make applesauce for Chanukah tying the seasons together. Inviting guests for dinner. Blowing shofar on the second morning of Rosh Hashanah at sunrise, preferably on a beach. Spending the second afternoon outdoors contemplating Thoreau’s statement, “I went to the woods to live deliberately.”

These simple things add a richness and meaning to the observance and I look forward to them. Yesterday we had the opportunity to return to a place here in Illinois that brings us joy. We went back to Anderson Gardens, where we had been earlier in the month. We got to share this very special place with our friends Dave and Betty.

And we were treated to some new things. A heron. Two turtles. A bald eagle soaring high overhead. A closer look at the guest house. Such attention to detail. Good conversation. A sense of peace and contentment. A return to joy.

Maybe that is what teshuvah, return, is about. Not repentance per se, but return to joy, return to wholeness.

Today’s guest blogger is the Reverend Doctor David R. Ferner. He and his wife Betty trekked out to Illinois to celebrate part of the holidays with us and to help us prepare. We go way back. Their daughter babysat for ours. We celebrated all sorts of holidays together. We played volleyball together. Now, we pick up conversations now exactly where we left off. Oh, yeah, and usually I say, it is because of Dave’s words to me once, that I actually did become a rabbi.

Here are his words:

JOY . . . A MATTER OF ATTITUDE AND ORIENTATION

I’m certain that I am being arbitrary and playing semantic games, but the challenge is to write about joy or happiness, but I don’t see them as the same. For the sake of argument, I would define happiness as being a momentary and probably fleeting feeling. Joy, on the other hand, is a deeper orientation toward life. Happiness can emerge from an incident, an expression of love from another, a feeling of satisfaction, or any number of experiences. Joy has more to do with a spiritual depth of overall contentment with one’s place in the cosmos and a sense that setbacks or hardships are momentary or situational and have no or simply passing effect on an overall stance toward life.

We seek happiness in all sorts of ways, often unsatisfactory in the long run. In our society we are encouraged to always seek the bigger and better. We need to have the most or, at least, more than whoever we are comparing ourselves to. More love, more toys, more prestige, more power, are all part of our striving. Achievement along this often insatiable path brings fleeting happiness resulting from our accomplishment. When asked if we are happy, it often depends on our current mood or recent events we have experienced.

Joy needs to be cultivated. If we awaken in the morning and are grateful for a new day, even when we know it might be challenging, we are cultivating joy. If we understand ourselves to be children of a Creator who loves us even more than a healthy mother loves her children and that love brings us an overall sense of well-being, we are cultivating joy. When we stop comparing ourselves with others and, rather, cheer the accomplishments of all – that is, in a non-competitive fashion – we are cultivating joy. When we are viewing the world, not in either/or but in a both/and fashion, we are laying the groundwork for being contented with the ‘what is’ rather than the ‘the way I think it is supposed to be’ and joy is being cultivated within us.

There is no ‘joy’ pill we can take. When I observe children with their sense of awe and wonder I see expressions of enormous joy – of heartfelt expressions of amazement and absolute exhilaration at discovery. Before we leave the primary grades in school, intense competitiveness and disappointment at failure saps joy from us. But some I know seem to have cultivated an attitude of joy – found it or, rather, re-found it. When I’ve asked about this attitude, one friend told me she doesn’t see how any other orientation would serve her well. “I take what comes, make the most of it, and give thanks for my blessings”. Another told me “I awaken thankful for a new day and pray that I might find a way to make someone’s life better today.” I might add that he has had a rough bunch of health challenges in recent years with no change in this orientation.

Those who exude joy – have such an attitude and orientation – seem to consider life to be a gift. They seem ‘other’ oriented – God, the mysterious and holy Other, and other humans. They often mention prayer, especially the quiet and reflective sort, as significant. Joy requires some reflection and some discipline, it seems to me. To have such an orientation is so much more deeply rewarding than chasing after fleeting happiness. It is such a gift to others to be around those who have cultivated joy.

Yesterday we talked about finding joy in little things. Earlier in this project we talked about being surprised by joy. One of our readers pointed out that to experience joy we need to leave space.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to be surprised by joy and to notice it. For that I am grateful

• In the young Hebrew School student anxiously waiting to show me his Moses action figure, which I can borrow any time to teach about Moses’s Super Powers and his staff.
• In another young student who brought in a piece of art she created for the Rosh Hashanah art project. Horses make her happy.
• In carrying the Torahs during a fire drill and having a neighbor ask if everything is OK.
• In sitting outside on a gorgeous fall day, enjoying lunch with dear friends.
• In savoring the flavors of that lunch.
• In an unexpected game of mini-golf.
• In a brief, heavy downpour that led to a full rainbow over Hoffman Estates and another one over my house.
• In laughter with friends, a good bottle of wine, an excellent steak and Boggle.

If I hadn’t left time or space, or been present to the moment I might not have experienced those things. Leaving space meant not answering my phone playing mini-golf. That call could wait 15 minutes.

In Judaism there is a blessing for rainbows. Blessed are You, Adonai our G-d who remembers the covenant, zocher habrit.

While the blessing says that it is G-d who remembers the covenant, the function of saying it reminds us who are saying it of the covenant, of that promise to not destroy the world again. Part of that mutual covenant is our being partners with G-d to take care of this world.

Rainbows have always played an important part in my life. I am convinced if you look for one you won’t find it. Like joy, you need to be surprised by it. The appearance of this rainbow was perfect. It came after a Bat Mitzvah weekend, where the Bat Mitzvah girl read a portion that promises success in everything you do if you obey the terms of the covenant. She herself had entered the art show with a painting of rainbows and clouds. So the appearance of the rainbow over her hometown seemed “beshert”, destined.

Rainbows are the perfect balance between sun and rain. They remind me of the covenant that G-d has made with humanity and our responsibility to be partners with G-d in taking care of this world. Rainbows fill me with joy.

This is a busy season. Especially for rabbis. I think I take delight in little things. This are my joys. These are my morning blessings.

• The morning coffee brewed just so, a dollop of whipped cream on top, aroma perking up my taste buds.
• The phone call from a friend, just checking in.
• The morning walk and seeing the expanse of the prairie sky.
• The drive home. Another phone call from another friend
• The house, porch lights on shining like a beacon
• The dog wagging his tail when I come home, asking to be pet in exactly the spot he needs.
• The welcome home kiss.
• The dinner, ready to go, prepared lovingly by husband or daughter
• The conversation over dinner.
• The whirlpool bathtub, good book
• The clean sheets on the bed.
• The blessing of another day. Good night, world!

I think the challenge is to notice those little details. To turn them into blessings. The rabbis of the Talmud taught that we should say 100 Blessings a day. If we are regular shul goers that’s easy. But the challenge is still hard. While we have been given a text, I see it as a jumping off point. Grateful to G-d for the wisdom to distinguish between night and day? You bet. Grateful for the crowing the rooster or the barking of a dog, maybe not so much. Grateful to be able to get out of bed, open my eyes, put on clothes and greet the new day. Sure. Grateful if I overdid my run the day before and everything hurts? Harder.

The challenge to noticing the little things that bring us joy is on the days when nothing seems to be right. There are some days that are like that. Days we spend hours on the phone with Blue Cross or Verizon. Those are days that can drive you crazy. They can be anger producing. Then it is hard to find joy in anything. Even the little things.

While customer support can be frustrating, angering, can I be grateful for the person on the other end of the phone who is truly trying to help? Can I be grateful to have people who are willing to go out of their way to help? Can I be grateful for the patience needed to resolve thorny issues? Can I be grateful for my husband who stuck with me through it?

And while customer support is frustrating, there are other events in life that are far worse. Can I be grateful when being given a cancer diagnosis? Can I be grateful if I lose a job? Can I be grateful if my partner chooses a different path or if my loved one dies?

People ask me if it is OK to be angry in Judaism. I tell them yes. You bet. Anger is OK in Judaism. Moses gets angry. G-d gets angry. The Psalmist gets angry. There is a place for anger. It helps to acknowledge those feelings too. Even to be grateful for anger.

Rabbi Chaim Stern, editor of Gates of Prayer, wrote this as a reading before Kaddish,

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.

It seems to me that is the challenge. To figure out how to sing when we want to scream. That process will eventually, maybe not today, bring us back to joy

Yesterday we read about the joy found playing music. I think part of that, as Arlyn suggests is in being part of a community. Whether you are playing in an orchestra, singing in a choir or jamming in a garage band, you are one part of a collective whole. Each part is necessary to make the music complete.

Sometimes music lifts our prayers, our words in ways that the words themselves cannot. Saturday night this week we begin the Selichot prayers, prayers for forgiveness unique to this season of atonement. The music elevates our thoughts. I particularly love hearing Kol Nidre on the cello without the words. Just the haunting, evocative music. It brings me to a different place. It is part of how I as a rabbi prepare.

Beged Kefet, a musical group of now rabbis and cantors using their voices for tzedakah, covered a Peter Paul and Mary song, Music Speaks Louder than Words on their original album. I still think it captures it.

Music speaks louder than words
It’s the only thing that the whole world listens to.
Music speaks louder than words,
When you sing, people understand.

Sometimes the love that you feel inside
Gets lost between your heart and your mind
And the words don’t really say the things you wanted them to.
But then you feel in someone’s song
What you’d been trying to say all along
And somehow with the magic of music the message comes through.

Music speaks louder than words
It’s the only thing that the whole world listens to.
Music speaks louder than words,
When you sing, people understand.

The longer I live the more I find that people seldom take the time
To really get to know a stranger and make him a friend.

What I forgot about Beged Kefet, is that they also recorded the setting of Adonai, Adonai, written by Leonard Sher, that took my breath away when I was driving to a sales call at IBM. I can tell you exactly where I was in Connecticut on Interstate 84 and where I had to pull off. That’s what I mean about the power of music. Here is a link to this setting. http://media2.urj.net/music/10-24-13Clip2.mp3

This week the Today Show asked viewers what is the most happy song. There is lots of music that makes us happy. “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” Pharell’s “Happy” Billboard has a list of “Happy Songs” http://www.billboard.com/articles/list/5915801/top-20-happy-songs-of-all-time While Adonai, Adonai, is not “happy music”, to me it is sublime. I think that is what brings me joy.

Today’s guest blogger is the Reverend Arlyn Tolzmann, a retired Lutheran pastor and a chaplain at Advocate Sherman Hospital. He is also the chair of the Board of Trustees of the Elgin Symphony Orchestra. His love of music comes naturally. He gifts us two of his poems expressing his joy in music:

Oopah

for some, ’tis quite enough
to sit back
observing and listening to
the overtures, mazurkas,
sonatas, and nocturnes
of life’s symphony.

For me,
much would I rather
jump into the movements,
immersed joyously
in crashing the cymbals,
bowing the strings,
thumping the tympani
and adding my own oompah.

Song within

within me rests a song
bass and treble
sharps and flats
all waiting
to burst the monotony
of rhythmed breath
and the heart’s cadence
to leap this cloistered hold
and proclaim
the greatness of the Lord
the notes are there
somewhere lingering deep within
and someday this song I’ll sing
’til then,
my life must be the song

Revered Arlyn Tolzmann

Yesterday we learned about the joys of hospitality. Today, the Joy of Cooking. One of the last articles my mother wrote was about the new version of the Joy of Cooking. The Joy and the Settlement Cookbooks were Bibles in our house. My mother loved to read cookbooks. And collect cookbooks. My parents even wrote a cookbook on the Farm Markets and Farm Stands of Michigan, “Celebrate the Harvest”. They were fascinated by the Fulton Street Farmers’ Market in Grand Rapids, long before farm-to-table was a thing.

My mother loved to cook. She says her mother wasn’t such a good cook and over salted everything so we under salted. “People can add if they want.” I remember my mother actually taking some classes with the Northwestern University Wives. One on French cooking and one on Indian cooking. I think she thought she was Julia Child, only less messy. There was the year we had Duck a la orange and tiny eclairs for some holiday and the cooking wasn’t done until midnight!

The Settlement Cookbook used to say on its cover “The Way to a Man’s Heart is Through His Stomach.” There does seem to be a connection between food and love. Or food and comfort. At times that is a good thing. Other times, like for those of us struggling to lose weight, learning about non-food rewards and channeling our emotional eating is necessary.

But I want to talk about the joy of cooking. Some see it as a chore. It fills me with joy. There is something that makes me happy when I am puttering in the kitchen. Even before, when I am shopping for the perfect ingredients. Corn from Kleins (the farm stand in Elgin, no relation). Cheese from the Harvest Market. My own fresh grown herbs. Fish from the fish market. Special vinegar from a favorite place in Ann Arbor. These will become a simple fish chowder and salad.

Chopping vegetables. Sautéing onions and garlic. Adding a pinch of salt. Stirring the pot (even writing that makes me chuckle). Tasting. Correcting. Tasting again. Setting a pretty, inviting table. Celebrating each holiday. Even the little ones. Each of these bring me joy.

It is an opportunity to slow down, just for a bit.

Soup simmering, bread baking, apple crisp on the counter. Each of these is evocative. Each of these is ready for sharing with family and friends. Each of these remind me of love. To love. Each of these brings me joy.

Maybe this poem of mine captures it better.

The flavor of love

A pot of carefully prepared fish chowder
Fresh from the farm corn
Seasoned with cracked pepper, sea salt, thyme
Sprinkled with scallions
Bulbs still glistening with dew
Tomatoes bursting with flavor
Kalamata olives and mozzarella cheese
Dripping with extra virgin olive oil and
18 year old balsamic vinegar with hint of honey
A glass of chilled Riesling
The rumble of thunder
Hold me close as I tell you
I love you.

Our next guest blogger is Rabbi Evan Moffic. He is the rabbi at Congregation Solel in Highland Park and the husband of Rabbi Ari Moffic. He writes extensively. His most recent book is “What Every Christian Needs to Know About the Jewishness of Jesus,” which First Presbyterian Church in Elgin is currently studying. They would welcome more participants.

He recently wrote for Beliefnet on the Happiness of Hospitality. I reprint it here with permission:

The greatest teachers of the Bible did not tell stories. They did not simply proclaim laws.

They lived what they taught. They also invited others into it.

Think of people from whom you learned. Did they just say things? Or did they live them? The most important things are not always taught. They are caught. One of those values is hospitality.

Hospitality as a Way of Life

In Hebrew, the language of the Bible, hospitality is known as Hachnasat Orchim. The phrase means “welcoming guests.” This translation does not, however, do justice to the force of the Hebrew words themselves.

Welcoming guests is not just a nice thing to do. It is not simply a display of good manners. It is not even something we do because we want to be good role models for our children or our community.

Hospitality is a way of life. And it is that brings happiness and joy.

How to Make Your Home Welcoming

In the middle ages Jewish practice was to build a door on all four sides of one’s house so that a guest would have no hassle coming in.

image: http://www.beliefnet.com/columnists/truthsyoucanuse/files/2016/09/house-150×150.jpg

This custom suggests that our concern in maintaining our home should be not be the decor inside. It is not the landscaping or architecture of the home. Our concern is that we not make it too difficult for people to visit.

Front-Porch People

That custom seems out of place today.  Today, as cultural anthropologists have pointed out, we tend to spend our time in the backyard rather than front porch.

The backyard is more private, and is frequently fenced in. It does not lend itself to the casual conversation and openness of the front porch.

The Bible, however, tells us be a“front-porch people.” Rather than not turn our home into a fortress, we can turn it into an oasis, a place of conversation and kindness.

Ultimately, hospitality creates community. It builds empathy. It opens up our lives and creates the enduring that lead to happiness and satisfaction.

How Do You Practice Hospitality in Your Life? 
Read more at http://www.beliefnet.com/columnists/truthsyoucanuse/2016/09/surest-path-happiness.html#j5PKl76hUSVLvJEB.99

I love to teach. I guess that is a good thing, since I am a rabbi and rabbi means teacher. While that is true, it doesn’t quite get to the heart of it. I love watching students “get it.” The look of delight on their eyes when they solve a puzzle, that’s what brings me joy.

The Hebrew for learn is lilmod. The Hebrew to teach is l’lamed. They are related words, with the same root. Lamed-Mem-Dalet. Because basically they are the flip of the same coin. In one of our prayers, Ahavah Rabbah we actually use both roots.

Ham’racheim, racheim aleinu,
v’tein b’libeinu l’havin ul’haskil, lishmo-a,
lilmod ul’lameid…

O Merciful One, have mercy on us
by making us able to understand and discern, to heed,
learn, and teach…

This is a prayer that tells us that G-d loves us like a parent because G-d gave us the Torah, a system of rules, just like parents set limits on kids. G-d taught us the Torah and so we learn it and then teach it to our children and grandchildren, to our students.

I remember learning how to be a swimming teacher. Standing on that dock learning how to break down the crawl stroke into manageable bits, component parts. Practicing, practicing, practicing under the hot, summer sun. First on land, then in the water. Teaching each other rhythmic breathing. Then teaching the kids. But when those kids got it, it was magical!

Good teaching requires patience, knowledge and good humor. It requires meeting each student where they are. It requires listening.

Recently I asked some students a question I didn’t know the answer to. During the High Holidays we chant the 13 Attributes of the Divine. Over and over again. This was my Bat Mitzvah portion. The reason I became a rabbi. The portion I wrote a thesis and then a book about. But I had never thought about this question. Why do we chant it three times in front of the open ark?

This is what the kids told us: We want G-d to pay attention. We are begging G-d. Three times means it is more important. For emphasis. There are three different types of sin. Three is a magic, lucky number. We get closer to G-d like when we rise up three times on our toes for Kedusha or take three steps forward before the Amidah.

The rabbis of the Talmud had it right. “R. Chanina said, “I have learned much from my teachers, more from my colleagues, and the most from my students” (Ta’anis 7a).

It was a WOW moment. And it brought me joy.