Our next guest blogger, John Dalton, is one of the circuit judges in the 15^th Circuit Court in Illinois. He is bright, witty, passionate and committed to making the world a better place. He finds time to mentor and to sponsor confirmation students at his church. He relaxes with a good cigar and wonderful parties at this home. Here are his words:

I don’t know that I can define happiness or explain what is necessary or sufficient for its creation and maintenance for anyone other than myself.

I am an optimist by nature, value human relationships above all else and believe in the inherent goodness of most others. Accordingly, after one’s most basic needs are met (food, clothing, shelter), I believe it should generally be easy to find happiness.

I believe we all have the choice, from moment to moment, day by day, to choose to be happy. I simply cannot comprehend choosing another mental state when happiness is an option.

When confronted by setbacks or obstacles we can consider it merely an invigorating challenge. When limited by illness or or other conditions, we can focus on our remaining abilities or future prognosis.

I have worked hard to meet my goals, often for years at a time. I’ve struggled. I’ve lost. But I don’t think I’ve ever felt sorry for myself or depressed for more than a day or two. More than that seems like a self indulgent waste of time to me, and I abhor waste.

I suspect many would view this as too simplistic to be useful to them in their lives, but on any given day, this philosophy has allowed me to enjoy each day as it came, reasonably content and counting my blessings whilst continuing to strive for my remaining unmet objectives with confidence they could eventually be achieved.

I hope you and your congregation enjoy a meaningful and happy celebration of the high holidays, and that all among you find peace, joy and contentment today and every day.

John G Dalton
Circuit Court Judge

This weekend our congregation celebrates the wedding of one of our members. A former president, she has worked tirelessly on behalf of the congregation. When I arrived in Elgin, her first husband was not doing well. He died on the first night of Chanukah, surrounded by friends and family.

But this weekend is for joy. And love. And romance. Smiles, laughter, maybe even giggles.

When we started this project we learned that there are many words for joy. Simcha, Osher, Ora, Gila, Rina, Ditza, Sasson, Tzahala, Chedva.

There are seven marriage blessings. The last one contains most of these words.

Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech Ha-Olam, asher barah sasson v’simcha, chatan v’kalah, gila rina, ditza v’chedva, ahava v’achava, v’shalom v’re’ut. Me-hera Adonai Eloheinu yishama b’arei yehudah u’vchutzot yerushalayim, kol sasson v’eKol simcha, kol chatan v’ekol kalah, kol mitzhalot chatanim me-chupatam, u’nearim mimishte neginatam. Baruch Atah Adonai mesame’ach chatan im hakalah.

Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, Ruler of the universe, Who created joy and gladness, loving couples, mirth, glad song, pleasure, delight, love, loving communities, peace, and companionship. Adonai, our God, let there soon be heard in the cities of Judah and the streets of Jerusalem the sound of joy and the sound of gladness, the voice of the loving couple, the sound of the their jubilance from their canopies and of the youths from their song-filled feasts. Blessed are You Who causes the couple to rejoice, one with the other.

After this, the groom will smash a glass and the congregation will shout “Mazel tov.” There are many interpretations of why the glass is broken. The most traditional is because of the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. What I like to say is that at our most happy, joyous times there is still a little bit of brokenness, still a little bit of sadness missing those who came before. I am delighted that this bride has found this groom. I am thrilled they have each found happiness and joy in new love. I suspect there will not be a dry eye in the house.

I own multiple copies of Anita Diamant’s book, the New Jewish Wedding. In multiple editions. I love some of the poetry in the back, much of which is written by my Hebrew professor at Tufts, Joel Rosenberg. If you are planning a wedding, look at it.

But tonight, I offer this, as we begin to light our Shabbat candles.

From Rabbi Naomi Levy’s book, Talking to G-d

“The great rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov once said that from every human being there rises a light that reaches straight to heaven. And when two souls that are destined to be together find each other, their streams of light flow together in a single, even brighter light that illuminates the heavens.

The marriage ceremony is the moment when two separate people unite to create one family, one future, one light.”

That is the joy and light, the simcha and ora of the wedding! It is like the two separate candles at the beginning of Shabbat, coming together as the braided candle of havadalah, when we sing from the Book of Esther, as part of havdalah, “Layehudim haita ora vesimha vesason vikar ken tihiye lanu. Grant us the blessings of light, of gladness and of honor which the miracle of deliverance brought to our ancestors.”

May this be that Shabbat. Of Light and Joy, Ora v’simcha! Mazel tov!

Yesterday’s post by Danielle Henson shared her joy, her passion for learning, reading and community engagement. But she didn’t talk much about the quiet joy, maybe contentment is a better word, of curling up with a book and reading.

I love to sit on my deck with a glass of ice tea or a cold hard cider in the summer, reading a book. Or a trip to the beach with a novel, perhaps a new Faye Kellerman mystery or a new Judy Blume or Anita Diamant book, preferably about the beach.

I love rereading Anne Morrow Lindberg’s A Gift From the Sea. Or Harold Kushner’s How Good Do We Have To Be?

I love falling asleep over a good book, totally relaxed. Or staying up late when the house is perfectly quiet to finish a book I just can’t put down. Or stretching out a book that I just don’t want to end.

I love going to book stores (hey, my parents owned one and then my mother worked at Borders!) and libraries. I love book groups. Sitting around discussing books. Learning from others. Reading things I wouldn’t ordinarily select myself. Laughing. Crying. Creating community.

Reading takes me to new places. It expands me world. It expands my thinking. It allows me to dream. It allows me to escape, just for a time. It reduces stress. I learn new things.

Reading brings me joy.

Think I am alone? Here’s an article I found on the benefits of reading.

http://www.lifehack.org/articles/lifestyle/10-benefits-reading-why-you-should-read-everyday.html

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.”