The Imperfect Etrog
Every year I go searching
For just the perfect etrog
Yellow, but not too green
Round, but elongated
Bumpy, but not too bumpy
And that perfect, fresh lemony smell
With an intact pitom.
I know it when I see it.
This year I opened the box.
Inside the box, wrapped in its protective cushioning
This golden etrog
Missing its pitom
I opened the next, and the next, and the next.
Not a whole etrog in the shipment.
Not a kosher etrog in the box.
Not whole. Not complete. Not perfect
And yet, as we take the lulav, straight as spine
Together with the eyes of myrtle, silently seeing all
And the lips of willow, speaking sweetly words of truth
This etrog, the heart, is not perfect
Is not complete
Is not full
A symbol
Come to teach
None of us is perfect
None of us is complete
None of us is full
And it is good enough.
It is beautiful.
Copyright 2018, MJFK
Sukkot, zeman simchateinu, the time of our joy, has not always been so for me. I have spent years trying to claim the joy that is Sukkot. The gratitude for the harvest. The hope for peace. All the while knowing how fragile that peace can be. “Ufros Aleinu Sukkat Shlomecha. Spread over us the shelter, the Sukkah of Your peace,” I pray.
It is aspirational.
Every year I go looking for events, often I create events that will make me feel peaceful, that will make me feel safe. Every year I put up a sukkah. So that I can sit on my porch, and none will make me afraid.
You see, once, a long time ago, on the full moon night of Sukkot, I was a victim, a survivor of sexual assault. It is not new for me to talk about this. I have frequently. I have served on rape and domestic violence hotlines. I have represented the Jewish community on committees, currently the Faith Committee of the 16th Circuit Court Steering Committee on Family Violence. There is even a film of me telling my story for Mayyim Hayyim.
And I know, that there is a cost to telling the story. Every single time. But I know that there is a power in my story. And in speaking it. I know that I am a role model of survival, for survivors.
This year is no exception. As I go looking for those things that bring peace in this oh so fragile world.
So to any survivor out there, I say to you, as I have said before. I hear you. I believe you. You are not alone. If you need a shoulder to cry on, or a cup of coffee, or a hug, I am here. Hineini.
Here are the things I did this year. I helped plan and participate in Elgin City of Peace Peace Feast. I made lemon squares as part of my ethnic foods and for Sukkot and I took them and my lulav and etrog and the story of the Hebrew Brothers and talked about Jerusalem, Yerushalayim, City of Shalom, Peace. Do you know where that story comes from? Most will say the midrash. Some will cite Louis Ginsberg’s Legends of the Jews. But if you dig down in the footnotes, you will learn that Ginsburg and others learned it first in the Arab market of Jerusalem. It really is a story of peace for the city of peace.
Then we hosted our Lutheran pastor, his wife and the person who has done most of the tending of the community garden for dessert in the sukkah and more decorating. Lemon squares, perfectly decorated, beautiful fall cookies and ice cream. The conversations went on easily until 10:30!
Then I visited my congressional office to tell my story of sexual assault. It was important to me to tell this story (again!) during Sukkot, since the attack happened during Sukkot. This year especially. Then I supported friends who organized a local rally as part of the national walk out. I wore black to both and brought my lulav and etrog to share a blessing of peace. I wrote letters to my elected officials, explaining my story and Sukkot. That felt empowering. Esther—speaking truth to power.
That night we again ate in the sukkah, this time with the under 36 crowd. Illuminating discussion about maternity benefits. And how long people have to wait. Oy! So much work still to be done.
On the 4th night, I had “Pizza in the Hut” and made silly faces with the Torah School kids. We made a “rain storm” with our hands and we planted winter rye for the omer crop. It was good to just be. And to rejoice in Sukkot.
On Thursday I met with our local Habitat for Humanity volunteer coordinators. There is something important about talking about affordable housing during Sukkot when we dwell in temporary, impermanent shelters. The
Later we will have dinner in the sukkah with another rabbinic couple and over dessert we will study. Pirke Avot through a social justice lens, written by my friend Rabbi Shmuly Yankovitch. Pirke Avot teaches, “Ours is not to finish the task, neither are we free to ignore it.” This was a week where I could have hid, under the covers. But no, there is too much work to do and the time was now.
In between, as time permitted, I wrote. And I wrote and I wrote. It is part of how I cope. So two poems popped up. I have been working on a book for Jewish women healing from domestic violence or sexual assault. I have been working on it for years. The time is now to finish it.
It wasn’t quite the week I planned but it did celebrate Sukkot, and its hope for peace.
It is quiet in the house now. I am home alone.The dog is resting. The sukkah is lit and ready for company. The apple crisp is baking in the oven, filling the house with fall fragrance. Shalom bayit. Peace of the house. Shalom. Peace.
The Sukkot Moon
The moon is full tonight
Just like it was
Peaking out
Between the clouds
A silent presence
A silent reminder
People ask
Where was G-d?
Perhaps, like a ner tamid
An Eternal Light
The moon is a reminder
Of G-d’s ever present Presence
Sometimes we can see it.
Sometimes we can feel it.
Sometimes we cannot.
But it there.
Filling the world
With hope
With healing
I smiled.
Copyright 2018