We just heard another story of how there is a time for everything. Gareth, on a very poignant day for you and your family your told about your own personal time to mourn. It was my honor to be called by Gareth last year on the second morning of Rosh Hashanah just as the dawn was breaking to join her and Paul and their son James. It was my first hospital visit since COVID began. Somehow, Sherman Hospital let me in. I sang B’yado as I often do at someone’s bedside, as I learned from my rabbi at my own mother’s bedside.
Sing here.
“Into Your hands I place my spirit. When I wake as when I sleep, I will have no fear for You are with me.”
And then I drove home, to rethink my sermon on how even if we are alone, we are not alone.
And so Gareth, we, your CKI community continue to mourn with you. We miss Paul’s deep resonate voice. We miss his steady calming presence. He was one of our rocks too and he was so supportive of you and of CKI.
Earlier today we read Psalm 30, the dedication of the temple, the sanctuary. We use it as part of our daily service and we use it to dedicate a home when we place a mezuzah up and turn even our houses into sacred spaces. I had the honor of doing that with several families this year. The Garlands most recently and Robin Coyne. BTW, who moves during a pandemic?
Toward the end of the psalm it says, “You have turned my mourning into dancing, my sackcloth into robes of joy. Tears may linger for the night but joy comes with the dawn.”
There is a time for everything, a time to mourn and a time to rejoice. It can be hard to make that pivot. And while Kubler Ross had the right idea, that there are stages of grief, grief is not linear. Perhaps Rabbi David Paskin had it better. He wrote a song called HaMakom. He wondered why our greeting after someone dies is Hamakom yinachem etchem….May The place, HaMakom comfort you amongst all the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem and all the world, why not the Holy One, the Comforter? He argues that when lose a loved one all we have is a space, a big old empty space. We need to learn with that space, that emptiness, to go into it and go out of it.
“May the One who fills our space, give us hope and give us strength.”
Each of us has our own story of grief. Those stories get woven into here we are. Sharing those stories can make us feel vulnerable. However, that is how we become wholehearted. According to Brene Brown, “When we own our stories, we avoid being trapped as characters in stories someone else is telling…when we decide to own our stories and our truth, we bring our light to the darkness.” So Jordana and Matt, Jeannete and Chris, and Gareth, you have chosen courage over comfort, and vulnerability over safety. You have told your stories powerfully. Your CKI community thanks you.
Today’s Torah portion, like yesterday’s tells the story of unspeakable grief. Hagar’s, Sarah’s and Hannah’s. We talked yesterday of Hagar’s desperation when she put her child Ishmael under a bush, sure that he would die. In today’s portion, Sarah is not even consulted when the child she had waited for, hoped for, prayed for was taken by Abraham up the mountain to be sacrificed to G-d. And even though Isaac didn’t die, her grief was so intense, the very next chapter, called Chayeii Sarah, the Life of Sarah, begins, “There are the years of the life of Sarah. Sarah was one hundred years and twenty years and seven years, and Sarah died.” That’s it.
We learn a lot about Jewish mourning customs from the next part of the chapter. Abraham comes, they weren’t even in the same town when she died, he acquires a burial plot and pays for it, he did not accept it as a gift, and he eulogizes Sarah with according to the midrash, Eishet Chayil, a Woman of Valor.
This has been a year for many of unspeakable grief and for many the longstanding comforting mourning customs were not options. Empty cemeteries. Live streamed funerals. Zoom shivas. Rescheduled memorial services.. And yet, every time, the community, this community, our community, rose to the challenges of supporting you as best we could. It wasn’t easy.
Another story that is woven into who we are is 9/11. Everybody knows where they were when the towers fell. Almost. None of our Torah School students were alive yet. What stories do we tell them? We observe the 20 anniversary this week. Here at CKI we will mark it Friday night when we honor our first responders. Please join us for that special evening.
After 9/11, most rabbis in the country rewrote their carefully crafted sermons. Mine focused on this very topic. After Hagar cries out, G-d hears the cry of the lad, and opens Hagar’s eyes. She sees the water that was there all along. She found another way.
That’s resilience.
There has been much written about resilience. Some say that we can’t teach it. Others say that resilience comes from being loved, being secure, being in community.
The American Psychology Society says, that “Being resilient doesn’t mean that a person won’t experience difficulty or distress. People who have suffered major adversity or trauma in their lives commonly experience emotional pain and stress. In fact, the road to resilience is likely to involve considerable emotional distress.” https://www.apa.org/topics/resilience
Surviving a global pandemic leads to resilience. We are already telling the stories.
But it is not enough to be survive. Our machzor actually says “Merely to survive is not a measure of excellence or even a measure of cunning.” We need to thrive. Maya Angelou’s spin on that was, “My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style”
So how do we build resilience. Like much in Judaism there isn’t just one answer. It used to be thought that it can’t be taught. But good news, the newer research says it can.
It’s like building a muscle. Maybe that’s why I like running so much. It takes time and intentionality, a kavanah if you will. It means we need to focus on four core components. No not your quads and your abs. It is about connection, wellness, healthy thinking and meaning, at least according to the APA.
Step One: Kids find resiliency when they have at least one deep relationship with a parent, a teacher, a mentor or a coach. That goes for adults too. Knowing that you are not alone and that someone believes in you. That you are loved. Connecting with empathetic and understanding people reminds you that you are not alone. That’s why Zoom has been so important. One of the issues through this pandemic is that the people who need help the most may isolate themselves and lose the support of the people around them. Joining a group—in person or online can be great. Torah Study, mahjohng, book group. Something that isn’t even CKI related. A cooking class, a foreign language, something at our library. Whatever you are interested in. I love my running community. (Detect a theme here?)
Step Two: Take care of your body. Risa is fond of saying that each of us should do 5 things every day. It’s a check list. Eat, drink (water, in case you were wondering although she might say a little bourbon at the right time), exercise, take your medication and sleep. Self care is important. Put your oxygen mask on first. Having a buddy to check up on you helps. That’s why we are often told to check on our neighbors when it is very hot or very cold.
Step Three: Practice mindfulness. You being here today, praying, reflecting, deep breathing, meditating is part of that. We’ll have the opportunity to try here shortly. It is why Weight Watchers has four parts to their program. Food, Activity, Sleep and Mindset. It helps us to avoid negative thinking and to find purpose.
Step Four: Set some goals. Make sure they are realistic. You are not going to learn violin or to speak Spanish (or Hebrew!) overnight. Look for opportunities for self-discovery. When people find meaning from their tragedies and traumas, people have reported better relationships and a greater sense of strength, even while feeling vulnerable. Victor Frankl spent his life’s work after surviving Auschwitz helping people find meaning and purpose. This summer the book group read The Choice, Embrace the Possible by Eva Edith Eger, another Holocaust survivor who studied with Frankl. Great book.
And one last step:
Maintain a hopeful outlook. It is hard to be positive when life isn’t going your way. It is hard to accept that change is part of life. But when the Israelites saw that the Temple was destroyed, they reinvented Judaism. Atonement was not to be achieved in centralized worship in Jerusalem but through prayer and study, and deeds of lovingkindness.
We are at one of those moments in history, when the sands of time seem to be shifting. The very earth under our feet is moving. We can still find hope. We can still find a way to go into our grief, that very place that hurts so much, and back out. Together. We are not alone.
Rabbi Paul Kipnes, who coincidentally grew up in Chelmsford. His family was one of the founders of Congregation Shalom where I did my rabbinic internship. He wrote Jewish Spiritual Parenting together with his wife which our Torah School parents have read. He has been instrumental in my own thinking this High Holy Day preparation. Together with Rabbi Julia Atlas Weiz and their Facebook friends they wrote a guided meditation I want us to try today. We’ll use another piece of his before Hineini.
Guided Meditation: I Know I’m Not Alone
By Rabbi Paul Kipnes, Rabbi Julia Atlas Weisz
and our Facebook Friends
Let’s take a moment
And turn inward.
And enjoy a few moments
Of guided meditation.
Sit up as straight as your body allows.
Close your book,
And close your eyes.
Relax your hands,
placing them on your lap
Or put your fingertips together
and feel the balance of pressure.
And now
Just Breathe.
Take big breath in
Hold it
Let it out.
Again
Breathe in
Hold it.
Let it out.
Keep breathing.
Keep listening.
Rabbi Rachel Barenblat writes:
Here’s the thing:
the year begins anew
even in the worst of times.
The leaves will turn and fall
and then they’ll grow again.
And sometimes we’re afraid,
and we can’t know what choice to make
to keep anyone safe.
[Sometimes] Uncertainty’s a bear.
All we can do
is seek out sweetness everywhere we may
and work to fix what brokenness we find.
The good news is we’re not in this alone.
We’ll help each other hope
when light seems dim and
we’ll lift the sparks that darker days reveal.
We’ll love each other fiercely:
in the end
there is no greater work that we can do.
We who survive will help each other [through].
That’s what Kehillah Kedosha,
A holy community like ours,
Does.
We remind each other, that:
In the quiet of your mind,
Not aloud,
Repeat after me:
I know
[Pause]
I’m not
[Pause]
Alone
[Pause]
Again, silently, in your mind, repeat:
I know I’m not alone.
[Pause]
When I’m frustrated that our celebrations must be different, smaller, rescheduled or postponed,
[say it in your mind with me] …I know I’m not alone.
When I worry about my children going back to school
[Say it:] I know I’m not alone.
When I fear for my parents or for myself who now need a booster
I know I’m not alone.
When I feel overwhelmed by even simple decisions, like what to make for dinner or how dressed up to get
I know I’m not alone.
When I am exhausted by so many changes and transitions, both good or bad
I know I’m not alone.
When the weight of the world is getting me down
I know I’m not alone.
When I’m so exhausted because there’s so much to do
I know I’m not alone.
When I connect regularly to faraway family and friends on facetime or zoom, even though I’m not seeing them face to face
I know I’m not alone.
When I cannot figure out if this cold requires a covid test
I know I’m not alone.
When struggling to make time to take care of myself, whatever that means
I know I’m not alone.
You are not alone.
We are all in this together.
Remember:
Not being alone
Doesn’t mean it isn’t frustrating and overwhelming
Or worrisome and scary.
It just means we are not alone.
So feel that connection,
Take strength from the community
And remember the lessons of the shofar.
The sounds of the shofar
Parallel our experience.
What once was whole – tekiah
Became broken – shevarim
And sometimes shatters – teruah
But ultimately, it returns to wholeness – tekiah.
We are about to again sound the shofar
Hear the call of the Holy One
Sending you strength, and hope, and resilience.
Calling to us
to tell us
That…
No, I am not alone.
We are not alone.
We can get through this
Together.
Paul Sitz was not the only one we lost this year. We also lost Dan Knopoff. For every medical procedure, he sang the Craig Taubman B’yado. We sang it right here, the first Friday night we were back in the building in his honor.
Whatever we face this coming year, I will not fear. You are with me. We are not alone. We are together. Wholehearted.