Miryam's Space

Change is hard, even change for the better. The saga of Abraham and Sarah is one of metamorphosis. One of the most metamorphic events in my life was the one that made me “mommy”. That was hard: oy! labor and delivery! G8d was in the room that day as I looked into my newborn’s surprisingly big eyes, and was moved to a pact of love.  I did not know what lay in store for us, and I knew the road ahead was fraught with danger, she was so vulnerable, and I so inadequate. But ahead we went to the life that would unfold. Ironically it is barrenness that besets Abram and Sarai,  (for those are their tadpole names) and perhaps catalyzes the start of their journey to change. Abram and Sarai leave wealth, comfort, familiarity to the call Lech L’chah, and L’chi Lach to become the mavericks they must be.  To leave: father’s home, birthplace and homeland.  But if G8d is everywhere, why a new place?…

A story of the seer of Lublin, who would one day become a great teacher. As a boy he was in the habit of going to the woods for hours at a time. So one day his father asked him why he went. “I am going to find God” replied the boy. Said the father: “My son, that’s beautiful, but don’t you know God is the same everywhere?”  “Yes,” said the boy, “but I’m not.”  So Abram and Sarai must go to a place they can find God.

A folktale from our tradition, adapted from Penninah Schram’s Stories One Generation Tells Another, is an fascinating parallel to this Torah tale.    Once in a small town in Eastern Europe lived a couple who had almost everything.  Abram and Sarah were wealthy, generous and wise. Everywhere they gave tzedakah, assisting the poor in their town, generous to a fault. And yet they could not conceive children. Sarah went to the Rabbi to ask what could be done. Listen and do just as I say. You shall host a feast for all the hungry of the town, and set the least of your guests at the head of the table. So, as the Rabbi had instructed they prepared a fabulous feast for the poor of the town. While serving, a ragged man approached Abram and asked to be seated at the head of the table. Disgusted at the beggars filth Abram rebuffed him, and showed him to a crowded table with others like him. The beggar insisted Take me to your wife, I have an important message. When he was brought to Sarah he informed her You did not follow the Rabbi’s directions! Because you have offered food, you shall conceive, but the child you bear will be in the form of a snake! Sarah realized then that the beggar was none other than Elijah, and wept at her fate. Abram comforted her saying Do not worry, this will be our child, and we will take care of him. And Sarah was comforted. Indeed when her time to give birth arrived, a snake was born to Sarah. The midwife cried in fear and ran. But the snake/child was always kind and they cared for him, taught him and brought him up as their own. When the snake/child reached the age of 13 years, he asked  for a tallit and kippah, and for his turn to teach at the synagogue. After consulting with the Rabbi, the couple relented, though some fled from the synagogue. After this day, the snake would often disappear into the woods for hours at a time, and the couple trembled in fear for his safety, for they loved their child, but he always returned.  One day the snake/child approached his father saying Father, I am of age, and it is time to arrange a shiddach so I may enter into marriage. Abram was beside himself! But he went to the Rabbi, who said: Listen and do exactly as I say: travel to the neighboring town, and there find the house of the poorest hermit who lives in the wood. Ask to be his guest for Shabbat. Though strange things may pass, ask no questions. So, the couple traveled, and when they asked, townspeople directed them to a poor hovel outside of the town. A poor, bedraggled hermit answered the knock on the door. Please, sir, may we spend Shabbat with you? When the hermit replied that he had no food to share, and no beds for guests the couple responded Do not worry, we will sleep on the floor, and we will buy enough food for us all to share. And so the hermit agreed, and prepared a Sabbath meal. The couple noticed that the hermit prepared eight meals for the evening, set three on the table and brought five into a back room. But, heeding the instruction of the Rabbi, they asked no questions. The same odd pattern repeated during the morning and afternoon meals, with five meals brought to the back room. Unable to control their curiosity any more Abram exclaimed: Tell us, to whom are you bringing these meals? They insisted in spite of the hermits hesitation, until he admitted: I have five daughters but all are in rags, for I cannot afford clothes for them. Abram and Sarah were delighted: Bring them out, we will buy clothes for them all!  And as the daughters came out, each beautiful maiden was asked if they would agree to marry the couple’s son. The four oldest declined, but the youngest agreed, so desperate was she to escape her poverty. Nervously, they brought the maiden home, afraid she’d change her mind upon seeing their son. While she waited in the couple’s home, a snake slithered into her room, and before she had a chance to be surprised, he shed his skin and transformed into a handsome young man, saying Do not be afraid, and tell no one of my words, but know that everything will work out fine if you agree to be my bride. The young woman agreed, and so the wedding date was set. Nervously the couple arranged for the ceremony and celebration, and were delighted to see not a snake but a human son wearing the talit they had given him under the wedding canopy. Hugging their son, he explained: After you gave me the talit, I would go each day into the woods to study with Elijah the prophet, I have learned so much! And the couple lived happily for the rest of their days.

The saga of Abram and Sarai in Torah is one of enslavement to old ways, and of change: they first leave their home, to travel to the place that God will show them. Though they physically move, still they are  in old patterns, lacking faith that God is with them and that their future will be secure. Slavery is foretold in Abram’s vision, and echoed in Sarai’s slave Hagar, and in Sarai’s capture by Pharoah. But the brit, covenant, of circumcision accompanies a new name, a metamorphosis of spirit perhaps of Abraham and Sarah, and finally a son, named for laughter, Yitschak, is born – and yet another metamorphosis. But we, and are children are born all instinct and animal, like the snake/son. Though birth is a transformation, we must journey more to find our true selves, to reveal the mentsch (good human) behind the animal. Lech L’chah literally means go for yourself, Lechi Lach , the feminine form, means go TO yourself. Could it be that the real purpose of the journeys and the metamorphosis is to uncover our authentic self – so the snake can shed its skin to reveal the person hiding within?!

We all need a catalyst for even the most favorable change is hard, getting started is the hardest thing. Routine breeds routine, and we become enslaved in old ways. In the excerpt of Leah Goldberg’s poem below, a prayer for openness to learning. Perhaps this openness, and learning is what’s needed for change But why does the poet pray for renewal of God’s days, not our human days? That must be our job: to learn and be open to change.

Teach me oh God a blessing, a prayer, on the mystery of a withered leaf,  On ripened fruit so fair, on the freedom to see, to sense, to breathe, to know,… to hope, ….to despair…Teach my lips a blessing, a hymn of praise, as each morning and night You renew Your days, lest my day be as the one before, lest routine set my ways            Leah Goldberg

Rainbows are amazing things.  A scattering of light, a blast of joy and color. What’s great about rainbows is they reveal what was always there – because white light contains all those wavelengths, hidden, waiting to come out. All you need’s a prism – something that touches the light at a good angle, with the power to uncover the beauty within. The same phenomenon can work with our soul’s light, and those inspirations in our life can touch us as a prism does. We all have that beauty as potential, after all we are b’tzelem Elohim -in God’s image. The trick is to open up enough to be changed. Maybe by music, or love, an event, a natural wonder…to be touched, to be liberated. And the rainbow’s impact is so much more powerful if it’s been dark for awhile. The other trick is to look for rainbows hidden in what’s around us.

In Parashat Noach, the world is drowning in darkness: the thoughts of people’s hearts are evil all the long day. A world of slaughter. It is out of this darkness that Noach sees rainbows, perhaps first in the eyes of his wife Na-amah, or his sons. In Greek myth Iris is the goddess of rainbows, also a messenger goddess. Iris: we name the uniquely colorful part of our eye for her – there are rainbows in our eyes, because that spark, b’tzelem Elohim is there. Iris is a messenger: malach, in Hebrew which is also Angel. So maybe it’s the messengers of our lives that can be our prism.
The rainbow becomes the sign of the Promise, the covenant, eternal hope in the sparkle of the sky, the sparkle in our eyes. Look for the Rainbow – it’s there, just hidden.

Debbie Friedman z”l wrote the Rainbow Covenant song, a melody I still use when I see a rainbow.

What’s in a rainbow that makes it so magical, linking the present with promises of old?

Eyes seeking color, hearts stretching far beyond the heavens,

Dreams not forgotten, memories of unfold

Where there’s a rainbow, we thank the Holy One, thinking of promises made long ago.

So when we thank you and think of your miracles, we know that the rainbow’s a promise we make too.

Baruch Atah Adonai Elohenu, melech ha-olam, zocher ha-brit, v’neeman b’vrito, v’kayam b’ma-amaro

(Adonai our God, Source of our blessings, Ruler of the Universe, you remember and are faithful to the B’rit, and the eternal promise to creation.)

I know I have to uphold my part of this sacred covenant, to do what I can, that life endures, by caring, loving, protecting,  My soul’s rainbow binds me powerfully to this promise. ..and God, please bless the prisms! and one more thing:

If Noah hadn’t saved all those animals on the teva, Kermit could never have sung that classic song: Why are there so many songs about rainbows and what’s on the other side? Rainbows are visions but only illusions, and rainbows have nothing to hide…. what’s so amazing that keeps us stargazing, and what do we think we might see? Someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection, the lovers, the dreamers and me. All of us under its spell, we know that it’s probably magic! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jSFLZ-MzIhM

Baruch She-amar v’haya ha-olam God spoke, and the world existed. (morning liturgy)

“B’reishit bara Elohim et hashamayim v’et ha’aretz” (Genesis 1:1) With beginnings God created the heavens and the earth.

So after all the celebrations, we begin again with Creation. And God said, Let there be light! and there was light… it was good!   What a powerful, puzzling statement: with words begins the universe? How is that even possible, and what language could that be – so powerfully creative?
Five possibilities in this post.

First possibility: the words are mathematics: e=mc²or f=ma or pv=nrt…. the language of the universe’s physical laws, upon which so many things stem. These are laws of relationship, how one part of the universe is connected to another. For example according to e=mc² matter is actually energy, congealed, related somehow to the speed of light, (which is also, somehow, a cosmic speed limit). Relationships are also part of the essence of Torah: linking you and me to the universe, and to  God, it’s creative power, linking  human beings to the natural world, linking family members, friends, enemies, nations. Math and Torah: both exist in relationships, the spaces in between, it’s where creation happens.

Second possibility: Could the language of God be Hebrew letters? R. Douglas Goldhammer, Skokie Ill, wrote a wonderful Kabbalistic vision of the language of God this week in Ten Minutes of Torah http://urj.org/learning/torah/ he writes: …imagine God sitting in front of a cosmic typewriter, punching the keys of the different letters of the Hebrew alphabet and watching the world come into being. God punched in the word adamah and the earth was formed. When the earth was formed, it was made up not only of molecules, atoms, and quarks, but also of the Hebrew letters that make up the word adamah. The ground, or the earth, was made up of infinitely small alefs, dalets, mems, and heis. Remove these constituent letters and everything comes tumbling down….. Each one of these Hebrew letters has a different cosmic energy force that God used to create the earth and its moveable parts. Poetry or anthropomorphism? and why Hebrew? AH, why indeed! Hebrew letters are also numbers, as all fans of gematria know. (Gematria takes the numerical value of words, and finds deep insights connecting these numbers to the concepts of the word) Each word has a numerical as well as symbolic and aural meaning. What better language than Hebrew to have the power of creation: the symbolism of ideas, the sounds of our hearts, and the mathematics all rolled into one language! Pure poetry, and creatively powerful. And upon what parchment is this language written? We know now that space is not empty, that the lowest energy state of space is a Higgs field, which gives photons mass as they interact with the field, zooming around at the speed of light! Perhaps it is upon this creative background on which God “typed” instructions!

Third possibility: maybe the language of God is light itself, or life itself.  An excerpt from Beth Schafer’s The Word bethschafer.com

When all was dark and there was nothing
From out of the darkness there was the word
And when all was still on the verge of creation
From out of the stillness there came the word
Chorus
   You are The Word, the first and the last
    Baruch she’amar v’haya ha’olam
    You are The Word, through Your lips life would pass
    Baruch she’amar v’haya ha’olam
A word to set the world in motion
A word to bring on the light
Let all hear with awe and devotion
That the language of God is life, is life

When it is dark and I can’t find my being
I reach in the darkness for Your word
And when I am still on the verge of creation
I search in my stillness for the right word…

As a composer, Beth  sings well of the struggle to create with words. You can create: weave a feeling, a concept, into  true communication, but only if you find the words that work!  Funny thing is I always thought the lyric here was: “the language of God is light” because light was first into the darkness, and so symbolic of inspiration itself, and perhaps because the photon which carries the energy of light is so fundamental. But our own existence is only through the magic of mysterious LIFE, another existence in relationships, more than the sum of the body’s parts is our life, and our Nefesh/soul.

A fourth, and fun possibility, maybe the language of God is MUSIC! Music is also one of those magical things which is more than the sum of its parts. It’s fun to imagine a world whose basic construction is sixteenth notes, or chords. It’s not impossible, because music itself is based upon the mathematics of wavelengths, and rhythms, timing and melody, and those relationships which we call harmony. I would not be surprised to see music woven into the fabric of existence itself

Final possibility: Perhaps the language of God is Love, After all, the story of the first earthlings, Adam and Chava is a part of this first portion too. And Love,  just as math and Torah and music, exists in the spaces in between, in relationship, as more than the some of its parts: it is creative.  This telling  is adapted from R. Ed Feinstein’s Capture the Moon. It’s called Paradise– and it’s the first love story.

From the day Adam and Eve were exiled from the Garden of Eden, they lived together east of Eden, tilling the earth and raising kids, struggling just to stay alive. After many years, when their kids were grown Adam and Eve decided to take a journey before it was too late, to see the world that God created. They traveled the world, exploring it’s wonders…standing on mountain peaks, trekking across vast deserts, and amidst the trees of the forests, watching the sun rise over the ocean, experiencing creation.  In their travels they came upon a place that seemed really familiar… the Garden of Eden, from which they’d been exiled. The garden was now guarded by a scary angel with a flaming sword. Scared, they ran away.

Suddenly they heard God’s gentle voice “My children, you have lived in exile all these many years. Your punishment is paid, come now, return to my garden, come home…and suddenly, the scarey angel disappeared. The path into the garden was before them.. but Adam had spent many years in the world, he was skeptical, he asked God: remind me again, please, what is it like in the garden?   why it’s Paradise! God responds, you never have to work or struggle again, no pain, no suffering, no death, no time… no yesterday or tomorrow, only an endless now… come my children, home to the garden!  Adam considered God’s words, a life with no work, pain, time or death.. a life of ease. Then he turned and looked at Eve, his wife, into the face of the woman with whom he had struggled to make a life, to take food from the earth, to raise children, to build a home… He read in lines of her face the sorrows they’d overcome and the joys as well, all the laughter and tears.  Eve looked into Adam’s face and remembered joys and sorrows, of birthing children, and of death intruding too. Eve took Adam’s hand in hers… they looked into each others eyes, “no thank you, that’s not for us now, we don’t need that now” they said, They turned their back on paradise and walked home.

So maybe it’s love that is still creating the world.

All my thoughts have been drawn to water lately.

Ushavtem mayim b’sason mimayney hayeshua
Mayim, Mayim, Mayim, Mayim…

Why is it that at occasions of joy we sing and dance and shout about water? This song is from Isaiah – You shall draw water in joy from wells of salvation! Water is life, in so many ways, from tears of sadness or joy to the amniotic fluid or the parted sea from which we were born.  In the desert wilderness, especially. In a few days, the Amidah will change from the blessing of tal, the dew, to that for geshem, the rain and wind. Next week we read about the separation of waters in creation, and the following week about the terrifying, cleansing floods of Noah. It has been our wisdom to be mindful of water.

Some post-Yom Kippur thoughts. There are some things I really loved about the journey of Yom Kippur – the soul searching, the hugs, and singing my heart out. But I fear the dehydration my body endures,  it makes me really appreciate WATER. Awareness of water: we are mainly composed of water, it flows through us and dissolves things and pulses within our veins. Beyond our bodies, planet Earth is really the water planet – but only because of our miraculous “Goldilocks” location in the solar system: situated perfectly in distance from the sun so that our oceans neither boil off, nor freeze solid, it is water which keeps the temperature of our planet habitable. Water can do all these great feats because it is electrically polarized, statically sticky, weird. Also, and my Hebrew name is Miriam, containing yam, sea, within. Miriam is legendary not only for saving her brother from the Nile, and singing our freedom across the sea of Reeds, but while she lived, Miriam’s well of living water, mayim chayim followed the Israelites through their desert wanderings. Fresh water is precious,  it is life, we often take it for granted – we should not. Only one percent of the planet’s water is fresh and potable.

With climate change, increasingly drought haunts many regions. Crop failure means rising prices, starvation. In parts of our world children dig in muddy wells, scraping water and walking far distances to bring water home. Drought kills. Somehow we who are mostly made of water must waste it less, keep it pure, appreciate it more….draw water from the wells of salvation.

A wonderful song about water, by David Wilcox: the Farthest shore http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J-MWOCr6h04

Finally, I offer one more  song for this season of introspection and joy:  Dan Nichols’ All We Can Do. It’s about life and death and the potential in that space between. With last week’s Yiskor, and a death in my family, and Kohelet being read during Sukkot, where all is vanity, and with Moses approaching death, unable to enter the promised land in this week’s Torah portion, this beautiful song is perfectly timed: http://www.jewishrock.com/music/all_we_can_do.mp3

Do as much as you can, with the time that you have, in the place where you are,

Eighteen words from a kid,

With less than a year to live,

Eighteen words from a kid

He knew so much more than we thought he did

Lo alecha ham’lachah ligmor
v’lo atah ben chorin l’hibatel mimena

What can one person do, the task is great and the day is short, words our fathers knew, we can’t do it all but we can all do more.

From all that used to be, to all that might have been, there’s no mystery, when we work with what’s in between

All we can do, is all we can do. All we can do is all we can do!

Vows and promises are powerful things.  This Story Shulamis is adapted from Peninnah Schram’s Stories One Generation tells Another.

Many years ago in a far place a young woman, a princess, went for a walk in the country wearing a fine gown of gold and silver. As curious as she was beautiful, she decided to explore along paths she had never been, deeper and deeper into the woods. After awhile, she came to a well.

“Good”, she said to herself, “I am so thirsty, I will just sit in this bucket, lower myself for a drink” which she did, but was unable to pull herself back up. What did she do then? She began to cry for help so a passerby would hear.  After a long time, a young man walking nearby heard her cries. He went over to the well, looked down and saw a strange form in gold and silver. “Are you human or demon?” he shouted down. “ I am human, pull me up, I have no more strength” “Swear to me you are human, and if you are, then when I raise you up you must marry me”   She was very cold down in the well, so she agreed.  The young man pulled on the ropes, and soon the young woman was standing next to him and she saw how handsome was the young man and with a wonderful smile.

“Now that I have saved you, and you are more beautiful than I imagined, you must marry me immediately”, Said the young man.  Who are your family?, the woman asked guardedly. No worries, I am from a respected Jewish family, a Kohen.  “I thank you for saving me, but you must first meet my parents and ask their permission to marry?

“I will wait, then, until I meet your parents” he said, “give me your word that you will marry no one else, and that will assure me of our pledge.”   “My word of pledge without witnesses? The young woman asked with a smile. “Look, there is a weasel, and the well for witnesses, and besides, we have the stars in heaven above us too”

“Agreed” answered the groom to be. And he promised as they walked to come to her parents’ home soon. They parted, repeating their promise to be true.

Each day the young woman waited for the young man, but he never came. Days into months into years. But she remembered his strength, his smile, his promise. With time, more and more suitors came to marry her. At first she simply refused each one, giving an excuse. She did not speak of her pledge to anyone, though, and after a time she began to feign madness to keep her secret and her pledge, acting strangely, tearing out her hair, bursting into song, or into silence. After awhile no more suitors came.

And what happened to the young man?  He returned to the city and did not remain faithful to his pledge. He married another, and before long they had a son. One day, when the child was three months old, he fell asleep in the garden, and his throat was pierced by a weasel’s fangs. The sorrow was deep in that home.  After awhile the couple had a second child, whom they watched carefully – and he was strong and healthy. One day when the child was three years old, he ran out into the garden, quickly climbed up a well, lost his balance and fell to his death.  The mother hearing his scream ran over but too late.  She was inconsolable, and kept repeating “Why? Why?”  When the mourning period was over the grieving wife came to her husband to ask if he know why the children had died so strangely. “Husband have you hidden something from me? Have you ever broken a pledge? There must be a curse on us for all this to happen. Perhaps by telling me the truth we can prevent even more unhappiness”  When the husband heard his wife’s words he realized he must confess, that he was responsible for this grief.  He fell on his knees, wept and revealed what had happened in the wood so long ago when he rescued the princess.

His young wife listened, then walked over to the window and looked at the stars for counsel. After a few moments, she knew what to say.  “We must go and get a divorce, and then you must find the young woman to whom you gave your sacred word to marry. Only then can we all find happiness and peace in our lives

When the young man arrived in the town where his betrothed lived, he asked about her. Everyone told him “ She’s crazy that one, no one would want her for a wife” but after awhile, the young man was direct to her home.  At first the family tried to make excuses why he could not visit.  But he said, “bring 3 witnesses, I promise to take her with any defects she has” Only then they allowed him in. When the young man saw his betrothed, he was shocked by the change in her appearance. She looked like a wild woman, but even now he saw traces of her loveliness, and her smile and he loved her.

He approached her and softly whispered” I have brought 3 witnesses, but I have also brought with me the memory of our original  and true witnesses, the weasel, the well and the stars in the heavens”  When the young woman heard these words, she looked up to see the young man. Her eyes became clear and bright, her loveliness returned, and she spoke slowly with her true clear voice. “I have stayed with my promise to remain faithful to you, for once a sacred oath has been taken, it cannot be broken”

Upon hearing these words, the young man wept. Then he told his betrothed what had happened “ What happened to my children was because of my broken promise – for that I must atone. But now, my love, if your love for me remains as strong as my feeling for you, let us be married – with your parents permission, of course. Her parents wept and granted their permission to marry the daughter, if she consented. So she did, and they were married. They had many children together and lived a life filled with happiness and contentment.

I have a few minor problems with this story: Firstly: what of the vows to his first wife – doesn’t this divorce break those? And is it really wise to make a binding pledge at first sight under the stars? Can people really go crazy if a promise of marriage is unfulfilled? We know the answer is yes, sometimes they do.

There are many more stories like this in Jewish tradition. Childless Hannah pledges her son to the Temple if she conceives.  Not only in Jewish tradition, but Everywhere-  Childhood is full of these stories –“ I’ll let your child go if you guess my name – could it be “Rumpelstilskin” – well then you gave your word, you must let the child go.”

The Kol Nidre prayer that we say on the eve of Yom Kippur has always bothered me. I was in y Synagogue’s office one day in early October,  when the phone rang, and it was someone from the local press asking what the words Kol Nidre  meant for an article about the upcoming holiday.  Well, it’s from the prayer -It means “all our vows” I helpfully added. But I thought to myself and did not say– we pray that they be nullified.  Unravel the words?  forget about the obligations of our souls? Is this right, I thought – what would  the outside world think of us –and what do I think of us- we are obviously not folks of our word, if we pray each year that they be discounted!

I knew the tradition arose from the Spanish Inquisition, where many were forced to falsely vow. I know that we are fallible, and sometimes stuff happens, even after an honest try we just cannot fulfill our word. But still it left me uneasy. Until  I learned of the tale of Jepthahs’(Yeftach’s)  daughter. Here’s a summary. Yeftach is the soldier, son of a prostitute, he rises to power.  He takes a lot of pride in his strength.  His nation,  Israel calls on him to lead them in a fight against Ammon. He feels, or thinks he feels, God’s presence in his life and he knows he’s doing right – doing God’s work, helping his nation. He makes an oath with God:  “If I win, If I get back safely, the first thing I see when I get into the town, the first thing out of the door of my house, I will offer to God as sacrifice.  He wins. He comes home, and his daughter dances through the doorway.  The text said:  and he did as he had vowed.  and so it became a custom to say dirges for the daughter of Yeftah. (Judges 11:28)

Oh, my God! This stupid man, thinking he felt close to God, actually thought that Creator wants him to sacrifice his daughter.  According to midrash, Yeftah was as stupid as a block of wood, that’s why he lost his daughter. What made him think that’s what God wanted? Drunk with his own sense of power and  self righteousness  – he took his own words to be powerful law and murdered.  Joel Grishaver notes:  He could have gotten the high priest, Pinchas, to annul the vow, but he was too proud a “leader “ to ask anyone to help him.  He stupidly put one vow above all the other teachings, for example in our tradition that to save a life is greater than almost all the other laws. Yeftah’s kind of thinking can turn a religion dangerously cruel and radical.

So yes, vows are important , to us all.  If I promise to marry you I really will come for you. But our word, even our vow  is not more important than life, than truth. The story of Yeftah’s daughter shows us powerfully that Kol nidre is the perhaps counterbalance to taking ourselves and our words too seriously –seriously enough to do hurt. We must accept and embrace our own limitations even as we strive to be honorable and keep our promises. We make mistakes, our word is not divine law.  Perhaps that is what Kol Nidre is for. G’mar Chatimah Tovah – may you be sealed for Goodness this Yom Kippur.

Elijah: Eliyahu ha navi saw an inspiring vision of God on the mountaintop. In Hebrew his vision is kol d’mamah dakah, the Voice of Gentle Stillness. Eli is the beloved, champion of downtrodden who never died (he rose to heaven on fiery chariot), so he visits us still to right wrongs, comfort the pained, and redeem us. I studied the verses of Elijah this July from First Kings 18:46-19:21, and really paid attention for the first time. I was wowed – these verses really spoke to me deeply, and as Rosh Hashanah 5773 approach I share my thoughts about God and Elijah’s inspiration: the Voice of Gentle Stillness, beginning with a summary of the story in verse:

Kol D’mama Dakah, a Voice of Gentle Stillness
Eliyahu hanavi, Eliyahu

Fearing for his life Eliyahu fled to Yizreala, from Jezabel
All alone and in despair, God please take my life! he prayed
I am no better than my fathers!

A messenger of God then touched Eliyahu suddenly
You are not alone, he said Eat my friend, and drink, I am with you.
Rise up from the darkness, and Go!
Rise up from the darkness, and know
Why you are here, are you listening?

God said Go to the mountain, I’ll be there!
Furious wind split the rocks, but Listen:
God is not in the wind.
After the wind, an earthquake, then a fire,

Trembling ground, singeing air,

But listen: God is not in the earthquake or the fire  .

Then Eliyahu could finally hear…
Kol D’mama Dakah, a voice of Gentle Stillness

1. Eliyahu has a journey: from the depths of despair to insight and inspiration, aided by 2 malachim messengers that give him food and water, but more importantly the living message he’s not alone! The word malach in Hebrew means messenger and angel, they are the same thing, they are those people in our lives that touch us in some incredible way, They are US when we can be there for someone  Eli journeys from Darkness to light: insight,  inspiration – maybe without coming from the darkness, so yearning , he could not have gained the heights?   Eli’s insight: Shema, Listen, and  WHAT Eliyahu can finally hear that is pretty amazing: he tells us where to find God, and it’s earth shattering and mind blowing stuff:
2. Kol D’mama daka, voice of gentle stillness – GOD IS HERE, in this voice! Just as revolutionary is knowing where God is NOT:  First thing up is a ruach, wind/spirit that is powerful enough to split mountains, shatter rocks.  One metaphor for God IS ruach, another is Rock, This is crazy – contradicting all CW what do you mean God isn’t in these things. But Eliyahu’s insight is NO. Earthquakes are pretty impressive and so powerful. Waddya mean God’s not here? And then there’s fire – a symbol of energy and spirit Why isn’t God here, and what is that VOICE? What do YOU think Eli’s vision , what is the still small voice?
3. Maybe this: After the drama in our lives, the struggle, war, fighting, comes the silence pregnant with new hope, new life – That’s where God is!  Look, Eli’s life IS an earthquake, a drama But the insight of Eli’s journey is to Reject drama. This is maverick –we pray that God fashions light AND creates darkness. But as darkness is the absence of light, could the bad stuff be the absence of God?  God’s not in the destruction, Not sitting there zapping people for punishment. God’s in the Good stuff. The creative power of the universe.  What if God were ONLY the force animating creation, the miracle of new life, a baby born, a seedling sprouting, galaxies forming from nebulae, communities from caring individuals. Not in the drama that overwhelms us –A Vision of God worth meditating on, reaching for resonance with.
4. But can God NOT be in whirlwinds? Well, maybe if we look deep within or beyond – God, and that voice is there – after all, the atoms of air and rocks, and the energy that sends them flying –are connected with the very forces of the universe, our atoms themselves forged in stars that exploded long ago  in the silence of space. In fact even empty space apparently has a field which gives particles reality, mass, it’s NOT empty, but filled with that same music of the spheres the ancients talk of. They meant the invisible laws that run through the fabric of the universe guiding the planets or stars. Maybe God’s sound is in this awe inspiring vibration. Fire and earthquakes even better places where matter and energy meet. Awareness of the majesty and intricacy of creation  can sound pretty beautiful –
5. Another possibility: Maybe it’s the sound of Light: sound and light criss cross in Torah: at Sinai, we saw the thunder.  Eli has come from darkness of the spirit to the heights of the mountain, and now he can hear – light? What does it sound like?
6. Or maybe it’s the invisible connections between everything Eli hears, if you could hear connections, what would they sound like, God?, Connections of action and reaction – between the hearts of people. Notice God’s answer to Eli’s prayer of Despair -It’s people. They bring him food and drink – with hands that care, the arms that hug, the voices that reassure. Connections between people. create communities, Connections between creatures that create living systems. In proper connection, parts of this world  combine to more than their sum.. Connections are what Torah’s all about, maybe if we listen this is the harmony we’ll hear.

Where is God? wherever we let God in. HOW? Eli’s insight maybe we can LISTEN to voices of gentle stillness – of other souls whom we can reach, to awareness of the universe,  to the harmony that’s there. Maybe that voice will teach us: Listen for the sounds of:

joy         Harmony                  Nature         Music              Friendship                      Love.

Kol d’mamaa dakah – the voice of gentle stillness, the voice of the most beautiful things in the universe, the song of God

It’s not an easy thing demanded of us  at this awesome time of year, to be open, to look within, to change. For me, I know if I’m worried, or stressed, it may not even be possible. So T’shuva , returning, or repentance, has got to begin with putting on my  own oxygen mask before attending to others.  All week, since S’lichot, I’ve been obsessed with a powerful song by Dan Nichols, I Found my Love, because I finally saw this mysterious song as an incredible personal journey of T’shuva, of finding a way from anxiety to a sense of love and peace. And I am drawn to these images of the waves, and the sounds of this song, and to a shared journey. May we all find that sense of peace and love this Rosh Hashanah, and may it open our hearts to the possibility of change.

Dan Nichols’ I Found My Love

And the waves come crashing in.

I got away for a couple of days; shut my mouth and opened up to the waves.

A gentle reminder, in the hush of the foam; that the waters inside you, pour it out and come home;

And the waves come crashing in, and the waves come crashing in.

The moment is here, and the moment is gone;  the peace I crave comes when now is my song

releasing the fear, and the lump in my throat; to dive in the deep space between every note.

And the waves come crashing in, and the waves come crashing in.

With my confessions crashing on the beach, I find the peace in me within my reach;

With every honest wave that washed ashore, I found my love….I found my love

And the waves come crashing in…. (It ends and begins with love).

Families! It happens sometimes, that one parent or sibling chooses to outcast another….

There’s a wonderful story, about families, confusion, and choices that bring blessing or curse. As you read this story, notice how many characters face crossroads and choose a fateful path. This story is adapted from Laura Simms telling of Flowering Words, from the book Mitzvah Stories http://reclaimingjudaism.org/

In the land of Kurdistan, there once lived a Jewish King and Queen who had three daughters. The king wanted his daughters to marry wealthy princes, and the two eldest did. But the youngest daughter fell in love with a poor man, and married him against her parents’ wishes. The king, displeased, banished her from the kingdom.

Soon afterwards, the king awoke blind one morning (of course he did, he banished his daughter!) Doctors could not heal him. But one doctor knew of a tree with magic healing leaves which could restore sight. The tree, however, grew in a distant and dangerous land, from which no one returned.  The king commanded his son-in-laws to make the perilous journey. He told them that if they returned with the leaves, he would reward them with wealth and power. If however, they returned without the leaves, they would be killed. Having no choice, they left with strong horses, gold and food. The youngest daughter begged her husband to go, though they were banished. She wanted to help heal her father. So the poor husband willingly set out on an old mare. He carried with him only the desire to heal his father-in-law. He agreed to the same conditions as the others.

The two princes came to the border of the Land of No Return, where a guard described the awful things they would face and the gruesome dangers ahead. Terrified, they turned around and fled for their lives. They knew they could not return, so they opened up an inn near the border and remained there.

The third husband came to the same border, and spoke with the same guard, receiving the same dire warnings. But his desire to heal the king was greater than his fear, so he insisted on making the journey. The guard told him that the only one who knew the way to the magic tree was a fierce giant who lived in a house in a nearby valley. The young man reached the house, which was as high as a mountain. When the giant’s wife saw the man, she urged him to leave:  Your life is in danger! she warned. My husband will want to devour you..  The youth insisted that he must finish his quest, and told his story.

As soon as the ravenous giant returned home, his wife fed him.   I smell a man!  roared the giant.  His wife told him of the brave visitor whom she had hidden under the bed. The giant was astonished at the young man’s courage, and his dedication. Since he had already eaten his fill, he told the young man the instructions he needed to reach the tree and its healing leaves.

You are the first human I’ve met who’s not a coward!  he said, and so he told him:  For seven days you must ride until you reach a crossroad,  In one direction is written “Take this road and find safety and happiness’ and in the other is written “Do not take this road. Whoever follows it will not return”  Do not hesitate, Take the

Road of No Return. Travel until the road ends and there is nowhere to go and then say out loud “What a beautiful path” Then the road will continue on.

Next there is a valley filled with poisonous snakes. No human can survive this, so you must call out “What a beautiful valley filled with honey!”  and the snakes will disappear.  After awhile you will come to a valley filled blood and awful beasts. You must call out “What sweet butter” . The valley will empty out and you can continue.

The giant went on:  Pay attention: When you come to a palace guarded by a dragon and a viper, you have arrived. If the creatures’ eyes are open they are sleeping and you can enter, if they are closed, they’re awake. Enter the palace while they’re sleeping and you’ll come to a door guarded by four lions. If their eyes are closed, they’re awake. Wait until their eyes are open, they are sleeping and you may enter. The door has bells, I will give you a cloth to muffle their noise. You will see a queen inside asleep on her bed. When she sleeps, all the creatures sleep with their eyes open. Beside her bed grows the tree with healing leaves. Fill a bag with those leaves and put some in your pocket as well. Carefully exchange rings with her. Then without hesitation, return just as you have come.

The young man did as he was told. retrieving the leaves, exchanging rings, and returning as he’d come. But when he’d crossed the border, he decided to stop at the inn of his brother-in-laws before returning to the king.

The two princes saw the sack he was carrying, and asked about his adventure. The young man told all except for the ring and the leaves in his pocket. Well, that night they fed him poison, threw acid in his eyes to bind him and locked him in a closet. They stole his sack and made their way back to the king to claim their reward.

In the inn the next morning the youth awoke caged and blind. He remembered the leaves in his pocket and healed himself. He broke out of his prison and made his way back to his wife on his slow mare.

He showed her the leaves he had, but she replied  you are too late, my sisters husbands have already healed my father.

Meanwhile in the Land of No Return, the Queen awakened, and saw the ring, and noticed the leaves missing from her tree. She soared on her magic carpet in search of whoever it was that had stolen her ring and leaves. She inquired everywhere until she heard about two princes, now prime ministers, who had healed the king. She travelled to the palace to hear their story. They told her what they recalled, but then said they’d found the leaves in a forest and picked them.

That’s a lie!  she said. The youngest princess’ husband rode to the palace that same day. He recognized the Queen. He showed her the ring, and told her his story, and not only her, but the king and the royal family as well. He told his story in exact detail – all that had happened. Satisfied, the queen took back her ring and returned to her land. The two prime ministers were banished from the kingdom.  Perhaps they will one day learn to tell the truth, and be allowed back.  When the king heard the third husband’s story, he understood all that happened, perhaps even the cause of his own blindness. The third daughter’s husband became a trusted advisor, and they lived happily ever after in the palace.  Perhaps the Queen still lives in her palace in the Land of No Return guarding the magic healing leaves.

Did you notice all the choices? The youngest princess? The Giant’s wife and the Giant? The Queen? Each choice carries with it a motive linked to karma, consequences. The youngest daughter’s husband is moved by pure kindness, giving him incredible courage.  He traverses a scary road to arrive at place of great blessing. His kindness becomes his bridge.  Kol ha-olam kulo gesher tzar m’od, teaches R. Nachman of Breslov: the whole world is a narrow bridge, and the main thing is not to fear.

September is a time of choices and new beginnings. My nephew is beginning his freshman year, my daughter her senior year at university, my son begins high school. We each begin a New Year full of promise And always as we begin September comes this Torah portion, Ki Tavo, where the Israelites are on the border of a new, promised land, where many choices await. How will they know which way to turn? Moses and the elders will teach them!  And I love the way they teach: it encourages me to be AS DRAMATIC AS POSSIBLE in my own teaching! These verses  (Deut 27:2) instruct the people as they cross into the promised land to place the words and commands they heard at Sinai on large stones. OK, those are the rules: so what? Well, there are consequences, Blessings or Curses for choosing, or not choosing rules of kindness and decency. To dramatize these consequences, the Blessings are to be shouted from a beautiful, green mountain with flowing streams, G’rezim, and horrible Curses shouted from a barren rocky peak (Ebal).  Could there be a more dramatic lesson plan?

So we begin our New Year with choices, small and large: what to say, what to eat, who to befriend, how much to drink. Some choices feel really good at first, but may turn out really awful. We tend to rationalize ALL our choices, so how do we really know the blessing choice from the curse one?.

Rabbi Joe Black http://www.rabbijoeBblack.com/ has a wonderful song called The Blessing and the Curse  Some excerpts here:

When you come into the land,

when you cross that sacred stream,

Be careful where you stand,

at Ebal, or at G’rezim…..

…be careful what you gather,

 is it blessing, is it curse?

But who would knowingly gather curses, who would stand at Ebal?

What if it’s hard to tell the difference? So hard that it seems:

the moon will get you thinking the sun can quench your thirst,

be careful what you’re drinking, is it blessing or curse?

Things are seldom the way they seem,

 yesterday’s promise is tomorrow’s dream

Dreams become the glue that binds the universe,

They can help us tell the difference between the blessing and the curse.

So choices are not always labeled. But we choose anyway.  Just as in the story, the chorus of the song suggests that our dreams, our ideals, can be our gyroscope!

But shouldn’t day-to-day choices be made on more practical grounds? That’s what the king and the brother-in-laws thought! But choose a cruel act, or an apathetic one, and the world changes a bit for the worse. Choose kindness, truth, compassion, beauty, and that karma is real too. In the story, redemption is possible even following a King’s misdeed.  But in real life, there are no magic leaves, so I end with a question: what can be those magic leaves in our lives?

Do you remember what your favorite story was when you were four or five years old? My absolutely favorite was Horton Hatches the Egg by Dr. Seuss The book is about an Elephant named Horton, my hero. Mayzie, a very irresponsible bird, convinces Horton to sit on her egg while she takes a short “break”.  Well, she migrates and parties the whole winter in Miami beach! Horton just stays on that egg. It’s crazy: the sight of an elephant sitting on a nest in a tree! Horton is laughed at by his jungle friends, hammered by bad weather, caged by hunters, forced on a terrible sea voyage, and finally put in a traveling circus. Each time Horton’s laughed at or hurt he says: I meant what I said and I said what I meant, an elephant’s faithful 100%. Finally Mayzie returns for her hatchling. But when the egg hatches, the emerging creature has a trunk and big ears (so much for genetics!)  Mayzie doesn’t want the hatchling, and Horton and the chick return to the jungle together (yachad!) . Why was this story my favorite? Not sure, but the  world is big and scary when you’re five, you might even feel a gawky hatchling, maybe I needed to know I’d be cared for anyway, by the power of promises

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Another memory, this time 7 years old, perhaps you have a similar story to recall:  summer in the Catskills with my Dad and Grandparents: there was a nest above the doorway to the hotel cottage. One early morning I opened the door to find a scraggly little nestling had fallen, mouth open, helpless and wiggling. My Dad placed it gently back in the nest, while an adult bird swiped by his head. I felt pretty amazed at the whole scene. In Parashat Ki Tetse – there’s this wonderful passage in Deut 22:6 If you come upon bird nest before you on the way, in any tree or on the ground, with nestlings or eggs, and the mother sitting on the eggs or nest, you must not take the mother with her children. Send the mother away and then take the young, to have goodness and long life. The text uses the same words for human mother and child. This passage begs the question why? Is it to preserve our meal ticket, by leaving the mother to lay more eggs?  Is it really an act of kindness, and a recognition of kinship to our feathered friends? I like this answer, but maybe it’s a whole lot more than that, for its reward merits goodness and long life, and the wording whispers etyz chayim tree of life.   Perhaps we’re to really notice the miracles of eggs, hatchlings and Momma birds. Perhaps the nests are like our own “nests”: after all, not all animals look after their young, but birds do it big time: did you see March of the Penguins? It’s so crazy because the devotion of those Dad penguins is the only thing ensuring penguins at all!  The nest and devotion of the parent birds are powerful reminders of family connections that enrich us and along the way, baderech, sustain generations. In my experience of becoming Mom, this connection changes everything – a holy and powerful thing, a gift, this bond! Families may be messy things, babies can be colicky, but this can be pure.

This portion also has much to say about parenthood and promises and memory, and breaking those promises, including this: We must not break our pledged to God: in 23:24: Guard what you speak from your lips and do as you have vowed to Adonai you God, as you pledged from your mouth. The Haftarah flips to the promises of God to us, the last verse reminds me of Gershwin’s Our Love is Here to Stay The mountains may crumble, Gibralter may tumble, (they’re only made of clay) but My love is here to stay. (Isaiah 54:10, sort of)

Here’s a crazy thought: we must chase the bird away out of respect for her instinctive vow to care for her nest, because that vow is life. Among the deepest vows are the ones we make to our children.  We promise on the day our beautiful child is born to protect them, to never let them fall, and then of course,  they do – right out of our arms or off the steps, and  onto the brick or into the swimming pool, and we bring them tearfully to the emergency room.   We promise to always be there, and then miss something important, or maybe we just don’t listen hard enough one day when they need us to hear.  What of our vows? We are moved to protect them, and protect ourselves from the unthinkable loss of them. And if we lose them,  what of God’s vow of eternal love? (this is an unexpected place writing these words took me to – feel free to reply!)  Surely the kindest, most loving act would be not to take nestlings at all! But the world does not, cannot sustain every young life. That promise unfulfilled is the most heartbreaking of all.

And real, potent and through it all, Horton  endures.  The promise that endures in spite of the hunters, and the rain and the mockery is love and life and hope.  What will emerge from the bonds of faith and love we make? New life, the end of loneliness for elephants and hatchlings alike, a kinder world of chesed (loving kindness) and hatchlings that bear our dedication, trunks and ears.

Will we be like Horton this Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur?. Will me mean what we say and be faithful 100%?   And what about Kol nidre, that prayer in which we ask that all our vows be absolved – How can that be synched? Feel free to share your thoughts on this too!

Back to Horton and that hatchling, there is a beautiful tradition on erev Shabbat of parents blessing their children with the priestly benediction. In studying that section from Naso this year, I struggled with what gives us the right to bless, and what exactly we want from this blessing for our children: is it the magic of its protection? I don’t know, except that it’s part of the incubation process. We bless as an outlet for our dedication, we mean what we say 100%. We hope our hatchlings will leave our nests influenced to turn around and want to bless others, with the trunk of memory, and the ears to listen (to what, I am not sure) Among the most beautiful versions of the priestly benediction in song, is Sam Glaser’s Blessing, which he wrote as his firstborn approached, this English verse leading into the Hebrew benediction; samglaser.com and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPB0tOxNv8g

May God watch over your soul

Guiding every step along the way

May you know deep in your heart

The love God has given you every day

May the light of heaven above reflect in your eyes

So you see all the wonder in the world!

So, do you have a favorite tree? When I was really small my favorite was a cherry tree in the front yard:  limbs low and easy to climb, pointy leaves made tiny rustling sounds, the bark felt rough, it shaded a cool world with a dirt floor for a little kid. I since have loved lots of trees. A story of trees from Gemara, Taanit 5, adapted from Peninnah Schram’s  Stories One Generation tells another:

Once a storyteller attended the wedding of two friends. Underneath the beautiful chuppa, the bride turned to her friend the storyteller: Please, friend, give us a blessing! Well, when a storyteller gives a blessing, it takes the form of…a story. And so he told the following tale.    A long time ago, a man embarked on a journey across the desert. Weary, dusty and thirsty the man spotted an oasis: a beautiful, leafy tree spread its branches above a flowing stream. Delighted, the man approached the cool shade, drank deeply from the crystal stream, washed, his hands and feet. He listened to the splashing and the song of birds, and inhaled the sweet scented fruit of  its branches. After he ate the traveler fell asleep beneath the branches. Awakening refreshed, the he felt strong and ready to journey on. Feeling grateful to the tree he looked up and asked it Elan, Elan, Oh tree, oh tree, bameh averechehca? How can I bless you? I cannot say “May your fruit be sweet” because you already have fruit dripping with nectar. I cannot say “May you have flowing water” because you already have this beautiful stream to nourish you. I cannot say “may you have the shelter of shade” because you already have a leafy canopy. So I will say this: May it be God’s will that the shoots arising from you be like you!  The storyteller turned to the bride and groom and asked bemeh averechecha: with what can I bless you today? You have so many blessings: the fruit of your love for one another, as I have seen you help and support each other the sheltering arms of friends and companions who have gathered here today, the flowing water of wisdom and spirit. This then: May it be God’s will that the children that you love and guide together, and the works that you dedicate your lives to, may these offshoots be like you!

The Torah has some amazing words about trees in parashat Shoftim, Deut. chapter 20, verse 19. This parashah is all about a world of justice, of right, even in the worst times, or especially then, like times war. In verse 19, it tells of a seige to a walled city, and around this city are trees of the field. The text says, it’s  fine to eat from those trees during the seige, but you must not waste them, Lo Tashchit, or cut them down.  Why not? well, here’s where it’s interesting: the text is ki ha-adam eytz hasadeh, which means “because an earthling is a tree of the field”. Now there certainly could be a question mark here: Is a tree a human, who can run away before your seige? But either way it forms a powerful connection between trees and human beings. If you think about it there are LOTS of ways trees are like people!

Standing on the horizon, straight and strong a tree kind looks like person braving life. We come from the adamah, the earth and the root for adam, noun chosen here for human. We have a tough bark,  require water (symbol of wisdom and spirit) air (or inspiration), We may yield sweet fruit: our creations, life’s works, children. We must be rooted, but be brave enough to stretch out our branches.  We are connected to one another – through community, and connected to the generations – through roots and seeds.  (note the 2^nd largest creature on earth is the Aspen forest of Colorodo – a single macroorganism connected beneath the surface! ) And we must NOT CUT ONE  another down. It is not surprising that the next verses are about murder, a man cut down in a field (!), and no culprit in sight. Then those judges from the first verses of the parashah must come in – to  account for this life, an unclaimed body of the field.

Humans, trees, all connected by justice, so all connected to Torah, which is also called eytz chayim, tree of life. So, how is Torah like a Tree, like a person?  Torah also links the generations, creates community, has sweet fruit, wisdom = flowing water, inspiration = air.   My favorite song to really bring the Torah connection home is – Eitz chayim hi by Dan nichols http://www.jewishrock.com/index.asp  The inspired English verse to this setting:

And the roots of that Tree reach deep into the ground
Cradling the truths our ancestors found
That the Tree is connected to every living soul
And that Peace is made real when we are made whole!

Incredible stuff! Powerful connections. Not our ancestors’ graves in the earth, but the cradle of truths which grow. The word Shalom is from Shalem, wholeness. The wholeness of each soul, bravely standing on the horizon, but connected to one another beneath that ground, and to generations, and to Torah’s rules of decency and justice, can powerfully sprout the seeds of  Peace.