Tefilla Zakkah- Forgiveness

The streets of Jerusalem are emptied of cars (a beautiful and surreal experience, with people walking and talking and sitting in the streets), as Israel begins the observance of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, 10 days after Rosh Hashanah, the New Year. On Rosh Hashanah it is written, and on Yom Kippur it is sealed- so the line goes with regard to our future. When you think about it, though, Rosh Hashanah is really the day of judgement, whereas Yom Kippur is a day of "rachamim", of mercy or compassion. Indeed, the message of Yom Kippur is that whatever ill we have done we can correct, we can return, we can seek forgiveness and change our actions. Yom Kippur is thus fundamentally hopeful, and by going through the process of forgiving and seeking forgiveness ("selichah") we purify ourselves for the year to come. We start the year with a clean slate. Before we kick off Yom Kippur with Kol Nidre (the renunciation of the vows towards ourselves (not to others) that we could not keep), we engage in a long confessional prayer, the Tefilla Zakkah, that also ensures that we forgive those who might have slighted us in the past. I want to reproduce the key bit here:

"I know that there is no one so righteous that they have not wronged another, financially or physically, through deed or speech. This pains my heart within me, because wrongs between humans and their fellow are not atoned by Yom Kippur, until the wronged one is appeased. Because of this, my heart breaks within me, and my bones tremble; for even the day of death does not atone for such sins. Therefore I prostrate and beg before You, to have mercy on me, and grant me grace, compassion, and mercy in Your eyes and in the eyes of all people. For behold, I forgive with a final and resolved forgiveness anyone who has wronged me, whether in person or property, even if they slandered me, or spread falsehoods against me. So I release anyone who has injured me either in person or in property, or has committed any manner of sin that one may commit against another [except for legally enforceable business obligations, and except for someone who has deliberately harmed my with the thought ‘I can harm him because he will forgive me']. Except for these two, I fully and finally forgive everyone; may no one be punished because of me. And just as I forgive everyone, so may You grant me grace in the eyes of others, that they too forgive me absolutely."

May everyone find blessing and forgiveness this Yom Kippur and enjoy a meaningful fast.

Shana tova u'metukah, and gmar chatimah tova (have a good and sweet new year, and may you be written in the Book of Life),

D ;-)

Rain and Renewal

My past few posts have all touched on the weather, and how the weather serves as a marker of time. I find that particularly intense here in Jerusalem. This past Shabbat the winds that had been blowing for the previous few days brought rain along with them- the first rain that Jerusalem has seen in months, and the first rain that I have seen since my arrival at the end of June. It was amazing seeing and feeling the rain. Speaking to fellow students, it seems that many of us felt inclined to run outside and play in it, and offer up some sort of prayer recognizing its import. The High Holy day season, beginning tonight with Rosh Hashanah and going through Yom Kippur and Sukkot, are actually very much founded on Israel's need for rain. Looking at Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and Sukkot as a unit, one can interpret the period of forgiveness inscription in the "book of life" as being a period of preparation for a shift in the seasons so vital for survival here in Israel. We tend to under-value Sukkot, putting much of our emphasis on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, but in many places here Sukkot is still referred to as "He-Chag", "The Holiday". Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are preparation for the harvest, and Sukkot is the time for bringing in the harvest, and praying for a strong rain season so that the coming year's harvest will ensure that all are inscribed in the Book of Life. High Holy Day prayer, as understood in this context, is very grounded in the influence of us on our place and our place on us.

With the start of the High Holy Day/rain season/winter comes the theme of renewal- renewal of the harvest cycle, renewal of ourselves, of our relationships, renewal of our goals for the coming year. This past Friday night I attended (with friends Sara and the Stillman family) my first Jewish Renewal Kabbalat Shabbat service with congregation Nava Tehila, led by Rabbi Ruth Gan Kagan. Jewish Renewal is a type of Judaism that incorporates Hasidic, meditative and musical practices into an egalitarian service/approach. The service was quite beautiful, taking excerpts from various Psalms and putting them to music using guitars, drums, a viola, a digeridoo, and, of course, all of our voices. This singing set a meditative though uplifting tone for the evening, and led up to an energetic Lecha Dodi welcoming the Shabbat bride. Unfortunately, at one point in the service a random fellow from outside (perhaps someone from the neighbourhood), stormed in and denounced the service as being loud/inappropriate/etc, etc. (it didn't make all that much sense, though he was very angry- this would never have happened in a "traditional" synagogue, as he would not have had the chutzpah to storm in). The community and the rabbi dealt with the man in a remarkable way- they let him say his piece, and then a couple of congregants gently escorted him outside and let him calm down. His interference and anger was not met by anger. Rather, Rabbi Ruth addressed the incident by asking the congregation to pray for the best for the man, as it is very difficult and sad to see someone so consumed by anger, especially around the Shabbat and the time of the High Holidays (when we are all supposed to be seeking forgiveness). The service wrapped with a traditional recitation of the ma'ariv, or evening prayers. Following the service I returned to the Stillman's, where we talked and reviewed and drank Jameson's and enjoyed dessert, all parts of weekly renewal.

Shana tova u metukah (have a happy and sweet new year!!),

Dara ;-)

Transitions

Back home I always knew that Labour Day was around the corner when the nights in August would turn crisp and cool, unlike the hot summer nights of July. September would come, and so would back to school, or back to a packed work schedule (what with the courts or the government no longer being on a summer rhythm). September does feel like the time of a new year, and so it always made sense to me that the Jewish new year- Rosh Hashanah, would fall sometime in the autumn, as we all got our work pistons going.

Transitioning back to life here in Jerusalem after a wonderful sojourn back home in Ottawa (as well as in Montreal and Vermont) I am most struck by the fact that it is still so hot that it does not really feel like the new year is around the corner (I shouldn't complain as come January the winter here in Jerusalem will seem like heaven compared to winter back home!!) Nonetheless, today was our first day of real, full-on school (vs. ulpan), and gearing up to today I have been meditating on what this all means. As suggested in my previous post, the fact that I am actually here in Israel, in the first year of a rabbinical program, has finally hit me. While back in Ottawa I was able to appreciate how lovely a life I have there, which led to all sorts of thoughts regarding what has drawn me here. This past Friday night, sharing Shabbat with colleagues and friends Adam, Alicia, Philip and Alicia and Philip's two snazzy kids, I felt why it is so important for me to be spending this year in Jerusalem. After enjoying a delicious Shabbat meal we made our way down Ushishkin street to a little neighbourhood full of people welcoming Shabbat, kids playing outside, great smells and enchanting lights emanating from houses, and so on, to a little second-floor synagogue for services. The synagogue seated about 40 people, and I would describe it as a sort of progressive almost-Hasidic Carlebach style type of place. There was a mechitzah, or division, dividing the women from the men, though it was only a sheet and of course the children attending the service paid it no mind (a little girl spent a good portion of the service climbing on the rabbi). The rabbi himself was positioned at the front in the middle of the mechitzah, so half of him was on the women's side and half of him was on the man's side. Usually mechitzahs bother me (with what the division connotes), but this was fine in the circumstances. The spirit of the service was wonderful. The women and men prayed and danced and sang aloud, and women led bits of the service. I spent my time out on the porch at the entrance to the synagogue's prayer room, and was warmly greeted by the women there, many of whom were quite pregnant and were caring for multiple children whilst praying. The service spilled out into the courtyard, creating a beautiful flow between the inside and outside. The best part, perhaps, was that we only found this service because Philip had been directed to the yeshiva affiliated with the synagogue, and had been quite impressed with what he had seen there. After the service Philip introduced me to one of the rabbis at the yeshiva. It turned out that it was none other than Rabbi Sholom Brodt, who had been a teacher more than twenty years ago at my elementary school (Solomon Schecter Academy) in Montreal!!

I took from Friday night that this year is to be a year of learning, where I will likely discover things or gain insights in unexpected ways. To do so I must keep my eyes open, and I will know as the year goes by where this year will lead me. I suppose, then, that even though the weather is still hot, I am ready to transition into the autumn and all that the new year will bring.

Sending snazziness,

Dara ;-)

p.s.- As you know federal elections will soon be taking place in both Canada and the United States. These elections will be key, as both main parties in both elections present very different visions of what the respective countries should be. Vote.