Nachamu nachamu ami: where is solace to be found?

Rabbi Dayle A. Friedman

ReBoot Mitzvah 20 July 2013/ 13 Av 5753

Shabbat shalom! I’m so honored and pleased 
to be sharing this moment with all of you.

To begin, I’d like to locate ourselves in Jewish time. This is the Shabbat after Tisha B’Av, our collective day of mourning for destruction, desolation, and exile. Two things characterize this day ritually. First, the reading of Parashat Va-etchanan, which we are treated to a reprise of the giving of the Torah, as well as the Shema. Secondly, this day features a special Haftarah,  Haftarat Nachamu, first of 7 haftarot between Tisha B’Av and Rosh Hashanah, collectively known as the haftarot of consolation.

I’d also like to take a moment to locate this day in the context of my life. I am 57 years old, past the middle of life (unless I should be blessed, like Moshe, to make it to 120!). This season of my life has been both a time of renewal and reinvention after a professional disappointment and a season of great sorrow. My family is companioning my Dad as he takes the slow path toward letting go of this life, and my sister, Jill, who is gravely ill with a disease that will rob her of length of days.

I am drawn to the question of our Haftarah, which begins: nachamu nachamu ami--take comfort, take comfort my people. The prophet asks: where is solace to be found in the wake of the breaking apart of that which we’d held to be our center? In the case of our people, Bet ha-Mikdash, the holy Temple was our sacred center, our place of connection...to one another, to God, and to the very possibility of beginning anew that the sin offerings provided.

Kabbalah teaches that shattering and destruction are woven into not just the story of our people, but into the very fabric of the universe. The world came to be through a cosmic shattering, shever–God attempted to create a world, but all did not go well. There needed to be space that was not God in order for there to be a world, so God withdrew just a bit. God created vessels to hold the world, vessels that would have divine light in them, but not be completely occupied by the divine. There was a cosmic accident--the vessels could not contain the divine light, and they shattered. The light that was previously everywhere and always was fragmented into sparks. These sparks were scattered, and encased in shards.  The human task in this world of darkness is to seek out and lift up those sparks of the divine, the work called tikkun.

My exploration of aging over the past 35 years as a rabbi and chaplain has shown me that shever and tikkun are shot through our individual human lives, as well. Particularly in the second half of life, we are confronted by myriad shatterings--moments when things simply cannot continue as before--professional disappointments, physical limitations, and, most of all, losses of dear ones.

What has intrigued me is the human capacity to emerge from shattering toward tikkun--many, many of the elders I have accompanied manage to BEGIN AGAIN...to reach with zest for life, for love, for growth. I wonder what it is that fosters the desire, will and ability to seek out and find new light in the wake of destruction.

This, of course, is the task our people faced after the Hurban, destruction and exile. So what can we learn from the text of this Shabbat that can point the way toward solace and tikkun?

The comfort/solace/tikkun

A voice calls out in the wilderness:  clear a pathway, forge a path toward our God…

Behold the Eternal your God will come in strength.  Like a shepherd guiding her flock, God will gather the scattered ones, and take the babes to her breast.

In the wake of shattering, we need and can find new pathways to spiritual connection, to solace, to tikkun. I want to focus on two particular pathways toward solace and renewal:

Belonging...we who suffer are taught that we are connected--to each other, as we are addressed as ami--the people, to God, whose we are, and to ourselves. After the calamity, the Jewish people had to hold on to each other, perhaps getting past petty hurts and insults from the past (sinat hinam). They learned that holding hands, or silently being together, or embracing, they could gain strength and courage to go on toward light.

Torah--after shattering, downfall, destruction, we receive the Torah anew. Just as after the sin of the Golden Calf, new tablets were given to the people, so, too, after Tisha B’av, we get to experience Matan Torah once again.  When we pass through darkness in our lives, says the Slonimer Rebbe, we get to receive new Torah. In this way, every loss is a preparation for the possibility of new growth and flowering.

Pathways toward solace in my life

Connection: I am most profoundly sustained by the relationships in my life: my beloved, David, who both accepts me totally and calls me to grow and to refine my neshomeh. My beloved children, Anya, Anat, and Avram, who pull me toward new pursuits (baseball, swimming!), who humble me by calling me on my shortcomings and my wardrobe, who inspire me with their passion for what they see as right, for love and their willingness to continually, as Anat says, “just start over.”

I am sustained by my connection to my original family--tho’ we are spread from coast to coast, the threads of love and concern that connect me to Mom, Jill, Glen, and Dad and Jeannie, as well as my step-siblings, are precious and ever-present. I am sustained by the family I married into--I so delight in the warmth, exuberance and caring that I share with Doris and Ari, and with all of the cousins. I am rich in connection of my dear ones, my precious friends, those who have traveled the path of life with me from childhood (Lisa), from college (Elyse), and from my single days (Sue), my Rosh Chodesh sisters, with whom I am tenderly traversing all of life’s bitterness and sweetness, and my precious friends, neighbors and community members who share everything from a casual schmooze to showing up when my family or I really need help. Solace surely comes from precious connection.

Torah. The unwelcome shatterings of this part of my life have given me an opportunity to learn more, and to learn differently. A year and a half ago, my job ended--the money ran out, and the program I had considered the fulfillment of my vision ended. I needed to reinvent my professional life. I decided to take a gap year (or 2 or 3) to reflect, and to write, and to re-imagine my career.

One of the things I realized when I began to reshape my professional life was that I had always been in a gigantic hurray. I realized, too, that I had never started a single learning process of my adult life at aleph (a)...when I was 17, I began ulpan in Israel in Kittah Bet (2^nd level). When I decided to go to rabbinical school, I skipped the first year and started in the 2^nd year. When I became a chaplain, I was grandfathered into certification with one unit of Clinical Pastoral Education instead of the requisite four.

There were costs to this hurry--a feeling of never having the strongest foundation...of always “making it up as I went along,” of not connecting as deeply as I might have with those I learned alongside. There were holes and gaps, in my knowledge, and in my confidence.

Now, I want to learn--and live--with more spaciousness and more intentionality.

Part of what I want to offer professionally as a resource for aging is spiritual direction. I was a spiritual director at RRC 13 years ago, when the College first began to offer spiritual direction for the students. All of us directors lacked formal training...we read, we learned from each other, and Bobbi and Jacob, who actually had formal training, and we practiced by the seat of our pants. This time, I decided to start at Aleph--I enrolled a year ago in Morei Derekh, a 2 1/2 year training program in spiritual direction. I treasure the gift of filling in my gaps and learning with a peer group, of deepening as a human being, not just grabbing the knowledge I need for the task at hand. The learning is precious--sometimes frustrating, always humbling, and often surprising.

This ReBoot Mitzvah is part of my story of learning differently, of starting from Aleph. Temple Micah, my classical Reform congregation did not have Bar or Bat Mitzvah, only Confirmation at age 15. When I was in Israel on Eisendrath International Exchange program at age 17, those of us who had not had a Bar/Bat Mitzvah were invited to read a few verses of Torah on the top of Jebu Musa, the purported site of Mt. Sinai. It was exciting, but definitely didn’t have the feel of a Bat Mitzvah for me--I didn’t get to share the occasion with my family and friends, I didn’t give a d’var Torah, and I did not chant Haftarah….and, I hasten to add, I didn’t have a party! Last summer, on Shabbat Nachamu, I realized that it was 39 years since I had read from Parashat Va-etchanan on Mt. Sinai. I decided that the 40^th anniversary, today, would be a great moment for a REBOOT, to fill in the gaps of what I had done so long ago by sharing it with my dear ones and community, and to finally learn haftarah trope, which I am embarrassed to say I had managed to miss even in rabbinical school!!!

I had to overcome not inconsiderable sheepishness in deciding to share this occasion--isn’t it a bit ridiculous for a RABBI who has been spending the last 28 years immersed in Torah and practice to have a bat mitzvah? I decided to go ahead anyway, for two reasons: one, there is always room for another simcha!!! I want to practice what I preach, in terms of marking moments of the second half of the lifespan with ritual and celebration and community. And secondly, I want to share this occasion as an example of beginning again, of tikkun through rebuilding or reinforcing a foundation, of never ever being finished learning and growing.

Here’s my blessing- -on this Shabbat Nachamu, for all of us. In the wake of life’s unavoidable shatterings, may we all find tikkun.  May we be nourished by connection to others who can offer humor, perspective, assistance, and most of all, presence. May we be sustained and challenged by new learning. May we never be too proud to be curious, may we reconstruct our foundations and awaken new depths. May we forge new pathways to light, to hope, to solace, and to love.

Questions for discussion

1. What have you found has given you solace in the face of shattering, destruction, loss?

2. What gets in the way of experiencing solace, finding the hidden light?

3. What new beginnings have emerged for you after shatterings?

Out at Shul... and No Big Deal

Out at Shul… and No Big Deal - reposted from Keshet.

By Ruth Loew | Tagged allies, coming out, family, featured, Keshet Parent & Family Connection, parents

8

A series by Jewish moms and dads with LGBTQ children.

When a child comes out, a coming out process begins for the entire family. In honor of Mother’s and Father’s Day, we bring you our third post in a series by parent leaders of Keshet’s Parent & Family Connection. The Connection is a confidential peer support program for parents and family members of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer Jews. We celebrate the support and love that these parents give their LGBTQ children – and the support they now offer other parents. This week’s post is by Ruth Loew, wife of a rabbi and mother of twin gay sons. You can read the previous posts in this series: one, by a mother of a queer daughter in Colorado, here, one by an Orthodox parent from Baltimore, MD, here, one by the mother of a gay son in the Philadelphia suburbs, here, and a celebration of Mother’s Day/Mothers’ Day here.

Ruth, on right, with sons Aaron and Nathan Tabak

A couple of decades ago, thesynagogue to which my family belongs hired a young rabbinic student, who happened to be gay, as its youth group adviser. In short order, its leadership then fired him, not because of any transgression, but merely because of who he was. The congregation’s membership turned out to be more liberal than its leaders. Shul members, appalled, rallied to the adviser’s support, and he was quickly rehired.

At the time, this incident didn’t seem very relevant to me. My three sons were nowhere near youth group age yet, and I didn’t know many LGBTindividuals very well. I wholeheartedly supported the synagogue membership in its adamant opposition to discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation. Apart from that, though, I didn’t give homosexuality much thought, amid the ongoing pandemonium of parent-teacher conferences, carpools, swimming lessons, and squabbling siblings.

Then, during the adolescence of my two younger sons, identical twins, I started to wonder if one or both might be gay. They weren’t overt about it, but they certainly didn’t seem to be at all interested in girls. They were both fervently interested in justice for minorities in general, the minority that concerned them most seemed to be the LGBT community, and the worst criticism either could level at a politician was to call him homophobic. My husband’s response was generally: “They’re young, they’re shy, and they depend on each other socially; maybe they just haven’t figured out their sexuality yet.” Maybe so, I said; but if they look like ducks and quack like ducks, maybe they ARE ducks. By their senior year in high school, when they insisted on attending a seminar on gay marriage, even though it meant making their own travel arrangements and delaying our familyShabbat dinner, I was pretty sure. I didn’t want to talk to local friends about the matter, though, because I didn’t want to say anything that might embarrass the boys later.

As I became more convinced that one or both boys were gay, I found it immensely reassuring to realize what a non-issue this was in my synagogue and how much support we, as a family, had there. By then I had come to know a number of LGBT individuals as friends, fellow synagogue and Jewish community members, and key contributors to that community. Once my sons were comfortable withbeing out in the Jewish community, I began to tell fellow congregants. As one gay friend said, “You can talk to me any time. It’s one thing to be liberal in the abstract, but it can feel different when it involves your own family.” I like to think that this synagogue environment made it easier for our sons to come out to us. Certainly it continues to support my husband and me in accepting and celebrating their sexual orientation as they have grown into responsible, compassionate, interesting young men.

Jewish institutions need to be, not merely passively supportive of LGBT rights, but proactive in being welcoming and fully inclusive. We need everyone’s talents to build a community. We are enriched by the involvement of all. And where LGBT individuals are truly welcomed and valued, parenting a gay child becomes infinitely easier, too.

Wil Gafney Davar 5/25/13 - B'Ha'alotechah

Here's a link to Wil Gafney's [as always] fantastic Davar Torah on Shabbat.
Thanks, Wil!

Join with Dorshei Derekh at Kol Zimrah, 5/31, and for Shabbat Dinner

Click on the flier and it will enlarge

GJC Hosts Mega-Tikkun Leil Shavuot - Tuesday night, May 14th

Time to Pony Up for Purim!

GJC’s 2013 Purim Tsedakah Collective Welcomes Your Participation

This Purim, GJC and Minyan Dorshei Derekh will join together in an expanded Mishloah Manot tzedakah project, which Dorshei Derekh has done for nearly a decade. It allows us all to fulfill two of the important mitzvot of Purim: mishloah manot (giving treats to our friends) and matanot la’evyonim (giving gifts to the poor).

Here’s how it works:

• You donate between $18 – $108 to the project.
• Donations can be made via PayPal or by sending a Check made out to GJC to the office (for checks, please indicate on envelope and check that payment is for the Mishloah Manot project).
• The bulk of the proceeds is donated as tzedakah to four food-based organizations that help the hungry.
• A small percentage of the proceeds will be used to provide a mishloah manot goodie basket for each household that attends the evening Purim celebration on Saturday, February 23 in the Charry Sanctuary.

Some of the 4 food organizations are old DD favorites and some are new – we will be feeding people near and far:

1. We will once again be supporting a Weavers Way Community PRogram, the community garden at Stenton Family Manor, a homeless shelter in Germantown.  The grant  helps a farm educator teach residents how to raise food.  The produce raised is used directly in the kitchen to feed residents.

2. Hazon has carved a niche supporting the new Jewish food movement, Jewish Farm School, CSA’s and generally promoting local, healthy, sustainable agriculture. Many GJC members have participated in Hazon’s famous bike rides.

3. Philadelphia’s own Female Hebrew Benevolent Society distributes $50 supermarket gift certificates to impoverished clients to help them cover Passover food expenses.  This will be the Ma’ot Chitim donation, specifically given to the poor for Passover provisions.

4. Through our emissary Nomi Teutsch, who was a Tony Blair Interfaith Social Justice fellow at United Sikhs last year, we will be contributing to the Sikh Food Pantry inKenya, used to feed the hungry suffering famine conditions in the Horn of Africa.  The need is ongoing as is their wonderful work.

We are so proud of the work these organizations are doing and that we can support them, filling the mitzvah of feeding the poor.

We are seeking volunteers to put the packages together. Come shmooze and assemble baskets from 4-6 PM on Thursday, February 21, in the Charry Lobby. Kids ages 7 and up accompanied by a parent are welcome to help with this mitzvah!

We need clementine boxes!  Please drop them by the GJC synagogue office anytime up until Thursday 2/21

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Nusach Including Bilhah and Zilpah

David Mosenkis has provided an MP3 file of the liturgy which includes Bilhah and Zilpah.