Rabbit Hole graphic

Friday, July 29, 2011

Blessing life


Tisha b’Av 5771 falls this year on August 8, 2011.  It is ten days away.  It will mark the end of the three week period on the Jewish calendar during which many Jews remember and reflect on several pivotal and dark chapters of Jewish history.  Tisha b’Av has never been a regular part of my personal Jewish calendar.  I didn’t go to a Jewish overnight camp.  I wasn’t a teacher of Judaism during the summer months.  I knew about the 9th of Av from textbooks but it simply hasn’t been a part of my Jewish experience.

Although this is a time of sadness and deep reflection on the Jewish calendar that is not what occupies my mind.  I am not thinking about what some call the saddest day in Jewish history; a date which shook the very essence of Jewish/Israelite religious life. I am not dwelling on events which could have broken our people and put into serious question our connection to God.  I am deep in reflection on the status of my own life.  I am contemplating but not mourning, my own loss of good health.  I am recognizing the bump in my life journey.  Nobody saw it coming, least of all me.  There were no signs on the road that said “slow bump ahead”.  Still, my mood does not coincide with the sadness which the Jewish calendar would otherwise dictate.

Eleh ma’asei b’nai Yisrael, these are the journeys of the children of Israel.  That is the opening line of this week’s Torah portion, simply called, Massei, “Journeys.”  The GPS for my journey has inadvertently led me to a place of major reconstruction on the roads.  The calm, gentle voice to whom we refer in my family as “Judy” is telling me that my route needs to be recalculated.  I have a really awful sense of direction, so this is not good news.  In recent weeks, however, I have learned that for the journeys of my life that really matter (and that are not on a literal road) my sense of direction is more than adequate!  In recent years, y spiritual journey has been a priority.  As directionally challenged as I know I am on a literal road, I’ve positioned myself perfectly on the spiritual by-way.  Nourishment, love and support are pouring in on me.  God is winking at me with an impish smile.  She has moved from my peripheral vision to fill the expanse of the space all around me.  I can listen.  I hear and I know that I am blessed.  I am grateful for all of the opportunities that have come my way and for the ability to see opportunity even behind an outrageous disguise.

John Lennon wrote (and sang) “life is what happens to you while you are making other plans.”  I’ve had that experience a myriad of times.  Usually it has been in the form of chance encounters with people or events that have become vital connectors or participants in my life journey.  And usually, upon reflection, they were not as “chance” as I’d thought, but rather a result of my having been open or reaching out to receive them.  This is the most significant time that life has “happened at me”.  It barged in, uninvited.  And yet, I have watched myself move through the days with a grace that I have prayed for but wasn’t sure I had.  I understand that my way of life will be inconvenienced for the foreseeable future, but it is not broken and certainly not destroyed.  

The vehicles through which I have sought a connection with God have become more visible, less camouflaged since my cancer diagnosis.  Having been confronted with the reality of life’s transience has reinvigorated the possibility of my making it a blessing for myself and I hope, for others whose lives I touch.  I am very grateful for the many who have joined me on this less than desirable spectrum of the human experience and for their abundant blessings which embrace me every day.  I pray for the strength and courage to maintain my ability to receive and to give.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

The people in peoplehood


On my journey to Jerusalem to study the meaning of peoplehood, I found profound blessing among my people. 

We were a group of 100, from disparate places in North America; 43 from our shul. Many were acquaintances. I had not yet met others.  We were like minded adults looking forward to engaging deeply and with honesty in challenging, difficult and often personal discussions.  I had expected a week of intellectual stimulation. What I encountered was a group of remarkably thoughtful caring and giving individuals each on his own Jewish journey and almost without exception, willing and even desirous of embracing all who boarded our particular multiple-terrain vehicle.

The Shalom Hartman Institute in Jerusalem served as the hub of our GPS.  It was literally awesome to listen to and engage with the brilliant, articulate and creative thinkers who were our teachers at Hartman.  Our task was to explore our individual and collective relationships to the people Israel and to each other and ourselves as Jews.  How do we negotiate, let alone feel comfortable and grow with and within, the profound fractures among our people and even each of us within our own souls?  Can we learn to hold simultaneous "pekuach nefesh" issues, as Donniel Hartman called them? That is, the multitude of issues that threaten to tear both the state and the people Israel apart both internally and externally.  What are the boundaries of tolerance? Of criticism? We came to understand deeply the sometimes excruciating challenge not to say something that we know an other will not be able to hear.  In the process I began to clarify some of my own thoughts.  More important even than that, at this point in my journey of life I was embraced by many new friends. In a world that often feels divided by "us" and "them", by "self " and "other", I witnessed and was embraced by " us".

My own personal journey with breast cancer took a back seat for the last two weeks.  My mind and heart were occupied with other things.  By far the most significant are the new friendships and the deepening of ones that already existed.  Everything that is happening to me is new.  I have no control but I do not feel like a victim.  I know the possibilities of this insidious disease.  I feel scared and am grateful for that degree of reality having sunk in.  I’m sore, but not in pain; another way to keep in touch with the reality of my life forever changed but more than managing from one day to the next.  I feel deeply, the immense value of true friendship.  I am grateful for everything I have including what appears to be a strong physical and emotional constitution.