Rosh Hashanah Commentary 5783/2022
I guess I can describe it as brain fog. I am not sure whether it is linked to having had Covid, being exhausted in our third year of a pandemic, no longer being motivated by stress (a goal from the shmita year!), but I am finding it hard to sit and write. My books are strewn all around me for inspiration, many are Jewish in nature, many about the high holidays, many books of poetry, many of my favourite titles providing nearby comfort. I look over and see Alan Lew’s book about the Days of Awe/ High Holiday peroid called “This is Real and You Are Completely Unprepared.” No shit, Alan. I really do feel unprepared this time.
So let’s start here: we are tired. Our brains may feel foggy, our bodies weary. We are collectively if not individually in a permanent state of recovery from the stressors of our lives and the world. If you are feeling like it is a real task to get here to a service, even online and in your “soft pants”; if you are feeling like you are not able to take on some of the spiritual and relational commitments the High Holidays demand; if you are feeling like you want to get off the wheel of continual self-improvement, this High Holiday commentary is for you.
Normally I try to inspire and help people grow through these commentaries. I want us all to use Judaism to enrich our lives, and its social justice teachings to enrich the world. I want that very much. But, oy vey, we are tired. And I think this year the way we need to grow is to learn to stop with all this growth. Like with capitalist economies, constant growth is unsustainable. We have a billion metrics for growth – we count steps when we take a walk, we track our sleep, we may have metrics at work for productivity, we work to close rings on Apple watches, we strive and strive. This year, let’s aim for less striving and more thriving. I say we grow by ceasing to focus on growth. Less doing, more being. Here’s what I mean:
In Lew’s book he argues that the High Holiday period, the Days of Awe, is meant to break us open to let us connect with a higher power. I feel we are arriving here after our Elul journey, the month before Rosh Hashanah, after these challenging few years, already broken open. Some just feeling broken. Some feeling ready to be open. The upside of pain and loss is a kind of vulnerability that makes us open to joy and love. We are wired that way. So this year, just this one year, let’s skip the hard stuff. What higher power should we open to? I’m going to call it something like the biblical “still, small voice.” But it’s in us. What is calling to you? I hope we open ourselves to the higher parts of ourselves, and our most sacred values: community, caretaking, and compassion.
Here I’ll refer to some of Lew’s chapter headings, even as I respectfully disagree with his premise. This is real. And we are so frickin’ prepared. In Secular Synagogue anyway, I see us fostering real and genuine community, across oceans and time zones. I see us doing so much caretaking -- of ourselves, our loved ones, our community members, our earth. And I see us living lives of compassion. We are imperfect. But I see us walking the walk and, to me, that is our whole “why” here.
Lew has a chapter called “Everywhere he went, he was heading for home: Teshuvah.” Teshuvah means turning and also repentance. We note that each year when we meet the new year the rituals and symbols are the same but we are a little different. It is about coming home – to self, to those who care about, to a relationship with Judaism, community, earth, and our values. We may have been doing some teshuvah work over Elul. But in a Shabbat live recently I cautioned that teshuvah can be more about boundaries than forgiveness. This year instead of seeking to forgive others who do not deserve our forgiveness, let’s instead lay loving, joyful, self-affirming boundaries with others. And when it’s hard, let’s forgive ourselves. That doesn’t mean we avoid hard conversations or difficult relationships. It means we are intentional about when they are worthwhile and we show up as our best selves when we choose them.
Lew describes “waking up” with the Shofar blasts during Elul. Feeling alive, present, and grounded. This time of year is about new possibilities, which can sometimes spur us on to set goals, strive for being and doing something we might elusively call “more.” At one of our recent Elul gatherings folks spoke about how hard it feels right now to set goals. I am usually a happy and avid goal setter, especially at this time of year. But it has been a struggle. So this year, let’s let that Shofar blasts awaken us to the goodness, power, and beauty we already are. What if we say to ourselves, “I am doing enough. I am enough.” We don’t need big goals (or maybe taking the pressure off will help us find manageable goals aligned with our values and where we’re at right now). We do, however, need big appreciation. It’s a moment to take stock of who and what we already are and do. I bet the you of 5, 10, 35 years ago would be so jazzed to see who you are now and all you’ve done. Let’s bask in it.
Lew goes on to talk about the image of the opening gate. How we can walk through these Days of Awe feeling transformed. Yes. Let’s feel and find that. Yes. But instead of putting a ton of pressure on the process, let’s trust. The metaphorical gates to somewhere wonderful will open. We will walk through in our own time. Let’s not rush. Let’s not strive. Let’s be.
A few years ago I spoke to this lovely community about the seemingly backwards advice: “don’t just do something, sit there!”
If the Shmita/sabbatical year has taught us about rest and ease, and I hope it has, it has likely taught us that sometimes when we rush to repair a rupture in a relationship, when we rush to meet a work or school goal, when we rush towards any area of personal development, when we rush to build something beautiful, the results are often sloppy, misguided, incomplete, or unsustainable. Sometimes the best course of action is to do nothing. Yes, we want to solve the climate crisis. It might not be about doing more, it might be about consuming less. Yes, we want to make amends with someone. It might not be about pursuing reconciliation, especially if we are still angry or anxious about it. It might be about backing away and taking space. Yes, we want to accomplish things that will make us feel proud of ourselves. It might not be about making a giant to-do list we can never complete. It might be about being fully rested and able to take on manageable chunks.
This year, let’s build and grow from a solid and deliberate place. Let’s be gentle and careful with our words and thoughts. Let’s be generous and kind where we can, but careful not to overextend. Let’s unite our own well-being, mentally, physically, and spiritually, with the well-being of our communities and our earth. More on that at Yom Kippur coming in 10 days.
Between now and then, let’s remind ourselves not to jump from a Shmita/sabbatical year of rest and release headlong into a year of busy-ness and stress. Like Havdallah is a bridge between the beauty and rest of Shabbat and the demands of the work week, let this 10 day period, the Days of Awe, be about how we retain the wisdom of Shmita in any year. This year. We grow in, we grow out. We circle and spiral back around. Teshuvah, the process of turning and re-turning, coming back to self, to home, is hard. All that turning can make us dizzy. Let’s engage the work rooted, on solid footing. Trust that you will come back to self. In fact, we are always already with self, at home. If we listen to that still, small voice inside, what is it asking for? This year, let’s give it what it needs.
