Jewish
“Me Time”
A number of years ago, I
was talking to a woman (I am never good with ages, but I think she was in her
mid to late 50’s!!!), who was really struggling with her judaism. She was
having a hard time connecting specifically to prayer and more generally with
finding the relevance of Judaism in her life.
So I asked her if there
were ever moments or times in her life when she felt connected to Judaism. She
started telling me about strong Jewish memories with her parents growing up and
then she continued to talk about important Jewish experiences that she created
for her children when they were growing up. And then all of the sudden the
“light bulb” went off in her head. I did not even have to say anything! She
said, “I now understand why I am struggling with my Judaism.” She went on to
say that two major things happened to her in the last 10 years. First, both of
her parents passed away. Second, her children grew up and moved out of the
house. And now she realized that almost all of her Judaism was about her
parents and her children and when she was without them, there was not much
Judaism inside herself. When her children were growing up, she never took
“Jewish Me Time” and now she realized that she did not have a strong personal
connection to Judaism.
I often find when I ask
congregants about what they appreciate about their judaism, they talk about
family and community. I often hear about the family sitting at the Pesach
Seder. I hear about the power of community especially during shiva. I hear
about how wonderful it was to have family and community to celebrate a Jewish
lifecycle. I don’t usually hear about what Judasim does for you. As an
individual.
As you are sitting here,
imagine charting out your connection to Judaism on a bar graph. One bar
represents your personal connection to judaism as it fulfills your own
spiritual needs and the other bar, as it represents your connection filtered
through family and community. I would guess that for many people, the
family/community bar would be very high and the bar about the individual would
be much lower.
So today on Rosh Hahsana, I
would like to challenge us. Family and Community are really important. But in
order for our judaism to be strong and sustainable, it needs to be personal. We
need to have our own Judaism.
This theme is extremely
important on Rosh Hashana. In the famous Unetaneh Tofef prayer, we say
that “All inhabitants of the world, pass before G-d like ‘bnei maron.’
What does bnei maron mean? According to Unetaneh Tokef (based on first
interpretation of the Talmud), it means that we pass before G-d like sheep.
This is certainly one important religious metaphor. Sometimes, we recognize
that we are completely not in control. We feel our vulnerabilities and we turn
to G-d, the Shepard, to help us through. But there is another interpretation
that I would actually like to focus on. The Talmud tells us that Maron also
refers to a city on top of a mountain. There was no nicely paved road to get
there. So Rashi explains, the path was very narrow and it was impossible for
two people to walk side by side. So on Rosh hashana, we are hiking up this very
narrow path. Alone.
It reminds me of a hike I
took this summer with the family. We got to a certain point and it was very
narrow and only one person can go through at a time. Amollia, my 9 year old,
runs ahead and she is literally alone for about 30 feet and its narrow and
difficult and challenging. I run around to meet her on the other end and my
wife was cheering her from the other side. But she had to walk those thirty
feet completely alone.
Family and community are so
important. They cheer us on. Hopefully they greet us at the other end. But we
must climb those thirty feet by ourselves. Almost every “make it or break it”
Jewish and Human moment happen when we are alone. But we need to give ourselves
the “jewish me time” (or maybe the “Jewish Me Workout Time”) to have the
strength to make it up those thirty steps.
There is also an important
Biblical persona that relates to this message. The Talmud tells us that on Rosh
Hashana, Yosef went out of the Egyptian Jail. What do we know about Yosef? What
makes him different from the forefathers and foremothers that precede him? The
answer is Yosef is very much alone, in two ways. First, Hashem does not talk to
him. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob all have conversations with G-d. Joseph is very G-d
focused. He always attributes his success to G-d but you will never find a
verse that says, “And G-d spoke to Joseph, saying.” His second sense of
aloneness is that every “make it or break it” moment in his life (whether its
his encounter with the wife of Potiphar or his dealings with the butler and
baker in the Egyptian Dungeon etc) all happen when he is away from his Jewish
family and community. He needs to muster the inner strength. Sure, he has the
inspiration from his father but he needs to climb those thirty steps alone.
So what is the path
forward? What steps can we take so that we have the Jewish Muscle and Strength
to climb those thirty steps in situations when family and community will not
help? I think we all need to commit to one more hour a week of “Jewish Me
Time”. This Jewish Me Time is not the time that we spend creating Jewish
experiences for our children or community. The Me Time is dedicated time for
your individual Jewish and spiritual growth. It could be through davening,
Torah study, or acts of chesed. It could take place at shul, in your home, or
out in nature. Whatever and wherever it is is less important. Just make it
happen. One extra hour a week (or even a half hour - I know I am negotiating
against myself!).
While Jewish Me Time is
important for everyone, I think that it is particularly important for people
with young children. Even if you are actively engaged in your Jewish life, much
of it probably revolves around your children. This is so important. But if you
don’t find the “jewish me time”, in 20 years, you will realize that you might
not have a Judaism of your own.
I will conclude with a
story. I am not sure how relevant it is, but I really like the story so I will
try to make it fit!
About 15 years ago, I went
to a small shul for Rosh Hashana to be the rabbi. The shul did not have its own
rabbi. The davening was very nice, however the Shofar blower was not the
strongest. Let us just say, that we made it through the 100 blasts but nothing
like our amazing shofar blowers here at Beth Sholom!
On Rosh Hashana afternoon,
I decided to go back to the shul to prepare my lectures and sermons. As I am
about to walk in to the shul, I hear this amazing Tekiah (shofar blast).
I continue to listen to shevarim and teruah and the whole order
of blasts concluding with a Tekiah Gedolah like a I never heard before!
Loud, resonate, confident and beautiful!
I knew one thing for sure.
This was not the same person who blew that morning.
So I walk in the shul and
sure enough, I see another guy putting away the shofar. I tell him how
wonderful the blasts were and I ask him why was he not the shofer blower for
the shul. I see a tear in his eye and he begins speaking in a way that I
immediately understand that he is deaf (or at least severely hearing impaired).
He points to his hearing aids. He tells me that he used to be the shofer
blower. But then someone in the shul heard that someone who is deaf may not
blow the shofar. The shul did not have its own rabbi to decide so they asked a
very well known rabbi/posek. The rabbi rules that this fellow should no longer
blow the shofar for the shul.
I never saw someone who had
once done a mitzvah now in so much pain for not being able to do the mitzvah.
(Parenthetically, the
question is not so open and closed. There is room in halacha to allow the
person who is hearing impaired to blow the shofar if he can hear at all which I
believe was the case with this individual. I think that if the community had had
their own rabbi, the answer might have been different).
I think about that hearing
impaired man every year on Rosh Hashana. In a certain way, the story
(especially the pain I saw on his face) motivates a lot of what I do as a
rabbi. But there is one aspect of the story that I never understood until now
when I prepared this Sermon. Why was this hearing impaired shofar blower in the
shul in the middle of the afternoon blowing by himself? Now I know. He was told
that he could not blow the shofar for his family and community. But he was
there blowing for himself. I imagine that as he blew the shofar, he was feeling
the pain and struggle of being a Jew with a disability. But I am sure he was
also feeling his connection to G-d and Torah through the shofar and other
mitzvot. I am sure his family and community were as supportive and loving as
possible, but he was there by himself in the middle of the afternoon climbing
those thirty steps that he needed to climb alone.
So as we hear the shofar
this Rosh Hashana, I pray that we are all blessed with the amazing gifts of
jewish family and community. They are so important. But I also pray that we
make the commitment to strengthen our Jewish selves. That we have the strength
to climb those thirty steps which will make all the difference.
Shana Tova!
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