From Shiva A Beginning

Moshe received Torah on Sinai and passed it to Joshua.
Joshua passed it to the Elders, the Elders to the Prophets, and they to the Men of the Great Assembly. And they said, "Don't judge in haste, raise many disciples, and build a fence around Torah." (Avot 1:1)


As I sit in the week of shiva following my mother's death last Monday, I have had many recommendations, and many thoughts, about how to keep time during the process of mourning. Shiva is obvious, mostly - seven days mostly at home, letting community surround me and my family. And I must say the community, composed of people I know who knew my mother, and of people I know who didn't know my mother, and people I hardly know who did or didn't know my mother, has been incredible. I feel comforted. I feel met and honored in my place of mourning.

The custom of saying Kaddish daily is likely to be difficult, given the lack of daily minyan and the inevitable busy life I will be returning to. Someone suggested study, particularly some piece of Torah or Mishnah or other traditional text, as a daily practice. This would surely honor my mother's zest for learning.

Today, though, it came to me. My mother was a writer - and writing is for me a core part of life and living, a passion my mother passed on to me. Recently I read in one of her journals her words praising a piece I had written. Writing is a way to honor my mother's memory - and writing daily with this purpose is also the best way to avoid one of the pitfalls of grief that I could easily fall into - a sort of writer's block.

So I begin a practice today, on the 5th day of sitting shiva for my mother, in which I will write for eighteen minutes -- memories of life with her, reflections on her life and things she taught me, and, when I get stuck, finding a text to learn and reflect on in her memory. This in addition to journaling daily and any other writing I might do.

Today, I begin in reflection on Avot 1:1 (above):

My mother gave me Torah -- she and the people she surrounded herself with.
   She gave me Torah by choosing Judaism for herself and for me.
   She gave me Torah by choosing to send me to the Seattle Hebrew Academy
          for my early education.
   She gave me Torah by joining and becoming an active member of Temple Beth Am, 
         and by joining the choir and being in the synagogue for Shabbat and 
         other events throughout the week.

My mother gave me Torah by pursuing her graduate education, 
         especially because it was in the field of Jewish Studies, 
         but also because it was the pursuit of ongoing, ever growing knowledge.
   She gave me Torah by celebrating Jewish life at home, weekly and through the year, 
         and at personal moments along the way.

My mother gave me Torah by pursuing justice, through giving to diverse organizations,
         and by being an open and gentle and generous person to whomever she encountered.
   She gave me Torah by living her life with verve and with dignity, from difficult beginnings
         as a war orphan to the very end through adversity and illness.
  
My mother gave me Torah by loving me, from the moment she gave life to me, teaching me
         to walk through fears and to face life head on.
   She gave me Torah by holding on tight to life, and by giving to her family in the moment
         she finally let go of her place in this physical world.

Mom. Ma. Ima! I have called you many names. You gave me life. You gave me Torah.
   Your memory will always be a blessing, sweet on my tongue as I share with friends
         with family, and especially with my son.


I invite my readers to write your own reflections. Think of someone who has taught you Torah - who has taught you about life. Maybe this person is deceased, like my mother, but maybe they are still alive (too often we reflect only after someone has gone). How did this person teach you? What did they teach you? What have you received?

On War, Peace, Love, and Writing About It All

Israel, war, terrorism, Gaza, Hamas, peace, prayer . . . the "labels" are easy to come up with.

Despite all the words written, shared, and reshared about the current situation in Israel, I - a rabbi, a leader in the Jewish community, a mom, a Jew, and a self-declared writer - find it nearly impossible to write about what is happening in Israel, between Israel and Gaza, Israel and Hamas, right now.

I feel physically blocked - in my heart especially, in my head and in my gut, a stiffness running throughout my body. My blood doesn't seem to flow right, I'm not breathing well, and the fetal position sounds really good about now.

"Again!" says the feeling. "Again?!" and, on a sigh, "again."

War does not beget peace. The horrid cycle of revenge only begets more revenge. Bombs, rockets, missiles - these beget terror, anger, and a mother-bear sense of protection. I know. I felt it on 9/11 in America. And I feel a little PTSD from being in Israel during suicide terrorist attacks, and from my last trip to Israel in the summer of 2006, when I, like many today, sat in or near a shelter (in restaurants and at "home"), counting the explosions and waiting for news: what hit, where, was anyone injured; smelling smoke from resulting forest fires.

Peace will come only when all cultures value life - everyone's lives - more than they value anyone's death. This has been said before. So why? WHY do we human beings find this so difficult? When will we learn to love more than we hate? Why do I feel powerless? Why am I convinced that there's no stopping the current Israeli government and military and the current Hamas government in Gaza? That neither side is in the right, justified in their actions?

And that's it: I find it hard to write because I feel powerless to do anything about the situation, that my words will stop no war.

But I refuse to let the fear, the feelings of powerlessness and physical blockage, get the better of me.  I am writing about them, because maybe you have felt the same things, and need to hear someone say it. And I am writing to tell you about the prayers - traditional words (so many Jewish prayers are about peace) and my own words - that I am filling my mouth with:

• Ufros aleinu sukkat shelomecha - spread over us the shelter of Your peace (traditional)
• Od yavo shalom aleinu ve'al kulam - yet may there be peace for us and the whole world (contemporary)
• Oseh shalom bimromav, hu ya'aseh shalom (hi ta'aseh shalom) aleinu - may the One who brings peace in the heavens bring peace to us (traditional)
• Praying for peace, for cooler minds to prevail over the heat-of-the-moment reactivity, for all the lives that are caught in the crossfire.  This prayer is specifically for Israel and her neighbors, and generally for our world.  May we move towards peace, joy, love, and creativity - and ever away from destruction. (My words posted to Facebook, 8 July 2014)
• Please, Holy Creator, PLEASE... (I ask here)
• bring wisdom to those in power
• create a peaceful heart in all of Your people and peoples
• mold our hearts for compassion and love-of-life
• Lo yisa goy el goy cherev, lo yilmedu od milchama - let nation not lift up sword against nation, neither learn war anymore (traditional)

May love and creativity abound - may all war and hatred end.  What else can I say? For a political understanding of the current situation that comes close to what I think, see Gershon Baskin's words here, and JStreet's statement here (this just comes close, and that I do not fully agree with everything JStreet says or does).

"How many times must the cannon balls fly, before they are forever banned?"

May we soon live in a world where we construct our buildings to welcome those who would visit, as Abraham and Sarah did, and not to fortify or fight against our neighbors. (Pics from Caesarea, Israel - 1993, copyright mine.)

New Respect for Writer's Block

All that white space in Torah, the spaces between the words, the information left out… I wonder, was it left out intentionally?  Or did the “author(s)” of Torah know that they just needed to “finish” the work and put it out there even if it wasn’t “perfect”?  

Apparently, I have writer’s block.  I was sure I posted in January, but apparently not.  Believe me, I’ve been writing up a storm!  I’ve even drafted a few blog entries, on “paper” and in my head.  I have plenty to say.

But I’m (re)discovering that writer’s block isn’t always about not writing.  Sometimes, yes, it’s the stare-at-the-page-can’t-find-a-single-word block.  Sometimes I have a lot to say, and I really want to share it, and I’ve even written it out.  But I make excuses: I don’t know if this is right for the blog, I’m not sure it’s a “finished” product, I don’t know if anyone is actually reading, or I don’t know if the “wrong” people are reading, or I do want feedback or I don’t want feedback, I’m sick, my son is on school break, I don’t have time.

At My Writing Space, created by prompt from The Artist's Way

In December, shortly before this unconscious hiatus from blogging, a rabbinic colleague recommended a book called The Artist’s Way (Julia Cameron) - a workbook aimed at moving one past various creative blocks, recognizing that the creative energy in us is the way in which we created in the image of the Creator.  This is a very compelling answer to me about what Torah means that humans are created “in the image of G-d” (Genesis 1:27).

In the process of engaging with this book, I have written hundreds of pages - mostly journaling, but also drafts of two children’s books and some unpublished blog posts.  When the book asks each week if I see where I am blocked, I scoff.  “I’m not blocked,” I say, “I’m writing - I’m blogging.”  Whoops.  The only writing I have shared, however, has been work-related sermons and such.  I’ve shared the writing I had to write, not the writing that I have created as part of my personal creative energy.

I’ve used every excuse, until I became aware this week how bad the excuses really are.  And I see, after weeks of working through the book and claiming NOT to be blocked, that I actually am blocked.  Yes, I’m writing.  But I’m not sharing.

Can there be “wrong readers” on a blog, since anyone who reads the blog is self-selecting to do so?  And since I can find changes to make in any sermon, blog entry, short story, etc. that I’ve already been put out into the world, I know a finished project isn’t necessarily a perfected one.  I need to unblock, to put my work (and yes, sometimes my process) out there - blog or otherwise.  It won’t always be good, and it will have white space (intentional and not).  Let the readers read into it as they will.

More soon.  Um...I hope!