Monday, September 6, 2010

Happy New Year, Jewish People!

It’s awfully hard to start over. It must be. How else to explain the annual orgy of Jewish “ready-set-go” holidays?


Rosh Hashanah, the “head” of the year, is merely the starting bell. (And I’m leaving out the whole month of Elul with those shofar blasts telling you to get ready, and Slichot services to loosen up the liturgical arm in preparation for pitching the Big One.)

The erev (evening) service on Rosh Hashanah is one of my favorites. Everyone will look tanned and rested in 5771 even more than most years, what with Labor Day still visible in the rear view mirror. And no one is tired of being in shul, yet. This is a festival of meeting and greeting, “Here we go again!”

And then Yom Kippur. Not my favorite; self-denial is not my bag. Still and all, the language of the closing book does work for me. I imagine it rings true to the accountants as well as the writers in the house. Reconcile past debts. Buy a new ledger.

YK is the grand rehearsal for death, what with the prohibitions on food, sex, bathing, leather. (Shoes and belts were ancient symbols of luxury; maybe we should forego Prada and Kate Spade instead?) If those aren’t enough clues, you can wear white, the color of Jewish shrouds. But Yom Kippur is a grim wake-up call, too. By the time you file out of the stuffy sanctuary and head for that bagel, you’ve heard that little voice saying, “This might be your last year. Time to shape the hell up!”

The end of Yom Kippur leaves you empty, hungry, thirsty, and eager for life, and maybe even sporting a little forgiveness from the people you’ve been mean to all year – mostly your family but also that poor lady working the register at CVS at a snail’s pace. (You wouldn’t want your own 70 year old mother standing on her feet like that all day, would you?)

But wait, we’re not done yet. There’s Sukkot, the start of the harvest, the arrival of autumn with the snap, crackle, pop of the school year. New sweaters, apple pie, pumpkin pie, so much to do. Roll up your sleeves!

Finally, and at long last, Simchat Torah, where we start reading the Torah from the beginning. This time with feeling and a little patience for the bloody sacrifices coming in Leviticus. But in the meantime, it’s Genesis time, so generative and juicy, so full of begetting and beginnings. Gardens, families, journeys, mysteries and wonders but contradictions, too. Good for starting the discussion.

But this whole long, long pageant of beginning is exhausting. And very public. And not always so spiritually satisfying.

For that, I take the waters. I get me to the mikveh, to get naked, exhale, and sink; to float and study the leaves visible through high clerestory windows; to empty my head and sidestep my ego.

Water is where everything starts, from our single-celled ancestors to our great-great-grandkids. Genesis itself mysteriously places water in the opening scene; God hovers over it, inspired by the ocean view to make something new. Me too.

I believe in the ocean, the river, the pond and the lake. My days do not begin well without stepping into the waterfall of my shower, or without my cup of coffee, or my walk beside the flowing Charles.

Mikveh is the essential ritual of beginning. Immersion marks the start of married life, and life as a choosing Jew, as well as a renewed return to sex after a menstrual pause. New rabbis, doctors, and college graduates sometimes begin their careers with a mindful walk down seven steps into the water. Cancer survivors and recovering addicts on the precipice of a new month or a new year can make a fresh start in the mikveh, too.

Are you laughing? I start by kvetching about this New Year marathon and end up with another item for the Jewish to-do list. I’m laughing at me, but ….

In a beginning there was the deep, in Hebrew t’hom. Sounds like home. The mikveh feels a little like the womb. But you can’t stay under long, no matter how lovely the sound and sensation of your splashing heart. You have to get out of the water, where the rest of this life is waiting to begin.

May all of our beginnings lead to sweetness.



Full disclosure: I serve as president of the board of directors for the profoundly groovy Mayyim Hayyim Living Waters Community Mikveh in Newton Massachusetts www.mayyimhayyim.org  where you’ll find download-able ceremonies for immersing in preparation for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

2 comments:

Andrea (ace1028) said...

This post is perfect. I don't get to fully experience the holidays as I used to having moved away from my family, but the way you've expressed it, it's perfect. Thank you for sharing! And L'Shana Tova!

elyse walters said...

Thank you for the Jewish Connection blog. (my heart sings from it)

My father died of a sudden heart attack at age 34. I was 4 years old. I'm 58 now, married 32 years.

Max Kushman died in August. By Sept. I sat through my first Yizkor memorial service on Yom Kippur when my feet couldn't even touch the floor. --[remembering my dad].

Yom Kippur is the one JEWISH day I'd fight for above all others if need be. I guess I do get a little serious about this day.
I hope, I pray, I forgive, ask for forgiveness, and remember.

yeah...and I'm sad too!

I'm Jewish. A little Yom Kippur Pain??? [a piece of cake!]...

Shanah Tovah