I don’t consider myself someone who prays. The language of prayer never did much for me with its patriarchy and relentless repeating of praising a God in whom/which I did not believe. But ever since I was a child, I always valued poetry.
Poetry ticks a lot of the boxes for me that prayer ticks for others. I love the sacredness of special language in which each word is special and resonant. I love the rhythm and repetition. I love the imagery. I love the evocation of emotion.
It’s nice that in the age of Instagram poetry is making a bit of a resurgence, with poets like Rupi Kaur creating a stir and causing many many youngsters to fall in love with the written (and spoken) word.
There are some new-to-me poets I just love, and delight in having discovered recently (check out the poet Maya Stein who sends by email a new ten-line poem every Tuesday).
And then there are the poets whose work I keep coming back to, again and again, always with a new resonance for the time and space we are in. Poets like Adrienne Rich, WB Yeats, Olive Senior, Raymond Carver, Mary Oliver.
Many of you might know Mary Oliver, and many might know her famous poem “Wild Geese.” I returned to it recently and, oh, does it ever seem extra poignant given our current circumstances.
It isn’t a prayer (or is it?) but it feels like one to me. And I’m grateful for these words and for my returning to them. I offer them to you, now:
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Mary Oliver
Wild Geese
Until next week,
Denise
Going on a “chametz” hunt! (AKA let’s get our sh*t together this Passover)
As we prepare for Passover which starts tomorrow evening, we might be thinking about how to make the holiday meaningful this year, when we can't do the typical seders with our families that we may be used to.
One way is to join a virtual seder (there are enough options for one each day — or you can check out the one Secular Synagogue ran and follow along!)! Another may be to focus on the themes of oppression and freedom, the purpose of Passover, and how you can work for freedom this year. Some of us are doing a #donatethedifference tzedakah (charitable) donation. The idea is to take the money we may have spent on hosting big dinners or purchasing host gifts etc and donate that money to a worthy cause instead.
Another opportunity our current reality provides is doing a different kind of "clean out". Many Jews search their homes high and low for "chametz" - bread/unkosher food. Even the smallest crumb must be burnt. My house is not fully kosherized for Passover (my husband, who isn't Jewish and loves sandwiches at least as much as he loves me, wouldn't be on board).
The "chametz" I want to clear out this year is anything that isn't serving me as I adjust to this new reality. I am taking the opportunity to purge documents or work files I don't need, etc. Some do a full spring cleaning around Passover and now that most of us are at home a lot more, it's a great time to Marie Kondo your living space and get rid of stuff that doesn't "spark joy."
Some of us are also cleaning out our social media feeds. You can "unfollow" or mute people who are posting news from untrustworthy sources, who are fear-mongering, or who are for any other reason not helping you at this time. I cleaned out my social media feed of stuff that tends to stress me out -- even news/media sources. I consciously check the news once a day instead so that it isn't overwhelming. The truth is, social media can be an incredible connector, especially now. I realize there are problems with Facebook, Zoom, and the rest — stealing our data and exposing us to weird ads. But we can control a lot of what we see and put out there via social media. Make it a “space” that you are proud of and that serves you.
Finally, take this time to clean out your own thoughts via journalling, meditation, talking, or simply breathing. If you have been stressed out, anxious, overwhelmed, that is all normal and ok. It is also possible to start to try and feel a bit better. Focus on the present, on what you can control, and on what you have to be grateful for. Sometimes the cleaning out we really need to do is of our own negative thoughts. As we head into this Passover, ask yourself: what is no longer serving me? What can I let go of?
I wish you a beautiful and meaningful Passover!
Until next time,
Rabbi Denise
PS: I was recently on this beautiful radio show Tapestry, speaking about how to make Passover meaningful now. If you want to give it a listen, it’s the second half of this episode: https://www.cbc.ca/radio/tapestry/soundtrack-for-the-soul-featuring-hawksley-workman-diy-digital-passover-seder-1.5519104
PPS: Secular Synagogue is still welcoming new members for this cohort but our doors close soon. Get in touch if you’d like to learn more!
On Compassion
Did you know that the word for compassion in Hebrew (rachamim) is rooted in the word womb (rechem)? This is not to say that women are more naturally compassionate, but some Jewish thinkers suggest that when we show our compassion and mercy (the word is used for both), we are giving birth to goodness in the world.
This month I took an online course on Radical Compassion with scholars like Tara Brach (meditation/compassion researcher), Kristen Neff (self-compassion work), Jon Kabat-Zinn (Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction - MBSR), and others. One of the themes that came up again and again was how we need to find compassion for ourselves in order to find compassion for others and, if we are serious about compassion, that compassion has to extend to those with whom we disagree. .
One of the speakers was Krista Tippett from the podcast On Being (which I love and recommend!). She spoke about how we are now engaged in a kind of political trench warfare. We are dug in, stuck, no way to reach the other side.
Pursuing the difficult work of self-compassion I tried to look at things I’ve done that I’m not proud of and forgive myself (the sort of teshuvah work we do at the Jewish High Holidays). I also tried to think of and connect with people with whom I disagree to see if we could find some common ground. Is this easy? No! I hate it! :) But is it important? Yes.
Another really difficult challenge is sending compassion out to people who do bad things. We may not like their choices or behaviour, but it helps to try and seek out their motivation and, despite feeling angry or hurt, connect with their humanity.
I did a little Shabbat Live video on Jewish connections to compassion (click here to see it) and then a funny thing happened: someone created a fake email for me to try to swindle some of my congregants out of money as part of a large-scale scam (you can read more about that one here). I did not love that experience. But what an opportunity to practice radical compassion! I tried to imagine why someone might do this. I tried to tap into the hurt of those who were scammed and send them positive thoughts. This was a terrible thing but/and it’s also wonderful to think about the fact that the reason this scam worked was that so many Jewish people take seriously our ideals around charity/giving/justice. They respond when a rabbi wants to help others. How nice! And the people in charge of the scam? I can’t believe they are really happy and healthy individuals. Only hurt people hurt people. So I sent them some positive thoughts too.
We all wish to be understood. We all could do with a little more compassion. There are many Jewish teachings about compassion but I’m choosing to focus on the root (literally) of the word. What could we birth in ourselves if we showed ourselves more compassion? What could we birth in the world if we gave more compassion to others?
This was my beloved bicycle and someone stole the back tire. When I went back to retrieve it the whole thing had been stripped down to almost nothing. Sending compassion to the bike thieves as well as all those who have had their beloved bikes/bike parts stolen!
When you’re supporting someone who is grieving
Recently several people in my community reached out to me because they had lost someone close to them. In all of these cases, funnily enough, they were not one of the principal mourners, but were supporting those who were. It got me thinking about how many of us end up in this role, and sometimes often. We have resources, Jewish and otherwise, to help people in mourning. How do we support those supporting them?
This question also got me thinking about how we'd define someone in mourning in the first place. All of these people are grieving too but/and feel they shouldn't be the centre of the grief. Not wishing their grief to eclipse that of the person they are supporting, they might conceal or even try to suppress their own grief.
These questions got me thinking further about what we mean by grief in the first place. It's not just mourning someone after a recent death. Many of us are grieving in different ways for extended periods of time.
I love this piece "Everyone Around You is Grieving; Go Easy". We never know the burden someone near us is carrying. For those supporting someone who is mourning or grieving I suggest the following:
-Make time and space to listen
-Avoid trying to "make it better" (particularly for Humanists it is awfully irksome when someone offers "they're in a better place" or "everything happens for a reason")
-Take care of practicalities: cook the meal, handle the arrangements, do the dishes, watch the children
-Simply ask what the person/people need for support (this could include watching bad movies, making a photo collection, telling stories about the person who died).
For all of us, at any time, let's remember that there are people around us who are grieving and we don't/can't know! So here are my tips for us all:
-Be kind as much as possible
-Be patient whenever possible (Handlarski is working on this one!)
-Handle it. You know when there's something blocking the road or a mess to be cleaned up and we wonder who will deal with it? That person can be us
-Leave good reviews/feedback and, in particular, name the staff person who was helpful
-Periodically offer your community via social media, email, phone calls, or letters, the opportunity to connect. Let people know they can reach out to you if they need a friendly ear
-When you know someone needs a little help, provide it.
We can all be the soft place for someone to land. We all need those soft places sometimes too. The more we all give it, the more we all can get it. If you’re supporting others, make sure you also take time to get the care you need.
If you are grieving or hurting, you can reach out to me. I'm happy to listen!
Forgiveness: It’s Complicated
We are now in the final lead up to the High Holidays. Jews around the world are getting ready for difficult conversations with friends or family, preparing to apologize for wrong-doing and preparing to forgive others. Some Jews are participating in services called selichot — where prayers of repentance are recited. Selichot means forgiveness, although when people speaking Hebrew apologize they often say “slicha” which means something like “pardon me.” Asking for and granting forgiveness are good and healthy acts. We ask people to forgive us all the time... when we step on toes (literally or figuratively), when we cause pain (intentionally or unintentionally), when we do something wrong. We also forgive people all the time. Often when someone says “sorry” the reply is “it’s ok.” And sometimes it really is ok.
But sometimes behaviour is really not ok, and that’s what I want to speak about today.
I was asked recently how to approach the upcoming High Holiday period, with its focus on forgiveness, if someone does not speak to their family because it is unsafe to do so. For some people, their family is unsafe emotionally. For some, they are unsafe physically. Sometimes it’s both. If someone has decided that they simply cannot have contact with a family member or, with or without that contact they simply can’t forgive past wrongs/behaviour, they probably have a damn good reason (what I write here can apply to relationships that aren’t familial too — partners/ex-partners, friends, co-workers, etc).
We live in a culture that is obsessed with forgiveness. We get told that to hold a grudge only harms ourselves and not the person who did wrong. We get told that to forgive will make us feel good, or whole. We get told that life is too short to hold onto hurt. Those ideas may all be true in some circumstances but they can also put a whole lot of pressure on someone who has been hurt, abused, mistreated, or harmed. Sometimes it’s ok not to forgive. Sometimes it’s healthy. We are not responsible for the hurt others cause us.
I do suggest finding ways to process past harm. Therapy, writing a letter to someone who has harmed you (whether you send it or not), self-care, working to undo painful/harmful messages we’ve internalized, all of that is useful. We don’t have to stay in the place of being hurt/harmed. But we also don’t have to include forgiveness in the package of how we prepare to move on. If someone has done something unforgivable, it’s not on you to forgive it. It’s on you to figure out how you want to move forward, with or without that person in your life.
We sometimes hear stories about people who offered forgiveness in unimaginable circumstances. If that helped the person who was wronged, then the act of forgiveness is worth celebrating. Sometimes we really do need to forgive in order to move on. Equally, sometimes we need to let go of the pressure to forgive in order to move on.
I don’t think this time of year is just for apology and forgiveness. It’s for figuring out what we need, who we want to be, and who we want with us on the journey. It’s a time for considering what we owe others in terms of apology/restitution, and what we owe ourselves in terms of healing from the past. I think of the High Holidays as a time to decide what we are letting go of from the past year(s), what we wish to carry forward, and what we wish to start doing/being. Forgiveness is one part of that package and process. So is self-love. Often the person we have to forgive the most is ourselves. So, if you are struggling with any sense of guilt over being unable to forgive someone, I suggest that be one of the things you let go of. Be kind to yourself, especially if others have not been.
We are not responsible for the behaviour of others. We are responsible for ourselves. No one is owed your forgiveness. You owe yourself all the tools you can find to be well and happy this coming year.
Till next week,
Denise
Global climate strike, Judaism, and YOU
I am feeling powerfully inspired by Greta Thunberg and the work she is doing around climate change. Her journey started with her skipping school every Friday to demand climate action from politicians. When she was challenged and told she should be in school, she would reply that school was meant to prepare her for a future that is now uncertain due to climate change. So if the grown ups aren’t going to do their jobs, why should she do hers?
She’s right.
You know who the grown ups are? Us. We are the grown ups. And we have to do something right now. The truth is that there is very little we as individuals can do to halt climate change (my goals are eliminating single-use plastics and moving to a plant-based diet — some of the best things we can do as individuals). The change needs to come from industry (and the governments that regulate industry), particularly around fossil fuels. But we as individuals can put pressure on those industries and governments. We can stand with Greta and say that we can’t continue on with business as usual.
Some folks have asked me why this is an issue for a rabbi to take on at all. Well, several reasons. Firstly, my Judaism is connected with my belief that we are here to make the world better. Judaism enhances my life/our lives and, in turn, we are empowered to bring more goodness to the world. These values are rooted in Jewish texts and teachings. It’s the whole “why” of Judaism, as far as I’m concerned. Secondly, the reason I affiliate myself with secular/cultural Judaism is that I am a believer in science and evidence. A lot of the climate change deniers are affiliated with the Christian Right. If one believes the world was created by a god in six days, six thousand years ago, then it’s not a surprise that they also believe that god can fix said world or that whatever happens to it is god’s will. But those beliefs are, well, wrong. Where religion comes up against our best science I’m going to choose science every time. That also is part of my Judaism.
And so, my fellow grown ups, I want to know what you are doing to ensure a future for our kids and grandkids. Here is a place to start. On September 27th there will be rallies and marches for climate justice all over. I’ll be at the one in Toronto, marching with Shoresh (check out Shoresh.ca for awesome Jewish environmentalist initiatives). I’d really love company. Please hit reply right now and tell me you’re coming with me. If you’re not in Toronto, I’d love to know where you’ll be marching?
On September 27th let’s show the world that this is not business as usual.
Oh, and this is right before the Jewish New Year of Rosh Hashanah. Am I usually frantically busy at that time? I sure am. Am I making time for this? You bet. I can’t think of a better commitment at the time of year when we contemplate rebirth than doing my part to protect the planet.
See you on the 27th!
Till next week,
Denise
I Heart Hashem and Humanism
I was recently at a retreat for Rabbis Without Borders. This is a program that offers rabbis selected for their innovative work. We get training, opportunity for study, and the chance to form collegial relationships with rabbis across the Jewish spectrum. I knew I would be the only Humanistic rabbi there. I approached the first retreat last spring with a little bit of trepidation. Sometimes people, especially rabbis, in other movements, are not very friendly to us. I can take it — Humanistic Jews are built tough. But, still, four days of it (and these days run from 7:30 am - 9:30 pm) could be a little wearing.
The rabbis, however, were overwhelmingly kind. And curious! The truth is, they know a lot of their own community members are more like us than like “them” in some ways. There are so many people who don’t find prayer meaningful. So many Jews who would call themselves atheist/agnostic/cultural/secular/spiritual but not religious. They want to learn from me how we do what we do. I’m proud to represent us.
I also learn so much from them. There is so much creativity and innovation out there. I hope you’ll come to upcoming programs where I get to showcase some of what I’m learning and put it into action.
One thing that has been especially touching, is that I have formed a bond with an Orthodox rabbi named Isaiah. He is a really interesting guy — he grew up in the Chasidic community as a Jew of colour. He is a fantastic musician (you can check out his band Zayah online). He runs programs for Jews and for rabbis to try build bridges in the Jewish world. What he sings, and teaches, is very theistic in nature, of course, but he is often driving at the same overall messages as I am. It’s all about kindness, tzedakah, joy, meaning, beauty.
I was voluntold to lead a service at this past retreat. The idea is to showcase how one’s movement does it, or highlight one’s particular style. At the spring retreat many rabbis said they’d love to see Secular Humanistic Judaism in action. So I agreed to lead a morning service this time around.
Something you may or may not know about me is that I am not a good singer. I see this as a strength; you should always feel comfortable singing if I’m around because you’ll never be the most tone deaf person in the room! However, when leading a service, I need back up. I asked Isaiah to help me by playing guitar and singing. The songs were Hine Ma Tov and the Humanistic version of Refuah Sheleimah, the song we sing to wish others healing.
Isaiah didn’t plan to subvert my message or anything. As I mentioned, the days at the retreat are long. And so he rolled out of bed and put on a shirt without much thought. The shirt said: “I (heart image) Hashem”. So there we were, co-leading the service, a Humanist and a Hashem-worshipper. The service itself was completely secular.
Afterwards, some people asked me if I was offended. I said, “of course I’m not offended!! I’m delighted!” Imagine a world in which we all helped one another live out our beliefs and values, even and especially when they contradict our own, in the spirit of cooperation and caring. I think Isaiah did something wonderful: he showed others what it looks like to be a helper, a friend, and a mentsch.
As we move into the colder winter months, and we begin to hunker down and hibernate, remember Isaiah and I, up there on a bimah, singing (one of us badly) together, delivering a message of hope and healing. Who can you reach or reach out to in the same spirit?
Rosh Hashanah sermon - Can a Humanist Be Happy?
This was the Rosh Hashanah commentary from the service at Oraynu Congregation for Humanistic Judaism, September 2018 (5779). Note: it followed the reading of Jeremiah 31: 2-20, which is traditionally read on Rosh Hashanah.
Stop me if you heard it: The Brandeis University rowing team has failed every time. They send an observer to watch the Yale and Harvard crew teams, and he reports back, "guys, we're doing it all wrong. We need EIGHT people rowing and ONE person yelling!" This joke works because of the stereotype that Jews yell, disagree, can’t steer together.
Jeremiah tells us that when the exiles return there will be immense joy, there will be celebration, there will be singing and dancing. Mourning itself shall turn to joy. But, with respect to Jeremiah, as the people who are more likely to call out “oy” than to experience “joy” we are perhaps still waiting for the prophecy to come true.
Quick exercise and please try not to overthink: If you have children or grandchildren in your life: what’s the one thing you want most for them in their lives?
And here’s one for you? What do you want for your life most this year?
Do the answers match up? #1 answer when parents are asked what they want for their kids is not a fancy job, or a spouse, or wealth. It’s happiness. When we set our own goals, they are often for these parts of life that we think might make us happy, but usually we do not set out simply to be happy ourselves.
Paul Golin, the Executive Director of our movement organization the Society for Humanistic Judaism, was here this past June. He asked what job Judaism is doing in our lives, which I think is a really worthwhile question. It’s a question I put to you. I answered that I thought Judaism could be a force to make people’s lives happier, and Paul was surprised. He said something like, “wow, happy. I never considered happy. I’m not even sure I’m capable of happy. What I have is something more like righteous indignation.”
If you know me at all, you know I’m actually quite a fan of righteous indignation. I believe we are living in an incredibly pivotal political time and the very real fights we face around climate change, racism and discrimination, sexism and sexual violence, immigration and refugee rights, food security, and many more, are deserving of our fervour, our ferocity, and our fury. I’m a big fan of anger when it motivates us to act. I think we are entitled to be angry — there is a lot going on that should make us angry. But when you think about what you want for the children and grandchildren in your life is it to walk around being angry all the time? Of course not. We need to find a way to balance the righteous indignation with the joy. Can a Humanist be happy? I sure as hell hope so!
You are likely familiar with Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. The bottom of the pyramid is filled with things we need to survive: food, shelter, water. As we go up the pyramid there are things like love and belonging. Further up is esteem, and the highest need we have, a need we are capable of achieving only if all the other needs are met, is self-actualization. I like a lot of what is in this theory, but I have two criticisms: firstly, while it is important to focus on the self, I believe we as humans actually need to focus beyond our selves. There is nothing on that pyramid about doing good, pursuing social justice, helping others. I think if we are to truly reach self-actualization we have to look outwardly as well as inwardly. The second criticism I have is the shape... the pyramid. Maslow suggests that we can’t focus on love and belonging until we have basic physiological needs met. I disagree. I think people who do not have the basic means for survival often experience incredible love and feelings of belonging. I also think the love and belonging help us find the tools to survive, for we are motivated by our own survival and that of the people we love.
I’m going to return to some of these concepts, particularly love and belonging, esteem, and self-actualization. I think they are key to our happiness as individuals and as a people.
But first I want to explore more about why this happiness thing is so hard to come by, perhaps especially for Humanistic Jews. Partly it’s that most of us do not believe in a grand plan, in fate, in things being by design. When someone believes in those things, I think it is easier to resist despair. We not only have no faith that these things will all turn out fine because they are preordained, but we don’t necessarily have faith that the humans on whom we rely have the will or the skill to address the challenges we face.
I think there is something cultural at play too. In Michael Wex’s book “Born to Kvetch,” he discusses how Yiddish encoded something in the Jewish psyche. He says Yiddish is not a “have a nice day” language. One doesn’t ask “how are you?” Because the answer will be “how should I be?”
And yet there are examples of Jews who make happiness their mission, sometimes literally. The Chasidic movement is so successful because it has a goal of making Jewish practice extremely happy and joyful, almost frenetically so sometimes. The Chasidim sure bring the party, and you know what? They’re right. There is much with which I disagree in Chasidic and other branches of Orthodox Judaism. But Chasidism got the joy piece right. Why be or do Jewish if it doesn’t help make you happy? I stand by my answer to Paul Golin. I think Jewish identity, practice, ritual, and experience can absolutely help you up Maslow’s ladder, from offering love and belonging, to reasons for self-esteem and the esteem of others, and to self-actualization. Judaism also helps with the social justice piece that Maslow forgot.
I’ve been thinking and reading a lot about happiness. We have traditional sources on this.
The Mishnaic sage, Ben Zoma, expresses it very succinctly: Eizehu ashir? Hasame’ach bechelko. “Who is rich? He who is happy with his share.” Good advice.
Anne Frank noted, “We all live with the objective of being happy; our lives are different and yet the same.”
And many people who are not Jewish have much to offer in understanding how we can increase happiness in our lives and strengthen the link between doing Jewish and being happy.
In The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, we learn techniques that Rubin tried for a year to help make her more happy, a project she claims was successful, she is truly happier now. I’m a fan of Rubin’s. I get her daily “moment of happiness” emails with a quotation about happiness or something meaningful and I find it helps me start my day. One of the biggest takeaways from the Happiness Project for me, is one of the simplest. One of her rules for happiness is, “Be Gretchen.” She writes about how she always felt insecure about how she didn’t particularly care for music. She saw how much meaning it brought to others. She wanted to like it. She tried to like it. But she doesn’t really like it. She is happier focusing on the things that really are suited to her. In all things, be Gretchen. Or, you know, insert your own name. Later in the service we’ll here of the midrashic Zusya, a story from our own tradition with a very similar moral. Be yourself.
How does that map out Jewishly? Well, focus on the aspects of Jewish culture and practice that are meaningful to you and here’s the real trick: DFBA - don’t feel bad about it! If you are the kind of Jew who could not care less about Torah/Tanakh ( Tanakh is the Hebrew bible... like what we read from Jeremiah..) if you just went to sleep - if you’re that kind of Jew- guess what? DFBA! It’s ok! It’s better than ok! You now know your link to Judaism isn’t bible. But you’re here - so what is it? Personal betterment and fulfillment? Community and the traditions and people of our ancestral past? Social justice? Judaism has something to offer as we seek all of these things, and also shows us how these things connect. So, be Jewish your way. Be Gretchen or, rather, be you.
Last year I spoke about belief, behaviour, belonging. I returned to the concept a few weeks ago when reading Brene Brown’s Braving the Wilderness, a book that I wholeheartedly recommend. In it, Brown speaks about the human need for belonging — the middle of the Maslow hierarchy. Brown’s definition of “true belonging” is: when we are truly and authentically ourselves and feel accepted.” But, of course, we won’t always be or feel accepted. So we must foster self-acceptance... it is a book for what she called outliers. Those who buck trends. Those who, in her words, brave the wilderness.
“True belonging” — makes me nervous. It sounds and feels a little too much like True believer. Our community is a community of misfits, skeptics, and outliers. I wouldn’t have it any other way. We have found each other in the wilderness. I love that metaphor because it reminds me of Passover - the Exodus story (sorry for the bible-haters...) of Jews who wandered for 40 years. And still we wander... outliers.
The wilderness for Brown is being an outlier; being brave enough to stand up and stand out from the crowd. In her words, “Belonging so fully to yourself that you’re willing to stand alone is a wilderness” (49).
That’s us in multiple directions: some here left traditional Judaism and found this form of it which feels more authentic. Some left a family or community of disconnected Jews and found us and increased their Jewish experience and engagement manifold. Some married or partnered into Judaism and discovered us. But, for most of us, choosing to be in a Humanistic Jewish space on the high holidays is a sign of our outlier status. My mission is to help my community brave the wilderness - to lend support and foster community around the idea of being in the wilderness, a lonely, scary, but also beautiful space, open with possibility.
We have to sort out where we stand alone and where we stand with others. Brown notes that:
“True belonging is the spiritual practice of believing in and belonging to yourself so deeply that you can share your most authentic self with the world and find sacredness in both being a part of something and standing alone in the wilderness. True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are; it requires you to be who you are” (196). Be Gretchen.
Braving the Wilderness talks about the how of being true to oneself and being in community and society with others — I’ll take that up on Yom Kippur when I discuss “civility, certainty, divinity, diversity.”
Some of Brown’s best tenets are: “people are hard to hate close up. Move in.... Speak Truth to BS, be civil... Strong Back, Soft Front, Wild Heart.” (7)
I love this last one best of all. We need a strong back to carry the load of working for justice, speaking our truth, being who we are. We need a soft front to stay vulnerable — it’s hard being truly who we are out in this harsh world. The soft front makes us loving, open, available. And the wild heart. If I could wish one thing for you this year, it’s this wild heart. What would or could you do with this year if you listened to your impulses? If you pursued an unrealistic dream? If you gave generously, danced maniacally, laughed and loved exuberantly?
Her book ends (spoiler) with a sentiment I feel is perfect for the start to the year:
“There will be times when standing alone feels too hard, too scary, and we’ll doubt our ability to make our way through the uncertainty. Someone, somewhere, will say, ‘Don’t do it. You don’t have what it takes to survive the wilderness.’ This is when you reach deep into your wild heart and remind yourself, ‘I am the wilderness.”
I connect Brene Brown’s words with the reading of Jeremiah. The idea here is that we are coming out of the wilderness and so will rejoice. I’m thinking though that we never really come out of the wilderness. I think most of us are stuck in one wilderness or other for a long time. There is no true Promised Land. I’m not speaking of the dream and vision for the state of Israel precisely, but we can go there for a minute. It’s clear that there is more to do. We can apply this to our own lives too. With respect to Jeremiah, I’d like to invert the meaning of the passage: I don’t want to wander through the wilderness and expect joy on the other side; I want to know how we bring the joy to the wilderness.
Does being the wilderness, or being in the wilderness, make a person happy? Partly. It means that we are struggling for something, and often that something is beautiful and precious. Braving the wilderness gives our lives meaning, and meaning is key to happiness.
Tal Ben-Shahar, a Harvard professor focusing on positive psychology, notes in his book “Happier,” that we have words like “pleasure, bliss, ecstasy, and contentment” which “are often used interchangeably with the word happiness, but none of them describes [it] precisely (4)”.
In our service we note that there are many words in Hebrew for joy; these are part of the seven wedding blessings: gila, rina, ditza v’chedva.
All these words... but identifying a true definition for happiness still seems so elusive. I generally see myself as a happy person, but I’m so often not *aware* of being happy. Mostly we all just feel sort of regular. People who are generally unhappy are likely much more aware of it, but even they might sometimes experience pleasure, bliss, gila, rina, etc and not take stock of those feelings or how those feelings are aiding in increasing their overall happiness.
Ben-Shahar says that rituals help aid happiness (8), which is part of why it’s so important to mark holidays like this one, including all of the attendant rituals we experience here and at home — reading Torah, lighting candles, apples and honey. These are all part of what is happy-making about holidays. The specific experiences bring us joy and meaning, and the rhythm of the ritual happening annually also increases our happiness because it offers both the comfort of regularity and the excitement of the special — we do it every year but only once a year. For Ben-Shahar the real ticket to a happy life, or at least a happier life, is when our lives are filled with both pleasure and meaning. We need a mix of both pleasure and meaning for our lives to feel happy because either one alone is not enough. All pleasure all the time might sound good, sometimes it might sound really good!, but ultimately we get bored, feel unfulfilled, and cannot serve others if we are only about our own immediate pleasure. All meaning all the time feels a little weighty. We need time to let go, recharge, enjoy the fruits of our labour. Where pleasure meets meaning is where we can start to find real happiness.
When I ask you what your goals are for this year, maybe some are about pleasure: vacations you want to take, experiences you want to have with special people, etc. And maybe some are about meaning: social justice work you will pursue, career goals and milestones, working on developing or sustaining close relationships. All of these are worthwhile things to focus on this year. Sometimes we feel our dreams or goals to do with pleasure are too frivolous, unserious, undeserving of our attention, our money, or the sacrifice of others. “What right do I have to take off for the weekend with my girlfriends when I have a full house and a full inbox?” But what happens if we don’t focus on our own pleasure? We resent the people in our homes and those at the other end of the emails.
You may have heard me say before that I try not to tell people that I’m “busy,” but rather that my life feels “full.” It really does! I feel so grateful for meaningful work, meaningful family, meaningful friendships, meaningful ideas I get to read, discuss, and contemplate. I really do have a full house and a full inbox. Does this fullness leave me feeling fulfilled? Sometimes yes and sometimes no. The fullness of it all can certainly lead to overwhelm, which I know is something many of you experience.
To be happy, we need the meaning and the pleasure. My best moments are ones like this when we are together, enjoying, truly enjoying our holiday, our community, our time to focus inward. There is a lot of pleasure here (at least I hope there is!). We even have honey cake afterwards! There is also, I like to think, some real meaning. I often feel happier after having attended a service or celebrated a holiday. The meeting of pleasure and meaning is why.
So, my challenge to you is finding out ways to bring pleasure and meaning together more often. I’m not saying that because I like you and so I want you to be happy. I do like you. I do want you to be happy. But it’s not just for you. I want you to be happy because I know that a lot of hurt is happening in our world right now. I know that when we are happy, when we are moving through the world like we love ourselves, we are more likely to bring happiness to others. We are certainly less likely to cause harm to others.
The happiest people I know are also the most generous, most giving, most caring. They can afford to be this way because they operate from a place of abundance and not scarcity. I want you to be happy because I know that if we could harness the power and potential of everyone here today when we are at our happiest and strongest, we could achieve incredible things in this world. And this world certainly needs us now.
As I look around, I see wilderness. I see pain, fear, hurt, anger. Lots of searching. Lots of frustrated wandering. The story of our people is this story. And we know what to do with it. The Chasidim know, the wedding couple filled with gila, rina, ditza knows, when we think of what we wish for our children and grandchildren, we know. Our lives must be purposeful. To achieve self-fulfillment, the highest level for Maslow, and to reach a happy life, a high value in and of itself: we need all of it: joy, anger, righteous indignation, struggle, meaning, purpose, pleasure, wilderness. I wish you all that and more this coming year. Shana tova u’metukah. May it be a very good, very sweet, and very happy year for you and yours.
