Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

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Category: spiritual

#BlogElul: What lies between the pages? #takeaseatmakeafriend

August 9, 2013 /
What book has made a profound impact on you? In what ways?

In recent years, I think that one of the books that has made the most profound impact on me, especially in the context of my work as a Rabbi, is a spiritual memoir called ‘Devotion’, by Dani Shapiro.  I shared something about this book in an Elul reflection posted here in 2010.

What was so profound about Dani’s memoir was the intensely honest reflection on a spiritual journey that did not fit neatly into preconceived definitions and boxes. This is, in fact, the case with any personal spiritual journey. Dani’s memoir demonstrates so powerfully how we can gain deep spiritual insight from the close examination of our own lived experiences, as she also explores a variety of spiritual practices that can help us to pay attention in new ways.  Truly allowing ourselves to probe deeply into these experiences requires us to permit ourselves to be vulnerable. And to share these questions, observations, and insights with others can take courage. Dani doesn’t preach; she simply shares her own story and asks her own questions, and leaves you to make up your own mind. Perhaps you, too, will be encouraged to reflect deeply on your own journey. Dani’s experiences taught me that I could best share Jewish wisdom and spiritual practice with others by truly listening to and helping to guide people on their journeys, and only then offering the resources that our rich heritage can provide to meet the specific needs, hopes, and questions of the seeker.  I’d like to think that it has helped me to be a better Rabbi.

So, What book has made a profound impact on you? In what ways?

Overturning DOMA and the blessing of being seen

June 26, 2013 /

This morning I waited until the Supreme Court convened before posting here. Elation is the feeling that many of us whose marriages have not previously been recognized federally are feeling this morning. And for those in California, marriage equality can, at last, be celebrated. For sure, the work is not yet complete – 40 states continue to discriminate against their citizens. But there is no question that progress was made in civil rights and civil law today.

There is so much that could be said this morning. But for me, the blessing that I am recognizing this morning is the blessing of being seen. It is a blessing that each and every one of us, irrespective of sexuality or any other aspect of our identity, can bestow on others, understanding the incredibly powerful impact of receiving that blessing ourselves. It lies behind the central principle of all world religions, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’

Each time I have filed my taxes separately from my spouse, each time I had to apply for the next round of immigration on my journey from rabbinic student to permanent resident and the love of my life was invisible … these were moments when an essential part of my self and my life was unseen. Standing in line to come through security on our way back from a trip and watching the married couple in front of us being processed together and then having a TSA agent insist that my wife and I be processed individually was a moment of humiliation that highlighted how something that is so precious to us is treated as unseen by others. And for anyone who has ever had the experience of being denied access to their loved one’s side in a hospital room, the experience of being unseen is excruciatingly painful.

As Jews, every Passover we announce how we will tell the story as if we, ourselves, personally experienced the Exodus from Egypt; we are called upon to get in touch with the experience and feelings of the journey from having lived a restricted life to entering a new world of freedom. Over and over we are reminded in the Torah to remember that we were once slaves in Egypt as we engage with others that we encounter. Our own experiences of being unseen can sensitize us to the ways in which others often go unseen too: the individual who is sitting alone in the synagogue sanctuary, the child who can’t learn in the same way as others but deserves the blessing of a bar or bat mitzvah and a meaningful Jewish life just the same, the homeless person on the street that we can always greet even when we can’t give, the person sitting in a wheelchair who would like you to look at them and speak to them directly when you are serving them in a store, the cashier in the supermarket who isn’t just another piece of the check-out machinery…

The experience of being fully seen is a holy experience. The philosopher, Martin Buber, might call it an ‘I-Thou’ moment. We often hold back from fully revealing ourselves at the deepest, soul level that truly represents who we are because we are afraid that our gift may be rejected. When another person responds in a way that makes us feel invisible, the pain that results is something that most of us, at some point in time, has experienced. But the blessing that comes with revealing our full essence and being received fully by another human being is a truly spiritual experience that brings wholeness not only to individual lives, but to communities and societies too.

For thousands of gay and lesbian married couples, today is a day when we can celebrate the blessing of being seen. May it propel each one of us to do our part to spread that blessing to all.

Counting up and Counting down

May 7, 2012 /

We are four weeks into the Counting of the Omer, the period of seven weeks between Passover and Shavuot. Once a time of waiting as grain grew in fields, ready for harvesting at Shavuot, this period of time later became interpreted as a time of personal growth.  We move not only from the experience but also the mindset of slavery, to the moment of Revelation at Mount Sinai, understood as a God-encounter where we can be at our most spiritually expansive; exhibited through a refinement of character traits and behaviors that see our actions most aligned with our values and beliefs.

The tradition of Counting the Omer is a practice of counting each day as we reach sundown.  But while each day brings us closer to the festival, the ritual asks that we count up and not count down.  Perhaps this is purely pragmatic.  Shavuot is the only biblically-ordained festival that is not provided with a specific date on a specific month but, rather, is described as seven weeks after Passover.  So we count up until we hit seven.  Perhaps the counting is also symbolic – the sense of moving upward as in a spiritual ascent, just as Moses ascended Mt. Sinai for the Revelation encounter.  But perhaps, also, the upward counting is a way of reminding us to keep moving forward.  Sometimes our life experiences see us looking back, trying to hold on to something that is gone.  We experience the pain of loss, as we should when we lose something, but sometimes the pain stays with us so much longer because of our inability to notice what is right in front of us today.  When we count the Omer, before reciting the formula for announcing this day, we number the previous day.  So, when announcing the arrival of the third day, we would say aloud ‘yesterday was the second day’ and then, after the blessing for counting the Omer, we announce ‘today is the third day of the Omer’.  We recognize that we are formed by our  past experiences, but then we affirm the newness of this day – we will not be defined or limited by our past.  We face today as a new opportunity, with new potential for growth and spiritual expression.

This year, as I count the Omer, I am aware of my own journeying, and the tendencies to look back or look forward, but sometimes forgetting to treasure this very day.  Not long after Shavuot I will be journeying, from Congregation B’nai Israel in Bridgeport CT to Congregation B’nai Shalom in Westborough, MA.  It is a bitter-sweet time.  Looking back, I find myself trying not to count or notice that there is one day less left at B’nai Israel.  It has been such a wonderful spiritual home these past six years, and it is not easy to leave.  And yet, I am thrilled to have been given the opportunity to serve Congregation B’nai Shalom, and each time I return for another visit and meet more people, my enthusiasm grows.  I begin to imagine the work we will do there together.

Looking back… and looking forward… and sometimes forgetting to notice this moment and this day.
Hayom shloshim yom, sh’hem arba’ah shavuot u-shnei yamim la’omer. 
Today is the thirtieth day, making four weeks and two days of the Omer.

The Weiner Saga – what it can teach us about ourselves

June 7, 2011 /

Anthony-Weiner-100x100.jpgThere’s a lot of online chatter, blogging, tweeting, and more about Anthony Weiner’s use of the social network to communicate with women via lewd photo.  If you need an update on the full story, here’s a piece in the NYTimes, and another on The Huffington Post.

So, I want to get my 2 cents in? Well, yes and no.  I don’t think I have much more to add to what has already been said about the unbecoming behavior, the lying, the damage to Weiner’s family (and, particularly, his wife) and friendships, the analysis of his confession, etc. etc.

But I want to look at another aspect of the chatter online.  Because expressing our disgust, our disappointment, and our judgment, while appropriate, is the easy part.  Especially when it involves a public official or celebrity.  The much harder part is to look at our own lives and ask ourselves some of the really tough questions that emerge from stories like these.

Unless you happen to hang with a particularly angelic crowd, how many of us can say that we don’t know someone among our friends, our congregation, or community, who has done something deceptive or foolish in their lives?  How many of us can look in the mirror without feeling embarrassment for a poor judgment of the past?  Whether it was behavior while drunk or high, a lie that had consequences that we’ve never owned up to, an email that should never have been sent, a touch or a kiss that betrayed the trust between committed couples, a full-blown affair or a criminal act … Weiner can be a painful reminder of our own faux pas, or remind us of the pain caused by a friend or family member who did something to cross the line.

I remember that, as a very young child, perhaps no more than 6 or 7, I had a teacher who supervised a sewing activity with my class each week.  We had learned different stitch styles and were making a bookmark.  One week, I made a mistake.  I was so embarrassed by my mistake that, instead of going to the teacher for assistance, I tried to fix it myself and created a big knot in the middle of my fabric.  Then I panicked.  I thought she’d be furious with me if she saw the mess I’d made instead of getting help when the problem was still small.  So I started to feign sickness right before her class, and my grade teacher would allow me take some time out in the fresh air and miss her class.  After a couple of weeks of this, they caught on.  When the confrontation finally occurred, the teacher was mortified that I’d been too afraid to ask for her assistance;  with one snip of the scissors she removed my knot and helped me get back on track.  We had a great relationship from that point on.

Ok, so its a pretty innocuous example, but I offer it more for symbolic value.  What Weiner did was very human.  He messed up.  Yes, he should examine what created his desire to exhibit such behavior in the first place – that is different from my accidental stitching mistake.  But what followed is where the commonality lies, and is not at all uncommon.  Once we’ve messed up, we’re embarrassed and ashamed. We’re fearful of what people will think and say.  We’re fearful of the consequences.  And so we do things in a vain attempt to try and control the situation.  This usually involves a lie.  Sometimes its a total cover-up lie (no, I didn’t do that; my account must have been hacked), and sometimes its a lie disguised as a partial admission of a lesser crime to try and divert attention from anyone discovering the true depths of our deed.  When it looks like we’ve got ourselves into an almighty knot, we try a different strategy, perhaps feigning illness – ‘I wasn’t in my right mind’; ‘I was under a great deal of stress at the time’, ‘I hadn’t gotten over the death of my father’ …

Only when we find ourselves cornered and out of options might we finally come clean and confess.  And we tell people how truly sorry we are.  And its not a false confession.  It might look that way, because it looks like we’ve been lying and were hoping to get away with it.  Would we have confessed if we hadn’t been found out?  Probably not.  But the lack of confession until there was no other choice does not necessarily indicate lack of authenticity.  We are ashamed, we are embarrassed, we hate ourselves for our poor judgment and the hurt we have caused to people we care about, the trust we have lost, and we are disgusted by our flaws and inadequacies that have caused so much harm.  It was all those feelings and emotions that led us to try and cover things up in the first place – out of our desire to nullify the harm and make it all go away.  Hindsight is 20/20, as they say; we did not have the foresight to consider how much worse we were making the knot by our avoidance.

What is true of ourselves also plays out in our dealings with others.  When someone you love is guilty of an act of hurt, or poor judgment, how do you respond?  When they show true remorse and want to do whatever they can to bring some healing to the situation, do you push them away or do you try to make a path for them to do teshuvah – return/repentance?  There are no easy answers; sometimes we have to separate ourselves from an abusive or narcissist personality.  Sometimes we need time to mourn what has been lost – love, trust, friendship – before we can forgive.  But it is always worth taking a breath and a step back and asking ourselves if there is any room for compassion alongside our judgment of the sins of another.

Rabbis, as with all clergy, find ourselves engaging pastorally with people in every aspect of life’s journey.  We seek to help those who have been hurt by another to find peace and to heal, and we seek to listen and help those who have sinned to do the inner work of true repentance, taking responsibility, but also the ability to heal and to move on rather than to carry the weight of their error forever.

So, yes, Anthony Weiner has messed up and, yes, he has more work to do.  But there’s a spiritual lesson here, and its a lesson that requires deep contemplation … for each and every one of us.
Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

Why the repealing of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell is a spiritual matter too

December 18, 2010 /

This Shabbat we were blessed with some very good news from our government.  Finally, the policy, ‘Don’t Ask Don’t Tell’ has been repealed.  This is the policy by which men and women who serve in our Armed Forces who are gay or lesbian could only do so at the cost of keeping this part of their identity secret.  It meant much more than simply not talking about it; it meant being especially careful about where they were and who they were with in public space in their time off too – anything that might be construed as a public revelation of their sexual identity.

Lt. Dan Choi, a courageous advocate for repealing DADT

The Reform movement took on this issue as a social policy matter that our Religious Action Center lobbied on because it was matter of basic decency and human rights that this discriminatory policy be abolished.  But it is also a spiritual matter.  Perhaps what has troubled and yes, even angered, me the most about the debates that have been heard on the Senate floor, is the complete lack of comprehension of what it means to ask someone, and especially someone who lives in the kind of closed environment of an army barrack or base, to hide one piece of the essence of who they are.  Sen. James Inhofe (R-Okla), for example, was quoted in the press as having stated: “I was shocked at how well this has worked for a long period of time,” Inhofe said. “We have a saying in Oklahoma, ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’ Well, this isn’t broke, it’s working very well.”


The Senator clearly has absolutely no concept of what it feels like to be hiding in public as a gay man or lesbian woman.  He clearly has no inkling of the effect it has on the nature of one’s friendships, one’s relationship to parents, grandparents and siblings, to be keeping a piece of oneself secret for fear that the information may become public and bring an end to one’s career.  And the Senator clearly cannot imagine how, when one no longer has to hide, the ability to simply fully ‘be’ is a soul-expanding, spiritual experience.  Whatever one’s faith, the ability to be whole, and the inner peace that comes with a sense of the integration of the parts of one’s life, and the ability to be fully present to others in the sense of the spiritual ‘I-Thou’ relationship that Martin Buber wrote of in his famous book of the same name… this is as central an aspect of the spiritual life as any other I can think of.


I am delighted that this terrible policy is now gone.  I look forward to seeing it bear further fruits as it becomes equally evident that other things denied gay men and lesbian women by the Federal government, purely on the basis of sexual identity, simply have no place in a modern, civilized democracy in a country that claims that all citizens are equal under law.
Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

Speaking to our GLBT Youth – a pledge to do better

October 11, 2010 /

This sermon was delivered last Friday at Congregation B’nai Israel. It is posted on the blog today in honor of National Coming Out Day.

On September 24th the Jewish Standard, the Jewish newspaper of Northern NJ, published an engagement announcement. We get the Jewish Standard because it covers the area where Suri lived until this Summer, and where she still teaches part-time. The announcement caught my eye because one of the young men in the announcement was Avi Smolen, one of Suri’s students some years back, and the son of the past Head of Middle School. And it caught my eye because they were announcing his engagement to another young man, Justin Rosen. We delighted in the announcement. These two young men met at Ramah camp, and both are working or training for professions in Jewish community service.

The following week, the newspaper published an editorial explaining that, after an unnamed group of Orthodox Rabbis met with them, they were apologizing for publishing the announcement, for any pain and consternation it caused, and would not be publishing same-sex engagement or wedding announcements again. Since that announcement, the newspaper has been deluged with letters, has met with a larger group of Rabbis from all denominations, has had this story covered in almost every Jewish publication, and many non-Jewish ones such as the New York Times and the Huffington Post blog. The editors have since stated that they may have been too hasty in their decision…

I think we are all aware, this Jewish story emerged in the very same week that a young gay man from Northern NJ took his own life, and so this story has taken on significance far beyond being a parochial Jewish community issue.

In recent weeks, the media has helped to make us aware of the tragic suicides of several teens. All were subjected to relentless bullying or humiliation and all were gay. The death of Tyler Clementi, a student at Rutgers University, gained most attention, due to the shocking circumstances where two students recorded and broadcast a private encounter to their friends. But there was also Asher Brown, 13, who shot himself when the anti-gay bullying at school became too much for him. Billy Lucas, aged 15, hanged himself in his grandmother’s barn, following unending taunting and bullying at school because of his sexuality. Seth Walsh, 13, also killed himself by hanging, as did Raymond Chase, an openly gay 19-year-old student at Johnson & Wales University in Providence, R.I. Unfortunately, these are not rare occurrences, although they’ve received more attention recently; approximately 1/3rd of all teen suicides are gay teens.

We can all, I’m sure, feel the enormous pain of parents who lose a child this way. We can feel for these poor young men who felt so isolated or humiliated or doubtful that it would ever get better and they would ever be able to enjoy their lives that they were driven to such extreme measures. But, if we really care about these young men and feel pained by these stories, then we have to do something more.

Many GLBT adults have stepped up in just these past couple of weeks, gaining new confidence that there is something that they can do to make a difference in the lives of our youth. Something about these recent events, and the fact that so many suicides were publicly acknowledged in the media in such a short period of time, has enabled a new grassroots response to spring up remarkably quickly. Dan Savage, who is better known as a syndicated sex advice columnist, launched a simple and powerful project called ‘It Gets Better’. He and his husband posted a very honest and heart-felt youtube where they shared that they had both experienced bullying and challenges as awkward teens, but yet they had kept going and made a life, and found each other. Beyond the teenage years, they said, ‘it gets better.’

Dan explained that he realized that we had allowed those who won’t permit GLBT adults to speak directly to teens and who, by doing so, make us invisible, to control access for too long. But today’s technology, and especially youtube and facebook, means that we don’t need to ask permission. Since launching the ‘It Gets Better’ channel on Youtube 2 weeks ago, the channel has been viewed well over 1 million times. Dan’s video has been viewed over ½ million times and there are literally hundreds of short youtubes that have been posted on the channel by ordinary GLBT men and women, including teens and college students, all speaking directly to teens, sharing some of the difficulties they went through but telling them that they are not alone, help is available, and things will get better.

Turning to Judaism, and the Jewish community … what is our role? Aside from offering a social commentary, why is this Shabbat sermon material? The Union for Reform Judaism, the Religious Action Center, the Central Conference of American Rabbis, and NFTY have done much work in recent years to ensure that Reform Judaism stands for Judaism that is welcoming and open to all, where everyone is seen as an equal with a God-given soul, and where no-one should have to hide some aspect of that soul and essential self in order to belong and fit in.

In addition to the advocacy of the movement for civil marriage for all, equal protections in the workplace, and equality recognized in all aspects of Federal and State law, we understand, as Reform Jews, that an essential aspect of one’s spirituality and religious expression is deeply connected to being able to feel whole. Being open about who one is, and who one shares their life with, is an aspect of that spiritual wholeness. And so, for Reform Judaism, the inclusion and equality of the GLBT community is a matter of religious and not only social or political significance.

When one is talking about the spiritual, there is nothing so painful and jarring as looking at the face of suicide. People can endure terrible things, but when the spirit is crushed and one feels so deeply trapped, it can seem that there is only one way out. When the spirit is so utterly crushed it can seem impossible to reach out and seek help.

That is why we must do more to ensure that the GLBT experience is a visible and explicit part of our communities – school communities, youth communities, and religious communities.

Now, I know that it must seem to many of you that this is something of a non-issue at B’nai Israel; after all, here I am on the bima addressing you all this evening. Suri and I publicly celebrated our marriage with this congregation this Summer, and we were delighted to share that with our community.

But the truth is, even I am self-censoring in how and when I share this aspect of self. Someone who is heterosexual doesn’t usually hesitate to refer to ‘my wife and I’ or ‘my husband and I’ in the normal flow of conversation. A heterosexual norm is implied and not something worthy of special attention when a man says ‘Susan and I saw a great movie last night’, or ‘My wife and I just returned from a fabulous vacation’. Yet, when I open my mouth, I am always conscious that these basic sentences are potentially charged, depending on my context. Each time I am potentially ‘coming out’ and each time, in so doing, I am making homosexuality a visible rather than invisible part of the everyday landscape. And there are many times when I self-censor and question whether it is wise or appropriate to do so. I think this is because, to some degree, I, like many other GLBT people, carry a degree of internalized homophobia where to say something that is a completely natural flow of conversation for a heterosexual person becomes ‘making a point’ or ‘pushing a homosexual agenda’ or is, in some other way, seen as a political act beyond simply mentioning who you went to the movies or on vacation with.

And one of the places where I self-censor the most is with our youth. I worry about whether their parents will react. I worry about whether I’ll get pigeonholed as ‘the lesbian rabbi’ and what that will mean for my ability to reach people and do my job. But what I have come to realize in these past few weeks is that this self-consciousness and self-censoring in certain situations essentially makes me invisible as an example of a GLBT Jew to some in our community. And that is what the Jewish Standard in NJ is doing when it decides that it will not publish our engagement announcements. When Suri and I wrote our letter to the newspaper, we acknowledged that we had been guilty of waiting for someone else to be the ‘first’; we didn’t want to draw attention to our celebration, the way that others delight in a NY Times listing, or an announcement in a community newspaper. And, in so doing, we have failed our teens.

Last night, at the temple board meeting, we voted to sign Congregation B’nai Israel on to a pledge from Keshet, a Boston-based grass-roots organization committed to the full inclusion of GLBT Jews in Jewish community. The full text of the pledge is on our Temple website, and specifically on our GLBT outreach page. The pledge reads as follows:

Do Not Stand Idly By: A Jewish Community Pledge to Save Lives

‘As members of a tradition that sees each person as created in the divine image, we respond with anguish and outrage at the spate of suicides brought on by homophobic bullying and intolerance.

We hereby commit to ending homophobic bullying or harassment of any kind in our synagogues, schools, organizations, and communities. As a signatory, I pledge to speak out when I witness anyone being demeaned for their actual or perceived sexual orientation or gender identity. I commit myself to do whatever I can to ensure that each and every person in my community is treated with dignity and respect.’

Our congregation has had a GLBT outreach group, Kulanu, for nearly 7 years. Some of its members are known to you, and others are not. We run a program for BIFTY almost every year, and we aim to run an educational event for the whole congregation each year. We are available as a resource to any adult or teen who needs support, and both Rabbi Prosnit and I want to be there for anyone who is struggling with their sexual or gender identity, experiencing homophobic bullying, or is a parent wanting to know how to help their child. We also want to celebrate with you as you recognize your true self and God-given soul; Rabbis in our movement have written blessings for coming out, for it is indeed a blessing to feel more complete and whole for who you are. This Monday is National Coming Out Day – we want to celebrate the diversity of identity that is part of the tapestry of humankind, and not only mourn the tragedies.

I pledge to do better by our teens. The cost of invisibility, whether in society at large, or the Jewish community in particular, is just too high.

My Bat Mitzvah Miracle: In solidarity with Women of the Wall

December 26, 2009 /

Tonight’s blog, in solidarity with Women of the Wall, is written by Barbara Levine:

Most of my life I was religiously non-observant.   Born Jewish, growing up in Brooklyn NY, I was connected Jewishly in my heart, but not ritualistically.  After marriage and children, we moved to Connecticut and eventually joined B’nai Israel. I almost never went to services – not even on the High Holy days. My children grew up at B’nai Israel since we wanted them to have the Jewish education I never had.  Each  had a Bar or Bat mitzvah. I was then, and remain to this day, very spiritual  in my outlook.  
After Rabbi Prosnit became our Rabbi, I began to study with him and questioned ‘why should I be Jewish’ as a faith.  I already believed strongly in God and prayer. But I hadn’t felt a comfortable fit within any worship community.  I felt challenged by Rabbi and committed myself to attend Friday night services every week for a year, no matter what.
I remember feeling uncomfortable and afraid, thinking people would notice and question, ‘why is this woman coming here all of a sudden?’  I thought they knew each other  and would see me as the outsider – the interloper.  Instead, after less than a month, I realized that I was a regular and loved services.  The clergy and others saw me as one who could be counted on to be there.  For over 10 years morning or evening I rarely missed a service or weekly torah study. I belonged and people knew me.  It was a good fit!
After much time and study, I decided I would attempt to have a Bat Mitzvah.  Cantor Gilbert believed I could do it even though my paralyzed vocal cord inhibits my ability to speak loudly, much less chant.  My portion in Vayetze – Jacob’s dream meant a lot to me.
Before the Friday evening group Bat Mitzvah service, I went to the local mikvah for the ritual of purification by immersion in water. I had wondered what the mikvah experience felt like.  This was a perfect time to do it.  Basya, a very pregnant busy mother with many children, was the mikvah attendant.  I was overwhelmed (in a good way) by the loving, caring attention I received from her. We spoke about my expecting a miracle that my paralyzed vocal cord would be healed, in front of the congregation, when I got to chant my Torah portion. I believed God might  heal my voice from weak and gravelly to strong and melodic thus inspiring whoever was there.  She disavowed me of that belief in a very loving way and showed me that just because Ithought God would want to use me for a miracle, that might not be God’s plan.  Her words of wisdom astounded me.
The Bat Mitzvah was wonderful and many of my loved ones – family and friends were there.  My voice remained the same.  But I was overjoyed and uplifted, not disappointed.  Over time I recognized the many real blessings I received.  I had my miracle.
Later, I wrote about the mikvah experience and my Bat mitzvah for the Jewish Ledger and Reform Judaism magazine.  Still later (perhaps 2 or 3 years on), I was at a lecture sponsored by Ahavas Achim (the local Orthodox synagogue).  I got to talk with the guest speaker and somehow she heard that I had written the article about the mikvah experience.  I was really surprised she was so excited to meet me.  She then shared that she and others had read my article about the kindness and wisdom of the mikvah attendant and the Many Blessings of my experience.  She used my article to convince many Orthodox, and other women, to go to the mikvah.  And she thanked me!

15 Elul. Beginner’s Mind – Renewing our days as of old

September 3, 2009 /

There is a line of prayer that we recite many times over during the High Holydays. We also sing these words every Shabbat when we return the Torah to the Ark. And the original source of the words are from the end of the book of Lamentations (5:21). These are the words:

Hashivenu Adonai eilecha v’nashuva
Chadeish yameinu k-kedem

Take us back, O God, to Yourself, and let us come back
Renew our days as of old
(translation by Rabbi Zalman Shachter-Shalomi).

Reb Zalman, in a booklet published by Aleph on Teshuvah, teaches a way to understand those last few words, ‘… as of old.’ So often, when we know we have done something wrong, one emotion connected to our desire to do teshuvah is to wish we could return to the moment right before the deed. Like a child who breaks a vase in the house, who tries to reassure their father, ‘I’m going to be ok, I’m going to be good now, daddy’. Some of the prayers of the high holydays, when read at face value, can feel a bit like this. We feel the shame of the acts, and the remorse, but the High Holydays offer the potential for something much more. In fact, many Jews think of these days as being all about guilt – understandable given the tone of much of ancient liturgy, but unfortunate because a different approach could leave us feeling truly joyous.

A higher spiritual level of doing teshuvah requires us to address the motivation that led to the act in the first place. Rather than focusing only on the deeds, we are called to look deeper at our patterns and intentions. When we come to know ourselves in this way, and re-enter a scenario with the awareness and intention to act in a way that is more God-centered, we open ourselves to what Zen practice calls Shoshin –  ‘beginner’s mind.’ To do so requires an awareness that the way we responded to a situation before, based on our own histories, experiences, assumptions, etc. is not a given. If this was the only way we could experience and understand our world, how would it be possible to change the outcome were we to return to a similar situation in the future? But by knowing our habitual tendencies, understanding when they do not serve us or serve God, we can truly begin the year anew, with new possibilities opened to us.

Experiencing the world with ‘beginner’s mind’ – returning to a place before our past behaviors interrupted our ability to ‘tune in’ to the spiritual homing signal that our soul emits – this is a truly freeing, joyous experience. Much better than brooding on all that guilt!
Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

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