High Holy Days 5774:Who Causes the Wind to Blow and the Rain to Fall

Ordinarily, on Shemini Atzeret--the eighth day of lingering--at the end of Sukkot, we add t'filat ha-geshem--the prayer for rain--to the Amidah, which is the standing prayer in the daily services.  It is considered bad luck when the rains come early, and make it difficult to dwell in the Sukkah--the harvest booth--as is commanded during the Feast of Ingathering Harvest.

 Geshem continues to be said across the winter until the spring Festival of Pesach is celebrated, when the summer blessing for Tal--Dew--is added and Geshem is retired until the next Sukkot Holiday. This corresponds to the seasons of Israel, wet in the winter and dry in the summer. 

This year. even as the Holy Days came early in the solar year, Rosh Hashanah starting on the evening of the 4th of September, so too did the rains come early. Or in our case, the monsoon stayed late, making holiday travel as difficult for Jews in Catron County, New Mexico, as it was for the Jews of Judea in the days of old when farmers were expected to build their Sukkot on the hills surrounding Jerusalem.

We had planned to attend High Holy Day Services in Flagstaff, at the little Heichal ba-Oranim synagogue, where we had gone last year. I was looking forward to finally being able to join that congregation, now that the house in Sedillo is under contract, and we are able to make the necessary contributions. We have been without a home synagogue for more than a year, and we were looking forward to making a commitment and enjoying a pleasant holiday in a very haimish shul. 

Alas, it was not to be. As September came, a new and very wet monsoon plume settled over the Southwest. Predictions of thunderstorms and flash floods became a daily reminder that our roads could become impassible in no time at all.

 Rosh Hashanah itself was partly cloudy, but the threat of rain made us decide to stay home lest we not be able to get back should the rains come.  We had a festive meal with all of the traditional foods on Erev Rosh Hashanah, and we prayed the evening service on the porch.
 The next morning, we again prayed on the porch, the sun dancing with the clouds as I proclaimed: Ha-yom harat olam!  This is the day of the world's birth! And the Engineering Geek blew the intricate set of Shofar calls three times: once for Creation, once for Memory, and once for Revelation. The sound of the Shofar rang out across Freedom Ridge, and the horses raised their heads, the dogs barked, and the cows began lowing. The hawk soared and circled on the wind, unconcerned. 

In the afternoon, we did leave for a drive around Big Lake, where the EG and my nephew skipped stones on the water after we cast our bread upon them in the ancient and fanciful ceremony of Tashlich, a casting away of the old and inviting in of the New Year. I have always thought that Tashlich is simply an excuse to take a walk on Rosh Hashanah afternoon, after a long morning service. It began to rain as we drove back along the county road to the ranch. Second day, and thunderstorms near candle-lighting for Shabbat. We missed the Sacred Assembly on the first and second days of the Seventh Month entirely. 

On Sunday after a day of rain, I drove out with the EG behind me in the Dodge Ram in case he had to pull me out. After slipping and sliding down the county road,  I went to Albuquerque for class, and to take care of some business. And on Tuesday, the rain set in there. It rained all day. ALL DAY. A record rainfall. I came home Wednesday, between storms. The road was soft, and there was water in the arroyo, and I drove on the high spots between ruts. Thursday, the rain began in our part of the state, and we knew that there would be no travel to Flagstaff for us. Friday, as I prepared the pre-fast meal, I read about the flooding in Colorado on the internet.

Just before sunset, we invited Yitzak Pearlman to perform Kol Nidre via YouTube.
All vows that we make between this Yom Kippur and the next . . .
Then candle lighting, and the evening service. I sang the parts of the service we could do without a minyan.
 Lightning played across Freedom Ridge as we let the dogs in and began the Al Chet. 
 V'al kulam eloah s'lichot . . . for all these, O G-d of Forgiveness. . . 
and the electric lights flickered along with the candles. A bolt of lighting. Almost simultaneous thunder. And the lights went out, leaving only the flickering candles.  
Lev tahor b'ra-li, elohim . . .create in me a clean heart, O G-d . . . our shadows large upon the eastern wall in the candle light. Sometime in the night, the candles went out and the electricity was restored, but we were sleeping and the next light we saw was a pearly, gray dawn and ragged clouds scudding across the sky, driven by a wet wind. 

We dressed again in white. No leather, no grooming. For the first Yom Kippur day of my marriage, I did not see my husband--Reform Princeling that he is--in a dark suit, starched white shirt and somber tie. As we sat on the couch and read aloud from Climbing Jacob's Ladder: One Man's Journey to Rediscover a Jewish Spiritual Tradition the clouds gathered in the south. "Wind from the South has water in its mouth'\," chanted the EG, as the sky darkened and the rains began.
All that day, as we prayed in the cool, shadowy living room in stocking feet, our tallitot wrapped for warmth and the feeling of being enfolded by Shechinah--the Indwelling Presence--the rains came in sprinkles and soft curtains, now and again hiding the Red Hill.

Morning Service.
"Let us proclaim the sacred power of this day:
It is awesome and full of dread . . .
On Rosh Hashanah it is written, on Yom Kippur it is sealed. . . 
Who by fire, and who by water, who by sword and who by beast . . ."

Additional Service. And a short walk in the sprinkling rain.
Resting on the porch, still well wrapped.
Memorial Service.

Afternoon Service. The Ten Martyrs.
Eili tzion v'areha . . . For Zion and her cities I mourn 
like a mother in her anguish,
 like a woman who mourns the husband of her youth.  
I mourn the exile of the servants of G-d,
makers of sweet melodies,
v'al dama asher shufach . . . their blood poured out like Zion's streams. 

And all that day the rains fell, weeping like Rachel for her children . . .
For we did not know, cut off in the sacred silence of that day, that in Colorado, in New Mexico, in Catron County, the flood waters were rising, and in the Blue River Canyon on Catron's border with Arizona, people were lifted out by helicopter and brought out on bulldozers. And it rained. And rained.

Neilah. The Closing of the Gates. 

"This is the house of G-d.
This is the gate of heaven . . . 
El norah alila . . . G-d of awesome deeds, 
grant us pardon . . . b'sh-at neilah . . . as the gates begin to close.
Avinu malkenu . . . let the gates of heaven be open to our prayer . . .
let the new year be a good year for us . . . make an end to all oppression
upon us . . .be our help. 

And the rain stopped. And we stopped to say the blessing for the Rainbow
 as the last rays of the setting sun shone across our valley.
". . . zocher ha-brit . . . who remembers the covenant . . .
Seu Sha-arim roshechem . . . Lift up your heads, O Gates!
Ha-shem, hu ha-elohim. . . 
Seven times and the last long blast of the Shofar.
We thought of it happening hour after hour as the world turned from day to night.
All those at the Wall.

Havdalah. 
"Blessed is the One who separates the holy from the ordinary,
light from darkness, the House of Israel from among the peoples. . ."
And the candle is extinguished in the sweet wine, the taste of which is on our lips.
And the lamps are lighted.

Motzi.
". . . who brings forth bread from the earth . . ."
Sweet round challah with raisins. 
Cream cheese.
Salmon. 

We broke the fast, and eating and drinking, we once again consider the goodness of the ordinary riches of our lives. 
"For I saw how good it is for [man], and beautiful, to eat and drink and know goodness for all his work that he does under the sun . . ."  

We had good holidays. It was still beautiful and filled with meaning that we made, though we missed the beauty of being in the midst of the holy congregation.
But the rains kept us off the roads and in our home. 
We made the best of it and we did well. 

We are soggy, and today I bottomed out the car in the arroyo, and had to have it towed because the box that monitors emissions and engine codes came loose. 
We have rutted roads, a few wash-outs, and full streams.
But no helicoptors or bulldozers.
We have electricity.
We are well.

It's raining again.
The water-pouring of Shemini Atzeret comes a little early.
Blessed is the One who causes the wind to blow and the rain to fall.
Geshem. 
We wanted rain and we needed rain. 
Everything is green, even as the Aspens are beginning to turn gold.
But maybe, just maybe, it's time to build an ark? They need one in Colorado, Northern New Mexico, and on the Blue River.
What's a cubit . . . 

Walking the Thin Line: Elul 5773

 

“I, I Am the One that comforts you; who are you, to be afraid of man that shall die, and of the son of man that shall be made as grass. . .?”

--Haftorah Shoftim, Isaiah 51:12

 

“Righteousness, righteousness shall you pursue . . .”

--Parashat Shoftim, Devarim 16:20

 

“Walking the thin line, between fear and the call; one learns to bend and finally depend on the Love of it all.”

--Noel Paul Stookey, For the Love of It All

The month of Elul started last Monday at sundown, on Rosh Chodesh, the sixth New Moon from the New Year for months.

My Elul dream this year came late, on Wednesday night, and without clarity or drama. In fact, I really don’t remember it at all, except that I dreamed of the current rabbi at our former synagogue, and of a neighbor in need of help finding a lost cat. I awoke to Tippy, my guardian Border Collie cross, pawing at my shoulder in the middle of the night. She feels it is important to awaken me when something unusual is going on. I went out to see an elk buck with eight points standing in the meadow in the deep darkness under a setting Big Dipper handle. Tippy did not bark at the elk this time; she seemed to think the elk belonged exactly in that place. She just wanted me to know he was there and awakened me to see him standing.

 

I don’t have a ready interpretation for the fragment of a dream or the meaning of seeing the elk standing in his place. Their significance escapes me, except that as I stood gazing at the elk in the starlight, I remembered that it was now Elul. 

This Shabbat, as the Engineering Geek and I sat down to study Torah, I was struck by two statements that jumped off the pages and into my mind, one from the beginning of the Parashat of the week, and one from its Haftorah. As I turned them over in my mind, I realized that the two of them together represent that place I have been for the last half-decade: I have been “walking the thin line between fear and the call” as Emmy Lou Harris sings in the Paul Stookey song, The Love of it All.

 

The Torah portion for the first Shabbat in Elul is Shoftim, which means “judges” or “chieftans” in Hebrew. In the first paragraph, which deals with how judgment must conform to justice, we read:

“You shall make for yourselves judges and officers in all your gates, which Adonai your G-d gives you, tribe by tribe; and they shall judge the people with righteous judgment: you shall not pervert justice; you shall not respect persons; neither shall you take a bribe, for a bribe blinds the  eyes of the wise and perverts the words of the righteous. Justice, justice shall you pursue, that you may live and possess the land that Adonai your G-d is giving to you.”

 

צֶדֶק צֶדֶק תִּרְדּף Tzedek, tzedek, tirdof

The call at the beginning of the Month of Elul—the beginning of the season of our turning, is to pursue justice or righteousness. In Hebrew, the words are the same. Justice means to make a judgment according to honor, standards or the law, meting out to every individual what is right according to his or her rights and actions. Our rabbis taught that there is the justice of the streets—the righteousness with which we must treat every person—and the justice of the courts. If we fail to act with justice in all of our dealings on the streets, then justice must be adjudicated in the courts. In his commentary on the Torah, Joseph Hertz, Ph.D., who was the Chief Rabbi of Britain in the early 20th century, points out that in this sense, the Hebrew understanding of justice differs from the Greek. He wrote that in the Greek, justice implies:

“[A] harmonious arrangement of society, by which every human peg is put into its appropriate hole, so that those who perform humble functions shall be content to perform them in due subservience to their betters. It stresses the inequalities of human nature, whereas in the Hebrew conception of justice, the equality is stressed.”

--Soncino Press Pentateuch and Haftorahs: Hebrew Text, English Translation and Commentary, J.H. Hersch, Ed., p. 821

This is the case because in Hebrew thought, every human being is made in the image of the Eternal, and his life is unique and precious, possessing, as he does, a spark of Infinity. Therefore, as Hersch continues, every person has “the right to life, honor and all the fruits of his labor,” (p. 821). For this reason, Jewish Law demands that every human being be treated with honor in the streets, and with righteousness in the courts.

But if the call of Elul is to justice, then the burden of answering it is fearful, as the prophets show us. For to behave with righteousness towards everyone in the streets and to mete out equal justice in the courts, flies in the face of social conventions and political correctness. One must honor truth, consider the facts, and render judgment accordingly in all dealings. One may not condemn the rich man because he is rich nor excuse the poor man because he is poor (“you shall not respect persons”), and one may not base how one treats another on gifts or flattery (“you shall not take a bribe”). For this reason, acting with righteousness and justice is likely to get a person in trouble socially and legally in an unjust society. And as we currently live in a society that no longer makes judgments based on righteousness and law, but does so on the exigencies of political correctness and the whims of men, acting with justice is a difficult and dangerous thing.

 

And herein lies how I, among others, have been “walking the thin line between fear and the call” as we recognize the truth of what is being done to our civil society and to its values and law. For in my determination—made every Rosh Hashanah for the past four years—to honor the truth and act righteously, I have said and done things that have earned me the anger and contempt of friends and acquaintances. Sadly, this has ended many friendships that were based on my former habit of ignoring the reality of growing differences between our worldviews. Some of the ways in which those friendships were ended, and the accusations leveled against me, have cut me to the core of my being.

 
And in my weaker moments, I am afraid that in stepping out beyond the lines of political correctness and social  and legal convention, I will be harmed not only socially, but financially and/or physically. Because making a stand for plain old justice in a world of collectivist notions of “social justice” is no longer simply bad form, but with the oppression of the surveillance state and the police state being created and solidifying with terrifying rapidity, it is downright dangerous. Speech and action that now can cost one her dignity, property and perhaps, her liberty, may soon cost one her life.


And that fear causes me temporary confusion and wrong action. It creates doubt in my mind and silence in my mouth. And so the Haftorah Shoftim, the fourth in the seven Haftorot of Comfort, also comforts me:

“I, I Am the One that comforts you; who are you to be afraid . . ?

“. . . And where is the fury of the oppressor? He that is bent down shall speedily be loosed; and he shall not go down dying into the pit. Neither shall his bread fail.”

I know that I am one small person. I know that I can err in knowledge, and that I have indeed done so, espousing bad causes and supporting bad means in the name of what seemed to me at the time to be good ends. Moreover, I have obstinately continued in bad courses because I did not have the courage to admit that I was confused, or lacking in knowledge, or that I was downright wrong. And in so doing, I have excused the guilty and harmed the innocent. Of this, I am not proud. 

But to paraphrase Julian of Norwich:

He did not say “You shall not screw up.” He did not say “You shall not be discouraged.” He did not say:\ “You shall not be harmed.” But he said: “You shall not be overcome.”

I suppose what that means is open to interpretation. To me, it means that trials and troubles, and even harm are not the worst thing. The worst thing is to lose one’s honor and integrity; to lose one’s identity and one’s very soul. And if I persist in finding righteousness and doing justice, turning and returning again to walk the thin line, then despite any shame or harm done to me, I will remain who I am, and that is the greatest value to me.

The name of the month of Elul is an acronym in Hebrew that stands for Ani l’dodi, v’dodi li—I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine. Elul is the point of turning and returning again in the dance of Shekinah, She who dwells with Israel in our exile, in our eternal betrothal with the Master of the Universe. And here, in my own dwelling place, Elul is the point of turning and returning again in my dance as a Jew, longing all my life for that moment of loving kindness, that betrothal of righteousness and justice, that Place, that shelter in the rock, where I get a glimpse of all of G-d’s goodness passing before me.

 

“For the Love of it all, I would go anywhere; to the ends of the earth, Oh, what is it worth, if Love would be there?

Walking the thin line, between fear and the call; one learns to bend and finally depend on the Love of it all.”

 

It is the love of it all—of life and being—that unites the call to justice and righteousness with the will to overcome fear and fills my heart with strength for the journey. And year after year, I turn and return again to the call in the dance of Elul. I come again to Makom, the Dwelling Place of Israel, only to know that I have been here, walking the thin line, day after day, year after year.

 

So. Maybe I can construct the meaning of Tippy’s silence as she brought me to see the elk. He was standing within his place, his Makom. And so am I, walking the thin line. Here, in this place between fear and the call, is Makom, the Presence of the Eternal. As Israel learned in her exile, as Isaiah reminds Jews to this day in the first Haftorah of Comfort:

הִנֵּה אֱלֹהֵיכֶם

Hinei eloheichem

Here is your G-d.
 

Technorati Tags: Elul,Jewish Identity,Torah Study,T'shuvah

For All Our Christian Friends and Neighbors . . .

From Ragamuffin House to Your House . . .




Have a Happy Christmas and a Prosperous New Year!

I have wonderful childhood memories of Vince Guaraldi's Linus and Lucy.

Memorial Day: Freedom is Not Free

The sun has returned today, after three days of clouds and rain.

So today, as we go about our picnics and barbeques, shopping and summer fun,

we will pass by Old Glory, flying in breeze outside Ragamuffin house,

and take a moment to remember those

who gave their lives in battles on American soil, and in foreign lands.

Freedom is Not Free

by Kelly Strong

I watched the flag pass by one day.

fluttered in the breeze.

A young Marine saluted it,and then he stood at ease.

I looked at him in uniform,

So young, so tall, so proud,

He'd stand out in any crowd.

I thought how many men like him

Had fallen through the years.

How many died on foreign soil?

How many mothers' tears?

How many pilots' planes shot down?

How many died at sea?

How many foxholes were soldiers' graves?

No, freedom isn't free.

I heard the sound of TAPS one night,

When everything was still

I listened to the bugler play

And felt a sudden chill.

I wondered just how many times

That TAPS had meant "Amen,"

When a flag had draped a coffin

Of a brother or a friend.

I thought of all the children,

Of the mothers and the wives,

Of fathers, sons and husbands

With interrupted lives.

I thought about a graveyard

At the bottom of the sea

Of unmarked graves in Arlington.

No, freedom isn't free.

Picture Credits:

Soldier Salutes Flag in Iraq, Baristanet

Bugler at Memorial Service, Vietnam: Army Quartermaster Museum

Patriot Days

It is instructive that as I sit facing my calendar, I see that although April 27 is marked as "Freedom Day (South Africa)", the 18th and 19th days of April are not marked at all, and this on a calendar that was "Printed in the United States." It is somewhat reassuring to note that July 4 is marked as Independence Day, and the independence days of other nations are so marked, but it is disconcerting to see that Constitution Day, September 29, is also missing from this calendar.

I will not be purchasing another calendar from this particular publisher.

For to celebrate the 4th of July without marking the day upon which the fight for our liberty had its inception, and the day upon which that liberty was guarranteed by law and oath is to turn it into a holiday with no roots and no wings. By tearing Independence Day out of context, we are throwing the real history of our freedom down Orwell's fabled memory hole, perhaps out of some misplaced politically correct version in which Liberty can be achieved by proclaimation without revolution and the rejection of tyranny.

On the 19th of April, 1775, the Militias of Lexington and Concord took up arms against King George's Redcoats who had come to confiscate their arms, cannon and powder. The British Regulars, under the command of General Gage, had blockaded the Port of Boston, occupied the Town of Boston and placed its denizens under martial law because of the tax resistance of colonists that culminated in New England with the Boston Tea Party in December of 1773.

In addition, the British Crown had confiscated the property of the individuals, quartered their troops in the houses of the citizens, and suspended trial by jury, subjecting the people of Boston to military tribunals.

It is instructive to remember that these violations of the rights of Englishmen were the reason for the American Revolution; the cause for which Colonel Parker and his Militia "fired the shot heard 'round the world." These violations found their way into the Declaration of Independence in the listing of the "crimes of the king" and they were answered in the Bill of Rights, the first ten Amendments to the Constitution. The Founding Generation had direct experience with the coercive actions of a central government whose power went unchecked. They challenged that power by taking up arms to defend their rights first at the Green at Lexington.




And it is instructive to note that those first patriots stood by that "rude bridge that arched the flood" to defend the right to keep and bear arms, a right that was affirmed as the second amendment, not because people like to hunt for sport, but because the founders knew that it might become necessary to defend those rights against an oppressive central government once again.




Today many Americans are waking up to the fact that we have an oppressive central government: An Executive Branch that has been busy accruing power to itself over the past decades; a Congress that no longer properly represents us, but usurps our property rights through confusing and unconstitutional legislation; courts that have ignored the Constitution they are sworn to uphold by making decisions that clearly violate the meaning and the intent of the founders, thus violating our rights. We intend to defend our rights in a peaceful revolution of the ballot box and the soapbox. We earnestly pray that we never have to take up arms against the government established to serve us and protect our rights.


And today, on that sacred ground of the Green at Lexington, we were assured that there are those among our military services, our militias, and our peace officers, who intend to stand by their oath " . . . to protect and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic . . ." The Oathkeepers stood today there at the cradle of our Liberty and proclaimed the ten orders they would refuse to obey. They did so because most of these illegal orders have been given in recent history in the United States, and shamefully some of their own have obeyed them.



Many citizens who are not in the services took the opportunity to swear the same oath this Patriot Day, vowing to uphold the Constitution of the United States, so pledging "our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor."




Given the peril to our Constitution, which has been growing over our own lifetimes, there may be many Patriot Days to come; days upon which we will be called upon to risk our lives and our fortunes in order to uphold our sacred honor.


"The tree of Liberty," we were told, "Is nourished by the blood of patriots."

I most sincerely hope that for our generation, as we work to restore our Constitution, these words are figurative rather than real.

Dreaming of a White Pesach?

NEARLY WORDLESS SPECIAL

When Pesach comes in mid-April, we really don't expect this.

Not even at our elevation.

Dawn, April 9, 2009--15 Nisan 5769: The first day of Pesach

We had a light dusting of snow overnight. The day was cool and windy.

Shabbat morning, April 11, 2009--17 Nisan:

Rain in the night, followed by sleet and freezing rain.

Shabbat afternoon, April 11, 2009:

Very wet snow and freezing rain alternated all afternoon. We were feeling sorry for our Christian neighbors as the Saturday afternoon Easter Egg hunt in the park was called off.

Sunday morning, April 12, 2009:

We went to sleep to clearing skies.

We awoke to more snow on the ground,

and snow falling,

wet and heavy.

Sunday, late morning:

A few inches of snow on the ground, the temperature is hovering right at the freezing point here, with a cold wind blowing.

I hear it snowed in town.

Happy White Pesach to those celebrating the Festival of Unleavened Bread, as we are!

Happy White Easter to our Christian neighbors.

Spring is just around the corner. Really.

Birkat HaChama: Blessing for the Sun

This morning I was up before dawn as per usual on the morning of the night of the first Seder, but this morning was different from all other first Seder mornings.


This morning, as the Boychick and I walked the dogs and watched the sunrise, we added a special blessing to our usual blessing when the sunrises. This is the Birkat HaChama--the Blessing of the Sun. We said:


"ברוך אתה ה' אלהינו מלך העולם עושה מעשה בראשית"
"Blessed are You, LORD, our God, King of the Universe who makes the works of Creation."


This morning at dawn, tradition tells us, the sun returns to the place in the machzor gadol--the great cycle--the very place at which it was created in space. Thus, according to the Jewish calendar, this occurs on a Tuesday every twenty-eight years. As in all things Jewish, there are minority opinions, and debate.


But it is a beautiful and pleasant custom that makes this Pesach different from all other Pesachim! May we all still be riding the machzor gadol when the day comes to make this blessing again, in 2038! And let us say, Amen!

Zissen Pesach!

Rosh Hashanah 5769: Earth Abides

"Welcome, Star of Life, Center of the Year!"

--Ursula K. LeGuin, City of Illusions

It is the dark of the moon.

Tomorrow evening, as the sun sets, we will end the month of Elul and the year.

At sunset, we will enter the month of Tishrei, Rosh Hashanah 5769--The New Year for Counting Years.

The phases of the moon guide the circle of our Jewish year, and help us mark the times and seasons of our lives.

But the rising and setting of the sun, and the locations of the rising and the setting also help us mark the year.

And sunset is the beginning of the day, as it is written:

"And evening came, and morning followed. The first day." (B'reshit).

(Picture: Sunset on the Summer Solstice 2008).

So at sunset tomorrow night, we will begin to celebrate HaYom harat Olam--the birthday of the world.

This year, as the gates of time are opened for the Days of Awe, we also enter the year of completion for the Jewish Cycle of the Sun. According to the Rabbis of the Talmud, on a Tuesday evening every 28 years, the sun is once again in the place it was created.
(Picture: Sunrise on Winter Solstice 2007)

Astronomically, the Birkat HaChamah occurs as if the solar year was exactly 365.25 days long, and there were no precession of the equinox--so that the sun is at the same position relative to the plane of the ecliptic--as signified by the mazzarot, the zodiac-- every 28 years on a certain Hebrew day at sunrise. The Rabbis calculated this date according to the short cycle of 19 years for the intercalation of the solar and lunar year multiplied by the long cycle of 28 years to determine the year one for this counting. This 19 year cycle is based on the Saros cycle in which the sun, moon and earth return to the exact same location relative to each other in 18 years and 11.3 days.


This year, 5769 which corresponds to the Solar Western Year of 2009, is a year in which we conduct Birchat HaChamah--the blessing of the Sun.
Like all Jewish ideas, this one has controversy surrounded when this blessing should take place. One Rabbi said Rosh Hashanah--the Birthday of the World (when the sun was said to have been created). Another Rabbi said that it should be on a Tuesday evening in Nisan, the New Year for Months, in the season of Pesach. Since Pesach occurs near the vernal equinox, that is the customary day to make the blessing. This year, it will be on April 8 at sunrise.


I like the idea of Blessing the Sun at the same time as we mark the Birthday of the World.
Regardless of when we bless, however, this is a special year to mark the central place our star has to the theromodynamics that make for life on our planet, Earth.
(Picture: Sunrise on the May Cross-Quarter, 2008).

Human beings, ever astute astronomers, have used the cycles of the sun and moon to develop calendars. In this way we mark the times and seasons of the year, so that the linear progression of our lives is marked against the circles and spirals of planetary time.


Not only is the sun is the center of how we count time, the Circle of the Year, but all of the abundant energy for the earth's dynamic systems come from our beautiful yellow star of life. Even the fossil fuels we use to warm ourselves in winter are simply ancient sunlight caught up in carbon bonds.
(Picture: Sunrise on the February Cross-Quarter, 2008).





Plants capture photons--quanta of energy--from the sun, and use that energy to bond carbons in glucose,
which is, in turn, burned inside the bodies of all living things, to provide the energy of life.
From fire to matter, matter to fire, so our lives are fueled.
Just as the Creation of the Universe began with the Burst of Energy that propelled the expansion of Matter, more prosaically, it is the energy of the sun that began the earth's dynamism more than four billion years ago, and provided the motive power for the evolution of life on earth.
(Picture: Sunrise on the Autumnal Equinox 2008).

So I rejoice as I mark the mythical Birth of the World this year for having lived to mark the second Birkat HaChamah of my life. Life and the evolution of awareness of life--composed of elements made in stars and pieced together in our bodies by the energy of our Star of Life--how miraculous it is!

On Rosh HaShanah, we will say the morning blessings including:

"...with goodness the Eternal renews the work of creation continually...Blessed are You, Eternal One, who forms light."
(Picture: Sunset on Autumnal Equinox, 2008).

And in April, we will remember the cycle of sun, saying: "Praised are You, Sovereign of the Universe, who continually renews the work of creation."

And in this new year, I will think of Kohelet: "Men go and come, but Earth abides."

May we all be renewed and inscribed for a good and sweet New Year, as the gates of time open against the seasons and cycles of the years.

When Hannukah Comes (Early) Right on Time

The other day, as I was struggling with my paper, I said to my husband, Bruce, "Am I dreaming or does Hannukah come early this year?"

As he began to answer, N. piped up with: "Hannukah comes right on time every single year."

And of course he's right. It comes exactly when it is supposed to come according to the Jewish calendar.

Hannukah starts at sunset Tuesday (tomorrow!) night, because that is the beginning of the 4th day of the week, and the 25th day of the month of Kislev.

That the 25th day of Kislev happens to be 11 days earlier on the solar calendar this year than last is not a problem for the Jewish calendar. It is a problem for those of us who live both the Jewish and the secular calendars.

The Jewish calendar has evolved to be a lunisolar calendar--or a lunar calendar that is intercalated with the solar year. This has to do with the origins of the Jewish people. As we say every year at Passover time, "My father (Abraham) was a wandering Aramean..." As a desert people, a lunar calendar made sense. You can see the moon wax and wane, and the length of time of a quarter is about 7 days. (It's actually a bit more, but it works well enough). Thus the seven day week, as well as the concept of Shabbat--one day in seven to rest--is brought to you by the Jewish people.

But as our history changed, we began to need to count our days according to the solar year, the cycle of the earth around the sun. This is because our wandering shepherd people left the desert and the three black ones--shade, dates, and water--behind, coming into the land of Cana'an, met and married with settled people who lived in towns and farmed the land. A farmer has to know when to plant and when to harvest, and the lunar calendar cycles completely around the solar year over time, as the Islamic calendar still does today, over a period of about 33 years.

There are twelve months in the Jewish year, and each one is either 29 or 30 days long, depending on the actual time of the new moon. The current names for the months were borrowed from the Babylonians during the time of the Babylonian exile, and reflect the Babylonian Zodiac, which has also become the Hebew Zodiac. The picture to the right is of a mosaic on the floor of the 6th Century (CE) synagogue at Bet Alfa, Israel.

But there is a problem. The Shaloshim Regalim--the pilgrimage festivals, are all agricultural as well as religious, and the dates must fall during a certain phase of the moon as related to the solar year. For example, Passover falls on the first full moon following (but not on) the vernal equinox.

Prior to the Babylonian exile, the Hebrew year began with Aviv, the month of spring, and this is still the new year for counting months. And the word Aviv, now translated as "spring," originally meant "beginning the barley harvest." So the priesthood simply added a month whenever it was clear that the full moon that would be Pesach would be too early for beginning to harvest, and the roads would be too muddy for the pilgrimage to Jerusalem.

After the Roman wars and the beginning of exile, this became unwieldy. So instead, a series of calculations were done by the Patriarch (Nasi) and the Sanhedrin, in order to set the Jewish year so that it would be uniform throughout the world. There was great complexity in these calculations, since the Hebrew year must intercalate with the solar year, and certain Holy Days must not fall on Friday or Sunday, and certain festivals must match the seasons. The rules of the calendar came into place throughout the Talmidic era, and all of the evidence shows that before the time of the 10th century CE (921) Saadia Gaon (Genius of the Talmudic Academy of Sura) they were all in place.

The rules of the calendar were codified by the Rambam (Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon), aka Maimonides in Greek (Just to make things more interesting, he had an Arabic name, too, since he was born in Cordova, Spain, during the age of Islamic rule) in 1178 CE. About the problem of the intercalary he wrote:

"By how much does the solar year exceed the lunar year? By approximately 11 days. Therefore, whenever this excess accumulates to about 30 days, or a little more or less, one month is added and the particular year is made to consist of 13 months, and this is the so-called embolismic (intercalated) year. For the year could not consist of twelve months plus so-and-so many days, since it is said: throughout the months of the year (Num. 28:14), which implies that we should count the year by months and not by days." (The Sanctification of the New Moon).

The picture is of a manuscript by the Rambam, written in Judeo-Arabic with Hebrew letters.

So now, the Jewish month begins approximately one day after the newborn moon, when the crescent can just be seen in the sky. This is because, although we calculate the months astronomically, in the old days it was declared by the Kohen Gadol (High Priest), and later by the Nasi of the Sanhedrin. And seven times during a cycle of 19 years, we add an extra month just before the month of Nisan (the Babylonian equivalent of Aviv), making a Jewish "leap month."

This year, 5768 is a leap year in the Jewish calendar, so next year the Holy Days will be "later."

And this is why Bruce, N. and I had a conversation about Hannukah, which feels early this year.

But of course, it starts right on time, at sunset tomorrow night, the beginning of the day of the 25th of Kislev, 5768. And it continues through Rosh Chodesh Tevet (the new moon that starts the month of Tevet) and continues until the 3rd day of Tevet, 5768, which is Wednesday, December 12, 2007 in the Western solar calendar.

And the conversation?

I said: "Am I dreaming or is Hannukah coming early this year?"

Bruce: "You're right."

N: "Hannukah comes right on time every single year!"

Bruce: You're right!"

N: "But you said she's right...and I'm right..."

Bruce: "You're both right!"

And, because we live on two calendars, so we are!

The Albuquerque Turkey

In honor of our yearly pilgrimage to the shrine of the bird, we bring you the famous Albuquerque Turkey song.

Sung to the tune of "Oh, My Darling Clementine--sort of.

Albuquerque had a turkey,

it was feathered, it was fine.

And it wobbled as it gobbled,

and it's absolutely mine.

It's the best pet you can get yet,

better than a dog or cat!

It's my Albuquerque Turkey

and I'm awefully proud of that!

Now my Albuquerque Turkey is

sleeping snuggled in his bed,

And for our Thanksgiving dinner

we'll have egg foo-yung instead.

But seriously, folks, our Albuquerque Turkey is browning nicely in the oven.

After a nice walk in the woods, we are just getting ready to get the trimmings heated up so we can sit down for our Thanksgiving dinner.

Here's a wish that you are having a wonderful day with family and friends near and far!

Rosh Hashanah: A Sweet New Year

Tomorrow at sunset Rosh Hashanah begins, and with it the most solemn and yet joyous season of the Jewish year, the Yamim Noraim--the High Holy Days. This ten day period of supplication and repentence ends after Yom Kippur.

The High Holy Days are not really "home" holy days, unlike most of the rest of the Jewish holidays. Rather, these are synagogue holy days, upon which the congregation comes together for an intense period of ritual and prayer. But there are some sweet home customs for the two day holiday of Rosh Hashanah.

Rosh Hashanah at Home

by N.

We spend a lot of time at synagogue on the High Holy Days, but there's also the home front. On the home front, most of what we do is about food. When we sit down to dinner tomorrow night...well, it will be dinner but very early because Mom and Bruce are ushers at temple and have to be there early. So when we sit down at 4 o'clock, there will some unusual things on the table along with the china, the candles and the kiddush cups we have on Shabbat. First, there will challah, which we have for Shabbat, too, but this Challah is different from all other Challah. It is round! We make the Challah round because roundness symbolizes the fullness of life, something that we pray for on Rosh Hashanah. Some people also make Challah in the shape of ladders, to remind them of Jacob's Ladder. Mom makes the challah with raisins and cinnamon for a sweet new year. Another thing we have on the table are cut apples and little bowls of honey. The apples, a symbol of the coming fall harvest, are dipped in the honey, and we say a blessing and then serve each other bites of them and say: L'shanah tova mituveka--Have a good and sweet year! And then there's the fish Mom bakes, head and all! Rosh Hashanah means 'the head of the year' so we have the whole fish. Also, mom says to remind you that fishes have their eyes open all of the time--and at this time we want to have our eyes open to our sins so that we can know them and make t'shuvah for them, which means to turn around and go a better way! Last of all, we have honey cake for dessert--again, to remind ourselves to have a sweet new year. So that's the evening.

On Rosh Hashanah day we have a big dinner after services, kind of like at Thanksgiving. Some years, when we have lots of people, we have turkey. But this year mom is only having a few people because of the floors, so she is making Fez Chicken with Couscous from the Jewish Holiday Cookbook. She says she used to make it all the time when I was little but I don't remember. And there will be more round Challah and apples and honey. But Mom also makes Tayglach--which is a honey and nut candy for dessert. Last of all, we will have rimmonim, which a known as pomogranites. They remind us of Torah because they have many seeds, just like the seeds of Torah that are planted in every Jew. They also qualify as "funny" fruit--a fruit that you don't eat very often. Maybe once a year or so. That way you can say the Shehecheyanu--a blessing for special days--when you light the candles for the second day of Rosh Hashanah.

I like Rosh Hashanah. There's lots of good things to eat. It's different in ten days when we come to Yom Kippur, but that's another story.

Back to you, Mom!

I think N. has done a great job of telling about our food traditions for Rosh Hashanah.

In the synagogue, Rosh Hashanah is a joyous holiday when we greet the New Year with the blowing of the Shofar. The Shofar is a ram's horn, and it is sounded after the Torah reading. There are three parts of the Shofar service, and during each part, the Shofar is sounded with three calls. Each part reminds us of an important aspect of the Eternal.

The first is Malchuyot, which means "kingship," or sovereignty. We say: "As it is written in the Torah: For the kingdom is Yours, and from eternity to eternity You will reign in glory." The Shofar is sounded. And we say: "Hayom harat olam...this is the day of the world's birth...as we are Your children show us the compassion of a father, as we are Your servants, we look to you for mercy...O Holy and Awesome G-d!"

The second aspect is Zichronot--Rememberance. We say: "This is the day of the world's beginning; now we remember creation's first day. On this day the fate of nations is in the balance...Happy is the one who does not forget You..." The Shofar is sounded. And we say: "In love and favor hear us, as we invoke Your remembrance."

The third aspect is Shofarot, which is revelation. We say: "It is written: 'The Eternal will appear; G-d's arrow will flash like lightning. The Eternal G-d will cause the Shofar to be sounded and stride forth with the storm-winds of the South.' Thus will You shield Your people completely..." This time, after the shofar is sounded with all the calls, the very last blowing is Tekiah Gedolah, the great sounding that lasts until the blower runs out of breath.

This is the high note of the morning service. When it is over, we mingle and greet each other, eat some Tayglach and then go home to the family table for eating and schmoozing. And eating some more, until, rather like hobbits, we resort to filling in the corners with honey cake and pomegranites. Then on the second day, we have services and a picnic here in the mountains. And of course there is more eating and schmoozing and playing games after.

So Rosh Hashanah is the serious time, the time that begins the ten days of t'shuvah (turning) and supplication for life. But although it is a synagogue holiday, there is also family time and time to be with one another. For what are we without family and friends?

The Days of Awe come down to this prayer:

"Remember us unto life, O King who delights in life; inscribe us in the Book of Life, O G-d of Life."

For really, that is what the whole idea of turning ourselves anew, and aiming the bows of our lives more truly. It is so that we may have the life that we were born to live and be the people we were meant to be.

The Glorious Fourth!

Old Glory Flies from the mast of the USS Constitution

I took the picture on the Turn-Around Cruise, July 19, 2004.

Have a wonderful 4th!

Long may we remember and exercise Liberty, secured

at so great a cost

by the patriots of the American revolution.

"...Our Lives, Our Fortunes, and Our Sacred Honor

In the summer of 2001, I spent the Glorious Fourth at the Aleph Summer Kallah. A Kallah is a period of Jewish study undertaken traditionally in the summer, after Shavuot.

The 4th of July was on a Thursday that year, and Thursday is a Torah reading day in the synagogue. We had morning services with Rabbi Arthur Waskow in the big tent that is part of Kallah.

I don't remember what Torah portion was read that day, but I will never forget the Haftarah (prophetic reading). Rabbi Waskow stood at the Bimah and chanted to the tune of Haftarah Trop:

"In Congress, July 4, 1776: When in the course of human events..."

He chanted the first paragraph of the Declaration of Independence. When I was growing up, it was the custom the read the Declaration out loud on the 4th at the park before the fireworks. But to place the Declaration in the canon of prophetic writings was not something that I had ever considered. And yet, Rabbi Waskow was right--it is a prophetic document in a very real sense. The reading sent shivers up my spine.

We discussed the Declaration rather than having a D'var Torah (sermon). I do not remember the particulars of the discussion, but the import was the idea that the Eternal Creator of the Universe delights in human freedom and self-determiniation. There were many important rabbis in the Jewish Renewal movement there that day, so I did not contribute until the end of the discussion.

I suggested that Rabbi Waskow chant also the end of the Declaration for it is a very powerful statement of commitment by the signers of the document. And Rabbi Waskow stood aside and called me for the honor of chanting these words:

"... And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor."

I have always thought these words are the most powerful in the Declaration. To understand how powerful, we must remember that to sign this document was an act of treason in the eyes of King George. And this was no hollow statement. The penalty for treason is death.

It is easy for us today to forget, as we have our barbeques, and watch the fireworks, that the founders of our Republic did not know the outcome of the revolution that they began. When they got together to "hatch much treason," as Samuel Adams put it, they were taking a very real risk that it might not work out. When George Washington and the Continental Army were starving at Valley Forge, they faced the real possiblity that all could be lost in this desperate gamble, and that tyranny would prevail.

And yet they persisted in their revolution in support of an idea--the idea and ideal that all human beings are created equal and that a nation can be build on the foundation of liberty and self-determination.

Many of those who signed the Declaration did in fact gamble and lose their property; and some their very lives. And even more so, did the ordinary "Americans," who responded to the call of freedom and gave their lives in the monumental struggle to give birth to a nation "conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all...are created equal," as Abe Lincoln so simply and eloquently put it 87 years later.

And I wonder, do we, their spiritual descendents, have that kind of dedication? Do we understand the meaning of staking "our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor" for the ideal of liberty?

I believe that our nation, out of all the nations, has a unique heritage of liberty. We are a people founded not on blood, nor on soil, but on the strength of an idea. Anyone who is willing to pledge life, fortune and honor in the service of this idea is one of us--regardless of birth. Of all of the nations, we have a unique capacity for greatness. But it is up to us to reach for that greatness and pledge everything we are and everything we have, to make it happen. Regardless of the costs.

Our lives. Our fortunes. Our sacred honor.

When we pledge the first two, we create the third.

I am reminded of the poem that is on the Minuteman statue in Concord:

"By the rude bridge that arched the flood,

His flag to April's breeze unfurled.

Here once the embattled farmer stood,

And fired the shot heard 'round the world."

Will the echo if that shot continue to be heard? Do we understand what "sacred honor" means? Would we be willing to give our lives and our fortunes up to the cause of liberty?

Are we willing to demand this of our leaders?

These questions should be foremost on our minds and hearts this Glorious Fourth.