The collective Jewish response to grief is joy, to choose with all of our beings to hold onto and to live in joy no matter what. Not always an easy path, but it leads to a deep healing that allows the full spectrum of emotion into our lives. Joy and grief are welcome here, because they are part of accepting G-d’s world as it is. Living in joy, with all our strength and energy, is part of claiming a stake in G-d’s future world, a world of complete happiness and peace, a world that is yet to come.
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Fire Within
My burns
Cannot be seen on my flesh.
They are in my lungs
And in my eyes.
What medicine will halt the smoldering,
The smoke that suffocates from within?
My cuts
Cannot be seen on my skin.
They are in my heart
And in my throat.
What medicine will heal the bleeding,
The tide that floods from within?
Ancient One,
Release me from the fire and the knife:
The flame that consumes hope and joy,
The blade that destroys time and seasons.
Hoy One,
Rock and Shelter,
Your medicine is love.
Your salve is holiness.
Your balm is life.
Blessed are You, Adonai our G-d,
Eternal Source of wholeness and healing.
Postscript: I originally conceived this as a prayer for men. Many of us experience our internal struggles – fears, losses, shames, angers – as fire and knife. Although I don’t know if the metaphor holds for women, this piece seems more universally prayer for healing than other of my prayers for men.
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This is a yizkor prayer for those who have died in service to others as first responders. It’s another focused yizkor prayer, including: “In Memory of an Organ Donor” and “At the Hand of Violence,” for those who died at the hand of another.
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Yizkor for First Responders
G-d of the selfless,
G-d of the strong and the brave,
Grant a perfect rest among the souls of the righteous
To ______________________ (name in Hebrew or your native tongue),
My [ father / mother / sister / brother / child / wife / dear one/ friend ]
Who died in service to others [ in / during / because of ]
_________________________________________________ [name of event such as:
[the 9/11 attacks on the Unites States, the Mount Carmel forest fire, etc.].
May his/her dedication to protecting life serve as a shining lamp of love
And the works of his/her hands bring us all merit in heaven.
Bless the souls of all who have died to save others,
Civilians and professionals,
The trained and the untrained,
In every age and in every land,
Men and women who answered the call of honor, duty and service.
May the memory of _____________________ be sanctified with joy and love.
May his/her soul be bound up in the bond of life,
A living blessing in our midst.
Here’s the scene: ulpan students from the Overseas Student Program of Ben-Gurion University – about 15 college and grad school students, a couple from Albany, NY, and me, plus staff from Kibbutz Ketura and BGU – are together on the sand dunes of the Arava, a rift valley in the southern Negev. After a hike and some time to “dune dive,” we get an assignment: go off in silence to think about the desert and what it evokes. Then, after 20 minutes, write about it. Here’s what I wrote:
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Oh You Hills, Oh You Sands
Speak to me
Oh you hills.
Did my father pass this way?
Did my mother draw water
From some secret well?
Did I dream of angels and blessings?
Or will the man I am
Wrestle all night
With the man
I am yet to be?
Speak to me
Oh you sands.
What ancient beauty have you captured?
What silent yearning springs up
To water my heart?
What treasures do you
Still hold dear?
Let me know the music of your valleys.
Let me hear the heart beat
Beneath your thousand stones.
Let me remember
The ancient promise of home.
Speak to me
From the place where
Desert and sky meet
In perfect silence,
In perfect wisdom,
In perfect love.
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I’ve been ready to discover Israel as my future for a long time. It turns out, however, that there was at least one lesson that I needed to relearn before beginning this adventure. In the past decade of illness, medical emergencies and consequences, deaths, job losses and life transitions, I set up a wall to guard my heart, shutting out some of the pain. The consequence: not seeing the vastness of the joy and love, friendship and care around me. In order to go on this journey, I needed to stay awhile in order to remember the gift of you. Here’s a piece I wrote on the plane from O’Hare to Newark.
Shall I Cry?
Shall I cry at the last withered leaf of fall?
Or the lonely swallow?
Or my grieving heart?
Shall I mourn the past?
Protest the future?
Bury myself in these losses?
The leaving. The death.
Oh you sea of clouds.
Oh you curtain of rain.
Oh you silent yearning.
You arrive as messenger and guide,
Sent from the Source of healing,
The Source of radiance and wonder.
This soul cannot learn to love
In heaven, where only
The vast blue glory
Of light
Resides.
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והביאנו לשלום מארבע כנפות הארץ, ותוליכנו קוממיותלארצנו
Bring us in peace from the four corners of the earth
And lead us upright to our land…
On reciting this line, worshipers traditionally gather the four tzitzit that are draped around them on their talitot. The act of bringing together these tassels, one-by-one, reflects the historic longing for our reunification as a people, for our return to the land.
After my trip to Israel in June, I began to see myself as the first tzitzit, quite literally thinking of my return to the land of our ancestors as I held that first fringe. The second tzitzit became my family, joining me in that holy place. The third: my worship community. Finally, K’lal Yisroel. And so, we would all return home.
This meditation has a dreamlike quality. It begins with the yearning for Israel that’s in each of us. For some, that yearning is a prayer for the future our people. For others, it’s a journey to the land. And for others, it’s the longing for a new Zion, where the diversity and beauty of all Jewish expression is nurtured and celebrated. The dream may be quite different for each of us. Yet each vision, each idea is somehow part of the same dream.
We must each create own place in the nation, the people and the State of Israel. Here’s my dream, one tzitzit at a time.
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Gathering: A Dream of Reunion
והביאנו לשלום מארבע כנפות הארץ
ותוליכנו קוממיותלארצנו
Bring us in peace from the four corners of the earth
And lead us upright to our land…
First Tzitit – Gathering fringes
The first knotted string in hand,
I imagine the journey home,
Home to the land of our mothers and fathers,
Holy and full of promise, labor and love,
To build a life of wonder and awe.
This is me.
This is my pilgrimage to sacred soil.
This is my dream of holiness and redemption.
I am the first tzitzit.
I am returning home.
Second Tzitit – Gathering hearts
The second fraying string in hand,
I imagine my children, my family, my household
Returning with me to our homeland
To build and to renew our ancestral blood.
This is my family.
This is our journey to hallowed ground.
This is our wholeness and rebirth.
We are the second tzitzit.
We are returning home.
Third Tzitzit – Gathering moments
The third worn string in hand,
I imagine you, my community, my kahal,
Returning together to our Source and Shelter,
To consecrate the ancient land and our holy vow.
This is my village.
This is our journey to mystery and majesty.
This is our bond of ages.
We are the third tzitzit.
We are returning home.
Final Tzitzit – Gathering millennia
The final woolen string in hand,
I imagine all of us, from all corners of the Earth,
Returning with songs of praise and rejoicing,
To claim our place among the nation of Israel.
This is my people.
This is our journey of destiny.
This is our covenant.
We are the tzitzit, separate no more.
We are returning home.
Postscript: For me, this dream points toward aliyah. Even if I settle in Israel, it will remain a dream, a prayer of longing. For in truth, my children do not see themselves as the second tzitzit. They’re not coming with. Not now. Perhaps not later, either. Even as I move toward aliyah, this will remain my wildest hope for me and my children. It will remain my deepest yearning for you and all of Israel. We will each arrive when the time is right. Click to read more prayers about Israel.
Thanks to Rabbi Ruth Abusch-Magder for challenging me to think about how this meditation would be used and how it might be heard by those who are not on a path to aliyah.
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Men, here’s an amazing truth. You have a deep well of courage, power and majesty inside of you. The challenge: tapping that power in ways that heal ourselves and the world. The Mankind Project is dedicated to leading men into that adventure. With their help, I’ve found all the resources needed for me to live bravely and freely, following my dream and my path, wherever it leads.
This prayer celebrates my community of men, Warriors who teach each other the art and the responsibility of being men.
Thank you for these gifts. To listen along, click on the triangle in the bar below (website only). The text follows.
My Courage
My courage is in my heartbeat
And my open arms,
In my wisdom and my pulsing veins,
In trusting my vision and speaking my truth,
Gifts from you,
Dear brother,
Who taught me to use fear as a sword
To guide me,
Uplift me,
To set me free.
My power is in surrender
To the unknown,
In travelling the long road out
And finding the long road home,
In my embrace of joyous adventure,
Gifts from you,
Dear brother,
Who taught me to use courage as a shield
To protect me,
Support me,
To set me free.
My majesty is in my deeds
My word and my mission,
In a breath of crisp morning air,
And the shimmering sky at twilight,
Robes of humility and service,
Gifts from you,
Dear brother,
Who taught me to claim honor as my staff
And wisdom as my crown,
The integrity and compassion,
The vision and blessing,
That set me free.
Postscript: January 2012 will mark the second anniversary of my participation in the New Warrior Training Adventure. I’ll also leave for three months in Israel, part of a journey and a dream that might have gone unfulfilled without the support and wisdom of the Chicago community of MKP. Here’s a link to more prayers for and about men. One of my favorites is “My Work Remains.”
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This 111-word story tells of a man whose siddur is always near, but it’s really about passing the gift of prayer from one generation to the next. To listen along, click on the triangle in the bar below (website only). The text follows.
Pinchas haLevi
Pinchas haLevi carries his siddur in his coat, in a special pocket near his heart. He sewed the pocket himself, double stitching the fabric so it would never tear, never risk spilling its sacred cargo. He checks the pocket each week, before Shabbat, to make sure the stitches are still tight. He knows the prayers by heart, every blessing, every song, every word. But Pinchas haLevi’s siddur is always with him. It was his father’s and his grandfather’s and his great-grandfather’s before that. And one day, if G-d wills it, the siddur will ride in a special pocket of a special coat near the heart of a child yet to come.
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This is a short and simple prayer about living with joy and tenderness, guided by G-d’s word. To listen, click on the triangle in the bar below (website only). The text follows.
Prayers of My Heart
G-d of millennia,
G-d of generations
And the great expanse,
I have but a moment,
A flicker of time to
Bless and be blessed.
These are the prayers of my heart:
Tenderness and Shabbat.
The spiritual practice of love.
To know and not to know.
To be strong in faith and open to adventure.
To laugh in the wind.
To smile in the sunshine.
To play in the rain.
To live in dignity.
To consecrate the hours.
To sanctify my days.
To live Your Torah.
To praise Your name.
Shabbat and tenderness.
The spiritual practice of love.
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Beauty and holiness are everywhere. Here. Now. This is the place. To listen along, click on the triangle in the bar below (website only). The text follows.
This is the Place
This is the place where the beginning and the ending meet,
Where the vast sky greets the firmament of heaven,
Where the finite and the infinite touch,
Where the breathing in becomes the breathing out.
This is the place where darkness meets the light,
Where mourning surrenders to rejoicing,
Where what we are summons what we may become,
Where all hearts beat together in joy.
Oh to see so clearly.
Oh to live so gently.
Oh to be so simply.
Oh to love so sweetly.
This is the place where holiness can be held,
Where mystery shimmers and eternity shines,
Where the core of the earth burns with the fire of starlight,
Where majesty rises like the sun
In radiant brilliant luminous wonder.
Postscript: This prayer dreams of messianic times, while making the bold assertion that holiness is already here and waiting. Click here for more prayers of mystery and praise.
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What’s the response to spiritual heartbreak, to that deep longing that remains when G-d seems distant? This prayer/poem combines the vision of the spiritual traveler with the voice of admonishing prophet. The result is a stark warning about the joy and the risk of total surrender to G-d’s love. It ends on a note of hope, acknowledging that even in despair G-d is available to all of us. This is the third in this series, including “A Heart of Vision” and “A Heart that Hears.” To listen along, click on the triangle in the bar below (website only). The text follows.
A Heart of Love
I cannot hold Your love in my arms.
I cannot find Your presence with my hands.
Only my heart can know Your radiance and splendor,
Your compassion and forgiveness,
Your laughter and Your light.
Listen dear sisters,
Dear brothers.
Do not be quick to pray
To embrace life from the center of your being,
To connect from the inside out.
When you hold love in the cradle of your heart
You will drink at the oasis of joy.
But when sorrow dries up your aching chest,
You will be parched and faint
Before the fountain of G-d.
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