A Rabbi's Prayer for the High Holy Days

As a congregational rabbi, there is this pressure to make the High Holy Days perfect. As someone I work with says, "The company is coming!" Our entire staff, from those in charge of the physical plant to those responsible for administration to our educators to our clergy, is busily preparing for the High Holy Days (HHD). It is an overwhelming task to prepare for these sacred days and we want to make sure it is the best experience for our community.

For me, it is important to enter these sacred days intentionally and recognize their significance--both how big they are and how quickly they pass. So, as I enter this final week of preparation, this is my prayer:

O God, I pray that I will enter this season of repentance feeling the fullness of blessings and the awareness of my growing edges.

I pray I will have the internal strength to admit my failings to those I love and respect.

I pray I will have the confidence in myself to step back from my preparation to be home with my family as much as possible, because the work is never done and my family depends upon me too.

I pray I will be able to be mindful and present in the liturgy of these holy days, remembering that to be a rabbi is not to be a performer and I seek to be with the congregation, not above it.

I pray I will remember that the sum total of our Judaism, my rabbinate, or any one congregation is not this one season, but the entire year.

As I pray that this year will be one of blessing and peace, may I be ever mindful that I must act and live in a way to make that a reality.

Awakening: Everything in its Time

To be the parent of a ten month-old is to be in "watching and waiting" mode. We're watching for tooth #3, we're watching for allergies as he tries new foods, we're watching for signs that he'll pull up, and we're watching for a more even pattern of crawling. Each of these things is, in their own way, an awakening. To watch a (thank God) healthy child's brain wake up in a different way each day, showing another step on the journey of development, is to experience a depth of gratitude and awe unlike anything I have ever experienced.

Yet, waiting for each thing to awaken in its time requires patience and faith. I received a video of my son crawling at day care yesterday. I was delighted to see that he crawled almost across the entire classroom to reach his favorite toy because his crawling is progressing slowly. But I watched as he crawled awkwardly, slithering along using one arm more than the other. I found myself internally whispering, "Wake up...come on, just move your other arm."

Am I worried about him? No, he is a delightfully healthy and sweet baby. I have come to realize that I am just a little impatient sometimes and then lose the faith that everything will unfold in its time (and if it doesn't, we'll cross that bridge when it comes). Every baby website preys upon this part of parents: "just read this and you'll know if everything is normal." Upon reflection, though, I realize that I don't need him to be "normal." What is that concept anyway? What I want is for him to be healthy and to grow in his unique way--not his older sister's way, not the internet's way, but his way. And, I pray that I can find the patience to watch it unfold, to see each piece of his brain, his body, and his soul awaken and connect with us and the world. If I can sit with that patience, and the gratitude and awe which comes with celebrating this awakening, then I will truly love my son as he is, and I will be closer to being the mother I aspire to be.

Listening and Balancing

The Hebrew word for balance is izun, related to the word ozen  (ear), which makes sense since physical balance is linked to our ears. 

Internal balance, I believe, is also related to our ears. When we are in balance, we are hearing the competing voices and making sense of them. When we are out of balance, something isn't being heard or given its space. When I find myself out of balance, I know that something is crying out but I cannot listen to it. Sometimes that "something" is my children, asking for my attention. Sometimes it is my work, crammed into less time than it deserves because there are other things happening. Sometimes it is me, with needs for health or space that are not being honored. 

Each of us has these voices. The question is how well we listen and how we assign them priority and space. It is not realistic to expect that everything gets heard and fulfilled as we each have limited resources (time being the most precious). Yet, balance is not static. Each day we can listen differently and find a new sense of balance. The more we envision balance as fluid, the more forgiving and flexible we can become.

As I approach the new year, I am praying for the ability to listen. To hear myself, those around me, the voices that are often easily missed in the chaos of life...and in that listening, to find balance. 

Carrying Forward A Legacy

Last week, I was in Baltimore where most of my mother's family is buried. We were actually there for my brother's wedding, yet since we are so rarely in Baltimore, it seemed appropriate to take the morning to go to the cemetery as a family.

As I was preparing my three year-old for the visit, I explained that a cemetery is a place where we remember those we love. It is a mitzvah to visit a cemetery and place stones on the graves. So, when we arrived at the cemetery, my daughter immediately set upon the task of finding enough stones for everyone. She was eager to place them where we said and was excited to "do a mitzvah."

I invited her to come over to her great-grandmother Irene's headstone. I was very close to my grandmother and my daughter was named for her. I pointed to the name Irene and asked, "Who do you know who has Irene in her name?" "Me!" my daughter proclaimed. This gave me an opportunity to say that she was named for someone who was brave, who loved family, and who was very special to her mommy and her Savta (grandmother). 

Standing in that cemetery, I was struck by how much my daughter does embody parts of my grandmother. I thought about how my grandmother would always raise her hands in excitement when I arrived for a visit, and how my daughter uses her hands when she wants to make a strong point. I think of my daughter's love of nail polish and how my grandmother did her best to keep a manicure. I think of how my grandmother, when she went into hospice, lamented how she would never see my children. Yet, 6 1/2 years later, I believe she does get to see her children in some way. I could feel in this moment of memory how delighted she would be in them, and in me as a mother. 

When we name our children for family, we are endowing them with a legacy. We are hoping and praying that they will take on the positive qualities of those we love and will maintain a memory for our entire family. In a way, we fulfill an obligation to remember our loved ones by passing on their name, and all that represents. The name, though, is only the first part. It is the stories, the memories, the "wow, your grandma used to do that" moments, that invite our children to actively carry forward this legacy. If we only say, "You were named for our relative," we miss the opportunity to make our children the bearer of a piece of history. 

I stood at the grave of my great-aunt Florence. She was my grandmother's favorite sister and died young. My mother chose to name me for Florence (which is why my name is spelled the way it is). Yet, that's the sum total of the stories I know about Aunt Florence. I never really thought to ask. For my daughter, I had the opportunity to start telling the stories about Grandma Irene in a way that makes sense to a preschooler. I hope that, with time, she will not only know why she was named for Irene, but what her great-grandmother meant to me. My stories will become hers, and then Irene Hurwitz Pollock's legacy and memory truly becomes a blessing. 

God is like...

At bedtime last week, as we prepared to sing bedtime Shema, my daughter asked why we say this prayer at night. I said, "Because we are asking God to watch over us." Then came the obvious question, "What's God?"

How does one explain God to a three year old, who still can't separate "today," "tomorrow," and "yesterday," or other abstract concepts? tried a few approaches: "God is something we can't see but can feel...so much bigger than all of us." I then received the question, "Is God a rabbi?" I tried again: "God is like love." Then I said, "God is in our good choices." And then I realized I should exit gracefully: "Let's sing the Shema."

I've spent the nights since then reflecting upon what I know as a rabbi about teaching God and what I now as a parent realize about teaching my children about God and faith. 

When teaching our children about God, the first step as parents is to know what God is to each of us. Everything I said to my daughter about God was true. I do believe that God is present but invisible, felt strongly in the relationships we have, expressed in the choices we make. I feel God's presence as gratitude, the overwhelming feeling of blessing as I look at my children and so many areas of my life. If we as parents don't have a clear sense of some basic truths for us with regard to faith, we will not be able to approach this from a place of confidence or authenticity. 

The next step is to model that knowing. In the moment my daughter asked me about God, I naively thought that I could give one answer that would make perfect sense. She's three, though, and her understanding of faith is more closely tied to her understanding of the parent-child relationship. She can't understand God the way I do....but she can understand that I have faith in God. She can understand that we pray. She can understand that we believe in something greater than ourselves. More powerful than any conversation is what she watches me and others do. 

Those little eyes and ears notice everything! There is a lot of pressure to make sure that what she sees and hears are positive messages. Yet, I would like to think that all of us strive to acheive the best within us, doing our part to bring goodness to this world. So, perhaps this is just another blessing children can bring to our lives--they can be the mirror that reflects who we are and inspires us to be better. 

A Blessing For A Healthy Child

Today brought our daughter's 3 year and our son's 6 month physicals. It was entertaining to anticipate this visit to the doctor with our daughter. She had a list of the things she learned in school about doctor's visits and interacted beautifully with the nurse and doctor. Even the little hemoglobin stick didn't bug her. She watched her brother get some vaccines and was appropriate sympathetic. All in all, a good visit.

Every child has their growth areas, and ours are no exception. Certainly there are a few things to work on, but we left with fundamentally healthy children, particularly our daughter who doesn't need to come back until she's four!

When a child comes into the world, we "count their fingers and toes" and are grateful that he or she is healthy. I believe that gratitude needs to continue to be present in our minds and hearts after that initial concern. Every physical with a clean bill of health, every medical issue that can be easily resolved, every challenge that is manageable....this is a moment of blessing and thanksgiving. While I sit here this evening knowing that there could one day be something life-threatening which emerges in one of our children, surprising us and tearing our world apart (we've all heard the stories), I address that fear with acknowledgement of the blessing in this moment of healthy children. In that spirit, I offer this prayer for all of us who are so blessed:

Dear God, thank You for my child and for the good health he/she enjoys. I know that there are many children who are gravely ill, one of the deepest mysteries we have to face as human beings. I don't know why I am blessed with this healthy child, but I want You to know that I am so grateful. Help me each day to appreciate my child's health and growth, to put our struggles in perspective, and to never take the resources we have for granted. Make this next year one of health and strength for my child and for our family. Bless us with wholeness and peace. Amen. 

The Frozen Effect

With my princess-loving three year-old daughter, our house has fallen captive to the Frozen craze. Every day is a new opportunity to dress up as Princess Anna or Queen Elsa, to knock on a door and ask, "Do you wanna build a snowman?", and get excited about "coronation day." While I have read many articles and blogs about the phenomenon that is Frozen, including the positives and drawbacks of the two princesses, I overall think this is a great, entertaining movie. For all of its shortcomings, it does send a message of confidence and that sibling love is true love, too.

Yet, Frozen has blown a chill wind into our house as well. Recently I observed to a friend that, in the past few weeks, our daughter has worried that we are leaving her when we do multiple trips to the car before leaving in the morning, she is now complaining about the wind, and most recently, refuses to "be cold." The friend replied, "Oh, all major themes in Frozen."

Some of this, particularly some of the worry of being left behind, is normal three year-old behavior. She is trying to make sense of the world around her, and this is just part of that development. I also know, though, that my friend is right and this is could absolutely be from watching Frozen.

What I realized is that I watch Frozen with my daughter and we talk about some of it, but I have shied away from the scene when the parents go away and don't return. I have focused on the positive themes of sibling love, helping, being trustworthy...and not talked about the scary parts like dying parents or frozen sisters.

Fairy tales and princess stories often have scary parts in them because they respond and address the fears we all feel. How often do we really process them with our children?

This weekend, when it is time for our weekly viewing of a Disney movie (and I know it will be Frozen), I'm going to be pausing the movie at different parts and asking my daughter what she sees and feels. Maybe it will turn out that this is all just three year-old stuff, not anything related to the movie. Regardless, it will be a growing experience for me as a parent, opening up the difficult conversations I'm not sure we need to have. If I don't try, though, I'll never know!