And now a word from my teacher, Rabbi Shefa Gold
From a letter she just sent to her students:
I’ve edited the bit under the cut for readablilty and length. The bold and italics are mine to emphasize bits that particularly speak to me. I’d be delighted to discuss.
Dear Friends,
As I begin my preparation for the High Holy Days, I thought I'd share with you some of my thoughts:
The only way to understand the transformative power of the Days of Awe is in the context of the journey of the year. To live a Jewish life means to attune ourselves to the rhythm of the seasons and to use the power of our festivals to explore the inner landscape.
In the middle of summer there comes a day in our calendar that becomes the turning point that can send us to the possibility of radical renewal. The 9th of Av, which commemorates the destruction of both the First and Second Temple, is a day of shattering and a day of mourning. Tisha B'Av is a day set aside to do the work of acknowledging and healing trauma, both personal and collective. The Midrash tells us that this is also the birthday of Maschiach. In other words, if we do this work of facing the devastation of our lives and of the world, standing courageously in the ruins and rubble of our personal and collective history while releasing the deadening effects of trauma, then Messianic consciousness will be born within us; we will be fully able to participate in our own Redemption and in the healing of our planet.
The journey from devastation to Renewal is marked by 7 Haftorot of consolation. These readings from Isaiah become the guidebook and inspiration for this healing journey. During these 7 weeks we traverse the inner landscape, cleaning up the rubble of the past and clearing the way for a new life. During these 7 weeks we are encouraged to open our ‘bags’ and look closely at what we are carrying. In doing this we begin to understand that much of it isn't needed anymore: it is dead weight pulling us down into reactivity, robbing us of the freedom to respond in fresh new ways to the miracle and challenge of this present moment. We learn during these 7 weeks of consolation, that transformation is indeed possible.
Vayasem midbarah k'eden, v'arvatah k'gan Adonai (Isaiah 51:3)
He transforms her wilderness into Delight, her wasteland into a Divine Garden.
Our journey from devastation to renewal takes us now through the month of Elul, which this year begins on September 1st. The name of this month is a Hebraisized version of a Babylonian word, but our Tradition teaches us that ELUL is an acronym for a line from the Song of Songs that describes the spiritual work of this leg of the journey. Ani L'Dodi, V'Dodi Li…. I am my Beloved's and my Beloved is mine.
The only way to meet God as Beloved is through the power of this moment of my life. God comes to me as "this." To become the Beloved of God means to fall in love with my life as it is. I don't always have to like it…. Love transcends my preferences. To become the Beloved of God means that I accept what is given to me and rise to the challenge. Instead of arguing with the Reality before me, I look it straight in the eye, embrace What Is, and then call on all of my wisdom, curiosity and compassion to move forward from here. That is the work of Elul.
The Tradition instructs us that whatever your spiritual practice during the rest of the year…. during Elul, you might consider spending more of your time and attention with that practice, in preparation for the opportunity that the High Holy Days can give us. During Elul, find an especially inspiring book to read. Pick a chant that moves you and make a commitment to chant it each day of Elul. Do some journaling in order to examine your relationships, regrets, hopes, dreams. Begin the work of forgiving yourself first and then turn to others and let go of some judgments. Elul is a time to grow in love so that we can greet the New Year with an open heart and with a joyful enthusiasm for the journey.
May we each feel supported in this holy work. I am so happy to have you in my life.
Love,
Shefa
The quote in the middle of the passage, about transforming her wilderness into delight, has a very special place in my heart. We learned this as a chant on retreat together sometime in 2005, right in the middle of the most devastating time during the break-up of my marriage. My inner landscape was indeed a wilderness of thorns, a wasteland of blackness. When I allowed myself to touch into the pain there, it was overwhelming. I felt unloved, unlovable, completely null. It was as though my whole life had been a lie and all the things I thought were true, even about myself, were revealed to be only a thin veneer of playacting. Hope was gone. Joy was gone. Delight was most definitely gone.
To hear that this wilderness itself would be transformed into Delight gave me a tiny handhold on Hope. It was almost obscene to imagine this pain could have any redemption in it, and yet chanting that chant, my intellectual analysis was bypassed and my heart felt something in addition to pain. It hurt to face the wilderness, to allow myself to be fully in it, oh yes it did, but there was just the smallest spark of light in the darkness; and the darkness was so dark that tiny light was blinding. It became my fervent prayer - to have my Wilderness transformed into Delight.
The chant never fails to bring tears, writing about it has the tears at the surface. I wish I could relate how powerfully moving this is for me.
Because it bears repeating, here’s what I take as the central message (to me) in her letter:
To become the Beloved of God means to fall in love with my life as it is. Instead of arguing with the Reality before me, I look it straight in the eye, embrace What Is, and then call on all of my wisdom, curiosity and compassion to move forward from here.
Blessings to you all~
I’ve edited the bit under the cut for readablilty and length. The bold and italics are mine to emphasize bits that particularly speak to me. I’d be delighted to discuss.
Dear Friends,
As I begin my preparation for the High Holy Days, I thought I'd share with you some of my thoughts:
The only way to understand the transformative power of the Days of Awe is in the context of the journey of the year. To live a Jewish life means to attune ourselves to the rhythm of the seasons and to use the power of our festivals to explore the inner landscape.
In the middle of summer there comes a day in our calendar that becomes the turning point that can send us to the possibility of radical renewal. The 9th of Av, which commemorates the destruction of both the First and Second Temple, is a day of shattering and a day of mourning. Tisha B'Av is a day set aside to do the work of acknowledging and healing trauma, both personal and collective. The Midrash tells us that this is also the birthday of Maschiach. In other words, if we do this work of facing the devastation of our lives and of the world, standing courageously in the ruins and rubble of our personal and collective history while releasing the deadening effects of trauma, then Messianic consciousness will be born within us; we will be fully able to participate in our own Redemption and in the healing of our planet.
The journey from devastation to Renewal is marked by 7 Haftorot of consolation. These readings from Isaiah become the guidebook and inspiration for this healing journey. During these 7 weeks we traverse the inner landscape, cleaning up the rubble of the past and clearing the way for a new life. During these 7 weeks we are encouraged to open our ‘bags’ and look closely at what we are carrying. In doing this we begin to understand that much of it isn't needed anymore: it is dead weight pulling us down into reactivity, robbing us of the freedom to respond in fresh new ways to the miracle and challenge of this present moment. We learn during these 7 weeks of consolation, that transformation is indeed possible.
Vayasem midbarah k'eden, v'arvatah k'gan Adonai (Isaiah 51:3)
He transforms her wilderness into Delight, her wasteland into a Divine Garden.
Our journey from devastation to renewal takes us now through the month of Elul, which this year begins on September 1st. The name of this month is a Hebraisized version of a Babylonian word, but our Tradition teaches us that ELUL is an acronym for a line from the Song of Songs that describes the spiritual work of this leg of the journey. Ani L'Dodi, V'Dodi Li…. I am my Beloved's and my Beloved is mine.
The only way to meet God as Beloved is through the power of this moment of my life. God comes to me as "this." To become the Beloved of God means to fall in love with my life as it is. I don't always have to like it…. Love transcends my preferences. To become the Beloved of God means that I accept what is given to me and rise to the challenge. Instead of arguing with the Reality before me, I look it straight in the eye, embrace What Is, and then call on all of my wisdom, curiosity and compassion to move forward from here. That is the work of Elul.
The Tradition instructs us that whatever your spiritual practice during the rest of the year…. during Elul, you might consider spending more of your time and attention with that practice, in preparation for the opportunity that the High Holy Days can give us. During Elul, find an especially inspiring book to read. Pick a chant that moves you and make a commitment to chant it each day of Elul. Do some journaling in order to examine your relationships, regrets, hopes, dreams. Begin the work of forgiving yourself first and then turn to others and let go of some judgments. Elul is a time to grow in love so that we can greet the New Year with an open heart and with a joyful enthusiasm for the journey.
May we each feel supported in this holy work. I am so happy to have you in my life.
Love,
Shefa
The quote in the middle of the passage, about transforming her wilderness into delight, has a very special place in my heart. We learned this as a chant on retreat together sometime in 2005, right in the middle of the most devastating time during the break-up of my marriage. My inner landscape was indeed a wilderness of thorns, a wasteland of blackness. When I allowed myself to touch into the pain there, it was overwhelming. I felt unloved, unlovable, completely null. It was as though my whole life had been a lie and all the things I thought were true, even about myself, were revealed to be only a thin veneer of playacting. Hope was gone. Joy was gone. Delight was most definitely gone.
To hear that this wilderness itself would be transformed into Delight gave me a tiny handhold on Hope. It was almost obscene to imagine this pain could have any redemption in it, and yet chanting that chant, my intellectual analysis was bypassed and my heart felt something in addition to pain. It hurt to face the wilderness, to allow myself to be fully in it, oh yes it did, but there was just the smallest spark of light in the darkness; and the darkness was so dark that tiny light was blinding. It became my fervent prayer - to have my Wilderness transformed into Delight.
The chant never fails to bring tears, writing about it has the tears at the surface. I wish I could relate how powerfully moving this is for me.
Because it bears repeating, here’s what I take as the central message (to me) in her letter:
To become the Beloved of God means to fall in love with my life as it is. Instead of arguing with the Reality before me, I look it straight in the eye, embrace What Is, and then call on all of my wisdom, curiosity and compassion to move forward from here.
Blessings to you all~