Wednesday, July 22, 2020.  As we have discussed in past years, Av is the month of calamity and intensity – commemorating many a tragedy on the ninth of Av, “Tisha B’Av”, in particular the destruction of the first temple in Jerusalem, and then the second, when the City fell to ferocious enemies.  The breaking of our hearts in sadness and self-awareness of our faults is a common theme – and helps us to begin to prepare for the High Holy Days. Av also has its joyous side, with “Tu B’Av”, the fifteenth of Av, at the Full Moon, sometimes called the Jewish Sadie Hawkins day, where the inviters become the invited amid dancing and festivities, and marriages often result.  Av is therefore a roller coaster of ups and downs, tragedy and deep joy.

This year we are in a time of calamity that seems as if the challenges will not end. We have plenty of fear, sadness, regret and anger to process.  Perusing our source materials yesterday evening, I came across a wonderful story from the Talmud, courtesy of Rabbi Jill Hammer.  The Rabbis describe the travel of the Shekhinah, the spiritual essence of the divine, recognized in Judaism as the feminine aspect of G-d, as she moves from her home in the temple, perhaps upon its destruction, into the wilderness:

The Shekhinah made ten journeys:  from the Ark to the cherub, from the cherub to the other cherub, from that cherub to the threshold, from the threshold to the courtyard, from the courtyard to the altar, from the altar to the roof, from the roof to the wall, from the wall to the city, and from the city to the mountain, and from the mountain to the wilderness.  From the wilderness, She arose and sat in Her place.[1]

Hammer imagines the Shekhinah being chased away from Her home by evil forces, or perhaps escaping to Her Place of silence, unpredictability, natural beauty, and waiting.  I think of how many of us are spending more and more hours outdoors, our place of escape when gathering indoors is less than healthy – and our place of solace when so much in our world is so difficult.  May we all expand our time in the wilderness in the coming months, as we begin the journey to the High Holy Days — and may we find a place of silence, unpredictability, natural beauty, waiting – and joy. — Kirby

 

 

We will honor the Full Moon of Av on Monday morning, August 3.  Our next Rosh Chodesh walking meditation will be Rosh Chodesh Elul, Friday morning, August 21. Both meetups are at 7:30 am.  Social distancing will be observed.  Contact us for location.

[1] Babylonian Talmud, Rosh Hashanah 31A, cited in Jill Hammer, The Jewish Book of Days, p.358. See Sources tab for full citation.

 

 

Tuesday, June 23, 2020.  The morning was cool and wet – a contrast with weather in the Israel, this time of year! – however our social and civilized world can seem like it’s on fire – so the lessons of Tammuz are just as relevant.

Summer sun, summer heat — summer parched soil, wilted leaves, dried-up streams.  Our source Jill Hammer reminds us that in the summer in the middle east, there is even more of a sense of threat and death, as it is the time when crops can fail due to insects, drought, excessive heat, or storms. Every year at this time we acknowledge the intensity of heat and bright light of this month, illuminating the truth of our lives, and intensifying the negative emotions of anger, grief, and jealousy, and our sense of menacing threat, and overwhelming sadness.

And yet:  both Rabbi Hammer, and our source Alan Lew, emphasize the importance of releasing and transforming negative energy during the summer, in order to prepare ourselves for the redemption and rebirth, in the New Year in the fall.  The 17^th of Tammuz begins a 3-week period of mourning, which lasts through the 9^th of Av in the coming month.  On the 17^th of Tammuz, we commemorate multiple tragic and catastrophic events in our history – when Moses descended from Mount Sinai with the tablets, only to break them upon seeing the Golden Calf; three times when the walls of Jerusalem were breached, before the city fell three weeks later. The deaths of Miriam and Aaron reportedly happened in Tammuz; the Biblical rebellion of Korach led to death of thousands of our people in the desert. The legends of our people include many more such calamities, laid on top of each other until it seems that we can’t begin to process them all.

We do process them, however, with fasting, prayer, and public mourning.   In traditional Jewish communities, this is a time of intense weeping and irritability.  But these negative emotions do not sink us into despair:  instead, we pray, we fast, we weep and tear our clothes together, and in so doing, transform the negative into clarity of vision, and commitment to do better.

I can’t help but think of the waves of catastrophe after catastrophe in our world this year – from the deaths and suffering of our brothers and sisters in shocking racist violence, to a global pandemic bringing down the most vulnerable, to fires in the West – to economic hardship, political strife, rampant blind ignorance.  We are angry, we are in mourning.  We could so easily descend into despair and hopelessness.  But instead:  we pray together, we fast together if it helps, we mourn together – and we transform our negative energy into action – and in so doing, we make a difference.  Whatever action we take, may it come from a heart that is broken in response to catastrophe – and transformed as we share with others the hope and promise of working together to right the many wrongs in our lives, and in our world. — Kirby

 

We will honor the Full Moon of Tammuz on Tuesday morning, July 7.  Our next Rosh Chodesh walking meditation will be Wednesday morning, July 22. Both meetups are are at 7:30 am.  Social distancing will be observed.  Contact us for location.