High Holy Days in Pandemic Times: Finding Awe in the Unravel (Excerpt)
By Kohenet Dori Midnight, in collaboration with Elan/a June Margolis and Annie Rose London
5780 has been wrought with profound change, loss, upheaval, disorientation, hope, resistance, and resilience. Many of us find ourselves at sea, overwhelmed and longing for connection. In this time of social, racial, and economic uprising, of global pandemic, how do we engage with the beautiful, ancestrally-guided work we are called to do? This year, we are charged with reimagining how we do High Holy Days. This year we wade in unchartered waters. How might the Days of Awe serve this moment, and how might this moment serve the Days of Awe?
As we spin into Elul, the month before the turning of the year, we begin our personal and collective process of deep reflection and accountability that shepherds us into the new year. Our new year begins with ten days of ritual and practices in which we mourn, we fast, we pray, we consent to facing and feeling the vulnerability and precarity of being human. We dress in a shroud, we prostrate ourselves, we practice our own death and pray to be written in the book of life for a good, sweet year. This year, we are already in the depths, we are already in precarity. For many of us, it feels as if it has been Yom Kippur for months.
What if this time around, we are being offered the extraordinary opportunity to dream up our own Days of Awe, to answer what this present moment asks of us? Perhaps this year, we draw upon Jewish traditions of centering our practices in our homes and connecting with the essence of these days in our own way, inviting us into a new kind of intimacy and depth. Perhaps the sacred work this year involves hearing the calls for reparations, the call to dismantle white supremacy, ableism, transphobia, classism, anti-Black racism in Jewish communities and beyond, the call to tend to our most vulnerable siblings, the call to invest in community care and mutual aid, the call to slow down, the call for indigenous land sovereignty and wise care of our earth.
DAYENU: Remember We Already Have What We Need
Before we dive into this river of suggested practices, we invite you take a breath and approach these offerings with curiosity. Capitalism and systems of supremacy tell us we don’t have enough, we aren’t enough, and we’ll never know or do enough, so remembering that we have everything we need is a kind of resistance and magic. Isolation, uncertainty, and change may bring up old stories and fears: Who are my people? Where do I belong? Do I belong? I’m doing it wrong. Everyone knows more than me. Everyone else is doing it wrong! You get the picture. Greet them, notice them, and do as our people do with demons: offer them some honey, burn some cloves, chase them away with garlic, psalms, and a bell. The demon slaying technique may be different depending on where your people are from, but the point is, recognize those demons and don’t let them ride you or throw you off. This year, we embrace curiosity: what might emerge this year only because we are so far out of familiar frameworks?
ELUL: Practice Waking Up
Honor the dead ~ It is customary to visit the graves of your beloved dead during the month of Elul. Since many of us cannot physically do that, find other ways to connect with those who have transitioned beyond. Perhaps you can create a space in your home to put up photos or special objects that remind you of your beloved dead, which you can keep up through Sukkot. You may also want to find an outdoor space you can visit and bring a stone each time, as if you were visiting a grave. Click here for details about an Ashkenazi ritual for making soul candles by Kohenet Annie Cohen.
Recite Psalm 27 ~ We are guided to recite Psalm 27 every day in Elul. This Psalm is an anchor and guiding light, a remedy for fear, and a daily practice as we train for the intense spiritual Olympics that are the Days of Awe. The Psalm begins, “God is my light and my life; whom shall I fear? God is the foundation of my life; whom shall I dread?”
Sound the Shofar ~ As we are instructed to hear the call of the shofar daily, you can trust that there will be many daily shofar offerings online (including this daily morning Elul offering from our friends at Fringes), or perhaps there will be local opportunities for you to hear it in person. If you don’t have access to blow or hear the shofar, what sound can be your daily shofar? One year, I took on the practice of listening to Democracy Now! as a daily shofar blast. You can enlist any sound as your shofar call: birdsong, a kazoo or horn, a passing train or subway, your alarm clock, the sound of the spoon clinking your cup as you stir your morning beverage, your kids’ laughter. Take a moment to “listen” to something each day and ask yourself, “What is this calling me to awaken to?”
Begin to Return / Return again ~ Elul is the month we dive into our Teshuvah work, our work of individual and collective reflection and accountability. The first step is to recognize your missteps with love and acknowledge them. You can do this in writing or in chevruta – talking to a friend. Begin with the most intimate relationship, yourself, and move in ever widening circles, taking stock of your intimate relationships, work relationships, your relationship to communities you are connected to, ways in which you are complicit in oppression in both personal and more systemic ways, and in a kind of full circle, looking at your relationship to G-d/ess/exx/HaShem. Then, move from witnessing to actually allowing yourself to feel the impact. It’s not like “feel some feelings” is on your to do list. Create dedicated space for what some people might call “healthy shame”, like what is required for us to feel when we really f— up? Don’t get stuck there, visit that land of rich soil that is made being burnt the ground for the time that is required and then know when it is time to act. You are ready. Air it out, own it, take responsibility with witnesses who can hold you in accountability. And from this raw and tender place, you can begin to make steps towards repair.
Commit to Noticing ~ Elul invites us to turn our attention inward, not for the sake of self-improvement, but so that we can begin to see the unconscious patterns and behaviors that shape our lives and our resulting ripple in the ocean of life. One way to do this work is to commit to a practice of noticing. This can be done either by choosing one area of our lives to focus on and take note of, for as our teacher Taya Ma says, “The way you do anything is the way you do everything.” The invitation is to take daily note of your relationship to walking your dog, or brushing your teeth, or putting your kids to bed, or making love, or making breakfast (etc.) and be available for what is revealed to you. Elul is a month about returning to the Beloved; now is the time to be our own Beloveds by seeing ourselves with eyes of curiosity and love.
For the full reflection and rituals visit Kohenet Dori Midnight at https://dorimidnight.com/writing/high-holy-days-in-pandemic-times-finding-awe-in-the-unravel/
What is Neilah - Closing the Gates
The sun is setting on this holy day, but our tradition still has an 11 o’clock number up its sleeve. Neilah refers to the closing of the gates and symbolizes the waning hours of our atonement. For weeks we’ve been digging into our souls, for days we’ve been apologizing, and for the last 24 hours we’ve been depriving ourselves of comfort while confessing our collective sins. Neilah is the final mile of the marathon. Whatever comes next and the clean slate of a new year is visible on the horizon. We close Yom Kippur with a song and a final ritual.
The Yamim Noraim (Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur) are here. We’re tasked with reflecting on our lives and practicing teshuvah (returning). Through teshuvah we examine our actions over the past year, seek forgiveness from ourselves, others, and the Divine and dedicate ourselves to do better next year. These sacred days provide an opportunity to ask ourselves the hardest questions and explore all the nooks and crannies of our thoughts, words, and actions over the past year. What’s beautiful about this process is we’re given the awesome opportunity to meet ourselves exactly where we are and practice being accountable. Teshuvah is about living a reflective life and taking responsibility for how we treat ourselves and interact with our family, friends, loved ones, colleagues, and even strangers.
Practice Instructions: Let’s invite our full selves to this practice. Right now in the present, look back over your past year’s journey, while visioning out the potential in the year to come. Before working with the three simple steps below close your eyes for a moment and take a few deep breaths. Bring your awareness to this moment in time, check in with your breath and your body. Feel the seat beneath you. Now return to your breath. Notice how you fill with breath and then how this same breath is released back to the world. As thoughts arise, notice if and where they reside in your body. Notice where you feel tension, and observe your reactions and responses. Use the questions below to guide your teshuvah practice. Spend time with each question and invite yourself to write your most honest answers. This is your practice, your life, and your opportunity to bring your entire self to the process. Whenever your mind inevitably wanders or wavers (which is what minds do), bring yourself back to this work and this paper in your hands. See the holiness in the task at hand, your role in creating the life you want to live and the capacity that you hold at every moment. With every breath, you can use the practice of teshuvah to return, reflect, forgive, and move forward.
1. Reflect
Over the past year, did I fully live my values? Did I treat other people how I would want to be treated? What do I most regret? What am I most proud of?
2. Seek Forgiveness
From whom must I ask forgiveness? To whom must I offer my forgiveness (regardless of outcome)?
3. Letting Go & Moving Forward
How can I release myself from any residue of the past year? What do I want to practice, seek, or commit myself to this year?
May we all be blessed with a sweet & meaningful New Year.
In This New Year By Lee Hendler
In this new year:
I promise to work harder at being the best me I know I can be.
I pray for the strength to be reliable and fair,
A good listener and kind friend,
A person who thinks before she speaks,
Helps before he is asked.
I promise to work harder at holding back my anger
And unleashing my joy.
In this new year:
I pray for the strength to turn away from old habits
That fit me like my favorite old gym sneakers.
My mother doesn’t like the way they look but they feel so good to me.
My sister can’t stand the way they smell—she says they make her gag.
And my dog likes to chew on the laces even though that’s not good for him.
It’s hard to give up things I’ve lived with for such a long time.
In this new year:
I pray for the courage to act
When I know an injustice has taken place,
And all around me others are choosing not to act.
I pray for the wisdom to choose action
That will make a good difference
And may persuade others to act too.
In this new year:
I pray that I can remember to remember what I promised.
I promise a lot because it is easier to say yes than no.
Then I end up saying no to my yeses.
I hope this will be the year I learn to say no and make my yeses
The promises that I can remember.
In this new year:
I pray for patience with myself and all my loved ones.
The long span of history suggests that in difficult times
Hope does more for us than despair.
I choose to be hopeful about our future
And to act based on that choice.
I will be more than content with what I have.
I will rejoice in my fullness and work to assure that others have that same privilege.
I will watch less news and see more life, listen to fewer podcasts and talk to more family members.
I will make a new friend.
I will renew an old friendship.
I will get involved in a new cause.
I will learn one new thing every day.
I will tell someone who has never heard it from me that I love them.
Lighting Yahrzeit Candle By Karen Crane
There are stars whose radiance is visible on earth
though they have long been extinct.
There are people whose brilliance continues to light the world
though they are no longer among the living.
These lights are particularly bright when the night is dark.
They light the way for humankind.
This is prayer for our unseen grief,
A prayer for the dreams we lost.
A prayer to find meaning in the unknown,
For recognition that this too matters.
A prayer to name that not all is replaceable,
No matter how hard we try.
A prayer for grace, for ourselves,
And those trying to understand.
This is a prayer for the unsolvable
For the unknowable, for the unfair.
This is a prayer to make our invisibility known.
To make our grief feel deserving today.
Lives that we hoped would be.
Remembered quietly, privately.
Source of life, help us find peace.
Help us embrace one another in uncertainty.
Open hearts to our healing, together.
Give us strength to share our troubles,
And bear witness to the hardest parts.
Let our losses be meaningful.
Let our stories be meaningful.
Let our love be meaningful.
And may each memory be a blessing.
High Holy Days in Pandemic Times: Finding Awe in the Unravel (Excerpt)
By Kohenet Dori Midnight, in collaboration with Elan/a June Margolis and Annie Rose London
5780 has been wrought with profound change, loss, upheaval, disorientation, hope, resistance, and resilience. Many of us find ourselves at sea, overwhelmed and longing for connection. In this time of social, racial, and economic uprising, of global pandemic, how do we engage with the beautiful, ancestrally-guided work we are called to do? This year, we are charged with reimagining how we do High Holy Days. This year we wade in unchartered waters. How might the Days of Awe serve this moment, and how might this moment serve the Days of Awe?
As we spin into Elul, the month before the turning of the year, we begin our personal and collective process of deep reflection and accountability that shepherds us into the new year. Our new year begins with ten days of ritual and practices in which we mourn, we fast, we pray, we consent to facing and feeling the vulnerability and precarity of being human. We dress in a shroud, we prostrate ourselves, we practice our own death and pray to be written in the book of life for a good, sweet year. This year, we are already in the depths, we are already in precarity. For many of us, it feels as if it has been Yom Kippur for months.
What if this time around, we are being offered the extraordinary opportunity to dream up our own Days of Awe, to answer what this present moment asks of us? Perhaps this year, we draw upon Jewish traditions of centering our practices in our homes and connecting with the essence of these days in our own way, inviting us into a new kind of intimacy and depth. Perhaps the sacred work this year involves hearing the calls for reparations, the call to dismantle white supremacy, ableism, transphobia, classism, anti-Black racism in Jewish communities and beyond, the call to tend to our most vulnerable siblings, the call to invest in community care and mutual aid, the call to slow down, the call for indigenous land sovereignty and wise care of our earth.
DAYENU: Remember We Already Have What We Need
Before we dive into this river of suggested practices, we invite you take a breath and approach these offerings with curiosity. Capitalism and systems of supremacy tell us we don’t have enough, we aren’t enough, and we’ll never know or do enough, so remembering that we have everything we need is a kind of resistance and magic. Isolation, uncertainty, and change may bring up old stories and fears: Who are my people? Where do I belong? Do I belong? I’m doing it wrong. Everyone knows more than me. Everyone else is doing it wrong! You get the picture. Greet them, notice them, and do as our people do with demons: offer them some honey, burn some cloves, chase them away with garlic, psalms, and a bell. The demon slaying technique may be different depending on where your people are from, but the point is, recognize those demons and don’t let them ride you or throw you off. This year, we embrace curiosity: what might emerge this year only because we are so far out of familiar frameworks?
ELUL: Practice Waking Up
Honor the dead ~ It is customary to visit the graves of your beloved dead during the month of Elul. Since many of us cannot physically do that, find other ways to connect with those who have transitioned beyond. Perhaps you can create a space in your home to put up photos or special objects that remind you of your beloved dead, which you can keep up through Sukkot. You may also want to find an outdoor space you can visit and bring a stone each time, as if you were visiting a grave. Click here for details about an Ashkenazi ritual for making soul candles by Kohenet Annie Cohen.
Recite Psalm 27 ~ We are guided to recite Psalm 27 every day in Elul. This Psalm is an anchor and guiding light, a remedy for fear, and a daily practice as we train for the intense spiritual Olympics that are the Days of Awe. The Psalm begins, “God is my light and my life; whom shall I fear? God is the foundation of my life; whom shall I dread?”
Sound the Shofar ~ As we are instructed to hear the call of the shofar daily, you can trust that there will be many daily shofar offerings online (including this daily morning Elul offering from our friends at Fringes), or perhaps there will be local opportunities for you to hear it in person. If you don’t have access to blow or hear the shofar, what sound can be your daily shofar? One year, I took on the practice of listening to Democracy Now! as a daily shofar blast. You can enlist any sound as your shofar call: birdsong, a kazoo or horn, a passing train or subway, your alarm clock, the sound of the spoon clinking your cup as you stir your morning beverage, your kids’ laughter. Take a moment to “listen” to something each day and ask yourself, “What is this calling me to awaken to?”
Begin to Return / Return again ~ Elul is the month we dive into our Teshuvah work, our work of individual and collective reflection and accountability. The first step is to recognize your missteps with love and acknowledge them. You can do this in writing or in chevruta – talking to a friend. Begin with the most intimate relationship, yourself, and move in ever widening circles, taking stock of your intimate relationships, work relationships, your relationship to communities you are connected to, ways in which you are complicit in oppression in both personal and more systemic ways, and in a kind of full circle, looking at your relationship to G-d/ess/exx/HaShem. Then, move from witnessing to actually allowing yourself to feel the impact. It’s not like “feel some feelings” is on your to do list. Create dedicated space for what some people might call “healthy shame”, like what is required for us to feel when we really f— up? Don’t get stuck there, visit that land of rich soil that is made being burnt the ground for the time that is required and then know when it is time to act. You are ready. Air it out, own it, take responsibility with witnesses who can hold you in accountability. And from this raw and tender place, you can begin to make steps towards repair.
Commit to Noticing ~ Elul invites us to turn our attention inward, not for the sake of self-improvement, but so that we can begin to see the unconscious patterns and behaviors that shape our lives and our resulting ripple in the ocean of life. One way to do this work is to commit to a practice of noticing. This can be done either by choosing one area of our lives to focus on and take note of, for as our teacher Taya Ma says, “The way you do anything is the way you do everything.” The invitation is to take daily note of your relationship to walking your dog, or brushing your teeth, or putting your kids to bed, or making love, or making breakfast (etc.) and be available for what is revealed to you. Elul is a month about returning to the Beloved; now is the time to be our own Beloveds by seeing ourselves with eyes of curiosity and love.
For the full reflection and rituals visit Kohenet Dori Midnight at https://dorimidnight.com/writing/high-holy-days-in-pandemic-times-finding-awe-in-the-unravel/
What is Neilah - Closing the Gates
The sun is setting on this holy day, but our tradition still has an 11 o’clock number up its sleeve. Neilah refers to the closing of the gates and symbolizes the waning hours of our atonement. For weeks we’ve been digging into our souls, for days we’ve been apologizing, and for the last 24 hours we’ve been depriving ourselves of comfort while confessing our collective sins. Neilah is the final mile of the marathon. Whatever comes next and the clean slate of a new year is visible on the horizon. We close Yom Kippur with a song and a final ritual.
The Yamim Noraim (Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur) are here. We’re tasked with reflecting on our lives and practicing teshuvah (returning). Through teshuvah we examine our actions over the past year, seek forgiveness from ourselves, others, and the Divine and dedicate ourselves to do better next year. These sacred days provide an opportunity to ask ourselves the hardest questions and explore all the nooks and crannies of our thoughts, words, and actions over the past year. What’s beautiful about this process is we’re given the awesome opportunity to meet ourselves exactly where we are and practice being accountable. Teshuvah is about living a reflective life and taking responsibility for how we treat ourselves and interact with our family, friends, loved ones, colleagues, and even strangers.
Practice Instructions: Let’s invite our full selves to this practice. Right now in the present, look back over your past year’s journey, while visioning out the potential in the year to come. Before working with the three simple steps below close your eyes for a moment and take a few deep breaths. Bring your awareness to this moment in time, check in with your breath and your body. Feel the seat beneath you. Now return to your breath. Notice how you fill with breath and then how this same breath is released back to the world. As thoughts arise, notice if and where they reside in your body. Notice where you feel tension, and observe your reactions and responses. Use the questions below to guide your teshuvah practice. Spend time with each question and invite yourself to write your most honest answers. This is your practice, your life, and your opportunity to bring your entire self to the process. Whenever your mind inevitably wanders or wavers (which is what minds do), bring yourself back to this work and this paper in your hands. See the holiness in the task at hand, your role in creating the life you want to live and the capacity that you hold at every moment. With every breath, you can use the practice of teshuvah to return, reflect, forgive, and move forward.
1. Reflect
Over the past year, did I fully live my values? Did I treat other people how I would want to be treated? What do I most regret? What am I most proud of?
2. Seek Forgiveness
From whom must I ask forgiveness? To whom must I offer my forgiveness (regardless of outcome)?
3. Letting Go & Moving Forward
How can I release myself from any residue of the past year? What do I want to practice, seek, or commit myself to this year?
May we all be blessed with a sweet & meaningful New Year.
In This New Year By Lee Hendler
In this new year:
I promise to work harder at being the best me I know I can be.
I pray for the strength to be reliable and fair,
A good listener and kind friend,
A person who thinks before she speaks,
Helps before he is asked.
I promise to work harder at holding back my anger
And unleashing my joy.
In this new year:
I pray for the strength to turn away from old habits
That fit me like my favorite old gym sneakers.
My mother doesn’t like the way they look but they feel so good to me.
My sister can’t stand the way they smell—she says they make her gag.
And my dog likes to chew on the laces even though that’s not good for him.
It’s hard to give up things I’ve lived with for such a long time.
In this new year:
I pray for the courage to act
When I know an injustice has taken place,
And all around me others are choosing not to act.
I pray for the wisdom to choose action
That will make a good difference
And may persuade others to act too.
In this new year:
I pray that I can remember to remember what I promised.
I promise a lot because it is easier to say yes than no.
Then I end up saying no to my yeses.
I hope this will be the year I learn to say no and make my yeses
The promises that I can remember.
In this new year:
I pray for patience with myself and all my loved ones.
The long span of history suggests that in difficult times
Hope does more for us than despair.
I choose to be hopeful about our future
And to act based on that choice.
I will be more than content with what I have.
I will rejoice in my fullness and work to assure that others have that same privilege.
I will watch less news and see more life, listen to fewer podcasts and talk to more family members.
I will make a new friend.
I will renew an old friendship.
I will get involved in a new cause.
I will learn one new thing every day.
I will tell someone who has never heard it from me that I love them.
Lighting Yahrzeit Candle By Karen Crane
There are stars whose radiance is visible on earth
though they have long been extinct.
There are people whose brilliance continues to light the world
though they are no longer among the living.
These lights are particularly bright when the night is dark.
They light the way for humankind.
This is prayer for our unseen grief,
A prayer for the dreams we lost.
A prayer to find meaning in the unknown,
For recognition that this too matters.
A prayer to name that not all is replaceable,
No matter how hard we try.
A prayer for grace, for ourselves,
And those trying to understand.
This is a prayer for the unsolvable
For the unknowable, for the unfair.
This is a prayer to make our invisibility known.
To make our grief feel deserving today.
Lives that we hoped would be.
Remembered quietly, privately.
Source of life, help us find peace.
Help us embrace one another in uncertainty.
Open hearts to our healing, together.
Give us strength to share our troubles,
And bear witness to the hardest parts.
Let our losses be meaningful.
Let our stories be meaningful.
Let our love be meaningful.
And may each memory be a blessing.
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