Rosh Hashannah and back-to-school often come close together on the calendar and this year they crash into each other.  The transition from summer-mode to school/Jewish New Year was sudden and somewhat harsh.  But, here we are, on the eve of the Jewish New Year poised to recognize another year in a foreign calendar.

As secular as my upbringing was and my currently identity as a  Jewish person is now, this holiday has come to signify a sweet time of year full of anticipation and hope.  Apples and honey have long symbolized the sweetness of the new year and I find it very ‘sweet’ that I get two New Years every year.  That feeling of starting fresh, clearing the slate and setting our sights on new expectations seems a fitting launch into the crispness of fall and the final quarter of the business year.

I’m happy to get two ‘new year’ moments of contemplation and renewal.  I invite you to take it too whether you celebrate Rosh Hashannah or not.

L’ Shana Tova

Hannukah is here and it was much anticipated by the kids, as usual.  The first night was warm and fun and the dash of maturity that another year brought my kids went a long way to make it more meaningful.  Our annual ritual will go into effect tonight and it will be an exciting eight days of rushing through dinner to get to the candle lighting and present opening.

However, this year, which was challenging for a lot of people, combined with being asked to prepare a sermon last Sunday for Sacred Center NY, had me contemplating the holiday more deeply.  Hannukah, Christmas and Kwanzaa all have a focus on lights or candles this time of year.  The lights symbolize different things in each tradition, and in Judaism in particular, the Hannukah lights represent the eight days that the oil burned in the temple when there was only enough oil for one night.  That is the miracle of Hannukah. The Jews had just won a battle that destroyed their temple and there was only one night’s worth of oil to burn.  The eight candles on a Menorah represent the eight-day miracle.  So that begs the question:

“Why are there nine candles in a Menorah?”

Ah, yes.  The ninth candle.  That candle is called the Shamash candle. Shamash in Hebrew means attendant or servant.  The Shamash is the servant to the other lights. The menorah can only be lit by the Shamash. It is not OK to light the other lights with any other candle other than the 9th one.  As the attendant to the light, the Shamash is responsible for lighting all the others.

Each of us is a light.  We have the choice as to whether we live from that lit-up place or ignore our light.  During the holiday season, most people feel their light more acutely. It’s a time of giving, sharing, remembering those less fortunate and wishing strangers on the street a good holiday.  What I suggest this year is that not only are we all ‘lights’ but we are also Shamash. We are both light and the servant to the light because in every moment we have the choice to light other lights as we go about our day.  Hold that image for a moment.

If you were the attendant of other lights, is there anything you would change?

I am the servant to the light in my children, my spouse, my family, my clients, by neighbors and I’ve chosen it as my work.  Do I succeed all the time? God, no!  But I am reminded as we light the menorah every night of the power we have to celebrate the light—the light in every single being.

I have two kids visiting the neurologist now as bigger son had to be checked to rule out seizures. (Oh joy; oh rapture!) The result is he’s in the clear.  But it was the visit to the office itself that made for an interesting set of circumstances.

As the time rolled bye and we were waiting for results and paperwork in the waiting room, the office filled up (more and more) with very disabled children and young adults.  The range was from high level ADHD to cerebral palsy.  Wheel chairs, unprovoked hugs from neurologically challenged kids and a heightened sense that someone could dash into your personal space at any moment prevailed. I wasn’t taken aback by this but it was fascinating to watch my son’s face. He is self-aware enough not to stare or lose his composure in experiencing new ways that people can be.  But as his mother, I could ever so slightly see his brain working to figure out if he was susceptible to whatever made these new people different from him.

When he asked to wait outside with his dad, it was fine with me. I could tell he had questions to ask and needed his personal space back.  What I did not expect was that within a minute of my son leaving, I was swaying side to side shifting my weight from one leg to another as I tried to be patient and wait for my paperwork to be done.  It took me less than another minute to realize I was swaying at the same pace and rhythm as two other challenged patients in the room and a third was walking from another room to come join us.

It felt calming to sway.  It felt natural.  I wondered if we all really don’t just want to rock ourselves or sway but society has taught us to keep ourselves in check.  Babies love to be rocked after all.  People still rock a bereft friend or loved one no matter what their age. It’s one of the ways we soothe ourselves.  Someone invented a rocking chair for that very reason.   There’s something about that natural outer movement that brings order to our inner chaos.

I did stop myself once I caught what I was doing but only after a giggle of recognition and a sigh of gratitude for the respite.  I then left with my paperwork to meet my son at the curb outside.  It was strange though.  It was like walking out of a huge isolated bubble of safety into a different rhythm.  The one most of us are used to—the ‘real’ world.  The one we all conform to to get on with life.

Don’t get me wrong. I would not trade places with any of those kids but for a minute, their presence and the sharing of their rhythm help me appreciate that we all need time to just ‘go there’ every now and then.  To find our own natural rhythm, like tuning an instrument to itself, is an important key to aligning ourselves so we can handle walking into the world.  Do you know your natural rhythm?  Do you allow yourself to go there?

Passover was this week.  Another excuse to eat and a lovely opportunity to teach the kids a bible story.  The observance of Passover is the exodus of the Jewish slaves from Egypt.  The ‘pass-over’ part is about the Jews being passed-over when plagues and diseases were being inflicted on the Egyptians by God.  The doorways donning lamb’s blood were passed-over. (pretty!) The Jews knew to prepare for the onset of these plagues and in desperation for the salvation of his people stricken by disease, Pharaoh let the Jews be free. Once they were on their way, Pharaoh sent his army to stop them and therefore, Moses’ parting of the Red Sea as they forged on to freedom.

Over the years however, I have found my own symbolism for this annual observance of the Jews’ freedom from slavery.  It was a ‘breaking of chains’ if you will, and I look to this time of year to meditate upon what chains I may need to break free of.  What is holding me back from being fully myself or being fully at ease? Unlike a resolution or goal, the releasing of something that enslaves you is a deeper change that requires an inside-out transformation.

This year, I got more than I bargained for when the answer came upon me.  What bubbled up as this year’s focus was getting a difficult relationship straightened out.  That was confronting enough to deal with. However, when I shared it with the talented EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique) practitioner I work with, we bore down a little deeper to discover that the real chain that needed to be broken was anger. Not just anger as far as the relationship in question, but anger as an M.O. altogether.  Whoa!  

That’s all I care to share about that for now, but I wanted to give an example of what I mean by breaking free of what enslaves you.  This is big stuff.  It’s not for weenies.  But imagine what would be possible if you were really ‘free’. It as to be done to lead ‘a meaningful life’.

It’s icky sticky Valentine’s Day.  I don’t like it.  It holds no horrible memories for me, no early-life scarring or dating disasters and I am currently duly loved and cared for. The problem is I’ve never embraced this fabricated holiday.  It gives me the creeps.  It smacks of desperation.

There are those dear souls who feel unloved on this day and there are those whose efforts to demonstrate their love get disparaged for being off the mark.  There are yet others who feel let down by the anticipation of it all and this year, we probably can add vendors who are being made blue by those kept away from buying hearts, sweets and flowers due to budget cuts. Do we really need a day to commemorate love?  People don’t walk around all glowy like they do at the holiday season.  Love doesn’t seem to permeate the air—it seems that stress is the prevailing mood instead.  Who do we have to write to to get it off the calendar?  Hallmark?

I know this all sounds very negative and my cynic is seeping out everywhere, but you have to understand that fabricated meaning is not meaningful at all.  That’s what annoys me!  No wonder so many people struggle with this holiday.  The meaning is forced on us and expectations run high.  A day to celebrate love sounds good but the practice has become ridiculous.  Maybe it could be reinvented.

The day of love could be a challenge to all to show love and care without spending a dime.  A day devoted to random acts of kindness to those we know and love and to those we don’t know as well.  A day devoted to sharing of sentiments (OK maybe writing notes would still be allowed for those too shy to speak intimately) and offering our personal attributes and talents as the proof of our feelings.  A day of love could be a day where we spend five minutes (at least) imagining love emanating from ourselves out to every person in the world who needs it.  A day where we spend our energy on reducing suffering in the world.  Now THAT could be meaningful, maybe, if it appeals to you.  I wouldn’t want to force it on you, but I think I’ll give it a try.