Psalm 30 – A Cycle of Renewal

Psalm 30 beautifully captures the constant undulation of human emotion. As this psalm describes for us, these changes in our emotional state are a natural part of the human experience, both on the daily level (evening and morning) and the epochs and eras of our lives (times of prosperity and times of descent into ruin). This is true not only on an individual level, but collectively as well.

Livin on the Edge

In the Talmud in the tractate Brachot (Blessings), the rabbis raise the question of what is meant by the mishnaic statement “ha oseh tefilato keva, ain tefilato tachanunim – the one who makes his prayer fixed, his prayer is not one of supplication.” One explanation given is that our prayer lacks supplication when it is not done “eem dimdumei chama – with the reddening of the sun.” While on a peshat level the rabbis may be referring to the need for one to be earnest in his or her prayer in order for it to be supplicatory, I think there may be another level to their words. Perhaps here the rabbis are also emphasizing the importance of being awake to the daily moments of transition, of remaining grounded in ourselves through the discomfort of not knowing what will come next and the fear of no longer being rooted to where we once were. Like the gradual shift as the sun reddens and night gives way to day and day to night, praying eem dimdumei chama may be being offered as a daily practice for us to remain present, conscious, and grounded through life’s changes.

Standing Before the Divine

Hi all! I wanted to share with you a recent piece I wrote for the Theology of Prayer class I am currently taking with Rabbi Art Green. This piece is another segment in the exploration of traditional Jewish prayer and embodiment. For those who are unfamiliar with the framework and language of traditional Jewish prayer, the “Amidah,” which I am writing about in this piece, is known as “the standing prayer,” “the silent prayer,” or sometimes even just “the prayer.” It is the central point of the traditional service, the crescendo in a long flow of liturgy.

Sweat your Prayers?

Whenever I am in a really good movement class, be it yoga or Nia or some other type of dance, I become grounded in my body and feel connected to The Force of the Universe in such a direct and visceral way. My movement then becomes a prayer practice – a process that wakes up every part of me, shakes off the dust, fills me with energy, and allows me to connect to something greater than myself. However, alive and energized from the movement, I often leave these experiences longing for a way to connect these moments of resonance to my Jewish prayer practice. I feel a profundity that I yearn to share in a community of shared language and experiences. At the same time, as I sit and stand and bow, singing and chanting my way through traditional Jewish prayer, I often feel as though I am only engaging from my shoulders up.

You Get What You Ask For

Last week in my homiletics class we were given an assignment to write a prayer that we can say to ourselves before giving a d’var Torah (sermon). I found this very useful in terms of thinking about what effect I would want my words to have. What would be the feeling in the room? What impact would I want to make? I can imagine it will be much easier now to write that 15 minute sermon that is due in a few weeks, having created this intention through prayer.

New Life in Old Age

As we prepare for Rosh Hashana at the end of this week we enter into one of the most spiritually powerful periods in the Jewish calendar. Rosh Hashana marks the intensification of a period of introspection or teshuva begun at the start of the Hebrew month of Elul, just a few weeks ago. We move from Rosh Hashana, the Day of Judgment through a ten-day period where our teshuva process is revved to its highest point, reaching its apex on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. The totality of these days are known as the Yamim Noraim, the Days of Awe. Rosh Hashana is a time when we thoughtfully examine the ways in which we have succeeded or fallen short in our relationships with ourselves, others, and the Great Power of the Universe.