Monday, October 12, 2015

So Heavy

So Heavy

“Heavy, isn't it?”

The first time someone, usually a Bat or Bar Mitzvah, picks up a sefer Torah scroll, really conveys the heft of the book. Maybe that's the real reason we keep using archaically outdated technology. The scroll has the weight of a toddler, is at least as cumbersome and almost as holy.

My JPS (Jewish Publication Society copy of Hebrew Scriptures), which I find quite accessible, just doesn't have that oompf. I come from people who make things. My Paternal grandfather made tanks, my very bearded father made gears. My Maternal grandfather and both parents have some art background. I've painted, fixed, planted, schlepped and slung coffee. Very kinesthetic, very tactile. Someone soaked, stretched, cut and sewed the parchment. They ground and mixed the ink. Then: ONE. LETTER. AT. A. TIME. wrote the five books accredited to Moshe by hand. They swapped out ink and pen each time they wrote G-d's secret, four letter name. An average, pretty devoted person can do it in about 3 years. A full-time professional slings it out in One. Year. Technically, we are each supposed to craft one in our lifetime.

Once a year we—maybe do a few shots of something stronger than wine—dance with these scrolls. We cradle them like babies. We press our bodies close like lovers. That's what we are: we are family. We are Lovers of Torah. We are Torah. And sometimes it becomes too heavy. And the person dancing in the middle searches out with pleading eyes fro some to share the blessing and the burden. The scroll is passed.

Sometimes it's heavy on the left, when we start out the journey, from the beginning. Then as Moses cries out one last time it grows heavy on the right. When it's fresh you spin and jump and sing. When you're tired and sweating you pray you don't drop it and scan for the some way to pass it along.


No one died to absolve our sins. Our numero uno prophet gets shamed out of the final destination while some noob leads his people to the Holy Land. But damn do we love that book. There's definitely an argument for idolatry. But I'm okay with it. Because today three generations passed around a scroll. Then a 14 year-old who is taller than me by a lot told us our story and her story. And those are now parts of my story. At the end of the day, Torah should be heavy. If it weren't heavy, lifting it wouldn't make us stronger.  

Monday, October 5, 2015

Sukkat Shalom

Sukkat Shalom

So, true to the holiday season, I ended up differently housed again. It's actually the first stint of semi-homelessness that I have had in a few years. And it freaked me the shit out. My battle with housing has run a thorough gambit. Anywhere from fun-loving living in my van in my friends' driveway, to legitimately not knowing where I will sleep that night. Mostly, things work themselves out: “What do you mean you need me to dog sit for a week and shower at your place and have heat and lights? Sure, I guess I can.”

Twice in my life, I remember praying with all my heart, all my soul and all my might. Both involved the fear of not knowing where I would live and sleep. Both times my prayers were answered, within the day. Part of it is obviously the work I put into finding housing that happened before those hiccups, but the work I put into that prayer was still work. And when it all pays off in the end, my sense of relief credits the whole compilation of work expended.

This Sukkot, 5776, I was settling into my friend's home office, which is now my home. This is the first year that I've really done all four of the holidays (tonight is Simchat Torah). This week I have shaken the lulav, and eaten in a Sukkah. And what a blessing the festival has been as I question my sanity having moved back to a city. But I can sit outside with community for four hours breathing fresh air and eating from the harvest. I'm not sure what they're harvesting in Israel this week, probably fruit that we can't even grow here: lemons, pomegranates. But some things are universal, so a squash salad also seemed very festive and proved that the story need not be literal to be true.

Did I live in a booth on the edge of my fig or date field? No. I don't have those things. I have a couch and two amazing friends that I'm getting to know way better than I ever thought I'd have the opportunity to do. But I did get a last bit of glorious outside time, in the city, and before Winter. I did spend holy time with community. I bumped into a friend's sister. I fulfilled an illogical mitzvah (who doesn't love shaking inedible produce?). I learned that the parts of life that are important and the parts of life that are fragile are different, overlap, and are the same. I definitely had a week of festive blessing which will help me dwell in a sukkat shalom, a shelter of peace and wholeness, for at least the year to come.

Sukkot (5772)

….Now is when I must
Trust
And put my faith in G-d, Ribono Shel Olam
Who has yet not let me down

Though sleeping out
Hashem made soft the ground
And Adonai no matter how hard I try to hide
I am found