The Seder is Holy Ground

 

What makes a space holy?

Perhaps history creates holiness. 

Maybe it’s in a glade surrounded by trees where centuries of wise woman spoke words of connection and mystery. 

Perhaps it’s accidental.  

Maybe it’s in lower Manhattan where thousands died and buildings fell and we all still go to cry and remember. 

But what if the holiness is intentional,

Created on purpose by us,

As a holy separation?

Imagine that I have a table with nothing on it,

Empty of content and meaning.

But then I take a glass and turn it upside down 

And declare,

“Everything inside that glass is kadosh, holy and

Everything outside that glass is khol, mundane”

And you agree with me, 

Then is that so?

And if I pick up the glass, does the holy air inside become everyday odorless gas?

So perhaps today we  can place a glass over ourselves,

Right here in this room where history and accident have us sitting around this Seder table at this unholy moment in time.  

So together, let us declare, 

‘We are telling a holy ancient story that is happening right now!

We are asking ancient and brand new holy questions, and

The air we breathe is holy air and 

This is holy ground. ‘

Amen

 

Before We Eat

Blessed Holy Wholeness,

As we sit here at our Seder table

To celebrate our gathering and our wonderful meal,

We mourn the bombing deaths of the seven World Central Kitchen volunteers 

Who only wanted to feed the hungry. 

We hate the war that brought them to Gaza

And we mourn all the assaulted and the kidnapped and the bombed and the dead. 

May all these memories be for blessings. 

And may those sitting at this table

Take responsibility for this world and

Do more to emulate the seven volunteers: 

May we seek peace

And pursue justice 

And house the homeless

And feed the hungry. 

Amen

Why Do We Tell This Story?

 

Why do we tell this story?

To remember when we were slaves

So that we have compassion for others’ pain

And we do not enslave others. 

Why do we tell this story?

To remember how we got to Sinai and Torah

So that we can recognize righteous struggle 

And have patience for the long hauls.  

Why do we tell this story?

To remember joy and bitterness with savory and sweet food

So that we can eat matzo brei, gefilte fish and  brisket

And charoses and marshmallow twists. 

Why do we tell this story?

To remember and endlessly discuss its meanings

So that we can ask questions and then question the answers 

Because that’s what we like to do.

Why do we tell this story?

To remember this narrative that creates a people 

So we can cherish our myth

And hope repetition somehow makes it true. 

Why do we tell this story?

To remember when we were underdogs and heroes

So that we can study the times when we are not

And do the right things no matter what.  

Why do we tell this story?

To remember what it felt like when we told it last year

So that we can remember the year before that

And the years before that.  

Why do we tell this story?

No Prayer for Purim

Trying to write a fun new prayer for Purim 

But

Having a hard time

Laughing about a story 

Of a stupid autocrat, a sex trafficking uncle, a humiliating beauty contest, murderous antisemitism,

And violent mass revenge against children. 

There’s a prayer in this 

but it offers no succor. 

So I’ll keep quiet.

Be Better

We want to understand

We know you have a rationale but

We don’t need that explanation,

Not anymore. 

We just want you to stop.  

This is cruel and brutal.  

There can be no justification

For what you are doing. 

It may no longer matter who hit who first

Or who is more sinned against than sinning. 

Be better. 

Amen

Blessing for the Lunar Month of Adar

It is told to us

That it was on the first day of Adar 

That Moses and God released

The ninth plague,

Darkness,

When no one could see

What was right in front of them.  

It is also told to us

That though this month begins in sorrow,

It ends in joy.

Purim!

When evil people plotted our demise

But we killed them instead. 

I don’t see the joy in that, myself. 

Blessed HaMavdil,

The one who divides,

Creating holiness with separation,
Dividing time into months with the moon,

Reminding us that everything waxes and wanes. 

Amen

Looking for The Holy

 

Blessed Sacred Mystery,

We search for the holy amidst pain 

And memories of pain. 

We touch the divine with our bodies. 

We feel the threats of violence and

We give thanks if we are alive and whole. 

Bless those who are safe. 

We fear for those in danger. 

We mourn for those who are dead or injured.

Bless those who are not safe. 

We must help if we can.

Perhaps that is where we will find

The holy.  

Amen

On My Toes

 

Art by Mike Cockrill

1

In shul Shabbat morning,

After we consider God-ness

Creating light, dark, love, unity and truth,

I stand for the standing prayer,

Legs together 

Like an angel with only one lower limb. 

I sway from side to side,

Seeking a chat with the Sacred Artist.  

2

I stand so I can shuckel,

Rhythmic comfort movements

Side to side

Up and down

Knees bent. 

Voice chanting 

As my body prays

Like an angel dancing in a mosh pit

Hopping with God and the congregation,

Acolytes to the beat of Tefillah 

(And it feels so good). 

3

Then I drop the angel thing

And stand with legs akimbo 

In perfect balance

To safely launch myself into the air three times:

Ecstasy! Sanctity!  Blessing!

God exists forever in this moment. 

Here I am

In holy conversation

And this is an excellent party.  

4

I stand for the need for meaning

When there are no answers. 

I stand for the divine Wholeness

In and around me. 

I stand for the glory of Oneness

From generation to generation.  

I stand for the thousands of years

We have prayed this prayer. 

5

Well, I don’t actually stand,

Not anymore. 

My knees hurt,

My back aches

And walking is easier than standing still. 

Worried about what others might think,

I used to lift up my carcass anyway, 

But all I could pray about was my pain

Which wasn’t enough. 

So now I stay in my chair,

Put the book aside,o

Scootch up to the front of the seat,

Sit up straight 

And pay attention hard. 

6

B’emet,

Sitting there

Slightly impaired,

I’m more aware 

Of my body 

As a vehicle for prayer 

Than ever before.  

On my toes 

In my heart,

I declare,

Holy holy holy!

7

And let us say

Amen. 

Please be seated.

How? A Prayer For Activists for the New Year

Art by Mike Cockrill

This new year is going to be

Difficult to witness and

End-of-the-world frightening,

With cruel enemies

Lacking nuance and compassion. 

How can this be?  

Amidst the brutality and the pain,

Amidst the illness and the injuries,

Amidst the boredom and the lack of sleep,

Amidst the outrage and the frustration,

You sometimes will want to be happy.  

How does that work ?  

But won’t feeling good  be obscene?  

Simple pleasures, selfish?

Should we eat well if others starve?

No more being silly! 

Can we still fall in love?

How did this happen?

Forgive the old for leaving you this mess. 

Know that they were left

Their own mess by their elders. 

Which they tried to repair in their time. 

Sorry, but it’s your turn.  

How will you be kind?

Bless HaMavdil, Creator of Time, 

As we gird our loins

For the battles and horrors to come. 

Help us remember to enjoy our lives

And make sure we get enough sleep,

Don’t ask me how.  

Happy New Year

Amen

Blessings for the New Year

 

May we have a knowing of holy wholeness, and may it know us.

May we understand that we are part of the One and we are complete as we are. 

May our  beginnings and our ends touch and may we, and all the world, know peace.  

Amen