Blessings For The Sad

For when you are too sad to remember:

May your sadness be  felt as deeply as it needs to be
And may it lift in its proper time.

May you understand that just because some people can't be there at your sadness
Doesn't mean they don't love you.

May you be able to take pleasure in the pleasures of those around you
Even when you can't feel your own.

And may you not lose hope in the possibility of your own happiness,
Even when it is out of your line of sight.

כן יהי רצון

Malkhut: A Kavannah for the Last Week of the Omer Count

Written for the 2016 Kolot Chayeinu Anti-Racism Weekly Omer Counter

1.

We count the Omer for seven weeks, 49 days:

The loving kindness and benevolence of Chesed;

The strength and holy limitations of Gevurah;

The spiritual balance and beauty of Tiferet;

The eternal endurance of Netzach;

The prayer and intellecutalism of Hod;

The gateway of Yesod, collecting all of these sephirot and transmitting them to

Malkhut, the end of the chain, our human world.

Malkhut –  It is the culmination.

This is where we live, this is the here and now,

God's name in Malkhut is Adonai ha Eretz, Lord of the Earth. 

But in Malkhut we are ALL the lords of this realm,

We are one in the One-ness.

These are our laws, our nations, our communities, our religions,

These are our choices.

We are the rulers, here.

2.

When I was little I knew I was an American Jew

And I knew what that meant -- 

Ashkenazi,

European,

White,

UJA and Holocaust memorials,

Hebrew School and Fiddler on the Roof,

Chicken on Friday nights and Brisket on Passover,

Charoses made of apples, cinnamon, walnuts and

Manischevitz Concord Grape wine.

I was it, the Real Jew, a Pintele Yid, there was no other

And no other way to be.

There were, however, Others:  The Goyim.

Everybody who wasn't us.

My father sat in front of his TV, labelling every famous white person who appeared:  

Jew.  Not Jew. 

Jew.  Not Jew.

Jew was Good, Not Jew Bad.

Everyone was Jew or Not Jew, except for the, you know, them:

The S-words,

Literally the yiddish word for blacks,

Which could have been meant just as a description but wasn't, it was demeaning, no more than a step or two less disgusting than the N-Word.

And those people, the S-Words, were the Other times two,

The Permanently Not and Never Jews.

Even when i was really little I knew that this was a bad word to say and I was embarrassed for my father whenever he used it, which was a lot.

Because he was my father, I will make excuses for him:

Maybe to a people used to being The Other, it feels good to make someone else The Other? 

Or maybe it was a way to make himself more American, to be superior like all the other Americans, the white Americans? 

Or maybe, because he grew up on the streets of the Lower East Side and Brownsville, and he fought with the Black, Italian and Irish kids on the streets for survival, he thought he'd earned the right to be a tough guy? 

Or maybe he was just a racist?

I hope not.

But...

Well, I'm all grown up now

And is is upon me to face the truth

Of racism and Euro-centrism and privilege.

And that there are Real Jews

Of many colors and genders and nationalities and practices.

And I am only one amongst us all.

And because I know this truth,

I am obligated by Malkhut to be conscious of my choices.

Can I try tunes and prayer rituals that feel "weird"?

Can I be aware of my privileges without someone reminding me?

Can I shut up and learn from others?

Can I refrain from telling people I understand when I don't?

Can I be led by people I have never been led by?

Can I give up power I didn't even acknowledge I had?

I don't know, I guess I'll find out.

I hope so.

And really,

Brisket isn't very good for my health or the environment

And Manischevitz Concord Grape is cheap crappy wine

(I don't care, I love it).

3.

So here's a prayer for this world of Malkhut and all of us real Jews

In the last week of the Omer,

Making our choices,

As we gather at Sinai to receive Torah:

Baruch HaMavdil

Blessed Is The One That Divides,

Giving us the illusions

Of time and space

Of days and weeks

So that we may grow and learn

And take joy in the moment,

So that we may rest on Shabbat

And not go crazy,

So that we may count 49 days between Pesach and Shavuot.

We give thanks for this seventh week of the Omer

And the metaphor and earthiness of Malkhut,

Which gathers us in community

And takes us to the 50th day of the Omer,

Shavuot,

To study the choices of Ruth and Naomi

And join with all these real Jews waiting 

At the foot of Mount Sinai.

Blessed HaMavdil,

The One-ness giving us the joys of holy separation,

We are many and we are gloriously different

But we are also one in the One.

Please may we not divide ourselves against ourselves

So together, different and the same,

We may behold the Godhead.

So together, different and the same,

We may pray, forgive and be forgiven, study, create acts of loving kindness, heal the world

And receive Torah.

And let us say, 

Amen.

Plagues Are Not Cute

Plagues are not finger puppets,

Plagues are not soft and furry stuffed toys,

Plagues don't have googly eyes,

Plagues are not cute.

Plagues are not targeted attacks,

Plagues are not guerilla warfare,

Plagues do not show up in a court of law,

Plagues are not fair.

Plagues are not a bland topic for a mild discussion,

Plagues do not call for objectivity,

Plagues are not subject to ironic humor,

Plagues are not interesting.

No,

Plagues are disaster without explanation,

Plagues are revenge without a solution,

Plagues are acts of desperation,

Plagues attack everyone,

Plagues hurt the poor more than the rich,

Plagues kill the innocent as well as the guilty,

Plagues are not cute or fair or interesting.

So I drop wine onto my plate to remember all who suffered, Hebrew and Egyptian.

I drop wine onto my plate for the desperate acts that often come with freedom struggles.

I drop wine onto my plate so that I will not forget that

Plagues

Are 

Not
Cute.

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Thank you!

Trisha

The Color of Light: A Kavannah for Putting on Your Tallit

For with You is the Fountain of Light

In your light we shall see the light

      -- Psalm 36:10, translation by Robert Alter

God might be like the color of light:

When you look at it without holy separation, everything is bright and blinding.

But when you have the right tool, like a prism,

or a tallit,

You can set yourself apart and enjoy most of the colors:

And the world opens up.

But there are colors our eyes cannot see

And understandings that our minds cannot grasp but we know they are there.

When you have the right tool, like a spectograph,
or Torah,

You can perceive some of the unseen colors or at least posit their existence:

And the mystical opens up.

Perhaps 
When you have observed all the colors your eyes could see

And then learned about all the colors they could not,

Perhaps, after much time and effort,

You may realize

That it is all part of the One,

Each color separate and together, different and the same.

Flowing from the Fountain of Light,

Continuous.

And there you are, wrapped in the prism of Torah,

Opened up.

And you always were.

Amen

The First Two Years: A Yizkor Kavannah

I. The First Day

What?

Wait...what?

No.

How?  When?

Why?

No.

What?

No.

No no no.

II.  Shiva

Thank you for coming

Thank you for coming

Mmm, bagesl and lox, thank you so much.

You know you meant a lot to us.

Thank you for coming

Thank you for coming

Mmm, casserole, thank you so much.

You know you meant a lot to us.

Thank you for coming

Thank you for coming

Mmm, white fish salad, thank you so much.

It means a lot.

Yitgadal v'Yitkadash.

Thank you everyone, please go away now.

Go away.

Go away.

Thank you,

Amen.

III.  Sheloshim

Everyone went away.

Especially you.

One month later

And I don't know how to be.

Stop it.

IV.  Eleven Months Later

Today I brought a bottle of Scotch to shul

And many little plastic cups.

And just before the Mourner's Kaddish

I stood up and announced the unveiling.

Eleven months since you died.

I told a funny story

And poured out a drink for anyone who wanted one.

It was nice,

We toasted your life.

But you're still dead anyway.

You're still dead.

And I think I"m a little drunk.

V.  Two Years Later

It's Yizkor on Yom Kippur

And while the rabbi reads off the names

I'm going to tell you an embarrassing secret.

Sometimes when I'm watching TV

And an older couple comes on

In one of those commercials for Social Security supplemental health insurance.

And even though the dialogue is hokey

And the situation is contrived,

They are so warm and familiar with each other,

And you know they have been together for a long time

And plan to be together for a long time to come

And I can't help it,

It reminds me of you.

I know, right?

But I can't help it,

It makes me cry.

Only a little.

After all,

It's silly,

It's only a commercial for Social Security supplemental health insurance.

Oh, the rabbi just got to you.

It's good to hear her say your name again.

We remember you, together.  

Amen.