Category Archives: Holy Days

Hineni – at Hillel at Oklahoma University, Norman, OK – Rosh HaShanah Morning 5779 – Monday, September 11, 2018

We’ve just met so it would be inappropriate for me to discuss politics with you. I think it would be silly, however, for me to pretend that there aren’t a lot of politics swirling around us. Plus, today is September 11th, which brings up moral outrage and political questions for most Americans.

Even before you could vote, each of you already mattered. (If you aren’t 18 yet, please know: No one will card you at a protest or when you call your elected representatives.) Now, here you are now, college students and voters. I have no idea what in particular each of you care about, how your politics animate you. What I do know is that – fighting for justice has been part of Jewish tradition since Abraham.

The Akeda (Genesis 22) – Hillel’s prayer book (machzor) provides the Creation story for our Torah reading today which would be a lovely, carefree way to enjoy the beginning of a new Jewish year, but Jewish guilt won’t let me let you do that. The second choice in our prayer book is the story of the Akeda. Jews all over the world are reading the Akeda – what Jews call “the binding of Isaac” – for Rosh HaShanah. Most of us dislike this text. It’s painful. It’s about suffering, questions, confusion, and terrible parenting. In a few minutes – I promise I’m not going to talk for very long now – we will read a horrible story. God commands Abraham to take his favorite son up to a hill, build a fire, and cut his throat (Gen 22:2).

Abraham stands over Isaac, knife in hand and is interrupted at the last moment by an Angel of God shouting his name – Abraham, Abraham!…Sacrifice this ram instead. (Gen 22:11-13) Phew. Isaac is saved from death. Abraham is saved from committing a heinous crime. God reassures Abraham – or maybe God is reassuring God’s own self – Abraham passed this test. Abraham is a real God-fearer (Gen 22:12). He was willing to kill his favorite son.

Do you think that Abraham should have rejected this command? Do you think that God should have apologized? Do you blame Isaac for never talking to his dad again? How could Abraham have known that this order was “true” or “real” or “holy”? Does this story make you hate Abraham – even just a little? [Are you distracted by the fact that he even had a favorite son?] I have a million of questions about this text for y’all, but I’m trying to just give one short sermon this morning.

Two Different Abrahams – Just 4 chapters ago in Genesis 18, Abraham heard God was going to destroy the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. Abraham confronts God fearlessly. Abraham condemns God’s plan as unjust. Abraham bravely bargains with God to save the lives of a group of people he doesn’t even know. Where was THAT guy on the morning God commanded Abraham to kill Isaac? Is there something that Abraham knew that WE can’t know that made it possible for him to follow this terrifying order? How can we listen and read critically? How can we evaluate what we hear and see? How can THAT guy from Genesis 18 be the same Abraham we encounter in Genesis 22 ready to murder his son?

*If the order of these texts were flipped, the narrative of Genesis could be teaching us how to become ever more thoughtful and brave in the face of injustice. However, at this point, the Torah is in the order it’s in. (This would be a useful moment to discuss the way Torah became what it is today, but I promised Jessica that services would end before lunch.)

I searched for answers, and, instead of hating Abraham and the Akeda story, I’ve decided that we get to learn this lesson anyway. It is better to stand up than to keep our head down and meekly follow rules. The Torah is telling us to evaluate what we hear and see – to stand against dangerous consequences. It’s about being true to ourselves – while trying to draw near to what we perceive as divine.

Hineni – So, it is each of our responsibility to stand up for whatever WE care about, whatever WE are passionate about. Stand up. Speak up. Embody OUR passions. Collect donations. Make phone calls. Join a campaign. Vote. Volunteer. Read articles critically and share the few that stand up to your criticism. Embody your concerns for the world. Be like the Abraham who doesn’t make us cringe. Be like the Abraham who protested injustice. (Gen 18:23-25) Follow the Abraham who focused on what was right for the most people, even the ones he didn’t know.

Don’t be like me. Erev Rosh HaShanah 5779 – Sunday, September 10, 2018

Don’t be like me.

A lot of people – when they hear about how I observe Judaism, they say: “Well, obviously, that doesn’t count since you are a rabbi.” I don’t eat bacon. I don’t fly on Shabbat. I do a lot of things that people think of as “inconvenient” or “unrealistic.” But a lot of people think I do this because I am super into Judaism and because I’m a rabbi. The truth is: A lot of the super Jewy things I do, I started doing them by mistake.

Part One: Shabbat – I fell into my observance of Shabbat. When I lived in NYC, I noticed that my money kept disappearing. In an attempt to put a stop to the leak, I quit spending money on Shabbat. I figured – if I could take 25 hours off from spending money, then maybe I could better understand where my money was going. I thought it would force me to plan ahead and to use money more wisely. It did.

To be fair, New York City is alive, awake, and waiting to take your money every minute of every day. I rebelled against the financial expectations of the so-called real world. It’s true that this idea is particularly Jewish. I might have been influenced by the culture of rabbinic school at the time. I still don’t spend money on Shabbat – which means I don’t go to stores or restaurants. It means that I have to plan ahead and I have to get my fun for free. Eating lunch at Hillel is free, and lots of other amazing things are free. Parks are free. Making and eating meals with friends at home is free – if you shop before Shabbat. I consistently plan ahead for Shabbat. Then, whatever I don’t have on Friday afternoon, I just live without.

In this way, just like AJ Heschel promised, Shabbat has become a true island in time for me, an island that welcomes my friends and family. Shabbat has become a healthy break from the cycle of consumerism that occupies the rest of the week, a break in the 24-hour news cycle that raises my blood pressure Sunday through Thursday. [Also, I’m not a jerk about it. If I’m staying at someone else’s house over the weekend, I don’t impose my customs on them, but I do ask in advance what we can plan without inconveniencing them too much.]

Part Two: Kashrut – I backed into observing kashrut, Jewish dietary laws. At the beginning of my studies at Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion, I lived in Jerusalem for a year. I ate my last crab in Jerusalem, and it was delicious. I still remember it well. I didn’t decide then that was going to be my last bite of shellfish. (Lev 11:10-12) Rather, I realized at the end of the academic year, that I had been choosing not to order shellfish and not to mix meat and milk. At this point in 2018, my house is kosher. I have four sets of dishes and only kosher meat has entered the house. If I were actually planning my observance of kashrut, I would have planned it this way – that my kitchen is kosher so my friends from all Jewish denominations can come over to eat with me. Though I didn’t plan it – my kashrut and my values developed together in the same direction with a result that feels authentically Jewish and authentic to my values. At this point, kashrut has brought mindfulness and a sacred nuance to my eating habits that I never would have expected.

Part Three: Kippot – I stumbled into wearing a kippah. Actually, my kippah story is the worst example. In this case, REALLY don’t be like me. Once, a long time ago, after a break up, I cut off all my hair (as one does). I started teaching kindergarten shortly after that and I wore a kippah because it was an easy way to get my kindergarteners to think about the difference between prayer and other stuff like arts & crafts and singing, learning and playing. My hair grew out, and kippot started flopping around on my head. They wouldn’t stay still. So I quit wearing them. This floppy ritual practice wasn’t “speaking to me” so I quit.

Twenty years later our new president proposed a way to register Muslim citizens. In response, a lot of Jews ranted about the Holocaust. I ranted about the American internment of Japanese families in California, in 1942. Filled with both anger and hope, I promised my Muslim friends: “Don’t worry. Japanese Americans and Jewish Americans won’t let this happen to you.”

Around then, my friend David wrote an article in a Jewish paper about how he resolved not to be a member of an invisible minority anymore. He started wearing a kippah (yarmulke) every day. The same week his article was published, I was preparing to go to a conference in San Antonio. David and his mother Glenda suggested that I try wearing a kippah. (Basically, I started wearing a kippah because my friends did.) 

I wore a kippah to the conference – it was a biblical studies conference, filled with mostly Christians, a few Jews, and even fewer Muslims. My kippah was an amazing conversation starter. Because of that kippah, I met incredible people, I had meaningful conversations. The author of a book I had read and loved introduced herself to me because of my kippah. And after that weekend, when I’m studying or when I’m praying, I wear a kippah. Wearing a kippah has elevated my learning and my prayer – in unexpected and wonderful ways – reminding me to stay connected to the Jewish tradition and to the Divine Source of All.

Part Five: Conclusion – Don’t be like me. Not only are my Jewish observances somewhat half-baked and backwards, they are also based mostly in habit and guilt and moral outrage. I fell into most of my Jewish observances. I stumbled into them without thinking much at all. You don’t have to be like me. You all have the choice to think critically about your Jewish observances. To be proactive, not reactive. A lot of rabbis would not tell you to experiment. They would tell you to learn and then do. But me, I’m the opposite – like it says in Exodus 24:7 נַעֲשֶׂ֥ה וְנִשְׁמָֽע׃ – Na’aseh v’nishma. We will do and then we will understand.

Like many, many aspects of Judaism there are multiple authentically Jewish ways to observe Shabbat, to eat mindfully, to be part of the Jewish community. Another day, I could give a whole sermon about how to make authentically Jewish decisions.But not tonight.Tonight, I’ll simply say this: Neither the Hebrew Bible nor the Jewish prayerbook stand alone. It is our responsibility to reach across space and time – to the Jews of the past, present, and future – to the Jews all over the globe.

To find out how to “do Jewish” in an authentic way, think about the Jews of the past, the Jews of the present, and the Jews of the future. Think about the commandments (Exodus 20 and Deuteronomy 5) and think about the traditions of Jews around the world. And then look at yourself. Be authentically Jewish AND be your authentic self.

I have only met a few of you so far, and we’ve only spent a short time together, but I already believe in you. You are here tonight, aren’t you? So, I believe in your ability to make conscious, thoughtful, Jewish choices. On behalf of the rabbis and educators, camp directors and cantors, Hillel staff members and Sunday School teachers who love you, THANK YOU for keeping Judaism and the Jewish community authentically Jewish while reflecting the images of all of you.

The Sunflower: On the Possibilities and Limits of Forgiveness, by Simon Wiesenthal

We invite you to a book discussion in observance of Holocaust Memorial Day – Yom HaShoah. We invite your participation and your questions. 

Lunch & Learn 

with Rabbi Vered L. Harris and Rabbi Susan E. Lippe

Thursday, April 24, 12-1pm

In-Person or Via Zoom Meeting ID 857 4813 1977

Temple B’nai Israel, Oklahoma City, OK

in observance of Holocaust Memorial Day – Yom HaShoah

Shalom, shalom. This is my list of discussion questions for a class about The Sunflower: On the Possibilities and Limits of Forgiveness, by Simon Wiesenthal (Originally published in 1969.) 

[We probably won’t get to all of these questions and/or these questions in this particular order. We are looking forward to including participants’ questions as well.]

The main question for this book is – Should Simon have forgiven the Nazi? Would you have forgiven the Nazi? That is the question that concludes the book. It seems essential to our discussion of the book, but it doesn’t have to be our first discussion question. [I would add to Wiesenthal’s question. What do you think it means that he never told the Nazi whether or not he forgave him? Would you have done it differently? Was he waiting for forgiveness or an answer?]

Does everyone deserve to die in peace? Why or why not?

What does it mean to “lose feelings?” What does it mean to “lose feelings for death?” Do you have any experience like this? What do you think they mean? OR: do you think this experience is limited to torture, trauma, and/or an attempted genocide? Why or why not? Related: Do you think the encounter with the dying Nazi re-ignite some feelings in Simon? 

Do you believe that the Nazi had truly repented? Why or why not? How would that change what you think about Simon’s response and/or your own response?

Why do you think the Nazi want Simon to have his things? Do you think Simon should have accepted them? Why or why not? Would you have accepted them? Why or why not?

What do you think about collective guilt? Wiesenthal comments on the collective guilt/shame of the Germans. “The question of Germany’s guilt may never be settled. But one thing is certain: no [contemporary] German can shrug off the responsibility. Even if he has no personal guilt, he must share the shame of it. As a member of a guilty nation, he must share the shame of it. As a member of a guilty nation he cannot simply walk away like a passenger leaving a tramcar, whenever he chooses. It is the duty of the Germans to find out who was guilty.” (93) Do you agree with Wiesenthal? Why or why not?

Personal Note: I’m offended by people who ascribe behavior to God in the Holocaust. We have no idea about what God was doing/thinking during the Holocaust. I think that it’s possible God shortened the Holocaust and/or saved a remnant of Jews, but I cannot know because I’m HUMAN. This is why this is not a question for our book discussion.

General Notes: 

So many people were affected by the Holocaust – Jewish and non-Jewish people, hetero- and homosexual people, people from all socio-economic classes, and more. We would like to share this topic/discussion with as many people as possible. Please feel free to invite any interested folks among your Jewish and non-Jewish friends and neighbors. Forgiveness is a universal value. Anyone who wishes to learn with us is welcome. Temple B’nai Israel is a welcoming place for people of color, people of any gender and/or sexuality, people with disabilities – for everyone. 

We recommend this book for readers ages 13 and up.

Talking about the Holocaust is hard. We strive to make this a calm, respectful, welcoming event focused on learning. However, talking about antisemitism, hate, murder, torture, and other events/ideas related to the Holocaust can bring up challenging emotions for anyone. We will understand if you don’t feel like talking and/or staying in the room for the full hour.

Old News; Same Story

9/26/14 – On Rosh HaShanah, in our prayer book (machzor), I recognized a piece that I remember word-for-word from my childhood. In fifth grade, I started attending Jewish summer camp. In our daily prayers, we read this responsively:

When will redemption come?

When we master the violence that fills our world.

When we look upon others as we would have them look upon us. 

When we grant to every person the rights we claim for ourselves.

(Gates of Prayer, 1978, page 103)

First, I felt a rush of joy at seeing and hearing these words again. Usually, I would prefer to skip most of the English prayers, preferring the Hebrew. However, these few lines brought back the hopeful feelings of sitting in the outdoor chapel at the top of the hill, overlooking the ocean at Gindling Hilltop Camp.

Next, I felt a rush of sadness. Since before 1978, many American Jews have been praying this prayer. And yet, these words fit right in with the complicated current events of 2014.

I also feel sadness for Israel and the Jews. Since June, I have constantly been ‘the native informant’ the representative of Jews in two different Christian communities. Most non-Jewish people don’t talk to me about Israel, and every day I think about what I want to say about Israel in this or that conversation. My heart is broken that many people see Israel as a violent bully in the Middle East. I wish this text could be woven into others’ perceptions of the Jewish people and the only Jewish State.

[Found in an old journal, Still sadly relevant.]

The Book of Ruth – Respectfully Rewritten for Today

In this translation, I focused mainly on Ruth’s relationships. Of course, there are a million deep, brilliant lessons in the Book of Ruth. This particular translation/re-written text is for the study of relationships in the Book of Ruth. However, the only creative license I really took was the coffee and cheesecake. (They probably ate onions with pita and olive oil and drank tea.)

Shavuot 5783 – 2023

The Story of Ruth

[Respectfully re-written for today.]

Rabbi Susan E. Lippe

In the days of the Judges, there were times of chaos and times of peace. During a time of chaos and hunger, Naomi and her husband took their two sons to live in the Land of Moav. (Ruth 1:1, 2) Naomi’s husband died in Moav. Her sons grew up and married Moabite women. Years passed. When Naomi’s sons died, she was left with two daughters-in-law and no grandchildren. Naomi decided to leave her daughters-in-law in Moav with their families of origin. Naomi planned to move home to Bethlehem in the Land of Israel alone. (Ruth 1:3-5)

Naomi told her daughters-in-law, Ruth and Orpah: “Turn back. Go home to your parents.” Both daughters-in-law answered: “No, no. We are staying with you.” Naomi said: “You have to go home to your families. You belong here in Moav. I will go home to my own people as well.” Naomi tried three times to convince them to leave her alone. (Ruth 1:8-13) Orpah kissed and hugged Naomi goodbye and went home. (Ruth 1:14) 

Ruth refused to leave Naomi. She said: “Do not ask me to leave you. You are my family now. I won’t let you go to the Land of Israel alone. Wherever you go, I will go. Wherever you call home, I will call home. Your God will be my God. Wherever you will die, I will be buried there too.” (Ruth 1:16, 17)

Naomi did not argue with Ruth. She didn’t say anything. They walked all the way to the Land of Israel together in silence. (Ruth 1:18, 19) After their long walk in the desert, they arrived in the town of Bethlehem, in Judah,  in the Land of Israel. The people of Bethlehem met them at the gate of the city. Visitors were rare. First one old friend and then another recognized Naomi. They rushed to embrace her. They exclaimed: “Is that you, Naomi? Welcome home, Naomi!” (Ruth 1:19b)

Naomi responded: “Please do not call me Naomi. That name means pleasantness. I do not see anything pleasant in my life. I feel sad and lonely.” Ruth and the women of Bethlehem told her: “We are with you. You are not alone.” Naomi answered: “I feel lonely. I feel sad. I feel angry and bitter. I’m so bitter that you should call me Mara, the Hebrew word for bitterness.”  (Ruth 1:20-21) Naomi’s old friends could not make her feel better, but they could not make themselves call her Mara either. 

Ruth followed Naomi to her old home. It was empty. They only owned what they had brought with them across the desert. They had no food left. In the morning sun, Ruth and Naomi realized that they had reached Bethlehem during barley harvest time. (Ruth 2:1) Silently, Naomi thought to herself: “One of these days we should probably look for the fields of my third cousin Boaz. Today I’m too tired, hungry, and sad to go look.” (Ruth 2:1)

Ruth went to look for a job on her own. When Naomi went back to bed, Ruth walked towards the fields. She tried to get a job harvesting barley, but the workers laughed at her. (Ruth 2:2, 3)

Boaz stopped by during a coffee break. Boaz saw a young woman sitting alone nearby, while all the workers were drinking coffee or tea and sitting in the shade together. Boaz asked the foreman: “Who is that sad woman?” Laughing, the foreman answered: “That is the woman who came with Naomi from the Land of Moav. She wanted to work here. Can you believe it?!” (Ruth 2:4-7)

Boaz did not laugh with the foreman. Instead he walked over to Ruth and introduced himself. He told her: “I heard that you travelled with my cousin across the desert. You came with her to Bethlehem, far away from your land, your language, your people, your family. You are welcome here.” (Ruth 2:8, 9)

He cleared his throat and said very clearly, loud enough so all his staff could hear: “Ruth, you are a good daughter-in-law and a good friend. God must have guided you to my field. You will be safe here!” Ruth was confused. She asked: “Why are you being so kind and generous? You don’t even know me!” (Ruth 2:10) Boaz looked around to make sure everyone was listening. Then, he responded: “You belong here. When the staff eats, you are welcome to eat. When the staff gathers grain, you are welcome to gather grain.” (Ruth 2:8-11)

Ruth praised him and expressed her gratitude. (Ruth 2:13) While Ruth helped herself to coffee and some cheesecake, Boaz told all of the men who worked with him: “God commands the People of Israel to leave the corners of their fields for anyone who is poor and hungry. God forbids us to take any grain we drop to our own barn. Remember to leave the corners of my fields unharvested. Also, if you drop some extra grain for Ruth and other hungry folk to take home, you will be rewarded.” (Ruth 2:13-16)

At the end of that first day, Ruth went home to Naomi with a full belly and as much grain as she could carry. When Ruth came into the house, Naomi looked up and asked: “Where have you been? What’s all that?” Ruth answered: “I went to look for a job, and I stumbled upon the fields of your generous, gracious cousin Boaz! He offered me food and a safe place to gather grain.” For the first time in a long time, Naomi felt grateful. She praised both Boaz and God. (Ruth 2:17-21)

Every day until the harvest ended, Ruth gathered grain in the fields of Boaz. She felt safe now that she was friendly with Boaz, and she no longer felt hungry. Ruth worked hard. When they saw how hard she worked, the workers who had laughed at her changed their minds. Every evening, she took care of Naomi – bringing her food and keeping her company, even though Naomi did not acknowledge her.

On the last day of the harvest, at the end of the workday, Naomi welcomed Ruth at the door to her house. Naomi displayed the presents she had prepared for Ruth – new clothes, new sandals, a comb, and some soothing lotion for her hands, which had suffered from daily gleaning, gathering, and carrying. Naomi sent Ruth to seduce Boaz into rescuing them from poverty. (Ruth 3:1-4)

Ruth felt nervous. Yes, she had clean new things to wear, her hair was tidy, and her hands smelled pretty.  However, her job was over. She did not know what would happen next. How would she even find food for Naomi? She went to Boaz’s giant barn. She could hear Boaz’ familiar laughter through the open door. Ruth timidly peeked into the barn. She didn’t want to be a seductress. Nervously, she tried to follow her mother-in-law’s instructions. (Ruth 3:5-7)

When he saw her, Boaz welcomed her. “Don’t be afraid!” he told her. He listened to her talk about taking care of Naomi and how nervous she was about where she would work next. Again, he told her: “Don’t be afraid! I will help you! You are my friend, and Naomi is my family.” Boaz sent her home with six measures of barley. (Ruth 3:8-15)

Boaz talked to everyone in town. He had a lot of questions. “Who is working in fields that Naomi used to own before she left? Who is making sure that Naomi and Ruth are safe in Bethlehem? Is Ruth dating anyone?” He checked around – from the little kids playing in their yards all the way up to the mayor and the elders at the gate. No one wanted to buy Naomi’s fields. No one wanted to be responsible for welcoming a poor, bitter old friend into their families. No one had asked Ruth on a date. Boaz was glad. (Ruth 3:16-4:12)

So Boaz and Ruth became more than friends. They dated, and then they married. Boaz and Naomi became more than cousins. Since Naomi was Ruth’s mother-in-law, she became Boaz’s mother-in-law too. With God’s help, Boaz and Ruth became parents to a little boy. (Ruth 4:13) All of her old friends celebrated with Naomi when she held the baby. She did not ask them to call her Mara anymore. Naomi’s grandson eventually became the biological ancestor of King David, achieving the ultimate Israelite family status. (Ruth 4:14-21)

The End.

You can get the Hebrew text of the Book of Ruth online on Sefaria.org (They also include an English translation and many commentaries and teachings – old and new!)

From Sefaria: The Book of Ruth is one of the five megillot (scrolls), part of the section of the Hebrew Bible called Writings, and is traditionally read on the holiday of Shavuot. It tells the story of Ruth, a widow of Moabite origin who insists on staying with her widowed, Israelite mother-in-law, declaring “wherever you go, I will go… your people shall be my people, and your God my God” (1:16). Ruth’s loyalty leads her to the field of her kinsman, Boaz, whom she ultimately marries. Together they have a child, who later becomes the grandfather of King David.

Note: Most people would never teach Ruth without addressing two important factors – the pledge Ruth makes to Naomi (Ruth 1:16, 17) and the meaning of chesedchet-samech-dalet – often translated as lovingkindness. While these are invaluable to the Hebrew Bible and to the Jewish People, I have chosen to focus on what Ruth can teach us about relationships this year. I don’t want Ruth’s many amazing lessons to be overshadowed by her most best-known contributions.

Yom Kippur 5778

Many Jews and Muslims are fasting tomorrow. I attached this weird but interesting article about it at the bottom of this post. Also, I ranted below – for a change.
Hineni. Oh, how I love/hate Yom Kippur! I love the liturgy of Yom Kippur. I love Yom Kippur tunes and tropes and traditions. Ki Anu Amechah! I always, always love the shofar and havdallah. But I hate fasting. So. Much. (Yes, “hate is a strong word.” That’s why I’m using it.)
I’ll think of you with love, my sisters, brothers, cousins in faith. I’ll think of your strength, your stamina, your determination, your cotton mouth.
I’ll think of those of you who cheerfully feed small children lunch while your stomach growls and your head pounds. I’ll daydream fondly about the makers of over-the-counter pain killers, starting around 3pm when my familiar YK migraine takes hold.
I’ll try to remember to cover my mouth when I talk to people because fasting breath is the worst breath.
I’ll think of my Beth Am friends who spent one post-Yom-Kippur morning at a Home Depot with me looking at sukkot blueprints and then joyously shopping for sukkot building materials.
I’ll think of my Muslim friends with admiration because they probably think that one day of fasting is a piece of cake compared to a month of fast days and because it’s so cool when our holy days line up.
I always think of the YK afternoon I fell asleep next to a dozing teen-aged RK Rachel Marder in the front row during the afternoon liturgy. I always think of Rabbi Janet Marder politely reminding everyone to take the lessons/intention/tone of Yom Kippur into the parking lot. (And how people behaved rudely in the parking lot anyway.)
I think longingly of Cantor Kay Greenwald‘s voice and of that time 2,000 people sang happy birthday to Rabbi Yoshi Zweiback at Kol Nidrei. (That was totally my idea, you know, my brother.)
I think of my stalwart clergy friends powering through Yom Kippur from the bima – teaching, speaking, chanting, singing, smiling, turning pages, blessing folks, remembering names, blowing shofarot, and, finally, happily welcoming havdallah.
I think of everyone who this year (!) won’t have to explain to work/school why we need a whole 25 hours off and why we won’t be “all there” the next day.
I always think of my grandma and my bubi who made the comfort foods that concluded Yom Kippur with joy and satisfaction and family. I think of my grandpa who washed all the dishes and who remembered the Hebrew blessing for wine, long after he forgot so many other important things by age 89.
I’ll think of you all tomorrow. I already regret not reaching out to each of you to apologize for my forgetfulness and insensitivities and errors this year. I’ll think of what I can do better next year. And I’ll re-dedicate myself to calling/writing/texting/visiting everyone I love.
And tomorrow night, this ordeal of heart/soul/body will all be over, but I hope my new hope and dedication will survive.