Hanukkah Kavannot - 5770
An Enlightened Hanukkah 5770
Rabbi Sharon Brous
You don’t have to be a Jewish holy-roller to live a meaningful Jewish life. This Hanukkah, I offer 8 simple things you can do to live more meaningfully, more purposefully, more Jewishly. Whether you are atheist, agnostic, Jew-curious or a die-hard insider, I invite you to take on one new Jewish practice each night -- and dedicate (or rededicate) yourself to a life of possibility and purpose.
First Night: Go Off the Grid – Make Space for Sacred Time
There is a famous experiment in time management in which a large glass jar is placed on the table and students are asked to fill it with stones. Once it is at capacity, the instructor asks if any more can fit. Clearly, the answer is no. But then she brings out a box of small pebbles and pours them into the jar, where they slide into the cracks between the large stones. She again asks if any more can fit in the jar. The students again say no – certain that no stones would be small enough to fit between the pebbles. To their dismay, they watch as the instructor brings out a pitcher of water and pours it into the jar, water filling every inch that is not already full of stone. The message? Unless we do something to protect ourselves, our days will be full, our boundaries endlessly permeable.
Shabbat comes once a week to offer a powerful counter-testimony to the world of the Blackberry. With Shabbat comes the opportunity not to do, but to be. To remember that we are, ultimately, more than our work. Our worth in the world stems not from our ability to produce, but from our capacity to love.
Tonight, for the first night of Hanukkah, unplug. Rather than trying to control everything, to keep order over everything, this Shabbat power down. You can start with just one hour. Or, if you’re ready for a great adventure, take all of Friday night, or even the full 25 hours. In this crazy and chaotic world, make some sacred space for yourself. And instead of running endlessly to achieve, create, fulfill, finish – spend your time instead with the quiet celebration of things as they are. Look across the table at someone you love, or someone you want to love you. Close your eyes and breathe. Sing. It doesn’t have to be Psalm 92 – it can be Bohemian Rhapsody. But when you sing, sing with all your heart and without any apology. And in that song, find space again for your humanity.
Second Night: Wake Up with Wonder
The blessing we say before lighting the candles celebrates the miracles that happened for our ancestors (bayamim ha-heim) and those that continue even in our day (u’bazman hazeh). Faith begins with a recognition of the mystery, the majesty, the vast beauty and possibility of the world. But it’s so hard to see beyond our longing and brokenness. How do we begin to cultivate a consciousness that is open to the miraculous that surround us every day?
Jewish spiritual practice helps us train our eyes to recognize miracles through perceiving the magnificence of the world. “Look at the world as if you have just entered it,” the Alter of Slabodka, Rabbi Natan Tzvi Finkel, teaches. “Look at everything around you with newness each day and you will transform monotony into exhilaration.”
Let the second day of Hanukkah be the beginning of your spiritual workout this year. Commit tonight to trying to wake up tomorrow to the great surprise of life itself:
מוֹדֶה אֲנִי לְפָנֶיךָ, מֶלֶךְ חַי וְקַיָּם, שֶׁהֶחֱזַרְתָּ בִּי נִשְׁמָתִי בְּחֶמְלָה, רַבָּה אֱמוּנָתֶך.
Modeh/ Modah ani le’fanekha melech hai v’kayam shehehezarta bi nishmati b’hemla raba emunatekha.
Thank You, Source of Life,
for with mercy You have restored within me my soul.
How awesome -- that You believe in me.
These words, said in the first moment of consciousness each day, are a humble recognition that the mere fact of living is a miracle, that there is beauty even in pain, that there is light even in the darkest moments. That each day brings with it endless possibility – and therefore today could be the day that everything changes. Print these words out and put them beside your bed. Then try to start the day with awe, wonder and gratitude.
Third Night: Lie Down with Forgiveness
It’s a spiritual purge at the end of a long day.
Just as the first words you wake up with can prepare you to face the world with gratitude and wonder, the last words you say before drifting off to sleep can release you from the burden of the day’s arguments, disappointments and unfinished business.
Master of the Universe, I forgive every person who angered or offended me today…
The Rabbis said that the recitation of Bedtime Shema keeps the demons away (Talmud Bavli, Berakhot 5a). Will it magically protect you? At the very least it will honor your vulnerability and give you strength, comfort and routine at the end of what may have been a day of tumult.
Tonight, try reciting the Bedtime Shema with your children before bed – it is a powerful way to remind them that forgiveness is possible, that there is something bigger than them at work in the universe, and that while it’s natural to be afraid, even in the dark quiet of night they are never alone. But remember that this ritual is not only for children. For adults it could be the key to a sleep that is untroubled and even healing. You can recite anything from the one line of shema to the full bed time liturgy, which includes the offering of forgiveness and the request that God protect us, especially when we are weakest and most vulnerability (for the abridged and the full text, click here). Take a moment to release yourself from the stranglehold of the day so that you can wake up refreshed and renewed, ready to embrace new possibility.
Fourth Night: Thank Before You Eat
Mother Theresa once visited a desperately poor family whose children who hadn’t eaten in days. She walked into their crowded hut holding a platter of food, her every step followed by hungry eyes. The children’s mother graciously took the platter from Mother Theresa’s hand and disappeared behind the hut for a few minutes. When she returned, she called her family around to eat, but half the food was missing. Where did you go? Mother Theresa asked. My neighbor, the woman answered, my neighbor and her children are as hungry as we are. I gave them half of what we have. Mother Theresa was stunned – by the woman’s selflessness, but even more so by the fact that this hungry person was spiritually awake enough to realize that there are others who are hungry as well.
There is a simple way to begin to cultivate that kind of wakefulness. By offering blessings before taking the first bite, the Jewish tradition hardwires in us the idea that to eat is to be a beneficiary of a rare and magnificent gift. It is to recognize that our earth sustains us and needs to be protected. It is to acknowledge that our smallest snack is the finished product of the labor of many – from those who plant to those who reap to those who bake and package and ship and truck and stack on the grocery shelves. And it is to recognize, with humble gratitude, that most people in the world don’t have access to food the instant they desire it. It will change the way you eat. CLICK HERE to find the simple Jewish formula for blessings over various foods.
Try it. Next time you grab a pint of Haagen Dazs out of the freezer, take a moment before you indulge to say thank you and mean it.
Fifth Night: Everything and Nothing
The story goes that the rabbi, overwhelmed by the vast challenges facing her community, falls to her knees and cries out, "Oh, God, I am nothing! I am nothing!" The cantor, so moved by the rabbi’s passion, prostrates himself as well, crying out "Oh, God, I too am nothing! I am nothing!" The synagogue president, touched by the fervor of their prayer, joins them on the ground and cries out, "Oh, God, I also am nothing! Nothing at all!"
At this the cantor nudges the rabbi and says, "Look who thinks he's nothing."
As Jewish jokes go, it’s a decent one, mocking the smug self-satisfaction that often comes with piety. But there is a humility that is neither hubris nor dressed-up insecurity, a humility modeled by Abraham when he realizes the utter absurdity of his moral challenge to God over the plan to destroy Sodom and Gemorrah. I am but dust and ashes, he says – I understand very well just how little I understand. My life is momentary and finite, my greatest worries and deepest dreams will fade in an instant and may barely be remembered.
And yet, in the same breath, we are challenged to cultivate what seems to be a completely contradictory impulse – the affirmation that our lives are purposeful and consequential. I matter. I am not everything but I am something, and the world will be impoverished if I am not me.
The Hasidim determined that one way to help reinforce this dual consciousness is to walk around each day with a slip of paper in each pocket. One piece says אנכי עפר ואפר -- I am but dust and ashes and the other: בשבילי נברא העולם -- For my sake the world was created. Try it tomorrow. When you need to be taken down a notch or reminded that even the terribly monumental will eventually pass, pull out dust and ashes. And when you need to remember that your voice matters, pull out For my sake. It just might shape the way you experience the day.
Sixth Night: Making Time
A man I know walked out of his office last year in the midst of heated negotiations over a $100 million deal because he had promised his kids he’d take them rock climbing that afternoon. In retrospect, he now says that he sees that money left on table as best investment of his life.
The Rabbis tell us that there are six questions we’ll be asked on the Day of Judgment to determine if we lived life fully. One of the questions: kavata itim la’torah – did you set aside time to study Torah? This question can be read broadly: did you make time for the things that matter most? Or did you run through life watching months turn into years, only regretting that you didn’t do what you always wanted to?
Let the sixth night of Hanukkah this year be the night that we rededicate ourselves to something that matters deeply, but that continually gets pushed to the backburner. Leave work a bit early on Wednesdays to pick your kid up from school. Make a date night. Designate Sunday morning to read one chapter from Genesis with a friend.
Seventh Night: Erring on the Side of Presence
A few years ago, my dear friend – a beloved rabbi – lost his mother after a long struggle with illness. Of the thousands of members of his congregation, and his hundreds of friends and acquaintances, he received only a handful of phone calls from people offering condolences -- the sting of his grief was now compounded by a deep loneliness. “We thought you needed your space,” he was told afterward when he asked where the community had been. Err on the side of being too present! he now says. Just showing up is actually a Jewish value.
The Rabbis tell us that when God decides to send three angels to bring comfort and support to Abraham after his surgery (Gen. 18), they offer all manner of objections: Abraham needs his privacy, it will be uncomfortable to be there, etc. But God tells them that it is precisely the darkest, loneliest and scariest corners of the earth that need our presence.
Who needs to hear your voice? Who needs a visit? Let’s rededicate ourselves to the spiritual practice of being present on this, the seventh night of Hanukkah.
Eighth Night: Giving Wholeheartedly
One of my favorite stories: A young man came home from work one day and announced to his wife, “Sweetie, I have wonderful news! I got a $1000 bonus of today. Where should we donate $100?”
“Are you out of your mind?” she replied. “We’re struggling to survive! We’re in no position to donate so much money – we’re not even stable ourselves!”
“OK,” he responded, “let’s try that again: Sweetie, I have wonderful news! I got a $900 bonus today.”
This couple eventually became some of the most generous philanthropists in the Jewish community – guided by the conviction that tzedakah is not an act of kindness, it is a moral obligation. Tzedakah, working to realize justice in the world, is the ultimate Jewish spiritual practice. How can you be sure that the light of Hanukkah continues to inspire after the holiday ends tomorrow? By giving generously to help bring more justice, healing and light into the world.
Here’s one great ways that you can contribute to a more vibrant and vital Jewish future and a more just world: IKAR’s ISAIAH FUND has inspired thousands of hours of volunteer work and generated critical funds for our community by collecting funds that can be released to IKAR only when we go out and work toward the justice, dignity and peace. We are hoping to start the new year with a robust Isaiah Fund, and I am able to match all contributions that come in by December 31st through my donor advised fund from the Jewish Community Foundation, so now is the time to give. CLICK HERE TO CONTRIBUTE TO THE ISAIAH FUND.
Tonight is the last night of Hanukkah. I pray that the inspiration from this celebration of light motivates us to bring healing and hope into our homes, our community, and into the fragile balance of our world.