For the Sins We Have Committed...

I was asked on behalf of the social justice team at Lab/Shul to adapt a popular High Holiday prayer that's known as the "Al Cheyt." Literally, a prayer "for the sin" where we list the sins we've committed as a community and ask forgiveness for the litany of sins. The frame was to discuss the way the USA has handled immigrants. Even though I couldn't cover everything, we've edited it down quite a bit from this version for the sake of services this holiday season, but I was encouraged to post it in its entirety for those who are interested in reflecting on this topic.

I took language from and was inspired by the call in Psalms, where we’re told “ Champion the weak and the orphan; uphold the downtrodden and destitute. Rescue the weak and the needy; save them from the grip of the wicked.”

Al Cheyt - For the sins of falling short as a community, and as a nation

Sheridan Gayer ed. Sue Ellen Dodell

For the sins our community has committed:

For forgetting our obligation to champion the weak, the orphan, and the stranger

For forgetting that our people also arrived seeking asylum

For not having shown up for asylum seekers

For forgetting that our people also arrived seeking asylum 

For ignoring the downtrodden and destitute

For thinking: “Someone else will show up and show support.”

For tuning out more often than tuning in

For forgetting to ask: “How can I help?”

For hearing calls from souls broken, injured, or in harm's way and leaving them unanswered

For sitting idly by while children suffer and die in detention camps

For allowing hate to be stirred, fomented, and spread

For allowing cement floors to be beds

For categorizing new immigrants as fruit-pickers and dishwashers, not as community leaders and business owners

For not doing our part to lift up NYCs small businesses which are nearly 50% immigrant-owned 

May we learn to stand when we once sat

May we learn to speak up when we once were silent.

May we learn to march in the streets when we once restrained ourselves to social media posts

May we learn to reach out to our leaders to protect the immigrant, for we were once immigrants, in this generation and in all the generations which came before us

May we continue to plead until our prayers are heard: let us raise our voices to our government and demand that our leaders defund hate.

Because we know hatred only breeds more hatred.

May the Source that makes forgiveness possible, forgive us, pardon us, and make atonement possible.

Eldridge Street Synagogue's Rose Window (June 8, 2014)

Longing and Belonging: Limmud Conference Sermon Slam (in the UK)

Don't know what a sermon slam is? Think slam poetry, The Moth, a d'var torah (aka Jewish sermon) and whip them together into a 5-minute performance... The theme was "Longing and Belonging, at the end of the book of Genesis" ... I took it a little liberally...

~~~~

I don't know if you remember the first book of Torah that you read in your native tongue. That first chunk of Tanach you sat and read cover to cover, start to end. Instructed only to understand the grace of the language or story before you.

My first cover to cover story was Job. Iyov.

Job

An English assignment given my senior year in my public high school. By the way, the first I’d read in Hebrew was Eicha - Lamentations.

Good luck to me and my theology.

The Job assignment was actually on adaptation [and was followed by a reading of the play JB by Archibald Macliesh (I recommend it.)] But before that, we dove deep into the Torah. When a classmate attempted to read aloud the Hebrew of God's poem, the voice from within the whirlwind, I learned the complicated poetry of Torah and I also learned that

Job of Ur was not a Jew.

So I went through the rest of my life just knowing this. Job did not belong to ‘us.’ But his deep, deep loss and longing was ours to witness.

From Eicha to Job, the ancient Jewish literature I'd been exposed to outside of Shabbat services was gritty and complicated. Like my dear Maya Angelou the poet. The author who'd inspired me for years. She was able to tell deeply personal stories. Dirty secrets and all.

God seemed to have spared no secrets from us, the Israelites in ancient times, tales which now belong to each of us, readers of Torah. And so I was ready to engage with a God who kept no secrets from me. In fact, before I got intimate with Job I was intimate with Kabbalah.

(I know, right?)

I don't know if you remember the first sermon you slammed, the first Jewish text you taught. But mine were the kabbalistic teachings of Isaac Luria who gives to us that when our endless God, (known as) Ein Sof created the world a shattering had to occur to make space for us and the world as we know it, and divine sparks spread across our universe. Ein sof left these sparks, markers, for us to gather, to act in concert with God by committing an act of repair, of Tikkun Olam.

What is your Tikkun olam? Is it the Torah you teach or the Torah you practice? Is it the way you spread light in the world, or amongst your closest friends? No matter the reach, your Torah, you, have value and worth beyond measure. So share yourself. Bring the spark. Or perhaps, you can let the spark be brought to you.

Just four years after I'd first uncovered Job I sat where God often isn't. Summer school. In a theology course. There, we re-approached Job with a professor who said, "I learn from my students, and I teach what they say when I lecture across the country, but I've never been given reason to quote my undergraduates" I gave him a reason. He asked why Job has been included in our canon. My answer felt trite to me.

When he teaches Job, he teaches me. And it seems, whenever I learn, Job finds me. Recently, I picked up the newest book written by my most revered teacher, Adin Steinsaltz. It's called "My Rebbe" about the Lubuvitcher rebbe.

Until just a few years ago the very thought of the rebbe made me shiver. When I was living in California and he was ill, I attended Lubavitch yeshiva. We were made to fast for him twice. I was in 5th grade. You can imagine that went over none too well.

But back to, My Rebbe. Not even a full page in, Steinsalz writes "The concept of holiness is not confined to traditional Jewish thought; nor are holy people only Jews. An entire book of the Bible tells the story of one such holy man who was not a Jew: Job.  His conversation, as presented in Scripture, speaks of the spiritual realm, about a connection beyond the everyday world."

And in the next chapter, he focuses on the idea of Tikkun Olam referencing first its mention in the Aleinu prayer. He explains: “The work is ours to do. None of us is exempt from this universal mission. The completion of the world, its elevation into holiness and the elimination of evil: these tasks belong to all of us. In this way, we achieve God’s purpose in creating humanity.” He goes on to say Chasidic thought here rests on an ancient mystical tradition: the world is imperfect because God is hidden. It is true that – whether revealed or hidden – the Almighty is everywhere. A godly spark resides within everything in creation.”

Somehow my Torah is Steinsaltz’s Torah, is his Rebbe’s Torah, is my Torah. Perhaps we are all invited to be part of this cycle of Torah.

So I ask you now: What is your Torah? What text circles its way back to you over and over and over again? What is holy to you? What is the Torah that BELONGS to you? That can be taught in your name?

Mine might be: If faith in our Lord can be held by the downtrodden non-Jew, shouldn't it also be held by you? [It should certainly be held by me. A keepsake.] If we can find space for a stranger to belong, then I can find space in my own life to bring Light to the Plight of a stranger. If the Torah can be used as a tool to understand God, if it can be used as a tool to understand humanity, if we can understand those who long to belong, then TORAH becomes a tool to understand holiness.

I want to be immersed in Torah for the rest of my life. As long as Torah continues to change lives.

That's all I'm asking as you arrive at the end of your Genesis. Each time you approach Torah or Torah approaches you. Make space. Make space in your heart. Make space in your life. [And] make space in your dreams. If you create room for Torah, however you define it, however you teach it, your path will be more clear, your heart more complete, your teachings spread amongst all who are here to listen...

Brooklyn is Calling, Creepily!

This past Monday morning I was meeting with one of my staff members when I saw that I'd missed multiple calls from the same 718 phone number. I was certain that I hadn't exchanged digits with anyone in Brooklyn or Queens recently, at least not someone who'd be leaving me multiple voice mail messages well before noon. While it's pretty rare for me to check my personal messages during the workday, my grandmother lives in a 718 area code and I thought it could be a call from a hospital or something equally scary, so I gave the messages a listen.

[Message 1:] Good morning Sheridan. This is Lincoln High School, and I'm calling just to let you know that your son came to the medical room and when he was on the train he slipped and hurt his ankle a little bit, so I'm having him put ice on it and I'm going to give you a note to bring him to the doctor if it's still swollen and painful. Thank you very much. Like I said (she hadn't said) if you have any questions ## and name of caller.

Well, at least she was polite, right? The next voic email was left twenty minutes later. Before I hit play I'm sure it's going to say, "So sorry for the message, we called you mistakenly." Instead I hear:

[Message 2:] Hi Sheridan, How ya doing? This is **** from Lincoln High School (same caller). If you could come pick up your son, um, because he fell on the train at 8 in the morning, if you can please give us a cal back at (direct number) this is the medical room and your son is in the medical room, and he has some pain in his ankle, OK? Bye.

What's so crazy about these calls from a high school in Brooklyn? First, the obvious: I don't have a son. Yet, the caller just used my name. I run through the possibilities in my head: does she mistakenly have my name and phone number as an emergency contact for someone? (I also don't have a relative with a high school aged kid.) Did she hear me say my name in my greeting and decide to use it in the message without checking who she should be calling? If she grabbed the number from the injured party, is there a kid in Brooklyn just hoping some rando will get him out of school? The scenarios on this are endless, I conclude, as another five possibilities stream through my mind.

You're already on board with this being truly odd, right? I mean, particularly if you're in education, you know an incorrect emergency contact could be the worst thing. And I'd consider it possible that she'd just transposed a number, but it's scary that someone in the medical center would have number dyslexia, no? (And shouldn't a name be hand in hand with an emergency number in all circumstances?) Anyway, for the sake of this poor kid who wanted to be coddled by his mom, and hopefully not in need of more urgent medical care, I called back the medical center to let them know of their mistake. The person I reached claimed not to be the original caller, who'd "stepped away," though I'd be willing to swear that it was the same voice.

So even if we've given the mistaken caller the benefit of the doubt, despite having had twenty minutes to speak with the injured student to check his mom's name and/or number, the coincidences in this call had me looking at my phone with a blank stare. You're probably thinking oh, it's weird that it was about an ankle injury! Sher's been talking about her ankle/leg injury non stop for, like, twenty months now, with no end in sight. Yeah, that's coincidental, true, but how's this for you? Lincoln High School (and I don't mean any Lincoln High School, I mean THE SAME LHS, located on Ocean Parkway) is where my father went to high school. It's also where my maternal grandfather went to high school. I think I know where only one other family member went to high school. In fact, my brother graduated from high school two years ago, and I couldn't tell you the name of it.

So hey Brooklyn! Were you my future calling or my past? Why am I sharing the transcripts of what I hope are the strangest mistaken calls I'll ever be party to? The improbability (and incompetence) that landed them in my voice mail were remarkable, but of the number of coincidences piled into them just makes me think I must actually know someone at Lincoln High, and they were just pranking me after having an awfully slow start to their week.

What do you think really happened? Is there a narrative I didn't imagine? I've had wrong number and prank texts before, and even had the occasional recorded phone call played in the boy's locker room, but never something of this ilk. And yes, one day I'll report on that locker room story too. But for now I've got to run. If I go back far enough into the future, I may be able to prevent an ankle injury.

This wasn't an Are You Afraid of the Dark script from the 90s. It's true. And perhaps the real value message is: What's your institution's emergency protocol?

Best Future Father? Elijah Wood

Hands down, Elijah wood is going to be one of the best dads out there. I know this because of a favorite childhood memory I don't share often enough.

It’s about a gameboy. A gameboy, and Elijah Wood. Who, many women my age hope, is a boy with game.

Elijah at a more recent Disney release - Tron: Uprising

Ok, so now he is a man. A very attractive, successful, talented man. One we’ve been following since childhood. So, travel with me back to a time when we was indeed a boy, and he let me use his gameboy. It was late summer/early fall 1989. The gameboy had just been released on the market and though I would eventually get mine in the form of a chanukah gift that winter, I’d only seen commercials for this $99 pocket computer. But in those first few months between knowing about a gameboy and being able to play my own, it was a cultural status symbol and we were all obsessed with it.

I hadn’t yet played one as school was called into session that fall. In fact, I wasn’t in school, I was on set filming a “Disney educational film.” I don’t talk about that set very often. Realistically, there isn’t a lot that’s exciting about actually teaching people not to run with scissors when you don’t work in a classroom. But the set was filled with lots of cool kids, including a new friend playing a real-life pinocchio. His name was Elijah and our mothers sat together, bonding over their shared experiences. Being a stage-mom has a lot to bond over.

While they were swapping stories about their commutes to LA (Elijah’s was farther than my drives from Orange County. He’d started his career while still in Iowa), they connected, and I overheard that Elijah’s siblings had biblical names, like his.

The thing that stood out most to me, though, was when all the kids had down time in the trailer. There was a line of people who’d called dibs to play Mario Brothers on Elijah’s gameboy (do you remember a time when those graphics were impressive?). When it came to my turn, my very first turn playing on a gameboy ever, the other boys all said “why bother letting her play? She’s just going to lose anyway.”

Elijah defended the decision to let me have my turn. He may have literally, word for word, been repeating whatever his parent’s policies were on sharing toys, but there he went. It went something like: “Nope, it’s her turn, she waited in line and gets a turn too.”  I really appreciated the opportunity, in that moment, to play a video game like the line of boys before and after me. I’m far from a “gamer” but it let me know what having a brother would be like (4 years prior to becoming a sister) and, more importantly, what being a gentleman looks like.

So, to whoever gets to (eventually) have Elijah parent their kids, you’re lucky. This guy knows what it means to treat women well, to share, and to create space for people to fail. Because obviously, I killed off Mario in record time that day.

PS don’t run with scissors. And no, I don’t have a copy of the film. It’s in the "vault" somewhere and my friend who works at Disney hasn’t been able to locate it. Maybe Elijah ended up with a copy for his reel.

Cover to Cover

I wrote this piece for a spoken word presentation called a "sermon slam" that was held over shavuot, the holiday that celebrates the Jews receiving the ten commandments at Sinai. The topic had to relate to "Torah" in some way.  

I don't know if you remember the first book of Torah that you read in your native tongue. If you remember that first chunk of Tanach you sat and read cover to cover, start to end. Instructed only to understand the grace of the language or story before you.My first cover to cover story was Job.Job.An English assignment given my senior year in my public high school. By the way, the first I’d read in Hebrew (the language I did not yet comprehend, with moments of translation, only glanced) was Eicha. Good luck to me and my theology.The Job assignment was on adaptation and was followed by a reading of the play JB by Archibald Macliesh (I recommend it.) But before that, we dove deep into the Torah. When a day-school educated classmate attempted to read aloud the Hebrew of God's poem, the voice from within the whirlwind, I learned the complicated poetry of Torah and I also learned that Job of Ur was not a Jew.So I went through the rest of my life just knowing this.
Other parts of books of Torah I'd been taught as a child had been disproven, or rather reclassified as Midrash. But this text I knew intimately.

From Eicha to Job, the ancient Jewish literature I'd been exposed to outside of Shabbat morning services was gritty and complicated, like my dear Maya Angelou the poet, the author who'd inspired me for years. She was able to tell deeply personal stories. Dirty secrets and all.

God seemed to have spared no secrets from us, the Israelites in ancient times, which were carried to each of us. And so I was ready to engage with a God who kept no secrets from me. In fact, before I got intimate with Job I was intimate with Kabbalah. (I know, right?)

I don't know if you remember the first sermon you slammed, the first Jewish text you taught. But mine were the kabbalistic teachings of Isaac Luria who gives to us that when our endless God, (known as) Ein Sof created the world a shattering had to occur to make space for us and the world as we know it, and divine sparks spread across the land. Ein sof left these sparks, markers, for us to gather, to act in concert with God by committing an act of repair, of Tikkun Olam.

What is your Tikkun olam? Is it the Torah you teach or the Torah you practice? Is it the way you spread light in the world, or amongst your closest friends? No matter the reach, your Torah, you, have value and worth beyond measure. So share yourself. Bring the spark. Or perhaps, you can let the spark be brought to you.

Just four years after I'd first uncovered Job I sat where God often isn't. Summer school. In a theology course. There, we reapproached Job with a professor who said, "I learn from my students, and I teach what they say when I lecture across the country, but I've never been given reason to quote my undergraduates" I gave him a reason. He asked why Job has been included in our canon. My answer felt trite to me.

When he teaches Job, he teaches me. And it seems, whenever I learn, Job finds me. Just last week, I picked up the newest book written by my most revered teacher, Adin Steinsaltz. It's called "My Rebbe" about the lubuvitcher rebbe. Until just a few years ago the very thought of the rebbe made me shiver. When I was living across the country and he was Ill, I attended Lubavitch yeshiva. We were made to fast for him twice. I was in 5th grade. You can imagine that went over none too well.

But back to, My Rebbe. Not even a full page in, Steinsalz writes "The concept of holiness is not confined to traditional Jewish thought; nor are holy people only Jews. An entire book of the Bible tells the story of one such holy man who was not a Jew: Job.  His conversation, as presented in Scripture, speaks of the spiritual realm, about a connection beyond the everyday world."

And in the next chapter, he focuses on the idea of Tikkun Olam referencing first its mention in the Aleinu prayer. He explains: “The work is ours to do. None of us is exempt from this universal mission. The completion of the world, its elevation into holiness and the elimination of evil: these tasks belong to all of us. In this way, we achieve God’s purpose in creating humanity.” He goes on to say Chasidic thought here rests on an ancient mystical tradition: the world is imperfect because God is hidden. It is true that – whether revealed or hidden – the Almighty is everywhere. A godly spark resides within everything in creation.”

Somehow my Torah is Steinsaltz’s Torah, is his Rebbe’s Torah, is my Torah. Handed. Down. Unknowingly. Perhaps. We are all in line for this Torah.

But I ask you now: What is your Torah? What text circles its way back in to your life over and over and over again? What is holy to you? What is the Torah that can be taught in your name? Mine is simple. If faith in our Lord can be held by the downtrodden non-Jew, shouldn't it also be held by you? It should certainly be held by me.  A keepsake. If the Torah can be used as a tool to understand God, if it can be used as a tool to understand humanity, if it can be understood as a tool to understand holiness. I want to be immersed in Torah for the rest of my life.

That's all I'm asking as you sit or stand at Sinai. Each time you approach Torah or Torah approaches you. Make space. Make space in your heart make space in your life make space in your dreams. If you create room for Torah, however you define it, your path will be more clear, your heart more complete, your teachings spread amongst all who are here to listen.

A Tribute to Love

Sissy's view from the heavens

Dvar Torah for Parshat Yitro - Haftarah Isaiah 2014

Sissy and David had a fabulous wedding weekend. I quoted some less traditional commentators: Nora Ephron and Maya Angelou. So it feels pertinent to share this today. Added bonus, the couple is currently celebrating in Israel, where Sissy lived ten years.

A Tisch talk:

As one of my favorite Torah scholars, Billy Crystal, says in When Harry Met  Sally:  “When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

I teach that in the name of Nora Ephron, a great influence and inspiration to our dear Sissy.

I've been using this teaching on every occasion where people say "what a fast engagement!" or remark at the pace of your perfectly timed relationship. Because you want to continue your life's journey together as soon as possible - and that's more than admirable. My parents did the same thing (in even less time!) some forty plus years ago.

So let me share with you what the Torah portion, Yitro, says to help inform your marriage for years to come: 

First and foremost, respect your in-laws. The harder part is what Moshe embodies when he carries out this idea with his father-in-law - Listening, absorbing and adopting the advice of his in-laws.
BUt after we think about all that richness, the way that  leader gains new skills is what I find most fascinating for the both of you. You are both leaders in your communities. In those capacities, I hope you approach each other knowing that you have the hearts of Moshe - who listens and learns to prioritize. Realizing what is essential and important, giving the little things no credence. May you be blessed in marriage enough to, like Moshe, delegate or dismiss small matters for the sake of the big picture. May you always receive good counsel and be attuned listeners and responders as Moshe teaches us to be.

Another highlight of the parsha is as God makes the covenant at Sinai  and promises to make the Israelites a "treasured possession among all the peoples" - V'hayitem segula micol haamim ki li col. God grants this role conditionally, but my wish is that your love will continue unconditionally. God goes on to grant Israel the status of a "holy nation" I kingdom of priests, The Lord says - mimlechet cohanim v'goy kadosh.

Sissy - you have found for yourself a priest, a Cohen, who has the privilege of knowing the most unique blessing - Birkat Cohanim. It goes: "In the spirit of the holiness of Aaron, we are commanded to bless the people Israel with love." The blessing (after the chatima) goes: b’kedushato shel aharaon, vitzivanu lvarech et amo Yisrael b’ahava.

It's the only blessing we give that has the word Love in it. And it is David's job to dispense loving wishes to all of Israel. I know you have seen him generously dispense his love to Benjy and Sammy, to his community, countless friends and to you - and yours. May your love for each other continue to grow. I'm glad to know David as the type of person, much like you (!), who is capable of opening his heart to envelop an entire room.

Because I've gotten to know Sissy so well over our years of writing dates, one of which was so welcomely joined by a reading of David's proposal poem to you, I'd like to close with the words of a favorite poet of mine - Maya Angelou - who recently said (um, posted on Facebook), "Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope." To that I say - May your love for one another never recognize barriers. May it always arrive full of hope. In its jumping, leaping, determined state, always grow, leaving you the wiser and more content for having done so.

And always know that from the books of the Torah to the people in this room, and amongst all of the communities you have found yourselves attached to - we are here to support your leaps, so keep us with you, as you stand on the precipice of what will be a majestic future. You are at your personal Sinai - the moment when marriage will be revealed newly, uniquely to the both of you. (*and if you get a little discombobulated this weekend, know that the Israelites at Sinai were ten times that!)

_______
Sissy’s recent fortune at a Chinese restaurant read: “Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless” May you always approach each other with kindness, and may this love of your be endless.

"How am I gonna be an optimist about this?"

That title is from the song Pompeii. I don't usually use song lyrics to title my pieces, but it felt terribly appropriate. Thanks Pandora.

 

On my slow road to recovery, the past eighteen months have been, more than anything else, all about me.

Because they had to be. I'm  not used to that.

Sneakers. But a good day!

What hurts my heart is all the lasting damage from a silly broken leg. I try and stay positive: The second surgery helped! I don’t need a third! I’m taking a break from these crazy nerve blocks. I’m walking further, more freely!

Truth be told, I still feel wrecked. Despite the intense physical therapy. Despite the acupuncture. Despite the fact I only describe the sensations in my leg as pain when I’m working with doctors and health care practitioners. I just want these sensations to be that. I don’t want to categorize the discomfort as pain. It’s relatively easy to compartmentalize because I don’t really have a vocabulary for these sensations.

When a neighbor, a friend, a colleague says, “Oh! You’re walking. How are you feeling.” And I say “Better” I realize I have to clarify. My better is somewhere near 75% … It’s better but not best. And that’s frustrating. Some days are on the better side, and others are far worse.

And more than anything else, it makes me mad. That frustration, coupled with the side effects from the medication that barely works is often enraging. I’ve gained forty pounds. Hardly any of my clothing fits. I have, at most, ¼ of the energy and enthusiasm I’m known for.

I’ve wondered aloud to friends who might know, “Is this what depression feels like?” It’s possible my need to slow it down is the outcome of the pain. It’s possible this is a cyclical (unidentifiable) cause and effect. The medication has a mood related side effect. But I think it really is mostly physical. I needed a full day to recover from vacation while I was still on vacation earlier this month. I’d walked a lot at Jazz fest. In sneakers, of course.

Fading scar...

While in the happiest place I could be, and feeling thoroughly happy, I was still exhausted, so that was a good way of checking in for me. My body is still not what I want it to be. I’m healing in measurements that aren’t significant enough for me to record daily. If I were just getting one thing right consistently, I might feel stronger. I can't focus on writing, I have to practice yoga in a modified way, my attention span is far shorter, standing to enjoy anything is, simply put, immediately exhausting (particularly if I'm not medicated).

So I’ve found myself turning further inward, not because I don’t appreciate my relationships, but because I don’t have the energy to push them along. That ball has to stay out of my court. And I’m ever so grateful that so many of my relationships have weathered this very long storm. I hope you all can hold out a little longer. My body and I, though still disparate, greatly appreciate it. I hope to be able to celebrate with a trip where I can horseback ride, and eventually, perhaps, skate the streets of NYC again.