Thanksgiving - Spiritual???

Ya know, it has been a good 20 days since Thanksgiving and I am still grappling with this topic. It's been about 6 weeks since losing my father-in-law. Most days are better for my husband & me, but it's still a battle to feel deeply spiritual in the midst of death & Alzheimer's. Family gatherings force us to deal with the conflicting emotions of joy & loss, gratitude & illness. Maybe if I was a deeper person, I could wrangle up something meaningful & spiritual about it. Perhaps some allegory about how celebrations tend to be so double-edged emotionally. The joy of gathering with loved ones. The recognition that it won't last forver. All I can say for sure is that the experience of loss & illness make one more cognizant about the fleeting good fortune of health and youth.

Is Thanksgiving Especially Spiritual?

Thanksgiving is a unique day in that we have a huge meal with lovely desserts, have American football on TV with some of us actually playing the actual game, and see family we may only see 1-2 times per year. In our family we do go around the table and ask what each of us are thankful for; that is the spiritual moment of the day.

However, I will state that being Jewish allows us to not just think of Thanksgiving as a truly spiritual day. Each week on Shabbat we are thankful for the bread and the wine. We also say the Shehecheyanu at each and every holiday and special event (e.g., a bar mitzvah, wedding, etc.) that to me is especially a spiritual moment each time it happens, for it allows us to recognize the milestones of life that can help us connect to our spirituality.

Therefore, while Thanksgiving is a special moment in the fall, it is just one of many moments through out the year that allows me to feel spiritual.

7 Reasons Why Thanksgiving is Deeply Spiritual

There is something very spiritual about Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays because of GRATITUDE. Gratitude is especially spiritual. When we slow down and take the time to articulate the blessings in our lives, we necessarily venture into a higher plane of existence.  We transcend our yetzer harah (our inclination toward lustful neediness) to get in touch with our yetzer hatov (our inclination toward the good).  We discover the holy amongst the regular. 

Gratitude is profoundly spiritual. 

As part of a bi-coastal family, I enjoyed the opportunity to twice articulate my gratitude: first, over the phone, to my East Coast family gathered at my brother's home, and again, at our own California dinner table.

7 Reasons Why I Think Thanksgiving is deeply spiritual:

1. I spend the week before and after, trying to touch base with members of our congregation who have lost loved ones since last Thanksgiving.  A caring community needs to remember those who have an empty seat at their holiday tables.  (Passover and Rosh Hashana are also great times to reach out.)
2. Thanksgiving food is universally delicious.  When the senses (taste buds, smell, sight) are heightened, we recognize the beauty and holiness more).
3. I usually get in a deeply restful nap between the meal and dessert. A rested person is more apt to recognize the spiritual.
4. We gather family together for a non-rushed, gratitude-filled evening. Spirituality blossoms when we are relaxed.
5. We try to open an especially good bottle of wine. (See #2.)  The smell of a great wine is as delicious as its taste.
6. This rabbi has no responsibilities beyond helping prepare the meal.
7. The family gathers for dinner at a normal time because this rabbi does not have to run out to lead services. (See #4)

In what ways do you find Thanksgiving spiritual (e.g., meaningful, inspired, transcendent)?

Spirituality Is My Crutch

At least that's what some people want to believe. Grieving is a funny thing, we all do it but in different ways and on different time lines. After recently experiencing the greatest loss of my life, 9 months ago, I have found myself on an incredible journey through grief & sadness, love & spiritual awakening. Spirituality hit me as hard as the loss itself. This spiritual journey has guided through the darkness, lifted my heart, my spirit, and my soul. I have found "MY" God, the one withIN ME, not someone else, not one that someone has told me I should believe in. Recently I have become confused by the reaction of some people around me, those whom say they care, those whom say they love me. It seems they have a perception that this spiritual thing is bad, is harmful, is false. Its not OK that I am happy, that I have found peace and acceptance, this spirituality must be tricking me, I being fooled by something that I couldn't possible believe, or found on my own. If they could only take the time to read some of my earlier posts, maybe they could understand that spirituality is not new to me, but it had been locked inside, trying in vain to get out. For me, Erica (my wife) held the key, when she died, as she left our physical presence, she unlocked the door, opened my heart to the extent it never had been before. As she left me she empowered me to share with the rest of the world what only she knew and saw before. Some people understand and embrace the new ME, some are frightened. It feels to me as if they think my spirituality is a crutch, like alcohol or drugs, as if I were using it as an escape to mask reality as opposed to a tool to gain strength, perspective and understanding. This negative energy is a powerful thing, something that I have fought since the day Erica died, for some the negativity is their crutch, their way of coping and that is ok, it is their path. Today I am reaching deep into my spiritual toolbox, trying to pull away from this vortex of negativity, trying to get back to the peaceful, beautiful place, where Erica's spirit dwells, where her presence embraces me allowing me to live, love and be present for my children, my family and friends.

Spirituality in life and death

This one is particularly tough for me. Though I have lost some close friends, and some family members, I never really felt anything spiritual upon their death. Yes, I have seen what I thought was the soul departing but with no real spiritual sense, and believe me I was looking. Perhaps it was due to the fact I was in my teens and all who died had absolutely no G-d in their lives. All were in great pain both physically and emotionally. All had been wounded by generations on sadness and depression. In fact when it comes to this I have always thought that it is me, who is to break that chain. What I do know is, I did see the life leave their bodies and I do believe that it was with the departure of their souls that they were finally able to live.

I absolutely believe in “G-d” (I used to really have a tough time with this word and I know it alienates many people, due to its over use and that men call on it to incite murder) or some “thing”. I cannot look at us, the perfection of the human machine, the brilliance of nature and the infinite space of the universe and think that a mathematical equation is going to answer my questions. I know with a deep sense that G-d exists, though I have no idea what the next step is. I would be lying to say that this doesn’t scare me sometimes because it does. What I choose to believe and what makes sense to me is a discussion for another time. What I can say in a nutshell is that I trust that this is just one step out of many, this earth, this universe, etc and there is so much more to experience on many different “Planes”, this just being one step in a greater life. This also gives me the confidence to “live” my life to the fullest without fear but with an absolute love.

So, the question is, Spirituality, in particular Jewish spirituality because of, or in the face of death? Judaism fills all the voids in between what I do not clearly feel or see. Judaism allows and Judaism teaches and Judaism makes sense of the universe for me. Though I have not (and I do not look forward to it) experienced death of a loved one face to face in many years, I know unequivocally however, I will be turning to my Jewish faith for the answers in that time.

Not All Deaths Are Created Equal

I was at my grandmother's bedside when she died. I was a college senior, and my grandmother was 83. She had lived a long, rich, full life. The weeks leading up to her death were difficult and scary for me, but somehow when she did finally die at the winter solstice, I experienced something more akin to beauty. After teaching me so much about life, my granmma also taught me how to die. I don't know if I will be as lucky as she was to gracefully let go at the end of a blessed and fulfilling run, but that is my hope. My first child was born on December 19th - the anniversary of my grandmother's death. I have always found this a poignant reminder of the beauty that can be found in "circle of life". Yes, I would describe my grandmother's death as a powerful spiritual experience in my own life.

I also lived through the death of my father-in-law at the end of a miserable pair of years. His death was not beautiful, nor were the last 2 years of his life leading up to it. When he passed away, we experienced sadness, but mostly relief that his suffering was at an end. That did not feel particularly spiritual to me.

We have known a few children who have died in the past couple of years, and I find nothing whatsoever spiritual about their untimely deaths. I do not see any good coming from the brutal destruction of their parents' hopes, dreams, and belief in the future.

Not sure what all this means as an answer to the question posed, other than that I have not found the experience of death to necessarily be a path towards spirituality. Sometimes it can be beautifully meaningful fulfillment of a life well lived. Sometimes it can be more of a goal to be reached as an end to suffering. And sometimes it can be a terribly destructive force.

~ Debby

The Presence of Life's Power

There is no doubt something wonderous is at work that powers each and everyone of us, as well as what sustains life in all life forms on Earth. I witnessed the moment my step dad died - was in the room with him. Never felt anything like it; something actually left the room!

It was this moment that compels me to believe there is something beyond us and Earth. Hard to believe we all just stop existing if you believe what certain athiests think. If G-d exists then the existance has to be about life's power and what is behind this energy that sustains each of us. I cannot believe that this energy just ceases to exists. I struggle to call this energy G-d at times, but there is no doubt something amazing is at work.

I am still blown away how humans have the complex mind to both live and also think about meaning of life. Sometimes I wish I was a lower mammal and just cared about my next meal for the thoughts that can flood my mind about the reasons for existing can be so powerful and overwhelming.

However, I realize how powerful it is to contemplete the meaning of life and how this meaning brings the enjoyment of those the lives around me. No doubt I feel very close to family, but also feel strong bonds to my close friends, my fellow congregants as well as even colleagues at work. These feelings are truly the strong emotions of loving, caring and fondness for fellow humans that gives me pause to feel truly spiritual or even holy. I am also hopeful it is these feelings that will lead us to an age of peace and tolerance.

When the time comes for someone close to me to leave this life on Earth, it is comforting to think they went someplace else; hopefully some place good. I can echo the thought that when we tell stories about them, we keep them alive on some level. There is also the power that they affected us enough for us to tell those stories and give us the feeling of missing them.

I can close that it is this feeling of missing those that have died that helps us acknowledge the presence of life's power (or lack thereof). It is this power that drive us to continue with those memories. I tend to feel sad about a loss of life, but also extraordinarily happy about knowing them while they were alive and seeing their influence on those around them. It is a conflicting feeling, but it is what leads us to spirtuality and a belief in G-d in the first place.

Souls

One of the things I think about when the term spirituality is used is the soul. The question of what happens to our souls when we die has always intrigued me; and at the same time, being in the presence of a loved one during his or her last days or directly after their death can be an experience that is profoundly soul effecting.

When my grandmother passed away over a year ago in July, I knew her beautiful, vibrant soul had to exist somewhere in some form, even though her body was lifeless. She had touched and loved others so deeply, and planted seeds of light, hope, and wisdom in those who loved her.

When families and friends united to share stories, keeping her memory alive, there were spiritual moments for many of us, as we felt both the power of remembering and the pain of her loss deep in our cores - in our souls.

Grieving Sucks

Thursday morning we suddenly lost our beloved father & grandfather, Danny Gould. If one believed in karma or that sort of thing, Danny would have gone instantly at his desk, playing piano and regaling his friends. He worked, lived and loved perfectly. All who knew him thought him perfect. Yet, despite always doing the right thing, the past year has been horrible for him. After 38 years with Warner Brothers, he lost his job last summer (at age 88, but still!). He's been watching his beloved wife of 59 years turn into someone almost unrecognizable due to Alzheimer's Disease. He's suffered from two strokes (both of which he made just about complete recoveries from). And last week, he suffered a catastrophic brainstem stroke which rendered him unable to swallow.

A nasogastric tube was inserted up his nose and a suction device placed at his bedside so he could try to manage his secretions. It was awful to see this man who loved eating and talking (we called him "The Speecher") unable to eat and barely able to talk. He was clearly uncomfortable, yet, we knew he was fighting hard to make a recovery. The doctors, social workers and his case manager were grim. His outlook for recovery was grim. His future, if he should survive, looked sure to include gastric tubes, a tracheotomy and chronic battles with pneumonia. How could such a loved, talented and rightous man be dealt such horrible cards? Why would he be destined to be today's Biblical version of Job?

While I certainly feel a sense of communtiy and support from my friends and synagogue family, I'm struggling to find spirituality in this whole thing. I wish I could believe that it was part of g-d's plan to end his struggle without additional suffering, but the logical part of me thinks that his death was just a logical consequence of food being aspirated into his lungs when he tried to eat for the last time. I know the whole thing about man not being able to know or comprehend G-d's purpose or plan, but still. Hard to feel spiritual when grieving sucks so much.

Finding Spirituality when dealing with death

This is a topic I find myself thinking about very often as I have a 96 year old grandma and Brad has a 92 year old grandma. While they are both in good health, the reality is that they have lived much longer than their peers. Each holiday or significant event, I am always thinking, "will this be the last time they are with us?" I am not trying to be morbid, just a realist.

Thinking back to other grandparent deaths, I hope that they both go quickly, preferably in their sleep without being hospitalized, hospice, 3 am phone calls etc. But, the flip side to this desire is that each time I talk to them or see them, it could be the last time.

I can remember spending time alone, listening to music and thinking (and crying) about the family member who recently passed away. That time is when I felt the most connection to them and to the world around me. Ironically, I do not like being in Temple because while I find the words and tradition to be comforting, I don't like being around so many people. And I want to cry.

I agree with what the Rabbi said about this being such a vulnerable time and it's during vulnerable times that people turn to God and religion. That might be why the B'nai Mitzvah students feel like they do.

Something tells me that I will be experiencing this in the not so distant future, so I will probably be better equipped to answer this question then.

Spirituality in the Face - or Because of - Death

This month we begin to consider spirituality at times of transition, particularly at times of death and dying.  Our question is:

Where do you find spirituality or the presence of the Holy One/Higher Power/God when loved ones are facing death and/or dying?

When I sit with our pre-B'nai Mitzvah students to prepare their divrei Torah (speeches), I always ask them "What do you believe about God and when have you ever felt close to God?"  A huge percentage of the young people talk about sensing God's presence when a loved one - usually a grandparent - has died.  Though the answers differ, they find a sense of connection with something bigger, something beyond, this realm.  Some feel like God is getting them and their families through the difficult period.  Others feel like this is not a regular time; it is more, deeper, poignant. 

Times when a loved one dies are among the most vulnerable moments in our lives.  Some of us are mad at the world/spirituality/God that this is happening.  Others see them as moments of intense spirituality. 

For me, these times - facing and living through the death of a loved one - are intense and incredibly spiritual.  We stand - literally - at the intersection between life and death... and whatever is after.  I am more aware of the blessings in my life.  I am more appreciative also. 

There is an incredible peace that comes - amidst the sadness - when someone dies. Peace that pain (or one kind of pain) is at an end.  Peace that what's next is out of our hands.  Hope that there is an Olam Haba, an existence that comes after this world.  And a  sense of assuredness - for me - that our souls become bound up with the Eternal Soul of the universe. 

Those are my thoughts. What are yours?

Staring at the ceiling

When I was a kid, I never liked the High Holy Day services. I was horrifically bored on one hand and terribly intimidated on the other. I can't even remember the name of the synagogue that I attended as a young child, but I do remember that the ceiling was one of those ceilings made up of lots of 12 by 12 tiles with tiny black holes scattered in random patterns on them. It must have been an older synagogue (or just possibly not constructed very well - where is Stephen Bloom when you need him?) because I distinctly remember water stains on some of the tiles and wondered if the stains were caused by G-d's tears. The services of my youth (I had to be less than 7 years old at the time) led what was probably pretty close to a "conservadox" service. Watching the cantor hit himself and plead for forgiveness was unsettling - I mean, what could the cantor possibly be asking forgiveness for? This just made me even more scared as I knew that I wasn't very nice to my brother. And I did sneak snacks before dinner. Sometimes I said I brushed my teeth when I really didn't because I didn't like how the orange juice would make the toothpaste taste after breakfast. Yep. I was a bad kid.

I was so convinced that G-d was literally writing down names in his book of life that I actually sat incredibly, unbelievably still in my seat - I just had to make a favorable impression on the big guy (or gal). I distinctly recall looking up at those little black holes and trying to glimpse G-d. I mean, the rabbi kept telling us how he was watching us and was everywhere. What if he didn't see me? What would happen if he spelled my name wrong? So there I would sit trying to make eye contact with G-d through the little black spaces in the ceiling tiles. After all, if I could insure that G-d actually SAW me, well, he would just have to write my name in his book!

Since then, events in my life have led me to be skeptical of an all powerful, Omnipresent Being running the show here on earth. Darfur and the holocaust also don't help the cause any. However, the older I get, the more I treasure the routines and traditions of my heritage. There is something so deeply moving, dare I say spiritual, about a gathering of people singing together. There is a spark of electricity when the community comes together in worship. Call it electricity, piety, spirituality, heck, call it whatever you want. I just know that since I started attending Congregation Or Ami, I actually like High Holy Day services. I guess there is a G-d after all!

Impact

Thursday 9/9/10

O.K. So, the High Holy Days and other significant spiritual notions were rattling around in my head. So much so, that usually I am a deep and heavy sleeper but I was awaken at 4:41 am this morning after an intense dream that involved Steven Spielberg and my spirituality. The dream isn't really important and just to sum it up Mr. Spielberg and I were riding in a car having and intense Torah discussion. The topic was the Akedah (the binding of Isaac) and the conversation was pandemonium, flowing, magical, spiritual, madness! When Mr. Spielberg and I realized what we were doing, we had a big laugh! We acknowledged each other’s enthusiasm and deep mutual love of our Jewish identities. I thanked him for pressing mine to me at a very young age through his philanthropic endeavors, films and his unashamed self-pride in being a Jew. I reminded Mr. Spielberg of his importance to Jews, “After all” I said, ''how many filmmakers can say they have affected people in the way you affected so many?'' Of course he took it in stride, though, he did shoot me a fake smile and I felt a bit like a kiss-ass. There was a long, awkward silence then, eyes wide open! It was 4:41 am and I was now awake and awake for good.

First I have to say that I didn't weigh in on the last question on our Spiritual Blog, the "Summertime Question" due to the fact my work schedule has never been more intense, tons of traveling, night work and a lot of 18 hour days. This turns out as all things do, if you allow them to unfold and stay in the moment, to be just fine. As things go my ''Summertime Question'' and response roll right into the High Holy Days question.

Utmost is that this has been one of the most spiritually powerful times in my life. Starting in the summer, on June 5th with the Bat Mitzvah of my daughter Sofia. The single most powerful experience (other than the birth of my children) in my life. When asked to describe, I say it was like my wedding on steroids. As intense, as spiritual, as warm, the overpowering love in the room, everything my wedding was but...it was for someone we love more than ourselves.

This past summer marked my return to meditation after a very long hiatus and with it, a clear intention. Meditation had been elusive the last few years to say least and intention, forget about it!

I also spent a good amount of time in Hawaii (for work). I am a former professional surfer who had devoted an enormous amount of time both in and out of the water to Hawaii, though I hadn't returned in many years. Hawaii is the Jerusalem of surfing, the spiritual center of the surfing universe and it is certainly not wasted on me. I surfed as much as I worked. With little sleep (I was working nights, albeit in the most beautiful locations you could ever imagine) but I was overflowing with monumental amounts of raw energy due to the environment surrounding me. Just the smell alone, not to mention the clarity of the water and sky… My soul had filled and was beginning to overflow.

Then there was my brother-in-law's twin daughters baby naming. My wife Janna and I were asked to write a brucha for the naming. Let me first say that writing a brucha is my absolute favorite task. To boil down the essence of love and devotion (all blessings can be distilled to these notions) into 80 words or less, (including a piece of the weeks Torah portion) is an art that I am fully adept at. So, I write Janna reads. She is too busy to contribute as a writer so, l write no problem. Simple. A great discovery was made! I write, Janna reads, all cry! The combination of my concise passion and Janna's supreme tenderness, dignity and repose while reading… Knocked it out of the spiritual park if you will. The great thing about such events is they are a win, win situation. After all who was to be blessed? Well, of course the babies and how wonderful the love for them but it always works in reverse as well. The babies get the group consciousness of love, in turn the babies open up our hearts and all feel the words (if they are paying attention, hence 80 words or less). It was an outstanding moment to say the least. My week was already made at this point, I needed nothing else to carry me spiritually until Shabbat. Though, shortly after the ceremony another wonderful event occurred. I was approached by the Rabbi, an exceptional women with whom I had taken a few classes a couple of years past. She hadn't remembered me from class (which I felt was a positive) but she wanted to know my deal. The Rabbi appreciated my words and wanted to know more about the man who wrote them. I told her of my passion for Judaism, writing and how all things in my life, I felt, were leading me down a path narrowing towards a new career. ''And with whom was I affiliated? Ah…Rabbi Paul Kipnes. Good! Good.'' After further probing and a short but intensely honest discussion I told the Rabbi of my not so secret dream of the Rabbinate and she responds with, ''You must take the next Lay Leaders Retreat at the Institute for Jewish Spirituality''. The Rabbi expresses her belief that perhaps I might better serve the Jewish community in other ways, that through meditation, Torah study and silence at the retreat I might find the proper path and with her words I am now flying! We also agree to keep in close touch throughout the process. I think, what an incredible afternoon, so many spectacular moments packed into 3 hours.

All of these events are at the forefront of my thoughts as I slept, like I said literally all this rattling around my brain. I awake at 4:41 am and I start to blog at 4:50 am (had to have coffee!). I write until the kids have to be taken to school. Close the computer, knowing I will not be able to return for a week. It will have to be after the High Holy Days I am working many long hours and this was my window until post Neilah.

Saturday 9/18/10

So, tonight I return and clean up what was previously written and add the High Holy Days portion. For those who attended the services you know. For those who attended the study sessions in-between? You are even more fortunate. Once again our hearts were filled with love, exultation and rapture. The rabbis, the cantor, the choir, the children, the soloists, the orchestra, the congregation, the venue, on and on I could go. So many times tears streamed down my face, the beauty of the music, the truth of the benediction, the history in our prayers, the embrace of my children, wife, mother-in-law and friends as we moved to and fro. This was perfection in moments. I pine for the High Holy days. I exist for this time, the time to shed life's transgressions and periphery, to decompress, gather up the family and go get our souls replenished. To stand in the congregation and belt out the Shema. To see all who I miss, love and have shared so much with at Or Ami. To hear my daughter sing Mi Chamocha. To see my son listen with intent. To watch my wife relax and become whole. To close my eyes and listen, as the grind of everyday life fades, the rabbi's words, the cantor's music, my heart ascends, as I fly through the universe as light.

''The High Holy Day and the impact on my spirituality?'' Impact defined as; the action of one object coming forcibly into contact with another.

You bet, as spirit and soul.

The High Holidays and the impact on my spirituality

I always find the High Holidays a chance to ponder the prior year and consider the next. The prayer book's text is rather overt in ensuring we think about such things, but the excercise at which ever service I am attending is always fufilling. In addition, my family keeps a journal about goals for the prior year, what we each accomplished both individually and as a family over those 12-13 months, and what we will do over the next 12-13 months. We have been doing this since 1996 when my first child was born.

In reviewing the prior year I get to think about what I did well and what I can improve. It can be heavy to have true introspection about times I could have behaved better and/or changed how I approached a situation. However, I do attempt to take the hard look and then reconnect with those that I may need to patch things up with.

I also find the saying "On Rosh Hashanah it is written and on Yom Kippur it is sealed" allows me to ponder what might be "written" about me and I have the 10 days to commit to what will be sealed. I consider the phrase all a metaphor but it is powerful to think that someone is alway watching (whether its kids, a spouse, a business colleague, etc.) and they can write me into their book of life. I always strive for an effort that will result in them "writing" about me in a good way and that I had a positive influence on their life. It is within these moment that G-d exists and is "writing" me in that I feel most spiritual (also know as the warm-fuzzies).

Last Stab at the Summer Question

I wanted to post an response to the summer question after realizing you snuck one in before your summer journey. I spent the summer reading many different spiritual books and seeking the big question about why we are here. I mixed in some books on evolution to seek to understand our biological/pyschological make-up about why we believe in G-d. I love that we are seekers, for it implies the journey we are on during our lives and potentially aftewards.

Looking forward to continuing to seek...

New Year, New Question

We have entered the New Year 5771. In what ways have the Jewish High Holy Days (Rosh Hashana and/or Yom Kippur) been spiritual for you?

Endless Summer ??

As our summer comes to a close, although recent temps don't seem to dictate that fact, I find myself reflecting on the past few months from a spiritual point of view. As my kids and I traveled the world, together and separately, I worked hard at staying present and in the moment, enjoying the abundance that the universe was constantly providing for me. I used what ever down time I had to read anything I could get my hands on regarding spirituality. My summer reading list consisted of; The Four Agreements, Don Miguel Ruiz - The Fifth Agreement, Don Miguel & Don Jose Ruiz - The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion - The Untethered Soul, Michael Singer - A New Earth, Ekhart Tolle, The Tao of Pooh, Benjamin Hoff & Raising Cain, Dan Kindlon & Michael Thompson - listening to Change Your Thoughts, Change Your Life: Living the Wisdom of the Tao, Dr. Wayne W. Dyer

On July 31st I traveled to Mammoth Lakes with my children. This was our first trip to Mammoth since my wife Erica died in a snowboarding accident there in February. Needless to say, the weeks leading up to the trip were met with some anxiety on my part. On the Friday before we drove up, something was pulling at me all day, telling me I should attend shabbat services that night at Or Ami. I don't why there was any resistance in me but it took a little convincing from a friend I was with that day and it was decided we would attend that evening. As we celebrated shabbat and listened to Julia Weisz's sermon I was amazed by the Torah portion that I had seemingly stumbled into ( Ekev5770). The story was of Moses leading the Jews to Israel and reminding them of the hardships and pain they had suffered prior to leading them into the promised land. Julia's words about the the need to visit the root and most difficult part of our grief prior to healing were so incredibly poignant. The power of her sermon and the warmth of the Or Ami community gave me the strength to make that journey, which I knew would help us tremendously on our path of healing.

On Saturday afternoon, July 31st, Megan, Tyler, our dogs Boo & Mr. Butters, and I hiked up to the very spot where Erica took her last breath. We sat, we meditated, we cried and we healed. As we sat on the hill side we took in the vast and incredible view up the valley in front of us, out to Mono Lake and up to the crest of Mammoth Mountain to our right. The sun shone softly on our backs, filtered by the trees behind us and directly on to the flowers we had placed in Erica’s honor. It was a beautiful moment and we could feel Erica’s presence immeasurably. We spent the rest of the weekend hiking and celebrating life with friends, basking in the light that surrounded us.

Two weeks ago I traveled to a small town outside of Mexico City next to the Teotihuacan Pyramids site. A friend and I spent four days living with Don Miguel Ruiz and his son Don Jose along with about 20 other spiritual seekers of all ages, races, and from geographical locations around the globe. We learned about and explored the spiritual philosophy of the ancient Toltec culture and the significance that the pyramid site played in their spiritual practices. It was an enlightening journey and I highly recommend checking out their books, The Four Agreements and/or The Fifth Agreement. The Fifth Agreement actually covers the first four.

All I can say is that after a summer of reading, traveling, and reflecting I have made the irrevocable decision that I choose to be happy, I choose not to be a victim, I choose not to judge myself or others, and not to concern myself with the judgments others may have of me. I have chosen love and light over despair and darkness. I have chosen spirituality what ever that may be and wherever that may lead.

The summer maybe coming to an end but the search for spiritual fulfillment never will.

Summertime Judaism

The question about summertime spirituality gave me only a moments pause. We go camping once a summer at least with several families at Morro Bay state park. Each morning we Jewish moms gather for Torah study, inviting whichever children care to come to take a turn reading and discussing. It is one lovely way to start the morning. We also have Shabbat evening together camping, inviting everyone and sharing our tradition and holy day with us. Not only is the Challah and grape juice a bit hit but the feeling that surrounds us is also. Now, how to have every day feel that way!

Recharging my Batteries

This summer I plan on recharging my spiritual batteries by being lazy. Probably not very ambitious or inspiring but it sounds perfectly wonderful to me. I have a HUGE stack of books and magazines that I haven't had time to peruse and I am looking forward to sitting on my backyard swing and reading and chillaxing. I also plan on having many super casual, pajama dinners with friends and family. To top off my spirituality tank, I look forward to attending shabbat services as a congregant (and not as a worker). The President's announcements are just about the last part of the service and I couldn't "relax" until my "speech" was over. All those years of giving announcements prevented me from "being in the moment" of the service as I was too focused on what I would say when I got on the bimah. Now, ahhhhhh, I can sit back, relax, and get reaquainted with the beauty of summer and shabbat.

Summer....Connections....Spirituality

Okay, this is an easy question to ponder. Well, the truth is that there is not much pondering involved, hence my quick response! The summer is all about recharging, reconnecting and reminding. The recharging part is easy to understand and needs no explanation, the reconnecting falls in similar category. I look forward to getting together with friends who we do not see (or not see often) during the regular year.
As the reminding part, maybe it's just where I am, but there's so much going on; things I cannot control (like when did my daughter become a middle school student?!?) and I want to just be in the moment and savor where we are and what we are doing.
The spirituality comes into play because when I am really connected in the moment and taking it all in, I feel a deeper connection. One that comes from the awareness and acceptance of spirituality. For me this happens most often outdoors and in nature. I've been at the beach twice this summer and sitting in my beach chair, looking out towards the horizon, I am reminded of all that is beautiful and tranquil and right with this world.

Margaritas for breakfast

Sit by the beach and try to figure out what plan the Big Guy upstairs has in mind for me in the upcoming year. If that doesn't work, I'm goin' back to margaritas for breakfast.

A New Question for the Month

This Month's Question:

As summer approaches, what will you do (or what can you do) to make this summer spiritually fulfilling?

I'm A Jewish Imposter

I have never held a Torah. The closest I have gotten to a Torah is kissing it through the mad rush at High Holy Days services. I do it, and I make my children do it, but I'm not even sure why.
Does this make me a Jewish imposter?

I have other books which I use for spirituality, other readings, and other prayers that I say, because I can understand them. They all have to do with believing in and trusting God's will for me, but I feel nothing when I hold them and they aren't very special. They are not based in any religion, and you can buy them in any Barnes and Noble.

I often feel like a hypocrite when I stand up every time the arc is opened, sit down when it's closed, and when I recite prayers in Hebrew which I have memorized (and I'm not even sure what they mean and if I'm even saying them correctly, so I whisper).
This usually brings me shame (what else is new?)

Should I continue to go undercover, or should I start looking into the Torah?

Hard to put into words

For me, holding the Torah is holding a sacred vessel that swells with intense, powerful energy.

I can almost hear amazing, swirling sounds, voices, and music emerge as soon as the Torah is opened, considering all that is contained inside.

Torah carries Godly messages written in human form.

I've learned over time that Torah is many things at once. It is a Jewish identity, a guidebook, a contract, and a vision for the future that binds generations and connects Jews across the world.

It instructs us to strive to be holy and to be the best we can for the sake of human kind and for the world.

It's hard to put in words the feeling I get every time the Torah is opened, let alone given the honor of holding it.

Torah...more than a handful

Ok, so there's 613 mitzvot (commandments) in the Torah, so I thought I'd start there as I began the thought process on what Torah means to me. WHOA... I am much farther off base than I thought! While I've pretty much nailed down honoring my folks, I've never had relations with a relative or an animal (ewwww), and I almost never take revenge on someone (unless they really deserve it), pondering the remaining 610 made me nauseous; I am for sure going to hell.

But the written laws of the Torah are not what connect me to Judaism and spirituality. The connection for me is that Jews all over the world are bound by this book. It is the historical stories in the Torah and how they relate to my life, right here, right now. It is the songs that were derived from those stories that make me feel spiritual. Sure, I feel a little spiritual when I am living righteously, but the laws that govern my life are those that have been passed down from my parents and grandparents, my friends, classes I have attended, teachers I admired, and by society itself.

My Take on the Torah Being Spiritual

A powerful moment in my spiritual existence is when I get to hold or see the Torah. That fact that it brings a community together is my major take on its spiritual existence. Whether or not it is the actual word of G-d is moot to me, since its power to me is to see a congregation get excited as it passes around the room and solidifies the common bond we all have in our religion and community. A side note is the time we were allowed to take the Torah home with us to keep it safe during the high holidays a few years ago. I felt our house was truly safe those nights it was here, and how reverent I felt having such a text so close by.

Also, learning Torah is another interesting opportunity to see it be used as a tool for us to guide us on our spiritual journeys. It is boggling how may interpretations one verse can have and that we are allowed to challenge what is actually being said and be allowed multiple interpretations.

To continue my thought about how much I care if the Torah is actually the word of G-d. I don't get wrapped up in proving its divine creation, but I do think about powerful it would be if it truly is a sacred text crafted by a power beyond our imaginations and then handed down from generation to generation. I am also struck by how it provides some basic rules of order for us humans to get along and if all humans could follow its basic tenants, the world will be a much better place! Finally, it is interesting to me that all the modern Western religions trace their roots back to Abraham, Moses and all the other characters in the Torah and these basic rules of order carry through in these other religions as well. Obviously, someone wrote down some good ideas about how to live a good life that continue to resonate today, whether Jewish, Christian, Mormon, etc.

Touching Torah

My grandma Sara taught me by example how to be a "good" person. She also, through her genetic (arthritic) legacy, gave me a crooked finger. I love my crooked finger as it always reminds me of her. In fact, when my daughter, Joanna, was born, one of the first things I noticed was that she inherited a crooked finger too! Seeing, holding and touching torah remind me that I am part of a chain of people who have passed down more to me than just my genes. When I am near a torah, I think of my grandparents, and their parents, and their parents' parents and how each previous generation risked persecution and death in order to pass down the teachings of our people. In this way, the presence of torah makes me feel like a part of a bigger picture. Like I am connected, or standing on the shoulders, of the ones who came before me.

This year, before starting Jewish Education classes at Melton, I actually read through just about the entire Tanach. It was fascinating as I was able to do it without any outside commentary or input. I could take the words as they were written (or at least interpreted by JPS) and make my own conclusion about what message the writer(s) meant to convey. My impression of the torah was harsh! It was filled with pervasive repressive, hateful, divisive, violent and vengeful stories. This has certainly impacted me (in ways I am sure future blogs will address) but the current result is that I do not find much to feel spiritual about when I think of the torah as a "contract" for the Jewish people. Hopefully as my studies continue, I will find the inspiration in its messages. So I guess the bottom line for me (at this moment in time, anyway) is that most of the torah's content doesn't feel very spiritual to me, but it's presence feels like an integral part of me . Kinda like my crooked finger.

Spirituality and Torah

I was still thinking about my own spirituality when Rabbi posed this question about Torah. For me there is a linkage between the two and I'll try to explain.

I grew up very, very Reform, without Shabbat, a Bat Mitzvah, Hebrew, and with only very basic holidays. And no real God. I spent years wondering what this was all about and what was God anyway? In ninth grade, our temple was part of the Haverot Noar program, six weekends of camp throughout the year, and weekly, rather intense, religious school. For me this was a turning point. It cemented my faith that only grew when I went to Israel for 6 weeks in high school. My Jewish identity was now solid. But the question of God was still murky. I even went to church with my friends just to hear them talking about God. What eventually happened is that I began to talk to people in various 12 Step programs about their Higher Power. Did God really care about me? Didn't He have better things to do than listen to my prayers, my problems?

What I've learned over the years is that my God does listen. And I get to talk to Him regularly. Now I have my Jewish faith and identity and beliefs. Not only on holidays but every day. And I feel solid in it, confident that I have a God, a Jewish history and a Jewish future.

One time I feel most spiritual is when we study Torah on Saturdays with Rabbi Julia, and those wonderful interns who came before her. I've so loved those sessions. They feed me with our people-hood, stories, quirks and questions. I want to do more reading of our Books and do the study that I love, even on my own. I want to know more. I also love to hear Rabbi's stories and to know how others apply our Judaism in their lives. I believe that Torah is the key, that it has formed who we are as Jews, where we came from and gives us guidelines for living. Certainly not all of the laws are applicable to my life, but understanding them enriches it.

I love doing Shabbat dinner with my family, or with friends, as well as holidays. I always want to increase my Jewish observance, each year reaching deeper for more understanding, practice and joy. Torah is where that all comes from. I felt incredibly blessed at my son's Bar Mitzvah's holding the Torah, and each time I get to take a blessing from it. I wish I could read it too, one day I will. I hold it as sacred, and feel that without Torah, we wouldn't be Jews. And that would be a catastrophe for us and for the world. I'm always amazed that non-Jews have such a regard for the Bible, and study it, know it through and through, and yet, I don't. I don't think it was emphasized enough in my youth, and that I am poorer for it. Part of what I think we need is the struggle to understand it, and to continue to disagree with it, to study it, to debate about it.

What holds us together as Jews if not Torah? Passover observance? Jewish life-cycle events? Not a belief in God as many Jews don't believe. Torah is our literature, our history, our system of beliefs, our holidays, our reason for being Jews. Jews have died for Torah and I think that we need to maintain it at all costs as a value in our lives. It is who we are.

Is Torah Spiritual?

To me, Torah presents the morals and ethics of our people. Do I find spititual connections in Torah? I do. The feeling of spirtuality for me is in the connection to what has come before me. The people, places and struggles inscribed in the Torah are a behavioral and ethical road map for me. I seem to face many of the same human struggles that are written in the five books. The emotions, behaviors and actions of the past has a profound effect on me today. I do find spirtual connection in the stories and lessons of the Torah.

Last Night, Standing there at Sinai, I Received Torah Again

What is Torah to me? How does it touch me spiritually?  

Last night, I stood there at Mt. Sinai, as the shofar sounded, the lights twinkled brightly, my heart shook, and we again received Torah from the Holy One.  Time morphed as simultaneously I found myself in our sanctuary in 2010 and at the foot of the holy mountain 3000+ years before. I stood with our congregation at the same time as I stood with our post-Exodus people.  That's what it means, I think, to be Jewish. So simultaneously in the present and in the past, all the while looking forward to the future. That's what happens to me on Shavuot, our holy day of matan Torah, receiving the Torah again and again. 

In the Rosh Hashana morning service (in our Sha'arei Am machzor), I love the poem that articulates the mystery of Torah as the juxtaposition of a mundane human creation and eternality:

Two wooden sticks, the skin of a kosher animal and some chemicals mixed together. That’s all it takes to make a Torah.
That and four thousand years of wandering, searching, learning, following, leading, loving, and blessing.

Two wooden sticks, the skin of a kosher animal and some chemicals mixed together. That’s all it takes to make a Torah.
That and four thousand years of teaching, hoping, remembering, planting, praying, praising.

That’s all it takes to make a Torah.
That and four thousand years of living with God.

Torah for me is humanity striving for holiness, for godliness. 
Torah for me is the Holy One striving to guide us toward goodness.
Torah for me is a plan for partnership between the Holy One and our holy people. 

What's Torah for you?

Spirituality.....Am I or Am I Not?

Been ruminating about this topic for 2 weeks now; how do I define spirituality and when do I feel it. Did I feel it when I was a child? I attended Hebrew school and Sunday school, was a Bat Mitzah and as a family we attended services for the High Holy days and celebrated Passover and Hanukkah.
I always felt a connection to Passover. Was it because it was a pivotal moment for the Jewish people or just the memories of my beloved Grandpa leading the service?
I walked away from Judaism immediately following my Bat Mitzvah when I had the choice whether or not to participate. Did I feel spiritual then? Was something missing?
Went back to the Temple to be part of the confirmation class. Was that a feeling of spirituality or just the fact that I enjoyed the challenges of learning?
Left conventional Judaism behind until Abby was a toddler. Suddenly it was important to give her knowledge about being a Jew. This was something we had to live, to experience and to have in our lives. Luckily Brad and I have similar feelings about Judaism and God and we found ourselves drawn to the Family Service at the Rec Center. We loved the lightness of the Rabbi and Cantor, and how it appealed to all ages. Most of all we loved that it was a change from the seriousness of the Judaism of our youth. Was that spirituality? Or just enjoying being together as a family?
So here I am on the quest to define spirituality. Do I feel more spiritual now that we are part of a Temple? That's an easy "yes" if for no other reason than it's in my conscience. I am aware of it. Do I feel spiritual when I'm participating in religious experiences? Truthfully, most of the time it's rote and automatic. The times I feel most spiritual are when we are in an outdoor setting. There's something about the awesomeness of nature and the chanting of ancient words that puts me into a spiritual nirvana.
To me spirituality is transcending; tapping into a higher level. It needs to involve my brain along with a variety of senses. I have definitely been more spiritual and more aware of it in the past 3 years. I strive to let go of the clutter of life and focus......and transcend.

God, Me and You, Sitting around a Campfire

Cross posted on Or Am I?

We celebrated Shabbat around a campfire in Old Agoura tonight. 210 of us in a circle, singing, smiling, praising the Holy One.

Is it really Jewish to feel so inspired out in the open? Sitting under the stars? Gathering around a campfire?

Moses was inspired by flames dancing in a bush in the wilderness. Why are we?

A story...

When the most spiritual of rabbis wanted to speak with the Holy One, he would go out to the forest, to a special place known only to him, where he would sing special words to a particular tune, and by doing so, open his conversation with the Holy One.

Over time, his students forgot where exactly in the forest he would go, but they still felt the need to commune with the Holy One. So they would gather somewhere, build a fire, sing those special words to his particular tune, and open their conversation with the Holy One.

Then, their students lost their connection with the words that opened the conversation, but they knew how to build a campfire and how to sing song. So they gathered somewhere, built the fire and sang.

As the generations passed, they forgot to go out into nature. They forgot to build the campfire. They forgot the words. Some even forgot to sing. But still, they yearned. For something inspiring. For a connection to the Eternal.

So at Or Ami, we reignite the spark within, as we sit around a campfire. We sit under the stars, because we recognize that the Holy One is most often felt amidst the wonder of the natural world. And we sing ancient words to new melodies because the music and the experience touches our soul.

The Long Road

I was born a poor Presbyterian.

Ok, that's using a little dramatic license. Although, my grandmother was born in the Kentucky hills and moved west by horse drawn carriage, and my father in a logging camp in central Washington State, by the time I came along my father's hard work ethic and ingenuity made our family far from poor. I was however, born a Presbyterian. I remember attending church and Sunday school regularly at a very young age. That stopped around age 5, not long after we lost my older brother in a car accident when he was a freshmen in college. It seemed that my parents had lost "faith". As a teen I struggled with the dogmatic idea of god as I perceived it from christian based teachings and questioned how one group's beliefs could be the one truth and path to heaven or hell, when there were so many others in our world. I did not believe in GOD.

Sometime when I was about 14, I was in the High Sierra back country on our family's annual spring camping trip. One day while sitting naked and alone on a riverbank, next to a natural hot spring which looked over a large open meadow, I felt the warm sun drench my skin, and that's the moment I discovered God. You see, at that moment I felt the warmth of the sun, I looked at the pure beauty that surrounded me from the grass I sat on, to the trees and the majestic mountains beyond on the horizon. I listened to the wind blow through the surrounding forest, the sound of the stream flowing beside me, and the birds calling at each other from vast distances. It was at that moment that God was released, for me, from the dogma. God was not a being, a spirit, someone pulling the strings, deciding who lives or dies, God was a place, the place I was at that moment, God was surrounding me.

Fast forward 30 years

(more on my journey to Judaism another time)

At high holiday services this past fall (2009), Rabbi Kipnes spoke of a place in one of his sermons. HaMakom the Rabbi explained was "The Place", was God.

http://rabbipaul.blogspot.com/2010/04/unchain-your-faith-one-rabbis-radical.html

This was a revelation to me. Although a few years prior our children had brought Judaism and spirituality back into our lives, I had never revisited that initial connection I had with God on that day 30 years earlier. On this day, in the Calabasas Community Center, "The Place" came back to me. The thoughts this provoked were profound, however short lived, I soon reentered the daily grind of the job, and our family's hectic schedule, leaving little time for spirituality. On February 27th that all changed, when I lost my soul mate and wife of 20 years to a tragic accident in the very same mountains that I had first found God. In the days, weeks and months that have now passed I have been on an amazing spiritual journey that started at "The Place", with HaMakom.

Today I find my heart and mind in a very peaceful, accepting place, where I can feel the loving presence of Erica and the joy that she brought to mine and so many others' lives, because she is now part of "The Place", of God.

Every day I wake with the rising sun and look forward to my continued path of spirituality, learning, sharing and understanding more with every step. I anticipate this to be a life long journey which will continue to bring joy and peace to my life, and hopefully our children's, in our place here on earth.

I find HaMakom within.

I'm Not There Yet

I've been seeking Jewish spirituality for years now, but I don't feel spiritual. Although many of my friends think I'm the most Jewish person they know, I know my inner self and it isn't nearly as spiritual as I'd like. I've actively sought it in classes I've taken and classes I've given. I've gone to weekend Institute for Jewish Spirituality seminars. I've led a couple of Shabbat services. I've read the Torah about 5 times. I can argue effectively about the existence of G-d and about my purpose on this earth. I do, very rarely, look at a crowd of people (as I did in a Costco last week) and try to see the devine and the face of G-d in each of them.

However, I don't keep Shabbat. I don't look forward to the Jewish holidays. I take the name of the lord in vain when I miss a 3 foot putt (and other times). I don't keep kosher. Most days I forget that I'm Jewish. Most days there is no spark and no light in my life.
What do I need to do to get spiritual?
Why is it so hard?

Maybe I'm trying too hard.
I like the idea from Heisenberg, who says that when we look too closely at something, we can't see it because we, ourselves, interfere with seeing it. I also remember a talk that R. Mordechai Finley recently gave where he said that people should stop seeking happiness. He said that serving others and doing good deeds is the only way to real happiness. I'm also reminded of the words of the great New World Jewish scholar Rapki (R. Paul Kipnes). I was taking a "Jewish Spirituality" class with him about 15 years ago. I told him I was having a hard time believing in G-d. He told me not to worry. He said to just try to live and act "as if there was a G-d" and to see what happens.
OK. Good. I'll relax a bit. Let's see what happens.
I'm still waiting.

Seeking Spirituality Got Me in Deep Doo Doo

I was always the kind of kid who did what I was told and didn't argue or ask why. I went through the motions (and drudgery) of Hebrew school, had a Bat Mitzvah, then Confirmation/Hebrew High where I was elected Head Girl...whatever that meant. It was all social for me; no real depth to anything I did that was related to Judaism.
When I was 14, I began to "stir the pot" if you will. I became somewhat rebellious and thoroughly enjoyed straying from the norm. One of our Confirmation teachers was a woman very different from any other teacher I had ever had. She believed in things of a psychic nature and I was mesmerized by the kind of teaching she offered. She invited a small group of us students over to her house, which, in today's world would have been a BIG no-no, but I wanted to do it, and besides, my boyfriend was going too, so how could I miss out? She had this cool machine that she said would measure our energy force. We each put our hands on the glass of this machine and the resulting picture showed a thin halo of light around our fingerprints. WOW, I was impressed! Then, as a group, we said a few Jewish prayers and listened to some quiet music and then we let the machine take another photo of our fingers. This time, to my amazement, the halo of light was twice as thick and much brighter than the picture taken earlier. Our teacher explained that prayer and music were very powerful forces that have a deep effect on our spiritual being. I had NO clue what she was talking about then, but now I know it as being my first bout with spirituality. I came home from that session and was so excited about what I had learned that I blurted it all out to my mom and dad. With raised eyebrows, they looked back and forth to each other and I knew they were not happy nor comfortable with where I had been nor what I had learned with this teacher. My mom called our rabbi the very next day in addition to forbidding me to go to the teacher's house ever again. But I went...again and again...something new and very exciting was opened up in me.
Time went by and I was in college. I went to the Hillel house on campus and had a Jewish boyfriend, but other than that, my spiritual connection was dormant as I concentrated on my studies. When I was a Junior, a group of my girlfriends decided we would try out a program at Aish Hatorah where young adults were brought together for discussion and learning. We all enjoyed it, not for the learning, mind you; there were some really cute boys that came to the weekly meetings! After a few months, I became friends with one of the rabbis at Aish and was invited to a "Discovery" weekend. I was told that all my questions about God and spirituality would be answered. I called my mom to tell her I was going away for the weekend and explained to her what it was all about. My rabbi got a call from her just moments later.
As I write this, I am chuckling to myself picturing her calling my rabbi to tell him there must be something wrong with me that I was continually looking for answers about life, my religion, myself. Isn't that what we're supposed to be doing while we're here? But my parents saw things differently, and therefore my first attempts at seeking spirituality got me into trouble. But I am thankful for my psychic teacher and for Aish and for anything else that has touched my life and made me aware of the spirituality within me. It ebbs and flows now that I am an adult. There are times when I feel like a zombie, going through life without really feeling anything, without really participating wholeheartedly. And there are other times when I feel like I am truly on the path that was intended for me. The spirit in me, that little slice of God that lives within the walls of my body is alive and kicking and tapping me on the shoulder saying, "Keep it up...you're heading the right way...don't veer off the path." I get this feeling when I sing my kids the Sh'ma before they go to bed, I feel it in temple when the congregation is praying and singing together, and I feel spiritual when I wake up in the morning with a smile on my face, ready to conquer the day. Heck, I'm even feeling it as I sit here writing.

Really excited to take part in this blog and learning more about you all!

Seeking G-d

I was so flattered when Rabbi Kipnes asked me to join this blog, but mostly I was amazed that he though I might actually have something interesting to say!
I am participating because it's an honor to do so, and because I have learned that it is in the seeking of G-d that I find any serenity at all.

I come by spirituality by accident; by survival really. There came a time in my twenties, when my back was against the wall, death was staring me in the face, and I had to make a choice: find a reason to be here, or leave. It was then that I began what is now a 20 year journey along a spiritual path. My journey has been anything but smooth, but I continue on it, nonetheless. I have no choice.

I feel spiritual when I can't take one more step; when I can't show up for one more person, or one more responsibility, or even one more day. Then from somewhere either deep inside of me or outside of me (maybe both), I am able to move forward. I feel spiritual when, once in a while, I feel joy, or I have a wave of gratitude, or I get a renewed zest for life. I feel spiritual when my children tell me they love me, and when I realize how lucky I am to have been given a second chance.

I feel spiritual when I am able to forgive myself.

EB

Spirituality when saying Shema

Alan (StopCancerNow) writes:

Bryce Cyn., being in the outdoors, I AGREE, is an amazing place to feel the connection with ones spirituality (and Yosemite too). For certain, I have felt my spirituality outdoors. Having a baby is an amazing time to feel spirituality! While I love the outdoors and all that represents in mother nature/G*d; for me, my *Jewish*spirituality, has developed more as I live life day after day and listen to a book repeatedly, called:"The Art of Happiness" by the Dali Lama. (I also feel spirituality in listening to song and surf.)

And mostly my spirituality has come together for me when saying the amazing prayer, The Shema, while my wife, sister and close friend were dying.
GO figure?!?

Death is part of life. The Shema is like a mini Kaddish. Finding spirituality in times of struggle, like death and in actions, such as: 'Random Acts of Kindness,' seem to be another place where I find Spirituality too. Shalom

PS When I meditate and focus on breath, stretch and balance (BSB), I find my Spirituality as one too.

Springing Leaks

Why did I sign on to participate in this conversation about spirituality? I promised Rappi Kipnes a couple of years ago that I would get more involved in Or Ami when I wrapped up a huge volunteer commitment I had at my children's school. That gig is a wrap, and now I have time for a new type of exploring.

When have I ever felt spiritual? I feel a little shy about confessing this, but usually I know I am feeling spiritual when so much joy or love or awe or pure emotion wells up inside of me that a few drops of this feeling leak out my eyes (some people call this crying, but to me that term applies to the more whole-body experience associated with pain and grief). Beauty, really, seems to be the common factor for these leaks I spring. The beauty and power that comes from connections among people: voices joined together in song, people joined together to help or create, shared milestones that mark a passage from one phase of life to the next.

The beauty in these human connections fills me with so much awe that I think this must be what has inspired others throughout history to feel "faith" and to codify ideas about spirituality that can be shared with others, ideas that we call religion. To me, springing leaks helps me glimpse something greater than myself, and these glimpses are how I experience G-d.

Why Spirituality - Seeking G-d Like Moments

Why did I respond to Rabbi Paul to enter into this conversation? Seeking spirituality is a journey I have found myself on for a long time going back to my teenage years. It is different than a religious experience for religion can be bogged down with the dogma of who may be speaking or the prayer book being read. A spiritual experience seems to have its own unique energy unrelated to anything written in the Tanakh or other formal religious documents. To me I call it having a G-d like moment.

I have main three main categories of my spiritual or G-d like moments: (i) being deep in the wilderness (usually the mountains but the sea shore is also good), (ii) the birth of my children (all three of them), and (iii) meaningful conversation (e.g., not about weather and politics but about life its own self) with others (both friends and strangers).

I love being in the open spaces of the mountains or the sea shore. Being away from man-made objects or man-made noises seems to allow the life forces to speak to me, which some of us may called G-d. I can actually feel the energy, experiencing true awe of the beauty around me, and how I am part of something bigger than myself.

My children being born was another interesting experience. All three times I actually felt the new energy of my newborn child come into the LDR. I was overwhelmed with emotions I was unaware I had. I remember calling my mom with tears running down my cheeks and how much joy I felt that that I had just become a father.

Lastly, I am moved by the little yet meaningful moments of life. Talking to a stranger on an airplane and finding out where they are going and where they are coming from. Talking to a new person at Or Ami, any new person at work or a friend's social gathering. I appreciate the things we may have in common and/or the new ideas and views I may learn speaking with someone with a different perspective. I believe that if we could all be more open to hearing new ideas and viewpoints and not discount or argue with them, we are on the road to the Messianic age: a greater peace on earth in that no idea to help the common good is to bold or brash. I must state that these ideas for the common good must espouse the basic tenants of a sane and balanced life in that we all do unto others that which we would only do unto ourselves (e.g. do not violate our basic rights of life: the pursuit of life, liberty and happiness).

I look forward to continuing this dialogue with the group and searching for the deeper meanings of life and why we are all here on Earth.

When God Winks

For the better part of my adult life, I have considered myself more spiritual than religious. Brought up in a Jewish home in Framingham, Massachusetts where I attended Hebrew School three times a week, High Holiday services and became a Bat Mitzvah, I knew early on I was not into "religion" but yet, was very "spiritual". My earliest memory of "feeling religion", or what I recognize as becoming "spiritual" was at overnight camp in Pembroke, Massachusetts when I was ten years old. I remember sitting at Friday night Shabbat services in the pine grove with 400 other Jewish girls all dressed in white and blue and "feeling" Shabbat. I remember watching the water on the lake move with the each blow of the wind and singing "Bim Bom" and knowing that I loved what I was feeling. Flash forward six years, I am in Israel, at The Western Wall, Shabbat in July. I can remember the "feeling of Shabbat" in Israel like it was yesterday. It was not until six years after that Shabbat in Israel, that I was living in New York City and attended B'Nai Jeshurun Services on a Friday night. I had a spiritual awakening. I immediately felt like I was ten years old again in the pine grove watching the waves in Lake Oldham. For me, it was the validation I needed to know that I was exactly where I was supposed to be in my life. I have many moments that I can recall having that "validation", just knowing that I am where I am supposed to be. It's like G-d is talking to me. I have been told that it is called "When God Winks". It is God's way of telling you that you are on the right path. We moved from New Jersey to California this past summer and I was referred to Congregation Or Ami by a friend I attended summer camp with and had recently reconnected with through Facebook. She had known Rabbi Kipnes and told me that I would love the congregation. I immediately set up a phone conversation with Rabbi Kipnes. During the first three minutes, Rabbi said to me "let me tell you a little bit about myself....I was born in Framingham Union Hospital in Framingham, Massachusetts". That was all I needed to know. God winked.

My (sort of) first Jewish Spiritual encounter was a negative one. I lived in Cleveland, Ohio at the time and I was in elementary school. I had gone to use the bathroom at school and it was there that I encountered two classmates - not friends, just classmates. They were boisterous and a bit obnoxious but I paid them no mind. Not paying any attention to them caused one of them to call me a "dirty Jew". I said nothing and left. I wasn't sure why they said that or for that matter, what it really meant. I wasn't dirty - not in my house, you bathed (no showers) daily and washed your hands before every meal, and when you came inside from playing outdoors. But, I was Jewish.

I spoke to my mother and later she and my father had a little talk with me about being Jewish, about our grandparents that lived with us, the Orthodox home we kept, family in Europe, troubles in Europe, and the Temple we belonged to. A beautiful picture was unfolding for me and strong impressions were etched into my brain. I was proud. I knew who I was. I had a new understanding.

I had an identification that would travel with me through the rest of my life.

A First Jewish Spiritual Moment

There have been deep spiritual moments in my life, but I would like to share my earliest memory of a Jewish one.

Growing up, my family didn't belong to a synagogue. Being Jewish meant celebrating Chanukah instead of Christmas, and Passover instead of Easter, and eating strange foods which disgusted my friends. There were usually no more than three of us in my elementary school classes at a time each year, and when I occasionally went to church with my friend on Sundays, I tried to "look Christian" and prayed that the protestants in the room falled for my disguise. For the most part, being jewish meant being different and feeling like an outsider.

Thankfully, things changed at the age of eight, when I set foot in a synagogue for the first time to attend a Jewish wedding. I kept looking around, amazed that there could be that many Jews all together in the same room, and repeatedly asked my parents, "Are all these people really Jewish?". I instantly felt a spiritual connection to every Jew there, and remember getting goose bumps (the good kind). It felt new and familiar at the same time. It was a profound moment that I remember vividly, and is that same feeling I get to this day, when I feel closer to God. It was the very beginning of my longing and curiosity to to find spiritual connections, and I still get goose bumps participating with our congregation.

I love being Jewish!

Wow I have never bogged before, and find it a bit nerve racking, but I could not pass up Rabbi Paul's invitation to "talk" about spirituality. Where do I begin? I grew up in an orthodox home and never really under stood or related to the Jewish part of me. We did things because my mom said this is the way we do it, never explaining the reason's why we Jews do what we do. It wasn't until 13 years ago I was part of the 12 families that started Or Ami, that I really connected to the spirituality side of being a Jew. I learned why we do the things we do, through Torah Study with Rabbi Paul, conversations with other Or Ami members and most importantly my studies through The Melton School. I am a completely different person now than I was years ago. My understanding of Jewish law has changed me to become a better Jew, not in the ritual sense, but in the spirituality sense. I am so PROUD to be Jewish, to be part of a of a people who never gave up, and most especially our relationship to G-D. My Jewish spirituality is one of the most important aspects of my life. I LOVE BEING JEWISH AND BEING PART OF OR AMI. Thank You Rabbi Paul for all you have taught me and looking forward to always learning more!
May 2, 2010 11:58 AM

Kavvanah

Spirituality is of the utmost importance in my life and I strive to know it perpetually. This has become easier over the years, which is to say I have to work at it less to feel it more. In my youth Nature took precedence when looking for that "thing", in fact I have felt, and still feel HaMakom in Nature on an acute level. From Nature I progressed to meditation focused on the Universe. Useful, though I always felt there was something more. For me, I experience HaMakom on the deepest level while living aware of the ordinary. For instance, watching in awe as my shy, 8 year-old son Quinn jumped up on the table in front of 19 people during Pesach to tell in his words both literally and metaphorically the story of Exodus (יציאת מצרים). My daughter Sofia, as she put on her Tallit for the first time, standing tall, shoulders back, eyes fixed, understanding she was proud to be a Jew. My wife Janna as she laughs. Standing as a family within a family at Or Ami while singing the Shema. Yes, I find living in the moment, catching the little things and appreciating them as they happen are my most profound moments. I also find that my deepening sense of what it means to be a Jew has brought me to this place.

My Most Spiritual Experience

Childbirth. Definitely. I have had 24 hours to think more about this question oto think of a great spiritual moment and this is what I have come to. The moment of being handed a baby that just came from my own insides. I think there is no better time to be confronted most powerfully with the awe and magic of the transfer of life and the connection to something miraculous and greater than the sum of the parts. I recall the immediate love and overwhelming gratefullness and sense that I needed to thank God for the beautiful gift of our newborn Danielle.
by
Stacy M.

Watch the roads! Spirituality Seeking New Blogger on the Web!

I feel a bit like a virgin. Here it is 2010 and this is the first time I have ever created a new post on the internet. (Facebook updates don't count, right?) I'm nervous, leaving this "permanent record" of momentary thoughts that I may no longer agree with in my old, possibly crabby, age. What if I write something, totally sure about my feelings on the topic when I hit "Publish Now" but a second, a week, a month, a lifetime later I change my mind? I can be wishy washy that way. I waffle like that in my spirituality, too. One thing consistently makes me feel most spiritual - being outside. Yeah, I know. Skin cancer. Wrinkles. Age Spots. Do not try this without consulting your physician. But I find that if I get time outside, whether gardening, hiking or just reading a magazine outside, I feel most spiritual. It's like being a part of the universe to feel the breeze and sunshine on my face, to hear the leaves rustling and birds singing, to smell the roses, jasmine and honeysuckle (you can tell what's blooming in my yard right now, can't you?) I never tire of being outside. Just don't ell my dermatologist how spiritual I am. He'll lecture me.

Beginning a Conversation about Spirituality

For me, talking about spirituality is central to my life. I have always been seeking something deeper, something higher, something... more. I spent six week long periods in exploring Jewish spirituality at the Institute for Jewish Spirituality. It was one of the most powerful experiences of my adult life (aside from marriage, having kids, etc.). I remember standing on top of Bryce Canyon and feeling connected in with something greater. I wrote about it - about HaMakom - The Place - That God is Everyplace - in an sermon on Yom Kippur 2009. Now I seek others who want to talk more about spirituality. I hope you do too!

by Rabbi Paul Kipnes