Goodbye 200X

A decade ago I was a senior in high school, trying to figure out what college to go to, what it would be like living away from home, thinking that by the end of the decade I'd have a job, have lived in the real world, everything was possible.
And today, I am still in school, only this time, trying to decide what I'll be doing next year, where I'll be working, what will be next. SO here's a rundown of the highlights of my life in the past decade:
2000: Graduated High School, Started UMICH
2004: got accepted to Ziegler School, Graduated UMICH, met some amazing people in LA
2005: Nana passed away, learned how to drive in LA
2006: Moved to Israel for 9 months, learned I love Pastoral care,
2007: Learned to love living in Israel, Loved coming home more, Summer in Chicago, Papa died, I turned a quarter century old, Dad died, I met DUNCAN
2008: Got my Masters in Education, got engaged
2009: Got married, mastered 60 daf (120 sides) of Talmud, held down 3 jobs simultaneously
2010: I will be ORDAINED as a RABBI!!!

Its amazing to thinka bout all the experiences, emotions, love, loss, friendship and growing that has taken place over the last decade, and I am so proud of myself and how far I've come. I can't wait to see what this next year and decade brings with it, I am so ready!!

Interrupting God

Over the last few years I have been grappling with God, sometimes it felt like a fight, other times it felt like we were alternating giving one another the silent treatment, and others it just felt awkward. And as this last few months have gone by and the reality of my ordination is becoming clearer, I have struggled to find a place with prayer and God that I think is genuine. I want to move into that relationship once more.
I am ready to reenter into prayer and God relationships. While on the cruise ship in the middle of nowhere I had a moment where I started to converse with God again, it wasn't about prayer or set time, it was just me on the balcony watching the ocean ripple as the boat moved through the open space, no other life visible save for the sky, the waves and the entire world living under the water. And I talked to God, I cried, and I sat. It felt really good. The first time I did this I felt like an intruder, like I had somehow wandered into God's private, alone space, the beauty of them middle of the ocean, but as the days went on I felt more at home in God's world. It was just what I needed. So, where to next??

Another Turning Point

Today I was driving home from school after an intense week involving many conversations about where we will be in a year, what the future holds, many unknowable ideas and grappling this morning with my own struggle with God a song from my past came on the radio.

"Another turning point a fork stuck in the road. Time grabs you by the wrist directs you where to go. So make the best of this task and don't ask why. It's not a question but a lesson learned in time. It's something unpredictable but in the end it's right, I hope you had the time of your life." ~Green Day

This song used to be one of my favorite songs, it provided me some sense of calm and comfort when it seemed my life was out of control, out of order, strange, frustrating. And today, it came on the radio as all these thoughts of change and moving were on my mind and once again I was calm. I am here at another turning point, a fork in the road. I don't know where I'll be 9 months from now. For the first time in my life I have no idea what comes next. Will I work in a pulpit, will I work in a school, will I combine the two? Will I stay in LA, will I move back to Michigan, Texas, the east coast? Will I have friends there? So many choices need to be made, some of which I have no control over other than trying my hardest, putting my best foot, face and mind forward and being totally fit for the job.

And then I was thinking about rabbinical school, what a strange, incredible, long, exhausting, exhilarating journey I have been on for the last 6 years. I have grown, changed. I have fallen in love, made a new community for myself. I have lost many loved ones. I have gained weight and lost weight, smiled, laughed, cried, screamed and argued my way through so many pages of Talmud. Through the history and tradition that I love so dearly. It has been an incredible journey and I would be lying if I said I was glad it is ending. I am terrified, but excited, certain it will be an experience like none other.

And I have learned. I learned a little bit about who I am, about what motivates me, about what terrifies me. I wrestle with God daily, with the question of God, with the relationship I have with God, with what I used to know to be true and can no longer believe. I learned about traditions, law, philosophy, and I only hope I can remember it all.

Rabbi as Relationship Therapist

In order to begin the job search process as part of the last year of rabbinical school (WOAH!), we had to come up with our metaphor for the rabbinate. I spent a lot of time debating over different metaphors- rabbi as park ranger, rabbi as juggler, rabbi as conductor. But none of these really resonated with me in what I see as the role of the Rabbi. I settled on Rabbi as Relationship Therapist. As a rabbi I see it as my role to help people build relationships, plumb the depths of the relationships, what makes them work? How have they changed? What are we lacking in them? What can we do better? As a rabbi I want to help people build relationships with themselves, with their partners, lovers, friends, community, texts, traditions, history and with God. My job is to help these relationships blossom, flourish, and grow into a deeper, more meaningful relationship. Along the way, I will offer encouragement, suggest texts to push the learning deeper. I will engage in the hard conversations that accompany growing with oneself and with one another. I will be supportive on the journey and challenging when a little push is needed to really move to the next level in these relationships. Sometimes our relationships are broken, in disrepair, and I hope to be able to guide others through the process of healing. This is my hope as a rabbi- to be able to foster relationships with, love of and comfort with Judaism, people, tradition, ourselves.

A Shelter of Peace: Finding my Space

A D'var Torah given on Friday Night, Erev Sukkot at my internship. Actual delivery varied from text!

growing up in Michigan my biggest sukkot worry was that it would snow in the sukkah, or those other times when it would rain and the paper chain I'd spent hours piecing together would be ruined, soggy, gone. Sukkot always meant hot apple cider, chilly nights outside, mittens. And then I came to LA, it was warm, even comfortable in the sukkah, I didn't have to worry about my paper chains being ruined- what a weird experience. It wasn't until I moved to LA 6 years ago that I even learned that Schach, the word for what we cover the sukkah with didn't mean evergreen. I came to LA and was very confused when there were palm branches on top of the Sukkah, Of course they didn't have evergreen trees in the desert as they were traveling, but for me, it was a huge blow to my world.

A couple of weeks ago as I was learning more about Etz Chaim, I heard the following conversation: There was a problem with the Schach, the covering for the Sukkah. Apparently if it was delivered too soon it would dry out and become a fire danger. Now, some of you might be thinking, DUH, this is obvious, it's dry, we live in a desert? I'd never even thought about that, I only saw the luxury in living somewhere that had weather above freezing for sukkot.

listening to this conversation I was again humbled at my place on this earth. Sukkot, this holiday we have just entered into provides us with a space to think about our journeys. While we may not be physically journeying from place to place with this temporary structure as our only shelter, we are journeying through life. We have just spent days thinking about who will live and who will die, praising God for the good in our life, wondering how we can help others. And now we have arrived at Sukkot and are again reminded of our temporary residence in the world. The sukkah, like our relationships with one another takes effort to build, requires constant care, checking in on, nurture in order to make it through just an 8 day celebration. The sukkah stands for us as a symbol of community.

Ufros Aleinu Sukkat Shelomeicha. Spread over us the shelter of your peace, of your completion. This phrase is part of the Hashkiveinu prayer said every night during Ma'ariv, the evening service. It has always stood out to me as a line of poignancy, one that speaks to me on many levels. Physically, we build the sukkah, we build this temporary structure to live in for the 8 days of the holiday. It becomes our home, our center. And on a much higher level, we think about a much larger structure, being wrapped, embraced in God's arms, in God's shelter of peace, of tranquility, of completion. The Sukkah is much bigger than what we can build in our own backyard.

We are on a journey, trying to find the space that we will call our own. The sukkah thtat we build is strong, but can only last for so long.

We ask God to spread over us his shelter of peace, to support us on our journey. Ufros Aleinu Sukkat Shelomecha. Over the next week as we celebrate the joy of the harvest festival, as we continue on our journey through life, finding our place under the shelter of peace, think about where your journey is taking you. We have this gift each year of 8 days to sit with ourselves, to think about where our journey is taking us.

And so, it is my prayer, my hope, the prayer of my heart that God spreads over you, over us his/her shelter of peace. That each of us finds our peaceful place, a place of center, contentment, happiness. That the loving embrace of God helps each of us to find our own place, our makom Kavua (set place) in this world, and we enjoy the journey to that place!

Shabbat Shalom, Chag Sameach!

REMEMBER ME

A drash on V'zot HaBrachah- once again, written text is not what the actual presentation was!

what if you could write your own Eulogy, you own ethical will? What would you say? who would you bless? How will you be remembered? What would others say? We are often remembered by our words, what we say to another person can often leave a mark.

This Parshah, Parshat V'zot HaBrachah is Moses's ethical will, his parting words to the people of Israel. As I was growing up, my dad used to send me emails of encouragement, of support, of blessings and of love. When he is no longer here with me, his words remain, encouraging me, they allow him to live on.

In many ways, Moses's words in our parshah do the same thing. he brings in memory of what was, he reminds them of what he had seen them do, who they were and how far they have come. Deuteronomy, Chapter 33, verse 1 states: This is the blessing with which Moses, the man of God, bade the Israelites farewell before he died. And then goes on to bless the tribes. The order of this blessing and the blessings given are nearly identical to what is given to those tribes in Genesis. Moses concludes his life with a blessing, with his wishes and dreams for the future.

in Chapter 34, verse 5, Moses dies, "So Moses, the servant of the Lord died there, in the land of Moab, at the command of the lord." The verse states Al-Pi-Adonai literally by the mouth of the lord. So I ask the question, what does it mean to die by the mouth of the lord?

In the Babylonian Talmud, in Moed Katan, 28a the Talmud states that God reclaimed the soul of Moses by kissing him. The same God who breathed life into Adam in the beginning of the Torah takes Moses in the same way at the end. Life, Breathe, a Kiss. So simple, so profound. Our mouth is the window to our soul- we live through it, we can injure with it, our words can hurt and heal, By the mouth Moses died, and by the mouth, we live.

In tractate Brachot 31 the Talmud teaches that a person should only leave his fellow with a word of Halachah, a piece of Law as it is through this that one will be remembered. Our words allow us to remember people, to create meaning and memory. After we are gone, whether by distance or by death, often our words are how we are remembered.

Our Parshah- V'zot HaBrachah tells us that this is the blessing. We are able to use our mouth, life is blown into us to bless us, we can bless those around us. This is what our blessing is.

Moses will be remembered through his blessings, his laws, his deeds. My father will be remembered by so many for so many things, but his legacy for me lives on through his emails, those words that speak to me more each day.

What is your blessing?

Really God?! Teshuva, Tefillah, Tzedakah make it better?

Because if this is better, if this is a lesser Decree, I dont' want to know what the other end is like.

I sit here today, one day out of the days of repentance feeling a bit angry, and a bit alone. I'm not sure I understand the world in any sense. And don't get me started on belief in God.

We just spent the last 10 days beating ourselves up, fasting, repenting, striking our chest as we confessed to all the times we have missed the mark in our life. I spent time thinking about all the things I've done that i wish to do better in the coming year. i am really really trying, really trying to change, to grow, to be a better person. But sometimes I wonder what God tries to do. Does God try to improve? Because right now, at this moment I am angry with God, I am angry with the way the world is playing with my emotions. Why should I work to better myself, beat myself up and praise God when it seems that so many awful things happen in the world.

This is much bigger than the question of why bad things happen to good people. I said over and over again that God is the decider of each person's fate- who will live and who will die, who the length of their days and whose life will be cut too short. And i say the words and I am angry.

I have always loved the High Holy day liturgy, the beautiful melodies that seem to pierce my soul, the feeling of change, of a clean slate. I was forever looking forward to the reminder of my mortality. I didn't have much of a problem praising God, I believed in a fair and just God. I believed that if i really tried, that if people really tried, if people did Teshuva, tefillah and tezedakah, the decree would be lessened, God wouldn't be so harsh to good, genuine people.

And then my dad died, and all those times i said the Amidah and prayed for healing felt like they meant nothing. I prayed for a while, not loosing my faith, until we got to Rosh HaShannah and all i felt was anger- how could i pray the words of the unetanetokef prayer and praise God. I can't do it, i oculdn't do it. it makes me angry. Why does God make these decisions, why does this happen, why did a future colleague and wonderful guy that I never met die from a broken hip in perfect health at 27? Why did my dear friend, the father of 3 young boys die? I have a hard time believing in a God that decides this. And having just spent a lot of time looking at a text that gives God the ultimate power in these decisions, i have a hard time believing in that God.

Teshuva.... does it really work? is this any better? any different?

I believe in God, in a higher power because this pain that I feel is not a human pain, it is much deeper. I don't think i will ever feel this much hurt by human hands. But I don't know which kind of God I believe in. Today it is a God of anger, of rage, of pain.

One day I'll be able to forgive God, one day I'll believe in a nicer, more civilized God, but today i am feeling anger and confusion. Today I'm not such a fan of God. I still believe, I'm just not happy with that divine force.

Standing with Intention

*the Drash I Delivered before Ne'ilah on Yom Kippur to the PicoEgal Minyan. This is not at all how it came out of my mouth*

10 days ago Jews sat together as the birth of the world was celebrated. We took joy in the new year, and we were reminded of our mortality. In just the last 10 days we've seen who will live and who will die, who by water- the floods in the South East and who by fire. Our mortality is known, God is judge. We may not have begun the act of teshuva of asking for forgiveness 10 days ago, some of us are planners, some of us began working on the journey of asking for forgiveness long before Rosh HaShannah. And others in this room might be procrastinators, trying to get it all in right now, in this last service before the book of life and to quote reb mimi the book of not so much are sealed. Some of us fall in between. Wherever we fall on the spectrum, we've made it here to this moment.

We have this feeling of accomplishment, We've made it, we're almost there. As a child, I remember coming to services for Neilah, there were no children's services, everyone was in this serious, sort of loopy mood with the affects of the fast weighing heavily on their bodies. I remember my mom and dad talking about standing for an hour, how they dread it every year. My grandparents, sat down while the ark was open, something I'd never seen. And all I wanted to do was wait for Havdallah when I would get my glowstick and get to play on the Bimah.

It was very easy for my parents, who had been fasting all day to focus on the pain of Neilah, the need to stand for what feels like forever. It is easy for us to want to really get through Neilah, we've spent the day beating our chests, standing, sitting, reflecting, we're done. Our mind starts to wander; our feet might hurt, our tummy's are rumbling, we're tired, and rightfully so. The challenge is to stay focused.

It says in the talmud, Masechet Brachot, at the opening to the fifth perek- Ein Omdin L'hitpalel ela mitoch Koved rosh. One should not stand to pray (usually the Amidah) without Koved Rosh- without proper intention in their mind. The Talmud goes on with a lengthy discussion of what this means, and what each suggestion has in common is that one should not stand to pray without a clear mind. Without the space to have uninterrupted communication with the divine, one should not pray.

The Talmud goes on to have a discussion of what it actually means to have Koved Rosh- some might translate it to mean a heavy head. One can only stand in prayer if their head is burdened, if they feel the weight of their deeds. Others interpret it as having Kavanah, as having the proper intention. As being able to focus your mind solely on the task at hand. Prayer is not something that you can multi-task at. You have to be present.

In a few moments we will open the Aron, as a symbol of the open gates to the Temple and metaphorically, the open heavenly gates. We will speak of God as as Noten Yad Le-Foshe'im the god who spreads our his hand in forgiveness to sinners. A God of forgiveness. When all else fails in the work we do, God will forgive.

We are at the last level, the final push towards really entering a new year with a clean slate. Hopefully we have done the work needed to arrive at this moment of Neilah before the gates have closed and really truly stand as individuals, stand as ourselves in pure concentration, pure meditation on what it means to stand before God.

As we begin to chant the last Amidah of the season of repentance, say that last vidui prayer, I challenge each of us to really stand with Koved Rosh, focus your intention on the process, on the meaning, on the work we've done together this last 25 hours.

The challenge is to get over the physical stress and really live in the spiritual challenge of being present. Let us stand here as a community with Koved Rosh, with intention, with focus, with love.

Choose Life, Choose You!

*Text of the Drash I gave on first day Rosh HaShannah at the PicoEgal Minyan before Musaf... delivery definitely varied from the written word! Enjoy!*

A very wise man once wrote to me: I just want you to know that careers and life are not the same. You can change careers and you can change locations but your life is whatever you are and wherever you are. I am not sure I understood what he was saying when I first read this as I was a senior in College, but now, this year, it suddenly makes sense.

This past Shabbat, we read from Parshat Nitzavim Chapter 30 verse 19-20 states:

I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day: I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse, CHOOSE LIFE- if you and your offspring would live, by loving the Lord your God, heeding his commands and holding fast to him, for thereby you shall have life and shall long endure…. ETC.”

The parshah we read leading up to Rosh Hashannah and this new year implores us to choose life. This implies that our destiny is in our hands, we have the choice- CHOOSE LIFE!

This seems fitting as we enter into Rosh Hashanah and a new year. As we will read shortly, today the world was born, HaYom HARAT OLAM- we have a clean slate, a clean beginning. We have the choice to choose how our world will shape up in the next year.

And yet, The text of the Amidah for Musaf states in the Unetanetokef prayer- on Rosh Hashannah it is written and on Yom Kippur it is sealed- God determines the destiny of living creatures- Camah Ya’avorun v’chamah yibarun, Mi Yikyeh u’mi Yamut, Mi B’kiso u’mi lo bkiso, mi ba’esh u’mi ba’mayim, etc. How many shall leave this world and how many shall be born into it, who shall live and who shall die, who shall live out the limit of his days and who shall not, who shall perish by fire and who by water, etc.

This implies that the choice is not in our hands, but God’s hands- our fate is sealed. Since I moved to Southern California, it seems even more real with the fires, earthquakes, mudslides, maybe I don’t have the choice.

So what do we do with these two seemingly contradictory pieces in our texts. As we enter into this task of spending time with ourselves, taking inventory of the past year, trying to seal ourselves into the book of life, we have this task- choose life, choose to live, work on yourself.

The Slonim Rebbe had some of the same questions that I had- is it in our hands, or God’s hands? How can I choose life if it says in the liturgy, God will decide? He teaches that there is a difference between the spiritual and the physical- the text of the unetanetokef- we will live and who will die? is speaking of the physical, those things which we all realize we have little control over. While the text in Nitzavim teaches us on the spiritual, CHOOSE LIFE- it is we choose to live a Godly life, we have the power to choose how our spiritual life will pan out.

It seems to me that these texts always come hand in hand, we have the choice to live, and when we aren’t strong enough to make that choice, God will help us along. We are living in a partnership, to choose life is to choose our own path, to believe, to pray.

That wise man was reminding me that the choice is mine. As we enter into the Musaf, we stand before God, vulnerable, open, exposed, take a moment to make your own choice, with the silence left by the lack of the shofar, take the time to choose life, which direction will you go? With this gift of time, which will you choose? Life? Change? Blessing? Here we are given a gift, the lines to God are open. We are here in this place with one task at hand. We are to take stock in ourselves, open our minds and hearts, speak to god. What is your choice?

2 years

I can't believe it's been two years since I've hugged you, two years since you've shared your wisdom with me, two years since i lost you. where did the time go?

Justice Justice

I am spending this summer working at an organization in Chicago that works with seniors on issues of affordable housing and home care for the older adult population. I spend my days working with people who have worked their whole lives, who have given their all to society, and yet, their pensions don't cover rent, their social security barely covers the basic needs of a month. I work with individuals who deserve to live their lives with dignity, who have only ever treated others as honorable human beings, and yet, they are in a fight with the world to keep their homes, to keep their buildings affordable.
A week ago, one of the members stated that they must stand up for themselves since no one else will do it for them. I'm not sure that statement is true, after all, I spend time with them, I'm fighting for them. I think, rather, they need to stand up for themselves because each individual has a story, a history, a voice that can will you to listen, help, hope with and for them.
I have been thinking about the injustices in the world, which i know are too many to mention. What strikes me the most is that the government thinks I need xx dollars to live on every year, and yet, this amount is at least $10,00 above the poverty line for a family of 4. That's right, I need xx to live on, as a single, working student, and the family of four is expected to live on less than that. I dont' understand the math. I learned that I am expected and asked to live on $xx a month and yet, a social security check, for a woman who has worked since she was 16, is nearly half that. how is that fair. Yes, I can pay back my loans, God-willing one day, but what happened to the value of a life's work? what happens to the widow who has no one to take care of her? what happens to the man who needs a nurse to help him with his daily life but can't afford to pay her with the raise in wages? what happens to the family who is expected to live on $xxx a month, after they've worked three jobs and can't make ends meet?
I dont have the answers, I have an idea as to where to begin- with a relationship, a meeting, getting to know the neighbor you never spoke to. Writing a letter in support of those who helped build our country so we can have the freedoms today. Sometimes, it's hard to find the Justice in our world, the justice in working hard... these are the glory years?!

Alligator Tears

Here I am, back in Chicago, ready to spend my summer making the world better, and my tears are the big droplets, like the raindrops that fell on my head in the storm this morning. They come and go, they are strong, steady, filled with rage, sadness, uncertainty. My life is full of uncertainty, what will happen next? I thought I had it all planned out, thought I knew, and last summer, my life flipped upside down, everything changed, my plan was called into question, my mind forced to go places it never wanted to go, my heart torn clean in two.
And then, i started to heal, started the long, tedious process of stitching my heart back together, of building a new plan, a plan with purpose and meaning, a plan that would fulfill me, a plan that would make my dad and my family proud. A plan i could fulfill. And life went on. I was surprised on the journey, on how strong I could be on the outside and how weak i feel on the inside. I was surprised by how much i could love, how trusting i could be, and scared at the what ifs of love. Excited by what was coming and hurt by indecision and waiting.
I finished my masters, i finished a stage in my plan, and now, my plan is back at zero, I don't' know where i'm going. I am back where I started last summer, my heart's a little healed, but my foundation is shaky, and I am TERRIFIED of the uncertain future ahead of me. and so, I'll cry, big alligator tears, they flow from my inner being, filling pools with my innocent tears, tears of fear, love, uncertainty, sadness, happiness, pain, guilt, a flood of anxiety over a bright future with too much uncertainty.

Days Gone By

I haven't written in a while, partly because of the craziness that comes with graduation (yes, I completed the course work towards my Masters of Arts in Education) and part of it has to do with the numbness I have been feeling towards the world. I guess at this moment, I'm 9, nearly 10 months through the mourning process, and some days I still feel like I did at the beginning, missing him, them more and each day. And some times, i forget it happened, for that brief moment, my life is as I felt it should be, happy, fulfilled, loving every minute. And then something happens, and I want to call them so badly.
A year ago, I stood, ready to receive the Torah, to stand at the mountain for Shavuot a different person. I stood, less strong, more unsure of myself, now i stand, unsure, but strong.
Now I stand, hurting in my very core, craving normalcy, routine, as I did a year ago. I stand here, waiting for the Torah, for direction in my life, for a 5 year plan. I hurt at my core for my family, for those lost in the last year, conversations never had, conversations that can't be had now, that can't ever be had again.

Three of a Kind

This morning, I went to minyan with a friend who had Yahrtzeit for her mother. It also turns out that another friend has Yahrtzeit for her mother today as well. Normally, in the minyan at school, I am the single voice during the Kaddish. When I go home, I am one of many, mostly older individuals saying Kaddish. Today, was the first time I was one of three, women, around the same age, saying Kaddish together. I didn't have my usual, uncomfortable reaction to saying the Kaddish, I wasn't alone. I felt empowered and connected. It isn't that I don't feel anything when I say Kaddish alone, it's just that saying it, with the voices of three women, my age who have made it through this experience and come out on top, brought me a sense of comfort I have not yet felt in my year of saying Kaddish. Today, nobody stared at me, no one looked to see why I was saying Kaddish so young. No one heard my single voice. Today, I felt connected, strengthened by the presence of these two wonderful women.

ON THE BRINK...

Here is the d'var Torah I gave on Friday night at my shul. Actual delivery probably varied slightly from the written text! Also, I have been pondering lately, I promise another post shortly!

Picture this, you’re tired, your feet hurt from standing, walking, waiting. You rushed to get all the cooking done, exhaustion begins to take over, the journey is beginning. For some of you, this might sound like I’m talking about last Friday as you rushed to finish up the preparation for Passover. As tradition has it, tonight, the end of the sixth, beginning of the seventh day of Pesach is the time when the Israelites crossed the sea of Reeds. After years of hard labor in Egypt, 6 days of walking, they finally reached the point of transition. A plethora of possibilities are before the Israelites, but this is only the beginning.

Tomorrow we read from Parshat Beshalach, the splitting of the Sea of Reeds. This Parshah comes on the brink of freedom and the edge of slavery. The Israelites, on their journey, have the ultimate GPS system, a pillar of fire at night and a cloud by day. Through these symbols, God is visibly present for the Israelites, to lead them on their journey.

As the Israelites travel, moving farther away from slavery and closer to freedom, they arrive at the Sea of Reeds, their first obstacle of freedom. If they turn around, the Egyptians, who are in hot pursuit, will capture them and they will return to slavery. If they attempt to cross the sea, they might drown. They stand, awaiting transition, paused in a moment of decision. What to do? The Midrash tells us that Nachshon Ben Ami-Nadav takes a risk, he steps into the water, moves forward, and just as the waters’ depths are nearly over his head, the sea parts, and dry land appears for the Israelites to cross.

Seeing this Miracle, the Israelites begin to sing, the Song of the Sea, praising God as their strength, their warrior, the ultimate being.

עָזִּי וְזִמְרָת יָהּ וַיְהִי־לִי לִישׁוּעָה

“The Lord is my strength and song, He has become my salvation.”

What respect and awe the Israelites exhibit to God in this song! They are grateful, amazed, dancing, and singing. And yet, they cross the sea, arrive safely, having seen the Egyptians swallowed up by the waters, and they begin to complain. They want food, water. They want to go back to Egypt, where life wasn’t so hard, where food was easy to come by. Sound familiar? How many of us are waiting anxiously for the end of Passover, for that piece of bread? How many of us complained about the cleaning the preparation?

In parshat Beshalach, the Israelites experience a continuum of emotions; fear, gratitude, excitement, disappointment, awe, dread, discomfort, and joy. It is a lot to take in for a people so new to freedom. Parshat Beshalach is about finding the balance between these emotions on our journey throughout life.

We stand here, on the brink of our own transition. We’ve cleaned out the chametz, cleaned out the clutter and dirt of our homes. We’ve made it 6 days out on the journey. Passover stands on the balance of rebirth and renewal, will we go back to our old ways, or will we take the leap of Nachshon Ben Ami Nadav? Will we follow the pillar of fire, the light of Torah as we embark on our journey towards Shavuot and Matan Torah? We’ve come far on the journey, 6 days done, we’ve almost made it across the point of no return. Here we stand at the edge of Passover, we’ve done the hard work, how will we emerge?

As Passover comes to an end, as we cross the Sea of Reeds and embrace the freedom that comes with it, may we experience this transition, as not, running way from what was, but running towards what will be. May we be blessed on this journey with foresight. As we enter this Shabbat of transition, may we find ourselves surrounded by the warmth of the pillar of Fire that is Torah, may we be blessed with the strength to follow the sometimes challenging path that leads towards the future.

SHABBAT SHALOM!