Friday, August 31, 2012
Friday, August 24, 2012
My Photo Album of Life
Sensing a memory while
Returning to my roots
Grounded and untethered
Simultaneously
I move like a photo slide show
Different takes for those kaleidoscope karats
We smile knowing
Once we laughed and
We will laugh again.
Returning to my roots
Grounded and untethered
Simultaneously
I move like a photo slide show
Different takes for those kaleidoscope karats
We smile knowing
Once we laughed and
We will laugh again.
Friday, August 17, 2012
What is God Praying for You?
"Just call me on my cell. My house can be difficult to find."
I hobbled through the alleyways of the thick cobbled ancient stone in the Jewish Quarter of the Old City in Jerusalem. I found an open seating area. I called. In moments, an exuberant, petite, head-scarved woman holding a cell phone next to her ear skirted past me.
"Emunah!" I exclaimed.
"You must be Tamara with the red glasses!"
The conversation continued at a rapid pace as we were both curious about the other.
Emunah had made aliyah (immigrated) to Israel forty years ago from Brooklyn. Fourteen children and two husbands later, she now resides inside the walls of the Old City. She is a believer. Her name, Emunah, means faith. She teaches and practices her faith.
When we arrived at her home, she quickly set up chairs outside for the small gathering of four women and one man that enlarged our intimacy. We ate her home-made oatmeal chocolate bars and drank water to refresh ourselves from the middle eastern summer climate.
Emunah reflected about our personal prayer and the power of God’s prayer.
"It is not about what we want. Think about it. What if God wants to pray for us? What wouldGod pray for? Knowing that God loves us. Knowing that God would want the best for us. What would God want for you?"
God’s prayers for me! Perhaps my prayer requests should come from God’s point of view.
"We are all in God’s shadow. We pray because the Holy One of Discernment prays for us."
As we listened to Emunah’s lessons, the day darkened into a bold night. The illumination from Emunah’s question continues to delight and excite me. What is God praying for me now?
Friday, August 3, 2012
Speaking Another Language
Speaking
Hebrew is like learning to sing in a different key. I know the notes
and the musical melody, but the attunement needs my utmost attention.
When I speak Hebrew in Israel, I transport myself back to childhood prayers that I memorized. I plunge forward into a contemporary language where new words are created daily.
I am immersed in this Biblical language whether I am asking for a glass of water -- or I am chanting from the Torah during weekday prayers.
Speaking another language changes your perspective and perhaps your identity.
What I say suddenly matters more.
When I speak Hebrew in Israel, I transport myself back to childhood prayers that I memorized. I plunge forward into a contemporary language where new words are created daily.
I am immersed in this Biblical language whether I am asking for a glass of water -- or I am chanting from the Torah during weekday prayers.
Speaking another language changes your perspective and perhaps your identity.
What I say suddenly matters more.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Ta'ali: Go Up!
Accept the prayer of your people as lovingly as it is offered. Restore worship to your sanctuary. -Rosh Chodesh Amidah
Ta’ali . . . al tif’achadi . . . zeh rak anavim. “Go up. Do not be afraid. They are only stones.” The young woman reached for my hand. I ascended the natural bimah at Robinson's Arch.
The Women of the Wall Rosh Chodesh Av morning prayer service began at 7:00 a.m. One-hundred women created a semi-circle in the back of the women’s section at the Western Wall. Our female voices added a sweet soprano sound to the kotel plaza.
Nevertheless, we were under special security. A young policewoman scanned and recorded the proceedings, while another policeman weaved in and out of the crowd, admonishing several young Israeli women to adjust their tallitot: One of our women was detained last month because she wore a masculine type prayer shawl in a “manly” way.
One woman, holding her prayer shawl under her arm, stood on the side.
“Would you like to put on your tallit?”
“No,“ she replied. “I don’t want to be arrested before Shabbat. I wouldn’t get home in time.”
This month, no one was detained. No one was arrested. Sheer serenity.
After reciting Hallel, the special prayers of praise for the new month, we strolled and sang respectfully and reluctantly up to Robinson’s Arch, designed and designated by a decision of the Israeli Supreme Court in 2003 as a place for alternative services. Women can read Torah or wear traditional prayers shawls only there.
When we reached our outdoor sanctuary, we fussed over the presentation of our special possession, the Sefer Torah. Three women read the passages from the Book of Numbers, Chapter 28, directly from the parchment. Another month of grace under fire.
Ta’ali. Al tif’achadi.
Surrounded by this faithful band of fervent followers, I climbed two stone stairs and began Musaf (a special service which honors the additional sacrifice brought to the Temple in ancient times on festival days like Rosh Chodesh). With every bow and blessing, beating drums were heard from the valleys through to the Jerusalem hilltops. The drums provided a tempo for my public chanting of the Amidah.
The sun streamed gold on my head and warmed my body. Reaching into the pocket of my soul’s seam, my voice found a new timbre and attuned itself to this uneven, unorthodox sanctuary where rocks become seats and walls become personal lean-tos.
For 23 years, with the appearance of the new moon, the Women of the Wall have flocked like birds in search of a nesting place that is both holy and historic.
Ten years ago on Rosh Chodesh Kislev, I experienced a spiritual solidarity with Nashot Hakotel (Women of the Wall) for the first time.
Ta’ali. Al tif’achadi.
Now during the second time, I was the vessel for our supplications. Psalm 104 provided the physical landscape for my entreaties. I was in the place where the Psalms were written. The text twittered through me, electrifying my orientation. Looking upward and searching inward, the strong morning sun crowned my insight and voiced my prayerful personal and public vibrations to the Holy One of Blessings.
You make springs gush forth in torrents to flow between the hills.
The high hills are for the wild goats; the rocks are a refuge.
Ta’leynah!
Women, let us take the high road together. These are our precious stones. Do not be afraid. Reach up. Take my hand.
Ta’ali . . . al tif’achadi . . . zeh rak anavim. “Go up. Do not be afraid. They are only stones.” The young woman reached for my hand. I ascended the natural bimah at Robinson's Arch.
The Women of the Wall Rosh Chodesh Av morning prayer service began at 7:00 a.m. One-hundred women created a semi-circle in the back of the women’s section at the Western Wall. Our female voices added a sweet soprano sound to the kotel plaza.
Nevertheless, we were under special security. A young policewoman scanned and recorded the proceedings, while another policeman weaved in and out of the crowd, admonishing several young Israeli women to adjust their tallitot: One of our women was detained last month because she wore a masculine type prayer shawl in a “manly” way.
One woman, holding her prayer shawl under her arm, stood on the side.
“Would you like to put on your tallit?”
“No,“ she replied. “I don’t want to be arrested before Shabbat. I wouldn’t get home in time.”
This month, no one was detained. No one was arrested. Sheer serenity.
After reciting Hallel, the special prayers of praise for the new month, we strolled and sang respectfully and reluctantly up to Robinson’s Arch, designed and designated by a decision of the Israeli Supreme Court in 2003 as a place for alternative services. Women can read Torah or wear traditional prayers shawls only there.
When we reached our outdoor sanctuary, we fussed over the presentation of our special possession, the Sefer Torah. Three women read the passages from the Book of Numbers, Chapter 28, directly from the parchment. Another month of grace under fire.
Ta’ali. Al tif’achadi.
Surrounded by this faithful band of fervent followers, I climbed two stone stairs and began Musaf (a special service which honors the additional sacrifice brought to the Temple in ancient times on festival days like Rosh Chodesh). With every bow and blessing, beating drums were heard from the valleys through to the Jerusalem hilltops. The drums provided a tempo for my public chanting of the Amidah.
The sun streamed gold on my head and warmed my body. Reaching into the pocket of my soul’s seam, my voice found a new timbre and attuned itself to this uneven, unorthodox sanctuary where rocks become seats and walls become personal lean-tos.
For 23 years, with the appearance of the new moon, the Women of the Wall have flocked like birds in search of a nesting place that is both holy and historic.
Ten years ago on Rosh Chodesh Kislev, I experienced a spiritual solidarity with Nashot Hakotel (Women of the Wall) for the first time.
Ta’ali. Al tif’achadi.
Now during the second time, I was the vessel for our supplications. Psalm 104 provided the physical landscape for my entreaties. I was in the place where the Psalms were written. The text twittered through me, electrifying my orientation. Looking upward and searching inward, the strong morning sun crowned my insight and voiced my prayerful personal and public vibrations to the Holy One of Blessings.
You make springs gush forth in torrents to flow between the hills.
The high hills are for the wild goats; the rocks are a refuge.
Ta’leynah!
Women, let us take the high road together. These are our precious stones. Do not be afraid. Reach up. Take my hand.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Acquiring Faith
How do we acquire faith? Is it a learned behavior from a parent or grandparent? Is it a discovery found in books and lectures? Or do we meet faith at the crossroads of a difficult dilemma? Do we abandon faith when we ourselves feel abandoned?
I believe is more than a statement of faith. It is my daily mantra that plays on several wave
lengths in my mind and on my heart. I practice believing. I acquire faith.
I am in Jerusalem working for The Women of the Wall. This Friday morning, July 20, at 7:00 a.m. I will be praying with other women at the Kotel (The Western Wall) as the new Hebrew month of Av is ushered in with special prayers. Please go to the organization's website to understand the religious freedom implications of this issue in Israel. I will report on her experience in next week’s spiritual letter.
I believe is more than a statement of faith. It is my daily mantra that plays on several wave
lengths in my mind and on my heart. I practice believing. I acquire faith.
I am in Jerusalem working for The Women of the Wall. This Friday morning, July 20, at 7:00 a.m. I will be praying with other women at the Kotel (The Western Wall) as the new Hebrew month of Av is ushered in with special prayers. Please go to the organization's website to understand the religious freedom implications of this issue in Israel. I will report on her experience in next week’s spiritual letter.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Jerusalem in the Sun
For with You is the fountain of life; in Your Light, we see Light. Psalm 36
No matter how early I arise, the sun is always waiting for me. With hat and sunglasses, I prepare my body for my 15-minute daily walk to the Hartman Institute. I walk past a playground, an elementary school and a small garden where the roosters call me to the morning’s glory. The streets are narrow and centuries old; the landscape is open and surprisingly contemporary.
I am in Jerusalem where the ever-present sun illuminates my spiritual path.
No matter how early I arise, the sun is always waiting for me. With hat and sunglasses, I prepare my body for my 15-minute daily walk to the Hartman Institute. I walk past a playground, an elementary school and a small garden where the roosters call me to the morning’s glory. The streets are narrow and centuries old; the landscape is open and surprisingly contemporary.
I am in Jerusalem where the ever-present sun illuminates my spiritual path.
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