Trying to fathom Jewish calendar's rhythm
Posted Online: July 16, 2010, 12:00 am
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The Jewish calendar has a rhythm to it: peaks and valleys, ebb and flow.
Certain times of the year call for particular emotional responses, as though we have control over how we feel at any given moment.
Some people argue that we do have the ability to influence our emotions. They say that happiness, for example, is a choice.
On Sukkot we are commanded, literally, by the Torah, to be happy, to rejoice.
Likewise on Purim, we are supposed to feel a sense of joy.
Yet, these holidays fall at the beginning and end of the rainy season in Israel; or for those of us living in climates with four seasons, they fall at a time of year that tends to be gloomy.
For anyone who has ever experienced Seasonal Affective Disorder, or even a mild case of winter blues, it might seem unfair to ask us to simply perk up and feel joy.
At this time of year, in the middle of the summer, with the sunny weather and its effect on our serotonin levels, the Jewish calendar asks us to mourn.
We are currently in the midst of a three-week period of mourning leading up to Tisha B'Av (the 9th of the Hebrew month Av) , the date on which both the first and second Temples in Jerusalem were destroyed.
This also is shorthand for a much larger Jewish tragedy -- the exile from Jerusalem.
The concept of exile feels a bit foreign to me. As a liberal Jew who celebrates the existence of the modern state of Israel, it even feels a bit dishonest.
I'm not technically exiled from Jerusalem. I was there last year at this time.
It sounds preposterous, until I think of those moments when I have had precisely that feeling. To some degree I still experience a sense of exile when I'm standing in front of the Western Wall.
Compounding the sense of sadness around the destruction of the Temple is the notion that because of our baseless hatred for each other and our inability to exist harmoniously as a people, we actually exiled G-d from our world.
This contradicts my personal conception of G-d.
I believe G-d is everywhere. I believe G-d is imminent. I don't think that it's possible for G-d to be separate from us.
Still, we have a feeling of longing. It's about the way you can miss someone even though they are right there with you.
We long for more presence.
We long to have G-d dwell in our midst in the way that we imagine it happening at the time of the Temple.
We long for more connection, more revelation, more communication, more, more.
It's not easy to conjure deep sadness when we feel happy or muster pure joy when we're feeling down.
However, we know well the feeling of laughter through tears or longing for someone or something that is right in front of us.
As I begin to prepare for the fast of Tisha B'Av, I can relate to that feeling of longing despite appreciating what I have and how good things are for Jews today.
I may not be waiting for Maschiach (the Messiah) in the literal sense, but I long for more.
I long for a world where G-d's presence not only dwells, but permeates, and fills up the world so much that suffering and pain cease to creep into even the happy moments.
The ebb and flow of the Jewish calendar provides for the complexity of emotional responses we may have at any given time, under any circumstances.
It asks us to feel joy even if we are sad, so that we learn to cope and persevere through difficult times.
It asks us to remember tragedies when everything seems perfect, so that we do not become complacent.
It challenges us to see things differently, even if just for a moment, to consider the opposite perspective -- and there always is one.
Rabbi Tamar Grimm is the new leader at the Tri City Jewish Center in Rock Island, and among a group of guests columnists for Faith & Values
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Rabbi Tamar’s moving article in the Rock Island Argus on 17 JUL 10 expresses the power of the sacred year to instruct, commemorate, and unite us. I was struck by the contrast with my normal associations.
ReplyDeleteAt work, I often have to compare the calendars of ten or more people to arrange a meeting. Everyone today is obsessed with calendars but unfortunately last month’s schedule is a meaningless ledger. With so many news stories, insignificant awards, and fictional dramas demanding emotional response the idea of a sacred year has been profaned.
What do we learn from having the Oscars or the super bowl every year?
In the article Rabbi also illustrated that how we feel may differ from the nature of the holiday. Not doing so is exactly why our society only celebrates and honors what makes it feel good. This has lead to the superficial nature of our commemorations and holidays in secular life. Further, if we do not honor the feelings of others (the lamentation of those who lost their way of life in the destruction of the temple to cite her example) our feelings will not be relevant. Moreover, we deny the G*d of history and fail to grow from our tribulations and mistakes.
In that respect we don’t know ourselves any longer. Sour as these thoughts were, hard as life is, we must look for truth in it and resist shallow idealism.
Rabbi Tamar’s article also discussed the concept of tradition verses present realities. This is an issue constantly challenging to people of faith. Her example was the commemoration of the exile in light of Israel existing as a modern state. This she compared to our ‘longing for presence’ and a desire to have “G-d dwell in our midst in the way that we imagine it happening at the time of the Temple. “
Perhaps this idea which she uses the word ‘immanent’ for is also transcendent of the specific events we celebrate. Through directing our thoughts, feelings, and actions to them however we defy the separation between on another, between ourselves and our ancestors, and in doing so approach the eternal and unlimited presence.