Vulnerability

Temple Israel High Holy Days > Blog > Vulnerability
Bathing: The Mikvah
 Poem written by Em Meuller, used with permission from the author For my sixtieth birthday I submerged myself in rain water gathered in barrels, pumped through tubes to a pool in a room built with Jerusalem stone and lights quiet as candles. Life exists in the preparation: clean under your nails — toes and fingers, a Q-tip for your ears, belly button; tooth brush taken from an unwrapped box; wash your hair, body. Cleansed, wrap yourself in a towel large as a bed sheet and step into the holy space where water transforms you into blessing.
What the skin hungers for
Poem written by Ellen Steinbaum, used with permission from the author The heartfelt handshake, yes, or hug of course, but maybe even more what would have passed unnoticed then: the slight encountering of edges as we leaned into one another on subway seats enlarged in winter by layers of sweaters, coats and, through our clothes, the stranger’s arm was simple presence only, hardly felt, the way in narrow theater seats, a sleeve to sleeve or even briefest brush of flesh to flesh occurred below the level of intrusion, leaving now only a vague insistent drone: the aching touch of what is absent.
Ever Since
Poem written by Ellen Steinbaum, used with permission from the author now in the fragile time between the thunder claps in the time after the sky split open and solidness dissolved the fire continues to leave no one unscorched shelter collapses again and again around us the acrid dust preserves us perfect as Pompeii gentle with each other liable to break we must sort through what is left to us sift the rubble for what we have lost
The Sacrament of Soup
Poem written by Ellen Steinbaum, used with permission from the author This is what you do when the call comes: take the largest pot from the shelf pour in water chop and scrape chop and scrape carrots turnips anything you have any amount add without measuring lentils split peas marrow bone anything you have any amount. Set it over fire. This is what you do: take the largest pot from the shelf let your hands begin the work let the fire begin the work watch the incantation of bubbles rising again and again fire water scrape chop anything you have again and again. This is all you can do.
Hagar in the Wilderness

Year: 1835

Artist: Camille Corot

Here, we find the haunting biblical image of Hagar and her son, Ishmael, crying out to God from the wilderness. The urgency, distress, and desperation are palpable. We may not be pleading in the wilderness but, like Hagar, we find ourselves, at this season, exposed and in need of help. The stakes are high and we are vulnerable.

Untaneh Tokef

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Untaneh Tokef is perhaps the most haunting piece of Jewish liturgy. The words break down all of our illusions and strip us bare. We recognize the truth that life is far more fragile than we like to believe. We do not know who will live and who will die, but we recognize our own vulnerability and our own mortality.

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The Human Condition

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Reflection from Rabbi Jen Gubitz on the words of Unataneh Tokef.
 
 

 

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Mishkan HaNefesh: Vulnerability

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Mishkan HaNefesh, Yom Kippur p. 209

This year of all years, we are acutely aware that we are vulnerable. The language of the High Holy Days may come from another era, but the message rings as true as ever. Whether we admit it or not, we walk through our lives exposed and susceptible. The call to "take hold of your life" is here and it is urgent.

 

 

Today we call it by its rightful name:
A Day of Dread - nora v'ayom.
Unwelcome visitor, for we want to live
in a sunny world where God is love
and all endings are happy.

But the drumbeat sounds
and the words tumble down
and even the angels tremble with fear.
For all things are judged
and all things will pass
and life ends in a heartbeat,
and death knows our name.

At the start of the year,
in the season of truth,
comes the Day of Remembrance
for all we forget
and all we deny;
and we fall on our knees
in the depths of our hearts
for we know that the bell tolls
for us.

The words are old and the language was theirs,
but the call is real and the message is ours:
Take hold of your life
while you still have the chance;
for your story will end
and it might be this year
in a way you don't know.
Take hold of your life:
make things right while you can;
and don't miss the call of the Day of Dread.

Excerpts from Mishkan HaNefesh: Machzor for the Days of Awe © 2015 are under the copyright protection of the Central Conference of American Rabbis and used by permission of the CCAR. All rights reserved.

 

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Who Am I?

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Exodus 3:11-12

But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and free the Israelites from Egypt?”

And God said, “I will be with you; that shall be your sign that it was I who sent you. And when you have freed the people from Egypt, you shall worship God at this mountain.”

 

וַיֹּאמֶר מֹשֶׁה אֶל־הָאֱלֹהִים מִי אָנֹכִי כִּי אֵלֵךְ אֶל־פַּרְעֹה וְכִי אוֹצִיא אֶת־בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל מִמִּצְרָיִם׃

וַיֹּאמֶר כִּי־אֶהְיֶה עִמָּךְ וְזֶה־לְּךָ הָאוֹת כִּי אָנֹכִי שְׁלַחְתִּיךָ בְּהוֹצִיאֲךָ אֶת־הָעָם מִמִּצְרַיִם תַּעַבְדוּן אֶת־הָאֱלֹהִים עַל הָהָר הַזֶּה

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Here Moses introduces us to the concept of the reluctant prophet. In the initial moments of his Divine call to action, he feels uncertain and unworthy of the mission asked of him by God. In his unwillingness to act, Moses expresses a vulnerability rooted in the errors of his past which cloud his self-confidence. But in his greatest moment of self-doubt, Moses is reassured that God will support him and all of B’nei Yisrael throughout their journey from bondage to freedom.

 

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