For my family, like many Jewish families, holidays play an important role in our life. Holidays are the times when we all get together. There are endless, crazy traditions. Holidays meant coming home, and being with my family.
I grew up in Florida, and went to college in Florida. When my parents moved from Florida to Texas, I suddenly had a to plan on a plane ride instead of a two-hour drive to be with my family for the holidays. Then I graduated from college and started a real job, forcing me to face the reality of not spending every holiday with my family. Being “home for the holidays” was no longer a given.
I certainly am not alone. Every recent college graduate balances making it home for celebrations with our families to what our “grown up life” and holiday celebrations will look like. Luckily, with my first out-of-college job, I literally am not alone.
When I moved to Jackson to start work for the ISJL, I knew that I was joining a new family. My Education Fellow cohort has family dinners together. We look out for each other. We bring each other pints of ice cream with a Shabbat candle for birthdays, squeal over the sweet story of a fellow Fellow’s engagement, and make sure that everyone has a family with whom to spend the holidays. We celebrate together. And yes, we have even and taken family portraits at JC Penney together.
This year in particular, I have been truly blessed in the holiday-celebration regard. One of our board members invited anyone who was in town to spend all or part of the High Holy days with her family in Greenwood, Mississippi. Even though I wasn’t able to spend Yom Kippur with my family, another family opened its arms to welcome me in. I fasted, watched football, and broke fast with M&Ms and Diet Coke—just as I would have done with my family of origin.
As Education Fellows, this happens to us all year round. We each have six or seven communities that we visit and, with the gift of home hospitality, we are lucky to be welcomed into many families throughout our two years. We light the candles at Shabbat dinners in these families’ homes, and hear about how everybody’s week has been. They allow us to truly be part of the family and the greater community; in addition to celebrating many Jewish holidays, I have also cheered at soccer games (even though I don’t entirely remember the rules), attended local craft and historical festivals, and participated in a charity fundraiser.
Other Fellows have enjoyed family movie nights, gone on afternoon hikes, and visited kids’ art shows; there’s no end to the possibilities!
Not only do our hosts welcome us into their families for the weekend, but we also share our lives with them. We tell stories about the shenanigans and adventures of group summer visits. Especially as second year Fellows, we want to contact our hosts or education directors when exciting things develop for graduate school or plans for Life After The Fellowship.
I still love getting to be with my family. I also love how much more “family” I have now. When I first started at the ISJL in June 2013, I added 8 Fellows to my family. Over the last 18 months, that family has grown exponentially with every summer, fall, and spring visit I make. Not every recent college graduate gets so warmly embraced by so many families, who make us feel at home even when we’re far from home. I look forward to continuing growing my Southern Jewish family this year, and staying in touch as the world takes us in all different directions.
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I have always derived great pleasure from personal prayer during worship services. Spirituality is core to my identity; the journey of our Shabbat and holiday liturgy is familiar to me and comforting to me. It is my time, which might sound selfish—and I had not realized just how dependent on that selfish time I had become, until recently when I became a Jewish professional.
Last year, in addition to my work with the Goldring/Woldenberg Institute of Southern Jewish Life, I accepted the position of Educator at my home synagogue in New Orleans. Along with this amazing dream of a job comes the awesome responsibility of teaching others how to involve themselves in worship. One way we do this is by teaching the liturgy in Hebrew classes and prayer services; another, for me, is by setting the example of being sincere in my own prayer.
The irony? Sincerity in my own prayer has never been an issue—until now, when I am on “display.”
Trying to strike a balance between teaching, leading, and praying is not an easy task! During the High Holidays last year, I was so very busy trying to keep up and catch up with all of my responsibilities that frankly I did not even attempt very much personal prayer. This year, by contrast, I was totally prepared, and had all of my projects for families and children set up in advance… in an effort to set the stage for my own prayer space once again.
I still wasn’t back to my usual spiritual self. Even with all of the preparation, the holiday experience was still just off-and-on successful. I feared a return to truly meaningful prayer while “on display” might be a lost cause for me, until a good friend and cantorial soloist pointed out something really simple and profound:
My personal prayer and spirituality can be every bit as sincere and meaningful as it once was, if I accept that it will never be the same as it once was.
My cantorial soloist friend taught me that now, my greatest spiritual moments were to be focused on enhancing the worship experience of the congregation. This is where she derives her Shabbat and High Holiday holiness, outside of herself. And this is where I am now learning to do the same thing. Part of this experience is not taking myself so seriously! I began to see the insanity in what I was trying to do, and it made me laugh at my own self, and simply relax and let it be.
With this new role, I also appreciate new elements of prayer. I still, and always will, value my private prayer moments, too. But when I see a kid have an “aha” moment connecting the dots in our liturgy, or lead a prayer with confidence, or an adult catches my eye during a sermon because he or she remembers that we discussed a similar point, or I notice someone following along in the Hebrew because I helped them learn how to do that, these will now be my personal worship experience focus!
What has been your journey as a lay person or a Jewish professional in personal prayer? How is it different as you have aged, grown or changed roles?
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My sister, Chanie, and my new brother-in-law, Joel, got married this month. I’m very fortunate to have incredible co-workers who are happy to see pictures of the very special occasion and hear all about the event itself—and of course, I’m also happy to share one of the beautiful pictures here, because that’s what proud sisters do!
But I also want to share with you a thought I had before the wedding—a thought that extended from marriage to the larger community, and also seemed particularly appropriate at this time on the Jewish calendar.
I had the honor of sharing a reading under the chuppah. As I looked at books of readings for weddings, poems, websites with readings and other sources, I came across this reading. I didn’t end up reading it to the happy couple under the chuppah, but it spoke to me.
“Until we can receive with an open heart, we’re never really giving with an open heart. When we attach judgment to receiving help, we knowingly or unknowingly attach judgment to giving help.”—Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are
This line is meant to describe the giving and receiving that takes place between partners. In many ways, however, it articulates my feelings about service. There is so much judgment associated with receiving help. Too often, even well -intentioned givers, engaged in the generous act of offering help, make judgments about the people receiving our assistance.
We may find ourselves judging others for “allowing” themselves to get into this situation. We might feel saddened by their vulnerability, their need—or willingness—to rely on others. We may even use those in need to make us feel better about ourselves: hey, at least we are not in their position.
Judgments of these kinds really impede on our ability to give lovingly and completely. Giving with judgment is still giving, and it is better than not giving at all. When someone is hungry, food is essential. Food without judgment is like getting icing on the cake.
But that is not the type of giving and receiving that a couple strives for in a marriage. Nor should it be the giving we strive for as we serve our communities. Rather, community offers us a lot sometimes, without us asking for it. And by receiving the joy given to us by our communities, we can truly give to people who rely on the greater community for things like food, shelter, and so on, without judging them or their situation.
While I have given thought to the relationship between those who conduct and those who receive the benefits of service (a problematic construct), thinking about it in the context of a marriage—particularly the marriage of two people who truly give to each other and the world with all their hearts—gives me a unique appreciation for the special bond that unites us as people who are constantly giving and receiving.
During this time in the Jewish calendar when Jews ask for a lot—forgiveness, health, a sweet new year–let us also ask for the ability to gracefully receive all we are given this year as well as the ability to give gracefully, without negative judgment of those who receive our help.