Elul Group, 2009

This Dvar Torah was written as part of a group that says Tehillim/Psalms together during the month of Elul (through Yom Kippur).

First off, I would like to say how proud and honored I am to be part of this outstanding group of women. Not only are the Divrei Torah inspirational, but it means so much to me to be able to be able to maintain my connection to so many Passaicers and former Passaicers this way.

Second of all, I would like to ask mechila from the entire group. I tried to say Tehillim everyday, but I must be honest that there were many times that I missed. (Ruthie very wisely placed me on the same day with another woman for Tehillim.)

Warning, the following is long. Actually, the following are two separate items that I wrote sitting here tonight. The second one is a little more personal, perhaps less inspirational to others, but I decided to attach it as an optional read in case it adds meaning to anyone elses’ life.

#1
Another year has come and gone. As with all years, we have had months of choices made, opportunities taken and opportunities missed. No one goes through a year without regrets...but it is what we do with our regrets that truly energizes the time of year known as the Yomim No’araim, the Days of Awe.

As we rest on the edge of another Yom Kippur, I look back and see the past with an all too honest eye. Where have I gotten to?

I remember my first Yom Kippur in an Orthodox shul. I was at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, 20 years old on my Junior year abroad. I had recently found my niche with a group of other students who were searching and moving and slowly becoming frum. Since I did not live on a "religious floor," I chose to stay with a friend in her dorm room. I don’t remember much of the details, but I remember we set an alarm and rose early enough to be in shul at the very beginning–and stayed there the entire day, without tiring. It was....wonderful. I felt so geshmacht. I had connected to something wonderful and powerful.

That was 15 years ago. Since then I became fully frum, graduated college and grad school, spent a year in seminary, lost my father (obm), dated, gotten married, had three children and am currently gestating #4. I’ve lived in Maryland, Jerusalem, Brooklyn, Passaic, Portland (Oregon) and now Montreal...and no experience has equaled the spiritual elation I felt that first Yom Kippur.

The first year that I had a child, I fought against the idea of not going to shul on Yom Kippur. How could I connect without the spiritual umph of the davening in shul? That year, at least, he let me daven. The next year, then a toddler, my son walked over and closed my machzor so I would stop and play with him.

My son is now 5, so its been a while since I’ve been to shul on Yom Kippur, and it’s something that I have come to terms with. I am not going into the Yom Tov expecting to daven, because then I would be angry with myself and, chas v’shalom, with my kids, if I didn’t get to. If I do get the opportunity, I will see it as a gift.

What I am taking with me into Yom Kippur this year is more humility. In the midst of a difficult time this year, someone handed me a book of stories to read. They were the usual inspirational, wow that really happened to someone (and why doesn’t any clear message like that happen to me) type of stories. But one of them hit home the message that sometimes we need to daven to Hashem to help us to daven. Sometimes, far more times than most people are willing to admit, we need to throw up our troubles and tell God that we are leaving it up to Him, really and truly. I did that, and I did it about a complex issue of bitachon and emunah, and truly did feel a sense of peace as I have not before experienced.

Writing this brought to mind a line from Avinue Malkeinu that my son has been singing over and over (although my husband and I didn’t realize this was what he was singing because his rebbe is chasidish and he was singing Uvaynee Malkaynee instead of Avinu Malkeinu!) Avinu Malkeinu patach Shaa’rei shamayim l’tifilateinue: Our Father, Our King, open the gates of heaven to our prayers.

Not just the gates of prayers or the gates of tears, but the wider gates of heaven themselves. Let me just get my foot in the door to begin the process of teshuva, let my prayers enter even the first courtyard of the heavenly court!

When we come into the Yamim No’arayim, we need to come in humble and yet prepared to ask for the grandest of gifts-teshuva itself. (The ability to do teshuva, the willingness of Hashem to accept our atonement, is immense!)

Wishing each and everyone of you a successful, meaningful and inspirational Yom Kippur.

#2
From the very beginning, I wanted to talk about Psalm 27 for my Dvar Torah. This is the one we add to davening twice a day from the beginning of Elul through Hoshana Rabba.

Before I get to Psalm 27, however, a diversion. Today I did something I haven’t had the time or energy to do of late, I went to the local women’s Shabbas shiur (with Rebbetzin Wenger for anyone familiar with the Montreal community). During the shiur, Rebbitzen Wenger discussed the following passage from I Melachim 19 (11-13):

...And, behold, Hashem passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and broke in pieces the rocks before Hashem; but Hashem was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake; but Hashem was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire; but Hashem was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice. And it was so, when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle, and went out, and stood in the entrance of the cave. And, behold, there came a voice unto him, and said: ‘Why are you here, Elijah?’"

Rebbitzen Wenger pointed out that our chance to connect with the "still small voice" is during Vidui on Yom Kippur. Even among a crowd of worshipers (or a whirlwind of children), Vidui is a time for us to be alone with Hashem and to really talk to Him about the teshuva that we need to do.

It is in the time of this conversation that, in my head and heart, I would wish to scream out: Achat sha’alti ma’et Hashem, otah avakesh shivti b’vait Hashem kol yimei chayah lchazot b’noam Hashem u’lvaker b’haychalo (One thing have I asked of Hashem, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of Hashem all the days of my life, to behold the graciousness of Hashem, and to visit early in His temple. - Psalm 27:4).

And yet, somehow I never do. Why? This is my truest prayer...what does it mean, to me, to dwell in the house of Hashem, to behold the graciousness of Hashem? To me it means the comfort and security in a relationship–you know, that sense of ease when one is able to come into the house as if part of the family. And God is our ultimate Father, so it should be natural and easy to create that relationship. But for me, it is not.

Today I had a glimpse into one of the reasons that it is not. It all has to do with that "still small voice."

For many, many years, in different situations, people have been telling me not to "think so much." (For those of you who remember what I was like while dating David!!!) My response was always: "If I knew where the off-button was, I would!" You see, what I have learned in my lifetime thus far is that I am uncomfortable with silence, with being alone or even with finding inner-peace. (As David once said after I got a clean bill of health on something I was worried about–ok, now to find the next thing for you to worry about!) I do not believe that I am the only one who suffers from this unconscious fear, but I am aware of how it effects me.
Without silence within, how can I hear the still small voice? If I am busy looking for Hashem in the wind and the earthquake and the fire, I am blinded to all the nissim that are actually occurring silently within my life. In a busy life, it is hard to "stop and smell the roses," but if you don’t "stop to smell the roses" you won’t notice all the wonders of the world.

Tonight is erev Yom Kippur. I won’t be at shul this Yom Tov, and I can’t even guarantee that I will be able to say more than basic Shacharit. I will be looking after my wind, earthquake and fire (Avi, Shevi and Leah...all miracles of their own). But, please God, this year I will try to follow my heart’s lead and let Hashem know that I want to reach a place to hear that "still small voice," but I need His help to get there.

May each of you have a meaningful, inspiring Yom Kippur, and may we all soon gather to dwell in the house of Hashem and to visit His Temple.
 

Search Me!

When I was a small child, I was delighted when my school gave each of us a paper bag containing a feather, a candle and a wooden spoon. With these implements, we were armed to go home and help our parents search for chametz - only my parents didn’t. Along with the majority of children who attended the Jewish day school in our small community, I did not come from a home that actively practiced Jewish observance. We had no Shabbat dinners, we had no hesitations about ordering ‘pork lo mein’ at the local Chinese restaurant, and we certainly didn’t clean every nook and cranny of our house in preparation for Pesach.

Obviously, we were proud to be Jewish--after all, my parents had chosen to send their two children to the local Jewish day school. My mother was even a member of our synagogue a capella choir that sang at Friday night services. We were somewhat observant of the “major” Jewish holidays such as Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur, Chanukah and Pesach. We were aware of Sukkot and Purim and Shavuot, but not much more.

In my house, the idea of “turning over the kitchen” (as many say euphemistically to describe making the house kosher for Passover) was nonexistent. Looking back, I recall putting all of what we thought might be chametz into one cabinet and taping it closed, but we certainly didn’t search out bread crumbs and cookie pieces under the couch. So each year, my little paper bag with its white candle, wooden spoon and soft feather was put on the table and, eventually, thrown out unused.

It was in college that I became more observant, and, for several years after, I was a bit of a transient. I lived with family or friends, so I didn’t actually own a place to clean. More importantly, I always made plans for the entire week of the holiday so that I would not have to return to my abode, and therefore could simply sell my chametzy space.

Learning to clean for Pesach was something of a rite of passage --but one I was gently eased into. The first apartment that I was required to clean was one I shared with two other women. In the four years or so that we shared that apartment we developed a ritual of sorts. Each of us was responsible for her own room, but one Sunday close to Pesach was designated as group-cleaning-day during which we would divide up the kitchen. Our camaraderie made the work fun, and, at the end of the day, we rewarded ourselves with dinner at a local burger joint.

Now that I am the mother of three small children, I don’t expect the Pesach cleaning to be the work of camaraderie. My husband and I will most likely have to divide and conquer. His job will be to remove the children from the house. (Did I mention that my toddler has a fondness for sliced bread and could give Hansel and Gretel a run for their money on bread crumb trails?)

Let me take a moment to explain that I believe that some people are born with a predisposition to cleaning. They actually enjoy finding and destroying dirt. And I hope and pray to G-d that some of my children will soon feel this way, so I can off-load some cleaning on them!

I have never liked to clean, and at this point in my life I don’t expect that to change. But there is something different about Pesach cleaning. I feel a tremor in my heart when people start talking about Pesach cleaning, and surprisingly, it isn’t a tremor of fear!

The Jewish calendar is full of opportunities for one to start over. Rosh Hashana, the New Year, is a time of repentance. Purim is compared by the sages to Yom Kippur, as an opportunity for atonement, etc. Of course at those times I try to do Teshuva (repentance) and to inspire myself to be a better person in all ways. But, like cleaning, metaphysical soul-searching has never been one of my strengths--I am, without a doubt, a down-to-earth, pragmatic type of person who wants to do something.

Pesach cleaning gives me something to do to prepare. It gives me an activity through which to channel my spiritually focused mental energy.

The Passover cleaning is analogous to giving one’s self a thorough check-up. We check in every drawer, move the dresser to seek out crumbs, thumb through the well-used books and even rifle through coat pockets, just in case there are any tucked away bits of pretzels, cookies or even bread. And as we do these seemingly humdrum activities, we can think about how we have acted during the year, the tzedakah (charity) we did or did not give, the mitzvot that we might have overlooked. And, we look for these things not with the intention of beating ourselves up, but in order to make ourselves better.

Sounds good, doesn’t it? Sounds like I’m a real saint! Hardly. While I do look forward to this process of spiritual improvement, I still dislike the physical act of cleaning. Therefore, I have decided to take proactive steps that can help me on my cleaning mission.

1) To overcome laziness! Laziness, atzlanut, is so tempting at this time of year. It is so easy to just assume that no Cheerios could possibly have been overlooked in the living room...but then I recall the story I heard of a family discovering a child’s secret Cheerios stash when they turned on the air conditioner and the Cheerios came flying out!

2) To focus on Teshuva (repentance) and doing more to build my relationship with G-d. The Haggadah instructs us to have in mind that we too were redeemed from Egypt. At the time of their redemption, the Midrash explains, the spiritual level of the Children of Israel was less than stellar, but they cried out to G-d and He heard their cry. I too need to learn to cry out as they did, so that in the harried hustle and bustle I will remember who really runs the world.

3) To fight against my tendency toward anger. Anger is a symptom of arrogance, of thinking one is absolutely right without giving anyone else a chance to be judged favorably for their actions. In fact, Maimonides equates anger with idol worship because a person assumes that they know what should have been, even better than G-d does. At this time of year, with so much pressure to get everything done, it is hard to remain calm--especially when I find a three year old child sitting in a room that was just cleaned, innocently eating pretzels from a bag held slightly askew.

This year my children will bring home their own paper bags with a wooden spoon, a candle, and a feather. And perhaps I will look at that wooden spoon and think with joy of all the pleasure that others will savor from the delicious foods I will cook. And perhaps that candle will remind me that my own Pintele Yid (Jewish spark within) needs to be allowed to shine. And perhaps I will use that feather to tickle my children so that their laughter echoes through the house instead of the stern sounds of rebuke. This year, that bag will not go unused.

(Oh yes, the paper bag will be for me to use when hyperventilating when I think about the work I have yet to do!)

Grade 7 Moms

Dear Grade 7 mothers, 


A big thank you to all who were able to attend our meeting, as well as to those who couldn’t make it but expressed their interest before and after. It was proof once again that we all truly share the common goal of helping our daughters navigate this technological age in a healthy and Torah true way. 


Here is a summary of the comments and suggestions from the meeting and those who sent in their views. If anyone would like to add comments and/or suggestions before an official draft of an agreement is written and sent out, please feel free to reply to this email address before Thursday, February 28. Please note that our goal is to work toward a common consensus among the whole grade and every opinion is welcome and wanted. (The notes below reflect the opinions only of those mothers in attendance at the meeting this past Tuesday.)

1. There was a general consensus that we felt that it was a priority to respect each of the families’ differences and that the best way to do so is by hearing permission from the girl’s parents before allowing them access to any device in your home. (Use of any device requires the permission of both the parents of the home and of the guest.)

2. There was a general agreement that there is no reason for an internet capable device to be turned on in school, whether during school hours or during an extra-curricular activity. To this end, it was felt that it would be beneficial to suggest to the school that they could provide better access for the girls to a telephone in order to call home after hours.

3. It was agreed by all present that there was no need for there to be any form of social media chats among classmates, with a separate discussion on whether this included one on one or only group chats. Beyond the other dangers of online chat groups, those girls who are not connected will end up left out, which is not the sense of achdus and ahavas Yisrael that we hope to generate among our girls.


4. Along with parental oversight, there was a discussion of the importance of filters and parental controls on all home and personal devices. Mothers were reminded by those with more technical knowledge that the password on a router can and must be changed from the one that is printed on the router itself, that other children (and our own) can bring in devices that can be connected to your wifi if it does not have a secure password, and that all devices should have at minimum a password for access.


5. A separate, tangential discussion was offered concerning music and permitting non-Jewish(/secular) music at school. This again is an issue of respecting the boundaries of other families rather than prohibiting this type of music.


6. A general conversation was held about helping to teach our girls about respecting themselves and respecting others and about not judging or pressuring others who do or do not use technology.


7. It was agreed that no seventh grade student should have a personal social media account on any platform. 


This meeting was part of a larger initiative known as M.U.S.T., Mothers United to Stall Technology. While recognizing and accepting that many of our children already have some access to internet enabled electronics, the goal of this program is to slow down exposure and provide a responsible environment for the entire class.


If you have any comments or suggestions, please reply to this email no later than Thursday, February 28. The above, along with the comments received, will be used to create a class protocol that will be distributed to all lass parents. It will be requested that parents sign and return the protocols, so each families’ independent voice and opinion is very important. The protocols will be set for this school year and open for revision in Grade Eight.


Sincerely, Sarah Rochel Hewitt


P.S. Mrs. Cipi Schechter asked me to include a note that she will be giving a technology tutorial presentation on Tuesday, February 26, at 12:30 at the home of Sarala Schondorf.