Season of joy
Sep. 19th, 2013 01:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
livLast night I found a state of joyful connectedness or openness that I'm inclined to classify as religious feeling, though if it is I probably shouldn't annoy people by babbling about it in my journal. I think some of it is the religious season, and some is being connected to my community, and those are a lens which is influencing how I respond to some other things.
I was relaxing over a good meal. I'm building up a small and occasional habit of eating out alone, because sometimes I don't have time and energy for either cooking or seeking out company and sometimes I would rather have less money and better food. Many other times I'll just eat takeaways or ready meals, mind you, but that doesn't have to be a universal rule, if I'm willing to cultivate a certain mindset that suits sitting in restaurants on my own. Part of that mindset is enjoying pleasure for its own sake, which I think helped to contribute to this precise mood.
I was reading the internet on my phone and pondering people's excellent words, feeling connected to my diverse, scattered online community. There was a post ofkaberett's that made me think about what it means to be a scientist and about art and poetry and continued some really heartening discussion we've been having recently.
It was a fine, clear autumn evening; autumn is always a good season for me emotionally, particularly when it's cool and sunny rather than wet and miserable. I'd walked a little way to the restaurant, half a mile or so my face was flushed from mild exercise in cool evening air. That was because I'd accepted a lift from a member of the community after the service earlier in the evening. I am slightly annoyed that people won't let me walk home alone after dark, it's less than ten minutes from the synagogue to my front door and most of that straight through the well-lit, always-active hospital. And anyway I like walking and I refuse to be restricted by sexist expectations disguised as safety advice. But I'm also touched and feel loved that people are concerned about me, and they expressed their concern in a very gentle, friendly way. It would in fact have been quicker for me to walk from the synagogue to the restaurant than to get a lift home and walk from there, but hey.
I'd been in synagogue for the start of Succot, which is "Tabernacles" in English if that means anything to you. One of its epithets is "the season of our joy", it's a harvest festival originally, though we're a long way from the agricultural origins of that now. Running the opening service for Succot was not quite the last of my very intense load of liturgical obligations for this month, but it comes after the really difficult ones and I feel I'm on the home stretch once I've launched it. An Israeli with a connection to the community I didn't quite gather had brought us a self-assemble lulav from Israel, and I put it together so that my hands smelled of etrog (citron) all through the evening. We went into our not terribly kosher, practically falling over it's so ramshackle succah to carry out the commandment of taking lulav, and everybody was having fun, laughing at the strangeness of waving a bunch of different leaves and an oversized knobbly lemon around, and at the sorry state of the succah which was never very solid in the first place and had suffered badly from a few days of autumn storms.
The reason for the sorry state of the succah was that we built it Sunday afternoon in completely atrocious weather. Only a couple of parents were brave enough to bring their kids to an outdoor event in those sorts of conditions. The children who were there had a marvellous time, running about in the grassy area behind the cemetery, gathering extremely sodden sticks and branches and flowers and berries and getting soaked to the skin and filthy themselves. Tying up some fruits most precariously with string, needing to retreat indoors to dry off before they'd had time to really make the succah beautiful or check its construction.
Sometimes people complain that Succot is too close to Yom Kippur, and I know I sometimes join in; it is a lot of religious stuff to organize in a very short space of time. But somehow it felt really right this year, to spend Saturday in serious prayer and contemplation, and then Sunday building a ridiculous den in the middle of a major rainstorm. As if we'd come out of the Day of Atonement clean and renewed and innocent, put aside our spiritual anxieties and reconvened in a totally playful mode.
The service itself had gone reasonably well, enough that I felt satisfied that I'd done the right thing by my community and provided at least some aspects of the experience they were looking for. I got the timing right, people seemed attentive and interested throughout the day, it felt that we were journeying very much as a fellowship through the whole gamut of emotional states evoked. Practically the only tunes that everybody knows are two sung texts with fairly depressing words,
Part of the reason that YK wasn't brilliant was that I hadn't had as much time to prepare as I'd like, having come straight back from my holiday the day before Rosh haShana. But the liturgy and some of the texts are so powerful in its own right that it speaks to people even if it's implemented imperfectly. Actually there was a moment in the RH additional service where everything came together really well, in spite of my slight under-preparedness. When I read the prayer
Another part of why I was under-prepared was that my parents decided to come up for YK to support me in my efforts, which was really very thoughtful of them and made me feel very much loved. It did also mean that I couldn't do what I sometimes resort to, and skimp on the housework during the Ten Days in order to allow myself more time to work on the services. It's also true that having a clean, tidy house is good for my mood! In the end Mum and Granny couldn't make the trip after all, so Dad came on his own, and we had a completely excellent time together during the parts of the weekend that weren't taken up by services, chatting and telling stories from our respective professional histories.
There are some positives to not using the whole of Elul to work on the liturgy until it becomes worn with repetition. And even to not using that time for self-examination and feeling guilty and regretful. I came to the services really fresh, enough that some of the words even managed to surprise me and catch my attention anew. I let go of any worry that I hadn't sufficiently completed the official process of repentance, I just knew I hadn't and was therefore in a mindset of simply asking for forgiveness as sincerely as I could. In a way I was focused on God more than on myself. Yes, it would be nice if I'd sorted out every interpersonal awkwardness and come up with strategies to address every bad habit in my life ahead of the Days of Awe. There is something to be said for acceptance instead of striving, though.
The other source of joy is of course what I was doing instead of preparing the HHD services. Coming in to the season relaxed, rather than exhausted from a long spell at work, has undoubtedly helped. I don't think any amount of words would adequately describe how much it was good for me to spend uninterrupted time withjack, hatam_soferet and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rysmiel. All of them, and some other people I love, have connected with me in the time since I've been home and reminded me again just how amazingly fortunate I am in my friends.
All that said, several people I care about are going through really hard things at the moment. I hope I can draw strength from moments like this to be able to be there for them as much as I can.
I was relaxing over a good meal. I'm building up a small and occasional habit of eating out alone, because sometimes I don't have time and energy for either cooking or seeking out company and sometimes I would rather have less money and better food. Many other times I'll just eat takeaways or ready meals, mind you, but that doesn't have to be a universal rule, if I'm willing to cultivate a certain mindset that suits sitting in restaurants on my own. Part of that mindset is enjoying pleasure for its own sake, which I think helped to contribute to this precise mood.
I was reading the internet on my phone and pondering people's excellent words, feeling connected to my diverse, scattered online community. There was a post of
kaberett's that made me think about what it means to be a scientist and about art and poetry and continued some really heartening discussion we've been having recently. It was a fine, clear autumn evening; autumn is always a good season for me emotionally, particularly when it's cool and sunny rather than wet and miserable. I'd walked a little way to the restaurant, half a mile or so my face was flushed from mild exercise in cool evening air. That was because I'd accepted a lift from a member of the community after the service earlier in the evening. I am slightly annoyed that people won't let me walk home alone after dark, it's less than ten minutes from the synagogue to my front door and most of that straight through the well-lit, always-active hospital. And anyway I like walking and I refuse to be restricted by sexist expectations disguised as safety advice. But I'm also touched and feel loved that people are concerned about me, and they expressed their concern in a very gentle, friendly way. It would in fact have been quicker for me to walk from the synagogue to the restaurant than to get a lift home and walk from there, but hey.
I'd been in synagogue for the start of Succot, which is "Tabernacles" in English if that means anything to you. One of its epithets is "the season of our joy", it's a harvest festival originally, though we're a long way from the agricultural origins of that now. Running the opening service for Succot was not quite the last of my very intense load of liturgical obligations for this month, but it comes after the really difficult ones and I feel I'm on the home stretch once I've launched it. An Israeli with a connection to the community I didn't quite gather had brought us a self-assemble lulav from Israel, and I put it together so that my hands smelled of etrog (citron) all through the evening. We went into our not terribly kosher, practically falling over it's so ramshackle succah to carry out the commandment of taking lulav, and everybody was having fun, laughing at the strangeness of waving a bunch of different leaves and an oversized knobbly lemon around, and at the sorry state of the succah which was never very solid in the first place and had suffered badly from a few days of autumn storms.
The reason for the sorry state of the succah was that we built it Sunday afternoon in completely atrocious weather. Only a couple of parents were brave enough to bring their kids to an outdoor event in those sorts of conditions. The children who were there had a marvellous time, running about in the grassy area behind the cemetery, gathering extremely sodden sticks and branches and flowers and berries and getting soaked to the skin and filthy themselves. Tying up some fruits most precariously with string, needing to retreat indoors to dry off before they'd had time to really make the succah beautiful or check its construction.
Sometimes people complain that Succot is too close to Yom Kippur, and I know I sometimes join in; it is a lot of religious stuff to organize in a very short space of time. But somehow it felt really right this year, to spend Saturday in serious prayer and contemplation, and then Sunday building a ridiculous den in the middle of a major rainstorm. As if we'd come out of the Day of Atonement clean and renewed and innocent, put aside our spiritual anxieties and reconvened in a totally playful mode.
The service itself had gone reasonably well, enough that I felt satisfied that I'd done the right thing by my community and provided at least some aspects of the experience they were looking for. I got the timing right, people seemed attentive and interested throughout the day, it felt that we were journeying very much as a fellowship through the whole gamut of emotional states evoked. Practically the only tunes that everybody knows are two sung texts with fairly depressing words,
And for all these sins, o God of forgiveness, forgive us, pardon us, grant us atonement, and
Our father, our king, answer us and be gracious to us, for we lack any good deeds. Treat us with charity and kindness and save us. Even so, there was something of joy in people recognizing the long-familiar tunes and joining in together, musically a bit ragged but feeling like a community connected to our traditions. It wasn't the best YK I've ever done; my sermon ended up bitty, and more people congratulated me on the feat of endurance than on how meaningful the service had been, but it was good enough, and the community were there with me making their own meaning and not needing it to be perfect.
Part of the reason that YK wasn't brilliant was that I hadn't had as much time to prepare as I'd like, having come straight back from my holiday the day before Rosh haShana. But the liturgy and some of the texts are so powerful in its own right that it speaks to people even if it's implemented imperfectly. Actually there was a moment in the RH additional service where everything came together really well, in spite of my slight under-preparedness. When I read the prayer
We declare how profound is the holiness of this dayI could feel the wave of attention and seriousness as the whole community responded. Part of that is stage-craft, and I always have to be careful not to let it turn into a power-trip. I think I can justify feeling satisfied that I can do this well and that minor talent is something that's helpful for the congregation, though.
Another part of why I was under-prepared was that my parents decided to come up for YK to support me in my efforts, which was really very thoughtful of them and made me feel very much loved. It did also mean that I couldn't do what I sometimes resort to, and skimp on the housework during the Ten Days in order to allow myself more time to work on the services. It's also true that having a clean, tidy house is good for my mood! In the end Mum and Granny couldn't make the trip after all, so Dad came on his own, and we had a completely excellent time together during the parts of the weekend that weren't taken up by services, chatting and telling stories from our respective professional histories.
There are some positives to not using the whole of Elul to work on the liturgy until it becomes worn with repetition. And even to not using that time for self-examination and feeling guilty and regretful. I came to the services really fresh, enough that some of the words even managed to surprise me and catch my attention anew. I let go of any worry that I hadn't sufficiently completed the official process of repentance, I just knew I hadn't and was therefore in a mindset of simply asking for forgiveness as sincerely as I could. In a way I was focused on God more than on myself. Yes, it would be nice if I'd sorted out every interpersonal awkwardness and come up with strategies to address every bad habit in my life ahead of the Days of Awe. There is something to be said for acceptance instead of striving, though.
The other source of joy is of course what I was doing instead of preparing the HHD services. Coming in to the season relaxed, rather than exhausted from a long spell at work, has undoubtedly helped. I don't think any amount of words would adequately describe how much it was good for me to spend uninterrupted time with
jack, hatam_soferet and rysmiel. All of them, and some other people I love, have connected with me in the time since I've been home and reminded me again just how amazingly fortunate I am in my friends.All that said, several people I care about are going through really hard things at the moment. I hope I can draw strength from moments like this to be able to be there for them as much as I can.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-09-19 01:49 pm (UTC)Chag sameach!
(no subject)
Date: 2013-09-19 02:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-09-19 06:07 pm (UTC)Also, I love reading about people being happy. Joyous, even. Even if other people are going through hard things. Even if I am. Someone is always going through something hard. If we wait to celebrate until everyone is happy, we will die without ever having gotten to. That's not what life is about. We need to make the happiness welcome when it comes.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-09-19 06:30 pm (UTC)(Some of this is that I trust you and feel safe around you, of course, and some of that is that Judaism is generally non-evangelical[1] ;) -- but it is also that I do genuinely like to learn, and you - talk about it all so beautifully.)
[1] personal disclaimer here about how I have Serious Religion-Related Trauma and go into fight-or-flight the moment it starts to look like someone thinks I'd be better off converted/religious/whatever.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-09-19 10:56 pm (UTC)This is endlessly amusing to me today.
Chag sameach!
(no subject)
Date: 2013-09-20 02:29 pm (UTC)You are definitely right that we can't sit around never being happy until everything in the world is perfect. I really like the phrasing of ; thank you for that. Even knowing all these things you point out I do want to be sensitive, both in talking about religion and in talking about joy and this comment does make me feel like I'm doing ok with that.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-09-20 02:37 pm (UTC)I think this conversation means I should make that post I was hesitating about, regarding trying to be a religious person in an ethical way when religious institutions have done and continue to do so much to harm GSM folk. In the meantime, knowing that my babbling about my community volunteering stuff makes you smile and helps you learn really does help a lot. Thank you for commenting so supportively, means a lot, seriously.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-09-20 02:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-09-21 09:31 am (UTC)I do love reading your posts.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-09-21 02:05 pm (UTC)