Return, Return, Return

This is the mantra of the upcoming Jewish holiday of Rosh Hashanah.  It is a time for Teshuva and a time when most Jews - even those who are not religiously observant during the year - will return, if even for a moment.  What is it about this holiday that draws us back?

Teshuva means to return, and Rosh Hashanah is the perfect time to begin anew. It is time to take an accounting of the year - or years - that has/have passed.  It is a time to recognize and accept responsibilities for our major blunders.  It is a time to identify ways in which we want to grow, change, or adapt in the year to come.

The act of Teshuva - especially at this time of year - encourages us to come out of our holes, to commit to making life holy, and to make each moment a conscious moment.  It allows us to leave behind that which does not suit us well.  It is a directive to transform those things that have burdened us into things that will work for us.

It has been just over three years since my last post - my post about losing Cindy - an experience that changed my life.  And, not necessarily, in a good way.  Losing Cindy made me afraid, reluctant to love people, and - instead of making me more patient with my children, my husband, and the people I love - it made me impatient, rigid, and angry.

I tried - many times - to write.  I have not been successful.  I have only a few drafts that were never finished or remain unpublished from those three years.  Most of my attempts are in the wastebasket under my desk.

This past Sunday, I attended a workshop titled Turn, Turn, Turn Teshuva 2012 led by Rabbi Elana Kanter of the Women's Jewish Learning Center.  Teshuva, Teshuva, Teshuva.  Return. Return.  Return.

Even at the beginning of this three-hour workshop, I was struck by the notion of returning and the three paths of return that Rabbi Kanter identified.  We turn back to ourselves. We turn back to our community.  We turn back to G-d.


Return to Self
G-d can only be G-d, Rabbi Kanter said, if people make him G-d.  And, immediately I thought of the story of the man in the flood (not Noah, the other lesser known man).  There was a flood, and the man climbed up onto his rooftop to await G-d's help.  His faith was strong, and he knew he'd be all right.  When a boat passed by, he waved them on - as he continued to wait for G-d's help.  As the waters crept higher, additional boats came by and, each time, the man graciously waved them on.  G-d would come.  When the waters rose too high, the man drowned.  He came before G-d and demanded to know where G-d had been when he needed him.  And, G-d's reply?  "Why did you not get on the boats I sent to you?"

If we do not make G-d King, then G-d is not a King.  This month - this month of Elul - is the easiest time to welcome G-d back as your King.  The month of Elul is the month that the King comes out of His castle and roams the fields, opening His doors to His people.

If you want to get beyond something, you have to work at it - work really hard.  And, then - after all that work - you have to take action.  There is no sitting and waiting.  Nothing goes away with mere anticipation.

When we return to G-d, we return to ourselves.

Return to Community
When we turn from ourselves, we also remove ourselves from our community.  Even if we remain involved and connected, we are not present.  When we form habits or take ourselves away - we grow accustomed to that way of being.

Rabbi Kanter asked the group to consider whether there was anything we do that used to give us pause but no longer gives us pause.  I stopped going to shul when my children were young.  They are not so young anymore - and it does still make me pause each week - but I don't do anything about it.  Creating Parsha study at home is not the same as being a part of a davening community.  I cannot allow my own 'pausing habits' to impact my children and what I desire for them.

I haven't written in three years.  I think about it  - a lot!  I've tried to come back to it - a lot!  It's not even that I have a following or have made my blog public at all, but writing is an external expression - a reflection of being part of something outside of yourself.  Withdrawing from writing is withdrawing from life.

Return to G-d
This morning - in a class led by Esther Allouche - she shared an analogy of our relationship with G-d.  Picture G-d as a large, thick pillar candle with its wick lit aflame.  The light from this candle - or any candle, for that matter - is infinite and can light any number of candles without losing any light itself.  So, G-d (this giant, pillar candle) lights the smaller, tapered candles (us) so that each of us has a burning, living piece of G-d within us.  Esther also pointed out that the flame of a candle always reaches upward - even when it is upside down.  Our light - is always reaching toward G-d.  When the candle is standing still, the flame continues to waver and to dance.  It never sits still - nor should we - especially when it comes to our relationship with G-d.

Returning to G-d involves making a meaningful connection.  It becomes a process of setting aside your ego - over and over again.  And living with purpose, intention.  It's being an active participant.

Teshuva is a continual process of renewal, reconnection, and revamping.  The month of Elul, Rosh Hashanah, the Days of Awe, and Yom Kippur are an especially powerful time for this deep introspection, renewed commitment, and extensive effort toward growth and change.

Return. Return.  Return.
I will return.

In the midst of motherhood, you find your Self.