Can I be honest? In these past months, I have lost more sleep, wrestled with more anxiety, and endured new levels of second-guessing myself, all because the intersection of High Holy Days and the coronavirus pandemic has upended finely honed planning and practices. Where once many of my fellow rabbis and I felt pressure over sermon writing, now, like so many colleagues around the world, we are stressing out over megabytes needed and minutes to cut, and platforms to stream on, and prayers to preserve. And then one late night, this confession came forth. Perhaps it speaks of your truth too:
In the Middle of the Night:
A High Holy Day Clergy COVID-19 Confession
In the middle of the night
I am feeling the fright
About how to do this right—
My High Holy Days COVID-19 rewrite
Can I be an inspiration?
Will I shine a comforting light?
Will the internet hold up
Providing sufficient megabytes?
Are my kavannot kosher?
Are my stories too trite?
Should we prerecord or livestream
At the temple or offsite
What passions can I convey
From my living room as I sit tight?
What comfort can I bring
Streaming from a distance satellite?
Will I uplift enough souls
To make my community unite?
Will my sermons make them think
Or will they just cause a dogfight?
Can my services really stem
The feared membership flight?
Will my appeal really raise Tzedakah
From each philanthropic socialite?
Did we think it all through
Was our preparation airtight?
Did I fail to strategically plan
Without sufficient foresight?
Will I fall to the virus
The thermometer’s rising Fahrenheit?
Or from something unexpectedly random
Like a West Nile virus mosquito bite?
Have I already ruined Yom Kippur
Like a wayward satellite?
Will I watch it come crashing down
Like a fiery meteorite?
Will I later kick myself
With 2020’s hindsight
After I quickly crash and burn-
Oy, I’m getting stage fright
Yes, I’m trying for homeostasis
To be patient and polite
But my heart’s being attacked
By anxiety’s lymphocyte
So as I ride the rollercoaster
Like a frightened suburbanite
I’m trying to discern the future
Like a soon-to-be extinct Canaanite
Worrying, when we gather together
For Rosh Hashanah’s first candlelight
Will my rabbinate already be over
Before I step into the limelight
Like all my clergy friends
I’m trying to breath through the fright
Though the pressure’s overwhelming
For us clerical leading lights
I know our people have the desire
And a massive spiritual appetite
So I wonder what else can I bring
During this moment of irreligious blight
What else can I offer
That will make my community delight?
Oy, I’d better calm down
So I don’t seem so uptight
And I’d better get some sleep
Hours after midnight
So I can get up and get working
At the first morning’s light
Just one more thought…
My sermons are ready
And the chanting seems right
And the Torah’s all rolled
And my machzor’s in sight
Will it all be for naught
Even if I get it all right
Because I simply forgot to send
The congregational Zoom invite?
Anxiety, I hate you
But at least you’re my constant friend
I’ll see you every night
Until these High Holy Days end.
Rabbi Paul Kipnes serves Congregation Or Ami in Calabasas, California.