Tag: Thanksgiving

Categories
chaplains General CCAR Healing Rabbis Reform Judaism

On the Eve of Thanksgiving, Further Post-Election Reflections

On this eve of Thanksgiving, I am reflecting deeply and with profound movement of spirit and heart upon two weeks of listening, processing and holding the feelings raised by the election. In my role with the CCAR, it was a tremendous privilege to help organize the call we offered to our members and to share in the leadership of that call with our insightful, skilled and heart-open colleague, Ellen Lewis. All that Ellen taught us that day has remained present to me in the passage of these weeks and has helped immensely. To summarize a couple of key points, Ellen reminded us to be attentive to the truth of our own feelings and to remember that those feelings can inform how we act but need not control our actions. She invited us to self-care and compassion, and to hold close the knowledge that, in times of heighted feelings (particularly anger, fear and anxiety), we are all prone – and this includes those we serve – to acting out and displacement. I know those teachings will have proven helpful to those who were on the call (or who availed themselves of the recording as found at on the CCAR member’s site) as they have to me.

Upon reflection, I have a couple of additional thoughts to offer, particularly to those who have been in pain over the results. First, I have felt and noticed heard people speak of feelings that resemble those of mourning. And I would caution us against buying too fully into that metaphor. As many of us know from pastoral work, when someone is gravely – even life-threateningly ill – it is not uncommon for people to slip into anticipatory grief. It is almost as though the psyche is saying, “If I just experience the anger or the sadness now, maybe I won’t fall into despair when the inevitable death happens.” And it is a dangerous place to go. Chevre, the patient(s), our own souls and the soul of our country are gravely wounded, but the wounds have not yet proven fatal nor even been pronounced mortal. As was the case after 9/11, certain ideas we had about how things were may well have died two weeks ago, or at least been seriously altered. But we are here, as is the nation. We need to avoid falling into the anticipatory grief which will prevent us from doing whatever is to be our tikkun in responding to the wounds.

And one piece of the tikkun – in the framework of Rebbe Nachman’s teaching, especially on this eve of Thanksgiving, we can be looking for the od m’at (see Psalm 37) – the little place where evil/despair/rage do not hold sway, and from that little place “azamra l’Elohai b’odi” (Psalm 146) sing our way into inviting abundance back into the world – abundance of love, of hope and of commitment to justice. On this Thanksgiving, may the little place sing to each of us and help us inch our way toward healing and sacred purpose. And then, back to the work.

Rabbi Rex Perlmeter is CCAR Special Advisor for Member Care and Wellness

Categories
Chanukah

Chanukah: The Miracle of Giving (Tuesday)

We each have moments when we step back and take stock. Opportunities afforded to us because the year has turned one full cycle and we, clay touched by holiness, are allowed a glimpse into the essence of our lives.

A significant birthday.
An anniversary.
A Yahrzeit.

2 years of sobriety.
25 years since ordination.
3 years since I came out to my family.

Each of these moments transcends time, allowing us – like Adam HaKadmon “in the beginning” – to see clearly the past and our present. They invite us to imagine the future.

Our Jewish holy days, set in the Torah or by rabbinic decree, invite a similar accounting. These holy days cycle back annually, calling us to recall who we were and who we are becoming now.

Rosh Hashana, as the New Year begins, invites us to count our blessings.
Yom Kippur calls us to balance the accounting of our ma’asim and averot.
Pesach, a new beginning, invites us to recount the freedom which we once had, then lost, then with God’s help, reclaimed anew.

Each of these holy days turn us inward to the essence of our lives, and then subtly force our gaze and focus outward to the needs and concerns of our people.

Even the unique convergence of Chanukah and Thanksgiving – Thanksgivukkah? ChanTHANKSukah? Tur-Lat-Key Day? – moves us through the same eternal cycle.

For many, the beauty of the Chanukah-Thanksgiving pairing is that it moves us away from the popular narcissistic “gimme-gimme” culture (gimme presents, gimme food) instead turns our focus outward. We find ourselves being especially thankful for the food, the family surrounding us and the blessings that uplift our lives. If only we could harness those warm fuzzy feelings and transform them into a force for tikkun.

That’s why I’m particularly excited about the relatively new venture called #GivingTuesday.

You know about Black Friday and Cyber Monday – two days, designated in American retail culture for conspicuous consumption and for getting deals. Giving Tuesday — the Tuesday after Thanksgiving, the Tuesday in the middle of Chanukah — is a day when we are invited to give to others to act to create a better brighter world.

I am pleased that the Central Conference of American Rabbis is inviting you to share your blessings – and tzedakah – on #GivingTuesday. The CCAR strengthens and enriches the entire Jewish community and plays a critical leadership role in the Reform Movement through its work by fostering excellence in Reform Rabbis, unifying the Reform Jewish community through the publication of liturgy, providing essential support to rabbis – professionally and personally, and offering important resources to congregations and community organizations. Services to the Reform Rabbinate, in-turn, enhance connectedness among Reform Jews by applying Jewish values to the world in which we live and help create a compelling and accessible Judaism for today and the future.

We will light the lights of Chanukah. We will offer our thanks on Thanksgiving. Let’s transform our warm feelings into real action by supporting an organization which helps us rabbis bring light into the world.

You can make a donation here.

Happy Tur-Lat-key Day!

 

Rabbi Paul J. Kipnes is the spiritual leader of Congregation Or Ami in Calabasas, CA.  

Categories
Chanukah News Rabbis Reform Judaism

The Grinch of Thanksgivukkah

It was cute the first time I heard it. But by now, I’m really annoyed every time it appears on a screen or in print. “Thanksgivukkah”—-yes,  I’ve seen the video, perused the recipes, been preached to by my colleagues on-line who want to explain the commonalities  of Thanksgiving and Chanukah—-the quest for religious freedom, the parallels with the Maccabees belatedly observing Sukkot, the harvest festival (I get it!), and as always (especially in our “foodie” era) the obsession with food.  Also, lest I forget, there is this once-in-a-lifetime confluence of these two holidays (although the date of Thanksgiving having been proclaimed by President Lincoln in 1863 and by federal legislation in 1941, it does not strike me as very long ago in Jewish terms).  And forgive us, our Canadian cousins, for ignoring the fact that you celebrate the holiday on a different day!

Having been a “cranky old lady” well before my chronological time, I hesitate to even enter the fray. Lighten up, I tell myself; and yet….I must ask: why do we always have to compare Chanukah with something else, whether for good (i.e. this year) or for bad (every other year, when it comes near or on Christmas)? Why must we persist in aggrandizing Chanukah by forcing absurd parallels? And how will we argue against the “Christmakkah” appellation next year when we’ve been so pro-“Thanksgivukkah” this year? Why can’t we just let Chanukah be Chanukah?

Over the years, I have come to cherish the smallness of the Chanukah candles. Against the garish cartoonism of much of December’s over-merchandising, the little candles (distinguished only, and then only in recent years, by their rainbow hues) barely (bravely?) stand out. They are meant to be small, proclaiming two unlikely miracles: the victory of the Maccabees (Hasmoneans) over the grand armies of Antiochus IV Epiphanes in the second century B.C.E; and the ultimate survival of Judaism, a minority religious group, among other majority religious groups (then the cult  of Antiochus and Hellenistic religion, later Christianity and Islam).

The cost was often paid in blood, exile, blatant and subtle discrimination. It is not easy to be different, stubborn (“stiff-necked”, as the Bible puts it), or as we used to say in the old days (but are more embarrassed to say now) chosen. Despite everything (“lamrot ha-kol”), despite unimaginable horrors and pressures, we Jews somehow remained Jews and remained a people in the world.

IMG_2787Look closely, the candles seem to say: we’re still here, surprisingly, perhaps. You may have to look carefully for us, because we are more integrated into the larger society (a current de rigueur note: see PEW study). We don’t always “look” Jewish (whatever that means anymore!), our names don’t always “sound” Jewish, we are now major players in the majority world. Could the Maccabees have imagined our status now?

 Yet in our world today, the dangers are still out there—there are those who would still be happy to see us disappear, and would be more than ready to at least blow out the shamash (the guiding candle) that is Israel, if not the rest of us as well. We’re not as safe as we would like to pretend.

 And then there is that other knotty problem, our internal one:  what is it that we’re preserving as a Jewish people? (PEW once again, if you insist on percentages) Why do we still insist on being ourselves, and not just become someone else? Some of our Orthodox family think we Reform Jews have already fallen over the abyss into blatant Hellenism. We can angrily dismiss those claims, but the questions persist: who are we? why do we keep on being Jewish?

 Why, after all, are we still lighting these candles night after night, year after year? How do we keep the little flames alive?

 This year, we have a special opportunity to teach about Chanukah AS IT IS, instead of as the “un-Christmas”; to celebrate our physical and spiritual survival as Jews; to honor a light that never stops burning (as Cynthia Ozick has written, “an urgent tiny flame of constancy that ignites the capacious light of freedom”).

This year, the entire eight days of Chanukah stand firmly on their own, a separate ritual, metaphorically marking a separate people and tradition, which might not have survived without those brave, controversial, and (yes!) fiercely anti-Hellenistic Maccabees  and the creative rabbinic spiritual interpretative layer of a tiny vial of oil.

Do we really have to transform these miracles into an over-hyped, commercialized Thanksgivukkah?

 Rabbi Mindy Avra Portnoy is the Rabbi Emerita of Temple Sinai, in Washington, DC, and is the author of the groundbreaking children’s book, Ima on the Bima.