I managed to daven shacharit two mornings in a row, yesterday because I was up so early, today because A. is staying home to grade and took Z. to school. ("Daven shacharit" means "pray the morning service" in a combination of Yiddish and Hebrew as imported into American English. So a very Jewish phrase.)
When I was studying for my adult bat mitzvah, on the advice of my tutor I began praying daily. It complemented the work we were doing in tutoring and it helped me learn the service. I felt very shy about it at first--my Hebrew was lousy (still is) and it took me forever to sound everything out, I went over to the English for a lot of it, for a long time all I did was birchot hashachar, (the morning blessings, the preliminary series of blessings said upon waking) because that took me so long. And apart from bat mitzvah prep, I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing it for.
I don't know if I exactly ever figured that out--the "what" part. God? Tradition? Community?
But eventually I was doing it because the rhythm of doing it moved me and grounded me and elevated me. There are a few key mornings when I remember pouring everything into the service, praying it in my head, trying to get unstuck.
I stopped praying daily long before Ziv was born. I can't even remember why. Partly, it seemed more like A.'s thing. Partly, once A. moved in our commute became complicated so I was waking up earlier. But I was still going to services on Saturday morning and shacharit was still part of how I felt connected to the world and myself.
When we were in Madison, services were so truncated and Jewishly illiterate that I started leading them out of frustration. When we returned home, I was willing to keep it up--and here I need to backpedal a little to explain that our home minyan is the ur-congregation of Reconstructionist Judaism. It is where the staff and students of the Recon Rabbinical College daven, and the staff of the Jewish Reconstructionist Federation, and all of the Recon rabbis who have settled in Philadelphia doing chaplaincy or non-profit work. Over half of the committee that assembled the siddur for our movement is in the congregation at our minyan.
But after Madison I loved shacharit and I wanted to lead. I also felt that I knew a few things about how to use the prayerbook that the congregation had lost or forgotten over the years. So I was leading about every two months. In my womb, Z. would dance to pesukei dezimrah (verses of praise--drawn from psalms--the introductory part of every service).
I stopped leading after Z. was born and settled into the the nursing mama corner of the room, but I still went more often than not.
What changed was the store. At first it was that it was so exhausting. It's still often so exhausting. But gradually it became more about the times when I did go--everyone would ask me how the store was doing and that is the one question that terrifies me. I don't want to be found out as the disorganized fraud that I am. Also, thinking about "how the store is doing" on shabbat pretty much eliminates shabbat from my life. My work is worrying about how the store is doing and I don't want to fucking do that on shabbat, thank you very much.
So I have disappeared from services. When I do go I feel like I am slinking, spiritually. I am losing a large part of my community and my spiritual grounding because of this, but I am still letting myself do it.
About Me
- S.
- Mom, spouse, friend, small business owner, knitter, gardener, [converted] Jew
4 comments:
I like how really both your blogs are in every possible respect non-embarrassing! This was a good post. But I respectfully offer--do you not think that (like the therapist thing) you might just need to find a different congregation? Perhaps one where you worship, as it were, incognito, and people know you as a reader and writer and mother rather than a bookstore owner?
If only it worked like that!
I hate how arrogant this sounds, but the bald truth is that I'm much too high-profile in my neighborhood to be incognito anywhere anymore. That's necessary to the success of the store and I need to suck it up and find ways to adjust without staying in this cave. (And I won't drive to a shul I like less when such good choices are in walking distance.)
But there are also a slew of other reasons why I don't want a different congregation.
Maybe it doesn't come through, but I loved leading this group in prayer. I loved how if I faltered the group's voice would come up and support me. I loved being carried that way. I love how well-educated they are, and how sophisticated and well-felt the Torah discussion is. I love the davenning itself, the way it flows, the way the songs come together, the way kids run in and out, the way you can feel comfortable there in anything from shorts to dresses. I love looking at people's prayer shawls. I love how good and smart and fun children's services are. I love that our level of observance is not out of the run of normal here. And I love that I met A. there, not once but twice.
I just hate how I feel on display. It should not be the case that one thing outweighs all the rest, but right now it does.
Yes, I quite see what you're saying. Interesting challenge to reclaim that space...
Reclaiming, yes.
Also feeling better in my skin in this prominence I now have. It was interesting being back at Harvard, which was the last time I had anything like a high profile. I remember walking across the yard and being aware of everyone around me, just in case.
Something to think about.
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