Proud Parenting Moment -- She Read the WHOLE THING!

Today, my youngest daughter read the entire parsha for Shirat Sarah, our women's Tefillah (prayer) group.

She did a fantastic job!

I am so proud.

I wanted to write more, but my right hip and leg are spazzing out.  I am in so much pain, even after taking pain killers.  I just cannot write more right now.

I am so grateful to God for keeping my pain down to a minimum during Shabbat.  I was really able to enjoy our simcha.

I'll write more another time. (b'li neder)



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Simchat Torah -- the way I want it?

warning: long post -- too much work to break it up into two posts!
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We were planning to go away for Simchat Torah. We always go to Katamon/Baka for Simchat Torah, because that is where I know I will be able to celebrate the way I want (without having to make a fuss!).

I like going to Shir Hadash at night, where the women dance with a Sefer Torah for all the hakafot (rounds of dancing) and there is good ruach (spirit) and energetic dancing for women. In the morning, I love to go to my women's tefillah group, Shirat Sarah, which has a really unique davening (prayer service) and also a lot of ruach.

I am not a particularly spiritual person. I am much more of a rationalist, and rather conservative about the way I like to daven (pray). But I have come to appreciate the creative outlet that Simchat Torah provides for the women in our women's tefillah community. Out of the seven hakafot, about half are "traditional" and the other half are "alternative" -- sometimes the woman leading the hakafah will teach a song, or give a small vort (telling a d'var torah or sharing a parable), or sometimes she will even do some sort of new-agey meditation or excersize. I am not really into the new-agey stuff, but I can tolerate it once a year. It clearly appeals to some women, so it is nice for them to have an opportunity to express that side of their religiousity from within the community.

When I am there, I am quite active. I read "v'zot hab'racha" every year and I have led one of the the traditional hakafot for several years now.

This year, I was honored to be asked if I had ever been Kallat Torah or Kallat B'reishit. I did have the honor, several years ago, of Kallat B'reishit, so I declined the honor. It was immeasurably powerful to read the beginning of B'reishit. Since then, it has been my desire to also read the final p'sukim of the Torah.

This year's Kallat Torah is not interested in reading, so I am scheduled to read for her! I do not particularly desire the honor of the aliyah, I am just so excited to finally be reading the the final p'sukim of the Torah!!

The truth is, reading this part of the Torah is more challenging than I expected. Whereas the beginning of the Torah is full of promise, the end of the Torah is really sad. God's final words to Moshe Rabbeinu are heartwrenching: "This is the land that I swore to Avraham, Yitzchak and Ya'akov, saying 'to your progeny I will give it. I have shown it to you, [that you should see it] with your eyes, but there you will not pass." (translation and emphasis mine)

In my current, heightened state of emotions, it is difficult for me to read that passage without crying. After all he has done for God and for the Jewish people, in order to bring them to the Land of Israel, "you will not go there" are the last words that Moshe hears before he dies, there, on that spot, overlooking the land he so desperately wanted to enter.

I hope (and pray) I can do the reading justice.

I feel so torn over this Simchat Torah. My voice has not yet fully returned, making practicing very difficult. In addition to being diligent about reading the words and notes correctly, it is important to me to read loudly and clearly. When I read, I really feel like I am transmitting the word of God; that should be done with a certain amount of strength and power. My normally booming voice is still not strong.

I am praying that I will read the aliyah well. It is more important to me than anything else that I am planning to do at the tefillah.

But what about my family?

My daughter still had a high fever (103 F / 39.4 C) last night. Because of the whole swine flu thing, the doctor on call recommended that we do not take her out until she has been at least 24 hours without a fever.

Moshe knows how important Simchat Torah is to me, and is encouraging me to go with our son, while he stays home with our daughter.

But then our whole family will be all over the place.

As is, my eldest is going to K'far Yonah, with her youth group, to spread the joy of Torah (Simchat Torah) to the community there. This will be the second year that she is not with us for Simchat Torah. After last year, I hoped she might choose to rejoin me. Apparently, making other people happy is more important to her than dancing with a Sefer Torah. I am proud that she is so giving, though I will still miss her.

If I stick with our original plan, my husband will stay home with our youngest daughter (added bummer: I have to cook, even though I am going away!), and our son will sleep at his friend's home, where we are invited for lunch. It will be more comfortable for my son to attend shul with his friend and his friend's father, rather than with me or my/our host, who he does not know so well.

I wish we were not spread out like this. I wonder if this is all a sign that we should just stay home. But I do not really believe in "signs." And I know that I would just be so disappointed (and probably frustrated) about missing Simchat Torah the way I want it.

I am way past the stage of "fighting" for a Sefer Torah, or being the main motivator for women's dancing and singing. I did that for years. Now, I just want to come and participate and enjoy the chag (holiday). I can do that if I go where I always go.

So, I am going. Even if it means going on my own. At least I will be with good friends. And I will be with my son for lunch.

It will be a mixed experience. Not quite as happy, without my family.

I am grateful for my husband's understanding and encouragement. I would not do this on my own otherwise. As I am constantly emphasizing to my kids, holidays are family time.

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update: I just spoke with my family doctor. Aliza's fever was down this morning, below 100. He thinks she should avoid shul tonight, but could be a guest, even for all of Shabbat, as long as our hosts are comfortable with it. We might be together, after all!



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Shabbat Shiur

One of the really special things about my neighborhood is the warmth and openness of the residents.

Nowhere is this more evident than at the weekly shiurim (Torah study sessions) for women on Shabbat.

Each week, a different woman from the community prepares a shiur (session). The women come from diverse backgrounds and each shiur gives us an opportunity not just to learn Torah, but also to get to know the women who live in our community.

Every week, around 30 women (sometimes more) gather together to hear the shiur. Often, there is group participation and sometimes the discussion continues even after the shiur has ended.

Despite all our differences, everyone is respectful of each other. There are women who possess tremendous knowledge of Torah and women whose knowlege is based mostly on folklore. There are women who are academics and women who are "dosim" (from a frum (religious) background, in which secular education is devalued). There are women who are young and old, religious and not so religious, intellectual and spiritual, conservative and liberal, right wing and left wing. There are women from every angle of the dati-leumi (religious Zionist) spectrum, and those who are from completely different worlds. Everyone is welcome.

And yet, no one berates anyone else's background, even when they disagree with their opinion. And no one skips a shiur because the person giving the shiur is "not her style."

I LOVE attending these shiurim.

When I moved to Homat Shmuel (a.k.a. Har Homa), I realized that going to this shiur would be the only way for me to really meet women in our community. My kids were too old for me to "hang out with the moms" in the park or to meet moms in the local school. (My kids were too old to enroll in the local school, with the exception of my youngest. However, it did not make sense to enroll her in a different school from her brother and sister, which would result in my having to pick up kids at the same time from two very distant locations!)

So, from the beginning (when we moved in), I regularly attended the shiur. Then, with all the surgeries (two years; three surgeries), my attendance dropped. Still, I went whenever I felt I could.

All that ended two years ago, when I started chemo. I just stopped going. I am too tired. I have to sleep on Shabbat. In fact, I have to sleep A LOT.

The result is that I feel rather disconnected. Whenever I meet women from the shiur, they ask why I do not come anymore. Often, they include a compliment about missing my input (I often comment or ask questions). Typically, I just smile, say how much I miss the shiur, and explain that I am usually resting during that hour.

More than that, I feel like I have not really integrated in the neighborhood as much as I would have expected.

Don't get me wrong. It is not like I am isolated. I know a lot of people here and have several good friends; but I had expected to be much more involved, both in our shul (synagogue) and in the community at large (such as participating in local municipal committees, which I did even before the neighborhood was built!). I just cannot commit to being active on a committee when I can barely keep things together in my own home (and barely is an understatement!).

I also had visions of organizing women for some sort of women's tefillah group, like Shirat Sara (my women's tefillah group in Talpiot). The closest I have come to that dream is hosting a women's megillah reading on Purim.

Recently, a friend told me about another women in the neighborhood who is also very into Jewish religious feminism. I actually met her in shul once, and had a very interesting conversation with her (it turns out that she was running the hadracha (informal education) department at Melitz when I was working there, oh, so many years ago....).

Anyway, when I saw that this woman was delivering the shiur this past Shabbat, I decided that I would make every effort to attend.

I almost missed it.

I forgot to ask Moshe to wake me in time.

Lucky for me, Moshe finished learning with our son "just in time" and woke me as he was getting ready for his Shabbat nap. It was five in the afternoon, just the time that the shiur begins.

I was about to roll over and go back to sleep when Moshe asked "Didn't you just say that you want to go to the shiur?"

That was all the "push" I needed. I forced myself out of bed, quickly got dressed, and walked as fast as I could to the shiur.

It was worth it.



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Simchat Torah 5769

"I'm just curious," my husband began, "are you always planning to go to Katamon for Simchat Torah?"

That is a no-brainer.

I want to celebrate Simchat Torah the way I like, without having to "fight" for what I want. That means being somewhere where women dance and sing, with a Sefer Torah.

In Katamon, there are multiple venues for celebrating the way I like. I have options,and they are "normal."

At night, we went to Shir Hadash, a wonderful, warm, and welcoming minyan, with a lot of ruach (lit: spirit; read: singing!). Though the shul (synagogue) is always packed, the mechitza runs down the middle, allocating equal importance to the presence of both men and women. During Hakafot, one of the two Sifrei Torah was immediately passed to the women.

In the beginning, there were so many women dancing, you could barely move. That was just right for me, since I can't move fast these days, and I can't jump around (doctor's orders). As more and more women had their turn dancing with the Sefer Torah, the crowd thinned. At times, I noticed the woman holding the Sefer Torah dancing almost alone. I immediately joined the women who were dancing, and invited others to dance by reaching for their hands (read: grabbing their hands as we passed by). I knew many of the women there, so I knew who to whom to reach out (literally and figuratively).

One of the young women there was slightly handicapped (I think both physically and mentally, but it was hard to tell). She seemed eager to be included, and every time I extended my hand to hers, she readily took it and joined the dancing. It was very special to watch her dancing with the Sefer Torah.

One of the "regulars" at Shir Hadash is a special young woman, whom I've known for several years. When I met her, she was 13, very close with her mother, always smiling, and so friendly. She gave me hope that a girl could be a teenager, and still be really nice. (I have this primal fear of my dear, sweet children, morphing into evil teenagers). I became friends with her, even though she is much younger. I enjoy her company, and her good nature. It was great "catching up" with her, and dancing and praying together.

After shul, we had a quiet dinner with our hosts, R&IP. We stayed with them last year as well; both years, we had a really nice time.

In the morning, Moshe and MD went back to Shir Hadash. A an I went to Shirat Sarah, a very special women's tefillah (prayer) group, that meets in the Pardes Beit Midrash (study hall). I had volunteered to lead one of the hakafot (I will post more on that later), and to read V'Zot HaB'racha, the Torah portion that is read, repeatedly, so that anyone who wants may receive an aliyah (be called up) to the Torah. I was honored to read the aliyah for children. (Traditionally, during the final aliyah of V'Zot HaB'racha, all the children are called up to the Torah; they stand, surrounding the bimah, under a tallit, looking up at the Sefer Torah, while the final portion is read. Then congregants throw candy at them, to make it a sweet experience.)

We stood under Rahel's beautiful, colorful tallit. I explained to the children what we were doing; then I read loudly and clearly. I always find it emotionally exciting to read Torah; I feel overwhelmed by the power of transmitting God's words. I am especially moved when I read for others, and even more so when I am reading for the children. It is a wonderful responsibility, and a gift. I try to read accurately, both grammatically, and musically.

Our tefillah group is very "earthy-crunchy;" most moms in the group (including me) don't really give their kids candies. This year, none of us remembered to bring candies to throw at the kids. My daughter, A, who is a little older, and more experienced, was surprised (read: outraged) that there was no candy!

I have been reading V'Zot HaB'racha, every year, for over 20 years. I do not really need to prepare much, since I know the reading almost by heart. Nevertheless, every year, I try to read it a little better (such as emphasizing a dagesh that I might have missed in previous years). And still, I get so excited, and nervous, when I read. It is a real privilege!

After shul, my mother (who met us at Shirat Sarah), A, and I walked up the hill to my sister's, for lunch. Thank God, the weather was cooler this year, and the walk was quite pleasant. (Last year, I really struggled in the heat). Lunch was really nice. My sister is a great cook, and a wonderful hostess.

As soon as he finished eating, MD asked to be excused. It took me a few minutes to realize he was anxious to walk over to his friend, YB. A left with him, eager to play with the girls where we were staying; she returned a few minutes later. Apparently our hosts had not yet returned from shul. A joined us for dessert, then played by herself for a while, before leaving on her own to try again at our hosts' home. This time, like the dove from Noah's Ark, she did not return.

The rest of us hung out, mostly reading, until Yom Tov (the holiday) was over.

After we made Havdallah, Moshe pronouced: "Now it's time to do 'everything.'"

I did not understand, until he explained: "Now we have to do all those things we put off until 'after the chagim (holidays).'"*

We all laughed.

This year, Y chose to join her Ezra youth group, in going to Lod (a development town), to bring youth and spirit to the town's Simchat Torah celebrations. It was hard for me to let her go, but I realized that I should support her decision to participate in this mitzvah. Several friends encouraged me to let her participate in this giving, and growing, experience. As Y pointed out, "This is something different. I've been celebrating Simchat Torah with you for 14 years; I already know what that is like."

After Simchat Torah, Y came back excited and animated. She was also indignant: "Do you know that they did not give the girls a Sefer Torah for even one hakafah?"

I smiled wryly as I answered quietly, "That's not surprising. Many places are like that. That's why I like to go where we go."



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

* In Israel, twice a year, during the period between Rosh HaShanah and Simchat Torah, and again from about two weeks before Pesach until after Pesach, the country virtually shuts down until "after the chagim." Offices are closed, or only open part time. Services are limited. And everyone is in holiday mode. It is pretty phenomenal.

Simchat Torah (2007)

I LOVE Simchat Torah. It is probably my favorite holiday. Despite coming at the end of a long holiday season, I look forward to the celebrations every year. I know where I want to daven (pray), and where I will have the experiences that I am looking for.

Unfortunately, the places I like to daven on this particular holiday are not in walking distance from my home (for me*). Usually, this is not a problem, since we welcome the opportunity to stay with friends. But, with my entire family here from the US, I didn't see how I would manage to find appropriate housing for everyone.

The thought of missing out on this special davening made me sad. I decided that I had to at least make the effort. If it didn't work out, then I did my hishtadlut (part in the effort). But I had to try and give God the opportunity to help me out. He did.

As soon as I mentioned that I was looking for accomodations, friends offered to host. Some lived far away, some offers were tentative, but there were offers and there were options. As Simchat Torah approached, I discovered that I was able to find hosts for everyone in a close radius to my sister's home, where we would all be having lunch, and to the shul (synagogue), where we would all be davening at night. (It would have worked out perfectly had I informed my brother, or his host, at which shul we would be davening. Ooops.)

I couldn't believe it. Even with all my guests, I would be able to daven in the places that uplift me spiritually. I would get my spiritual "booster shot." I was so excited and grateful to God -- and to my hosts!

At the last minute, we discovered that both Y & A had strept-throat. Even though A tested positive, she seemed totally healthy. However Y was really sick and could barely get out of bed. In the end, Y stayed with my sister. Y was disappointed to miss out on all the fun, but it was a treat for her to stay with her aunt. We hoped that by the next day (24 hours after starting antibiotics) she would at least feel well enough to join us for lunch. She did.

At night, we davened at Shir Hadash, a "Carlebach" minyan, with lots of ruach (spirit). Before we moved, that was our shul and I loved it -- I still do. I love the community, which is warm and welcoming, and I love the singing, which is strong and melodious. On Simchat Torah, there is LOTS of dancing, on both sides of the mechitzah (divider). And it is muvan me'alav (a given) that the women are also dancing, with a Sefer Torah. I especially love watching the women who are dancing with the Sefer Torah for the first time. It is a wonderful and inspiring experience.

In the past, I would dance and dance, without stopping. I didn't understand why women would stand around chatting, when they had the opportunity to sing and dance and celebrate the Torah.

This year, I knew things would be different. I wasn't able to really dance (no high-impact activity allowed -- due to the cancer in my bones, particularly in my hip). So, I had to be very careful. Still, A was with me and she wouldn't dance if I didn't. So, we danced together, in the slower parts of the circles.

I might have skipped dancing with a Sefer Torah if it hadn't been for A. In her sweet, quiet way, she let me know that she really wanted to dance with a Sefer Torah. She couldn't do that without me; she's still little. So I made sure to get the Sefer Torah during the second Hakafah, since I didn't know for how long I would be able to dance. I helped A to hold the Sefer Torah -- she wanted to hold it on her own, but it was large and heavy, so I also held on to it -- and we danced together. When she was done, I took the Sefer Torah and lifted it high into the air. I danced with it for a short while longer, then passed it on to the next woman, who was waiting.

I was able to dance for the rest of that Hakafah and one more. But by the fourth Hakafah, I had to sit down. It was a bit humbling for me to join the ranks of the "talkers" (rather than the "dancers"). And I did join in the singing occasionally (though it felt strange to be singing "from the outside"). Admittedly, I enjoyed talking with friends. And I am grateful to the friends who sat with me and kept me company! But it is difficult to accept that I can't dance the way I used to.

Moshe and I had the distinct honor of being hosted by the Rabbi and his family. It was a nice opportunity for us to get to know them better. In addition to being interesting people and wonderful hosts, they have a phenomenal assortment of books. Moshe looked around the library and stated: If I was locked in here for five years, I wouldn't get bored!!

In the morning, we (my mother, sister-in-law, and I) davened at Shirat Sarah, a unique women's tefillah group. For me, it was like coming home. I felt embraced by my friends and community. Before we moved, I used to daven there regularly (tefillot are approximately once every 6 weeks). My girls "grew up" there, and that's where Y had her Bat Mitzvah. (more on that another time)

During the year, the tefillot at Shirat Sarah are very traditional (sans d'varim she'bikedusha). But on Simchat Torah, the women can be as creative as they want with their Hakafot. This year, most of the Hakafot were unconventional, but not very radical -- instead of singing and dancing, there were many different divrei Torah. Though I really love dancing, it was gam zu l'tovah (all for the best), since I was able to sit for most of it. Still, I would have liked more dancing. Since the make-up of the Hakafot is determined by who volunteers to lead them, I volunteered to lead a more traditional Hakafah next year (b'li neder).

There was some dancing during one of the Hakafot, and A really wanted to dance with a Sefer Torah. There were three Sifrei Torah, and one was quite little (and light). I gave that one to A, and she was able to hold it by herself. She looked up at me with the sweetest smile and said "this is why I like coming to the women's tefillah". I thought my heart would burst with joy and love.

I read "V'Zot HaB'racha" in the main room, and A was by my side for much of the time. Earlier, on the way to shul, she asked if she could stand with me and told me that she likes hearing me read Torah. It was very special for me.

It was harder than usual to stay standing for so long. But I love reading and I love enabling other women to read and to get so close to the Sefer Torah and to HaShem. I was "called up" for the last "aliyah", with all the children. It was a real honor and very meaningful to me.

That moment, under the canopy of a tallit, immediately surrounded by all the children, and within a larger circle of women who I know daven for my refuah (recovery), I felt so close to God.

If I was a more learned person, I would quote a pasuk (Torah passage) here. Suffice it to say that I am grateful to everyone who helped make it possible for me to celebrate the way I wanted. And I am grateful to God, for all the gifts He gives me every day.

Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

* There are young madrichim (youth group counselors) who walk to Homat Shmuel from Kagtamon (and farther) every week. And we've had friends who have walked over on Shabbat. But I can't walk that far -- certainly not in time for shul! :-}