Ready to Begin
Shehecheyanu in Carroll Gardens
Dear friends,
When you go to the theater there is one moment you can always count on to be beautiful, and that’s when the house lights go down on the crowd and the play is about to begin. It’s a moment of quiet anticipation, where it’s easy to feel present, where the excitement for what is coming is real. In the Jewish calendar, believe it or not, that’s the moment we’re in.
What might this year bring?
I admit, that’s a scary question. But this rather magical week that passed reminded me that it’s also an incredibly exciting one.
What made this week magical is that, along with the frightful political events, I had the great fortune to experience three beautiful beginnings. On Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday we opened each of the three Brooklyn branches of our Hebrew school, the School for Creative Judaism (with this Tuesday coming up in the Village!). Each opening was a sweet, happy gathering, overflowing with young wisdom, wonder and joy. It’s so easy to forget how centering hanging out with kids can be.
“Where does light come from,” Arnan, our Senior Educator asked the kids in Windsor Terrace. Our annual theme at the School is the Year of the Artists, so one of our focuses will be light.
“The sun!”
“Only the sun?” Arnan was expecting this answer.
The follow-up question opened the gates. Estella talked about the heart. Otto offered Shabbat candles. Jack spoke about encouraging one another. Suddenly we were all in a space of wonder. Where does light actually come from?
In Clinton Hill when we sat down in our ma’agal (circle), we sang Sim Shalom, one of the daily prayers for peace, in which we ask:
ברכנו אבינו כולנו כאחד באור פניך
“bless us, one and all with the light emanating from Your face.”
Reflecting on the lack of peace in Israel and Palestine, among other places, Laila asked a simple question: "Why can’t they just share?" What was amazing about what ensued is that nobody answered with “it’s complicated.” Instead, kids, pre-teens, and adults thought together about the question. One suggested it’s the leadership’s fault. Another talked about fear. A third spoke about history. This is beginning. A true engagement with a real question in search of the light of understanding.
In Carroll Gardens things got physical. Instead of the Torah’s story of creation I shared with the group a Kabbalistic one, known as Shvirat Hakelim, The Breaking of the Vessels. When God wanted to create the world, She knew it has to be done with light. So, as a first step, God prepared ten vessels to hold the primordial light. When God poured the light into them, it didn’t go so well. Out of the ten vessels, only three survived. The other seven exploded into millions of pieces. Our job, according to the Kabbalists, is to collect the infinite shards of the vessels, so that we can hold the light.
I never quite understood this story, so I asked the kids to physicalize it into a moving statue. After each group performed their mini-plays, I asked them what they thought the story means. Alex said it’s how the stars are created. Misha Y. said it means God makes mistakes. “The world is ours to fix,” he announced.
When we sang the Shehecheyanu with each branch, we all started jumping and clapping our hands. How lucky are we! We’re alive. We’re here. We’re ready to begin.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Misha