Tevet
New moon. Long night. Final candles.
The new moon of Tevet arrived in a sweet embrace with winter solstice and the final night of Hanukkah. At my house, we lit candles, ate latkes and decorated the Christmas tree. Nothing says indigestion like bourbon eggnog and latkes! The new plumbing broke and suddenly water started leaking all over the floor. We’ve been renovating our funky kitchen and we chose a funky guy who doesn’t quite have the attention to details that one wants in a renovation. Oh well. What’s funky gets funkier? Ye old “lipstick on a pig?” Definitely a first world problem and I am so grateful to be able to ditch the 30 year old cabinets and the microwave with the duct taped handle and update it all a bit. Normally we get our tree and decorate it early December so we can enjoy the gorgeous lights and smell all month. This year everything was delayed due to the renovation and so we found ourselves “on trend” with just a beautiful bare tree with lights. But last night we decorated and walked through memories: my childhood ornaments, sharing the stories of the boy’s (two young adults now) ornaments with the youngest kiddo’s long term girlfriend who’s here for the holidays. And my mom’s (z’l) ornaments which each year become a little easier to see and celebrate. And through it all, the glorious blaze from the menorahs, reminding me that it is up to us humans to shine our lights.
On Saturday I achieved a dream at the conjunction of the quadruple chag - celebration - of Hanukkah, Havdallah, Solstice and Rosh Chodesh - an ecstatic dance party!
“Bracha at Havaya, Eloteinu Ruach Ha’olam…” we prayed. “Blessed are You, Everpresence, Holy Source of All Things.” Havaya expresses the holy life flow rather than a divine being, centers mercy and compassion, and places humans in relationship to the ongoing renewal of creation. The word Havaya, (a rearrangement of Yud-Hey-Vav-Hey - the unpronounceable name of God) refers to the holy pulse of becoming — the life-force that was, is, and is still arriving, Everpresence. What an amazing experience to be in a Jewish space that is leaning into what I am calling “emergent” prayer language rather than just reciting the rote “Lord our God, Sovereign, Creator” language. And then to dance to cool Israeli beats and modern Jewish soul music including one of my faves by one of my faves. “She is on Her Way” by Aly Halpert. It was peaceful, radiant, dreamy and really freaking fun!
Meanwhile, the external world surges toward Christmas in a frenzy of brightness, consumption, and noise. Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas. Grew up with it. Food, family, definitely presents, beautiful trees and lights. No God stuff ever. Just the “cultural trimmings,” if you will. But the relentless commercialization and consumerism is really hard, not to mention bad Christmas songs in every store for over a month.
And then there’s Hanukkah. Hanukkah, despite how commercialized it has become—despite the gelt and the marketing and the pressure to make it “bigger”—is, actually, a minor holiday with a problematic origin story. It’s root is a violent expression of fundamentalism that doesn’t sit easily with many of us today. Let’s not gloss over that. However, we can reframe the practice as a practice of choosing light in a broken world. To be light, join our light with others and shine the light of healing and possibility.
The new moon coinciding with Hanukkah and Solstice offers perfect opportunity to reflect on the gifts of quiet darkness, gestation or hibernation, and the importance of the ways we tend to our own light as well as joining our light with others. We need to make sure we nurture our own flame in a Goldilocks kind of way: tend to your soul flame so that it’s just right!
It’s a good time for rest and hibernation. That’s what the natural world in the northern hemisphere is offering. It’s been such a terrible week in a terrible year. I know I am ready for some deep renewal. At Kabbalat Shabbat services on Friday, I heard Min hameitzar, karati Yah; anani vamerchav Yah (From the narrow place, I cried out to God and God answered me from the expanse) offered not as a summons back to cheerfulness, but as an invitation into spaciousness, into the possibility of holding complexity and finding a little breathing room. There’s so much swirling. Spaciousness is a gift. Time to actually think, feel and process. Spaciousness. I love this healing prayer by Keshira haLev Fife and Joshua Blaine based on min hameitzar. “To You I call, feeling scared and small. And You reply with the vastness of the sky.” Spaciousness. What a gift.
However you move through this time of year, I hope you remember to slow down. Visit with the sky. Listen for the night birds and find time to rest.
May this dark season offer you space.
May it offer you time to dream.
May the light you kindle be a light of love, shared generously, in a world that needs it more than ever.
Ken Teheye Ritzona - may it be Her will