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SINCE 2007

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Some days are still ripe, thick on the tongue and too sweet to swallow. But now are the nights that come trickling in, one breath of relief after another. The first crisp night is always in Elul, the first deep sleep under necessary blankets.

Dane Kuttler, from the as-yet-written Elul: a calendar of readying

12 Elul 5742 / 14 September 2024

Fringes: a feminist, non-zionist havurah

ALL

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Composer’s note: there is a concept in Jewish thought, that in a person's life, they need to have both hishtadlus and bitachon, learning to balance the two.

Hishtadlus is personal effort, bitachon is trust.

This song is a tribute to the power and endurance it takes to do our own unique work in this lifetime.

Hishtadlus

Batya Levine

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ALL

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ALL

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ALL

Let us bless how from the earth these bodies of wisdom were created, alive as they are, all open openings and holy holes.

Unconcealed, revealed, we face the fate of our dignity:

if wrongly opened one would be, or wrongly closed another,

we know not how we could withstand.

Broken though this flesh can be,

still we love this life while we last.

Blessed and blessing, we bow to both the healing of sleep

and the daily miraculous of awakening.

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Taste what is in your mouth,

if it is water, still taste it.

Wash out the cups of your fingers,

clean your eyes with new tears for your sister.

We are not worse revolutionaries if we remember

that the universe itself pulses like a heart;

that the blood dances within us; that joy is a power

treading with hoofs and talons on our flimsy bodies;

that water flows and fire leaps and the land gives strength

if you build on it with respect, if you dance on it with vigor,

if you put seeds in with care and give back what is left over;

that a ritual of unity makes some of what it pretends;

that every thing is a part of something else.

from Queen’s Attitude as It Bears Upon the Matter: The Three of Cups

Marge Piercy

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Breathe

Batya Levine

Breathe breathe breathe in �Breathe breathe out

Let it go, let it go, let it go

Trust in what's coming�Trust in your knowing�It's deeper and wider and holy

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we are told to say the following

every day for a month

in preparation for the days of awe:

you are my light my help

when I'm with you I'm not afraid

I want to live in your house

the enemies that chew my heart

the enemies that break my spine

I'm not afraid of them when I’m with you

all my life I have truly trusted you

save me from the liars

let me live in your house

Elul: psalm 27

Alicia Ostriker

Fringes: a feminist, non-zionist havurah

12 Elul 5742 / 14 September 2024

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And another year goes up in smoke:

crab apples, horse chestnuts, russet

pears. Shadows lengthen when

the sun goes down, a couple of notches

earlier each night. Colors shift, become

ample, supple. Summer has rowed

away from the shore. Husks, rusks,

seed pods, casings. We want to beg

the sun to stay, tug on it with a golden

rope in both of our hands. We want to delay

the bleak inevitable, want to linger in

the bright garden even as the frivolous

petals start to let go.

Equinox

Barbara Cooper

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White butterflies, with single

black fingerpaint eyes on their wings,

dart and settle, eddy and mate

over the green tangle of vines

in Labor Day morning steam.

The year grinds into ripeness

and rot, grapes darkening,

pears yellowing, the first

Virginia creeper twining crimson,

the grasses, dry straw to burn.

Coming Up on September

Marge Piercy

12 Elul 5742 / 14 September 2024

Fringes: a feminist, non-zionist havurah

The New Year rises, beckoning

across the umbrellas on the sand.

I begin to reconsider my life.

What is the yield of my impatience?

What is the fruit of my resolve?

ALL

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The New Year is a great door

that stands across the evening and Yom

Kippur is the second door. Between them are song and silence,

stone and clay pot

to be filled from within myself.

I will find there both ripeness and rot,

what I have done and undone,

what I must let go with the waning days

and what I must take in. With the last

tomatoes, we harvest the fruit of our lives.

Coming

Up on

September

Marge

Piercy

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Fringes: a feminist, non-zionist havurah

The New Year is a great door and Yom Kippur is a second door. Between them

we find ripeness and rot,

what we have done and undone, what

we must let go and must take in.

With the last tomatoes, we harvest

the fruit of our lives.

ALL

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Meditation

What is your harvest from this year / 5784?

With the last

tomatoes, we harvest the fruit of our lives.

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In every instant, two gates.

One opens to fragrant paradise, one to hell.

Mostly we go through neither.

Mostly we nod to our neighbor,

lean down to pick up the paper,

go back into the house.

But the faint cries—ecstasy? horror?

Or did you think it the sound

of distant bees,

making only the thick honey of this good life?

Bees

Jane Hirshfield

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September

Grace Paley

Then the flowers became very wild

because it was early September

and they had nothing to lose

they tossed their colors every

which way over the garden wall

splattering the lawn shoving their

wild orange red rain-disheveled faces

into my window without shame

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There is a door you must find,

and open and walk through

into the neighbor’s yard

where once you balanced, as if

on air, one foot in front of

the other, a scrawny edging and swaying

yet steady, steady on the cedar ledge

of the fence

that divided

your childhood

with warnings for girls who dared.

You must re-enter

that brazen moment, knowing

there is no tightrope you would not try,

feeling the juices rising

as if you were a tendril pushing up, up

through the summer night

in between the glitter of stars.

If You Would Walk Your Own Heart’s Path

Pesha Joyce Gertler

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Meditation

What door do you need to open?

What risk do you need to take?

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The wasps outside

the kitchen window

are making that

thick, unraveling sound

again, floating in

and out of the bald head

of their nest,

seeming not to move

while moving,

and it has just occurred

to me, standing,

washing the coffeepot,

watching them hang

loosely in the air-thin

wings; thick, elongated

abdomens; sad, down-

pointing antennae-

that this

that this

is the heart’s constant

project: this simple

learning;

learning

how to hold

hopelessness

and hope together;

to see on the unharmed

surface of one

the great scar

of the other; to recognize

both and to make

something of both;

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Want / Carrie Fountain

to desire everything

and nothing

at once and to desire it

all the time;

and to contain that desire

fleshly, in a body;

to wash it and rest it

and feed it; to learn

its name and from whence

it came; and to speak

to it —

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Want / Carrie Fountain

oh, most of all

to speak to it —

every day, every day,

saying to one part,

“Well, maybe this is all

you get,” while saying

to the other, “Go on,

break it open, let it go.”

to contain that desire in a body

and speak to it— oh, most of all

to speak to it —

every day, every day,

saying to one part,

“Well, maybe this is all

you get,” while saying

to the other, “Go on,

break it open, let it go.”

ALL

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If Not

Rabbi Hillel, Adrienne Rich, Dane Kuttler

If I am not for myself

who is for me?

If I am only for myself

what am I?

If not now

then when?

If not with others

then how?

If not here

then where?

call & Response

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this house

in danger of being torn apart

by stones of fear.

If these words can do anything

if these songs can do anything

I say bless this house

with stars.

Transfix us with love.

Creation Story

Joy Harjo

I'm not afraid of love

or its consequence of light.

It's not easy to say this

or anything when my entrails

dangle between paradise

and fear.

I am ashamed

I never had the words

to carry a friend from her death

to the stars

correctly.

Or the words to keep

my people safe

from drought

or gunshot.

The stars who were created by words

are circling over this house

formed of calcium, of blood

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Integrity unobscured by death

Is what we hope for.

But to whom should we say

Inscribe me in the Book of Life?

To whom if not each other

To whom if not our damaged children

To whom if not our piteous ancestors

To whom if not the lovely ugly forms

We have created,

The forms we wish to coax

From the clay of nonexistence –

However persistent the voice

That rasps hopeless, that claims

Your fault, your fault

As if outside the synagogue we stood

On holier ground in a perennial garden

Jews like ourselves have just begun to plant.

from The Book of Life

Alicia Suskin Ostriker

12 Elul 5742 / 14 September 2024

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It is I who must begin.

Once I begin, once I try—

here and now,

right where I am,

not excusing myself

by saying that things

would be easier elsewhere,

without grand speeches and

ostentatious gestures,

but all the more persistently

—to live in harmony

with the “voice of Being,” as I

understand it within myself

—as soon as I begin that,

It is I who must begin

Vaclav Havel

I suddenly discover,

to my surprise, that

I am neither the only one,

nor the first,

nor the most important one

to have set out

upon that road.

Whether all is really lost

or not depends entirely on

whether or not I am lost.

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Gatherings / Elliott batTzedek

Gather our strengths

and gather our failures

Gather our kin

and gather our strangers

Gather what we love

and what we fear

Gather what we have lost

and what we are afraid to lose

Find the courage to proclaim

“All we gather is sacred”

call & Response

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And you must love The One, your God, with your whole heart, with every breath, with all you have. Take these words that I command you now to heart. Teach them intently to your children. Speak them when you sit inside your house or walk upon the road, when you lie down and when you rise. And bind them as a sign upon your hand, and keep them visible before your eyes. Inscribe them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.

all

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The self you leave behind

is only a skin you have outgrown.

Don't grieve for it.

Look to the wet, raw, unfinished

self, the one you are becoming.

The world, too, sheds its skin:

politicians, cataclysms, ordinary days.

It's easy to lose this tenderly

unfolding moment. Look for it

as if it were the first green blade

after a long winter. Listen for it

as if it were the first clear tone

in a place where dawn is heralded by bells.

And if all that fails,

wash your own dishes.

Rinse them.

Stand in your kitchen at your sink.

Let cold water run between your fingers.

Feel it.

Instructions for the Journey

Pat Schneider

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Breathing in, I take breath into myself.

Breathing out, I join the web of being.

Breathing in, I rest in the present.

Breathing out, I am part of past and future.

Breathing in, I honor the shrine of my body.

Breathing out, I honor the shrine of the cosmos.

Breathing in, Presence fills me.

Breathing out, Presence enfolds me.

Breathing in, I witness what is broken.

Breathing out, I bow to what is perfect.

Breathing in, I offer gratitude for what is.

Breathing out, I accept that all changes.

Breathing in, I pray for peace for myself.

Breathing out, I pray for peace for all beings.

Amidah / Seven Breath Meditation

Rabbi Jill Hammer/ Kohenet

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I am still obsessed with this book, and learning something new with every chapter

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The People’s History vs The Palace History

People’s History – Exodus through The Conquering of the Land

Palace History – The Davidic Dynasty through the Destruction of the First Temple

Northern

Kingdom

Southern

Kingdom

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Rewrites Happen for a Reason

First, they were mixed and combined, but NOT unified. Contradictions Abound. Minority Voices are Included.

Second, old stories got re-ordered, or assigned to new characters, or told from new perspectives.

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How Did These Become One Narrative?

Wright argues that Tanakh was created for a reason – to unite disparate groups into a single people with a (mythical) shared history and a shared Sacred Text, and to teach this people how to survive without a king, Army, or Nation State.

The Palace History was included, but it was subsumed into The People’s History. God rescued the people from Egypt, and helped them win many battles in the older story – No kings. But later in history there were kings, so how to explain this?

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Retroactively, The people were warned

A new Theodicy is invented, positing that Our God was the mightiest god, such that our defeats can’t be God’s fault. Therefore, defeats were OUR fault for pissing off God by not following his laws.

Some Prophetic traditions were rewritten to have always said, “See you didn’t do what God said” or “God told you kings were a bad idea and you didn’t listen.”

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1 Samuel 8: 10 - 19

And Shemuel related all the words of YHWH

to the people who were requesting a king from him;

he said:

This will be the rule of the king who will reign as king over you:

your sons he will take away,

setting them in his chariotry and among his riders,

so that they run ahead of his chariotry,

to make them commanders of thousands and commanders of fifties,

to plow his plowing and harvest his harvest,

and to make his battle weapons and his chariot weapons;

your daughters he will take away

as ointment-mixers, as cooks, and as bakers;

your fields, your vineyards, and your olive-groves, the best ones, he will take away

and give to his servants;

your sowing-seed and your vine-fruit he will tithe

and give to his officers and to his servants;

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1 Samuel 8: 10 - 19

your servants, your maids, your best young-men, and your donkeys, he will take away,

that they may do his work;

your flock he will tithe,

and you yourselves will be slaves for him.

And you will cry out on that day

because of your king whom you have chosen for yourselves,

but YHWH will not answer you on that day!

But the people refused to hearken to Shemuel’s voice; they said:

No!

Rather, let there be a king over us

so that we, we too may be like all the nations!

Let our king lead us

and go out before us

and fight battles for us!

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Wright on 1 Samuel 8: 10 - 19

This text parses out the modus operandi of ancient monarchies, which taxed property and conscripted bodies. The problem is not that the centralized state will eventually fail to live up to its potential; no, the mere establishment of the monarchy, and the social transformation that it sets in motion, already inflicts suffering on the nation. Long before the onslaught of imperial armies, conquest and exile will begin already at home when their own kings seize their sons for their armies, their daughters for the royal household, and their lands, vineyards, and olive orchards to remunerate his administration. Private slaves will now have to work for the palace, and indeed all will be bondservants to the throne. Today the people desperately want a king “that we may be like the other nations,” but when they get what they want, they will cry out to Yahweh.

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So, wow, this text is so insightful, so wise about how power becomes abusive.

And wow, did it ever call out for a rewrite for our times.

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הַשֹּׁאֲלִ֥ים מֵאִתּ֖וֹ מֶֽלֶךְ:

Asking of God a King

10. And Shemuel told them, “You have seen how nations have treated you, the stranger in their midst. You have witnessed how nations war and tax and slaughter and repress and how they have expelled your ancestors from their homes, generation after generation, in the name of nationalism. You yourselves have been oppressed by all of the nations of the world, nearly destroyed by aligning with Empires.”

 

And they said, “We must be a nation like every other nation, a people like every other people!”

 

11. And Shemuel told them:

“Listen, Israel: This will be your life in the nation you demand. Each generation will be sacrificed to war. Your sons and your daughters will be trained to be soldiers from the day they enter school. Your precious children will be taught to see others’ precious children as enemies. Your teens will be armed with weapons and sent out to control another people. They will witness crimes and be ordered to not talk; they will learn not to see evil, not to hear cries for justice. Their hearts and their souls will be wrapped up in violence, their spirits will bound tight in guilt.

 

12. Every part of your children’s futures will be built upon serving as the state’s hands; they will mount horses and be set one against another in the streets, their study of law will be turned to justify genocide, their genius will be welded into ever-more-deadly weaponry.

 

13. In your new nation you will arm your daughters, saying of them “Now you are Yael,” but your warring will in the end make them no more than the mother of Sisera, dreaming of her children’s violent victories while waiting for those who will never return.

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הַשֹּׁאֲלִ֥ים מֵאִתּ֖וֹ מֶֽלֶךְ:

Asking of God a King

14. All your work will go to fund a government built upon the lie of an empty land, founded in expulsion and confiscation. Your libraries rich with stolen books, your tables groaning with stolen foods, your wealthy rolling in lucre from the selling of land that was never theirs to sell will hollow out your litanies of tzedek tzedek tirdof until your prayers become the senseless grunts of the starving.

 

15. You will remember the language of Torah but forget what it has taught. Your holiness will be judged by how you treat the stranger in your midst and you will fail and you will fail. You will steal children, telling mothers, the child is dead. You will bulldoze homes, evict people even from caves and pretend you are building a nation. You will use trees as weapons to hide war crimes and pretend you have made forests. You will build laws that leave citizens crowded in remote areas with no clean water, no roads, no schools and pretend you are a democracy. Your people will terrorize Jews from other lands, burning their neighborhoods and beating them in the streets while you pretend to be in-gathering exiles. Your soldiers and your settlers will commit murder and arson and theft and you will dance with them in celebration of their crimes.

 

16. And so bitter will fall your dreams of cooperation, of the great meeting of the needs of all, of being a light, shining. You, a nation now like every other, will be seduced by the swell of strength, undone by your desire to control; all your wells of good intentions will be drained by your deceit, sweet water spilled out on the ground as the poison of power pulls saltwater into aquifers that will no longer sustain you.

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הַשֹּׁאֲלִ֥ים מֵאִתּ֖וֹ מֶֽלֶךְ:

Asking of God a King

17. Your sweat and your toil will be given over to the world’s wealthiest merchants of death; the sweet songs of your poets and your musicians will be only small salve for every way you are made complicit by your leaders’ debt to Empires.

 

18. The day will come when your government has grown rotten with corruption and you can no longer hear injustice, your hearts gone Pharoh; hardened by all you have done to become a nation like all others, you will willfully assent to destroying your own land, your own children, to satisfy the ego of your leaders. As your society collapses around you, as your people are killed in their homes and in their fields, you will cry out, Please, heal, please us, but the hearts of the world, hardened against you by your own violence, will not heed.

 

19. You plan to proclaim, See how we are blessed now, a nation like any other, a people like any other, our armies and our weapons, our greened desert and our shining cities! But your own sages have taught that what you call blessings are curses, are the seeds of your destruction, a destruction they have predicted again and again, each time ignored though every time correct. You will have traded your greatest treasure for a single box of bullets and now a nation like any other you too will fade and be unremembered as every new Empire lays new names over the old.

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I have no phone receiver to connect me to the other side,

but every day I speak to my beloveds through candle flame.

Every night, I speak to them through the dark before sleep.

I speak to them in the car when I am alone.

I speak to them when I walk beneath stars,

when I walk in the woods, when I walk in the rain.

It is possible to be with someone who is gone.

It is possible to feel what cannot be seen,

to sense what cannot be heard,

to be held by what cannot be touched.

It is possible for love to grow after death.

If there is a secret language, it is, perhaps, openness.

The way air lets light move through.

The way a window invites in the scent of grass.

The way sand receives the ocean,

then, rearranged, lets it pass.

A New Kind of Conversation

Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

It is possible to be with someone who is gone.

—Linda Gregg, “The Presence in Absence”

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Yitgadal veyitkadash shemey raba be’alma divra hiruty veyamlih malhutey behayeyhon uvyomeyhon uvhayey dehol beyt yisra’el ba’agala uvizman kariv ve’imru amen.

Yehey shemey raba mevarah le’alam ulalmey almaya.

Yitbarah veyistabah veyitpa’ar veyitromam veyitnasey veyit-hadar veyitaleh veyit-halal shemey dekudsha berih hu le’ela min kol birhata veshirata tushbehata venehemata da’amiran be’alma ve’imru amen.

Yehey shelama raba min shemaya vehayim Aleynu ve’al kol yisra’el ve’imru amen.

Oseh shalom bimromav hu ya’aseh shalom Aleynu ve’al kol yisra’el ve’al kol yishma’el ve’al kol yoshvey tevel ve’imru amen.

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Mourner’s Kaddish / Elliott batTzedek

So often am I lost,

yet through the pall, yet through the tarnish, show me the way back,

through my betrayals, my dismay, my heart’s leak, my mind’s sway,

eyes’ broken glow, groan of the soul—which convey all that isn’t real,

for every soul to These Hands careen. And let us say, amen.

Say you will show me the way back, my Rock, my Alarm. Lead the way, Oh my Yah

And yet in shock and yet in shame and yet in awe and yet to roam and yet to stay and yet right here and yet away and yet —“Halleluyah!” my heartbeat speaks, for You live in all this murk and too in the clear and too in our wreckage.

You are the mirror of our souls, let us say: amen

Life may harm me, rob me, ream me raw, try me, even slay me

Over all You will prevail. And let us say: Amen

Say You shall loan me a tomorrow, Say You shall loan another day to all who are called Yisrael and all called Yishmael and all called We and They, and let us say, Amen

12 Elul 5742 / 14 September 2024

Fringes: a feminist, non-zionist havurah

66 of 66

She is a boat, she is a light

High on a hill in dark of night.

She is a wave, she is the deep.

She is the dark where angels sleep.

When all is still and peace abides

She carries me to the other side.

She carries me, she carries me,

She carries me to the other side.

And though I walk through valleys deep,

And shadows chase me in my sleep,

On rocky cliffs I stand alone;

I have no name, I have no home.

With broken wings I reach to fly;

She carries me to the other side.

She carries me, she carries me,

She carries me to the other side.

A thousand arms, a thousand eyes,

A thousand ears to hear my cries.

She is the gate, she is the door;

She leads me through and back once more.

When day has dawned and death is nigh,

She carries me to the other side.

She carries me, she carries me,

She carries me to the other side.

She is the first, she is the last,

She is the future and the past.

Mother of all, of earth and sky,

She carries me to the other side.

She carries me, she carries me

She carries me to the other side.

She carries me, she carries me,

She carries me to the other side.

Adon Olam / She Carries Me by Jennifer Berezan

12 Elul 5742 / 14 September 2024