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SINCE 2007

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ALL

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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.

Elliott batTzedek

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הבשר והגוּף / The flesh and the body

Elliott batTzedek

It is one supposes, on some days, at some times, possible,

theologically speaking, to imagine a god who has

no body. God of Ideals. God of Spirit. God of Thought. God of

No Thing therefore God of Nothing. God, what a tragedy

that a human, all flesh and bone in her world of wood and

stone, water and earth, could be so disembodied herself

that she conceives a god without a body, without its hungers

and without its creaks, without its folds and its foldings,

without taste buds, without a pulse to quicken to pound

in the throat when the scent of the one she needs rules

over all sense. To love an idea can be quite quite

satisfying but only the body, beloved,

is holy, holy, holy.

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You Will Not Find Me

Kabir

Fringes: a feminist, non-zionist havurah

My shoulder is against yours.

You will not find me in the stupas,

not in Indian shrine rooms,

nor synagogues,

nor in cathedrals:

not in masses, nor kirtans,

not in legs winding around your own neck,

nor in eating nothing but vegetables,

When you really look for me,

you will see me instantly —

you will find me in the tiniest house of time.

Kabir says: Student, tell me, what is God?

God is the breath inside the breath.

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And I say: Be not curious about God,

For I who am curious about each am not curious about God,

(No array of terms can say how much I am at peace about God and about death.)

I hear and behold God in every object, yet understand God not in the least, Nor do I understand who there can be more wonderful than myself.

Why should I wish to see God better than this day?

I see something of God each hour of the twenty-four, and each moment then, In the faces of men and women I see God, and in my own face in the glass,

I find letters from God dropt in the street, and every one is sign'd by God’s name,

And I leave them where they are, for I know that wheresoe'er I go,

Others will punctually come for ever and ever.

from Song of Myself: 48

Walt Whitman

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Here I Am, Lord

Michael Chitwood

The ribbed black of the umbrella

is an argument for the existence of God,

that little shelter

we carry with us

and may forget

beside a chair

in a committee meeting

we did not especially want to attend.

What a beautiful word, "umbrella."

A shade to be opened.

Like a bat's wing, scalloped.

It shivers.

A drum head

beaten by the silver sticks

of rain,

and I do not have mine,

and so the rain showers me.

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Yo-Yo

Jane Ellen Glasser

If God is energy,

I sit in God's hand.

I ride a thread of desire—

my own—and not my own.

Longing spins me out.

There's genius in moving.

In dips and arcs I thrill

to the latitudes of air.

I love an unmapped country—

my spirit spooling away

from its body, dancing

at the end of a string.

Habit winds me home.

It is good to rest

in the ring of myself.

There's genius in stillness.

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self-portrait

David Whyte

Fringes: a feminist, non-zionist havurah

It doesn't interest me if there is one God or many gods,

I want to know if you belong or feel abandoned,

If you can know despair or see it in others.

I want to know if you are prepared to live in the world with its harsh need to change you.

If you can look back with firm eyes saying this is where I stand.

I want to know if you know how to melt into that fierce heat of living

falling toward the center of your longing.

I want to know if you are willing to live, day by day, with the consequence of love

and the bitter unwanted passion of your sure defeat.

I have heard, in that fierce embrace, even the gods speak of God.

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from The Tide

Denise Levertov

Fringes: a feminist, non-zionist havurah

How confidently the desires

of God are spoken of!

Perhaps God wants

something quite different.

Or nothing, nothing at all.

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from Holy the Firm

Annie Dillard

Fringes: a feminist, non-zionist havurah

Every day is a god, each day is a god, and holiness holds forth in time. I worship each god, I praise each day splintered down, splintered down and wrapped in time like a husk, a husk of many colors spreading, at dawn fast over the mountains split.

I wake in a god. I wake in arms holding my quilt, holding me as best they can inside my quilt.

I open my eyes. The god lifts from the water. His head fills the bay. He is Puget Sound, the Pacific, his breast rises from pastures, his fingers are firs, islands slide wet down his shoulders. Islands slip blue from his shoulders and glide over the water, the empty, lighted water like a stage.

Today’s god rises, his long eyes flecked in clouds. He flings his arms, spreading colors, he arches, cupping sky in his belly, he vaults, vaulting and spread, holding all and spread on me like skin.

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A Little Stone in the Middle of the Road, in Florida

Muriel Rukeyser

God

Is anything, even a little stone in the middle of the road, in

Florida.

Yesterday

Nancy, my friend, after long illness:

You know what can lift me up, take me right out of despair?

No, what?

Anything.

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Dear God

Alicia Ostriker

It used to be

I would fall to the floor and press my forehead to it

in moments of despair

I would say help me

help me

but listen

I am ok

but I just now found myself pressing my forehead

to the carpet of my stairs

about the waters in the flooded cities

poisoned by oilspill, chemicals, the dead

about the survivors forever traumatized

dear god

I am alive I am alive

help them

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Insha’Allah

Danusha

Laméris

I don’t know when it slipped into my speech

that soft word meaning, “if God wills it.”

Insha’Allah I will see you next summer.

The baby will come in spring, insha’Allah.

Insha’Allah this year we will have enough rain.

So many plans I’ve laid have unraveled

easily as braids beneath my mother’s quick fingers.

Every language must have a word for this. A word

our grandmothers uttered under their breath

as they pinned the whites, soaked in lemon,

hung them to dry in the sun, or peeled potatoes,

dropping the discarded skins into a bowl.

3 Sh’vat 5784 /13 January 2024

Our sons will return next month, insha’Allah.

Insha’Allah this war will end, soon. Insha’Allah

the rice will be enough to last through winter.

How lightly we learn to hold hope,

as if it were an animal that could turn around

and bite your hand. And still we carry it

the way a mother would, carefully,

from one day to the next.

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God’s Grief

Ellen Bass

Great parent

who must have started out

with such high hopes.

What magnitude of suffering,

the immensity of guilt,

the staggering despair.

A mind the size of the sun,

burning with longing,

a heart huge as a gray whale

breaching, streaming

seawater against the pale sky.

Man god or beast god,

god that breathes in every pleated leaf,

god of plutonium and penicillin, drunk

sleeping on the subway grate,

god of Joan of Arc, god of Crazy Horse,

Lady Day, bringing us to our knees,

god of Houdini with hands

like a river, of Einstein, regret

running thick in his veins,

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God’s Grief

Ellen Bass

god of Stalin, god of Somoza,

god of the long march,

the Trail of Tears,

the trains,

god of Allende and god of Tookie,

the strawberry picker, fire in his back,

god of midnight, god of winter,

god of rouged children sold

with a week’s lodging

and airfare to Thailand,

god in trouble, god at the end of his rope-

sleepless, helpless-

desperate god, frantic god, whale heart

lost in the shallows, beached

on the sand, parched, blistered, crushed

by gravity’s massive weight.

3 Sh’vat 5784 /13 January 2024

desperate god, frantic god, whale heart

lost in the shallows, beached

on the sand, parched, blistered, crushed

by gravity’s massive weight.

ALL

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call & Response

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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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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.

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3 Sh’vat 5784 /13 January 2024

When men were children, they thought of God as a

Father;

When men were slaves, they thought of God as a

Master;

When men were subjects, they thought of God as a

King.

But I am a woman, not a slave, not a subject,

not a child who longs for God as father or mother.

I might imagine God as teacher or friend, but those

Images,

like king, master, father or mother, are too small for

me now.

God is the force of motion and light in the universe;

God is the strength of life on our planet;

God is the power moving us to do good;

God is the source of love springing up in us.

God is far beyond what we can comprehend.

A Woman’s Meditation

Ruth F. Brin

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How to Pray While the World Burns

Hila Ratzabi

Go outside.

Find a patch of grass, sand, dirt.

Sit, kneel, place a hand or just

A finger to the soft earth.

Feel it pulse back.

Open your palms and divine

The words creased between.

Rub the specks of dirt

Between your fingers,

See how they cling to skin,

How they listen in their soft-rough way.

The earth will hold you better

Than God can.

God could not stop the bullets

Or the sale of weapons.

God could not block the open

Synagogue doors.

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How to Pray While the World Burns

Hila Ratzabi

But we keep saying, Shema,

Listen.

Israel.

Our God is One.

Singular.

Invisible.

Hiding in plain sight.

But listen, Israel, our God is beneath

Our feet, between

Our fingers, coursing

Through our veins.

Our God is trapped

In the poisoned grass,

Where the blood of our brothers cries out,

Where the ants heave centuries on their backs.

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How to Pray While the World Burns

Hila Ratzabi

Pray to the God who sharpened the tiger’s teeth,

Who stored the roar in its throat.

Pray to the God who gave you lungs and tongue

To sing and groan and hum.

I swear to you

When the leaf shivers in the wind

You have given it chills

From all its listening.

The earth hears your prayer.

There is nowhere for God to hide.

Get down on your knees and let

This precious earth soften for the weight of you.

You are held.

You are heard.

The wind pulls its blanket over your back,

Smooths the hair from your face,

Touches your cheek

With its cool, trembling hands.

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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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Alternate images of the Divine in Jewish Text

Such richness has been with us all along

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While post-exilic Judaism claims to have always been monotheistic

Other stories live on in our symbols, traditions, languages, & prayers

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Inside our Creation story

Tehom, Tohu, Tahamat, Tiamat - The original Serpent Goddess, the primordial ocean, all that was before anything came to be, is preserved in Genesis – tohu v’vohu – and encoded in the blessing of creation. Our liturgy connects us to a concept thousands of years old, and to a world of many different gods interacting.

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Exodus 25: 31-39

You shall make a lampstand of pure gold; the lampstand shall be made of hammered work; its base and its shaft, its cups, calyxes, and petals shall be of one piece.

Six branches shall issue from its sides; three branches from one side of the lampstand and three branches from the other side of the lampstand.

On one branch there shall be three cups shaped like almond-blossoms, each with calyx and petals, and on the next branch there shall be three cups shaped like almond-blossoms, each with calyx and petals; so for all six branches issuing from the lampstand.

And on the lampstand itself there shall be four cups shaped like almond blossoms, each with calyx and petals: a calyx, of one piece with it, under a pair of branches; and a calyx, of one piece with it, under the second pair of branches, and a calyx, of one piece with it, under the last pair of branches; so for all six branches issuing from the lampstand.

How well do you know the menorah?

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3 Sh’vat 5784 /13 January 2024

How well do you know the menorah?

vs

2nd temple menorah

Illustration of an Asherah from the side of large storage jar also showing illustration of “Yaweh and His Asherah”

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How well do you know the menorah?

Temple Menorah

by Mariano Shulman, 2001, Argentina

Hanukkah Lamp, Eastern Galicia or western Ukraine, 1752 or 1753.

Fray Juan Ricci, sketch of Menorah as described in Exodus ~1640

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How well do you know the menorah?

Ur

Early Dynastic IIIA period (2600-2500 BCE), a high point in the history of Sumerian culture.

Ask me about: Inanna and Her Wonderous Vulva

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Back-Talking Women

The exiles who returned to rebuild the Temple invented a monotheistic, priest-caste based religion that was in conflict with living traditions

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Back-Talking Women

Jeremiah 44: 17-19

“On the contrary,” the women said, we will do everything that we have vowed —to make offerings to the Queen of Heaven and to pour libations to her, as we used to do, we and our ancestors, our kings and our officials, in the towns of Judah and the streets of

Jerusalem. For then we had plenty to eat, we were well-off, and suffered no misfortune. But ever since we stopped making offerings to the Queen of Heaven and pouring libations to her, we have lacked everything, and we have been consumed by the sword and by famine. And when we make offerings to the Queen of Heaven and pour libations to her, is it without our husbands’ approval that we have made cakes in her likeness and poured libations to her?”

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God is All

Justin Lewis

all images are from mystical Jewish literature

God is all. God is an apple orchard. God is a beggar. God is the beginning. God is a breastfeeding mother. God is breath. God is concealed and totally unknown. God is clouds. God is crowns. God is the days of Creation. God is death. God is desire. God is an eagle. God is the earth. God is eyes. God is faces. God is fear. God is purple silk. God is fire. God is a flowing gushing stream. God is the Garden of Eden. God is gateways. God is a gazelle. God is holiday guests. God is the Holidays. God is Jerusalem. God is a lion. God is love. God is a matzah. God is a menorah. God is mirrors. God is the moon. God is a mountain of darkness. God is night. God is North, East, South, West. God is nothing. God is a nursing child. God is olive oil. God is the oldest of the old. God is a palace. God is peace. God is prayer. God is a rainbow. God is rivers of balsam. God is a rose. God is shadow. God is a shofar. God is a silkworm. God is silk. God is silver. God is skies. God is a snake. God is song. God is the soul of the soul. God is sparks. God is the sun. God is a tent. God is time. God is the Torah. God is the Tree of Life. God is voices. God is wine. God is wind. God is words.

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Blessing in a Time of

Violence

Jan

Richardson

Which is to say this blessing is always.

Which is to say there is no place this blessing does not long to cry out in lament, to weep its words in sorrow, to scream its lines in sacred rage.

Which is to say there is no day this blessing ceases to whisper into the ear of the dying, the despairing, the terrified.

Which is to say there is no moment this blessing refuses to sing itself into the heart of the hated and the hateful, the victim and the victimizer, with every last ounce of hope it has.

Which is to say there is none that can stop it, none that can halt its course, none that will still its cadence, none that will delay its rising, none that can keep it from springing forth from the mouths of us who hope, from the hands of us who act, from the hearts of us who love, from the feet of us who will not cease our stubborn, aching marching, marching,

until this blessing has spoken its final word, until this blessing has breathed its benediction in every place, in every tongue:

Peace.

Peace.

Peace.

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Blessing for the Brokenhearted / Jan Richardson

Let us agree

for now

that we will not say

the breaking

makes us stronger

or that it is better

to have this pain

than to have done

without this love.

Let us promise

we will not

tell ourselves

time will heal

the wound,

when every day

our waking

opens it anew.

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Perhaps for now

it can be enough

to simply marvel

at the mystery

of how a heart

so broken

can go on beating,

as if it were made

for precisely this—

as if it knows

the only cure for love

is more of it,

as if it sees

the heart’s sole remedy

for breaking

is to love still,

as if it trusts

that its own

persistent pulse

is the rhythm

of a blessing

we cannot

begin to fathom

but will save us

nonetheless.

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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

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Adon Olam / She Carries Me by Jennifer Berezan

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.

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Fringes: a feminist, non-zionist havurah

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