Over the past few months, I’ve participated in a new ritual to welcome Rosh Chodesh, the celebration of the new month. I stand (virtually) at the Kotel, the Western Wall, in Jerusalem. I pull up the Kotel livestream on my computer, recite the blessing and a prayer for the new month.
Early this morning I felt a hesitation to turn on the feed. I wasn’t quite ready for what the new month was offering. Our tradition teaches, “as one enters the month of Adar, we increase our joy.” Over the past few weeks, like all of us, I’ve carried a heaviness within my heart. I’ve let out deep exhales of relief watching the embraces of released hostages and their families. I’ve wept tears from the depths of my being as our people were returned home and laid to rest. As a people we’ve experienced deep pain and brokenness. And now, Jewish time is inviting us to increase our joy. I took a few deep breaths. I needed the extra moments of quiet searching before entering that sacred space.
The blueness of the Jerusalem sky took over my screen. The golden light kissed the ancient stones, revealing folded-up prayers hidden in the crevices. I joined the murmur of voices and recited the blessing for the month of Adar. I felt the side of my mouth curl upwards, and a smile appeared. My heart still beat with heaviness, but holiness mingled with the brokenness.
The Jerusalem light that danced along the wall reminded me of a beautiful teaching from Talmud, Ketubot 17a:
“If a funeral procession and a wedding procession arrive simultaneously at an intersection, the funeral procession must yield to the wedding procession.” Our tradition teaches us that light and darkness, joy and pain, wholeness and brokenness live simultaneously within us and among us. This coexistence creates a sense of balance even when one feeling is more pronounced. The sages, in their wisdom teach, we yield to the joy. It doesn’t say we brush off the darkness, rather, we yield. We acknowledge that we have the capacity to hold within our hearts all of the emotions, experiences and moments that make us who we are.
In our Torah portion this week, Terumah, God tells Moses to instruct the people of Israel, to bring terumot, offerings, to construct the sanctuary for God to dwell among them. The mystics point out that the Torah says, dwell “among them,” not “in it.” God does not live within the Mishkan, but rather in the hearts of the builders. Our hearts have the capacity to hold the spirit of the Divine.
Tonight, we will enter our mishkan, our sanctuary, a sacred space that holds within it joy, loss, festivity and remembrance. We will celebrate our Temple Beth El Sisterhood. We will honor the women whose legacy of dedication has created fertile soil for our Sisterhood to blossom. We will honor the women who have accepted the torch of leadership and continue the strong chain of tradition. Our mishkan, sanctuary, is a living testament to all of you, whose hearts are moved, to offer your terumot, gifts of love, time and energy to strengthen our family and participate in our vibrant community.
Tonight, as you enter Temple, you will see two tables. In the lobby you will see the faces of Shlomo Mansour, Ohad Yahalomi, Tsachi Idan, Itzik Elgarat, Oded Lifshitz, Shiri Bibas, Ariel Bibas and Kfir Bibas, all of whom have been returned to Israel to be laid to rest. You are invited to light candles, honor their memory, and hold them in your heart. As you walk towards the sanctuary, you are invited to yield. May the warm embraces of our returned Israeli brothers and sisters and their families fill your heart with joy.
As we enter the month of Adar, may we expand our hearts and create space for joy.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Laila Haas
