Over the years, I have made a personal practice of using meditation and mindfulness in my daily life. It helps keep me centered, helps me sleep better, helps me solve conundrums. I have studied Jewish Mindfulness with a colleague who runs a program called “Torah Trek” where we connect with our innermost selves and God while hiking in nature. I have participated in retreats with interfaith clergy, where we focus on issues of common concern and where the practice of “mindfulness” is used as a tool and resource to foster those same type of collegial and spiritual links. Through my years of mindfulness practice, I have learned that when I sit outside by myself for my morning coffee listening to the birds, or am by myself on my daily walks and hikes in nature, I don’t listen to music or podcasts, rather, I listen to the silence and to the sounds from nature around me, as well as to my innermost soul and heart.
I always feel God’s presence suffuse these moments: when I take the time to be “still” emotionally, listen to the sounds of nature, experience the awe of the natural world in all its beauty and majesty, I hear God’s voice speaking in my heart. It grounds me, nourishes me, and makes each day more meaningful.
Feeling God’s presence is not unusual for me. I have a deep and abiding faith. From the moment I was born, my mother sang the “bedtime Sh’ma” to me every single night before she put me to sleep:
The Sh’ma is a simple text. It is a declaration of faith. It reminds us of our connection to the Divine. It was my late mother and father who showed us by example what it meant to have a personal relationship with God. My relationship with God sustains me and nurtures me to this day. From the time I was born to this very day, I cannot go to sleep at night until I recite those words.
A few years ago, I was extremely moved when a friend gifted me with a beautiful, silver Sh’ma necklace. She didn’t know my connection to this prayer. She didn’t realize it represented a link to both God and to my parents who both died over 14 years ago. I put that necklace on and haven’t taken it off since. It symbolizes both my unwavering faith as well as my connection to my parents.
When I returned from my recent rejuvenating hiking/walking trip in Nova Scotia, I happened to look down and saw that my beautiful Sh’ma necklace had suddenly turned black with tarnish! Prior to the trip, the necklace had been perfectly shiny silver. I noticed this tarnish during a High Holy Day preparation seminar with colleagues: we were discussing crises of faith. In our spirit of trust and love, we were talking about difficult topics, painful feelings and questions that made us wonder, particularly in light of the ongoing war in Israel and increased antisemitism here in North America.
It was as if my necklace was suddenly mirroring the feelings reflected during our seminar. At that moment, I happened to look out the window, and the sky also darkened as if it were going to rain (and I know it doesn’t rain in Southern California during the summer – it was very unusual). Doesn’t each and every one of us sometimes have a feeling that our faith has become “tarnished” or “blackened” when we reach a challenging moment in our lives or enter “darkened skies or troubled waters”? Doesn’t each of us sometimes find it difficult to reach God when our burdens seem overbearing? How do we find a way to restore that luster to our faith? To refresh and renew our relationship with the Divine so that we can feel God’s presence shining brightly in our lives?
Just as we need to work on our relationships with those whom we love on an ongoing basis, so too our relationship with God also takes hard work. When we question and struggle with issues, we are engaging in dialogue with God. When we join with community in prayer, social action, study and celebration, we experience God’s presence. When we reach out to those in need: of healing, of support, of friendship, we are bringing God’s light into our lives as well as to the lives of others. As Jews, we believe that we will come to know God through our actions and deeds.
There is more: as I find my daily mindfulness experiences and my connection with God restorative and reaffirming, the Jewish calendar also provides us with many opportunities for something similar as we begin to prepare for the upcoming Days of Awe. (Shabbat, of course in and of itself is the quintessential Jewish mindfulness experience each week). This Shabbat, however, begins a special period of time leading up to the Days of Awe. It even has a special name: Shabbat Nachamu – Shabbat of Consolation. The name is derived from the opening words of the Haftarah for this week, Isaiah 40:1-26. This Haftarah speaks of comforting or consoling the Jewish people for their suffering after their exile from the land of Israel and the devastation and loss they experienced. This is the first of seven special Haftarot of Consolation we read between Tisha B’Av (which began this past Wednesday) and Rosh Hashanah.
The prophet Isaiah speaks words of solace to the Israelites after their suffering in exile, reminding them that despite their difficulties, God’s compassion will prevail. The notion of being comforted amidst turmoil, and discovering a spark of hope in the darkness, serves as inspiration for us today, as we try to navigate the complexity of the situation in Israel, here at home, and within our own lives as individuals.
As we count down these seven weeks toward the High Holy Days, it is my hope that we can turn to the notion of mindfullness as we prepare for this special time on our Jewish calendar. We can turn inward to hear our innermost selves, upward toward the Divine, and out to our own community and those around us to discover renewed faith in the work we do, in the friendships we share, in the trust we have built and in God who gives us life and strength.
As we begin this Shabbat Nachamu, this Shabbat of Consolation, my Sh’ma necklace is now shiny and silver once again.
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