Blogging the Holidays

For the past calendar year, I have been documenting how I prepared for, planned and celebrated the entire Jewish holiday cycle, from Rosh haShanah to Shavu'ot. I wanted to note down what went into the execution of each chag and consider what worked (or not!) Maintaining a record of how my family and I lived through sacred time would help me hone our family traditions. I also challenged myself to learn a new craft, skill or recipe as we journeyed through the cycle.

Jewish time is neither linear nor cyclical but merges elements of both. Jewish time a spiral; whether through the course of discreet units of time (a week, a month, a year or beyond), the personal trajectory of an individual life or the redemptive arc of history. There is a beginning and end but also repeated encounters we get to layer experiences on week after week, year after year or even eon after eon. How we may have experienced a Rosh haShanah in our childhood is different than how we will live through the Jewish New Year through middle age or our silver years, with or without children, inside or outside of Jewish community. This cyclical rhythm is rich; it allows us to both feel safe and adventurous; anchoring ourselves onto familiar territory as well as pushing ourselves to explore the novel. Therein lies both our spiritual growth and cultural continuity. 

My theory is that the Jewish calendar is a symbolic microcosm of our lives and our history. We are born, learn to individuate and gain independence, mature into compassionate wisdom before leaving this world. Likewise, there are elements of the Rosenzweigian 'creation-revelation-redemption' arc in the calendar year, where we find ourselves journeying from particularism to universalism; from the immediate story of ourselves and the Jewish people, to the master story of the human race in relationship to the Divine. 

While it is traditional to see the start point of the Jewish Year on the first of Tishrey (Rosh haShanah), the High Holiday season already plunges us into the redemptive universalism of the human story. (I will get to that later). I will start blogging the Holidays from Rosh haShanah onwards, but for the sake of my 'time map' of the year, I'd actually start us off at Hanukkah. 

Imagine you divide the year into four (more or less) equal quarters... 

The first quarter, from Kislev (Hanukkah) to Nisan (Pesach/Passover), focuses on the particularistic aspects of Judaism. Hanukkah, Purim and Pesach all document our survival from genocidal villains (Antiochus Epiphanes, Haman and Pharaoh, respectively) who wish to eliminate Jewish culture, religion and survival. So too do we witness the rise of three heroes (Judah Maccabee, Queen Esther and Moses) to thwart these evil schemes. The first quarter of the year is all about Judaism for ourselves; guaranteeing our survival and continuity, building our identity, resisting our oppressors. One can argue that this is the early phase in a person's development: they rebel, assert themselves and find themselves clamoring for independence. This individuation is a necessary step for personal growth; both in the individual and the collective. During this time, the calendar invites us to lean into our Jewishness and our sense of pride. We Jews are a particular people with a universal mission, and we pour the sacred intention of our universalism into the boundaried vessels of the particular. We start, not unlike the Creation story, by lighting up the darkness as we kindle our hanukkiyot (Hanukkah menorahs) during the convergence of the winter solstice (shortest day) with the darkest phase of the moon (Rosh Chodesh Tevet) and start growing our light on our terms. 

The second quarter, from Nisan (Pesach) to Sivan (Shavu'ot) is a journey of balancing particularism with universalism. Our redemption from Egypt was not just about personal or even collective national liberation; it is template for global liberation... just not quite yet. The arc bends from 'Avadim Hayinu' ('we were slaves in Egypt') to 'Ga'al Yisrael' (Redeemer of Israel) to 'L'shanah ha'ba'ah birushalayim' (next year in Jerusalem, in the Messianic Age). We journey from the narrow straights to the expansive message of Torah given on Mt. Sinai and commemorated at Shavu'ot. As the Midrash recounts, the Torah wasn't given in any particular country so that only one people lay claim to it; instead it was 'hefker', given freely in unbounded land, so that it was accessible for all. The fulcrum of this balancing act culminates after the Omer counting into Shavu'ot where we perfectly marry particularism (we are a unique people with a unique covenant) with universalism (but any one can seek to become part of the covenant) through the story of Ruth. Marriage is indeed the appropriate metaphor; we have symbolically come of age and wish to settle down and lead a productive life. God 'married' the Jewish people at Mt. Sinai. Winter has pased and spring has come; the earth is coming alive with fecund joy; so too are we ready to consummate our love and bring new life - and new souls - into the world.

The third quarter extends from Sivan to Tishrey, where we grow and mature through trauma, loss, return and contemplation. We journey through Tisha b'Av, the destruction of the Temple, reflecting on the consequence of that Torah from Shavu'ot not being taken to heart, when human relationships break down. This is the lowest point of our year; the most sad and destabilizing. But then we gather again and continue our journey to holiness; we are wiser, our spirit more abundant. These are the blessings of (late) middle age, where we have found a hard-won stability and generosity of spirit. This is where the universalist impulse gains the upper hand and continues to gather momentum. At Rosh haShanah, there are no devious villains save from our own 'yetzer ha'ra', evil inclination. We proclaim the sovereignty of the Divine over all creation, 'melech al kol ha'aretz'. Interestingly - contrary to popular practice - Rosh haShanah and Yom Kippur are the least Jewish of Jewish holidays. We go full throttle with our mission to be a light unto the nations. Our concern is the state of the human soul and condition, the redemption of the world entire. Our identity as Jews, which we had built up through resilience and relationship, now comes to full fruition. This culminates not just in the paradox of our spiritual death and (re)birth on Yom Kippur, but in the Messianic aspirations of Sukkot. Pure, untrammeled, abundant joy, in a garden of plenty, through being inscribed and sealed in the book of life. Sukkot is a template of the world as it should be, mirrored in the world as it is. This is the end of history. 

And then, after Simchat Torah, we slip into the fourth quarter; the quietude of Cheshvan, where we get a stop and a break; a reset from the crescendo of the calendar year and a slipping into fall and winter. Then, weeks later, the cycle begins again as we touch the flame to the wick of our first Hanukkah light. 

Interpreting the calendar this way has been eye-opening. It helps me understand the rhythms of the calendar in much more thorough and intuitive ways. It invites us to toggle and experiment with these different modes and intensities. It reminds us to focus on growth as we revisit the familiar and comfortable. Judaism is a householder religion that grounds us in the world as is; but it is also the province of dreamers and mystics that dream of what the world can be. There is nothing wrong with doing both and adding layer of meaning year after year. 

As I blog through the holidays, I hope to give a glimpse of the sublime as well as an account of the sanctified mundane. I will talk about the big ideas and the small practices that bring them to life. You are so very welcome to come along for the ride.