L'Shana Tova 5781

According to Google Maps, it is exactly 1 mile from our house on Beckman Drive to Temple Beth-EL (z"l) on Bellmore  Road. A mile sounded  like a long  walk when I was a kid, but it really wasn't. We didn't walk on Shabbat, but we did on the High Holy Days of Rosh HaShannah and Yom Kippur. I've written about this before, so I won't repeat the warning about new shoes. 

According to Google Maps, we were exactly 3 miles from  shul. I rarely walked even on the High Holy Days, but the kids occasionally did. But  now, in this house, I am back to 1 mile from shul, and on occasion,I walk. I've even walked with my brother one year. But this year, my brother isn't coming here because, the wise fellow he is, he is not getting on a plane  and frankly, I don't blame him. Services are via Zoom, and he will join from his home in Pennsylvania. I even sent him a Machzor so he can feel like it's almost regular. Which it is not. The only walking to shul I'll be doing is from one room in my house to another. 

I am not looking forward to the Yamim Nora'im, the Days of Awe, as they are often called. My heart, not to mention my brain, isn't engaged yet. I am going through all my usual prep for the holy days, but it seems empty, as though the confrontation with my past year has already been sucked out of me. 

Suddenly deciding to retire last March, followed by 4 glorious weeks of self-quarantine so I could be the nanny for a few weeks, was a rather intense but abstract period of transition for me. I did a lot of thinking during those weeks, trying to figure out who I was versus who I wanted to be going forward. I had lots of questions for myself: some I could answer; others I had to think about for a while. So I did.

But now, as Rosh HaShannah is rapidly approaching, I find I am asking myself the usual end o'year questions like what could I have done better? Who did I piss off and need to apologize to?  Was there anything that I did that made me disappointed in myself or my reactions?  None of these are easy questions for anyone to answer, but they must be answered honestly.

I suspect I am one of the few who did not mind the lockdown or isolation. I think I needed the time to be quiet both inside and out. (Okay, peeps...stop laughing....I hear you from here.) And I think there has been a marked change in me...or at least some people tell me I am very different from the person they knew before March 20th, 2020. Part of me doesn't feel any different, but another part feels like an entirely different person. I think I'm okay with that. Whatever the genesis, I am thankful for the time alone. 

Although the kiddos will be here for First Night/Shabbat dinner on Friday, I imagine I will be davening alone on Rosh HaShannah. I struggle with the question where to daven. I still attend morning minyan almost every day...but instead of popping over to shul, I am at my desk. But I want something different for Rosh HaShannah. Do I take the laptop outside and daven on the mirpeset (little deck) or do I bring the spare Mac down and daven in the dining room? I need to make this different, even though it is so different I can't stand it. 

How we all adapt to the new reality is a test of strength and character. Every adaptation will be different. Each person will have to find a new comfort niche. Some may be more successful than others, and some may find a different level of comfort in the new process. In so many ways, this is like grieving...which we are all doing. No one can tell you how to grieve, just as no one can tell you how to find your own zone of kavanah. None of this is easy.

But maybe that has to be the point. Maybe the new discomfort will provide the impetus to grow? Setting aside beloved traditions will be hard; creating new ones will be interesting. We have no idea how long we will need those new ones, and whether or not they are permanent changes. We will all chafe a bit at the changes.

Maybe, it's like the shoes I wrote about in my first Rosh HaShannah post back in September of 2010, a decade ago:


 

When I was a kid, the High Holidays always meant a couple of new dresses and a pair of shoes that were never broken-in enough for the mile walk to shul. The first day of the holiday was synonymous with heel blisters. Despite that, I really loved the walk, though. I loved to stop on the bridge over the parkway and count cars with my dad and brother. It was as much a part of the ritual of Rosh HaShannah as the sneezing from the goldenrod that grew everywhere. You walked with your family, even if your best friend’s family was walking 10 feet ahead of you, and somehow, you didn’t mind so much.   


This year, the new discomfort for many of us will be walking alone...from the bedroom to whatever room we will sit in to pray as a Zoom Community. On the walk, however brief, we all remember what the old way was like...and we will tentatively embrace the new way because that's all we have at the moment. 

And who knows? Maybe we will all grow a little wiser for the experience. 

Wishing those who observe a L'shana tova u'metuka....may you have a sweet New Year. 

The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Week

Buy local honey for dipping.

Honey grown in your area is good for what ails you.