REALLY Late (with Push-ups): Ha’azinu and Yom Kippur

Yom Kippur came “really early” this year (for those not in on the joke, Jewish holidays are neither early nor late if you see them independently of the Gregorian calendar, but that calendar rules the human world so much that it’s hard for us to separate the two—kind of the way so many people refer to Chanukah as the “Jewish Christmas,” and if you know anything about Judaism, there is no connection!!).

Where was I?

I was really late, not only this week but even today, in sitting down to write my blog. In fact, I didn’t know if I’d get to it all, what with Yom Kippur being just yesterday and basically co-opting the entire week for those of us who observe it. But I surprised myself at the last minute after Rosh Hashanah, so here I am again—REALLY late.

But, surprise! Here I am!

I’m exhausted (with no migraine—yay!), and reflecting on Yom Kippur yesterday and what a wonderful day it was for me. I almost didn’t want to share that because it felt a little like bragging when so many people are still online for services, which feels especially hard for the High Holy Days. It’s yet another reminder that we are still…still, still, still…

But I’m going to share my experience anyway.

I was in Central Park with a group of about 40 people, the scary chance of rain and thunderstorms disappeared, and the weather was perfect in the end: not 88 degrees like the day before, only 72, with a nice breeze.

The theme for the holiday in this group was “Healing,” and a lot of healing did go on for me.

While last year I spent the day on my living room floor with my tallis/prayer shawl and a migraine, listening to and praying along with beautiful services, this year there was no migraine, and I spent much of the day under my tallis on the ground under tall trees and hearing the voices of fellow pray-ers singing with me. I didn’t worry about whether I was “supposed to” be standing or sitting; I just followed my heart and my body and what they needed at the moment. I even got to lead some prayers for the group. It couldn’t have been more perfect.

While last year I was just beginning a year’s break from rabbinical school classes, I am now re-entering classes for my last stretch and have been through a year of personal growth in terms of my studies and creativity, following my heart instead of teachers’ directives.

Moses just recited his last speech in the form of a poem to the Israelites this week in Ha’azinu. At the end he reminds the people to take heed and teach the poem to future generations, for this is what will get them through.

This is in no small thing for them, he says, but their very life.

Then God tells him to go up to the mountain where he will be able to see the land he will not be allowed to enter, and there he will die.

It is Moses’ very life we’re talking about.

It was not lost on me that we read this parsha during the same week as Yom Kippur, when we are enjoined to confess our sins, ask forgiveness in the most serious way possible, pray all day and fast in repentance; we pray for the world and ourselves.

We pray for the world and our very lives.

Yesterday, in the midst of this serious prayer, during a standing prayer we call the Amidah, people were invited to go off by themselves for quiet contemplation.

What did my husband do? He started a push-up competition in the grass with his friend.

I was standing with my friend, having a beautiful moment of prayer with her, when she spied my husband out of the corner of her eye and indicated quietly that I should take a look.

Like a little boy who couldn’t connect to prayer, there he was doing something that might have embarrassed someone else—or my younger self—but frankly I found it all pretty hilarious at this point in my life and marriage. I’ve learned to love and accept him for who he is (including his little-boy parts) and to know that he is not a reflection of me.

Also, I believe that a little bit of irreverence was the perfect medicine for all the seriousness of the day.

It’s been a hard year. And we will all die, like Moses, but under different circumstances. Most likely, God will not be giving us as much advance notice as he did Moses.

In the meantime, we keep praying, and doing, and praying.

And my husband and his friend reminded me that, while we’re still alive, we have to keep playing and laughing and connecting with our friends to get us through.

A little irreverence—and a little push-up competition—might not be such a bad idea when we’re in the middle of praying for our lives.