Release, Reset, Rejoice...in Small things with Great Love

Tell the truth; there was just a little bit of rejoicing in your heart, maybe that little fluttery feeling in your stomach, when you heard the news; after all these months, finally he got Covid. What you’ve been wishing for all along. 

Okay, let me speak for myself. It’s what happened to me. But maybe it happened to you, too.

Either way--perish the thought!!

As an observant Jew (I do “observe” and I am Jewish)---and one who’s becoming a rabbi no less---I shouldn’t admit to such an awful thing. I should wish only good for everyone, even my worst enemies. Turn my worries (and my rage) into blessings, as Rabbi Shefa Gold says. Like in Fiddler on the Roof, the question to the rabbi: “Is there a proper blessing for the Tzar?” 

What would be a proper blessing for this one? Keeping him far away from us doesn’t seem sufficient. 

Anyway, truth be told, it was a mistake to be happy even for a moment; it didn’t take long for this bit of news to get thrown onto the heap of the nightmare we’ve been living through: over 200,000 deaths in the U.S. alone (remember when we didn’t believe it would get to that number?); the manipulation of the CDC; the rush to push a vaccine through and to fill Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s position in the Supreme Court; voter suppression….Oh, did I mention the fires?  

Still, didn’t you get more than a little bit of joy hearing about the fly that landed on Pence’s head during the debate and wouldn’t leave--the fly there’s been much talk of, just as Pence was denying the existence of systemic racism. It stayed there for a full two minutes!!! What was that about?? On justthenews.com, in an article by Joseph Curl, he wrote, “Throughout the history of Western painting, imagery of flies can symbolize death, rot, decay, corruption and “‘painting’s power to deceive the eye.’”

If you’ve read my blog before, you know how I like symbols. Talk about gifts from God! (Unlike the experimental drug they gave the president in the hospital! You did hear him say that, right?)

But it still feels terribly overwhelming and insurmountable. We should be doing so much more than we are--we should be doing great things! To change the world!

Mother Teresa says we can do no great things, only small things with great love. I like her. Did she also talk about joy? 

In Judaism, we are, in fact, “commanded” to be joyful, especially in this season--even when our hearts lie panting on the floor (Fiddler on the Roof again). Even as we ask, “Do we even have the right to be joyful at such a time?” 

But I agree that it is our duty. We can’t go on when our hearts lie panting on the floor. We affect those around us. Like the wave and smile my friend gets from her child’s school bus driver years after her daughter has grown up. Small things, great love.

How do we find joy (re-joyce) again?

Here’s my formula: Release, Reset, Rejoice. (I probably didn’t make it up.)

In order to find joy again, we must release something, which is like hitting a reset button. 

Yom Kippur is supposed to be a joyful holiday, as well as Sukkot, because we know ahead of time that we will be released from our vows and “sins” by the end and we get a fresh start. We may think about death a lot, but that’s only a way of getting us to appreciate life.

But I didn’t start out joyful at all this Yom Kippur. I don’t think many of us did, given the circumstances. 

I woke up at 7:30, with three hours---three hours!!--before services would begin, and no place to go! Just from my bedroom to my living room. No rushing around getting dressed, leaving early for a long walk to shul, which always brought me joy.  

I felt sad, just like I do every Shabbos these days, and I started to do what I’ve been doing many Shabboses since Covid hit, things traditionally thought of as forbidden because they are work. 

I went to my kitchen and started cleaning. First, the dishes, then I took apart the stove and scrubbed all its pieces. Next, I went to the bathroom and did some deep cleaning there. 

I did this because I was sad and I needed something productive to do in order to feel better. As soon as I started, I wondered how I could make this work holy on one of the holiest of Jewish holidays. 

So I started to talk---to myself? To “God?” 

I knew that I needed to find a way into prayer for the day, and I had rage and loss and sorrow and helplessness and doubt to release. I needed to cry and no one was around to hear me, and I needed someone to talk to and hear me. 

I admitted that I felt like a fraud--what did cleaning my house have to do with prayer? What if I couldn’t connect to prayer today? I asked for help, for me and for my fellow earthlings. To fix what we’ve messed up. To not give up hope. 

As I was cleaning the physical space around me, and my tears were pouring out, it started to feel like I was cleaning my inner space as well. Finally, I was ready to set the table and make it look beautiful for the evening. If home was the focus here, I needed to make it look and feel purified. 

Then I was ready to davven. 

I made a commitment in that moment, to throw myself into the davvening and really pray on this day.

And I did. In whatever position I wanted: in a chair, on the floor, on my back, on my stomach, sprawled out, singing as loudly as I could along with the voices on the internet, not worrying about it if it was the right time, or what others would think, for six hours straight. 

By the end, I felt purified. I had done the work required of the day. And it had been cleansing and joyful. I had released, reset and rejoiced. It had been a small thing, perhaps, but I did it with great love.

The joy continued then and through the first days of Sukkot, and then “the news” came into my life again. That news that got piled on to the heap of the nightmare we’re living now. And my blood boiled. 

I need another Release, Reset, Rejoice now.

Good thing I get to sing again tomorrow. It’s a small thing I can do with great love.