Dear Friends,
The month of Tammuz is here – chodesh tov! Summer camp has begun, the summer solstice has just passed, and it is so, so ridiculously hot. As many of us look to slightly more relaxed schedules, an approaching vacation, or just a memory of what it meant to be an unprogrammed kid during a 20th century summer, I want to share a sort of fun text from the Talmud about how God spends their day (Metaphorically? Actually? Mythically?). The ancient rabbis debate this, but here’s the general schedule as laid out in tractate Avodah Zarah 3a:
3 hours: Study Torah
3 hours: Judge humanity, get so upset about how messed up things are to nearly reach the brink of another great flood, and then shift to a place of mercy
3 hours: Sustain the entire world and all of its creatures – even the eggs of lice 🙃
3 hours: Play with the Leviathan, a gigantic mythical sea monster
This is likely pretty different from how we typically think of the Divine, but there might be some inspiration we can get from it. Making space for study and play, for judgment and mercy, for taking care of others and taking care of ourselves. Curious how your summer schedule compares to the way the ancient rabbis imagined God’s.
***
A few weeks ago, in late May, I’d planned to share some reflections on the weekly parsha – Behar – until current events made it pretty challenging to anything but focus on them. It’s been a month, though, so I want to take a moment to come back to an important message for me and our community, rooted in the parsha.
Behar teaches us about the mitzvah of shmita – a sabbatical year. After working the land for six years, we’re commanded to let it rest. We’re supposed to have faith that what we’ve done over the years will be enough to sustain us, and that temporary release of control is part of a sacred rhythm.
I’m moved by the words of Rabbi Danielle Stillman, a fellow RRC grad and colleague, on the implications of the parsha. “What will we do with our feeling of being out of control? Will we cast blame on each other, will we give up and stop taking responsibility, will we try to exert our will in every instance?” Instead, the Torah invites us to prepare thoughtfully, to do the hard and faithful work in advance, and then to release.
This is a very live parsha for our community right now: In January, after nine and a half years at Hill Havurah, I’ll be taking a six month sabbatical. I plan to immerse in deep study, in music and art, and in taking time to breathe with my family – to replenish and nourish as a rabbi and a human, so I can return better equipped to serve.
We’ve already started preparing – there are truly amazing people who will step into rabbinic leadership while I’m away, and over the coming months, we’ll build strong supports with our staff and lay leaders to maintain our community spiritually, pastorally, ritually, and connectively.
I’m excited to return with new learning and new perspective. And I’m also really grateful to have this opportunity to observe this mitzvah of shmitah.
Rabbi Stillman’s words from above continue: “Can we work to remember to try to align ourselves with the holy nature of the land—which demands rest rather than constant effort, which asks for faith that there will be a blessing of abundance, that points us toward the mitzvot right in front of us, many of which reiterate ethical behaviors toward our fellow humans.”
We’re not alone, we’re not in control, and we aren’t powerless either.
May this Shabbat be one of peace, interconnection, and release.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Hannah