rabbi ari lev: Teshuva of the Body
Rosh Hoshannah 5777
October 4, 2016
Good Morning, Shana Tova!
How many of you need a bit of a stretch. Stand up – reach out your arms. Take a deep breath. Let out a sigh. Let’s do that again. Now find a comfortable way to stand or sit.
I am curious, how would you describe the work of Rosh Hashanah?
What parts of your selves does it involve?
Traditionally, I think of teshuva as a metaphysical process. It involves thinking and listening and talking. It is work of the heart, mind and soul. Medieval philosopher Maimonides, teaches one of the key steps of teshuva is “resolving in your heart to do things differently.” As if to say, you can think and feel your way to personal transformation.
But what if teshuva, what if the work of changing our ways, of turning towards our best selves, is not entirely, or even primarily a cognitive process? Could teshuva also be a process of embodiment? Is there wisdom and healing that we cannot think our way through? If so, what is the posture of teshuva?
OK, try this for a moment:
slump down in your chair, curl over your shoulders, make an angry face and clench your fists.
Now say out loud – “I am openhearted and I want to build intimacy.” How did that feel?
Now, sit up, get comfortable, take a deep breath, relax your neck, and try saying those words again,
“I am openhearted and I want to build intimacy.”
How did you feel this time?
80% of our communication happens through our body language;
both the way we communicate to other people and to ourselves.
We can say that we want to change, but until we embody it,
we will not experience the transformation we long for.
This truth is embedded within this morning's Torah reading as well.
Let's review the story in slow motion.
Abraham hears the voice of God call out to him. He responds, Hineini, here I am. I am willing.
Abraham wakes up early in the morning and takes his beloved son Isaac and two servants on a journey up a mountain to make a sacrifice.
Abraham and Isaac leave their two servants at the base of the mountain and head off alone.
Isaac looks to Abraham and says,
“Father, here are the firestone and the wood; but where is the sheep for the burnt offering?”
Abraham does not answer.
The silence is potent.
For a moment imagine the tension in their faces, the clenching of their stomachs, the fear on Isaac’s brow.
Abraham and Isaac continue up the mountain.
Isaac lies down on the altar.
Abraham binds Isaac to the altar.
Isaac stares upward at his father.
Abraham lifts his arm with the knife in his hand.
The ram is about to emerge from the thicket.
Isaac is terrified.
Abraham is terrified.
Hold this image in your mind – I want to press pause here. Now lets layer another image onto this moment, an image that comes from a midrash, an ancient story.
A midrash teaches us that in this very moment angels are hovering over Abraham, witnessing the horrible events about to ensue – and they start to weep.
They cry and cry, and their tears fall into Isaac’s eyes.
When the angel's tears fall into Isaac’s eyes, they do not blind him,
but they leave an impression, v’hayu reshumot btoch einav.
Having survived this trauma, Isaac ages and overtime Isaac loses his eyesight.
Isaac’s eyes encode the experience of the Akeidah.
Isaac’s eyes remember the trauma.
We have two images: The first of Abraham holding the knife in midair above Isaac on the altar
and second, the image of the angels above, crying, and their tears falling into Isaac's eyes.
This is a painful moment. A moment of trauma. A moment Isaac's body remembers.
How do we do teshuva for the physical transgressions of our bodies? For sitting in front of the computer for too many hours and the repetitive stress injuries that follow? For depriving our bodies of food or binge eating? For hating parts of our bodies because they are too fat, or too wrinkled or too Jewish? For hitting our child in a moment of exhaustion? And how do we make teshuva for the trauma our bodies have continued to hold? For being victims of abuse, for surviving assault?
For all different reasons, we have become distanced from our bodies, and the lights of our souls have been dimmed.
Please take a moment to thank your body for this distance; it reflects your body’s desire to protect itself from pain and trauma; it is a sign of love.
The gift of Rosh Hashanah is a world created anew, restored to wholeness. And this also applies to our bodies. Now let's think about how we can move through this distance towards greater wholeness and intimacy.
There is a concept in the laws of kashrut, pertaining to keeping one’s kitchen kosher called – k’vol’o, kach polto –
that a substance is released the same way it was absorbed.
This process describes the different methods we might use to kasher our kitchen utensils, and how we can determine the appropriate method to make the objects kosher.
For example, a pot that has been used on a stovetop can be kashered by dunking it in boiling water.
While a metal pan used for baking in the oven must be put in the oven at high heat for 30 minutes.
K’vol’o, kach polto –
just as heat is transmitted, so too it must be released.
BREATH
The same applies to human beings and healing.
We must engage all of the parts of ourselves that were involved at the time of emotional or physical injury.
Hurt and heartache are stored in body, as well as in our hearts and minds.
Healing cannot only be a cognitive process.
We might THINK we have moved on, but our bodies indicate otherwise.
Take a moment in your chair to recall a difficult experience from the past year, or perhaps from deeper in your personal history.
Can you connect that experience to a point in your body?
To pain in your lower back, to an upset stomach, to a stiff neck?
Your body has wisdom and it is constantly communicating with you.
Our bodies have an incredible ability to heal. It is genetically encoded in us – take a cut for example.
The skin and tissue instinctively know how to repair themselves.
This is also true of deeper, more emotional wounds.
While the mind can play games, the body tells the truth.
Recent studies in the field of neuroscience show that our intelligence lies not just in the brain, but in the body as a whole.
The heart and the stomach process information.
They are able to learn, remember, and make functional decisions independent of the brain.
This is scientific proof that our bodies remember.
Just like Isaac’s eyes.
They recall the experience of the Akeidah, the fear and uncertainty of the journey up the mountain, the broken trust of their father, the miracle of the ram.
Throughout the month of Elul, and particularly during the 10 days of Teshuva between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, we focus our attention on cheshbon HaNefesh, a deep inner searching.
Most often we take notice of habits we want to change and relationships we want to mend.
But change, transformation, teshuva, is really hard.
We resolve in our minds to do things differently.
And yet under pressure, we do what is familiar.
To cope, we develop habits, ways of being that protect our sense of dignity and our sense of safety.
Rosh Hashanah is a teshuva booster shot.
It reignites our motivation to heal, individually and collectively,
so that we can connect from a place of wholeness, and live from a place of maximum possibility.
Healing restores our sense of shlemut,
the very blessing we offer someone who is ill.
We say Refuah Shlemah – may you experience a complete healing.
And in this very blessing we offer refuat haNefesh and refuat haGuf,
a healing of spirit and a healing of body.
We don’t ask people to specify which of these kinds of healing they need because we understand that the two cannot be separated.
I in no way want to suggest that a complete healing is always possible. Nor do I want to suggest that healing means we forget our pain.
We are forever impacted, we are left with a reshima, an impression upon our souls,
but we do not need to be forever limited by our life experiences.
I am asking you today to extend your cheshbon nefesh, your self reflection, the deep listening you will do over the next 10 days to include your body.
Turn your gentle attention towards your body.
Your body has wisdom stored in it, wisdom that will support you in doing teshuva, with yourself, with god and in your relationships.
Ask your body questions.
Consider drawing on the wisdom of other traditions like meditation, yoga, acupuncture, dance, massage and martial arts.
And consider drawing on the wisdom of Jewish tradition.
Judaism offers us moments of physicality to anchor us during prayer,
the choreography of sitting and standing, bowing and shuckling, beating our chests, singing and silence.
As a community we are building up to the deeply visceral experience of fasting on Yom Kippur, one in which Atonement will be felt physically as well as spiritually.
To prepare I am suggesting that you pick one way to notice your body more deeply.
I personally am going to pay attention to my posture. To the slouch in my lower back and the inward curl of my shoulders.
Whether or not Isaac was cognitively aware, his body remembered the experience on the altar.
The angel's tears are also Isaac's tears. They are tears of fear and betrayal. Tears are a physical expression of intense emotion. They are a form of release. They communicate in moments when words are inadequate. Moments of intense joy and laughter, moments of deep grief and stress. Tears make tangible our internal experience. The angel's tears are also our tears. They are embodied prayers, calling us to heal and transform.
The poet Naomi Shihab Nye writes,
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.
Just as Isaac's eyes remember, our bodies remember.
I invite you sit quietly or find someone in the room to reflect on the following question:
What kindness can you offer your body?
I will call you back with the sound of a bell.
May the one who blessed Isaac with healing, bless us, with a healing of spirit and a healing of body,
Mi shebeirach avoteinu
M’kor habracha l’imoteinu
May the source of strength who blessed the ones before us,
Help us find the courage to make our lives a blessing
Bless those of us in need of healing with refuah sh’leimah
The renewal of body, the renewal of spirit
And let us say:
Amen.
October 4, 2016
Good Morning, Shana Tova!
How many of you need a bit of a stretch. Stand up – reach out your arms. Take a deep breath. Let out a sigh. Let’s do that again. Now find a comfortable way to stand or sit.
I am curious, how would you describe the work of Rosh Hashanah?
What parts of your selves does it involve?
Traditionally, I think of teshuva as a metaphysical process. It involves thinking and listening and talking. It is work of the heart, mind and soul. Medieval philosopher Maimonides, teaches one of the key steps of teshuva is “resolving in your heart to do things differently.” As if to say, you can think and feel your way to personal transformation.
But what if teshuva, what if the work of changing our ways, of turning towards our best selves, is not entirely, or even primarily a cognitive process? Could teshuva also be a process of embodiment? Is there wisdom and healing that we cannot think our way through? If so, what is the posture of teshuva?
OK, try this for a moment:
slump down in your chair, curl over your shoulders, make an angry face and clench your fists.
Now say out loud – “I am openhearted and I want to build intimacy.” How did that feel?
Now, sit up, get comfortable, take a deep breath, relax your neck, and try saying those words again,
“I am openhearted and I want to build intimacy.”
How did you feel this time?
80% of our communication happens through our body language;
both the way we communicate to other people and to ourselves.
We can say that we want to change, but until we embody it,
we will not experience the transformation we long for.
This truth is embedded within this morning's Torah reading as well.
Let's review the story in slow motion.
Abraham hears the voice of God call out to him. He responds, Hineini, here I am. I am willing.
Abraham wakes up early in the morning and takes his beloved son Isaac and two servants on a journey up a mountain to make a sacrifice.
Abraham and Isaac leave their two servants at the base of the mountain and head off alone.
Isaac looks to Abraham and says,
“Father, here are the firestone and the wood; but where is the sheep for the burnt offering?”
Abraham does not answer.
The silence is potent.
For a moment imagine the tension in their faces, the clenching of their stomachs, the fear on Isaac’s brow.
Abraham and Isaac continue up the mountain.
Isaac lies down on the altar.
Abraham binds Isaac to the altar.
Isaac stares upward at his father.
Abraham lifts his arm with the knife in his hand.
The ram is about to emerge from the thicket.
Isaac is terrified.
Abraham is terrified.
Hold this image in your mind – I want to press pause here. Now lets layer another image onto this moment, an image that comes from a midrash, an ancient story.
A midrash teaches us that in this very moment angels are hovering over Abraham, witnessing the horrible events about to ensue – and they start to weep.
They cry and cry, and their tears fall into Isaac’s eyes.
When the angel's tears fall into Isaac’s eyes, they do not blind him,
but they leave an impression, v’hayu reshumot btoch einav.
Having survived this trauma, Isaac ages and overtime Isaac loses his eyesight.
Isaac’s eyes encode the experience of the Akeidah.
Isaac’s eyes remember the trauma.
We have two images: The first of Abraham holding the knife in midair above Isaac on the altar
and second, the image of the angels above, crying, and their tears falling into Isaac's eyes.
This is a painful moment. A moment of trauma. A moment Isaac's body remembers.
How do we do teshuva for the physical transgressions of our bodies? For sitting in front of the computer for too many hours and the repetitive stress injuries that follow? For depriving our bodies of food or binge eating? For hating parts of our bodies because they are too fat, or too wrinkled or too Jewish? For hitting our child in a moment of exhaustion? And how do we make teshuva for the trauma our bodies have continued to hold? For being victims of abuse, for surviving assault?
For all different reasons, we have become distanced from our bodies, and the lights of our souls have been dimmed.
Please take a moment to thank your body for this distance; it reflects your body’s desire to protect itself from pain and trauma; it is a sign of love.
The gift of Rosh Hashanah is a world created anew, restored to wholeness. And this also applies to our bodies. Now let's think about how we can move through this distance towards greater wholeness and intimacy.
There is a concept in the laws of kashrut, pertaining to keeping one’s kitchen kosher called – k’vol’o, kach polto –
that a substance is released the same way it was absorbed.
This process describes the different methods we might use to kasher our kitchen utensils, and how we can determine the appropriate method to make the objects kosher.
For example, a pot that has been used on a stovetop can be kashered by dunking it in boiling water.
While a metal pan used for baking in the oven must be put in the oven at high heat for 30 minutes.
K’vol’o, kach polto –
just as heat is transmitted, so too it must be released.
BREATH
The same applies to human beings and healing.
We must engage all of the parts of ourselves that were involved at the time of emotional or physical injury.
Hurt and heartache are stored in body, as well as in our hearts and minds.
Healing cannot only be a cognitive process.
We might THINK we have moved on, but our bodies indicate otherwise.
Take a moment in your chair to recall a difficult experience from the past year, or perhaps from deeper in your personal history.
Can you connect that experience to a point in your body?
To pain in your lower back, to an upset stomach, to a stiff neck?
Your body has wisdom and it is constantly communicating with you.
Our bodies have an incredible ability to heal. It is genetically encoded in us – take a cut for example.
The skin and tissue instinctively know how to repair themselves.
This is also true of deeper, more emotional wounds.
While the mind can play games, the body tells the truth.
Recent studies in the field of neuroscience show that our intelligence lies not just in the brain, but in the body as a whole.
The heart and the stomach process information.
They are able to learn, remember, and make functional decisions independent of the brain.
This is scientific proof that our bodies remember.
Just like Isaac’s eyes.
They recall the experience of the Akeidah, the fear and uncertainty of the journey up the mountain, the broken trust of their father, the miracle of the ram.
Throughout the month of Elul, and particularly during the 10 days of Teshuva between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, we focus our attention on cheshbon HaNefesh, a deep inner searching.
Most often we take notice of habits we want to change and relationships we want to mend.
But change, transformation, teshuva, is really hard.
We resolve in our minds to do things differently.
And yet under pressure, we do what is familiar.
To cope, we develop habits, ways of being that protect our sense of dignity and our sense of safety.
Rosh Hashanah is a teshuva booster shot.
It reignites our motivation to heal, individually and collectively,
so that we can connect from a place of wholeness, and live from a place of maximum possibility.
Healing restores our sense of shlemut,
the very blessing we offer someone who is ill.
We say Refuah Shlemah – may you experience a complete healing.
And in this very blessing we offer refuat haNefesh and refuat haGuf,
a healing of spirit and a healing of body.
We don’t ask people to specify which of these kinds of healing they need because we understand that the two cannot be separated.
I in no way want to suggest that a complete healing is always possible. Nor do I want to suggest that healing means we forget our pain.
We are forever impacted, we are left with a reshima, an impression upon our souls,
but we do not need to be forever limited by our life experiences.
I am asking you today to extend your cheshbon nefesh, your self reflection, the deep listening you will do over the next 10 days to include your body.
Turn your gentle attention towards your body.
Your body has wisdom stored in it, wisdom that will support you in doing teshuva, with yourself, with god and in your relationships.
Ask your body questions.
Consider drawing on the wisdom of other traditions like meditation, yoga, acupuncture, dance, massage and martial arts.
And consider drawing on the wisdom of Jewish tradition.
Judaism offers us moments of physicality to anchor us during prayer,
the choreography of sitting and standing, bowing and shuckling, beating our chests, singing and silence.
As a community we are building up to the deeply visceral experience of fasting on Yom Kippur, one in which Atonement will be felt physically as well as spiritually.
To prepare I am suggesting that you pick one way to notice your body more deeply.
I personally am going to pay attention to my posture. To the slouch in my lower back and the inward curl of my shoulders.
Whether or not Isaac was cognitively aware, his body remembered the experience on the altar.
The angel's tears are also Isaac's tears. They are tears of fear and betrayal. Tears are a physical expression of intense emotion. They are a form of release. They communicate in moments when words are inadequate. Moments of intense joy and laughter, moments of deep grief and stress. Tears make tangible our internal experience. The angel's tears are also our tears. They are embodied prayers, calling us to heal and transform.
The poet Naomi Shihab Nye writes,
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.
Just as Isaac's eyes remember, our bodies remember.
I invite you sit quietly or find someone in the room to reflect on the following question:
What kindness can you offer your body?
I will call you back with the sound of a bell.
May the one who blessed Isaac with healing, bless us, with a healing of spirit and a healing of body,
Mi shebeirach avoteinu
M’kor habracha l’imoteinu
May the source of strength who blessed the ones before us,
Help us find the courage to make our lives a blessing
Bless those of us in need of healing with refuah sh’leimah
The renewal of body, the renewal of spirit
And let us say:
Amen.