As I wrap things up here at Camp Ramah Darom and start packing up all my things, I began to go through all the experiences I had this summer. The best way for me to look back on my summer, to enter back into the journeys taken, is to write. While in rabbinical school, I learned about the beauty of spiritual writing with one of my teachers, award-winning playwright, educator, and poet, Merle Feld. She wrote the following to her students at the beginning of the pandemic:
I see writing as an opportunity, a possibility to open, to reflect, to find clarity and even comfort. Sometimes I frame a writing practice as a means to record the journey of our days. Perhaps it seems odd at first glance to talk about “journey” when our lives are now circumscribed by quarantine, sheltering in place – we’re not taking off shoes at the airport for faraway adventures, no travel to nearby or distant cities for dinner galas or concerts or conferences or simchas. Not even a walk or drive to shul. But in fact, these greatly circumscribed days themselves, this eerie limbo, challenge us more profoundly than forays to distant lands. The movements of thought, of feeling, have not abated. And so we still crave a way to better see and explore inner worlds.
As I re-enter the outside world and leave the bubble that has been created this summer at camp, I realize that Florida is in a lot different of a situation than when I left. The late spring and early summer were steps back into the pre-pandemic world that we once knew, but now, we are taking the necessary steps back in order to protect ourselves and others. As we take these steps back, we must keep in mind that the journey continues. This is where Elul, the month that precedes the High Holy Days, plays an important role. There are many acronyms for this month, but one that is especially meaningful to me this year is
אֶת-לְבָבְךָ וְאֶת-לְבַב | Et L'vavcha V'et L'vav
Your heart and the heart [of others]…
This teaching comes from a line in the book of Deuteronomy (30:6):
וּמָל יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ אֶת־לְבָבְךָ וְאֶת־לְבַב זַרְעֶךָ לְאַהֲבָה אֶת־יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ בְּכָל־לְבָבְךָ וּבְכָל־נַפְשְׁךָ לְמַעַן חַיֶּיךָ׃
Then the LORD your God will open up your heart and the hearts of your offspring to love the LORD your God with all your heart and soul, in order that you may live.
As we approach this month, we dive deeper into our hearts and the hearts of others, and we do so for the sake of life. The High Holy Days are filled with the imagery of the book of life and death. In the Talmud (Masechet Rosh Hashanah), we read: “Three books are opened on Rosh Hashanah: One for the totally wicked, one for the totally righteous, and one for those in between. The totally righteous are at once inscribed and sealed for life, the totally wicked are at once inscribed and sealed for death, and the in between are left in suspension.”
I look at all of us as part of that last group of people in between. Just as we are in between one year and another, we are also in between our last year selves and our new selves that we do not yet know. In order to look forward, we must dig deeper into our hearts and the hearts of others.
This year, our Elul Challenge will be different than last year. Last year, we gave our participants a daily action, a way to interact with the outside world in a safe way. This year, our journey will begin with digging deeper into ourselves and writing our own Books of Life. Those who sign up for the CSK’s Elul Challenge will receive a daily prompt and instructions on how to engage in the art of spiritual writing. Each day will challenge us to bring our inner selves to the forefront in the form of personal journals. We will ask participants to share when they feel comfortable in our WhatsApp group, and hopefully, by Rosh Hashanah, we will have a book from our Elul challenge participants to publish for our congregation!
Instructions on Spiritual Writing by expert Merle Feld:
Most important, you need to make a commitment to care for yourself, make an appointment with yourself to do this writing, put it in your calendar. And keep it, respect it, respect yourself and the value of doing this. Find a quiet place where you won’t be disturbed. Turn off your phone.
If you possibly can, write by hand, even if that feels very unfamiliar to you – computers go quickly, quickly, they are cerebral instruments; this writing is all about slowly, slowly, opening the flow from heart to hand. Please try, but if it just won’t work for you, feel free to use your laptop.
Choose just one prompt at a sitting, and then, when you are sitting with the prompt, listen carefully. This writing is all about listening – listening to yourself.
Often the first response that comes to mind is the most fruitful. Just relax and go with it even if you think it is odd.
As you write, capture as clearly and precisely as you can what is true for you – no artifice, no disguises.
Be specific, concrete; better to tell one story and go deep with it than to generalize or to skim over multiple examples.
Be on the lookout for strong images that come up, meaningful details. Be curious; follow the image and explore it even if you don’t quite understand why it’s important or where it is going.
Write in your first language; that is the best way to make a heart-connection through words.
Once you are done writing, take a breath, read what you have written. Do not criticize or judge – these are words from your heart that need to be valued, cherished and respected.
You may want to write down any questions that the writing has sparked for you. You can return to those questions at another time for reflection and/or for continued writing.
In some way, acknowledge to yourself the courage and openness you have brought to this work.
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