Pausing to Think About God

That's my kitchen mezuzah in the picture above and I just snapped the photo. I'm already getting prepared for tonight. The table is set, the challah is fresh and hot, bright new flowers are arranged alongside the candles and kiddush wine. We'll share our table tonight with friends. I'm excited.

But OK, this blog is about the mezuzah again. Really, I didn't expect that the simple, little ritual of kissing that pretty object hanging on my doorpost would change my life so much, but it has.

Since I've been pausing longer at the mezuzahs in my home to reflect on what I'm grateful for, I find that I'm thinking about God A LOT.

I have a friend, an attorney, who used to actually keep a tiny alarm that reminded her hourly to pause and remember God. I use the mezuzah for that purpose. And I'm finding that by lingering each time I walk in or out of a room for an extended period of time that it's actually changing my overall consciousness. I feel God's presence more frequently and more readily. I'm more deeply grateful for everything in my life. My very recent battle with negativity - my first ever - is dissipating. When people call and say, "how are you doing?", I spontaneously and sincerely find myself saying, "Fabulous!!". Stopping frequently to give thanks for each aspect of my life is changing the way I feel throughout the day and evening. I'm a little awed by these fresh feelings of joy.

Most of the time as I pause by my mezuzah, my gratefulness gushes out, but there are certainly times it's a struggle. Yesterday, for instance, I walked out of my office feeling utterly frazzled. Only a fraction of my to-do list had been completed. Four different telephone lines had rung incessantly all morning. I had woken up too early - a REALLY bad thing for me. I needed a new, part-time staff member and none of my assistants had been available all week to help me out. Trying to concentrate on any task was difficult because I kept thinking of something that was more important - how could I prioritize when it was ALL priority? How the hell would I figure out which task to tackle?

I walked out of my office and paused at the mezuzah like I always do. I couldn't figure out what to be thankful for, other than a job that at the moment was driving me insane. As I stood there, however, I felt a wave of serenity. The mezuzah, I realized, had become a simple and powerful reminder of God's presence, even when gratefulness didn't immediately bubble up. Even when I was having a bad day. The mezuzah prompted me to take a breath and move into a difference mental space as I moved into a different physical space. I took a deep breath and headed down to the kitchen for lunch. And as I did, I felt again a deep gratitude for my life.

Today I added something else to this ritual. The mezuzah contains the Shema and the verses that follow the Shema, so this morning when I arrived home from class, I stopped at the mezuzah to give thanks for what I learned today and what that learning is preparing me for (rabbinical school!!). But I also spoke the Shema aloud. Because while I'll always have something to be grateful for when I walk into and out of any room, as I leave or arrive home, I also simply want to remind myself that along with the blessings of my life, the greatest of all is the presence of God.

Shabbat Shalom!

Mary

Next Step with the Mezuzah

I'm deeply drawn to rituals. They help me concentrate, they're often beautiful, and when you absorb their meaning, they enhance the spirituality of the prayer or action you're doing. The problem is, rituals can become so habitual that we fail to pause and absorb the meaning embedded in them. Take the ritual of kissing the mezuzah. I've written about it before, but it's something I continually struggle with.

When I put up my first mezuzah, I placed it on the garage door entryway, the only way I usually left the house. I'd brush the mezuzah with my fingertips and allow a quick thought of God to pass through my mind.

Could I think about God, without a mezuzah, when I left my house? Of course, but I usually didn't. The visual reminder, the pause, helped.

Later, I began to think about putting mezuzahs up on other doors. Halachically we're supposed to have them on every doorpost except the bathroom, but this just didn't gel with me. Even if you kissed the mezuzah every time you passed through any doorway, wouldn't that make it all the more reflexive and meaningless?

I've been to friends' homes who aren't in the least Orthodox but who have mezuzahs on every doorpost. It looks beautiful, and I get their attraction to the ritual of hanging one on every doorpost. I've never asked them, but maybe every time they glance at one, it reminds them of a faith, of a God, they love.

But I still personally hadn't wanted to go that far.

Some time back, though, Joe and I decided to hang mezuzahs selectively - on the kitchen and bedroom doors, on the office door, and on all entry doors except the one that leads to our backyard. But a year later, I realized that I rarely noticed most of them. I certainly didn't kiss them or pause for any kind of reflection.

So several days ago I started doing something new and I have to tell you, I'm loving it.

Rather than grazing the mezuzah with my fingertips, I stop, touch it fully, and pause there a little while. I reflect on what the room I'm entering or leaving means to me.

As I walk into my office, for instance, I stop and fully touch the mezuzah, kiss my fingertips, then touch it lightly again, for several seconds. While touching it, I offer a prayer of gratitude for the work I'm privileged to have. Leaving or entering the bedroom, I lean against the mezuzah and feel its presence on my cheek. My heart wells with gratitude for a good night's rest and for the sweet husband who lies close beside me. Entering the kitchen, I stop for a half-minute, kiss the mezuzah and thank God for providing such an abundance and variety of food.

But why the mezuzah? For me, knowing the mezuzah contains Judaism's holiest declaration - the Shema - gives me the opportunity to make myself consciously aware that God, the One, permeates everything. I enter and leave a particular space and a particular task that's part of my life with a different level of consciousness.

As I write this, I'm anticipating placing mezuzahs on the rest of my doors. I want to pause, resting against this beautiful, visual reminder as I enter the room where I play guitar, the room where I read, the room where I study and write, the room where Joe and I curl up with popcorn and a DVD, the backyard where I listen to the frogs and smell fresh herbs growing alongside the pool...

Hear, people who struggle with God and with the rituals of our faith, God is One. Bring that Divine Energy into each of your tasks, into your rest and play, and into the world outside of your home.

That's what I'll be trying to do.

Shabbat Shalom,

Mary

A Meaningful Havdalah

I have friends who enjoy the rush just before Shabbat begins - setting the table, digging out the candles, tidying up, etc. Me, I like starting to wind down mid-day and to move slowly into Shabbat. Yet I'd never given the same loving attention to Havdalah (the ritual concluding Shabbat) until recently.

So recently Joe and I went outside an hour before Shabbat ended, sat in loungers, and watched the sunset. As the stars began to sprinkle across the sky, we didn't hurry inside. Instead, we tried to identify a couple of constellations (unsuccessfully), then just spent a few quiet minutes looking at the sky, engulfed in serenity and stillness.

Back inside, we sang as we put away our Shabbat items and replaced them with our Havdalah candle, spices and wine. Standing side by side, we made a concerted effort to sing more slowly, savoring the sweet period of time we were leaving, and moving slowly - but happily - into a new week. We drank a little more wine after we'd extinguished the candle. We didn't rush to turn our computers and telephones back on.

Finally, we spent a few minutes talking about other traditions we'd like to add to our Havdalah ritual. After kiddush, we plan to walk back into the yard and smell herbs growing fresh in our yard before we come back inside to extinguish the candle. We discussed planting a few additional herbs or even occasionally just picking up fresh ones in the produce department, bypassing the usual spice-in-a-jar aisle.

Although we have travel Shabbat "kits", we can't always use them. If we're staying in a hotel, we can't light the candle. At times, we've forgotten to bring along spices for Havdalah. Also, since we're not rigid about Shabbat, we sometimes leave before Shabbat officially ends so we can meet friends or go to an entertainment event.

In the past, we've chosen either to do Havdalah early or not to do it at all. Now we may do havdalah at our friends' home or we may just go outside and look at the stars and smell the fragrance of the evening.

Recently, we've also been more prone to observing Shabbat until it ends. It's soothing to move out of Shabbat in a relaxed manner. And both sunsets - one moving into and one moving out of Shabbat - have a special holiness about them.

As I move more deeply into my Jewish faith, I continually find that middle ground between mindlessly doing a ritual because I'm "supposed to" do it or doing away with it because I can't find meaning in it.

I've always found Shabbat rituals meaningful and powerful. Now I'm finding that immersing myself in the spirituality of Havdalah allows the sweetness of the previous hours to linger into the week.

Shavua Tov,
Mary