Intend — by Student Rabbi Stacey Z Robinson

I had intended…

Wait. Let me start again, this time in the present. I intend…

Ugh. I have no idea what I intend, what I had intended, what I will have intended.

What I know is that I love the English pluperfect– past, present and future, all rolled into one. Even more than the pluperfect tense,  I love that in Hebrew, we consider not necessarily past, present or future, but completed versus not completed. Action over time, complete versus intended.

The holiness of completion and the grammar of intention.

They are intricately– intimately– connected, by time, by action, by desire. It is not enough to want. It is not enough, even, to do. The rabbis tell us that in order to satisfy the mitzvah of hearing the shofar on Rosh Hashanah, I must have intended to do so. I must consciously be in a place where I will hear it. If I merely happen to walk by a synagogue and hear the sharp burst of tekiyah, I will not have satisfied this commandment.

I strive for completion, for the mindfulness of my intention. I intend to fully engage, in my Judaism, in my continued and continuing conversation with God, in finding a path to wholeness that shelters me and the world entire.

My actions mostly support this. Sigh. My intention, though, can be– incomplete. I am subject to the laws of unintended consequences. My grammar can be faulty in this. I am less than holy, though I am human; no more, no less. I have hurt others, through my thoughtlessness. I have been unkind in my haste. I am unforgiving in my passion and self-righteousness. I am cruel in my fear. I am cynical in my doubt. I do not intend to be these things. My intentions are (mostly) good. Please God, don’t let me be misunderstood– least of all, by me.

One of my favorite of the midrash is one of creation. There are ten things, the rabbis tell us (except when there are seven) (because the rabbis can spin many plates at the same time)– there are ten things that were created before God ever created the world. Depending upon the rabbi and the midrash, these included the rainbow, and the burning bush and the ram’s horn. There were others, like manna and Miriam’s well that sustained in the desert. The greatest of these, though, to my mind, is t’shuvah.

How awesome is God! How great is the Creator of All, to know that there would be a disconnect between intent and result? How breathtakingly, achingly divine, to understand that before creating the heavens and earth, we needed to have a path back, a way to return? We will sin, but we will not be abandoned. The gates of t’shuvah will always be open for us, whenever we approach them, whenever we walk through.

Be holy, we are told, because God is holy, and we are b’tzelem elohim: in the image of God. But we are human, and so, for all our mindfulness, for all our drive towards completion and wholeness, we will fall short. We will hurt the people we love, we will be indifferent to the needs of others, we will turn away the stranger in our midst. even when we intend otherwise.

Just as God intends for us to find the way back, to return, to stand, once again at the Gates that are thrown wide (or openned only a small crack)– we will find forgiveness, we will find God, we will find each other, ever and always, there at the Gates. And in the very instant that we step through, in that breath, that heartbeat, that intention– there is neither past, nor present nor future. There is only wholeness.

The holiness of completion, the grammar of intention.

 

Weaving Our Thoughts With a Wise Heart

From the Pen of Executive Director Alison C. Brown

It is said that the tabernacle described in Exodus is a metaphor for our inner realms, the way our spirit works together with our mind to negotiate life.  Parsha Terumah delineates the myriad details necessary to construct the Tabernacle.  Commentators note, “God’s presence is not found in a building.  It is found in the hearts and the souls of the people ….”   It is our spirit, soul and mind that fashions a tabernacle, a mishkan, for God’s presence.   Accordingly, our thoughts must be intentionally fashioned.

Later Torah verses describe the making of Aaron’s priestly vestments including the ephod (a short coat “girded” on over other garments).  The ephod, say commentators, protects the wearer against the dangers of idolatry and symbolizes a right relation between man and God.  Those who were “skillful” (hochme-lev, wise of heart) would cunningly “weave” (hoshev, thinking) gold with blue, purple and crimson yarns into the ephod’s fine linen.   These materials were woven with thought and a wise heart to create a relationship with God.  Our relationship with God includes our thoughts.   If my microwave is beeping to remind me of the coffee I reheated, I can either weave thoughts of annoyance because the beeping won’t stop and I’m busy or I can skillfully and cunningly weave thoughts of appreciation for the gift of coffee and offer up this moment of thankfulness to the Source of Being.  A mind, spirit and soul steeped in prayer and meditation will default to the latter.

What if we took care of our spirit as we, often without thinking about it, take care of our body?  Create a Jewish practice.  Five minutes here and five minutes there creates space for a mishkan, a place inside that is nurturing.  That is what the Torah alludes to.  “Make Me a sanctuary for Me to dwell in.”  There is a space inside of us that is dynamic, upstanding and attuned to the One-ness.  Think about that when you walk down the hall at work. There is a space inside of us that is dynamic, upstanding and attuned to the One-ness.

The Possibility of Hanukkah

by Executive Director Alison C Brown
 
The darkness and the Illinois cold makes me weary. Add to that, my birthday is soon. I need light. I need intention.
 
“Light is the purpose of each Jew: that we transform our situation and environment to light,” said Rabbi Menachem Schneerson. Possibility is light. I just started a book whose premise is the psychology of possibility. Ellen J. Langer, author of over 200 research articles, writes in this book about transforming our situation. I think Dr. Langer must have written the magnet copy that my sister-in-law Joanne gave me when I turned 40, ‘If you didn’t know how old you are, how old would you be?’
 
It’s been said that we need to ‘package reality differently.’ So last night at Jazzercise I kept my mind’s eye on a 30-something woman and tried to bring that vitality into my own body. I was in the moment, mindful and attuned to my mind and body as one.
 
Unfortunately, later at home as the evening wore on I felt decrepit. I groaned each time I got up to do something. I had discarded my social conditioning regarding age, but it wasn’t an instantaneous fix! Never-the-less, it’s also a social construct that tap dance is for kids and adults can’t learn a foreign language, both of which adults can do, but it takes time and intention. Friday morning, when I go to Jazzercise again, I will hold onto the light of possibility that the more I move, the more I can move!
 
The psychology of possibility is why we light Hanukkah candles. Each candle illuminates the everyday miracles of life, the possibility that we can individually and collectively transform our environment regardless of the naysayers (especially if the naysayer is that nagging voice within!)
 
The Hanukkah story is also about imposing our culture on others. Antiochus wanted to quash Judaism and wanted all the people of his kingdom to share the same culture and worship the same Gods. Gee, this story sounds a little like the current clash of civilizations that America is experiencing. The difference is in the light. I have faith that the light is less obscured than it was back in Antiochus’ day. I have faith that humanity is indeed, for the most part, living the psychology of possibility, living with the intention of revealing the light.
 
A Haftorah we read during Hanukkah, Zech: 4:6, says, “For not by might nor by power but by My Spirit, says the Lord of Hosts.” Read “My Spirit” however it serves humanity best, but recognize it is Your spirited intention that will reveal the light, transform your situation and the environment. My other favorite magnet is, “If the people lead, the leaders will follow!”