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magidAfter all the rushing about, I got all the cooking done before yom tov, which meant that once I lit candles, I calmed down quite a lot. There were still tables to set and dishes to do, but these were minor in comparison.
Davening
I made it to all the services, albeit late to some. I'd already decided not to beat myself up over being late, especially in the morning, because I had such a horrific sleep debt already. And the davening was really good. At Harvard, there were some favorite baalei tefillah (I really need to figure out how to get Hebrew text; it's annoying me to transliterate) of years past, and a couple of new people who did well. Not everyone was stellar, but a surprising number were. I was pleased to hear the kohen whose voice I'd noticed during birkat kohanim leading mincha the first day; he really does have a sweet voice, and his davening was so... earnest, actually, is the word that comes to mind. Not that the baal musaf (first day), for instance, isn't focused on his davening, but he's been doing it much longer, and I have the sense that he's paying a little more attention to the show, as it were.
I davened at Harvard (the usual room we use for the high holidays, in Pound Hall) except for the morning of the second day, when I went to the traditional (read: mechitzah) minyan of Tremont St., which was being held conveniently across the street at Youville Hospital. I went partly because of the convenience (I could duck home and put the soup on), partly because some lunch guests were going to that minyan, and partly just because I was curious, and wanted to support this first-time effort (they've been meeting for regular Shabbatot, but this is the first time for RH). I was glad I went, but the set-up was just distracting enough for me that I didn't focus as well as at other services. There were a lot of factors that played into this: being crowded, with lots little kids running around, having a more informal approach in general, the concern of hosting lunch with guests coming from so many different minyanim (read: end times), plus the distraction of being in a new place that I wanted to explore a bit. So while it wasn't the best davening of the weekend, I was glad I went. Now I know there's a shaded courtyard; and the chapel (not the room we used) has a fountain and padded benches around the perimeter, plus a skylight; there's fishtank in one of the lobbies; there's a kitchen off the room we davened in, so there was kiddush between kriat ha-Torah and musaf (which I wasn't at all expecting, having ducked out during haftarah to do kitchen-y things, dashing back so as not to miss shofar blowing).
Learned: I'm really used to the starkness of the Ropes-Gray room for davening. It's big, there's lots of space, and not much in it, so I can focus better.
Still, I'm not sure where the gift of kavannah came from; I certainly hadn't done much (any?) non-food preparation for the chag. I hope that it continues; being able to focus even partly makes all the difference.
Learning
The Hillel rabbi gave a talk (class, really; he wanted participation) after Shabbat mincha, on the mitzvah of shofar. It's essential to the day, being one of the names of the day. But what is the mitzvah? Is it on the hearing or the blowing of the shofar? The Rambam (among others) says it's on the hearing. However, it's the baal tokeah who says the bracha, which isn't intuitively obvious if it's on the hearing. And then there's the question of why the baal tokeah needs to be an adult who is not mute (etc); the sounds coming out are reasonably the same. We talked about intent, and the role of the shofar blowing in the service: it's prayer, reduced down to wordless emotion (which tied into the JOFA dvar Torah I read last week). Which also explains the requirements for the baal tokeah, since it's the equivalent of a baal tefillah. (I could've seen an argument that the requirements might not be the same, given the wordless nature, but there wasn't time to get into it.)
(Side note: I was the only woman who spoke. There weren't many women there, true, but it still felt odd to be the only woman talking, and talking repeatedly. It was fine with everyone else, just my own self-consciousness.)
Second morning there was a dvar Torah given on the portion of the day (the Akeidah). Rabbanit Klapper spoke, starting with the idea of it being a test. A test for whom? Avraham, being asked give up his now-sole heir? Or Yitzchak, proving his devotion or committment? In either case, it's not like He doesn't know what the person will choose to do; it's an exercise of free will for the person, having the chance to actualize potential, but not for Him. The part that stuck most with me, though, was the very end. She said that the real test came at the end of the parsha, when Avraham hears that his brother has had 12 sons and (effectively) a daughter. In Avraham's family, it takes much struggle and three generations to get to the same place his brother has achieved easily, without effort. And so too, we have things we struggle with that seem to be effortless for others, and extremely difficult for us, but we shouldn't give up.
Noticed in the first-day laining (about Yitzchak's birth): Avraham "sends away" Hagar and Yishmael. The Hebrew uses the root g-r-sh, which these days has the connotation of divorce. But one doesn't divorce children, just spouses (if anyone, of course...). Later in the text, Hagar cries out over their lack of water and her son's impending death (I always have problems with this bit, because the text treats him as a small child, when he's rather older than that). And then an angel (is it an angel? I'm too lazy to double-check) hears the cries of the boy, and tells Hagar that there's a well nearby. Why is it Yishamael who's heard, not Hagar? Perhaps it's because a child shouldn't be cast aside like that, even when a spouse is? (Of course, this is all total speculation; I'm sure there are sources that discuss this, but I didn't go looking for them.)
Note: this learning is based on my memory; there may be errors, but they're mine.
Social
The meals I hosted went reasonably well, the food having worked, the conversation flowing. I know I've done this dozens of times (hundreds, even), but I still get a bit tense about having everything work smoothly, the right balance of congenial people, the food, and so on. Luckily, both my meals went well, with much interesting conversation.
I was pleased to have been invited out the second night, not just for the invitation itself, but also because second night involves such tricky timing to get things warm after the end of the first day, plus remembering to have a new fruit to say shehechiyanu over (I have now had prickly pear fruit, and I'm pretty sure the taste of it wasn't really worth the splinters in people's hands). It wasn't an early night, but I didn't care.
I ended up part of a conversation between mincha and maariv last night about minyan politics that made me want to be more involved, strangely enough. Not the reaction I would've expected.
And *wave* to those on my friends list seen this weekend.
Now it's Tzom Gedaliah, a dawn-to-dusk fast day. I'm definitely looking forward to breakfast (7 pm).
Davening
I made it to all the services, albeit late to some. I'd already decided not to beat myself up over being late, especially in the morning, because I had such a horrific sleep debt already. And the davening was really good. At Harvard, there were some favorite baalei tefillah (I really need to figure out how to get Hebrew text; it's annoying me to transliterate) of years past, and a couple of new people who did well. Not everyone was stellar, but a surprising number were. I was pleased to hear the kohen whose voice I'd noticed during birkat kohanim leading mincha the first day; he really does have a sweet voice, and his davening was so... earnest, actually, is the word that comes to mind. Not that the baal musaf (first day), for instance, isn't focused on his davening, but he's been doing it much longer, and I have the sense that he's paying a little more attention to the show, as it were.
I davened at Harvard (the usual room we use for the high holidays, in Pound Hall) except for the morning of the second day, when I went to the traditional (read: mechitzah) minyan of Tremont St., which was being held conveniently across the street at Youville Hospital. I went partly because of the convenience (I could duck home and put the soup on), partly because some lunch guests were going to that minyan, and partly just because I was curious, and wanted to support this first-time effort (they've been meeting for regular Shabbatot, but this is the first time for RH). I was glad I went, but the set-up was just distracting enough for me that I didn't focus as well as at other services. There were a lot of factors that played into this: being crowded, with lots little kids running around, having a more informal approach in general, the concern of hosting lunch with guests coming from so many different minyanim (read: end times), plus the distraction of being in a new place that I wanted to explore a bit. So while it wasn't the best davening of the weekend, I was glad I went. Now I know there's a shaded courtyard; and the chapel (not the room we used) has a fountain and padded benches around the perimeter, plus a skylight; there's fishtank in one of the lobbies; there's a kitchen off the room we davened in, so there was kiddush between kriat ha-Torah and musaf (which I wasn't at all expecting, having ducked out during haftarah to do kitchen-y things, dashing back so as not to miss shofar blowing).
Learned: I'm really used to the starkness of the Ropes-Gray room for davening. It's big, there's lots of space, and not much in it, so I can focus better.
Still, I'm not sure where the gift of kavannah came from; I certainly hadn't done much (any?) non-food preparation for the chag. I hope that it continues; being able to focus even partly makes all the difference.
Learning
The Hillel rabbi gave a talk (class, really; he wanted participation) after Shabbat mincha, on the mitzvah of shofar. It's essential to the day, being one of the names of the day. But what is the mitzvah? Is it on the hearing or the blowing of the shofar? The Rambam (among others) says it's on the hearing. However, it's the baal tokeah who says the bracha, which isn't intuitively obvious if it's on the hearing. And then there's the question of why the baal tokeah needs to be an adult who is not mute (etc); the sounds coming out are reasonably the same. We talked about intent, and the role of the shofar blowing in the service: it's prayer, reduced down to wordless emotion (which tied into the JOFA dvar Torah I read last week). Which also explains the requirements for the baal tokeah, since it's the equivalent of a baal tefillah. (I could've seen an argument that the requirements might not be the same, given the wordless nature, but there wasn't time to get into it.)
(Side note: I was the only woman who spoke. There weren't many women there, true, but it still felt odd to be the only woman talking, and talking repeatedly. It was fine with everyone else, just my own self-consciousness.)
Second morning there was a dvar Torah given on the portion of the day (the Akeidah). Rabbanit Klapper spoke, starting with the idea of it being a test. A test for whom? Avraham, being asked give up his now-sole heir? Or Yitzchak, proving his devotion or committment? In either case, it's not like He doesn't know what the person will choose to do; it's an exercise of free will for the person, having the chance to actualize potential, but not for Him. The part that stuck most with me, though, was the very end. She said that the real test came at the end of the parsha, when Avraham hears that his brother has had 12 sons and (effectively) a daughter. In Avraham's family, it takes much struggle and three generations to get to the same place his brother has achieved easily, without effort. And so too, we have things we struggle with that seem to be effortless for others, and extremely difficult for us, but we shouldn't give up.
Noticed in the first-day laining (about Yitzchak's birth): Avraham "sends away" Hagar and Yishmael. The Hebrew uses the root g-r-sh, which these days has the connotation of divorce. But one doesn't divorce children, just spouses (if anyone, of course...). Later in the text, Hagar cries out over their lack of water and her son's impending death (I always have problems with this bit, because the text treats him as a small child, when he's rather older than that). And then an angel (is it an angel? I'm too lazy to double-check) hears the cries of the boy, and tells Hagar that there's a well nearby. Why is it Yishamael who's heard, not Hagar? Perhaps it's because a child shouldn't be cast aside like that, even when a spouse is? (Of course, this is all total speculation; I'm sure there are sources that discuss this, but I didn't go looking for them.)
Note: this learning is based on my memory; there may be errors, but they're mine.
Social
The meals I hosted went reasonably well, the food having worked, the conversation flowing. I know I've done this dozens of times (hundreds, even), but I still get a bit tense about having everything work smoothly, the right balance of congenial people, the food, and so on. Luckily, both my meals went well, with much interesting conversation.
I was pleased to have been invited out the second night, not just for the invitation itself, but also because second night involves such tricky timing to get things warm after the end of the first day, plus remembering to have a new fruit to say shehechiyanu over (I have now had prickly pear fruit, and I'm pretty sure the taste of it wasn't really worth the splinters in people's hands). It wasn't an early night, but I didn't care.
I ended up part of a conversation between mincha and maariv last night about minyan politics that made me want to be more involved, strangely enough. Not the reaction I would've expected.
And *wave* to those on my friends list seen this weekend.
Now it's Tzom Gedaliah, a dawn-to-dusk fast day. I'm definitely looking forward to breakfast (7 pm).
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no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 06:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 06:40 pm (UTC)(Asks the woman who never manages new clothes before yom tov.)
no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 06:45 pm (UTC)I'm digging this info out of my brain from back in high school, so I'd have to go back and look things up to be sure of all the details.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 07:12 pm (UTC)I've never had shofar in mind during licht bentching, but I assume the baal tokeah's shehechiyanu I'm amen-ing to works, too.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 06:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 07:07 pm (UTC)(Hee! about the underwear. I never manage to have time to buy any clothes for chag, with the cleaning and the cooking and the building and whatnot. It's what I need to get a spouse for :-)
Hebrew Keyboard
Date: 2006-09-25 06:44 pm (UTC)Re: Hebrew Keyboard
Date: 2006-09-25 07:01 pm (UTC)There's a key sequence for Macs as well, Cmd-Option[-Shift]-F12. Sadly you can't make it the same as the Windows one...
Re: Hebrew Keyboard
Date: 2006-09-25 07:10 pm (UTC)(Which, sadly, might not be for days...)
Re: Hebrew Keyboard
Date: 2006-09-25 07:09 pm (UTC)I don't know which (Hebrew) letters would go with which (English) letters; is there a diagram somewhere? (Huh. For intermittent users like me, it would likely be faster to have a chart to click, rather like putting in a PIN or something.)
Re: Hebrew Keyboard
Date: 2006-09-25 08:12 pm (UTC)http://www.bethimmanuel.org/hebrew/tools/keyboard.shtml
or:
http://www.mikledet.com/email.html
for pages that allow users to generate Hebrew text that can be copied and pasted.
Re: Hebrew Keyboard
Date: 2006-09-25 08:27 pm (UTC)Alas that things are so nutty I won't have a chance to try either out for a couple of days.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 07:41 pm (UTC)It does often seem and bothers me that the needs and feelings of non-children tends not to be valued as equally important and in need of being treated sensitively as those of children.
no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 07:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 07:58 pm (UTC)One possible answer: if Hagar was upsetting the status quo, she was doing that as an adult, with the knowledge that she'd have responsibility for her actions, whereas it's not as clear how old Yishmael was, whether he was old enough to know this.
Still, it bothers me. I mean, there's all those links set up between Sisera's mother's crying and how we sound the shofar (truah, shevarim), while Hagar's cries go unnoticed. I'd've thought Hagar much more worthy of our consideration than Sisera's mother...
no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 08:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-25 08:29 pm (UTC)I wish I had a solution to that. It seems there isn't enough sympathy, or empathy, around these days...