By Rabbi Paul Kipnes and Rabbi Julia Weisz
Let’s take a moment
And turn inward.
And enjoy a few moments
Of guided meditation.
Sit up as straight as your body allows.
Close your book,
And close your eyes.
Relax your hands,
placing them on your lap
Or put your fingertips together
and feel the balance of pressure.
And now
Just Breathe.
Take big breath in
Hold it
Let it out.
Again
Breathe in
Hold it.
Let it out.
Keep breathing.
Keep listening.
Rabbi Rachel Barenblat writes (in Anew):
Here’s the thing:
the year begins anew
even in the worst of times.
The leaves will turn and fall
and then they’ll grow again.
And sometimes we’re afraid,
and we can’t know what choice to make
to keep anyone safe.
[Sometimes] Uncertainty’s a bear.
All we can do
is seek out sweetness everywhere we may
and work to fix what brokenness we find.
The good news is we’re not in this alone.
We’ll help each other hope
when light seems dim
and
[we’ll] lift the sparks that darker days reveal.
We’ll love each other fiercely;
In the end
there is no greater work that we can do.
We who survive will help each other [through].
That’s what Kehillah Kedosha,
A holy community like ours does.
We remind each other that:
We are not alone.
In the quiet of your mind,
Not aloud,
Repeat after me:
I know
[Pause]
I’m not
[Pause]
Alone
[Pause]
Again, silently, in your mind, repeat:
I know
[Pause]
I’m not
[Pause]
Alone
[Pause]
When I’m frustrated that our celebrations must be different, smaller, rescheduled or postponed,
[Say it in your mind with me] I know… I’m not… alone.
When I worry about my children going back to school
[Say it in your mind with me] I know… I’m not… alone.
When I fear for my parents who now need a booster
[Say it:] I know… I’m not… alone.
When I feel overwhelmed by even simple decisions, like what to make for dinner or if I should get dressed up
[Say it:] I know… I’m not… alone.
When I am angered by the politicization of science and the pain this has caused
[Say it:] I know… I’m not… alone.
When I connect regularly to faraway family and friends on facetime or zoom, even though I’m not seeing them face to face
I know I’m not alone.
When I cannot figure out if this cold requires a covid test
I know I’m not alone.
When I feel bad because during lockdown, I binge watched TV, instead of learning to play guitar, take a class, exercise more, or do something more productive
I know I’m not alone.
When I remember that so many are so less fortunate than me, so even though we are in this together, we are not equally in this together and I need to do more to help them,
I know I’m not alone.
When I’m sad because it feels like I’ve lost a year and a half of my life
I know I’m not alone.
When struggling to make time to take care of myself, whatever that means
I know I’m not alone.
[pause]
No,
You are not alone.
We are all in this together.
And, also, remember:
Not being alone
Doesn’t mean it isn’t frustrating and overwhelming
And worrisome and scary.
It just means we are not alone.
So feel that connection,
Take strength from the community
And remember the lessons of the shofar.
The sounds of the shofar
Parallel our experience.
What once was whole – tekiah
Became broken – shevarim
And sometimes shatters – teruah
But ultimately, it returns to wholeness – tekiah.
Hear the call of the Holy One
Sending you strength, and hope, and resilience.
Hear the call of the Holy One telling you, telling us, that…
No, I am not alone.
We are not alone.
And we can get through this…
Together.
This meditation came into being as we reflected on the wisdom and teachings of Dr. Betsy Stone, who has guided Jewish leaders through the trauma and psycho-social effects and after-effects of the Covid-19 pandemic.
The refrains were born out of a social sermon experiment on Facebook, in which we posed the question: Reflecting on this year, what statements lead to: “I’m not in this alone”? The idea of the social sermons, promulgated by Lisa Colton, is to crowdsource the wisdom and insights of a larger group to craft a sermon or teaching.