A Toolkit for Transition & Change

Welcome back!! This week I'm changing it up and sharing my final paper from one of my favorite classes this summer, Applied Jewish Wisdom. The entire class was dedicated to building our Jewish wisdom toolkit and working together to figure out how and when we can use different Jewish texts as leaders in the Jewish community to respond to crisis, management challenges, or staff appreciation. My d'var speaks to the personal challenges that this month brings, and how Jewish ritual can help ground me and prepare for transition and change. I hope you enjoy <3

As I transition out of summer classes, and into a brand new semester, not to mention a move in the middle of it, my anxiety is high. The celebration of accomplishing another intensive summer is blurred by the stress and uncertainty that comes with moving - finding a new apartment in the Los Angeles Housing market, and figuring out how to pack up my life and put it into a new place. As I begin to tackle this chapter of change and transition, I am reminded that Judaism has many beautiful stories and rituals that can help me process my own experiences and minimize the noise from the stress and anxiety.

The world as we know it was started in a moment of transition. In Bereshet, Genesis 1:1, when God began to create heaven and earth:

In that instant, at the very beginning of the Torah, God creates a transition moment. Light is taken from the darkness and the first Day is created:“God called the light Day, and the darkness God called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, a first day.” And just like that, we have day, and we have night. The ultimate transition that we each experience daily.

A friend said to me recently that this text is powerful for many reasons, but mainly because it is so accessible. One can pick any part of this text to pull apart, whether it be the earth being chaos and void, the first ever appearance of light, or the creation of Day and Night.

There is a transition moment in this text: there was evening and there was morning, a first day. Every single day, we wake up, live our days, and then get ready for bed, transition to sleep, to do it all over again. But, each of us treats this transition differently. We all have our own rituals, fixed practices, or habits, to start and end our days. That could be ten minutes of meditation and journaling in the morning, or simply making yourself a pot of coffee when you wake up. These practices are part of how we transition into our days. Our rituals keep us grounded, and are a necessary part of living in the present moment. What happens when you don’t have them? For me, anxiety kicks in. Periods of change and transition are hard, and the rituals or fixed practices are what grounds us in creating those moments of separation.

Judaism, as we know, is full of rituals. A teacher of mine, Rabbi Shmuly Yanklovitz, taught me there are three different mitzvot in Judaism that involve the lighting of the candles. We light Shabbat candles on Friday nights to cultivate peace in the home, an internal mitzvah. We light Hanukkah candles during the month of Kislev to celebrate the freedom of the Jewish people. We put our menorahs in our windows to remind the public of that accomplishment, an external act. Lastly, Havdalah is an intersection of the public and the private mitzvot within these rituals. The braided Havdalah candle represents what it means to be a Jew in society, in the home, and to ourselves. The light in all three of these rituals represents something different, yet in the creation text, “God said the light was good.” How can the recurring theme of light, and the mitzvot that occur from them, help us stay grounded in periods of transition of time? How can these internal, external, and intertwined practices make periods of transition peaceful?

The ritual of Havdalah stands out to me. Havdalah, which literally means separation, occurs every Saturday night at sundown, to separate our Shabbat, the day of rest, from the rest of the week. This ritual involves four prayers and three symbols: wine, spices, and the flame from the Havdalah candle. While many of us may recognize the classic Havdalah “yai lai lai’s” from summer camp, the transliterations of the prayers are beautiful. Part of the introductory prayer states, There was light and joy; gladness and honor for the Jewish people. So may we be blessed. The intersection of public and private is represented here: Light and joy for ourselves, and gladness and honor for the Jewish people. The three symbols, and the following prayers, dive deeper into how this ritual of light can help us as we experience transition and change.

The three symbols, the wine, spices, and flame each represent a beautiful framing to transition into a new week. Starting with the wine: Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, borei p'ri hagafen. We praise you, Adonai our God, Sovereign of all, Creator of the fruit of the vine. Wine is a symbol of joy. For me, the joy of the wine is created each week through connection, whether that be with friends, family or loved ones. Joy is being outside, attending farmers markets, and making food with fresh farm fruits and vegetables. Joy is being stuck in the middle of a great book and not wanting to put it down. These moments remind me that moments that feel hard are not permanent.

Next, we have spices. Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, borei minei v'samim. We praise you, Adonai our God, Sovereign of all, Creator of varied spices. We smell the spices to be awakened to our responsibilities in the week to come. My spices include going on a long run on the beach or practicing yoga, the tea that boosts my energy, or the fizz from the kombucha that keeps me going day after day. These practices keep me grounded during times of change and transition.

Finally, the flame. Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, borei m'orei ha-esh. We praise You, Adonai our God, Sovereign of all, Creator of the lights of fire. The light signals that it is time to begin creating again. We have spent Shabbat resting, and the call to get back to work and get the creative juices flowing again is here. I LOVE this concept. If there’s one thing that has been a constant light for me this past year in Los Angeles, it’s getting to the beach. For me, the beach is healing. The sun reflecting on the water and the sound of the waves is exactly what I need to spark my creative flow. I’ve made it a point to get there at least once a week since I’ve moved to Los Angeles, and it will forever be my Havdalah light!

The final prayer, the blessing of separation states: Blessed are You, Eternal our God, Ruler of the universe, Who distinguishes between the sacred and the profane, between light and darkness, between Israel and other people of the world, between the seventh day and the six days of the week. This prayer emphasizes the various separations that exist in this ritual. The separation in our own lives, and the things that are greater than us. Blessed is God who distinguishes between the sacred and the profane. What are the sacred things in our lives that ground us? What do we do differently on the seventh day of the week to ensure our transition back into a new week to show up as our best selves? How does the differentiation between the sacred and profane allow us to stay grounded in times of transition and change? Your version of wine, spices, and light can help with this.

Let’s go back to the beginning, Bereshet. God began to create, and God created light. What can you create, this week, this month, this year, and today to create your version of the light? Your version of light is what you can turn to when things get hard, when the anxiety is high, and you just don’t know what to do. When transition and change feel scary, your personal Havdalah kit can help you separate the scary from the exciting. Don’t lose sight of your toolkit. Carry them with you and turn to them when you feel like you’re in the dark. Just like God took the light from the darkness, find your version of light, and create a new day. And with that I wish you, a Shabbat Shalom and a Shavua Tov, a good week, a week of peace, may gladness reign and joy increase.

Ethically,

Emily