Yom Kippur, 5767, Jenny Kirsch
October 2, 2006 / Yom Kippur 5767
Jenny Kirsch
Today being Yom Kippur, I have a confession to make: I haven’t always felt at home praying in shul. For most of my life I have felt a stronger connection to G-d outdoors. My parents first took me camping at the tender age of six months and that was it. I loved nature and found my spirituality there. Growing up as a secular Jew, I didn’t understand how Judaism was part of or harmonious with my other spiritual identity.
I’d like to talk today about how learning that Judaism is an earth-based tradition helped me make my Teshuvah. I have reconnected with being a Jew as my spiritual path, not just my cultural background. Before I began my journey to an observant Jewish practice, I remember singing songs of thanks for food, water and sunshine, and all the voices of creation singing as one. I particularly identified with the Lakota phrase, Mitakuye Oyasin, meaning “all my relations” because I believe that all the living things on our planet have equal worth. I felt that to be a good Jew, it was essential to believe in one G-d and to be a kind person. I said the Shema while bicycling treacherous parts of the Pacific Coast Highway and sang myself Hebrew lullabies as I gazed up at the stars in New Mexico.
When I first began davening at Netivot Shalom, I loved being part of the powerful singing and learning. I felt like Judaism was doable because of the diverse service leaders and Torah leiners. However, it felt confusing and alienating to read translations of Torah that declared human sovereignty and dominion over nature. In fact, I cringed and fumed at reading certain prayers. Particularly the one for peace that we recite responsively: “I will rid the land of vicious beasts and it shall not be ravaged by war.” I couldn’t stand it, as a naturalist and environmental educator I feel that predators have one of the most important and honorable functions in nature, helping to keep everything else in balance. As one of my favorite novelists, Barbara Kingsolver, wrote, “To kill a natural predator is a sin.”
In our traditional daily prayers, we praise G-d many times a day for the glorious creation. In Psalm 104, which we say on Rosh Hodesh, it is written “How many are the things you have made, HaShem; You have made them all with wisdom; the earth is full of your creations.” If G-d made all of creation in wisdom, including the intricate food webs of our vast and ancient ecosystems, then why would we want to change this order and rid the land of “vicious beasts” like bears, wolves, lions, and eagles? So many of these guardians of the natural order are already endangered due to humans’ short-sighted prejudice against all things not cute, cuddly or convenient. Finally, I spoke to a scholarly friend about it who some of you might know, Simon Firestone. We found that a popular interpretation of this pasuk, Vayikra chapter 26 verse 6, was that it was written to symbolize vicious human behavior not actual wild animals just trying to survive. So now in order to pray for peace with real kavanah I say a substitute verse: “I will rid the land of viciousness and it shall not be ravaged by war.”
Ten years ago, when I thought of going to synagogue or “real Jewish practice,” it was as a religion of being indoors reading and mumbling fearful, often sexist prayers about avoiding curses through strict rule-following like my grandfather did in the old country. What I have since learned is that our calendar, our prayers and the principles prescribed in our Torah all help to heighten our awareness of the natural world and that these cyclic occasions connect us to each other and to G-d.
Our Calendar helps to keep us attuned to the seasons with celebrating each new moon, and a weekly observance of sunset at the beginning and starlight at the end of Shabbat. Rabbi Gershon Winkler writes about how the three major Chagim, correspond in theme to the cycles of nature: “Pesach celebrates Spring, Shavuot celebrates Summer and Sukkot celebrates autumn, or the onset of winter.” Have you all noticed the moon this week since Rosh HaShana? The crescent in the evening sky has been big and orange. By Sukkot, it seems to me that we will have a giant, golden harvest moon to look at through our leafy ceilings.
Our prayers contain so much nature imagery reminding us daily of the blessings of living in a beautiful world filled with the intricate mysteries of the Creator. For instance, in psalm 145, also known as the Ashrei, we recite: “All your creatures shall praise you.” This always makes me think of a folk song I learned at camp. If you know it, please sing along: “All G-d’s critter’s got a place in the choir. Some sing low, and some sing higher. Some sing out loud on the telephone wire. Some just clap their hands or paws or anything they got now.” Another daily prayer is pointed out by Reb Zalman Schacter-Shalomi in his book Jewish with Feeling: the second paragraph of the Shema can be read not just as a parental reward and punishment but as a strong ecological warning about “the inevitable results of the actions and choices we make in response to our planetary responsibilities.” As it is written, “G-d will close the heavens and hold back the rain; the earth will not yield its produce.” So, if we don’t treat the earth with reverence for G-d, then the earth will not be able to provide for our needs.
And as Dr. David Gordis writes, our Torah is very clear that treating other animals with respect is a huge part of the Torah’s story: just think of Noah saving endangered species, the laws about allowing our land to rest during the sabbatical year, and what about kashrut? Aside from the prohibitions of mixing milk and meat, a huge part of the Jewish dietary laws prescribe how “no animal should feel pain even if we take its’ life for food.” I was a vegetarian for ten years because of my environmental values. My grandfather, who we called Papa Harold (may his memory be for a blessing), used to laugh at me in a loving way whenever we sat down to a family meal and I didn’t eat meat. He would repeatedly tell me about how in the old country the shochet would sharpen the knife “just so” - sharp enough that the animal should feel no pain when it was slaughtered. I always felt that he was trying to antagonize me by telling me about animals getting killed over and over, but as I was studying for this drash I realized maybe his intentions were to connect with me about respecting all life. Now that I keep kosher in my own home, and I’m glad this practice can connect me to his memory.
The memories of my grandfather connect me to my own deepest values; this is one of the purposes of Yom Kippur itself. Yom Kippur is a holy space in time, is when we strip away layers and layers of the mundane world and get back to our spiritual center; to who we really intend to be; to who we really are. As we repeat the Vidui, the Al Chet, and Avinu Malkenu, I wonder… As numerous as they are, do these sins we list really cover all of it? Are there any other ways that we miss the mark that should also be on the list?
What about how we treat and live in G-d’s creation? What can we do to live up to the Jewish values of being humble as one species among the many on Earth? As a bird watcher, a gardener, and an educator, I say start small. I try to pay attention and look around me and to enjoy the blessings of all the living things wherever I go. Today, while fasting, our other senses are heightened, and it is even easier to appreciate the sublime scent and color of flowers and foliage; it is a pleasure to hear the musical chipping of the towhees outside the sanctuary. I hope someday to teach my future children the brachot for food, fragrant flowers and trees, seeing magnificent creatures and vistas. Another mitzvah I can do is conserve and create habitat. There is a reason the Torah gives such reverence to trees, they are the foundation of many ecosystems. As Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai said “If you have a sapling in your hand, and someone should say to you, that the messiah has come, stay and complete the planting and then go to greet the Messiah.” Finally, I take time to consider how my consumption of resources will impact the other inhabitants on the earth. The Torah encourages us to limit our use of natural resources for the common good. I try to remember what is written in Pirkei Avot when it asks, “Who is rich?” and answers, “One who is contented with life’s portion.”
So, in my studies, Judaism’s authentic, but often-overlooked Earth-based traditions have brought me to a greater love of my spiritual heritage. My love of the natural world has deepened my appreciation for the Jewish tradition. While my Teshuva to becoming more observant and active in my Judaism was motivated by my passion for nature, there are many ways to achieve this type of reconnection. As the phrase Netivot Shalom teaches us, there are many paths to Teshuva. Whatever your passion in life, whether it be music, art, dance, history, by delving into how the roots of this subject are connected to our Jewish tradition you might deepen your love of being a Jew as well.
I want to end by sharing a poem I wrote as my own response to Adon Olam about how I see G-d’s power and oneness reflected in the patterns of creation. This is how G-d looks and feels to me:
Eytz Chaim- The Tree of Life
The rain
The flow
The rhythm
The breath
The constant growth
and cycling and changing
The patterns which remind us we are part of everything
How mountains look like human bodies and
Fingerprints look like the whorls on a sunflower -
Even in silence -
Even in dark and cold and dirt –
The beauty of the one dandelion breaking through the pavement
The yearning we all share for appreciation and togetherness
The shock of discovering: I’m not alone and
Another feels the same way
Or understands
The way stories and songs flow and change and have an impetus
to be sung and passed on
Just as water flows and genes flow and wind blows
La Madre Tierra – the mother earth
The circle
The unity it shows us as we see it in seeds, in cells, in eggs, in beginnings
Everything starts as a circle
And spins and spins
Expanding into the limitless possibilities of existence
When I pray - I aim for this memory
Even as we are spinning
We are still beginning
Each moment
Each day
Each moon
Each year
Fresh with the fullness and oneness of a circle