New Beginnings & Transformation

Hey there, my name is Rabbi Jodi Gordon, and I am pumped to be joined by Rabbi Jen Gubitz as we welcome you to the OMFG podcast, Jewish wisdom for unprecedented times. Hey, Gubitz.

Hey, Jodi. OMFG, what a fabulous 4-letter word. They really do the trick. From OMFG, school isn't going back to person to "OMFG, are we about to have a civil war?" As rabbis, we have come to know that when the stories of our lives meet the stories of Jewish tradition, transformation, growth, something awesome occurs.

Jen and I are experts in the letters J and G, Zoom Shabbat, group texts, retail therapy, and buying way more books than we ever read. And we want to bring you to our conversations that express our love for Judaism and make it relevant in the world as we mine Jewish wisdom for strength and resilience in these unprecedented times with a dose of humor. Because as Emily Saliers of The Indigo Girl says, "You have to laugh at yourself because you'd cry your eyes out if you didn't." Ain't that the truth?

This week we're talking about new beginnings and what to do when they aren't exactly what we expected. How many times since the pandemic started have we thought to ourselves, "Well, after XYZ happens, things will change and get better." Remember the beginning when we thought COVID would last 2 weeks?

And then when we thought, well, it'll be better when it gets warm out.

And then when finally it was Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and we thought, okay, a new year will help. And then RBG died that night.

It's, it's been a hard year for seeking out new beginnings, but it is 2021. And we should name that, yes, it took all of 7 days for this year to go and just really jumped the shark. But nonetheless, thinking about this beginning of a new year, I think we can come to it from a place of there are lots of things to at least not hate. And so here is what we are saying I don't hate to in this new year. Jen, what don't you hate?

I don't hate binge watching Cobra Kai.

Hmm. I don't hate allowing myself to buy the premade cold brew bags from Grady's Iced Coffee. Which has really elevated my iced coffee game.

I don't hate my box of cold brew coffee from Wandering Bear Coffee.

I don't hate the fact that my kids are becoming slightly more winter athletic than they would have otherwise because I am not a skier, but there's not much else to do. So they've learned to ice skate this winter. So I don't hate that.

I don't hate the discovery of peanut M&Ms and gluten-free pretzels together. In one bite.

Ooh, I feel like you could put those both on top of vanilla ice cream and then just really call it a day or a year.

Let's call it a year.

So today we're talking about new beginnings and when they don't quite feel like what you expected or hoped or wanted them to be. And part of that is when you're expecting something and it doesn't pan out quite as planned, what do you do? And Jen, I feel like you have a good story that really illustrates this for us.

We were expecting to get married on Memorial Day of 2020, a very specifically chosen date because it would be Rosh Chodesh, the new Hebrew month. Things would have calmed down a little bit with work, a long weekend for people to travel from near and far to celebrate with us. And as we know, that was not to be. And so we had to figure out what to do. And one of the things I learned from helping other couples in this process of postponing their weddings or managing the time between when they thought it was going to be and when it actually is, was that you have to rely on ritual. You can't just let that date pass you by. And we were so lucky to have great friends who are really good at ritual. Because, you know, rabbis, cantors, educators, it's kind of our field, who on the day of the wedding that would have supposed to be created for us a tish, which is a gathering of toasting and roasting and celebrating together. And we were able to actually open far and wide who we invited because, you know, we didn't have to have a seating chart for everyone to participate on Zoom. And it ended up being the most spectacular Tish celebration. Afterwards, we asked ourselves, did we just get married? Even though we hadn't gotten married yet. And it involved blessings from our parents, blessings from friends and family. Our friend Brett put together a virtual chuppah where everyone created a square. Our friends Rachel and Leora both rabbis, helped us take part in some of the rituals of a wedding. We circled each other once, which was unexpected because my dress hadn't been altered yet and my bra strap was visible. So we kind of dosai dode. We drank from a kiddush cup, another element of the Jewish wedding ceremony. And my sister dressed up as Ariel from The Little Mermaid, and she became my mermaid of honor. Which was really spectacular. My brother rapped, my mom sang, classic Gubitz family. My dad cried, also classic Gubitz family. And it was a really powerful ritual of holding the space until we could get married. And then we did get married. And you know what? Our parents had to be on Zoom because we felt that that was the safest way for us to celebrate and for them to be safe so that they can live to share many other milestones with us in our future. And the most profound thing that happened was that we faced a computer screen and wrapped ourselves in a tallis while our parents blessed us with the priestly benediction. Matan's parents did it in Hebrew. They're Israeli. My parents did it in English. And it felt like they were really blessing us because they were. They were present. And so the ritual was so powerful even as it was reshaped. And it held the space from one moment to the next.

I love that story. You know, a wedding does feel like a great example and probably sort of an easy to understand example of what we mean, that we live in these sort of states of anticipation to anticipation and that COVID and so much of this year has been about really erasing a lot of that possibility. And then what do we do next? And so not just about expecting something and it doesn't pan out as you plan. Like, I think what you're describing is more of, more than a, lemons into lemonade story. And what I hear there, right, is something that, you know, I think our Jewish tradition is so good at, which is giving us words to say, things to do, in some ways clothes to wear, which might sound like a silly thing to say, but I, you know, ritual matters. And when we want to transform, right, we want to be transformed, we want to transform something, right, ritual comes in and says Here's how you can do it. Here's how you can hold that space. And when you tell me that story and you tell all of us that story about your wedding, and I look at our country right now and I look at our world, you know, it feels like our whole country needs a new wedding. <LYRICS>Badarida da da, change is coming. It's an optimistic story.</LYRICS> And in fact, as we record this episode on the Thursday before Inauguration Day, We actually are, as a nation, getting ready for a major ritual of transformation. I can't think of anything— a better way to describe inauguration. So on the one hand, it is this huge new beginning for our country. And there, I think, are a lot of reasons to be hopeful. I know for me, keeping my girls home and ready on next Wednesday to watch as a person of color and the first woman is inaugurated to one of the highest offices in the land, like, that's That's remarkable. Thinking about the potential for change that comes as we look at two of the new senators from Georgia and what that means in the context of not just that state's politics, but for our whole country. We need this new beginning, right? I think that as a nation, like, in order for there to be any sense of healing, in order to be— for there to be a way forward, this ritual needs to hold the moment in a really unique way this year. That a lot of the pomp and circumstance of a typical inauguration are unavailable to us.

I think my only hope for this new wedding, right, this covenant between these two leaders and our country, is that we don't go down the road of a bachelor party that's uncontained. And we dance the hora, but everyone is safe at the end, right? My, my biggest prayer and hope is that, that it really is a day of celebration and also safety.

You know, when I consider some of the things I've heard that are in the works for next week, I think that some of the wisdom that we already see coming forward in anticipation of this ritual of transformation that we call inauguration is also knowing that it's hard to transform that which is broken. And so there needs to be a fixing and a healing first. And that's not going to happen in one day. But when I think about the fact that by next Wednesday, it's likely that 400,000 Americans will have died of COVID-19. When I think about the violence and the deep, deep, deep divisions that exist right now in our country, right, how do we name that? How do we acknowledge that? How do we not fall into the, like you just said, into the accidental trap of sort of a joyful bachelor party in this moment of we're just so excited for change that we skip too quickly past some of the healing and the fixing that has to happen? So I think when we, we go back to our initial premise, right, that we're in the midst of a new beginning that isn't quite the panacea that we hoped it would be, and yet now we have this major moment of ritual transformation ahead of us next week. You know, how can we make a tikkun? Tikkun is that amazing Hebrew word for fixing and repairing that which is broken. And so I want to say to all of our listeners, and as much as I say to all of our listeners, I say it to myself, I say it to you, right? These are the reminders we need. That I think Inauguration Day is worth pausing and allowing ourselves a moment of joy for, you know, for everyone who over the course of this past year has busted their butt in some way or another to raise consciousness, to raise awareness, to help more people vote, to help work against the tide of voter suppression in this country, to help flip Georgia, to help elect Biden, for the people who stayed home, If you have been sitting home this year doing your part and not going out and wearing a mask and distancing from people you loved, and you have skipped milestones and you have replanned weddings and been blessed by your parents through a computer screen on your wedding day, then like let next Wednesday be a day for pause, for the possibility of joy. And I think what we're saying here is create a ritual for the day. So Jen Any ideas for a ritual we could create for Inauguration Day?

I always go back to the moment of Adam in Havdalah when he sees his first sunset and he's afraid of the dark. So I imagine Havdalah actually as a beautiful option. You can do Havdalah, they say, until Tuesday. So what a great Tuesday night, do some Havdalah separating what was from what will be.

New year, new dream, can we let in some light?

Other beautiful rituals I could imagine: writing down intentions, setting intentions for how you hope to participate in democracy for the year to come and the years to come, and also how you hope to be a great neighbor to people you know and people you don't know. And there's another ritual that I've heard about that I think is pretty essential, and it's called Indauguration. As a dog owner and now dog lover of my dear buddy Joey, Joey Biden, and dog-eration is really about, you know, loving hard on your dog and celebrating all of creation on the day a new president will come to be.

So I think, you know, Inauguration Day will be 20 days into this new year. And we will continue to not just hope and pray, but to work and to do the things we need to do, right, to make this tikun, to step forward. And I would imagine that for some of our listeners, like, that all sounds well and good. But what if your reality right now— and I think this is true for a lot of people— is that it's not going to be a ritual? There's no ritual, and you're not really feeling a lot of hope. And you're saying to yourself, hibernating at home with a bag of Doritos is the best that I can do right now. And I think that's true for a lot of people. And I think there are moments that we all feel that way. I know I do.

There was an article this week about how we should just eat chips. So I would hibernate, like I said, with peanut M&Ms and gluten-free pretzels. But what does it mean to just— my dog is laying on the couch next to me showing, modeling for me what it means to hibernate. And, and what happens when we, when we do that? What, what happens in the dead of winter when we just want to crawl into a hole? How do we get out of it?

Well, I think one piece of wisdom for this moment is that you don't have to crawl out yet. You don't have to pull yourself out before you're ready, because there is a lot to keep us all in that place. And, right, sort of the, the yes and moment of the reality we're living in is that, especially for those of us in the Northeast, but I would imagine even for our pals in California, this, the time of year agrees with you. Right? Winter agrees that this would be a great time to just sort of put your head down, pull up a blanket, and stay home. And there is this amazing and beautiful Jewish take on how we are meant to move through winter. So right now I'm looking out my own window, it is snowing, there are icy branches outside my window, it's cold out, and it's going to be like this for another 3 months where I live. And yet I look at my Jewish calendar and in just a couple of weeks, it tells us it's time to celebrate Tu B'Shvat, which is the holiday that celebrates trees. And our Jewish tradition tells us that actually it's considered one of the new years, that the Jewish new year resets itself not once on Rosh Hashanah, but 4 times throughout the year. And that Tu B'Shvat, the 15th of the month of Shvat, is a time to mark a new year for the trees.

It's better than the fiscal year, but it also reaps dividends.

Jen, that was, that was deeply punny. Deeply, deeply funny. So there's this funny thing about the Jewish calendar because, you know, of course we should acknowledge that so much of the traditional Jewish calendar comes out of the rhythms and the seasons of the land of Israel. So here I am looking out my snowy, icy window, and it sure doesn't look like a new year. And, you know, it's the new year of the trees. It's the birthday of the trees. The trees are looking pretty bare right now. I don't see any growth. All I see are those icicles and branches. So what do we do when on the one hand we're being told it's a shiny new beginning, right? It's Tu B'Shvat, or it's inauguration, or it's 2021, and it doesn't feel like quite enough to counteract everything else that is true, right? It doesn't counteract the pandemic, our really messed up country and government right now. Winter. So what do we do, Jen?

I'm reminded of this story of a man who is planting seeds and someone walks by and says, "Why are you bothering?" And he says, "I am planting seeds for the future. I am planting seeds for the generations to come." And I think that that is That's our teaching, is that we still have to plant seeds right now. And whether that's deciding to grow an herb garden in your house hydroponically, or spending some time focusing on self-care, or hoping that the ritual on Wednesday, January 20th, will plant seeds for a future that is bright. We have to plant seeds right now in the dead of winter, even if we don't know what they will yield. And then we have to nurture them. And I think in this moment, not only do we plant those seeds literally, but we are the seed. We are the seed, and we have to, we have to water and nurture ourselves and nurture the seeds of those that we love, knowing that we really can't know what will yield in future seasons, but we are the seeds and we must continue to nurture ourselves.

It's such a beautiful teaching. And maybe people like me who are sometimes a little impatient are reminded— I'm reminded of the line in Oh, the Places You'll Go by Dr. Seuss about being in the waiting place. And when you're in the waiting place, there's like nothing to do except to sit there and wait. And in some ways, like, this winter feels like the waiting place, even as we are the seeds and even as we plant other seeds. I will admit I have like a brown thumb. I kill all living beings except for my children. I cannot keep plants alive. But what I know about trying is that it's excruciatingly boring to sit and watch and wait because it doesn't look like anything is happening. And it reminds me of this incredible teaching that I read a few years ago that I come back to every year at this season. And it's from our colleague Rabbi Jill Hammer, who has this beautiful book called The Jewish Book of Days. And she has this great wisdom for the season of winter when we are turning inward and we're spending so much time waiting. Rabbi Hammer points out that this winter season that we're in right now on the Jewish calendar is comprised of the Hebrew months of Tevet, Shvat, and Adar. And it's a— those are 3 months that contain no pilgrimage festivals because after all, in the cold of winter, you can't travel. You stay put. It makes sense. And Hammer teaches that these months fall during a time that the sages describe as Yemot Hagishamim, or the days of rain, where the skies are dim and you naturally turn inward. And so I think those are beautiful images for this waiting period. And Rabbi Hammer keeps going on this, on this train of thought, right? What, what are we meant to do when we're waiting? What are we meant to do during these 3 months that have no pilgrimage festivals, no natural way to draw us out of our homes and into the world? And she suggests that we should be like the Israelites who were in the desert, and they had left Egypt and they weren't yet where they were going. And they were just waiting for God's presence to to descend and to sort of join them on their journey. And so she teaches that the Israelites during the winter season were moved to make their own inner sanctuaries. Basically, it became time for the Kripalu of the mind, right? That wintertime was going to be this time to be really conscious about personal and spiritual work so that when it was time to move, right, when it was time to come forward and to receive God's presence and to stop waiting and for the anticipation to finally end, that we ourselves would be ready because we had done all of this inner spiritual preparation, which I think is this really beautiful idea. There's this whole other piece that maybe feels like it lives more naturally in our world right now, which is that on the one hand, there's no pilgrimage festivals, right? There's no reason why the Israelites during those 3 months would have to get up and go to the temple. But it does have 3 other holidays in it. It has Hanukkah, which we just celebrated. It has Tu B'Shvat, which we're talking about now, and it has Purim, which will come later at the end of February. And so what are the 3 lessons we take from these winter holidays, from this time of staying inside, staying home, sort of inner, you know, preparation? And it's that these 3 holidays remind us of 3 really important things to sustain us in the hard times of winter. Hanukkah reminds us of miracles, and Tu B'Shvat reminds us that blossoming is often celebrated long after planting. I love that. Right, for the person who can't keep a plant alive to save my life, sort of a funny thing to say, that we don't celebrate reaping for a long, long time until after we sow.

And finally, Purim, the joy and laughter can be healing. All of which is to say that this period of spiritual dormancy, as she says, is actually a period of subtle growth, which means plant your seed on your couch, eat your Doritos, and in time we will reap in joy.

I have a wonderful person I know here who grows the most beautiful flowers in her garden, and she likes to tell me about it because I have told her how bad I am at keeping plants and flowers alive. And she says that what gives her hope in the wintertime is knowing that her tulip bulbs are doing their job, which is a really beautiful thing to think about when you're like, there's 6 inches of snow outside my window, right? Like, there's nothing going on out there. But underneath those 6 inches of snow and maybe 6 inches further down into the dirt, Tulip bulbs are doing their job. What an amazing thing.

I suck at even keeping succulents alive. I've overwatered cactuses. Cact— I have learned too much about plurals. I have overwatered cacti and esophagi. We want to offer a prayer for seeking wholeness and healing, our ritual for inauguration, a prayer for healing. We pray now, Misha Berach, to the source of blessing. Repair the rent garments of our souls.

Stitch the ripped fabrics of our society. Bandage our hearts.

Cure our sickness. Treat our ailments. Lighten the burden of our treatments.

Give us strength. Offer us relief. Release us from suffering.

Heal my dad. Guard my mom. Soothe my sister. Love my brother. Support my loved one. Revive my friend.

Nurture all who live in the in-between. Notice all who are unseen.

Renew our courage. Restore our breaches. Rescue our wholeness. Root us all in the ever-sturdy tree of life.

Misha berach nishmotenu. May the one who blesses all of our souls bring us healing. Healing, and bless us with love, understanding, wholeness, and peace. Amen.

This week's episode of the OMFG podcast was brought to you by Rabbis Jen Gubitz and Jodi Gordon, with great music from Alana Aryan, Torah from Rabbi Jill Hammer, and brought to you by The Letter F.

What's your favorite word that starts with F? Ah! Food! Yeah? What about that bad word Daddy always says? Should I say it? No.