It was not only Lynn’s wisdom, but her welcoming of everyone at 9:00 am with a ritual… that brought me to tears. Quite simply, she led us in singing a Spanish song about peace. The call and response, the standing together, the meditative quality of it all, changed the air in a ballroom at the Hollywood Renaissance, and it became a sacred space.

I believe in the power of ritual to lift us from the ordinary and to connect us to one another.

PS. I saw a great South Park Easter Special last night. Stan wants someone to explain to him how dyeing eggs different colors has to do with Jesus dying for his sins. I thought it was cool… to question the meaning of the ritual, to want there to be a link.

I’ve had many years and numerous life events when I have appreciated the structure of the rituals in my life, much as hangars, to hold my different feelings, thoughts and needs, but still to organize.

I had removed myself from any religious observance until my sister was dying. At that point I returned to synagogue because I needed an historical context for her life, for her life and my life and for the struggle on that boundaries of life and death. I did not return because I needed God, or relligion per se, but rather as a container, which ritual can and often is.

It was there, in synagogue, on Friday nights, where the singing generated the deep rhythmic breathing that allowed the tears to flow. And , it was only there that they did flow. The ritual of attending and of the release helped to sustain me through her illness.

After she died I said Kaddish for her and that too provided the structure, the time set aside to remember, which made it easier to let it go at other points during the day.

And, going through my divorce, I wondered, focused upon those moments when ritual was a coming together and a coconstruction, how I would weather holidays, such as Passover. The anticipation was fraught, but the ritual, the structure held. And, as you have pointed out, it was a familiar place to visit, but with new meaning and resonance. ( I actually prefer it without him!)

As to your other point, for whatever it’s worth, in Judaism you are supposed to do the ritual even if it has no meaning to you. You do the ‘right thing’ and the assumption is ,is that the “Kavanah”, intention will come. You cannot wait until you have the ‘right’ feeling to do the right thing.

We live in times where we are exposed to so many religious and spritutal practices and some speak to us either in terms of their intial intent, or we take them on in our own lexicon. Can it be trite, a ‘fashion statement’? Sure it can. But we can’t always judge why someone is doing something. It’s often hard enough for us to know why we are doing iwhat we are.

There is, however, the possbility of offending someone else’s deeply held beliefs if they experience the donning of bracelets as treating their relgion as a smorgesbord with the option of taking certain rituals and ritual objects and leaving others. My guess would be that one’s attifude toward this would depend upon how fundimentalist or liberal one is in one’s own belief system.

Time to go to sleep.

This may be a bigger subject for a different post, but when do you think appropriation crosses the “respectful” line and enters the “exploitation/Orientalism” zone? Maybe this is a question laden with white guilt; I’m not sure. A tentative answer to my own question would be: when the sacred ritual element or energy is removed, and the act is done purely for the visual/trendy appeal.

Thoughts?

Even though I grew up Methodist, there were several years where our church held a Passover supper. I don’t remember if we read from the Haggadah, but I remember those bitter greens.

This Monday, I attended my friend’s Seder in Hoboken. There were 15 of us gathered around their table, but only four were Jewish. Still — and perhaps because of this — I was profoundly moved by the Haggadah readings, and the ritual. (I actually stole one of the photocopies because I enjoyed it so much. Don’t worry, I told her I was taking it.)

I love that you want to share your freedom with others. You have a lot to give, and you do it so well.