This piece was posted to the "Rabbis Unsensored" blog of the Jewish Exponent today by my colleague Rabbi Elisa Goldberg. I commented on the post, and am pasting below both her post and my response. You can also find it by visiting the Jewish Exponent website.
How Do We Find a Connection to God?
Jewish Exponent |
05/26/2015 8:40 PM
By Rabbi Elisa Goldberg
Jews rarely talk about faith. We like to talk about many subjects — history, community, mitzvot and tikkun olam. In community forums, we debate issues of continuity, inclusion, Israel and anti-Semitism. But we rarely discuss our personal relationship to the Divine. Jews are often more comfortable “doing“ and “being” Jewish than exploring our beliefs about life’s mysteries. Unfortunately, when the inevitable challenges of life arise, many are left without a spiritual foundation to anchor them in the maelstrom.
I am reminded of a woman I know who had a rich Jewish life. She and her family were regulars at Shabbat services, celebrated all the holidays, kept kosher, sent their kids to Jewish schools and gave tzedakah to Jewish causes. Unfortunately, just as they reached retirement age, her husband died of a fast-moving cancer and her loss triggered an existential crisis.
Despite her deep involvement in the Jewish world, she had no language to describe her shattered world. She questioned her husband’s untimely death and felt anger at a God she didn’t quite believe in. Having never cultivated a sense of God’s presence in her life, she felt adrift in the midst of her suffering. The prayers and rituals that had for so many years been the center of family and community gatherings, offered her little guidance or comfort as she sought meaning in her loss.
My friend is not alone in her experience. As a chaplain, when I make hospital visits to Jewish patients, I often hear: “Thanks for stopping by, rabbi, but I’m not very religious.” It isn’t until I offer to pray that people realize that the liturgy can have relevance to their lives — that their illness, like their life, is part of a sacred journey.
While it is human nature to seek out God in the midst of trouble (no one’s an atheist in a foxhole), it is essential to develop a language of spirituality before tragedy strikes. I describe this as preventive spiritual care — nurturing the spirit and developing a relationship with the Divine. For me, the most profound form of this has been what is called "spiritual direction," an ongoing practice of spiritual exploration that deepens the sense of the sacred in all aspects of life.
For more than 15 years, I have met with my spiritual director in monthly sessions and sought God’s presence through the challenges and blessings of daily life. When my daughter was a newborn, I held her in my lap and reveled in the miracle of God’s creation. And years earlier, when I went through a painful breakup, I shed tears of longing for a reminder of God’s love. Each session brings deeper and more subtle knowledge of the ways in which the sacred threads throughout every aspect of my life.
As a chaplain, I am repeatedly struck by the Jewish discomfort with God-talk. Perhaps it is the result of centuries of communal trauma, the force of assimilation or the impact of a liturgical language that most don’t understand. Whatever the reason, it leaves us with a challenge: How do we develop a personal relationship to the Divine that can sustain us in both good and bad times? How do we make the connection between the richness of Jewish teaching and the profound questions of human existence? And how do we nurture spiritual wellness in ourselves and our communities?
Rabbi Elisa Goldberg is a community chaplain and co-president of the Board of Rabbis of Greater Philadelphia.
Rabbi Leah Richman responds:
Recently on "NBC Nightly News," I saw a clip about a designer of greeting cards for those with serious illnesses whose messages have been incredibly popular. Her best-seller reads, "Let me be the first to punch the next person who tells you that everything happens for a reason." This news story made me a little bit sad. Indeed, in rabbinical school, I was trained to avoid such statements when providing pastoral care as they are deemed insensitive. Many of my colleagues feel a God that allows suffering but could prevent it is a cruel God — not a God they want to believe in. I often had the feeling that as far as my colleagues were concerned, believing in a personal God was thought of as primitive, unsophisticated and not at all useful.
I concur with Rabbi Goldberg that the Jewish community loses out when we do not confront the existential crises of our lives before they occur. I observe, however, no lack of God-talk in the Orthodox community and I know that I have been inspired by many traditional teachings over the years. Perhaps some teachings from our Orthodox friends would be an entry point into answering Rabbi Goldberg’s question: “How do we nurture spiritual wellness in ourselves and in our communities?” I would never tell someone I don’t know well that everything happens for a reason, but I no longer feel apologetic about believing in a personal God. If I did not believe everything happens for a reason, I am not sure how I would get through life’s trials.
How Do We Find a Connection to God?
Jewish Exponent |
05/26/2015 8:40 PM
By Rabbi Elisa Goldberg
Jews rarely talk about faith. We like to talk about many subjects — history, community, mitzvot and tikkun olam. In community forums, we debate issues of continuity, inclusion, Israel and anti-Semitism. But we rarely discuss our personal relationship to the Divine. Jews are often more comfortable “doing“ and “being” Jewish than exploring our beliefs about life’s mysteries. Unfortunately, when the inevitable challenges of life arise, many are left without a spiritual foundation to anchor them in the maelstrom.
I am reminded of a woman I know who had a rich Jewish life. She and her family were regulars at Shabbat services, celebrated all the holidays, kept kosher, sent their kids to Jewish schools and gave tzedakah to Jewish causes. Unfortunately, just as they reached retirement age, her husband died of a fast-moving cancer and her loss triggered an existential crisis.
Despite her deep involvement in the Jewish world, she had no language to describe her shattered world. She questioned her husband’s untimely death and felt anger at a God she didn’t quite believe in. Having never cultivated a sense of God’s presence in her life, she felt adrift in the midst of her suffering. The prayers and rituals that had for so many years been the center of family and community gatherings, offered her little guidance or comfort as she sought meaning in her loss.
My friend is not alone in her experience. As a chaplain, when I make hospital visits to Jewish patients, I often hear: “Thanks for stopping by, rabbi, but I’m not very religious.” It isn’t until I offer to pray that people realize that the liturgy can have relevance to their lives — that their illness, like their life, is part of a sacred journey.
While it is human nature to seek out God in the midst of trouble (no one’s an atheist in a foxhole), it is essential to develop a language of spirituality before tragedy strikes. I describe this as preventive spiritual care — nurturing the spirit and developing a relationship with the Divine. For me, the most profound form of this has been what is called "spiritual direction," an ongoing practice of spiritual exploration that deepens the sense of the sacred in all aspects of life.
For more than 15 years, I have met with my spiritual director in monthly sessions and sought God’s presence through the challenges and blessings of daily life. When my daughter was a newborn, I held her in my lap and reveled in the miracle of God’s creation. And years earlier, when I went through a painful breakup, I shed tears of longing for a reminder of God’s love. Each session brings deeper and more subtle knowledge of the ways in which the sacred threads throughout every aspect of my life.
As a chaplain, I am repeatedly struck by the Jewish discomfort with God-talk. Perhaps it is the result of centuries of communal trauma, the force of assimilation or the impact of a liturgical language that most don’t understand. Whatever the reason, it leaves us with a challenge: How do we develop a personal relationship to the Divine that can sustain us in both good and bad times? How do we make the connection between the richness of Jewish teaching and the profound questions of human existence? And how do we nurture spiritual wellness in ourselves and our communities?
Rabbi Elisa Goldberg is a community chaplain and co-president of the Board of Rabbis of Greater Philadelphia.
Rabbi Leah Richman responds:
Recently on "NBC Nightly News," I saw a clip about a designer of greeting cards for those with serious illnesses whose messages have been incredibly popular. Her best-seller reads, "Let me be the first to punch the next person who tells you that everything happens for a reason." This news story made me a little bit sad. Indeed, in rabbinical school, I was trained to avoid such statements when providing pastoral care as they are deemed insensitive. Many of my colleagues feel a God that allows suffering but could prevent it is a cruel God — not a God they want to believe in. I often had the feeling that as far as my colleagues were concerned, believing in a personal God was thought of as primitive, unsophisticated and not at all useful.
I concur with Rabbi Goldberg that the Jewish community loses out when we do not confront the existential crises of our lives before they occur. I observe, however, no lack of God-talk in the Orthodox community and I know that I have been inspired by many traditional teachings over the years. Perhaps some teachings from our Orthodox friends would be an entry point into answering Rabbi Goldberg’s question: “How do we nurture spiritual wellness in ourselves and in our communities?” I would never tell someone I don’t know well that everything happens for a reason, but I no longer feel apologetic about believing in a personal God. If I did not believe everything happens for a reason, I am not sure how I would get through life’s trials.
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