Action is the Magic Word

That's something my mother used to say. Here's what Benjamin Disraeli had to say on the subject: Action may not always bring happiness; but there is no happiness without action.

I've been having a serious problem with procrastination lately. Whenever I think about the chores that I'm not doing, I feel really bad. But when I take myself in hand and actually dig into them, it's not so bad. And I feel much better as I actually get stuff done.

There has to be some reason that I hang back from my duties despite the emotional unpleasantness it causes. And some reason why I keep forgetting how much better it feels to dig in and dig out. It's a puzzlement to me.

Sophia and Prudence

I produced this year's TIkkun Leil Shavuot (late-night study in celebration of the Jewish festival of Shavuot) at my synagogue. I put together and co-led the festival evening service, recruited seven teachers and prepared and taught my own class on meditation, and dealt with logistics and publicity. As a reward, I arranged to have my favorite synagogian, Andrew Ramer, teach a class on writing gay midrash - which he has done on several prior occasions that I somehow couldn't manage to attend. He gave us a few pages of Biblical texts that could easily be read to have queer implications, and invited those of us who wished to write on them to do so.

I picked the following two quotes from the book of Proverbs: I, Wisdom, live with Prudence. Chochmah/Sophia/Wisdom cries aloud in the streets, raises her voice in the squares. At the head of busy streets she calls, at the entrance of the gates, in the city, she speaks out. Say to Sophia, "You are my sister."

While continuing to listen to Andrew, I wrote the following:

Sophia speaks out at the entrance of the gates in the city. She lives with Prudence, who is a therapist. Sophie participates in "Take Back the Night" marches, and corners politicians in their offices, while Prudence writes letters to the editor. They met in a consciousness-raising group in the 70s and have been together ever since.

Prayer for Social Activists

I just learned that the new Reform prayerbook, Mishkan Tefilah, includes the following as an alternative to the strict translation of Mah Tovu:

May the One whose spirit is with us in every righteous deed,
be with all who work for the good of humanity
and bear the burdens of others,
and who give bread to the hungry,
who clothe the naked,
and take the friendless into their homes.
May the work of their hands endure,
and may the seed they sow bring abundant harvest.

It seems like a really good invocation for SFOP meetings and for activists and helpers of every stripe.

The Season of Birds and Bees

Spring has sprung in my neck of the woods, and birdsong has blossomed forth along with the cherry trees. The increased hours of sun improve my mood immensely. And I'm learning to chant the festival melodies for a few verses of the Song of Songs for services this Shabbat.

In case you're not familiar with it, the Song of Songs is a book of the Bible (Jewish and Christian) that is leaping with erotic poetry and imagery from the natural world. It's assigned to be read in synagogues during the week of Passover, which is itself a springtime festival.

The eroticism of the season is not confined to the Bible. Yesterday, on my way home, I saw two blackbirds engaged in copulation. And this noon, on my way to lunch, I saw two pigeons similarly occupied. The emerging blossoms and increased light appear to be an avian aphrodisiac.

Ah, to be young and feathered!

And Another Blessing

That I wrote in a Kavvanot Class that the rabbi led maybe a year ago. We were asked to write a blessing for what we wanted for ourselves, now:

In the Divine image You created us, Adonai. We strive to measure up to that image, and fail, and get up, and strive again. Please teach us that we grow closer to Your image every time we get up, and give us joy in that knowledge. Blessed are You, Adonai, who lifts up the fallen.

Leftover Prayer

For some strange reason, I left out one of the prayers that I wrote at the last session. It didn't get posted here, it didn't get sent to the prayerbook editors, and it will probably get left out.

But I've been thinking about it the last several days, and finally located it. So, here it is, and I might as well send it on to the prayerbook people too. It's a second pre-Shema kavvanah, and they've already selected one of mine for rather prominent featuring, so I may be competing with myself here.

Help us, Creator of Unity, to pull together our scattered selves into one, to collect our thoughts and bring them here, and to be fully present now, with ourselves, with each other, and with You.

Viva Esther!

Happy Purim and Chag Sameach, All,

I went to the synagogue's Purim party last night for the first time in a decade or so. One of the major attractions of Purim is the commandment to get drunk, and since I don't drink, I lack that incentive to attend. This year, I was asked to chant some of the Megillah, the Hebrew book of Esther. Since I want to keep up my chanting abilities, I agreed to do so, but was a bit taken back on learining that I'd have to chant from a Hebrew scroll without vowels or punctuation, like the Torah.

I had another chant in the queue first, and didn't start learning the portion until after the gay Jewish retreat at which I chanted a bit of Torah. I was talking to one of the rabbis in attendance about the Megillah chant, and she mentioned that she had heard someone chant Megillah to the tune of "Don't cry for me, Argentina," and it brought the house down. Lightbulb time.

I had been planning to attend the party (which is a costume event) as Carmen Miranda. So, I thought I'd chant my portion to a melody from the opera Carmen, the Habanera. I had to do serious surgery on the music to make it fit the Hebrew words of the chant instead of the original French text. And then memorize what I'd figured out so I could chant it with only the Hebrew consonants on the Megillah scroll to remind me.

It went almost as well as I'd hoped. I wore dark lipstick and my mother's chunky jewelry and a sarong/toga wrap of glittery silver/purple/green fabric, and a matching head wrap with plastic fruit attached using sticky-backed velcro tabs. The look was so NOT me. I'm more a tailored, L.L. Bean/preppy kind of gal.)

I was a little worried about deviating so far from the prescribed chant melody, but the first chanter also left it in the dust, doing a wonderful hillbilly rabbi sort of thing in coveralls with a southern hill accent. Intervening chanters who had followed the rules were nearly ignored. When I got up there and belted my high first note in a trained operatic soprano, people sat up and took notice, and when they figured out what I was singing and got the musical joke, some started to clap along in rhythm. Cries of 'Bravo' and 'Encore' greeted me on the way back to my seat.

I'm already thinking of what to do for next year. ...