Able to Renew

I know many people wonder about the concept of Shabbat--taking one day each week to stop everything else that's going on in one's life. To take time each week to focus in prayer. I know I wonder about it, and I'm someone who follows this practice almost every week. Yesterday was one of those days that I get an inkling as to the "why."

If you read my previous post, you know that I am feeling at a loss for my spiritual center. The post ended with the possibility that this feeling was coming at the right time--a the start of Elul, the month dedicated to turning inward and finding Teshuvah, a returning to a spiritual place from which to start the new year. While I wrote those words, I don't know that I actually agreed with their message. But yesterday brought me in sync with those thoughts.

At services, I let go of one of my usual tasks during the service-giving out the honors--and really got a chance to let go of the exterior forces around me to enter that sacred space. I read Torah--a bit nervous because I had to learn a long portion at the last minute. But that forced me to chant more slowly, letting my mind and my eyes and my voice come into sync. It felt good. I was able to have a part in the kid's program, playing the role of gathering the "troops" to march into the sanctuary to help lead the ending prayers of the service--while first, of course, making sure no one needed to dedicate a new house, get married, or harvest a vineyard, as noted in this week's Torah parsha (see this text of Shoftim, the beginning of Deuteronomy Chapter 20).

And I got to connect with my community--at Kiddish, at a Welcome Home/Happy Birthday gathering, at a stand-up comedy showcase in support of a friend. These things also served as reminders of what this practice brings to me. For within this time of introspection is also the realization that I am not alone--there are others around me to help me and walk with me on the way.

So now I can truly start my month of Elul--still feeling the lows but trusting in the process--remembering what it brings to me.