Author: Susan Levine

Objects as Storytellers: CoEvolving with Thomas Berry by Cara Judea Alhadeff, Ph.D. This video excerpt made with Jay Canode and Shahab Zagari plays with the absurdity and complexity of our consumption-obsessed, waste-oblivious society–particularly in the midst of greenwashing, environmental racism / green colonialism, and the fallacious “renewable” energies movement. Dancing in front of a diptych of West Virginian children coal miners from the 1800s with Congolese children lithium miners, I am wearing Ellza Coyle’s VHS tape-ribbon hand-knitted, moebius-looped dress–(inspired by the artist’s loom-woven cassette-tape outfits). The VHS ribbons are made from mylar that is coated with toxic metals—allowing the tape to carry a magnetic signal, allowing the tape to tell stories. Cobalt (essential for battery production for “green” products like electric vehicles) is mined in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Like lithium, cobalt’s humanitarian and environmental costs are perpetuated by wanton corruption—spurring ecological extermination, child slavery, and death. Additionally, battery waste, as well as every link in the solar and wind technology supply chain, is dumped throughout Asia, South America, and Africa. In front of a variety of projected images, I danced those woven stories—exposing their fertile contradictions. Through music and film, this biohazardous VHS-mylar material connects us and expresses some of our most intimate storytelling (multiple stories told through pop-culture movies, cross-cultural and nature documentaries, and self-help videos recorded on VHS tapes). My presentation created a provocative more expansive story: combining these intimacies with our contemporary calamity of plastic accumulation and disposal—where there is no “away,” particularly for vulnerable, underserved communities. I explored repurposing toxic materials— temporarily keeping them out of landfill, providing momentary reprieve from the devastating impacts of electronic waste and petroleum-plastic’s death cult, while demonstrating the possibility for biosynergistic life choices that refuse these normalcies. I traversed four woven layers that investigate the tension between climate chaos and climate resiliency. Techne, the Latin root of technology means “to fabricate,” “to weave.” Dancing verbal and body-based stories, I wore these technologies—contradictory community weavings. As an attempt to help guide our transition from the Anthropocene to the Ecozoic, I conclude with Thomas Berry. Dr. Cara Judea Alhadeff has published dozens of books and essays on interreligious eco-justice, philosophy, ethnic studies and gender. Her photographs (in collections including MoMASalzburg and San Francisco MoMA) have been defended internationally by freedom-of-speech organizations. Former professor at UC Santa Cruz, Alhadeff teaches, performs, and parents a creative-zero-waste life: www.carajudeaalhadeff.com.

Living in a Fragile World: A Torah Godly Play Story by Rabbi Michael Shire ~I wonder if you have ever looked up at the night sky and wondered how big it is…how far it stretches…..how immense the universe is……?  Or how there are thousands upon thousands of suns, stars, planets and moons, thousands of solar systems and galaxies?  And I wonder how you feel when you look up into the vast space and how see how very big it is?  I wonder what you feel when you realize that you are part of it…and also that it is part of you?  And God saw all there was in the universe and said ‘It is good’  In that vast space there is one very small planet and it is our earth. When seen from space, earth looks like one great swirling mass of blue because a large part of it is made up of water.  And God saw all the water and said ‘It is very good.’  As you get closer to earth, you see great masses of colorful lands. Some are so big they contain many countries.  And God Said, ‘I will fill the land with every kind, creatures that fly in the air and creatures that swim in the waters and creatures that walk on the land.  Then God said, ‘Let us make people in the image of God, male and female’. God rested and gave us the gift of rest.  The angels asked, ’Is the world finished?’ And God said, ‘Go ask the people’. And God said to the people, ‘See my world, how beautiful it is. Do not do anything to hurt or destroy it because there will be no one to fix it after you.’  The people began to build cities with houses large and small. They cut down trees from the forests and filled up the open spaces. Some animals lost their homes and the lack of trees caused flooding in the land.  The people made roads and train tracks so that they could travel by car and train and plane. But the fumes from the cities and the cars sent smoke into the air. It made a heavy blanket heating up the earth causing the icecaps to melt and the seas to rise. People had trouble breathing the air in the big cities.  People threw trash and spilled oil into the seas and some creatures that swim in the waters couldn’t live there anymore.  Now the water and the land, the green and growing things and the creatures in the air and seas and on the land and the people were in trouble. And God looked at the world and said….  Wondering Questions:  I wonder what you think God said?  I wonder which part of the story you liked best?  I wonder which part of the story is the most important?  I wonder what might happen next?  I wonder what we might do to make the world beautiful again?  Michael Shire is the Rabbi of Central Reform Temple, Boston, and Professor at Hebrew College Boston.

Canadian Wilderness by Rabbi Margaret Frisch Klein I am a lifelong Girl Scout. My love of the out-of-doors comes from many years camping, hiking, canoeing at Girl Scout camps throughout the Midwest, New England and yes Canada.  All summer I have been haunted by an old camp song, known as “Canadian Wilderness” or “The Life of a Voyager”. One verse sings: “Call of the lonely looncoyotes howling at the moonwind rustling through the treesthat’s a Canadian breezesmoke rising from the fireup through the trees in a stately spirebreathe a sigh in the evening glowsun goes down, those north winds blow” It paints a picture of canoeing from town to town and the beauty of the wilderness. This has been the summer of smoke. Smoke from Canada. Smoke from wildfires. Beautiful sunsets. But those sunsets belie the fact that the smoke is dangerous.  Air quality alert days. Hard to breathe. Apocalyptic looking photos. Must stay inside. This is not a new problem. Years ago, Canada was not happy with the United States for sending acid rain to Canada. Now we hear some Americans unhappy with Canada for the smoke. The American government has sent aid. Still, it is not enough. Those fires, multiple fires may not even be fully out until after the first snowfall. It is not Canada’s fault alone. Climate change is real. It is hard to deny it, although some do, in this the hottest summer ever recorded. Ocean water temperatures in Florida of over 100 degrees. More than 15 days of scorching heat in the desert southwest of more than 115 degrees. Athens at 111 degrees—and Greece has fires too. Drought in Illinois leading to early fall leaves falling off trees in June. Tornados and floods and other storms. This is a global problem. It demands a global solution. Not years from now. Right now. It also demands spiritual discipline. One of the first steps in teshuvah, returning, repentance is confessing our sins. Part of the Yom Kippur liturgy is reciting Al Chet, “ For the sin which we have sinned…” Here are few new verses for this emergency: For the sin which we have sinned by not taking care of the earth. And for the sin which we have sinned with our haughtiness. For the sin which we have sinned by not listening to and believing scientists And for the sin which we have sinned by denying what is happening. For the sin which we have sinned by not realizing how interconnected we are. And for the sin which we have sinned by not recognizing that our individual actions impact others, For the sin which we have sinned by our reliance on fossil fuels. And for the sin which we have sinned by not developing and using alternative energy sources. For the sin which we have sinned by not protecting our waterways. And for the sin which we have sinned by not providing drinkable water. For the sin which we have sinned by continuing to purchasing to excessAnd for the sin which we have sinned by using too much packaging. For the sin which we have sinned by wanting food at any time from anywhere.And for the sin which we have sinned by not supporting local farms and buying food “in season.” For the sin which we have sinned by refusing to act.And for the sin which we have sinned by refusing to protect our inheritance for the next generations. For all of these sins, O G-d of Creation, pardon us, forgive us, grant us atonementFor all of these sins, Ruler of the whole Universe, inspire us, strengthen us and give us the courage to repair Your world. Rabbi Margaret Frisch Klein is the rabbi of Congregation Kneseth Israel in Elgin, IL, where she enjoys hiking and running. She blogs as the Energizer Rabbi, www.theenergizerrabbi.org and has two books published. (Climbing Towards Yom Kippur, and Enduring Spirit) She serves on a number of non-profit boards including the Association of Rabbis and Cantors, the Coalition of Elgin Religious Leaders, the Community Leadership Board of St. Joseph Hospital and volunteers as an Elgin Police Chaplain.

Creatress of Night and Day by Rabbi Louis Polisson ~Blessed is She Who causes day to pass and brings the night (1) May She raise up perfect healing to all who are struck (2) Whether they are silent, plant, a living animal, a speaking being (3) Light from darkness, darkness from light (1) May She bring us out from the demonic fire (4) Selfishness The harmful impulse May She cause us to cleave to the good impulse and acts of repair (5) Deeds of healing In wisdom She opens the gates of righteousness (1, 6) And in understanding she diversifies created beings (1, 7) At the end of the year Facing the head of the year We have come to sanctify the darkness (8) To repair the world through the sovereign presence of the Mighty One (9) To distinguish and to unite and to become one Between day and night (1) Living and enduring Spirit (10) May You always guide us, forever and ever Blessed is She Creatress of the mixtures of evenings (1) אור מחשך וחשך מאור הוֹצִיאִינו מאור שדי אנוכיות יצר הרע ודבקי אותנו ביצר הטוב ומעשי תיקון מעשי רפואה בחכמה פותחת שערי צדק ובתבונה מְשַׁנָּה את הבריות בסוף השנה פני ראש השנה באנו חשך לקדש לתקן עולם במלכות שדי להבדיל ולאחד אלהאחד  בין יום ובין לילה רוח חי וקים תמיד תִּמְלְכִי עלינו לעולָם ועד ברוכה היא המעריבה ערבים Louis Polisson is a musician, poet, and rabbi, ordained by the Jewish Theological Seminary in 2018, where he also earned an MA in Jewish Thought focusing on Kabbalah and Ḥasidut. He currently serves as the Associate Rabbi and Music Director at Congregation Beth Sholom in Teaneck, New Jersey. He previously served for five years as the solo clergy of Congregation Or Atid in Wayland, Massachusetts. Louis and his wife Gabriella Feingold released an album of original Jewish and nature-based spiritual folk music in November 2018 – listen at https://louisandgabriella.bandcamp.com/album/as-full-of-song-as-the-sea. Sources cited and/or paraphrased: 1.The Ma’ariv Aravim Blessing:  https://www.sefaria.org/Siddur_Ashkenaz%2C_Weekday%2C_Maariv%2C_Blessings_of_the_ Shema%2C_First_Blessing_before_Shema.1?lang=bi 2.The Healing Blessing from the Weekday Amidah:  https://www.sefaria.org/Siddur_Ashkenaz%2C_Weekday%2C_Shacharit%2C_Amidah%2C_ Healing?lang=bi  3. Likkutei Moharan 4:8: https://www.sefaria.org/Likutei_Moharan.4.8.3?lang=bi&with=all&lang2=en  4. Nehemiah 9:7, also in the daily morning liturgy near the end of Pesukei De-Zimra:  https://www.sefaria.org/Nehemiah.9.7?lang=bi and https://www.sefaria.org/Siddur_Ashkenaz%2C_Weekday%2C_Shacharit%2C_Pesukei_Dezimra%2C_Ata_Hu.1?lang=bi  5. From Birkhot Ha-Shaḥar/the Morning Blessings:  https://www.sefaria.org/Siddur_Ashkenaz%2C_Weekday%2C_Shacharit%2C_Preparatory_Prayers%2C_Morning_Blessings.17?lang=bi  6. Psalm 118:19, well-known from Hallel: https://www.sefaria.org/Hallel.11?lang=bi&with=all&lang2=en  7. Blessing for seeing diverse beings: https://www.sefaria.org/Mishneh_Torah%2C_Blessings.10.12?lang=bi   8. Banu Ḥoshekh Le-Kaddeish by Rabbi Jill Hammer (adapted from Banu Ḥoshekh Le-Gareish by Sara Levi-Tanai): https://opensiddur.org/prayers/lunisolar/commemorative-days/hanukkah/banu-hoshekh-lqadesh-we-come-to-sanctify-the-dark-by-david-seidenberg-and-jill-hammer 9.Aleinu: https://www.sefaria.org/Siddur_Ashkenaz%2C_Weekday%2C_Shacharit%2C_Concluding_Prayers%2C_Alenu.2?lang=bi&with=all&lang2=en  10.Modeh/Modah Ani:  https://www.sefaria.org/Siddur_Ashkenaz%2C_Weekday%2C_Shacharit%2C_Preparatory_Prayers%2C_Modeh_Ani?lang=bi 

Blessed by Judith Felsen, Ph.D. ~Blessed are we who have strayed and returned called back by Your mercy, awakened from selfishness to holiness, from cruelty to kindness. Unseeing we concealed, justified, perfected, means to reach our ends, claim desires, perhaps ignorant of damage done, unaware of straying far from You. Detours often deadly to our peace, balance and well- being are brought to halt, corrected paths of our atonement filled, with deep regret, our shame and sadness, healthy guilt a guide of our return to holiness. Returned we recognize the place from which we came. Blessed we are to live in 13 Attributes divine, enriched with lessons, errors, sins corrected, trails cleared with soul emancipated, debris of our myopia no longer in the way. Blessed we are to have another chance, Elul a context for amends, atonement is our action. We walk in humbleness with flaws exposed, a time to for gratitude and grace that we are seen, rebuked, and redirected. The path we follow to Your palace takes us home. With You and worthiness which we have earned in Elul’s regimen, we now feel ready. Reconnected, we are one. Baruch Hashem Judith Felsen, Ph.D.  is a 2nd generation Holocaust survivor, Baal teshuvah aspirant, more of a poetess, hiker, walker, mystic, dancer and naturalist than a psychologist. Judith, wife of Jack and dog mother of Emmy (aging Newfy) is a resident of Bartlett, New Hampshire and a member of the Bethlehem Hebrew Congregation where she offers the dvar Torah for Kabbalat Shabbat services from October through June. Judith has been blessed to continue to experience rabbi Katy as a muse currently and for several decades.

Priestly Atonement and Cleansing the Environment by Andy Oram ~Can you really have an impact on climate change by switching to veggie burgers or lowering the heat in Winter? How about making a change at work that shaves some of the carbon footprint off of your product? Do these really matter when the world continues to pump tons more carbon into the atmosphere each year? The Jewish tradition offers a useful perspective on this question in the afternoon Yom Kippur service, where we recreate the atonement ceremonies of the Temple’s High Priest. Atonement is divided by this tradition into three parts that must be observed in strict order: first the High Priest’s family, then the house of Aaron, and finally the whole people. Leviticus 16:17 hints briefly at this three-part ceremony preceding the release of the scapegoat, but the ceremony does not appear in the meticulously detailed Talmud tractate about Yom Kippur, and seems to have been imagined by much later generations. Let’s use these stages of atonement as analogies for our own psychological, spiritual, and moral evolution. Perhaps lowering the thermostat or instituting recycling doesn’t make a difference in itself, but provides a jumping-off point for education and activism. Consider the first atonement, involving your family. You are modeling for your children and neighbors by changing your behavior to be more environmentally friendly. You achieve a bit of spiritual purification by purifying your trip to work of fossil fuels, or purifying your food consumption of polluting animal products. You also spur on activism, because you think, “If I can make this change without suffering, I can persuade others to do things with a much bigger impact.” And taking “family” in a broad sense (not just the nuclear family that is familiar from the past couple hundred years), you can bring climate action into your local community. The second stage in atonement is in the workplace, symbolized by the Levites carrying out Temple worship. Now you have moved from individual statements to demanding a commitment from your workplace that it will reduce, reuse, and recycle instead of dumping all its carbon production on the world. Such activism is nothing less than a redefinition of the role of work and corporations in society. Finally, one gets to the third stage, involving global action. You have modeled environmentally conscious behavior, demanded reciprocal actions from your community and workplace, and make the climate a central concern for everyone with whom you have come in contact. Collective action is more than just the accumulation of individual actions. but collective action is not something you can jump into all at once. The Yom Kippur atonement service shows how to think of upping your activity in a matter of grave concern to the whole of Creation. Andy Oram is a writer and editor in the computer field. Andy also writes often on health IT, on policy issues related to the Internet, and on trends affecting technical innovation and its effects on society. Print publications where his work has appeared include The Economist, Communications of the ACM, Copyright World, the Journal of Information Technology & Politics, Vanguardia Dossier, and Internet Law and Business. He has lived in the Boston, Massachusetts area for more than 30 years. He self-published a memoir, “Backtraces: Three Decades of Computing, Communities, and Critiques” and his poems have been published in many journals.

The Ultimate Emergency is a Cancer on the Earth, but It Can Be Successfully Treated by Deb Nam-Krane ~In 2022, after a decade of worsening symptoms that included erratic energy as well as digestive issues – and plenty of gaslighting – I was diagnosed with colon cancer. It was serious enough that even after every visible trace had been removed I needed to undergo chemotherapy treatments. Just as I should have gotten the attention I needed earlier, climate scientists should have been heeded when we were at “crisis”, not “emergency”. But once we identify the causes and agree on the treatments, improvements can be seen immediately.  Just as we could excise malignant cells from my body, we can stop the activities that are causing so much damage to our atmosphere, and we could do it immediately. There will still be leftover damage, just as cancer can leave scars or metastasis even after it’s been removed. However, as someone who focuses on agricultural solutions, I continue to be amazed by how quickly many of those scars can be healed once we start to, literally, put the carbon back where it belongs. Carbon drawn down from the atmosphere enriches our soils and strengthens the microbial networks which make our plants – and trees, and everything that lives off of them – stronger in turn.  Just as millions like me can recover from a cancer that could have killed us a decade ago, the Earth can recover from centuries of pollution and hubris – and like me and other survivors, it can come back stronger than ever. I have experienced my t’shuvah, my return to myself, and I still see opportunities for the Earth – and everyone on it – to experience the same. Deb Nam-Krane is a mother, wife, writer, environmentalist, and gardener in Boston.

Turn it and Turn it Again by Leah Cassorla, Ph.D ~Our lives are marked by recurrences in time and season that nonetheless are not truly a circle, but rather a spiral, in which the return of the familiar sounds more like a harmonious echo than a repetition. Even Torah and holiday cycles regularly repeat and are never the same. This summer, with its heat waves, wildfires, and flood-causing storms, however, seems like a step out of time—in both the musical and seasonal senses. We’ve lost the rhythms of our days. We’ve become slaves. We live in a time of great availability. My calls, for example, come to my pocket, my purse, my desk. I can be reached at any time, anywhere. And yet, we are less connected than ever. Rav Yehuda HaLevi, a medieval Spanish rabbi, poet, physician, and philosopher put this into words in his poem Avdei Zman (Slaves to Time), writing “Slaves to time are slaves to slavery / only those who work for God are free.” How do we end the slavery we have created; slavery to rapacious, unfettered materialism, slavery to (anti)social media, slavery to our own anxiety and fear? I can only re-turn; to Torah, to myself, to what I know in my heart. Torah tells me that I must serve and work the land; that I must respect its blessings; that I must tend it. I am no farmer. Plants seem to die in self-defense when they see me coming. But I am nonetheless a devoted vegan, and as of yesterday a re-turning composter. I am doing what little I can to tend my corner, even as I watch the world engulf in flames. For many, I fear, the current state that our first-world insistence on comfort at the cost of others’ lives and our own species’ survival is proof that there is no God. For me, it is proof that God has kept God’s word. Torah makes clear to us the costs of living out of sync with nature. The paragraphs that commonly follow the Sh’ma make clear that it is our responsibility. And while they are disparate paragraphs taken from different parts of the Torah, in the rabbinic tradition that the whole is greater than its parts and there is not a before or after in Torah allows me to see that the prayer uses the singular ending, ך, when commanding behavior and the plural, כם, when listing possible rewards and consequences. We are each commanded personally, but our choices accrue to the whole. This Elul, I choose to re-turn to myself. I turn Torah again, I turn myself toward the life of the Earth again, I turn the tumblers on my composter. How will you re-turn to yourself, I wonder? Dr. Leah F. Cassorla is the Cantor – Educator at Melville Jewish Center and a Kol-Bo (dual ordination) student at Academy for Jewish Religion in Yonkers, NY. She finds her greatest joys in the classroom, on the Bimah, and with her one-eyed wonder-dog, Boobah.

‘A Monument‘al Vacation by Rabbi Steven J Rubenstein During the late spring, my wife and I joined her son and daughter-in-law on a trip to Vancouver Island off the western coast of Canada, bordering Seattle, Washington. So many things reminded me of previous events in my journeys that are so life-affirming. First and foremost were the majestic mountains of the Canadian Rockies, holding on to the last vestiges of snow in late May at their peaks. They reminded me of my seven years in Denver and my view of the American Rockies on my way to work as I prayed the words: “Mah rabu ma’asekha, Adonai…How wonderful are your works, Adonai;You fashioned them all…” Contrast that with the trees climbing up the slope of the mountain creating a skirt of green ~ with patches of brown where deforestation has begun eroding the landscape. My heart sank at the sight, as if I were looking at an open wound upon the earth, wondering what type of band-aid might be effective in covering the pain at looking upon the barrenness. How can I offer teshuvah for the damage that has been done? A short walk into the old-growth forests introduced me to some trees dating to the time when Marco Polo began his explorations in the 1200s. Looking up at the tall cedars towering over the canopy of trees made me dizzy.  Rivers of melting snow provided us with another reason to stop and admire the torrents as they forced their way through a passage of rocks. I tried to compare them to my experience at Niagara Falls and all of its grandeur. My heart pounded with the fierceness of the water while I stood on a ledge with my camera, pretending I was not in the most vulnerable position of falling. I took many photographs of the water spraying from the impact of hitting the rocks below me in the late afternoon sun. However, none of those photographs compare to the beauty in the stillness of some pools of water left behind on the rock face, where I captured the reflections of the trees in the “still waters.” Above the water on a telephone pole by the side of the road was a sign that read, “Live free!” Challenge accepted! I felt cleansed by the rushing water! The waters of the Pacific Ocean were no less wild, or perhaps even more so, when I was caught flat-footed in the sand by a rogue wave. I thought that I could outrun the wash-off from the wave hitting the shore as it slid towards me. I was wrong and I paid the price of wearing wet shoes for the remainder of the day. What amazed me were the designs in the sand left by the receding waves. There was a message in their shapes. Clearly, the messages were different from the ones at the beach near my parents’ home on Cape Cod. Nature has a way to show its tears in the sand. I share with you the carbon footprint that I left in two places where I stopped to ponder God’s creation. Just as our former ancestor, Jacob, took the stones from the place where he had stopped overnight, and declared with awe and wonder that God was in this place, how could he not know; I, too, gathered some stones for others to know the sacredness of what it meant to be in such a God-place ~ “Mah tovu ohalekha, Ya’a-ko; mishkinotekha, Yisrael”. I left a marker for others to stop and contemplate the holiness of this place and see for themselves through the eyes of a photographer how lines and shapes work together, with color and substance to create a greater picture that can delight all of the senses. May my monument be a testimony to God for forgiveness. Steven J Rubenstein is the Director of Spiritual Care at Jewish Senior Life, a continuum care facility in Rochester, New York.

Perception of Time by Thea Iberall, Ph.D. ~I ’m driving home from Marblehead where we commemorated Erev Tisha B’Av. My trip home seems so much faster than the trip there, even though my GPS says travel time is 45 minutes each way. As I stare out the window, watching headlights cut through the darkness, I’m baffled. Why can’t I measure actual time? We measure distance, size and number without difficulty. I can know if I can fit through a door or whether the leftover spaghetti will fit into a refrigerator container. I know how many fingers I have and I can point to where a sound is coming from. But I can’t judge the real time it takes to travel from point A to point B. Time is like slime. I know how slippery it is. And I know that time, like life, cannot be contained. We break time up into pieces, like years and days and seconds. We use external things for measurements. We measure days and years by the apparent motion of the sun relative to the Earth. We measure months by the phases of the moon. And hours, minutes, and seconds? We inherited these base 60 divisions from the Sumerians 5500 years ago. Neuroscientists tell me our perception of time is a combination of neural processes that are changed by emotional states, level of attention, memory and diseases. The less attention paid to the task, the faster time passes. Before our Tisha B’Av ritual, I went swimming in the Atlantic Ocean. The seaweed was thick, a dull red carpet that didn’t protect my feet from the sharp rocks. They say in Florida the ocean is like bath water now. That’s what I was hoping for, even though I knew that would be terrible. For my human comfort, I want warmth and no bugs. But for the health of the planet, I want cold oceans and bugs. I can hold conflicting ideas in my head without a problem. Computers can’t do that. How can I find a balance in the conflict between my creature comforts and behaviors needed for maintaining a sustainable environment? At sunset, in a small park on a bluff above the ocean, we began reading from the Book of Lamentations. Three Rabbis and a Cantor stood before us, candlelight playing shadows across their faces. The crowd had grown large. Seated on flat rocks and woven beach chairs, people huddled in anticipation. A middle-aged man in a blue shirt and sandals searched on his phone for the text. Two women with short brown hair studied the text on paper. As we read, I could hear the agony of time in play: “But You, O LORD, are enthroned forever, your throne endures through the ages. Why have You forgotten us utterly, forsaken us for all time?” In their misery experiencing the destruction of the Temple, time seemed endless. They had no guarantee God would act in deliverance. The horror of their reality stretched into the future, onward without end. Anyone who has suffered a great loss knows this feeling. I’m watching a Ford Expedition SUV pass me on the left. It’s got twin tailpipes spewing carbon monoxide into the night air. We are facing our own horror, the specter of what the UN chief calls “global burning.” New England winters are disappearing. The Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation stream may collapse by 2025. Will we plead in desperation like the people in the Book of Lamentations spreading out our hands with no one to comfort us? Will we wake in the middle of the night with time dragging on in our fear and deep dread? Why my brain works this way, I don’t know. It’s a mystery. But it’s also a useful tool. In this time of Elul, before the high holidays, it is a time to slow down and reflect on where we’ve been and where we are going. Let time stretch. It’s time to pay more attention. Thea Iberall has been called ‘a shimmering bridge between heart and mind.’ An inductee into the International Educators Hall of Fame, Thea’s poetry has been published widely in anthologies and journals including in Blood to Remember: American Poets on the Holocaust. Her book of contextual poems, The Sanctuary of Artemis, traces the roots of patriarchal domination. She is the author of the ecofeminist novel The Swallow and the Nightingale. Member: Northeast Storytellers, Jewish Storytellers of New England.

Join us for our Zoom Program on Thursday, August 24th from 7:00 pm to 8:30 pm EDT The 30 days of Elul (Elul 1 starts the evening of August 17) are a time for cheshbon hanefesh (soul searching) and teshuvah (return, repentance). They are a time to turn from the ways in which we have missed the mark and return to G!d and our best selves. Elul is a time to be reborn, transformed, and renewed. This year for the first time, JCAN-MA and Ma’yan Tikya be hosting “An Evening of Earth Etudes for Elul,” a time of reading and reflection, during which selected Etude writers will join us to share their works and engage with us in meditation and thoughtful conversation. Sign up here to join us for An Evening of Earth Etudes for Elul on Thursday, August 24, from 7:00-8:30 PM EDT.

by Sarah Chandler The rolling fog Invites me To stretch my neck To peek at a new perspective It’s Not quite bright enough To squint ~ My eyes wide across the valley Trying not to wait For something else to be ~ Just when I think My orientation is eastward The clouds above the mountain Tickle the sky Spreading north across the orange glow These trees form a frame Filled with smaller frames So that each frame of light Can shine through On me ~ It’s the light in front of me That allows me to re-enter The darkness behind Sarah Chandler aka Kohenet Shamirah is a Brooklyn-based Jewish educator, artist, activist, healer, and poet. She teaches, writes and consults on issues related to Judaism, earth-based spiritual practice, respectful workplaces, mindfulness, and farming. An ordained Kohenet with the Hebrew Priestess Institute and Taamod trainer since 2018, she is also is an advanced student of Kabbalistic dream work at The School of Images. Previously, Sarah served as the Director of Romemu Yeshiva, Chief Compassion Officer of Jewish Initiative for Animals, and Director of Earth Based Spiritual Practices at Hazon’s Isabella Freedman Jewish Retreat Center. Currently, she is the CEO of Shamir Collective, as a coach and consultant to high-profile artists and authors to launch new music and books.

by Joan Rachin Like many of a certain age, my husband and I had decided to downsize, but unlike many others, ours was less a choice and more a necessity following his stroke two+ years ago. We loved our town, neighborhood, and street and had been making plans to “age in place” before life intervened. As I began to survey the overwhelming task ahead, it was clear that my obsession with helping preserve what pristineness remained in nature had become disconnected from my personal behavior of “littering” our home. My husband gently commented that the books (e.g., “The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning,” “Clear Your Clutter,” and “The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up”) sitting atop our ubiquitous piles of “stuff” were symbols of that disconnectedness. I rationalized the presence of this “stuff” by explaining to myself and others that it included gifts from beloved grandparents, parents, other family members, and friends; souvenirs from travels; memorabilia from childhood and beyond; cards, letters, and miscellaneous paperwork that had to be filed; and/or cherished mementos of the years in which we raised our kids. I had managed to ignore the fact that—despite an object’s back-story and despite my self-proclaimed status as an environmental activist—I had become a “do as I say, not as I do” hypocrite. Although I’ve encouraged many others to read Affluenza over the past 20 years, I never admitted to having an undiagnosed case of that planet-crushing disease. With help from friends and a downsizing professional, our house was emptied and most of our possessions donated to organizations* and individuals. Though bittersweet, my dominant emotion is gratitude for the four+ decades we spent there, the sweet memories that remain, and the opportunity to tread more lightly on the Earth presented by closing the door to our old home and opening the door to our new one. I therefore entered Elul with the kavannah, or intention, of following the sage advice on my fridge magnet: “The most important things in life are not things.” I’m focusing on progress, not perfection and hoping that my previously overzealous efforts to prevent things from being buried (landfills) or burned (incinerators) will be replaced by the realization that I am doing the best I can and my efforts are good enough. Although not a big fan of self-help books, I’ve just begun listening to Enoughness, which emphasizes sustainability and contentedness and, when finished, plan to start A Good-Enough Life.  I pray that I will, with mindfulness and discipline, increase the simplicity and balance in my soul, home, and in my microscopic corner of our shared home, Planet Earth.  Here’s to a safe, healthy, just, peaceful, purposeful, and “enoughness-filled” New Year for all.  Shana Tova U’Metuka.*Below is a partial list of the organizations to which we donated: 1 – More Than Words 2 – Boomerang’s 3 – Mass College of Art ReStore 4 – Furnishing Hope of MA 5 – Simple Recycling 6 – Village Vinyl 7 – Our Facebook “Buy Nothing” group (Buy Nothing Brookline) was also helpful in finding homes for everything we no longer needed or wanted. We gave away golf clubs, old cameras, slide and movie projectors, furniture, encyclopedias (“More Than Words” does not take encyclopedias) and many other things.8 – I also donated collections of family memoirs, photos, and memorabilia to archives and museums. Although this was a time-consuming endeavor, it enabled me to find permanent homes for the treasures passed down through the generations of my family. Joan Rachlin is the Executive Director Emerita of PRIM&R (Public Responsibility in Medicine and Research) an international bioethics organization. In addition to her work with PRIM&R, she practiced law in the areas of women’s health, civil rights, and criminal and civil litigation. Joan loves nature and its preservation is her priority, purpose, and passion.

by Judith Felsen, Ph.D. My King, How will I love You when we meet in this year’s fields of Elul? You who have sent illness, pandemic, bloodshed, injustice, hypocrisy, fire, starvation and death… We have been estranged and denying our separation for eons Now it has come to this… With my ambivalence how will I love You? Will I remember that You sent us Your    starry sky on Your darkest night    blooms of wild flowers in Spring    symphonies of songs and calls    vocal ensembles of insects and birds    pools of wild waters, waterfalls and streams    cool forests and trees    spongy meadows and lichen fractal images of Your presence and love Elul calls to us to turn to You to             rebalance             restore             revive     remember Your presence always in love Judith Felsen, Ph.D. is a practitioner and seeker of paths facilitating the transformation of human suffering to wisdom, gratitude and grace. Engaged in this pursuit for most of her life, Judith has incorporated the natural world as well as mankind’s alliance in her work. Living in the White Mountain National Forest, Judith feels at home with two and four legged and all creatures and has likened the forest around her to a metropolis of symphonies creating a language of their own. Insight, comfort and connection are often concealed to us yet readily and always available in nature’s world. Addressing issues of complex earth changes and resultant grief, loss, voluntary and unchosen outcomes, Judith spends daily time in mindfulness practice and presence to all of life. Elul is a time to embrace our part in meeting G-d in daily life in all ways including our hardships. We are asked to show up as a partner. Partnering with spirit is day  to day practice on our way to the palace as we wend our way on the trail home.  … …

by Dr. Leah Cassorla In the loaming, Boobah the One-eyed Wonderdog and I sit outside in our vast, shared backyard, watching the swallows. As the evening descends, we watch the tree line of the nearby patch of forest. The lightning bugs begin their fiery dance before us, the swallows swoop in and out, and hares hop in and out of the line of sight–my line of sight as Boobah’s is thankfully too restricted to catch them. I consider this beautiful, if tiny, patch of Olam Ha’bah, and it shifts me to another space. I’ve been a whole-foods, plant-based eater for several years now and know it is the single most powerful choice I can make for the continuation of humanity on this beautiful earth. I don’t say I’m doing it for the planet; the planet will be just fine. She is designed to clean her house as needed. But I am aware that cleaning house may require sweeping away the humans who have overpopulated, overused, and over-dirtied her. And I am concerned that we are not doing enough. This thought leads me to Shmita and Shabbat, and I wonder: What if we treated Shabbat as an opportunity to practice environmental responsibility rather than a set of strictures for “keeping” or “not keeping” the Shabbat commandments? How could I make my Shabbat a mini Sh’mita, just as Sh’mita is considered a grand Shabbat? Sh’mita is a year that allows the land a recovery period from the agricultural needs of humanity as well as the economic drivers of social inequality. Perhaps I can try to reduce my Carbon/Nitrogen footprint each week on Shabbat by refraining from using electricity, gas, or oil–or by buying credits if such use is mandatory for my survival (and my religious role in my community). I can refrain from purchasing anything on Shabbat as well, knowing that I cannot fully remove myself from the capitalist system and that reduction of consumption is only one step. I can set aside my pishke each week to support organizations that further ecological recovery. And those of us who aren’t vegan may choose to refrain from eating meat on Shabbat–a truly radical idea. Yet with these approaches in hand, I can feel myself (re)turning toward the needs of the ecosystem and my species. With each small step, I can come closer to making more space for the swallows, the lightning bugs, and the hares. Inch by inch, I can bring myself closer to the ideal Shabbat. And so can you. Dr. Leah F. Cassorla is the Cantorial Soloist – Educator at Temple Beth Tikvah, in Madison, CT. Her etude reflects on her time in Huntsville, AL, as well as her belief that we can enact Teshuvah to a better relationship with our planet. She has written works of journalism, fiction, non-fiction, and academics. She is currently studying for a dual-ordination as a Rabbi and Cantor at the Academy for Jewish Religion in Yonkers, NY.

by Rabbi Louis Polisson And the land shall not be sold for ever; for the land is mine; for you are strangers and sojourners with me1 ~ And now we are learning ~ That the Land belongs to No One, To the One with No End For the earth was confusion and chaos2 ~ And we too have become wild and waste Human beings from the earth Human beings, full of harm3 for the earth Every day ~ But our fate is not sealed There is hope There is choice There is justice4 And there is return, an answer, repentance ~ The time to come close has drawn near The season of Elul The time of “we are our Beloved’s, and our Beloved’s is ours” At the end of this Year of Release There is an opportunity There is a new year There is time to repair the world Through the sovereignty of the Almighty, through presence of the Supreme Mighty Mother There is time to say: Here I am For we are Her People and She is our Beloved5 ~ Not for us, not ours Is the Land Not yours and not mine Hers For Her Own Self ~ Because strangers and sojourners are we with Her ~ Both strangers and human beings from the earth We are connected and responsible From the worm in the ground to the fish of the sea From the tiniest grain of sand to the air in the sky ~ Together we must recognize and lead6 and pray and act So that She might grant in our hearts The ability to understand, to be aware, to listen and to hear7 To learn and to teach8 To serve her and to protect her ~ The Garden of Eden, where is it?9 In the earth. Mine And not mine Leviticus 25:23 Genesis 1:2; translation after Everett Fox, cf. https://wordpress.clarku.edu/efox/resources/first-time-readers/principle-1 Genesis 6:5 Genesis Rabbah 26:6 Ki Anu Amekha, from the Liturgy for Yom Kippur Mi Khamokha, Shaḥarit (Morning) and Ma’ariv (Evening) Liturgy  Ahavah Rabbah, Shaḥarit (Morning) Liturgy Genesis 2:15 Sefer Ha-Bahir, II:31 Louis Polisson is a musician and rabbi, ordained by the Jewish Theological Seminary in 2018, where he also earned an MA in Jewish Thought focusing on Kabbalah and Hasidut. He currently serves as Rabbi of Congregation Or Atid of Wayland, Massachusetts. He and his wife Gabriella Feingold released an album of original Jewish and nature-based spiritual folk music in November 2018 – listen at https://louisandgabriella.bandcamp.com/album/as-full-of-song-as-the-sea

by Rabbi Judy Kummer It was my ankle that went. There I was, in the gorgeous Berkshires countryside, walking briskly with my sister-in-law on a glorious true-blue spring day, sun spilling giddily over wildflowers by the sides of the country road, bugs thrumming merrily in the long grass and the smells of freshness and potential all around. My sister-in-law pointed out cows in a nearby field;  as I glanced over at them, savoring the sunshine on my face, my foot failed to notice missing pavement at the edge of the road — and I took a tumble, twisting my ankle and swearing loudly as I hit the ground. Pain, deep pain throbbed, along with embarrassment at my klutziness.  I was shocked—how on earth had this happened? I had just been walking on the road, hale and hearty, exulting in my good health and in the warm sunlight—and a second later I’m on the ground with a twisted ankle??  I was also aware that I had sustained a real injury— and with that realization came an awareness of the stupid timing of this accident: I had been looking forward to an active summer filled with lovely woodland hikes and long lake swims… But oddly, as I sat by the side of the road, bits of gravel pressing sharp against my legs and hands, I found myself going into a mode of stillness —and then, unexpectedly, into a mode of gratitude. My gratitude built over the following hours: I felt grateful that it was my left ankle that I had injured, allowing me still to drive.  I could put weight on the leg, which meant it likely wasn’t broken.  I felt grateful that I had laced myself firmly into hiking boots before setting out, which had clearly protected my ankle from any worse injury. I was grateful that my sister-in-law had been at hand and that she had flagged down my nephew, driving by en route home from an errand, so I could be transported back to her house quickly and in style, rather than limping home in pain and in shame.  I made it to urgent care near home in the company of my mom. I felt grateful to be wrapped in the cotton-batting protection of family connection; I was clearly not facing this injury all on my own. Our lives are filled with challenges, large and small— and our lives are also filled with gifts and blessings.  And the same moment that feels challenge-filled may also hold within it some facets of blessing as well. It is our choice as human beings which we will focus on at any given moment. Our ancient ancestors knew the wisdom of choosing to focus on the positive.  When gifts come our way in life, what a wonderful additional gift we can give ourselves by offering a blessing, an expression of thanks in response.  When we choose to focus on the bounty of our gifts and then express our gratitude for them, the impact is not only outward; it echoes in our own hearts.  Gratitude warms the heart and often expands our own happiness — and it may also move us toward further acts of kindness and efforts to bring happiness to others.  Gratitude, it seems, is a gift that keeps on giving, and giving. As we approach the High Holidays, may we choose for the coming year a path of gratitude and of offering blessings for our many gifts — and through this choice, may we too be blessed. Rabbi Judy Kummer is a board certified chaplain in private practice, offering skilled spiritual care visits, eldercare programing and lifecycle events. She has served as executive director of the Jewish Chaplaincy Council of MA and other nonprofits, and has served congregations in DC, NY and NJ. She is happiest outdoors hiking in the woods, swimming in a lake at sunset or tending to her Boston organic garden.

by Thea Iberall, PhD Signal Hill stands 365 feet above Long Beach in Southern California looking down on San Pedro Bay, home of the largest US port. In the 1500s, Tongva tribe members stood on the hill sending smoke signals to their families on Catalina Island. Early settlers used to call it the Bay of Smokes. Eventually, large homes were built on the hill, surrounded by an abundance of fruits, vegetables, and flowers. Even a Hollywood movie studio shot films there. Signal Hill changed forever when oil was discovered in 1921. It became covered with over 100 oil derricks. They called it Porcupine Hill. It’s still a productive oil field, although it doesn’t look like one. There are still families living there in big houses surrounded by orange trees and flowers. Buried deep in the fault zone, the secret is hidden in the stench of the hill. I can feel it—smothered layers ofdead diatoms, algae that once photosynthesized sunlight into hydrocarbons. For millions of years, the remains of the algae were buried, heated and pressurized, filling pockets in clay rocks, accumulating into massive amounts of oil—rich, thick, debauched oil that fuels our trucks and planesand lives as we send smoke signals with our cell phones using the electricity sparked up by the secret of this hill. On the hill, ten oil pumpjacks are caught invarious angles like low-nodding donkeys straining to drain the hill of its black money and fetored decay. There used to be hundreds of oil derricks on this foggy hill like porcupine quills. It’s not that there are fewer, it’s that most are camouflaged as condos and playgrounds. I am reminded of the Sufi poem The Conference of the Birds by Farid-ud-din Attar. In this masterpiece, the birds of the world gather to seek a king. They are guided by the hoopoe who takes them through seven valleys. At each valley, the hoopoe shares obscure anecdotes to teach the birds (think of Zen Buddhism koans). For the Valley of Detachment, the hoopoe shares a story about a seeker on a spiritual quest. He meets a dog keeper who says he abandoned his spiritual life after 30 years to take care of dogs. When the seeker expresses his confusion, the dog keeper says, “I would rather look ridiculous than only appear as if I know the meaning of a spiritual life.” The dog keeper teaches the seeker how to take care of the dogs, and after much repetition, the seeker detaches from his search and learns it is enough to be living a homesteader’s life. Out in San Pedro Bay are four small artificial islands (the THUM Islands) with buildings, a ritzy hotel, sculptured screens, a waterfall, and palm trees. At night, the structures are lit by colored lights. It’s quite beautiful, especially from atop Signal Hill. But it’s all fake, like a movie set. They’re actually a pump station. No one lives there; you’re arrested if you try to land. The billionth barrel of oil was pumped from the oil field in 2011. The islands were named for an acronym for the consortium of companies who built them: Texaco, Humble (now Exxon), Unocal, Mobil, and Shell. Attar says, “Do you want to look spiritual or be spiritual?” Do you want to be a living environment for children or just look like one? Do you want to be a tropical island or just look like one? Do you want to do true t’shuvah and return to God during the month of Elul or just look spiritual? Thea Iberall, PhD, is on the leadership team of the Jewish Climate Action Network-MA. She is the author of The Swallow and the Nightingale, an eco-feminist novel about a 4,000-year-old secret brought through time by the birds. In this fable, she addresses the real moral issue of today: not whom you love, but what we are doing to the planet. Iberall is also the playwright of We Did It For You! Women’s Journey Through History – a musical about how women got their rights in America, told by the women who were there. Along with her family, she was inducted into the International Educators Hall of Fame for creative teaching methods. In her work, she bridges between heart and mind, and she teaches through performance, the written word, poetry, sermons, workshops, and storytelling.  www.theaiberall.com.

by Rabbi Suri Krieger “Green green, it’s green they say, on the far side of the hill Green green I’m goin’ away to where the grass is greener still” It’s a song that was a familiar refrain for me in my growing up years. I loved the message as much as the melody. We were a camping kind of family, and grazing in the greenery of the woodlands was my sacred place. But wherever we went… the Green Mountains of Vermont or the Poconos of Pennsylvania… the green was always somehow marred by the inevitable Fast Food throw-aways of the various camping sojourners. These days, I live in what I think to be the Green suburbs, where most of my neighbors, like myself, are quite environmentally conscious. We conscientiously separate our recyclables, we attempt to grow at least a few of our own vegetables, we sign petitions to our local politicians. But within a mile of our pristine green neighborhood, there is a Starbucks, MacDonald’s, Duncan Donuts, and three thriving strip malls. I am writing at this very moment from the Highlands of Scotland, where I have the good fortune of spending this summer’s vacation. Here green comes in 50 shades. Green and rocks and trails are the colorful souls of these Highlands… and gardens everywhere, the Classic and the Wildflower Garden,  with not a Mall or Strip Mall in sight. We stop at every ‘pull-in’ to take in the view, and I find myself musing… if this were the US, what fast food chain selling Outlander Burgers would pop up here?  What over-the-top Resort would block my view of Castle Eilean Donan ? We would find shop after shop of plastic Loch Ness monsters. Grateful am I that there are still some places remaining on this beleaguered planet of ours, where the grounds are not littered with plastic and take-out containers…where the grass is greener still… where there is  preservation of what’s precious in our precariously wounded planet. I offer up this ancient blessing: ‘May the Holy On Blessed be She, give you the dew of heaven and the green fatness of the earth’* Ken yehi ratzon  ~   May it be so, that our malls be plowed into green pastures, that our fast fooderies blossom into floral havens. May this be our Tikun, our Earthly Teshuva. so may it be ! Reb Suri Krieger is Rabbi of B’nai Or, Jewish Renewal of Greater Boston. *Blessing adapted from Goldie Milgram’s Mitzvah Stories

by Rabbi Charles R. Lightner “And the giants began to kill men and to devour them. And they began to sin against the birds and the beasts and creeping things and the fish, and to devour one another’s flesh. And they drank the blood. Then the earth brought accusation against the lawless ones for all that was done on it.” (1 Enoch 7:4-6)[1] “And again I saw them, and they began to gore one another, and the earth began to cry out.” (1 Enoch 87:1) The Book of 1 Enoch is the oldest work of Jewish apocalypse, portions dating to the fourth century BCE. Its original language was Aramaic, and it was important to the sectarian Jews of the last two centuries BCE. The text was lost to the West early in the Common Era but a copy in Greek was translated into the classical Ethiopian language of Ge’ez. That version was preserved for centuries in both the Jewish and the Christian communities of Ethiopia. Copies of the Ethiopic version were brought to Europe in the 18th century, but it was not until 1912 that R. H. Charles published the first definitive translation. The book is written from the point of view of the biblical Enoch, the seventh generation of humans from Adam and Eve and the great-grandfather of Noah. Genesis Chapter 6 tells us that divine beings descended to earth in the time of Enoch and began to disrupt the natural order. That disruption and its consequences are the subjects of much of the long text of 1 Enoch. In the biblical account it is that disruption that leads to Gen 6:6, which tells us that the Lord regretted having made humans, and the Lord’s heart was saddened. In the Genesis account, the Noah story follows immediately. But most of 1 Enoch takes place in the timeless gap between the account of God’s determination to cleanse the earth of all life and Gen 6:8, when Noah is introduced. In that gap, 1 Enoch documents a reaction to the evil and the disruption of the natural order. A reaction that we do not find in Genesis. In 1 Enoch the earth itself rises up, reacting against violence and disruption. The earth brings angry accusations. The earth cries out in pain. In this earliest of Jewish apocalyptic texts, it is the earth itself that objects to being used for ill purposes. It is that objection, it is the earth’s crying out in Enoch 87 that introduces the cleansing Noah story. This ancient text teaches that offenses against the natural order require repair in the physical realm. It adds a dimension to our understanding of t’shuvah. Atonement and repair in matters of the earth are different from and in addition to the  t’shuvah required in spiritual and human relationships. [1] Translations from: Nickelsburg, George W. E. 1 Enoch 1. Hermeneia–A Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible. Fortress. Minneapolis. 2001 Charles R. Lightner received rabbinic ordination from the Academy for Jewish Religion in 2008. He currently leads a study group and a Shabbat minyan at Temple Emanuel of Westfield, NJ. He studies and writes about the literature of the Second Temple period with an emphasis on apocalypse.