Breaking the Tablets

The Story goes like this: that after the sin of the Golden Calf, after Moses dashed down the stone tablets in response, after the Israelites were punished with death or repented, after a new pair of tablets was created- a pair rumoured to be fashioned from sapphire, like the first (Rashi)- after that, a midrash says that when the Israelites travelled, they travelled with both sets, Divinely made, and handmade with G-d, the broken and the whole, nestled inside the Ark of the Covenant.

In recent days, the guilt has been piling up. LARabbi™ and I corresponded a bit. I had mentioned that I had not even begun any sort of cheshbon hanefesh (spiritual accounting) and the thread of time and opportunity was growing slender. I had not been feeling fear, but a kind of comfort. I knew I was going back to Los Angeles for the Holy Days and beyond. I knew I was looking forward to the marathon of festivals from Rosh Hashana through Simchat Torah. I am also going to visit people whom I consider family. I am going home.

But, oh, the guilt! LARabbi™ had responded earlier by saying he thought that the problem was not in starting an accounting, that was easy, but in keeping one's resolve and following through, of doing something differently, and permanently. I said that follow-through was a fabulous point; that is also my complaint about synagogues that are all-fired to welcome you, then do not follow through. It's all about follow-through. Otherwise the disconnect continues.

LARabbi™ is an avid golfer. And so, he elaborated, "the most important part of the golf swing, as any pro will tell you, is the follow-through. Without the follow-through you've only made a half-hearted attempt to hit the ball. Apply to synagogue life, and there you are".

Ugh. Oy.

My cheshbon hanefesh has officially begun. The guilt meter is spiking at 12, well beyond the upper limit of 10.

Thoughts swirled. Did I follow through at temple in order to make the best of it or was the attempt half-hearted? Oh, I tried, and then I gave up on a plan. Guilty.

Visions challenged me. Oh, the beach was shimmering light and sand, the sun a liquid golden drop, the water a path of diamonds, the sound of its rush where surf and blood meet, and the ducks and the dogs a quiet delight. Joy. Instead of Shabbat services. Guilty.

Certain rituals dropped, or half-hearted attempts. Guilty.

Personal stuff that's none of your business. Guilty.

Sin against G-d, sin against your fellow human beings, I remind myself. I'm down to a 9. Okay, not everything will go my way in life. It is just that- life, and not necessarily a transgression. My problems at temple have nothing to do with religious expiation, although I suspect an undefined disconnect there, somewhere.

I remind myself that this year has been arduous, emotionally. Not a normal year. If I have sinned, it may be in the realm of self-pity and whinging; however, I know that this year, it is not really true. I further imagine G-d will cut me more slack than I do. This is the crack in any stony accounting- the danger of guilting yourself into depression. I imagine G-d wants a broken heart, not a broken spirit. For me, treading that fine line is real, as I imagine it is for a lot of Jews. Maybe forgiveness also comes in the form of finally taking a page from G-d's book and cutting yourself some slack. When you can do it, it is evidence that G-d has forgiven you.

What did I promise G-d last year? I realise that I promised Him nothing definitive or else my mind is really slipping. Except to try again, and perhaps this time, the boulder will roll up that friggin' hill and finally stay there . Or even better, roll down the other side for good. Perhaps forgiveness feels much like the moment the stone crests that hill- there is release. Sometimes, I envy those who claim to outwardly follow most of the rules, who seem so disciplined, though I wonder why it is important for them to claim such things. I imagine G-d likes modesty. Meanwhile, the shofar's piercing, unearthly wail really strips you naked of any claims.

Rabbi did offer one more thought, "It's like what Mark Twain said about quitting smoking--done it lots of times. It's easy to start doing heshbon ha-nefesh, but the hard part is actually carrying out what you've resolved". Clearly, rabbi has never been a smoker. Studies show that it takes several tries for smokers until they finally succeed. I can attest to that. But his point is very persuasive, and that is when the guilt meter struck 12. Oddly, not only about the non-religious difficulties, but concerning my offering, and my commitment, when I'm down to the wire and standing exposed before G-d.

When I think of golfing (and I never thought I would), the follow-through moves beyond the point of contact - the momentum continues until the swing is completed; without completion, your ball is not going to go far, or necessarily in the direction you want. I was simply thinking about connection. I am happy to return to G-d. I am happy to go home. I certainly could use that shelter "high upon a rock", for it has been a while. But I see that there is more. Maybe I was content to slice and chop and smash away at the ball, as long as I connected with it. Hmmm, not very elegant, or far-reaching.

True, repeated connection leads to the sustain, gives you the strength to follow-through- to try again. You are not going to get a hole-in-one, on your first try, or perhaps, ever. And perhaps a hole-in-one is more of a dream than a realistic goal. But I also remember the Torah stressing that we must not approach G-d empty-handed, "but each with his own gift, according to the blessing that the Lord your G-d has bestowed upon you" (Deuteronomy 16:16b-17), or put another way, "they shall not appear before the Lord empty" (16:16). I don't recall the Torah ever saying that we approach G-d empty.

To appear before G-d empty is to do things half-heartedly. So it is for the welcomers at shul; if they are half-hearted they have offered up an empty gesture, an empty mitzvah; or for those who welcome G-d by mouthing empty prayers or indulging in empty ritual.

So it would be for me, if I came to G-d depressed, racked with guilt, despairing and demoralised. As much as I have failed, this year I have also succeeded. I bring G-d my little gems and chips of follow-through. I bring G-d my entire self, blessed with this gift of life. I bring G-d my own gift, my blessing from G-d, which G-d sees better than I. Even if it possesses no name, here, G-d knows it and has named it.

As for a renewing of follow-through, for another commitment, these coming Days of Awe, oy, do I have to make a concrete promise, write it in stone? I don't really know. I have failed so often, broken something, what can I be sure of any longer? Yet, thinking about follow-through has forced me to search my pockets; some hapless rooting actually has uncovered something other than lint; my hands are no longer empty. This is my offering- I bring G-d a question. And I hope to follow through on His answer. And I bring something concrete, with the question. Guilt down to a manageable 5.

Will I be inscribed in the Book of Life? I used to really pray hard for it. But over the years, I failed to see any literal connection between t'shuvah (repentance), tzedakah (charity), tefillah (prayers), and the extravagant promises offered by G-d. Material life was hard, often arduous, full of pain and loss. Does G-d follow through? I'm guessing He does, but in ways unknown to me. I don't count on what I know any longer. However, I do count on an answer to my question.

Shatter our stony, failing hearts.
Keep us far from the petrified and the forever broken
Yet let us not forget.
Help us carve a heart of sapphire,
Graven with Your touch and fire,
So that we may be whole.
And nestle us in your Ark.

L'shana tovah, um'tukah, uv'racha.


Thank you, my LA Rabbi!