#Shacharit

[saltcherry]

on Sunday I went for a walk and it was really sunny. I ended up taking my keffiyeh instead of my big flowered scarf to drape over myself. Woman I recognized from shul failed to recognize me + gave me a look as we passed each other. Starting to think I will not manage to form an anti-Zionist working group in the congregation. blegh. This is a nothing post about my little problems but it remains disheartening.

[shoutsindwarvish]

got up early to go to shacharit service this morning, made a pumpkin pie from scratch, spoke to my whole family via facetime, chopped up most of the ingredients for the main dishes my partner made, made several gifsets for my sideblog, and finally bought my plane tickets for visiting my parents in december

damn good productive day

[ponyboi-69]

I did it! First Erev Rosh Hashanah service! And by myself, none the less. 🍯🍎

[spoofymcgee]

i was thinking for a moment today and.

i spent most of my teenage years reading ya novels and making fun of the bits i thought were stupid or didn't like.

why is this character so lovesick, why don't they come up with a new type of love interest, this is so cheesy, this is ridiculous, no real teenager would act like that.

and sometimes that was valid criticism, and sometimes it was wanting to look cool and unaffected but i think in any case i just. didn't see the point. and now i think i've got it, or at least an interpretation of it, as someone who's never really written ya.

i think part of it is the idea that. your feelings are important. your love is important. when you're twelve or fourteen or sixteen or nineteen you're not dumb and you're not irrelevant–maybe you're learning–but in any case you matter. your emotions matter. they matter so fucking much and ya i think can show up and say:

you, you teenage reader, your love is enough to change the world. your world will tell you that it is stupid and you're not old enough to know anything but they're wrong. even if you grow out of it, even if you lose it somewhere, your love in this moment is so powerful. your anger, your rage, your pain, they are real and they are monumental and you cannot forget that.

and i think i thought it was unrealistic and stupid because the rest of the world was telling me that i didn't matter, that i was one dumb teenager, and that's true, in a way, but that didn't mean i didn't matter. it just meant i was confused and feeling alone and like no one understood me. i still could, and did, do things that made a difference in the world, for better or worse.

and i think that's really cool.

[vibingforjudaism]

anyway if anyone has money to give t omy patreon I have no skills keep your cash

[punchyfeeley]

I need Anne Carson to translate a siddur please.

[todaysjewishholiday]

Elul Practices

Unlike with the high holy days, the shalosh regalim, or even the period of the Omer, there are no specific ritual mitzvot for the month of Elul. Instead, the entire month is oriented around the most fundamental biblical mitzvah: teshuvah, ie return. Return to our best selves, return to HaShem and the covenant, return to the care for each other that can heal the world.

But Judaism doesn’t leave us without resources to promote mindfulness of this work during Elul.

I. Shofar

Many Jewish communities begin weekday shacharit prayers with a shofar blast. This serves as a spiritual wake-up call, a reminder of the upcoming encounter of the Yamim Noraim. In the Torah the sound of a shofar blast proceeded from the cloud atop Mount Sinai at the making of the covenant between the newly liberated multitude and HaShem. Even before Rosh HaShana became the Jewish new year during the exile in Babylon, the first of Tishri was known as Yom T’ruah (Day of the Shofar Blast) or Zikhron T’ruah (the Memorial Shofar Blast). Because the watchman’s sounding of the shofar would also be used to call the community together in times of calamity or attack, the sounding of the shofar served to shake our forebears out of their routines and focus them in preparation for the Day of Atonement ten days later. The sounding of the shofar on each weekday in Elul brings this wake up call even earlier and invites us to set our lives in order.

II. Tehillim

Psalm 27 is also added to the morning and evening prayers during Elul. This change also reminds us of the spiritual focus of the month, with the poet’s appeal, “Hear, HaShem, when I cry aloud; show mercy to me and answer me. My heart tells me to seek your face. HaShem, I seek you.”

III. Selichot

Selichot (from the Hebrew word selichah meaning forgiveness) are special piyyutim written throughout the generations of Jewish history to aid in the spiritual work of teshuvah. In Sephardi communities, the custom is to hold a Selichot service every day beginning on the second of Elul, while in Ashkenazi communities Selichot services generally begin roughly a week before Rosh HaShana, with only four services. Whatever your minhag or personal practice, the selichot prayers can help direct the soul towards the repair that Elul invites us to seek.

IV. Other Practices

In the past half century, the Reform, Reconstructionist and Renewal movements have seen a flowering of new practices to guide teshuvah during Elul. Search the web and you’ll find Elul workbooks and meditations galore. Many Jewish communities across the spectrum also see Elul as a time for interpersonal reconciliation as well as soul-work and emphasize reaching out who we have harmed or offended in the past year to attempt to mend what we can. The work of tzedekah— our obligation to provide assistance to those in poverty from what resources we have— is also a crucial aspect of teshuvah that is explored in many Elul traditions.

Teshuvah is deeply personal, and it’s good to remember that no specific practice is obligatory. These are not mitzvot, they are tools we can draw on as we seek to fulfill the ultimate mitzvah of return to ourselves, our righteous vows, and our G-d.

While this work is deeply personal, I encourage you to counteract the overly individualist and isolating spirit of our times and remember that the heart of teshuvah is in relationship, and in recognizing the webs of reciprocity and community and obligation we’re woven into. Recognizing our collective connectedness is at the heart of the healing that we’re offered through the path of teshuvah, and we cannot repair ourselves in isolation. May your labors this month prove fruitful, whatever type of teshuvah you may choose to seek.

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

There is something so sacred about the velvety darkness that is so often deeply underappreciated.

Depicting holiness is often a very bright affair, with blinding lights, white marble, ethereal rays of sun filtering through the clouds, stark white robes that almost seem to glow from within, banks of cumulus clouds piled in a froth against a blazing blue sky, reminding us of the sapphire throne of God.

But how much more sacred is the holy dark?

If God is infinite, what better way to depict or understand that infinity than the endless dark of the universe? Earth, when properly understood in its place in the cosmos, is a bright speck in a vast sea of unending black.

Have you ever felt folded up in the dark? Swaddled like an infant, wrapped in its all-encompassing embrace? Dark is restful, dark is peace. Dark is all things hidden and in the safety of that dark, released. Have you ever felt freer to express yourself than when sitting under the night sky with a loved one?

The liturgy speaks of "Tachat Kanfei ha-Shechinah," being brought under the wings of the Divine Presence. I like to imagine this as being held safe under the vast drape of the night sky. As I look up, I see just a fraction - an infinitesimal glimpse - of the Divine Presence in all Her glory, this small bit revealed to us, just like the revelation of Torah is a tiny taste of the infinite creation of the Infinite Creator.

My best prayers are whispered into the quietude of the dark, without the noise and visual distraction of the day. In the silence of the restful dark, one can almost hear the still, small voice speaking straight to your soul.

Even when davening Shacharit to the rising sun, I take a moment during the Amidah to cover my head beneath my tallis, a shadow falls across my siddur, and I imagine the soft underside of my tallit to be covered in the pinprick lights of a million tiny stars.

[slyandthefamilybook]

Noah's Spring Jewish Book Review

this isn't gonna become a regular thing, don't worry. I just need to gush some about these books. I'm gonna keep the reviews short too because who's got that kind of time!

So far I've read 4 Jewish novels this spring and I'm working on a fifth. We'll go in chronological order

1. Thistlefoot by GennaRose Nethercott

~ Two estranged siblings, Isaac and Bellatine Yaga—the grandchildren of the famous Baba Yaga—inherit their ancestor's chicken-footed house. They travel the country putting on puppet shows and exploring their own mysterious abilities, all the while trying to escape from a threatening figure known only as the Longshadow Man, as well as their own pasts. History relives itself in a book filled with magic and mystery ~

This book was so damn good. Every other sentence is tattoo-worthy and hits you like a sack of bricks. The characters feel so real and raw while also managing to fill out their respective roles with a sense of poetry. The book has a supporting cast of memorable characters and a sense of real danger throughout. Every so often the house will interject in a way that reminds me so much of my bubbe (עליה השלום). I've read reviews that said it dragged on a bit in the second act but I was enraptured the entire way through. It's also pretty gay, which I always appreciate. 10/10

2. When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb

~ An angle and a demon—best friends for 200 years—set out from their tiny Pale shtetl to America in search of a girl who hasn't been heard from. They're accompanied by Rosie, a spunky and fire-spirited girl from their shtetl desperate to get away and have an adventure in the far-off West ~

No book has made me feel quite so seen as this one. As someone who grew up Orthodox there's virtually no representation for people like me. The majority of Orthodox characters in media are trying to get away. None of them love it quite so much as I do, as much as the characters in this book do. From Little Ash tucking his peyot behind his ears like my older brothers used to to the angel waking up to daven shacharit. Sacha Lamb takes the brave stance of "what if Jewish theology is real, actually" and it shines on every page. The writing effortlessly intertwines spirituality and reverence with a classic Yiddish folktale. It's also pretty gay. 10/10

3. From Dust, a Flame by Rebecca Podos

Hannah, the descendant of the famed Rabbi Yehuda Loew, wakes up one morning to find herself transformed, her eyes turning to yellow slits. Her mother seems to blame herself without explaining why, and soon after disappears. After receiving a mysterious letter, Hannah and her adopted brother Gabe travel to upstate New York to meet their mother's family, to learn the secrets of her past, and of their own lineage ~

I'll start off by saying I'm not sure if I was the target audience for this book. It was good, don't get me wrong, but the writing wasn't to my taste. It was a little... blatant, where I prefer prose to be a bit more subtle. Again, nothing wrong with it, just not my particular thing. I definitely relate to Hannah and Gabe a lot, each in their own way. A lot of the book felt very comforting and familiar to me. The book is equal parts supernatural action and intriguing mystery, and keeps you engrossed til the end. It's also Extremely Gay 7/10

4. The Way Out by Gavriel Savit

~ Yehuda Leib and Bluma set out from their tiny Pale shtetl, each on a mission of the utmost importance. Yehuda Leib is looking for his lost father, and Bluma is running from Death. Navigating the Far Country full of demons, goblins, and angels, the pair fight their way through history and mystery alike, and prepare to make war on Death himself ~

This book. Oh boy this book. Where do I start? This book made me cry several times, which hasn't happened in over 15 years. This book said everything about death I've been feeling since my bubbe passed away (עליה השלום). This book genuinely made me re-think how I view G-d? All that and more in less than 400 pages. This book harmonized with my soul. This book changed who I am as a person. This book made me crumble to dust and then built me back up from scratch. 10/10

[ravenssunshine]

“american jews need to stop believing the lie that they need israel”

please point me to an empty city square in the united states on a saturday morning where i can peacefully daven shabbat shacharit without fear of being harassed or so much worse.

point me to a beach where i can do kabbalat shabbat

point me to an academic campus

give me any of these places. make the diaspora safe for us. jerusalem and tel aviv should not be the only places where i can do this. please.

[seaside-stories]

HaKodesh Kadosh (Take me to Shul)

nsfw, religious imagery, ~1500 words

It was his brother’s bar mitzvah. His mother was absolutely livid when we walked in a half hour after shacharit had already started. She couldn’t chew us out since she was sitting at the front of the room, closest to the bimah, so she settled on giving us death stares. We both grabbed siddurs and he grabbed a kippah before we both went our separate ways, on opposite sides of the mechitza.

It didn't really matter to me which side of the mechitza I sat on, but I chose the women’s side that day to try to allay his mother’s fears of us disrupting the service after the transgression of coming in late.

I picked a seat all the way in the back. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to show support for the bar mitzvah boy and his family, it’s just that sometimes the rabbi can go on for a long time, and I want to be able to pull out my book without judgment.

Today, though, I was feeling rather spiritual. I abandoned my book in the siddur holder attached to the back of the seats in front of me and stood with the congregation. I said kaddish with them and sang along as they took the torah out of the aron and paraded it around the sanctuary. They even brought it all the way to where I was sitting so I could plant a little kiss on it.

I kept my eye on the person carrying the torah as they took it up to the bimah. They started to undress it, removing the cloth cover, velcro band, and adornments that kept it safe while it sat in the aron, waiting to be used.

“I wish that could be us,” said a voice from the other side of the mechitza. I didn’t have to pull the curtain aside to know that it was him.

“Are you serious? Right now?” I hissed. If it was any other situation I’d be inclined to humor him. But this felt a little sacrilegious. 

“Oh come on, I know you’re thinking it too. Plus, he’ll become a man whether I’m here or not, we may as well have a little fun while we’re here.”

I said a silent prayer for forgiveness and reminded myself that sex is technically a mitzvah.

I closed my siddur, put it in the holder attached to the seat in front of me, and slipped my hand behind the mechitza. His hand met mine and he interlocked our fingers. He brushed his thumb over the back of my hand for a minute, testing the waters.

I heard the sound of fabric against drywall in addition to the feeling of his weight shifting. I realized he’d moved from his seat to the floor and I followed suit. As soon as I got comfortable he got bolder. He moved our hands from his side to my side, and he rested them on my thigh.

He unclasped our hands and placed his palm on my leg. He didn’t stop the rubbing of his thumb, moving it from the back of my hand to my inner thigh. They had finished undressing the torah by now and had already called up some family member for the first aliyah.

As the bracha was read, his hand climbed higher and higher until it rested just before my most sensitive spot. I let out a shaky breath before placing my hand over his, guiding it onward.

“Amein,” the crowd sang out, and he sang it with them as he expertly slipped his hand under my clothes. I stifled a gasp as he ran his fingers through my pubic hair. I peered behind the mechitza and saw him looking dead ahead. He was playing the part of the perfect older brother, the good Jewish boy. But for a moment, he glanced over at me and flashed a sultry grin. I prayed the sound of crinkling candy wrappers would mask whatever noises I made.

After a few minutes he got bolder, moving his fingers so that they brushed against my sex. He worked them back and forth, with varying pressure, knowing just how to push my buttons and make me groan. He kept going, through the second and third aliyah, at a lazy pace, ignoring my hushed requests for him to speed up.

Then, all of a sudden, he stopped. I looked over and he got up almost mechanically, taking out a travel pack of kleenex and wiping his hands on it. I watched as he walked up to the bimah and put on a tallit. I mentally smacked myself. Of course he was reading from the torah. He’s the bar mitzvah boy’s brother. I saw him adjust his kippah and take the yad in his hand. Some people I didn’t recognize stood beside him and said the bracha, and then he began to read.

I tried to follow along in a chumash, but I couldn’t. I was still so distracted by his touch. I could feel the pulsing arousal in my core and I couldn’t ignore it. Eventually I worked up the courage to bring myself to the front of the sanctuary; to sit next to the bimah. I brought my chumash with me and I sat myself down right near where he was standing. He couldn’t see me yet, he was too focused on reading, but when he was done, he looked around and caught my eye. He came around to the right side of the table where the torah was being held, holding my gaze the entire time. I wondered if he was going to bend down and say something to me, when I noticed his hands were moving. He gestured to me, then to him, and then to the aron. I cocked my head at him. He wasn’t seriously suggesting…?

Before I could clarify his attention was taken by the chazzan, who was asking him to recite a bracha. Only two more aliyot before he would be able to sit down with me again.

Or so I thought. I had forgotten that the rabbi enjoyed speaking at length to the celebrating family. He was stuck up there for what felt like a million years. The rabbi droned on and on about community and adulthood and whatnot before finally giving the family a little baggie full of assorted judaica. I caught his eye one last time before he sat down next to his brother. He mouthed something to me, which looked a lot like “meet me behind the aron” before turning to face the front of the room, acting as if nothing had happened.

I sat on my hands all throughout musaf, trying to keep my mind on the prayers instead of where it wanted to go. I forced myself to say the words of the kaddish in earnest and I tried my best to follow along through the recitation of the amidah. But the end of the service couldn’t come fast enough. When the rabbi finally said the bracha over the wine, it took everything in my power to not race up to the bimah.

As calmly as I could, I ascended the small steps and looked around for him. I didn’t see him at first, but then I heard a hiss from behind me.

“Over here!”

I turned around to see a hand poking out from behind the aron. Inconspicuously, I went around the side to find that there was a small crawl space behind the aron that I had never known about, and that he had discovered. He beckoned me inside and I gladly took his invitation.

Neither of us wasted any time on pleasantries. We were both too worked up. He quickly slipped his fingers under my clothes once more and I took this opportunity to finally kiss him. I kissed him long and hard, moaning into his mouth as he worked his magic, flooding my senses with pure arousal.  I bucked my hips, grinding into his hand, and he laughed softly.

“You’re so worked up,” he whispered. “Maybe we should come here every week.”

I didn’t know if the pun had been intended, but even if it wasn’t he sped up his handiwork. I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer, and I tried to warn him. He simply shushed me and enveloped my mouth in another kiss. I continued to muffle breathy moans into his mouth as he pushed me over the edge and helped me through the aftermath.

Afterward I wanted to fall limp, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. I hadn’t realized how much energy I had devoted to this, but now that I had lost it I just wanted to fall asleep. He beckoned me closer and pulled my head onto his lap.

“Don’t worry about falling asleep,” he reassured me. “Everyone’ll be back for seudat shlishit. They won’t even know we’re gone. His words calmed my nerves, and I was able to fall into an easy doze.

[anonymousdandelion]

And if you feel comfortable doing do, please feel free to share more specifics in the notes about your movement/denomination/what “kind” of synagogue you attend!

(Note: For purposes of this poll we are excluding special non-weekly holiday services, such as Yom Kippur, which obviously draw bigger crowds.)

[silverjetsystm]

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

50 Random Character Asks | Accepting

Grant's real fake ID around the millennium was lost ages ago. Tossed out when it didn't serve a purpose, maybe. Stolen wallet somewhere hot and full of sand, tossed in the trash after the cash was pocketed. Amos laughed when he saw it with Spector's faded USMC red card.

Maybe they're in a box in the big empty mansion with Spector's papers. Amos too showed up at Grant Mansion in a box.

Spector's being attacked but Grant's Mansion is taking all the lumps.

The real fake ID was methodically carried out. Trips to the library, the DMV. Important, necessary during those warm summer nights when there was nobody else at home. A little crime. A little adventure. Easier ways. It wasn't in Grant's name. Name by chance, matched a real guy. An afterthought, no curiosity of who's identity they were lifting. Thumb always covered the name, showed the birth date. That's Grant in the picture, tall and babyfaced. Could've been a mugshot if not for the glint in his eyes.

River nights. What river? Doesn't matter. There's water, there's chatter. Tall kid clutching a drink of something strong, schmoozing. Friendly smile. He looked the part and that's what mattered in Lakeview. Boystown.Wrigleyville. When Spector wasn't doing road work and hitting the bag close enough to home in South Side.

Course, Spector and Lockley used the ID too with no clue it was legit. The real license was for learning how to drive, the ol back and forth with the old rabbi on appointments. The fake one was for weekends, for boxing, for dates and 'dates.' Spector (sometimes) getting shaken awake for Hashkama Shacharit with no clue what 'he' did after Shabbos dinner.

Their early years happened. Split, flowed, shared, divided. After all, Missouri and Illinois pay tribute to the Mississippi. Lots of tears and blood spilled during that time. Lots of behaviors. Drop in the bucket of what was to come.

What's a little identity fraud? Drop in the bucket.

[germiyahu]

Every week I'm like "Ugh why is it sauwr hard waking up for Shacharit Shabbat if only I like focused on spending my Friday night unplugging, centering myself, and making sure I go to bed early, so that I wake up well rested and recharged after a long week, if only there was like a routine I could follow to optimize breaking myself out of this it's the weekend mindset and prepare myself for worship!"

And then I'm like "......wait 🤔😬"

[pargolettasworld]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CfYrHQq7Mg

Psalm 136 is part of the Shabbat Shacharit service and the Great Hallel of the Passover seder.  It’s a fairly long Psalm, with a list of many good things that the Divine has done for the Jews and a refrain, “ki le’olam chasdo,” which my 1947 Haggadah translates as “May His mercy endure forever,” although perhaps a better translation would involve the word “lovingkindness.”  In any event, it’s often done as sort of a call-and-response, with a leader saying the lines, and the congregation responding with the refrain.  Because it is so long, it can get . . . well, a bit dull at times.

Not this setting!  This one mixes Hebrew and English with a hefty dose of joy and excitement.  This is a Psalm 136 that you could dance to, should dancing for thanks be your preferred method of interacting with the Divine.

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

Jewish Song of the Day #19: Psalm 24

Comments:

This week is a special week, because I have decided to post only Tehillim.

Why Psalms? Well, you see there already is such a thing as Jewish Song of the Day that's part of our daily morning liturgy. It's called Shir Shel Yom (Song of the Day) and happens at the end of the service.

Per the Orthodox Union:

One of the last prayers which are recited each morning as part of the shacharit service is the "shir shel yom", the song of the day.[1] The kabbalists teach that through the recitation of the shir shel yom we ensure that our prayers reach heaven in a favorable manner, untainted by harmful forces. It is also noted that the morning is a time of chessed – kindness - which further facilitates the acceptance of prayers that are recited in the morning.[2] Although not immediately apparent, the daily shir shel yom corresponds to the day's significance in the order of creation.[3] The idea of reciting a different song each day is alluded to in Chapter 92 of Tehillim which opens with "A song for the Shabbat day" implying that every day of the week has a chapter of Tehillim which corresponds to it. Additionally, we see from here that the practice of reciting a daily shir shel yom is quite ancient. Each shir shel yom is taken from the book of Tehillim and is reminiscent of the song that the Levites would sing in the Beit Hamikdash each day following the morning offering.[4] No less than twelve Levites would assemble to form a choir whose task was to sing these songs.[5] Although musical instruments were a prominent component of this performance, the mitzva only requires a vocal presentation.[6] Before the Levites would sing the shir shel yom they would recite a preliminary blessing as is common before performing many other mitzvot.[7] While the chapters of Tehillim which are recited as the shir shel yom are fundamentally similar to the songs of the Levites, they are not identical texts.

It seems only fitting that, since there is already a real Jewish Song of the Day, if I'm going to do my own version, I may as well honor this ancient and ongoing practice as part of it!