honey and milk
This morning, I went to church. Which is something I haven't done for years, not since those long-ago days when I was engaged to Patrick, and we'd go to shul on my Sabbath and to 8:00 mass at St. Peter's on Sunday morning. Today was Pentecost, which I think is the Christian equivalent of Shavuos, the celebration of the giving of the Torah. Certainly, the underlying story has similarities and the priest told us about the descent of the Holy Spirit in tongues of fire and the reversal of Babel, with all languages miraculously melding into one.
But it's more than religious tourism. I'm clearly searching for something -- a missing piece, a missing peace. After the debacle following the twins' deaths, I can't go back to my old synagogue. But I'm not sure how to find a synagogue where I can go. Someone sympathetic gave me the phone number of another rabbi, who told me exactly what I had been hoping to hear and promised that, if I wanted, she would stand with me in front of the Ark and say prayers for the babies and for my own healing. I didn't take her up on it. To choose a congregation solely on the basis of its attitude toward neonatal loss seems suspiciously like cheating.
And it's not as if I used to go to services regularly. I'd show up at morning minyan once in a while, mostly because I wanted to help make sure that they had the necessary minimum of ten people. Occasionally, I'd go on Saturday morning. Still -- and this is entirely my own fault -- I never got to know any of the other members and I never believed that anyone knew or cared that I was there. In fact, I realized as I sat in the pew this morning, watching everyone else line up to receive communion, I was no more alone in this alien church than I was among people of my own faith.
13 comments:
Life is a spiritual journey to be sure and I think we have an innate desire to be connected to Someone other than ourselves or others...Someone who understands when no one else does. Some call it a quest for Truth and some a journey toward peace. Either way, I think it is both a want and a need that we search for and hopefully find.
I have spent a lot of time recently thinking about how religion and faith are really two very different things. At their best, the practices of our religions serve to feed and nurture our faith, but they can also become obstacles.
However, just living our faith as an individual ultimately becomes insulating and isolating- even though that is what I am often tempted to do. Religion would be a lot easier to practice if it didn't get so muddied up by all the people practicing it (I say with a smile).
An interesting book I am reading is called "When the Heart Waits" by Sue Monk Kidd. It explores her journey to understand periods of spiritual desolation, and the art of 'active waiting.' I am not very far into it yet, but I was intrigued by the premise.
You have my prayers as you continue on this journey.
I understand the "cheating" thought, but then again, why go somewhere else and feel invisible?
Maybe you can attend and view the rabbi before actually introducing yourself, just to see if maybe, just maybe you can find some of that missing peace.
religious tourism...
missing piece, missing peace...
i love your way with words.
Here are my thoughts, for what they might or might not be worth...
Maybe if you take the rabbi up on her offer it might actually be a healing experience. And maybe, in doing so, you may find that there are other reasons why this might be a good place for you. Sure, the attitude toward neonatal loss is one attribute that might draw you to this congregation...but perhaps the love and generosity of the rabbi is a legitimate reason as well? It is possible that you might find more reasons, once you take those first steps. And if these reasons don't seem to be enough, then...hmm...at least you gave it a shot.
I've been considering trying church again, lately. I don't really know what I believe anymore, or if I believe anything, and I tell myself I want to go for the community. So why is it that when a coworker invited me this week to the very church I've been considering, I recoiled at the idea? Maybe you shrink from the friendly rabbi because you don't want anyone to expect anything from you, neither faith nor fellowship. Or maybe that's just me.
I hope you find what you are seeking.
To find one that recognizes your precious twins' lives is not, at least to me, a frivilous persuit.
Kudos on your endeavor
You know, after I responded to your initial post about the way that Judaism handles stillbirth and infant death, I went back and looked up more about it. As it turns out, Judaism has made shifts on the issue since late pregnancy loss and infant death is now so much less common than it once was.
The stance was really meant to be kind to parents. In a time when it was very common for women to lose babies and infants, it simply wasn't practical to impose all the Jewish mourning rituals on parents. They might constantly be in mourning.
But maybe you knew all that anyway...
I am curious about what kind of temple you belong to. I find the reform movement to be much more forward thinking in general (kind of by definition).
Vixanne: I think you're absolutely right about the original purpose and effect of not requiring mourning rituals for stillbirth and neonatal loss.
Although you might think that reform Judaism would be more open to creating some kind of religious structure for dealing with the loss of a newborn, in fact, the reform synagogue that I'd belonged to for many years was not at all willing to try and find a way for me to mourn the twins.
However, I'd like to believe that that was mostly due to insensitivity of the particular rabbi I dealt with. I probably mentioned it earlier, but I was genuinely shocked when he told me that he had officiated at funerals "in much worse circumstances, where a 5 or 10 year old child had died." Not exactly what I wanted to hear at that moment.
Conservative Judaism has developed specific religious rituals for neonatal death and stillbirth -- and the more sympathetic rabbi that I spoke with later is affiliated with a conservative synagogue.
Niobe- I am shocked and saddened your rabbi said such a thing to you in the midst of your grief. That was entirely inappropriate and a person in a position of spiritual leadership should know better. I am so sorry. I know that for me those kinds of responses, especially from someone in a position like his, only serve to increase my insecurity that I am somehow behaving badly by mourning the loss of my infant twins. That somehow I am making "too much of it." I am so sorry, and it is no wonder you are not sure where you belong right now.
I hope you find somewhere that you feel comfortable. It seems like it's not exactly your religious faith that has been shaken, as much as your faith in the religious community. Choosing a congregation for its attitude toward an issue that's important to you seems perfectly reasonable to me. (I chose the Unitarians on the basis of being able to be in a spiritual community without having to espouse any particular views on a supreme being.) Enjoy the search -- it sounds like it could be a very rewarding experience.
Darn it - I thought I commented already.
I agree that it might not be the best decision to choose a congregation solely on the basis of its attitude toward neonatal loss. There are so many other key questions between Reform and Conservatism. But to attend right now, to take the compassionate rabbi up on her offer right now, doesn't mean a lifetime commitment to one movement or the either. Both Reform and Conservatism have developed rituals around neonatal and infant loss. I still think the rabbi at your old congregation was completely off base, and not speaking of anything but his own, all too common, lack of understanding and regard for the depth of grief we feel. I wish I knew who he was because I'd really love to confront him about his lack of rachmonos towards a struggling family. Whatever his personal issues, as a rabbi he ought to have put them aside to comfort you. He's Reform, for goodness sake, his choice to use halachah in this way was out of line. I could go on and on, but I won't.
I think that choosing a synagogue because of their attitudes toward neonatal loss doesn't seem like a bad idea. Those prayers might really help right now. And what your rabbi said...is pretty horrible. I'm sorry. You know, my mother in law said "at least you're not paralyzed in a wheelchair" 2 days after the twins died. People just do not know how their words can hurt.
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