Saying Goodbye to the Chagim
On the 24th of Elul, several days after leading Elul services at our small Reconstructionist minyan, I tested positive for COVID. This was only my second direct encounter with the plague of our times, but the first one, back in 5782, left me regularly gasping for breath and with my immune system in tatters.
So I entered the holiest days of the year alone on my sickbed instead of gathering with my community, checking my oxygen levels regularly to see if I'd need to ask for a ride to the ER. By Yom Kippur, I was testing negative, but still wiped out and quarantining. Rather than fasting to stand in the divine presence, I feasted between prayers, because my body couldn't endure deprivation.
The next day I started building my sukkah in increments of thirty minutes maximum. My heart rate would spike, and I'd go and lie down for hours to recover. By the very end of the chag, it had something like walls and a roof. I didn't eat or sleep in it, but I made it.
Often, we approach our holidays as a performance, with a list of mitzvot, minhagim, meals and prayers without which the day isn't complete. But entering this year brought low like this reminded me that they're not about doing, but about pausing and recognizing the moment that we're in. Presence, rather than performance. Not to do, but to be here in the world at this time and to really know it.
May we be, and may we rest, as we exit the chagim and continue into the greatest and most joyful jewish holiday. Shabbat shalom.
