A radically relational progressive Jewish community in north-west London and online

📆 Published 

🗃️

Builders Simone Aspis and Lilly-Emma Thynne and Student Rabbi Yael Tischler gave Divrei Torah as part of Disability Pride Shabbat last Saturday.

Rest for its Own Sake by Student Rabbi Yael Tischler

Five years ago, I was diagnosed with epilepsy. This has changed many things about my life: how I calculate risk, how I engage – or no longer engage – with activities I love, how I care for my daughter, how I study, how I lead, how I work and how I care for others. But most importantly, it has shifted my relationship with my body. The likelihood of my seizures increases when I do not allow myself adequate rest. This means that I am constantly tuning into my body: How are my energy levels? Is it time to go on an hour-long run? Or is it time for a nap? Have I taken on a right-sized level of responsibilities? Or have I bitten off more than I can chew? Is what I’m doing giving me energy? Or  is it draining me? This has also made me much more attuned to this in others. Maybe I’ve asked you: “Are you sure you haven’t taken on too much?” “Are there other people who might be able to support you with that?”

In Parashat Mishpatim, God teaches us about Shabbat – the Day of Rest:

Six days you shall do your work, but on the seventh day you shall cease from labour, in order that your ox and your ass may rest, and that your home-born slave and the stranger may be refreshed.

This is not the only moment in which God commands us to observe Shabbat; the Torah repeats this commandment multiple times. Elsewhere, the Torah offers three main theological reasons that we must observe Shabbat. Number one: we rest to emulate God, because God rested on the seventh day of Creation. Number two: we rest as a remembrance of the Exodus from Egypt. Rest is a sign of our freedom, and a reminder not to treat others the way we were treated when we were enslaved. Number three: rest is a sign of our covenant with God. But here, in Parashat Mishpatim, we are not given any theological justification for Shabbat. Rest is lishma – for its own sake. We don’t need a reason to rest other than that we need to rest. In a fast-paced culture that values busy-ness, productivity, and stretching ourselves past capacity, perhaps this is the most powerful reason of all. 

Kathryn Nicolai, who creates the sleep-aid podcast “Nothing Much Happens,” sometimes reminds her listeners, like myself, that rest is like water. It’s something our bodies need in order to survive. We don’t feel guilty when we need to drink water. So why should we feel guilty when we need to rest? And yet, so often, we do. In part, this is the fault of ableism. In the words of Rabbi Julia Watts Belser, theologian and disability justice activist, “Ableism is a complex system, one that works in myriad ways to deny disabled people access, agency, resources and self-determination… One of the ways ableism operates? It fashions speed and stamina as a threshold condition for basic belonging. Ableist values intertwine with capitalist pressures to laud those who work at a punishing pace. One of the lies ableism tells us? You only matter if you can keep up.” But few, if any of us, can. Nor should we.

Rest is critical for many people with disabilities; it is key to our continued wellbeing. However, may I be so bold as to say that this is true for all humanity and all living beings, even those who do not identify as disabled. Rest is necessary for our survival and our thriving. God commands us to care for our bodies and for the bodies of others. God commands us to care for our minds and the minds of others. God commands us to care for our spirits and the spirits of others. 

And, moreover, in Parashat Mishpatim, in the same breath as God commands us to observe Shabbat, God also commands us to care for the land upon which we live. In the verse before the commandment to observe Shabbat, God also commands us to observe the Sabbatical Year, a year of rest for the land:

Six years you shall sow your land and gather in its yield; but in the seventh you shall let it rest and lie fallow.

This suggests that care for each of us is inextricably linked to caring for the Earth that is our home. In fact, argues disability activist Rabbi Elliot Kukla, “The future is one of unconditional love and care, of systems based on care as opposed to profit. The systems we have now are not human. I do believe that if there were ways to care for us as humans, that would also care for the planet.” Rest is not a mere self-indulgence, it is also a call for the healing of our species, our society and the Earth.

This Shabbat, I invite all of us – whether we identify as disabled or not – into the practice of rest as a political act, a rebellion against our society’s assumption that we must stretch ourselves to capacity and beyond, in order to be of value. May we know that we have inherent value. And may that knowledge liberate us to refresh ourselves. To rest, simply for its own sake. We don’t need a reason.

If one root fails, the whole tree falls by Lilly-Emma Thynne

Once upon a time, in a woodland not far from here, there was a shimmering pond home to glistening fish and ribbiting frogs. Standing firmly by this pond was the most beautiful tree called Willow whose branches grew far and wide from the tree’s trunk and danced to the songs of the birds who sought shelter. Working together, each of her roots helped Willow face down howling winds and thundering storms. However, one day a root cried out “Please help me! I am unable to carry this weight any longer.” The other roots listened to this cry for help and thought about how every root is different – some long, some short, some thick, some thin, some growing in a completely different direction to the others. The roots agreed that to help Willow grow and thrive, they would need to support her in different ways. If one root was growing in a different direction, another would join for support. If one was not as long as the others, they would not be made to carry the same weight. In this way, everyone contributed to Willow’s success but not all in the same way. 

Last week was the Festival of the Trees, Tu Bishvat, which we celebrated as a community at our intergenerational service, at the Sunday morning park social, and at our Tu Bishvat seder during Shabbat BaBayit. Tu Bishvat is an important festival, reminding us of the spiritual significance trees represent within Judaism. We are told in Deuteronomy chapter 20, verse 19, that we must not wield an axe to a fruit tree. This may be because, as explained in Genesis, seed-bearing fruits sustain life when eaten and create new plant life when sewn in the ground. Furthermore, God chose for the tree to be the symbol of life by causing the “tree of life” to grow in the centre of the garden of Eden alongside the fruit-bearing “tree of knowledge of good and evil”. 

Like a tree, we as human beings continue to develop and blossom despite obstructions and challenges. Just as the roots of a tree will grow around obstructive rocks, or grow in new directions to seek out water in the soil, we too must navigate unexpected problems and seek out new opportunities. 

Ezekiel offers an allegory that compares communities of people to plant life. In this allegory, God describes the followers of Zedekiah as a vine whose roots grow under him and whose branches turn towards him. God identifies that this vine was easily wooed by power, and the followers turned to the Egyptian Pharaoh. Eventuality, in chapter 17 verses 22 to 24, God continues this theme of plant life representing community when promising the restoration of the people of Israel. God describes how a seed will be planted in “Israel’s loft highlands” which will grow into a “noble cedar” tree under which “Every bird of every feather shall take shelter”. 

If you can, and if you feel comfortable doing so, close your eyes for a moment. Reflecting on this idea that a tree can represent a group of people, picture a tree that can represent Makor Hayim. What type of tree is it? How tall is it? What colour are its leaves? Taking this analogy further, and considering our story of Willow, each root can represent a Builder. The branches can represent our collaborative projects, events and celebrations. The leaves can represent our achievements, most notably the diverse and expansive number of memories created together.

If you haven’t already, please feel free to open your eyes and rejoin us in this space.

As we know, each one of us is different. When you pictured the Makor Hayim tree, maybe you noticed how the roots grew in different directions and were different lengths. We all bring our strengths to this space but also have to acknowledge the challenges we are facing which may influence how we act or what form of contribution we make. Last week, at Shabbat BaBayit, we reflected on Parashat Yitro. In particular, we looked at Exodus chapter 18 verses 14 to 18 in which Jethro, Moses’ father in law, asks Moses, “Why do you act alone, while all the people stand about you from morning until evening?” Jethro goes on to say, “You will surely wear yourself out, and these people as well. For the task is too heavy for you; you cannot do it alone”. This message is just as important this week in the context of disability pride as it was last week in the context of environmentalism. To support our Makor Hayim tree, and to allow it to grow long branches with luscious leaves, we must work together to support each one of us. To do this, it is important we understand each other and are able to recognise when someone is struggling and may need a bit of extra support. 

There is a brilliant book that I highly recommend called Inclusive Judaism, in which Rabbi Dr Jonathan Romain and Rabbi David Mitchell consider how to “marry both tradition and change, and also to seek the good of both the community at large and the needs of individuals within it”. In this book, they explain, “In a world where institutions struggle to address the needs of the individual, it is the values of autonomy, inclusivity and intellectual integrity that make the synagogue a welcoming place”. 

As we continue to build community at Makor Hayim, the values of autonomy, inclusivity and intellectual integrity can be found in each of our own values – torah (learning), chesed (kindness), tzedek (justice), hineini (leadership), and kavannah (intentionality). We seek to create a welcoming community for all, that facilitates learning, inspires action both inside and outside these walls, and creates accessible opportunities for anyone to get involved.

We are all made in the image of God by Simone Aspis

Judaism teaches that God was the creator of the world and everything in it. God created Adam b’tselem Elohim, in God’s own image.

B’tselem Elohim is the idea that human beings, including all of us, are made in the image of or the likeness of God.  Pirkei Avot 3:14 (14) says: Beloved is the person, created in the image of God. A deeper love is revealed to those created in God’s image, as it says (Genesis 9:6) “for in God’s own image God made humankind.”   Rashi goes on to say that nowhere in the Torah are we given any specification of what constitutes a human form.  So a human is a human.  

Given we are all made in the image of God, this suggests that God is within each of us without judgement and discrimination.  Individuals with our unique minds, brains and bodies are all reflections of God.    The fact that God is within each of us is reflected in who we are, what we are and how we are in the universe.   God is reflected in our own sense of thinking, feeling, being, doing and destiny within the universe and via versa.  All humans including disabled people with different impairments and health conditions are all reflections of God’s creation and vice versa. Thus, God is an “I” in each of ourselves, a reflection of many atomized individuals with various characteristics.   

However, we can construe humankind as one.   God does not view us as individualized atomized individuals with our unique characteristics.  God’s reflecting humanity can include the interconnectedness and interdependence between all humans.  Instead of viewing us as a collection of individuals with specific capabilities, we can reframe us as One, which allows us to embrace all humans with all sorts of capabilities, needed collectively to do God’s work.  

Let’s just think about this for a moment, when we wake up in the morning.   Let’s take a simple task of having a morning wash.   Did you manage to do the following by yourself?  

  • Build the sink and fix the pipework 
  • Collect the water 
  • Purify the water
  • Clean the sewage  
  • Make sure water comes out of the tap
  • Make the soap 

The morning wash is one of many tasks one performs throughout the day.  What I hope you have noticed is how much of our independence is so much dependent on other humans.  As such, we are all interconnected and interdependent through our individual and collective capabilities which can be reflected by God’s one’s humankind.    

The universe we inhabit is a reflection of God’s desire of a place where all humans (and others) can live in harmony.  This suggests that God wanted all humans (and others) to live alongside each other within a universe created and inclusive of all.   Our universe reflects universal (inclusive) design principles right from inception.    Our physical world should be designed to be inclusive of all humans (and others) with and without impairments and health conditions.   Disabled people would be able to enjoy the same physical freedoms as non-disabled people take for granted.   Our physical environment including each building would be designed so that disabled people would face no barriers to entry.   In our Jewish lives, our synagogues, prayer spaces, our community spaces would encompass universal design principles so that all of us can join together as God would have wanted in the physical universe.  

Similarly, our universe should reflect God’s spirit in how we live in harmony within the physical universe.   We would experience a sense of justice, embracing all humankind regardless of who we are.   God’s place demands acceptance, respect and dignity afforded for each of us regardless of our varying sensory, emotional and cognitive differences and experiences.   In our Jewish lives our synagogues, prayer spaces, our community spaces would reflect universal inclusive principles which places emphasis on how we should be accepting and respecting each one of us when engaging in Jewish life and beyond.    

When we act in a disablist or ablest manner within a physical world that discriminates against us, the question is are we truly reflecting the image and the likeness of God and vice versa?     However, when we act in a spirited manner which is built on the foundations of inclusivity and interconnectivity and interdependence then we are truly reflecting the image and likeness of God and vice versa. 

Leave a Reply