Sukkot

Meditation for Sukkah

I can totally get behind a ritual to celebrate joy! In our war weary world, with so much suffering and pain within the human family, it's easy to put our attention to "being with" the difficult things and sidelining joy until something good happens. We're probably all guilty of this, to some extent. Sukkot suggests that good is there all the time; joy is there for the taking. If only we rely on G-d.

In the Jewish faith, Sukkot is the holiday of rejoicing. There is a link above for a sukkah meditation that sheds light on the meaningful process of sukkah sitting.

It was my pleasure last week to sit with my friend Debbie in her sukkah on the first day of Sukkot. This experience wasn't completely new to me. Although this time, I was focused on the spiritual lift: being in Love with joy. The experience was refreshing.

Debbie gave me reading material ahead of time at my request. I didn't want to enter this holy space without clear intention. So I enjoyed some basic research. I will say, though, that for a person of faith, although not Jewish, I felt the power of the discipline. Joy was magnified through the observance.

The sukkah represents G-d's protection of the ancestors as they traveled through the desert after the Exodus from Egypt. It is said that a miraculous cloud-covering shielded the people on their journey. The sukkah, a temporary dwelling made of wood, covered with branches, simulates a safe haven, reminding the faithful of G-d's kindness, a reaffirmation of G-d's trust. This holy hut is kept up for 7 days and nights. All meals are consumed in the space. It is regarded as home for this period. Debbie's sukkah was decked out with hanging fruits of all kinds, special familial objects and significant images upon which one could meditate.

Within a sukkah, there is the observance of the Four Kinds: citron, palm frond, myrtle twigs and willow twigs. Each day of Sukkot, a blessing is recited (Hallel) as the Four Kinds are waved in the six directions: up, down, forward, backward, right and left. The Four Kinds represent the various types and personalities that comprise the community of Israel, and in action the intrinsic unity of the people and the time of their joy!

As my friend did her recitation, rocking ever-so-slightly back and forth, heel to toe, the speed of the Hebrew words seemed to transcend the moment. The ritual was both simple and rich: the personal action taken was the prayer, the words (some of them sung) were an other worldly music, somewhat like the hovering clouds of God's provision so long ago, bringing that incredible Love, the Great Protection, into real time. (I will say that my friend has a lovely voice, lending to the ethereal nature of the experience.)

This was not a performance, but a devotion. I was not just observing, but experiencing. The unity of friends through prayer is powerful, indeed.

As I mentioned, part of the sukkah decorations were photo images, laminated to withstand the weather. I took a photo of a photo of the Wailing Wall that hung near my seat. The result, a happy accident of sun glare on the plastic casing, letters and numbers bleeding through from the other side, is shown below. Eerie in a good way, I think. The prayers of so many, from pilgrimage after pilgrimage, seem a present energy. Almost an animation of spirit through the power of the sukkah Light.

My friend fixed a gorgeous lunch! We laughed and nibbled, talked about faith and friendship and G-d.
It was a perfectly delightful day, a meaningful day.

I had to stop back, after my evening obligations, to photograph the sukkah Light in the dark (grin). I just couldn't get enough of it. The space was glowing. Debbie had more friends there, sharing another meal, the unity of all visitors that day and from the ages, resonating in this temporary dwelling, the permanence of G-d's Love.

Anew!

London Coe, Owner & Buyer, Peace on Fifth, Dayton, OH

There is a peripheral pleasure in being inside my head.  I am an introvert and no one knows it, well, actually know you all do.  I like being in my own space seeking my own comfort.  Rarely do I pay attention to the workings and making of others unless or until those actions bring me direct discomfort. When those actions remove from me something that I have fought for, have earned, have inherited. Otherwise, I am quite at peace to move without language and just be.  Can you be like that, too?  Needing to be still and quiet?  

In an effort, strenuous as it can be, I wanted to start paying more attention to the world.  To move out of my head space and show off my muscles, my I-see-you-and-you-matter muscles.  So the top of the month I started to make notes about people and them with me and me with them.  The first week of September I noted some fantastic things happening to me. Since we share, really you are sharing nothing, it is I, wide open and vulnerable (do you see how grumpy I get with the sharing?  Still working on that.) This is what happened to me week 1 September 2013....

23 people not related to me told me "I love you"
12 people told me "I am proud of you"
13 people told me "Thank you" 
14 people said "I trust you"
1 person sent a letter saying "I believe in you and what you do"
3 people said "I need you"
10 people told me "You are powerful"
8 people told me "I can't wait to see you"
2 people gave me copies of my article in last Sunday's paper
8 people told me "I just wanted to say hello and shake your hand"
Called legendary (by an international mini-celebrity), a force of nature, lovely, sparkling, true inspiration, fascinating, community activist, philanthropist, wrong, difficult, unrelenting, aggressive, unfriendly, inflexible, exhausting to deal with and too much.

While there was less fun stuff, the good was so heavy that it wiped out, wiped away chunks of glutenous-ly sordid feedback. As my tally sheet started growing and diversifying of what was coming my way, I was tempted to be my typical self and dismiss, debase, reduce the value of what was being offered. Saying "Oh thanks, but no, no, YOU are great." or "Well it's really nothing" or whatever else I have been fond of saying. Instead, I said "Thank you", "That makes me feel good", "You have earned chocolate this that compliment." This week as I started to become more loving and welcoming, not just open to this ... honoring of my self/work/place in the world I just allowed me to except it. To breathe into it, to open my eyes and watch it, to smell it, to eat it, to embrace it.

As I work, actively to walk closer to the light part of my journey is the receiving of the sacrament of compassion. A holy and reciprocal sacrament. Dishing it out is great, but you/i/we/them/us will get as good as we give. The receiving is part of the dishing out! After this week, I sat still and accepted what came my way, I became more aware of the need to return the favor. To return " I love you"/ "I trust you"/ "I need you"/ "I believe in you"/ "You are powerful" etc.

So let's toast to reciprocity. Right now.

I return the favor in a nutshell:

I love you.
I need you.
I pray for you.
I trust you.
I believe you.
I will light a path when you want to come home.
I will sing your name when you are sad.
I am proud of you.
I am happy for you.
I am happy with you.
I need you to survive.
I forgive you.
I thank you.

One Thing

You know how some things just stick in your memory and you don't know why? Seemingly insignificant bits that pop into current time every now and again, oddly important in the new moment? This is God work in my vernacular ~ prayer fodder, footage for thought. (grin)

The clip below is one of those pop culture theology scenes of my earlier years. It resonates still.
Jack Palance has always been a favorite of mine. Have a look.



"One thing. You stick to that and everything else don't mean shit." The cowboy prophet.
I love, love, love that moment!

The character of Curly (Jack Palance) is a man of vision, someone who appears to have followed his calling dutifully. A shepherd of sorts who has strong opinions, but is well acquainted with choice. A man with a sense of humor and a stalwart faith. A man who dies doing what he loves and living what he knows to be true. For the mid-life-crisis fellows he models for: a saint.

One thing. Name it what you wish.

My opinion: we are all that One thing. Aspects of the Whole. Our separateness is our choice.
Our Oneness is a given.

Peace in Action

We stood out in the heat of the day, waiting for the performance. Dieudonne and his drummers were preparing to perform as part of the Dayton African American Cultural Festival.  I was there to watch, to gage audience reaction, to get a sense of numbers, to pay attention. My tasks were just beginning as outreach coordinator for the group. As I watched these men, roughly 4 years old to 55, families coming together to share the riches of a culture, I felt a sense of awe. The joy and camaraderie, the commitment, the mystical sense of awe they exude as they play: the power was there and shared!

At the break, I asked Donne about peace. The dances are celebratory, you know, like the honoring of a community birth or a ritual for young men coming of age. Yet so often, we had spoken of peace. I wondered what he meant. Perhaps the dances marked the end of war? I asked him.

He smiled knowingly. "Well, let me tell you, Jean."
I listened carefully.The answer was humbling. It took a minute to register the full impact. Simple and at some level, heart wrenching at another.

They call themselves the Royal Court Drummers, an extension of the traditional artists of Burundi. The performance of the Royal Drummers has been the same for centuries, techniques and traditions passed down from father to son. The rhythmic chants were said to extol the virtues of the Kingship, regarded as semi-divine. The King had been known to interpret the beating of the central drum into rules for the kingdom.

The drums were (and are) considered sacred. Each one is a hollowed out tree trunk covered with an animal skin. They were kept in sanctuaries, honored for their essential power and connection to the Divine. The Dayton drummers went through copious amounts of red tape to have drums sent to them from Burundi. They provide repairs and upkeep here.

The drums hold a particular order in performance. The central drum establishes a rhythm. Other drums play continuously, offering variations on the central theme. Yet other drums emulate the rhythm of the central drum, adding to the power of the sound. Members of the ensemble take turns playing the central drum: dancing, resting, playing other drums, all without interruption. Each piece, about 25 minutes in duration. There are 8 to 10 players. The dancers work intensely for the entire piece, even the very youngest ones. Inspiring.

The drums were often known as "dispensers of peace." The sacred anthems of the drums were established before the fall of the monarchy, before the massacre of Hutus, before politics, before genocide. The origins were joyful! The playing of these sacred objects was about fertility and regeneration, about celebrating the divine spark within all connected to the King and to each other.
This was the essence of peace within each person, within the community. If played at a funeral, the drums honored the dead - the peace that passes all understanding. Sacred always.

"That is why we play today," Dieudonne said. It's about reestablishing peace. "When we go back to Burundi," he continued, "we want to take the Light of Peace." And Light, they are.

Hearing stories about their war-torn homeland is devastatingly sad. Dieudonne was generous in sharing personal stories, horrific events that no person should have to endure. As I listened to him, i felt myself fall for a moment, into a sense of despair. Where is hope? How can any of us go on? Why such suffering? The answer came clear as I looked into Donne's eyes, as I watched the impassioned performance, as I remembered the words of these men in casual conversation, speaking about bringing their sons up in this tradition. The Divine came rushing in through their intentions, through their actions, like a balm for the soul. The symbol that these men share in this art form is restorative. Not religious, but central to the human soul, however one believes. It's Love. How does Love manifest? Peace, above all things. Peace.

John F. Kennedy said, "peace does not rest in charters and covenants alone. It lies in the hearts and minds of the people." The truth of this is revealed so beautifully for me in the Burundian culture. It shows the Charter for Compassion as the lively document it is meant to be. We all have an entry point. At first, the words were enough. Now the words lead me to see, to acknowledge and to. . .act.

Actions matter. Small to large and everything in between, including the ritual of art making (drumming or whatever suits you) to awaken your call to manifest Love, to make Peace.

Drum traditions in other cultures reflect this peace. The Native American culture is another prime example. Drum circles around the world signify a level of peace through a common "heartbeat" - through the action of music-making in community. It is all so real when we take it in as more than just another activity for the family to schedule, but a genuine effort to restore Love to the center of our hearts and communities. We can all build the capacity for peace, first in ourselves, then in others.

Thank you to my friends: Dieudonne, Everiste, Elvis, Hubert and their families.
Drums as dispensers of peace? Yep. That works.