Lessons from a pie

More smiling, less worrying. More compassion, less judgment. More blessed, less stressed. More love, less hate.
― Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart

Make your own Bible. Select and collect all the words and sentences that in all your readings have been to you like the blast of a trumpet.
― Ralph Waldo Emerson

Every year, at the start of the Hebrew month of Elul (corresponding approximately to August-September), I promise myself that, this year!, I will prepare properly for the upcoming High Holiday season, in particular, the Jewish New Year; Rosh HaShana. This year was no exception.

As a kid, back in the Old Country, getting ready for yontiff meant ordering a turkey, getting the meat grinder out of the back of the basement cupboard where it lived most of the year, and polishing the ridiculously heavy silver cutlery that lived in a different basement cupboard. 

These preparations, while important, are not the kind of preparations I had in mind.

Each year, I try to do some badly needed self-introspection to understand and correct bad habits, hurtful mannerisms, wasted opportunities, and promise myself that I'll be a better person.

It never works.

I'll be thinking about how I should be watching less TV and learning more Torah when my mind veers to remembering that I forgot to buy ketchup, and wondering if the new season of Supernatural is starting in October or November.

This year, I was determined it would be different.

I signed up for a whole lot of 'be ready for Rosh HaShana' emails, and whattsapps, and podcasts. I was going to learn from great Rabbis how to seek forgiveness, how to forgive, how to grow.

I was determined I would be spiritually ready for the holidays. I would be able to face God and be clear in what areas I would need His help.

But first I had to see if there was enough hummus in the house. And throw another load of laundry in. And check Facebook.

I did manage to read a few articles and listen to a few podcasts. The messages were all the same. Forgive - you'll feel better; do mitzvot - you'll feel better; Pray more, give more, listen more - you'll feel better; God is waiting for you to come to Him, Go - you'll feel better.

But I wasn't feeling better. I was still worrying whether there were enough eggs and making sure everyone had clean laundry. 
Becoming spiritual was taking a long time. In fact, we needed more hummus. Also, tahina. 

Until one day, about a week or so before the holiday, I read the first magic words. 

'Forgive yourself.'  

That was a radical concept.  

The article said that if you didn't first forgive yourself, how could you expect others to forgive you, and how could you forgive others?
Acknowledge that you are imperfect, have always been imperfect, and will always be imperfect. 

Move on.  

Then, acknowlege the positive qualities you do have and embrace them. Set about to make those parts of yourself better.
Find spirituality in what you already have - not in what you wished you had.  

This, unlike all the other messages, gave me pause.

Forgive myself for the messy house; for the burned rice; for the white dress shirt that turned pink in the laundry; for the weight gain; for the stupid thing(s) I've said, for the anger, and yes, even for the hatred, that has, at times, overwhelmed me? 
This part was hard - I admit. 

Acknowledge what I have; family, community, amazing friends, humour, intelligence, creativity.  I can also make a mean lemon meringue pie. 
That part was easier. 
But finding spirituality was still elusive. 

It occurred to me that I was looking in the wrong places. 

Instead of a podcast, I wondered, could I find spirituality in lemon meringue pie? 

I could, I realized, if I make it (or, in fact make anything) with love and generosity rather than resentment and fatigue. 

Rote prayers and podcasts were causing my mind to stray to thoughts of laundry and the burned rice pan, no matter how hard I tried to concentrate. But great music or a great book - music that has me singing and/or dancing; a book that can make me think, a book that makes me want to be friends with the hero, or with the writer - can move me to tears. Is this a sin - or spirituality in a different locale?

Furthermore, friends, I've come to realize in my spiritual wanderings, are one of God's greatest blessings. They enrich my life immeasurably. They make good times better and hard times easier.
Having coffee with a friend is truely a spiritual experience. 

ותשובה ותפילה וצדקה, מעבירין את רוע הגזרה

Repentance, and prayer and charity will avert the severity of the decree

we read in the Unetaneh Tokef Prayer

If I can give up resentment for generosity, and boredom for thoughtful tears, is this not tshuva? Does it matter if the generosity comes in the form of pie? Is it relevant if the words that move me and bring me closer to G-d are in a novel and not in a prayer book? (Obviously depends on the words, but hey, you know what I mean). 

In Parsha Niztavim, the last Torah reading of the year that we read right before Rosh HaShana, we are told to choose life. Choosing life is a given, very few people choose not to live. So why would the Torah command us to choose life when we do so naturally? 

The Torah is telling us to choose a life of meaning, a holy life, a Godly life. Choose, we are told, to live our lives such that we will be remembered when we die – whenever that might be – for our generosity and kindness, for our love and affection, and not because we have nice shoes, or a clean house, or lots of money in the bank (and not even because we listen to podcasts about spirituality all day). 

For then, we will live on – long days – in the memories of our children and children’s children. 

Live life: eat the cake, read the book, drink the coffee. 

There, we will find God.