My First Shavuot (I barely knew what it was last year)

Shavuot commemorates the receiving of Torah and the Ten Commandments on Mount Sinai, and is also a harvest festival in that Jews in ancient times counted down from Passover to Shavuot (the period after liberation from slavery in Egypt in which Jews wandered through the wilderness until revelation at Mount Sinai) by giving offerings of barley, culminating in a wheat offering on Shavuot itself. (Was that run-on sentence long enough?) Now the counting of the omer (a unit of measure for the offerings) is observed through steps toward personal refinement to prepare oneself to spiritually receive the Torah on Shavuot, remembering the moment at Mount Sinai and recommitting to accepting the Torah for oneself.

I have been fortunate enough to belong to a temple that has offered many ways to observe the counting of the omer (which by all means is not observed by a majority of Reform Jews) in a way that is meaningful and relevant. This has included the rabbi working elements and themes into services and Torah study, as well as offering a four-part series on “Great Jewish Books” and a four-part series of meditation workshops. I have recently discovered that this is pretty unique to our synagogue and our rabbi, and that many, many congregations do not provide such opportunities for meaningful observance. Maybe this is because it is technically a “minor” holiday, or maybe it is because, as I recently read in an article in Tablet, modern American Jews struggle to find meaning in the holiday and are largely unobservant of it, and it is hard to continue offering something for which people are simply not showing up. But I also think that non-participation can be a self-fulfilling prophecy; it takes time, thoughtfulness, and energy on the part of the clergy to infuse all aspects of religious observance in this period with connections to Shavuot in order to get people engaged and invigorated. Once you do that, it is up to people to choose whether or not to engage and participate, and you certainly can’t force them to get excited and find meaning in it - but without at least the information and the opportunity, you would have no one! And that seems to be exactly what is happening in many places.

I feel so lucky that there have been plenty of opportunities within my synagogue to be observant of this very special holiday, opportunities to keep our brains engaged and to focus on our own spiritual development by challenging us to watch how we are living and make conscious efforts to refine much of that through the smallest of choices in how we behave. I even have an awesome “My Omer” app on my phone that has allowed me to check off each day and has given a meditative exercise based on the weekly themes.

This period culminated in a mini Tikkun Leil Shavuot last night. This is a study session that traditionally goes all through the night and provides continued and intensive opportunities to mentally and spiritually prepare for Shavuot. There are many places in Manhattan that offer all-night study sessions, which my old soul with my 10:30 bedtime would never be able to accomplish, as much as I’d love to. I was grateful for the opportunity to get a taste of it, and to do so with people I am becoming familiar with in my own temple. The first hour was led by our cantor, who taught a lesson on “eco-poetry,” which involved discussion and analysis of nature-themed poems by Israeli artists. The second hour was led by our rabbi, who taught from different texts about the Torah. I can definitely see the appeal of staying up all night having discussions like that. What an awesome way to bring in Shavuot! We ended with a sweet ritual in the sanctuary, in which we recommitted ourselves to the pursuit of Torah and each got to hold it. (So glad I got to practice that for my conversion or I would have been terrified! It went much more smoothly this time.)

This morning was the festival service, and I had asked permission to come to work late so I could attend. Let me preface this by saying I knew this holiday would hold more significance for me than is probably typical, compared to other more major and highly celebrated holidays. This is simply because it is soooo relevant to my recent – and current! – experience as a Jew-by-choice. The holiday commemorates what was basically a mass conversion, where each person chose for themselves to accept Torah and follow God through Jewish practices and teaching. And on top of that, there is a reading from the scroll of Ruth about her decision to follow her deceased husband’s faith and commit herself to God, Judaism, and the Jewish people even after his death, when she had the option – and was even encouraged – to return to her community of origin. I mean, how could this NOT be a major holiday for me? But I really didn’t expect to be as emotional as I was. As much as the Tikkun Leil Shavuot had fueled my brain and overall energy, this service fed my heart and soul in a way I could not have anticipated.

I became very and uncontrollably emotional at a totally unexpected moment, before the Torah or the story of Ruth were even read. It washed over me almost out of nowhere. Rabbi encouraged us to envision ourselves at the foot of Mt. Sinai (midrash says that every Jewish soul that ever was and ever will be was there accepting Torah) as we took a moment for our silent prayer and meditations. I sent up a very simple and brief prayer. All I thought was, “Thank you, God, for leading me here and allowing me the opportunity to accept Torah and Judaism.” After that it was all emotion. It overwhelmed me even as I finished those words, and I just started crying. I didn’t have sobbing breaths, but it was definitely more than damp eyes. Tears streamed down my face and I felt unexpectedly and undefinably overcome. In that instant, I felt like I had just come out of the mikvah again. I felt a similar sense of awe and humility, and probably an even more intense feeling of gratitude.

From that point on, it was over for me. Fresh tears came over me as the Torah was brought around, then again as Cantor chanted the Ten Commandments from the Torah, and yet again as I recited the most powerful and emotional “Sh’ma” of my life. The intensity of my emotions completely surprised me, but were also very welcome, and I didn’t feel self-conscious at all. I just felt a bit of effort to hold myself together and not let myself completely go, as I was definitely on the verge and easily could have gone into full weeping. How incredible to unexpectedly feel so emotional just days after I had finally started feeling myself even out!

I kind of wish I could make an addendum to my beit din, for when they asked what my favorite holiday was, my answer was something like, “They are all still so exciting and new that I don’t yet have a favorite. I love them all equally. But I’m sure that will change as I experience them a few more times, get more familiar with them, and make different personalized associations with each of them.” I'm pretty sure I have a clear favorite now!

This may not be true all my life. What I find personal and meaningful and emotional even ten or twenty years from now may be very different. My conversion may even be a distant memory amidst a busy, full emotional life in which I have come to take my Judaism for granted and am focused on and distracted by so many other things. How intense my joy and pride after high school graduation just twelve years ago, and yet I am barely nostalgic for it now. I know intellectually that it was a time of pure, unbridled ecstasy and excitement, but no photos can invoke that feeling in me again now. It already feels so much a part of my past. I’m hopeful that my descriptive journal entries will help me be able to re-experience all of this on an emotional level, as I do with things that happened as long ago as 2004 when I really began intensive journaling that was more about my emotional processes and less about chronicling events. But even so, it would take intentional reading to evoke those feelings again. I will have to work to provoke that nostalgia. It will not always be such a part of my everyday emotional makeup, and therefore Shavuot may not always hold such meaning for me.

Although even as I say that, I realize that it may still hold just as much meaning, even if the emotions aren’t as raw and fresh. It will likely never again feel the way it did a mere three weeks after my conversion, and for that I will be able to cherish my first Shavuot forever. But when this is all so normal and I’ve forgotten the intensity of it all and the emotions aren’t as powerfully overwhelming, may the celebration of Shavuot always serve as my reminder that I chose Judaism long before it became official, and will continue choosing it every day for the rest of my life.