There are moments – hours, days, weeks, and even months, when you begin to question your actions, intentions, and beliefs. These moments may be fleeting or harangue in your mind for long periods of time. Then, there are those moments which are supportive of your thoughts. The kind of moments you tuck away when your soul needs a boost.
One of those special moments arrived on Sunday during a family learning program being conducted at a synagogue’s Talmud Torah. Our theme was t’fillot (prayer); recognizing the how – why – where of t’fillah. One family included a mom from the Ukraine who spoke little English and was deaf. Her communication was primarily through her two children whose English is good and sign is better.
Teaching V’ahavta as the action step of loving God is always a fun lesson. It enables opportunities to share tangible actions, symbols, tools, and memories. As we were reading the prayer in Hebrew and English, the question to our families was, “What is the WHY of this prayer?” Among the myriad of responses there was this one mother, sitting in the outer circle of chairs, who began to sign heart.
My eyes were fixed on her face. Raised hands, voices, and cluttered noise disappeared. In that brief moment in time, there was a graceful and peaceful understanding that filled our hearts. It was dayeinu – it would have been enough.
The program concluded and it was one of those experiences you want to remember – it all went as planned! Families were enjoying their snacks and as I was wrapping my laptop cords and cleaning up, the same mom and kids were standing in front of me. The mom began to sign, and the daughter was translating: “Do you have to replace your mezuzah scroll every seven years? I was told it needed to be replaced?”
Interesting question. Checking to ensure the scroll is in good condition and Kosher is appropriate. Every seven years? Luckily a second question came forward about how to hang the mezuzah. After that, “Does a rabbi or cantor have to hang the mezuzah?” We were now in the midst of a full conversation with English and sign moving quickly.
“Which door do you place it on?” “Is there a blessing when the mezuzah is hung?” A second class was beginning without knowing. A little digging uncovered this family had moved from Ukraine to New York and now living here. They had a mezuzah but never put it up after leaving NYC.
The Q and A was over; there was one last question – “Is it safe?”
“Is it safe?” After forty years of religious school teaching this was a first. I understood immediately what was being asked. There was an outpouring of thoughts racing in my head. Prejudice, anti-Semitism, bullying, history, stories heard from grandparents as a child, lessons taught to students over decades. Hundreds of moments in time sharing stories of battling for religious freedom or escaping to a new land and a better life.
My eyes moved away from my translator. The question was well understood. It was now my turn to want to ask question after question. “Is it safe?” stirred my imagination and attempt to learn everything about this family’s backstory.
A little bit of American sign language had been learned over the years. My hands signed “Understand” and “Yes.”
My dialogue partner responded with the sign for heart.
Our eyes and hands spoke the kevah of this program. Our eyes and hands experienced the kavanah of the program.
Dayeinu.
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