Recipes for a Sacred Life: True Stories and a Few Miracles by Rivvy Neshama (top rated books of all time .TXT) 📗

On Rosh Hashanah, the iron gates in front of the temple were locked. There were armed, unsmiling policemen on guard, and they asked me in German for my ID, since another synagogue in Austria had recently been bombed. It felt strange and chilling. For a moment, I felt like other Jews must have felt facing Nazis.

But once inside the temple, I began to feel at home. The small congregation seemed happy to have one more congregant, and the Hebrew prayers we sang were the same ones I sang as a child—the same prayers chanted by Jews all over the world for thousands of years—and some even had the same tunes. I also noted that while most people there were friendly, a few seemed . . . cold and aloof.

Later, I hiked up the town’s small mountain and smiled back at the Austrians descending, who greeted me with a hearty “Guten morgen!” There were two I remember still.

One was a lost Austrian or German tourist, who held out a map and asked me questions in German. “I speak English, only English,” I said, amazed that he thought this dark-eyed Jewess was one of them.

The other was a handsome, white-haired man, who looked a little older than I. When we passed each other on the trail, he smiled and stopped to talk. He was a Salzburger, he told me in perfect English, and for a few minutes we walked side by side, enjoying each other and the sun-kissed day. I liked him. I sensed his goodness, and he felt familiar.

When I reached the top of the mountain, I sat on the grass, looked down at this beautiful city, and was grateful to see its citizens as people, simply people, human and real. Then I did my rites of forgiveness. And on that Rosh Hashanah in Salzburg, I came to a place of peace.

RITES OF FORGIVENESS

The rites I did on that mountaintop in Salzburg were the same ones I do each Rosh Hashanah in Boulder, the ones I learned decades ago from Shakti Gawain.

Shakti’s many books include Creative Visualization, in which she teaches ways to transform our lives and ourselves. One exercise she suggests that I never forgot deals with forgiveness: forgiving others and forgiving yourself. I’ve changed and adapted it over the years, but this recipe comes from Shakti. It’s a powerful exercise that can be very healing. When I’m done, I feel lighter and often find myself crying. You can do it any time you want or need. I do it once a year, on Rosh Hashanah.

Before I start, I find a quiet, sheltered place where I won’t be disturbed by people or phones. If it’s a nice day, I like to hike up the foothills, sit under a tree, and begin.

FORGIVING OTHERS

Write down the names of anyone, living or dead, who hurt you or whom you’re angry with. Next to each name, jot down briefly what he or she did or what you’re angry about. (Sometimes I skip the writing and just start with step 2.)

Close your eyes, relax, and visualize each person you’re angry with, one at a time. Imagine yourself telling them why you feel angry or hurt, but adding that you now want to forgive them and clear up your relationship. See how they respond and what they say. Then, if and when you feel ready, look into their eyes and say something like, “I forgive you and bless you. Be happy and go your way.” Repeat this process with each person on your list.

When no more people come to mind, write down or say, “I forgive you and release you all.” Then you can tear up the paper and throw it away.

It might be hard to forgive some people the first time you do this. But if you continue to do the exercise now and again, things should eventually feel resolved. It helps to remember that this ritual is for your own well-being. Still, it might help heal the other people too.

FORGIVING YOURSELF

The same exercise serves to ask for forgiveness. This time you write down (or picture) all the people you have hurt or would like to ask forgiveness from. Then, with your eyes closed, visualize yourself asking each person, one at a time, for forgiveness, hearing what they say, and receiving their blessing and release. When you feel the process is complete, you can affirm “I forgive myself, now and forever,” tear up the paper, and throw it away.

True, forever is a long time. But you can do these rites as often as you need.

Part Five

FRIENDS AND NEIGHBORS,

LOVERS AND STRANGERS

The more I learn about our world,

I sense a kindness at its core.

And it seems that all species

instinctively know

how to take care of each other.

DO YOU GIVE TO THE ONES

WHO ARE DRUNK?

My son, Tony, who lives in Manhattan, keeps some change in his pocket when he goes out walking. That way, he has something to give to the people he passes who ask him for help.

“Do you give to the ones who are drunk, who may use it to buy more beer?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s not for me to judge them or how they’ll use it. You give from compassion to people in need.”

So now, when I remember, I keep change in my pocket too. It helps me look forward to outstretched hands that I sometimes used to resent.

In Judaism, giving to the needy is considered by some sages to be the most important commandment of all. It’s called tzedakah—which often translates as “charity” but truly means “righteousness.” It’s simply doing what is right and just.

Maimonides, a medieval rabbi and philosopher, writes that there are eight levels of tzedakah, and one of the highest is to “give to the poor without knowing to whom one gives and without the recipient knowing from whom he received.”

But something special happens when you’re face-to-face on the street. It’s a chance