TELL Magazine: October - November 2019

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Renewal Rosh Hashanah Tashlich at the Beach with Music and Meditation for the Jewish New Year 4:00pm 30th September Come hear the Shofar for the Jewish New Year. Near the ocean, we contemplate the deep meaning of the New Year accompanied by music, meditation and spiritual community. Facilitated by Rabbi Orna Triguboff and musicians Nadav Kahn, Emanuel Lieberfreund and Anna Friedman at one of the eastern beaches in Sydney Children are welcome. To find out the location please email orna@emanuel.org.au Cuddle Bundles supplies Mums and their new babies with gifts of gently-worn baby wear in excellent condition. All our bundles are packed with love, care and respect. We support all communities and cultures, both locally and overseas. HOW YOU CAN HELP • Let us know of any Mum or organisation who would welcome a gift from Cuddle Bundles. • Donate gently-worn, unstained baby goods in as new condition. Our main focus is on baby clothing for ages 0-6 months, blankets, wraps, small soft toys, feeding equipment and accessories. • Knit or crochet baby blankets, baby wear for our babies, or donate wool. • Sew gift bags for Cuddle Bundles. • If you are travelling to Israel or South Africa and would be happy to take a parcel of 5kg of more, it will be collected from your accommodation. • Drop off donations at Emanuel Synagogue CONTACT US Facebook.com/cuddlebundlesoz cuddlebundlesoz@gmail.com • Michele 0415 893 331 • Ella 0410 565 121 28
{HOME IS A STATE OF BEING} Donna Jacobs Sife Several years ago, between Yom Kippur and Sukkot, I traveled across New South Wales to Broken Hill, following the Darling River and camping beneath the moon. I learnt a little about the land, the history and the simple pleasures of being a wanderer. I learnt about Black Country and Red Desert. I marveled at the big skies, walked through strangely fragrant wildflowers, across cracked and thirsty earth, and mourned a plundered river. I heard of the sacrifice made by desperate men who made Australia prosper; how without the mines they would have starved and yet within them endured great sufferings and early death. I viewed remote caves with ancient aboriginal art, mysterious markings in code. I met black cockatoos, eye to eye, bright green parrots, emu tracks, and eagles doing their best to clear the gory animal remains of road carnage. A little history, a glimpse of country, a broadening of my sense of home. Whilst contemplating the endless red road, that disappeared into what seemed to be a distant island, shimmering in the heat, I remembered the opening words of the Seder night on passover - “My ancestor was a wandering Aramean”. Why are we reminded of this, year after year? We come from a tradition of nomadic life. The word itself comes from the word ‘pasture’. Abraham, Jacob, David – they all tended their flocks, traveling here and there to find the greenest pastures. Perhaps the first keeper of sheep was Abel. Cain was a settled farmer. Abel was the favourite of God, and yet Cain, who would build the first city, was promised dominion over him. A Midrashic verse, commenting on their quarrel, says that the sons of Adam inherited an equal division of the world: Cain the ownership of all land, Abel of all living creatures – whereupon Cain accused Abel of trespass. The names of the brothers are a matched pair of opposites. Abel comes from the Hebrew ‘hebel’, meaning ‘breath’ or ‘vapour’: anything that lives and moves and is transient. The root of Cain appears to be the verb ‘kanah’: to ‘acquire’, ‘get’, ‘own property’ and so ‘rule’ or ‘subjugate.’ The prophets Isaiah, Jeremiah, Amos and Hosea were nomadic revivalists who howled abuse at the decadence of civilization. By sinking roots in the land, by ‘laying house to house and field to field’, by turning the Temple into a sculpture garden, we had turned away from God. As wanderers, we owned only what we could carry with us, and had no need to acquire new things. As wanderers, we had no fear of invasion, nor had we any need to conquer. Our security lay with a benevolent God, who governed the rains and the sun. We would welcome strangers, knowing that they too could one day be welcoming us. We did not suffer the ills of a settled life, that of watching over possessions, competing with neighbours, fearing the loss of what we have, or holding on to and toiling over a piece of soil. In the seeming permanence of a home, we paradoxically create our own insecurities. And conversely, the nomadic life in its very temporariness IHEALING THE WORLD has the potential to offer permanent joy. I thought of these things, as I slept on a swag, with nothing around me but a cool breeze, a slow river, and the persistent call of a mopoke owl. As the nights passed, I watched the moon grow to perfect fullness, knowing that Sukkot was imminent. We are taught to be joyful during Sukkot. It is in fact a mitzvah, a commandment. We are told to move out of our homes, and take up residence, just for a while, in a temporary dwelling. Sleep beneath the stars. Be woken by the music of bird song. To invite our ancestors in, and be secure in the fact that we are a continuation of a people that is proud and honourable. On Sukkot, we remember that true security lies beyond that which we can acquire, beyond four solid walls, beyond that which we see. We remember that a piece of land can never be truly home, and securing it is illusion. Home is a state of being, and travels with us wherever we go. True joy lies in faith, detachment from worldly things, and in knowing where, how and why we belong. 29
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TELL Magazine: October - November 2019

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