LETTING GO FOR HESHVAN
“…. you don’t have to carry the weight of the world in your muscles and bones, let go, let go, let go …”
So we sing, from time to time, in this prayer-song by Aly Halpert.
It’s Heshvan, the Jewish no-holiday month, the only one of the year (with of course the exception of Shabbat and Rosh Hodesh, always occasions for joy and blessings). With the Tishrey month-full of set holy dates behind us for 5787, we may still be carrying some of the weight of the month.
That may relate to the third year since the Gregorian date October 7, 2023 etched itself into our consciousness. Here in Eastern Ontario and beyond, the Yom Kippur synagogue attack in Belleville brought scary echoes of other attacks around the world on that date.
Dates and anniversaries, commemorations and celebrations will continue to co-mingle through the cycle of the year. Yom Kippur also brings Yizkor, and those of us who lit candles at shul for our deceased loved ones may do so again on the Hebrew or English anniversaries of their death. Those dates, or times of year, may also be inscribed into our lives.
So on the one hand, Jewishly speaking, we don’t let go; we invite in the memories, allow ourselves more than once a year to inhabit memory, honouring and reflecting.
On the other hand, thinking of what we know about psychological and emotional well-being, dwelling perpetually in recollections of loss, or trauma, whether experienced witnessed, or passed on through legacy, can be debilitating and even immobilizing.
Rabbi Tirzah Firestone, author of Wounds Into Wisdom, wrote this following October 7, 2026:
“This Shabbat I will be holding all souls impacted by this day and the past 3 years in the light of my simple candles. May all whose lives have been cut short so violently be freed from the vortex of trauma, hate, and vengeance we have come to worship here on the earth plane. May they know and be embraced by a compassion and love that we have lost sight of here below.”
And while we can all now see, at a few weeks remove from this year’s events in Belleville, that a great(er) disaster was averted, we may well be feeling something like: well, the YOM [day] may be over, but what about the KIPPUR [connected to “lots” or fate]?
The beauty of our ritual practices is that they are both reliably enduring and creatively flexible. We can light candles at the set times, AND at times of choice and need, lighting our way to bringing more of the compassion and light we need. We can sing, on our own and together. Lifting our voices inevitably lifts the gloom, disrupts the isolating fear, connects us heart to heart, soul to soul.
May the openness of the month of Heshvan be filled with light and song for you and your dear ones, for our community, and for kol yoshvey tevel/all who dwell on earth.
Rabbi Liz
