What We'll Miss
In this page, congregants will share what they will miss by not being able to gather in person on Middle Street. If you like to submit photo and/or essay, please send them HERE.
In this page, congregants will share what they will miss by not being able to gather in person on Middle Street. If you like to submit photo and/or essay, please send them HERE.
DIASPORA ON CAPE ANN or EXILE ON MIDDLE STREET
By Brent Davison
We have been in a Diaspora for the last six months from our beloved Temple Ahavat Achim. IT IS OUR EXILE! Not caused by enemies, but in this case, caused by a soulless virus. The Destroyer! It is an experience that we share with our fellow congregants, and with all Jews who can no longer join together, especially around these High Holidays.
We miss praying together as a group. We miss seeing our friends. We miss the hugs and kisses. We miss the apples and honey. We feel broken within our community, and empty, from being disconnected from the people and activities we became used to.
Yes there is sadness and despair. And yes, there is a loss of what we once had individually and as a community that was unique and meaningful as members of TAA…a small, caring community that has survived over 50 years, even through a devastating fire.
The Rabbis before us were also in despair. In their Diaspora, they faced the loss of the primary religious structures of Judaism as practiced before the destruction of the Temples. They responded by writing Talmud, developed Rabbinical teachings which eventually enhanced and reorganized the spiritual, religious and communal practices of the Jewish people while in incredibly challenging times.
Here on Cape Ann, we can likewise turn our localized exile into a blessing in disguise as our ancestors did before us. And in fact we are doing so right now. Continue reading HERE.
By Brent Davison
We have been in a Diaspora for the last six months from our beloved Temple Ahavat Achim. IT IS OUR EXILE! Not caused by enemies, but in this case, caused by a soulless virus. The Destroyer! It is an experience that we share with our fellow congregants, and with all Jews who can no longer join together, especially around these High Holidays.
We miss praying together as a group. We miss seeing our friends. We miss the hugs and kisses. We miss the apples and honey. We feel broken within our community, and empty, from being disconnected from the people and activities we became used to.
Yes there is sadness and despair. And yes, there is a loss of what we once had individually and as a community that was unique and meaningful as members of TAA…a small, caring community that has survived over 50 years, even through a devastating fire.
The Rabbis before us were also in despair. In their Diaspora, they faced the loss of the primary religious structures of Judaism as practiced before the destruction of the Temples. They responded by writing Talmud, developed Rabbinical teachings which eventually enhanced and reorganized the spiritual, religious and communal practices of the Jewish people while in incredibly challenging times.
Here on Cape Ann, we can likewise turn our localized exile into a blessing in disguise as our ancestors did before us. And in fact we are doing so right now. Continue reading HERE.
Dale Rosen, member of TAA since 1990 and former president offers:
I was sitting at my desk on a ZOOM meeting discussing the schedule for our virtual Rosh Hashana service when a vision flashed before my eyes. I saw myself walking up to the front doors of TAA and I was just about to reach for the handle when a voice inside said: “NO, we will not be praying together in the sanctuary this year.” A wave of immense sadness overcame me. I returned to listening to the meeting in progress, but the shock and sadness stayed with me.
I was surprised by my reaction. I had been part of the High Holiday planning team and had known that we would not being in the sanctuary in person for several months. So why was it hitting me now?
That image of not being able to go inside, of being barred from my home during the High Holy Days, tapped into a deep loneliness brought on by the pandemic and the closing down of our society. I realized for the first time what I will miss this year. So, I wrote the following piece to express my profound sense of loss. I suspect some or many of you may be or will be feeling a similar sadness as we prepare for our virtual High Holy Days. We have set up this special section on the HH website for members to share their feelings of loss, their memories from past years and hopes for the future.
What I will miss most this year on the High Holy Days
As I sit trapped behind my screen. I will miss the sound of voices singing that carry me along in their wake. I will miss seeing the faces of generations of families who sit together often the same pew every year. I will miss feeling the hushed, communal awe of standing before the court on Kol Nidre and the urgency of our prayers as they rise up as the gates close.
There is something so lonely about ZOOM, the disembodied heads staring out. It’s nothing like the sea of bodies we swim in when we arrive at temple on the first day of Rosh Hashana. What I will miss most is being part of our community, standing all together as one before God and praying for forgiveness. It is the power of hearing that communal crying out that I will miss the most in all this silence.
And I ask myself, will the cries of our soul be heard when we pray and confess our sins on separate screens? Can the miracle of our return to God and our redemption that we are promised be fulfilled in exile?
And I choose to believe that our prayers will be heard on high and that we are not alone. I comfort myself with the rich memories of past years when we gathered together in the old temple and our current one. These images and your faces will sustain me as we pray for one another and for our world to be restored and redeemed.
Next year on Middle Street!
I was sitting at my desk on a ZOOM meeting discussing the schedule for our virtual Rosh Hashana service when a vision flashed before my eyes. I saw myself walking up to the front doors of TAA and I was just about to reach for the handle when a voice inside said: “NO, we will not be praying together in the sanctuary this year.” A wave of immense sadness overcame me. I returned to listening to the meeting in progress, but the shock and sadness stayed with me.
I was surprised by my reaction. I had been part of the High Holiday planning team and had known that we would not being in the sanctuary in person for several months. So why was it hitting me now?
That image of not being able to go inside, of being barred from my home during the High Holy Days, tapped into a deep loneliness brought on by the pandemic and the closing down of our society. I realized for the first time what I will miss this year. So, I wrote the following piece to express my profound sense of loss. I suspect some or many of you may be or will be feeling a similar sadness as we prepare for our virtual High Holy Days. We have set up this special section on the HH website for members to share their feelings of loss, their memories from past years and hopes for the future.
What I will miss most this year on the High Holy Days
As I sit trapped behind my screen. I will miss the sound of voices singing that carry me along in their wake. I will miss seeing the faces of generations of families who sit together often the same pew every year. I will miss feeling the hushed, communal awe of standing before the court on Kol Nidre and the urgency of our prayers as they rise up as the gates close.
There is something so lonely about ZOOM, the disembodied heads staring out. It’s nothing like the sea of bodies we swim in when we arrive at temple on the first day of Rosh Hashana. What I will miss most is being part of our community, standing all together as one before God and praying for forgiveness. It is the power of hearing that communal crying out that I will miss the most in all this silence.
And I ask myself, will the cries of our soul be heard when we pray and confess our sins on separate screens? Can the miracle of our return to God and our redemption that we are promised be fulfilled in exile?
And I choose to believe that our prayers will be heard on high and that we are not alone. I comfort myself with the rich memories of past years when we gathered together in the old temple and our current one. These images and your faces will sustain me as we pray for one another and for our world to be restored and redeemed.
Next year on Middle Street!