These remarks were delivered at Mishkan’s 5785 Rosh Hashanah service. You can watch them on Mishkan’s YouTube channel or listen on Contact Chai podcast.
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At this time last year, and for the last four years, I sat in high holiday services trying my very best to feel gratitude for the blessings in my life as I performed my annual spiritual soul accounting. And then inevitably, we’d come to the Torah service and I’d watch people flood the bimah to celebrate the birth of their children, and I’d shrink back into my seat, my heart broken at other people’s happiness, and broken at my own pain for not being able to tolerate other people’s joy.
The High Holiday season can push us to feel subject to the whims of the world. Who shall live, and who shall die, we ask? Are we clay in a potter’s hand, ready to be shaped according to Divine will? What fate will be written and sealed for us? Over the last four years, I lost pretty much all of my perspective and believed there must be something fundamentally unworthy about me to deserve a child. Thanks to Rabbi Lizzi, Leah Whiteman, and the unending support of the Mishkan community, I retained enough of a tether to continue engaging with Judaism and with our community through my personal path to parenthood. After four years of IVF and IUIs, multiple miscarriages, a relentless amount of injections and surgical procedures, and seemingly unending cycles of pain, loss, and grief, my partner Hunter and I welcomed our beautiful son, Reuben Lev into the world this summer. And several weeks ago, I was honored to be asked to stand here, representing my beloved Mishkan community who, like me, celebrated important milestones this year.
Everything about this moment feels like a literal miracle to me, except for the fact that I am positive that some of us remain sitting in our seats, praying deeply for the blessing of children, and feeling painful feelings at witnessing the joy of someone else crossing over to the other side of this horrific struggle that ultimately guarantees nothing, no matter how much teshuvah or tzedakah or tfilah we do. I accepted Rabbi Steven’s invitation to have this aliyah on the condition that I could tell my story, and that I could name and acknowledge the folks in this holy space today who are aching for children and aching at my joy. I see you, and what you are enduring isn’t fair.
In honor of this aliyah, Hunter and I would like to extend an invitation to anyone in our community going through the IVF process, queer folks, those in a challenging journey to parenthood, or who have children in the NICU to reach out to us for support. We’ve been through it all. Amy Nadal and Rachel Mylan can connect us. We know what it means to beg god for the blessing of a child and to spend years feeling unanswered. We know what it means to witness people in our community celebrate their blessings year after year, and to feel horrified by our own jealousy. We know what it means to be told to “count our blessings” in years characterized by despair. We have been through so much, and we are here to listen and hold you in empathy if it feels right. As I stand here in this moment, holding a miracle in one hand, please know that I’m holding you in the other, and I’m praying for you to make it to the other side of this journey to parenthood with gentleness and self love. You aren’t alone.
Shana tovah.