Earth Etudes for Elul

Elul comes around every year, reminding us to spend a month taking stock of our lives in order to be truly ready for meaningful internal change during the Yamim Noraim, the Days of Awe, such a holy and powerful time in the Jewish cycle of the year.

So here come the Earth Etudes for Elul to aid us on our journey through the month. Each of the Etudes connects in some way to the Earth and to teshuvah — change, return, repentance — reminding us that we are in deep connection with all that surrounds us. We are part of an intertwined whole that is so much greater than ourselves and so incredibly diverse and rich and amazing; we are never alone.

As you journey through the month of Elul, may this year’s Earth Etudes for Elul provide you with new insights, strengthen you, and suggest to you new ways to be in relationship to yourself, your loved ones, the living Earth, and the Holy One of Blessing. We are delighted that Earth Etudes for Elul continues, despite Rabbi Katy retiring. Congregation Beth El of the Sudbury River Valley has taken over and is doing the bulk of the work in bringing the Etudes to life this year. Thank you Beth El! And thank you Arielle for your appreciation of and work on this beloved project. Earth Etudes for Elul will be published on Congregation Beth El’s website. You can subscribe to the blog to get daily Earth Etudes in your inbox. We are working in collaboration with Jewish Climate Action Network – MA, Limitless Judaism, and The BTS Center which will post selected Etudes each week. Publishing will begin on Elul 1/August 25. If you’d like to share the Etudes on your organization’s website or social media, email earthetudes@gmail.com.

Chodesh tov – may you have a good month!

Rabbi Katy Z. Allen – Founder of Earth Etudes for Elul
Arielle Sabot – Beth El’s Outdoor Program Director

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17 Elul: Healing Together

September 10, 2025We cannot become whole until we heal the damage that we have inflicted on God’s creation which includes both the Earth and the creatures that are an integral part of the natural world. And we will not experience the healing benefits of the natural world until we have made this tikkun. The sanctity of animals is exemplified by the story of Judah HaNasi: For thirteen years, Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi, the redactor of the Mishnah, suffered from terrible pain. The Talmud (Baba Metziah 85a) traces his suffering to the following incident: A calf was once led to slaughter. Sensing what was about to take place, the animal fled to Rabbi Yehudah. It hung its head on the corner of his garment and wept. The rabbi told the calf, “Go! You were created for this purpose.” It was decreed in Heaven: Since Rabbi Yehudah failed to show compassion to the calf, the rabbi should suffer from afflictions. Rabbi Yehudah was only healed many years later, when he convinced his maidservant not to harm small rodents she discovered in the house. Why was Judah HaNasi made to suffer in this way for his dismissal of the calf? Rav Abraham Kook, the first Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi of British Mandatory Palestine states: “It demonstrates an overall moral deficiency in our humanity when we are unable to maintain the proper and lofty emotion — to taking the life of a living creature for our needs and pleasures.” Animals were not created to be slaughtered or to serve our appetite. So many animals have been, and continue to be, harmed by factory farming, neglect, and abuse. We are currently involved in a project in Israel whereby trauma is treated with Animal Assisted Psychotherapy (AAP). Animals are not “used” to help humans. The people we are working with practice the reciprocal approach whereby humans and animals help each other to heal from trauma. We call it “Healing Together.” We were inspired by Steve’s experience with his cousin Larry who was born blind, facing immense physical and emotional challenges. By his late 50s, he had lost his motivation to get out of bed. Nothing seemed to help—until his cousin Steve brought his dog, Emma. The change was immediate. Over the next two years, Larry went from feeling hopeless to celebrating his adult Bar Mitzvah just before his 60th birthday. His deep bond with Emma played a key role in his emotional and physical recovery, showing firsthand the incredible healing power of animals. This experience opened Steve’s eyes to the profound impact animal companionship can have on human well-being, inspiring a mission to bring this healing to others. A link to the short documentary about Larry can be found here: https://vimeo.com/214075528 As we enter the month of Elul, let us endeavor to recognize the sanctity of the Earth as well as of the animals that inhabit it with us. Rabbi Suzanne Singer Co-Executive Director, Rayor Center/Breeyah Rabbi Suzanne Singer lives in California. As the daughter of a Holocaust survivor, she is keenly aware of the need to make our world a better place. In her capacity as a rabbi, she has served several congregations and has been engaged for over 20 years in social justice work. She has also served on a variety of non-profit boards and has led advocacy efforts through local interfaith organizations. Before becoming a rabbi, she was a television producer and programming executive in news and public affairs as well as children’s programming. In that capacity, she won two national Emmy awards. Cantor Steven Puzarne Executive Director, Rayor Center/Breeyah Cantor Steven Puzarne is the Founder of Breeyah, a not-for-profit organization whose mission is to respond creatively to the changing needs of the Jewish community, including providing holistic, spiritually based care to special needs children and adults and their families. After the October 7th attack, Cantor Puzarne established Breeyah’s Israeli branch, The Rayor Family Center for Loving Kindness of which Healing Together is the first major project. In addition, through the Rayor Center, Cantor Puzarne manages the “smitten with kitten” initiative, striving to significantly reduce the number and the suffering of stray cats within Israel/Palestine. [...] Read more...

16 Elul: HEAT

September 9, 2025HEAT (a prose tanka) We modern humans, we Homo sapiens, evolved from our primitive ancestors during the Ice Age. With our increasing brain power we created clothing, built shelters, and learned to control fire, all to stay warm in a cold climate. Our bodies evolved to larger stockier shapes that minimize heat loss. Metabolic changes that conserve heat developed. Despite our archaic origins in the warm climates of Africa, we are better adapted to extreme cold. We are not adapted to extreme heat. Heat is upon us lungs reject the hot moist air legs can barely move we are exiled from Eden and there will be no return Hear this shofar call heat storms floods overwhelm us despair will not help we know what needs to be done now we must turn to the task Lois Rosenthal is retired from a career in academia (Chemistry) in California. She also taught Hebrew School and tutored B’nai Mitzvah for a decade. She is a member of Temple Beth Israel in Waltham. Lois is also a member of the MA State Poetry Society / local CREW Poets branch and lives in Winthrop, where temperatures have been running 5o above Boston’s, and legendary sea breezes are nowhere to be found. [...] Read more...

15 Elul: אֱמֶת מֵאֶרֶץ תִּצְמָח וְצֶ֗דֶק מִשָּׁמַיִם נִשְׁקָף

September 8, 2025אֱמֶת מֵאֶרֶץ תִּצְמָח וְצֶ֗דֶק מִשָּׁמַיִם נִשְׁקָף When Truth sprouts from the earth then Justice looks down from the heavens (Psalm 85:12) truth sprouts from the earth be quiet and still listen for her preparing to poke through the soil wait for her keep listening do not pretend that you already know her how can you know that which you have not yet seen? Photo: An artist’s prayer on the Palestinian side of the separation barrier, Bethlehem Rabbi Malkah Binah Klein is founder of Merkava: Transformation and Healing through Creative Ritual. She is a member of Sisters Waging Peace, a Philadelphia chapter of the Sisterhood of Salaam Shalom. Her website is thrivingspirit.org. [...] Read more...

14 Elul: Rising Again

September 7, 2025This summer, I haven’t been able to spend as much time as I’m used to spending at my family’s lake house on Cape Cod. After weeks away at conferences, I could feel the siren song of the lake drawing me for miles ahead of my arrival. When I arrived, though, I found my beloved place had changed, and it was a bit disorienting. We are drawn to return, to head back to the familiar. Especially at this time of the year, we Jews are tasked with doing teshuvah, repenting or returning. I learned recently about the lifecycle of salmon. They hatch upstream, swim downstream and out to the ocean, where they live most of their lives. Then, when they have matured — when they’ve grown old and look craggy and hook-nosed — they swim back upstream to their birthplaces to spawn. Shortly after spawning, they die, their bodies dissolving into nourishment for the environment. For salmon returning from the ocean, this business of swimming upstream is no small feat; they are swimming up waterfalls, battling the pull of gravity and defying the odds of becoming dinner for bears, eagles and other wildlife. A friend from the Pacific Northwest described with a smile her family’s tradition: they love to stand by waterfalls, cheering on the salmon as they make their valiant upward leaps, rising again and again. And the fish are returning right during Elul! I marvel that these fish are compelled to complete their cycle of returning to the very place where they hatched, there to spawn the next generation. My friend described another interesting Pacific Northwest phenomenon. For some time after Mount Saint Helens erupted in 1980, the surrounding landscape was barren and gray; in pictures it looks like the surface of the moon. After a while, vegetation began to regrow and the rivers began to flow again— but now, the rivers were flowing along completely different courses. I’m thinking of those fish, searching for the places where they had hatched, desperate to get back home to repeat their lifecycle, to be fertile and multiply. Against all odds, they were rising again, determined in their returning. We human beings also want to return. We yearn for old familiar places and old and better parts of ourselves— but like those salmon, we may find that the places we are returning to no longer look familiar. Like the salmon, we too may have changed, sometimes beyond recognition. We all know the old saw, “change is the one constant.” One of the tasks of being human is meeting change and trying to accept it. We acknowledge a new normal, ever-new in each moment, and we respond with as much grace as we can, despite the disorienting newness we encounter. It is in figuring out how to move forward, how to respond and find equilibrium despite the changes, that we determine the quality of our lives. Like the salmon, may we rise again. Rabbi Judy Kummer is a board certified chaplain in private practice, offering in-person and remote skilled spiritual care visits, eldercare programing and lifecycle events. She has served as Executive Director of the Jewish Chaplaincy Council of MA and other nonprofits, and has served congregations in DC, NY and NJ. She is happiest outdoors hiking in the woods, swimming in a lake at sunset or tending to her Boston organic garden. [...] Read more...

13 Elul: The Muck

September 6, 2025Deep down, the return, where the Mississippi flows so close to the sea. A great, miraculous journey. A turning. A deep cleansing breath in the water, here where there is an abandoned oil rig. Where journals were kept, money was made and the earth was extracted from. Where humans lived their lives. What do we turn to when only the river and the metal structures are left? Return to the earth on the floor of the water. A tree project. Regenerate. Growth. Renewal. Land will catch here. We rode with gasoline to swim. There is no perfection in humanity, yet Elul begs us to consider. What is your ground beneath the river? Rabbinic Student Shosh Madick lives in Bulbancha, colonized name New Orleans, in a meaningful Jewish community and with great admiration for the Mississippi river. [...] Read more...

12 Elul: Homage to Red Cedar and Black Locust

September 5, 2025A Rabbit. A Rat. A Guinea Pig. Crushed. Drowned. Botched Surgery. Each gathered. Buried. Welcomed by Cedar and Locust. Brilliant green drapes the sky Aerial silk for acrobatic Crow. Stellar Jay. Sturdy trapeze for leaping Squirrels. Curvaceous limbs extend a wide berth for Raccoon Mama. Kits. Child. Seed cones dangle generously Banquet for Black-capped Chickadee. Nuthatch. Bushtit. Sparrow. Robin. Flicker. Golden Crowned Kinglet. Songs of feasting, delight and gratitude. Downy woodpecker descending ascending furrowed ladder to the heavens. Long creamy white earrings sway in the breeze whispering invitation to Hummingbird. Full hearted-presence. Rest now. Here. Mere human. Watching. Witnessing. Humming love to my Friends. The hard line is drawn. Death is imminent. Questioning. Fighting. Raging. Weeping. Weeping. Weeping. Sheryl J. Shapiro seeks to deepen her presence as a companion on healing journeys, explore and share the depths of her Judaic roots, whispers from nature, and the complex beauty of Community. Sheryl loves integrating spiritual, creative and embodied expression. This journey has included facilitator training programs in Sacred Hebrew Chant with Rabbi Shefa Gold, the Educator’s Leadership and Prayer Project Intensives with the Institute for Jewish Spirituality and in experiential environmental education. Sheryl practices 5 Rhythms Dance/Open Floor movement, chanting, meditation, yoga and qigong. Her poetry appears online at Ritualwell (2021, 2022, 2023) and Salish Magazine (2022), in print in Peregrine (2024), Like a Tree by Water: Poems, Prayers and Rituals, an Anthology by Advot members (2023), We’Moon Datebook (2020, 2022), Dirt? Exhibit and Catalogue, University of Puget Sound (2015) and Poetry on the Buses, Writing Home Collection, King County Metro (2014). Sheryl lives on Duwamish/Coast Salish land (aka Seattle, WA) and was born and raised on Lenape land (aka Brooklyn, New York). [...] Read more...

11 Elul: Sand is a rock…

September 4, 2025Sand is rock that is ground more finely than gravel, found on beaches and in deserts. A dune is a sand hill or sand ridge formed by the wind, usually in desert regions or near lakes and oceans. A dune can be completely void of “life” that we can see… or can be home to quite visible plants and critters. Am I the sand or the dune? Did I begin as a rock (with apologies to Simon and Garfunkel)? How was I ground down to leave my singularity and join with others? How were we blown together to form a place of community? How supportive will our community be? Will we be void of life… or welcome and protect those who venture to join us? Enid C. Lader is Rabbi Emerita at Beth Israel – The West Temple in Cleveland, Ohio, and is the visiting rabbi at Kendal at Oberlin. Enid and her husband, Harry, enjoy the blessings of their grown children and grandchildren – and traveling. [...] Read more...

10 Elul: The earth is crying

September 3, 2025The Earth is crying fretful as a newborn, she wails of hunger, of soiled limbs, and I hear her as I toss and turn at night. She demands my attention by day, each one hotter than the last, skin of dirt and lips both cracking with what we’ve cooked up, we careless caregivers. I blink and it’s yontif and the year’s turning too as in humble gratitude, in unworthy shamefaced plea, I fall to my knees and fall on my face and my body returns to the earth, so that cradled by dirt in the new year’s birth, I too may rise with life on my lips. Cantor Vera Broekhuysen has served Congregation Beth El of the Sudbury River Valley as its cantor since 2023. She experiences the outdoors as a formative source and nurturer of her Jewish spirituality (having had her first adult conversation with God looking at Wild Goose Island in East Glacier, Montana). Cantor Vera was ordained from Hebrew College in 2016. You can learn more about Cantor Vera, including her original writings and music, at verabroekhuysen.com [...] Read more...

9 Elul: Rare and Precious

September 2, 2025trees are rare and precious, none seen elsewhere in the known universe our predecessors slinked out of the water to make new life on land I shed 10 sextillion atoms with every breath then they become you we are all fish, after all the boundaries between living things, a mirage how could we forget we were formed from dirt? how could we forget to steward the land as if she is not an extension of our bodies as if harm to other life does not poison us all? think so small you see we are all made of the same stuff think so big you see we are smaller than dust until all we can do is be in our bodies, feel the earth beneath our tired feet, care for her as she does us until our rivers run clear and the air smells sweet Return to the knowledge that we are all One Lauren Fine (she/her) lives in Durham, North Carolina and works remotely as the Alumni Manager at Avodah. In her free time, she can be found building radical Jewish community, staring at trees, baking, collaging, and thinking about the universe. [...] Read more...

8 Elul: Teshuvah Through Stewardship

September 1, 2025We are almost born into the idea that we “own” things. As infants or toddlers, beware of competing for possession of our blankies or stuffed animals! Growing older comes with more extensive possessions, clothing, electronics, collectibles. Adulthood enables us to add to what we “own,” cars, homes, property, businesses, and investments. Living seems at times coextensive with accumulation. Written large, countries act with the same attitude, carving out inviolable lands and even claiming dominion over adjacent bodies of water. We live in a culture which legitimizes possessions. Regrettably, we can trash what we feel we own. Owning is not forbidden by our tradition. Abraham painstakingly purchases a plot in Canaan to bury Sarah. Our people are promised a land of our own. Yet a powerful idea challenges the right to ownership, and sacred practice relentlessly reminds us of our limits. Rosh Hashanah celebrates the creation of this world. The Creator is God. One of the less familiar Names of God is “Koneh”, the “Possessor.” God is praised in the first blessing of every Shmoneh Esray as “Koneh hakol,” “Possessor of all.” As Creator, God owns this Earth and its inhabitants and never relinquishes possession. Shabbat is the gem of sacred days, and at its center is the command that we let go of every gesture of ownership on that day. Anyone who serves us and any working animal must rest. The prohibition of work proscribes every act indicative of ownership. Every seven days, we simply are at peace with the world around us, without the power to change anything for better or for worse. Temporarily we surrender the mantle of ownership before God. The Torah does not stop there. The concept of the Sabbatical Year and Jubilee, respectively every seven or every fifty years, goes farther. For an entire year, the farmer gives up one’s power over one’s own land by not cultivating. In antiquity, slaves were freed and debts cancelled, more signs of ownership or mastery. In the Jubilee year, parcels of land bought and sold were returned to the original distribution among the tribes of Israel. Every sign of ownership was suspended. These practices are notable especially because they applied to the promised land. The Torah is not shy about explaining these demanding commandments: וְהָאָ֗רֶץ לֹ֤א תִמָּכֵר֙ לִצְמִתֻ֔ת כִּי־לִ֖י הָאָ֑רֶץ כִּֽי־גֵרִ֧ים וְתוֹשָׁבִ֛ים אַתֶּ֖ם עִמָּדִֽי׃ The land must not be sold beyond reclaim, for the land is Mine; you are but strangers resident with Me. (Leviticus 25:23) We do not act as owners because, in the deepest sense, the land belongs to God. Even in our own land, we are considered גֵרִ֧ים וְתוֹשָׁבִ֛ים, resident strangers. If we are not owners, what are we then? Perhaps we are at our best when we see ourselves as stewards entrusted with the well-being of this Earth. Ancient legislation could not be more relevant than at this moment when this Earth is so imperiled. Teshuvah this year calls us to embrace stewardship. Shelly Lewis is rabbi emeritus of Congregation Kol Emeth in Palo Alto, CA. He is the author of How Precious the Ground on Which We Stand: Jewish Values that Could Save the Earth and Torah of Reconciliation. [...] Read more...

7 Elul: How Do You Repent?

August 31, 2025Pollution is Colonialism by Max Liboiron confines its scope to plastic pollution, but much of what it says is applicable to other forms of pollution. It is also informative about how to approach teshuva. Liboiron (Red River Metis) runs the Civic Laboratory for Environmental Action Research (CLEAR) at Memorial University in Newfoundland. The lab is described as “a feminist, anti-colonial laboratory, which means methods foreground values of humility, equity, and good land relations.” The subject of what they study is marine plastic pollution, specifically that which affects local, indigenous foodways. While Liboiron explains aspects of pollution science, they would probably agree that the book leans more into colonialism than pollution—but since pollution as we know it would not be possible without colonialism, so much the better. The concept of Land relations—and yes, with a capital L—should be grasped by anyone who studied grade school science and learned about ecosystems and the web of life. What we do where we live affects the other entities in that space as well as the space itself, and we are affected by the actions of other beings as well. Presumption of superiority is arrogance, and Liboiron is clear that it’s the position of a colonizer, though not one with a specific origin point. It divides Land into human beings, animals, a geographic area with borders, specific trees, waterways, and other geographic features, foodways, customs, etc. This opens the door for land to degrade into first a source of resources, then finally a sink for pollution. Importantly, the modern model of pollution validates geographic features as a pollution sink—contamination is tolerable until it reaches a certain threshold. It also implicitly validates the industrial activity that causes pollution. Teshuva, as I understand it, allows us to repent for our sins, but it also demands that we are honest about the nature of those sins. In the case of our relationship to our environment/ecosystem/land/Land, we need to acknowledge that our sin is our arrogance. It includes our habits and presumptions—Liboiron outlines the choices and compromises CLEAR makes to achieve their mission of doing anti-colonial science; discovery isn’t enough of a reason to contaminate anyone’s Land with poisonous chemicals—but leaning into personal purity, or as Liboiron calls it, settler innocence, is another form of arrogance that will do nothing to repair our relationship with our Land (and everything that constitutes it). As they put it, when the scale of pollution is such that we find microplastics in organs, including placentas and brains, the scale we need to approach the issue is the same as the one that created it—industrial, and by extension, regulatory. We are in a large system—one that encompasses many different Lands—and in order to make change we need to act at scale. Thanks for ditching the straw, driving an EV, and installing a heat pump—now go do something that matters, and make yourself known to your legislators. Deb Nam-Krane is a writer, parent, spouse, climate organizer, and human rights enthusiast. You can find her in Boston proper, usually wandering around green spaces. [...] Read more...

6 Elul: Grounding Ourselves In Nature

August 30, 2025At AJR’s fall retreat, I attended sessions with Rabbi Bronwen Mullin, and she shared the concept of “grounding,” which means having contact with the earth–dirt and grass–against our bare skin. It makes sense. Thirty-five years ago, as a nursing mother, I was told to hold my son against my breast with his skin touching mine to help with bonding and a sense of security. We humans came from the ground; it’s no accident that the Hebrew word for human is adam, and the Hebrew word for earth or ground is adamah. Bereshit 2:7 reads: וַיִּ֩יצֶר֩ יְהֹוָ֨ה אֱלֹהִ֜ים אֶת־הָֽאָדָ֗ם עָפָר֙ מִן־הָ֣אֲדָמָ֔ה וַיִּפַּ֥ח בְּאַפָּ֖יו נִשְׁמַ֣ת חַיִּ֑ים וַיְהִ֥י הָֽאָדָ֖ם לְנֶ֥פֶשׁ חַיָּֽה׃ “Adonai our God formed the Human from the loose dirt of the earth, blowing into his nostrils the breath of life: the Human became a living being.” Remember being a kid and running around the grass barefoot, especially in the summer? If you grew up in a city full of concrete, you may not have had that opportunity. Somewhere along the line, in our Western world, grass and dirt became synonymous with germs and schmootz, things we definitely didn’t want to be ingesting, at least on purpose. As conscientious parents, we sterilized everything we gave our babies and toddlers, and then turned around to watch them eat a bug or the mud pie they just created. And they lived to tell the story. We know there’s something healing about connecting with the earth. Every year I look forward to spring and warm weather to get out in my modest garden and play in the dirt. I don’t always remember to put gardening gloves on, and that’s ok. Just the idea of digging, of putting a seed in the soil to watch it (hopefully) grow, wondering if I’m growing expensive bunny and squirrel food, and what I’ll get to actually eat from my garden. And the garden has its own ideas. Groundcherries and tomatoes reseed themselves every year, and next to the compost bin are as-yet-unidentified squash plants and a slew of tomato seedlings. It’s a testament to what happens when we let nature take its course. I decided to spend a few minutes a day on the grass with bare feet, and it feels wonderful. Rebbe Nachman of Breslov was a great believer in spending time in nature, and his prayer begins, “Grant me the ability to be alone; may it be my custom to go outdoors each day among the trees and grass – among all growing things and there may I be alone, and enter into prayer, to talk with the One to whom I belong.” (AJWS on Sefaria.org) May we be blessed to stay connected to the ground, and to be physically grounded while our souls soar. — Rabbi Susan Elkodsi received rabbinic ordination from the Academy for Jewish Religion (AJR) in May of 2015 and has been spiritual leader of the Malverne Jewish Center since August of 2015. Additionally, she provides pastoral and rabbinic services to local rehab and assisted living facilities. Her writing has appeared on JewishSacredAging.com, and she has presented workshops for Limmud, NY, for AJR and in the community, on ethical wills and spiritual legacies. In 2019 Rabbi Elkodsi received a Rabbinic Certificate in Gerontology and Palliative Care from the Wurzweiler School of Social work at Yeshiva University, and takes advantage of their continuing education programs relating to aging and end-of-life issues. She is passionate about helping Baby Boomers and older adults to find meaning and purpose in their lives within the context of Jewish tradition and teachings, and as part of a Jewish community, however they see themselves. A knitter and weaver who loves to spin her own yarn, her essay about “Spinning, Knitting and Judaism” was published in The Knit Vibe by Vickie Howell in 2019. She and her husband David have two adult children. [...] Read more...

5 Elul: The Stones of the Sacred: An Earth Etude for Elul

August 29, 2025אבני קדש מאת הרב לואיס פוליסון נכתב לאחר ביקור במרכז ריטריטים ע׳׳ש איזבלה פרידמן, קונטיקט, ארצות ילידיים של שבטי סקאטיקוק ומוהיקן י״ט–כ״א בְּאָב תשפ״ה תִּשְׁתַּפֵּכְנָה אַבְנֵי־קֹדֶשׁ בראש כל לב אבני קודש הם גם יכולים להיות יסודות מתקנים וממתיקים את שבירת הכלים שברית הלב אין משהו יותר שלם סימנים מגלים את הואר הגנוז לצדיקים כי עד צדק אַרְצִי–אֱלֹהִי ישוב משפט אנושי בת־עמי לאכזר כי עיניהם מקנאות במדבר הארץ מתי יהיה זמן לאדמה לבני האדם עת לטעת עת לרפוא עת לבנות עת לעבוד עת לשמור עת לאהב עת שלום עת כּנוס אבני קדש אֵיכָה אַיֶּכָּה The Stones of the Sacred Written after a visit to the Isabella Freedman Retreat Center, Falls Village, Connecticut, native lands of the Schaghticoke and Mohican tribes August 13-14, 2025 The stones of the Sacred are spilled At the head of every heart Sacred stones Can also be foundations Repairing and sweetening The shattering of the vessels The breaking of the heart Nothing more whole Signs Revealing the light hidden For the righteous For human judgment will return to earthly-divine righteousness But my poor people have turned cruel For their eyes are jealous In the wilderness of the land When will there be time For the earth For the children of the earthling A time for planting A time for healing A time for building A time for serving A time for guarding A time for loving A time for peace A time for gathering Sacred stones How Where are you Louis Polisson is a musician and rabbi, ordained by the Jewish Theological Seminary in 2018, where he also earned an MA in Jewish Thought focusing on Kabbalah and Ḥasidut. He currently serves as the Associate Rabbi and Music Director at Congregation Beth Sholom in Teaneck, New Jersey. He previously served for five years as the Rabbi of Congregation Or Atid in Wayland, Massachusetts. Louis and his wife Gabriella Feingold released an album of original Jewish and nature-based spiritual folk music in November 2018 – listen at https://louisandgabriella.bandcamp.com/music. [...] Read more...

4 Elul: Turn to the Soil, Turn to the Soil Again, for Everything is in It

August 28, 2025I have loved writing these etudes over the years. I just looked back and saw my first one was in 2013. That makes this my b’mitzvah year. So I’m going back to that first post, reviewing and renewing. At that time, I was growing a food forest in the Chicago suburbs; now, I am creating one in North Carolina. Then, there were grapevines, artichokes (yes! In Chicagoland), multiple beds of veggies, herbs, berries, and fruit trees, including a peach tree. Now we have deer fences – sad but necessary – and three huge cedar raised beds just built – cardboarded and mulched – awaiting soil. We have our first fruit trees: nectarine, fig and pomegranate. The one lovely connection to the old house is the peach tree; a volunteer I potted and brought with me from the Chicago suburbs when I moved here in 2018, which we finally put into Mama earth’s loving hands last fall. She is so happy to be in the ground, and even gave peaches this year. The earth turns. As we do, in teshuvah. Much stays the same, yet much changes. I am saddened and horrified this year at events in Israel and Gaza, saddened and horrified at events here in our country. And yet when I go to the earth, I know that renewal is possible. How much will it take for us to return to Mother Earth’s teachings? To remember that giving is receiving, that nourishment is in the soil – it literally feeds us – that harmony is everywhere, that we are interconnected beings, one with another, and one with the planet? This is my teshuvah – reminding myself that all wholeness is right here, right now. And anytime I need a reminder, all I need to do is step outside and smell the leaves, the grasses, the wood. And then I dip my hands in the soil. I know that I am one. I know from whence I came, and with what I am completely intertwined. Rabbi Robin Damsky (she/her) runs Limitless Judaism, a project of Body-Spirit-Gaia, exploring the interconnectedness of personal well-being, spiritual practice and planetary well-being. Her work includes publications, spiritual direction, in person and online courses in meditation, song, art, movement, spiritual exploration, and planting and tending our planet. Sign up for her Elul course, Touching the Beloved Within. Inst & FB: @limitlessjudaism [...] Read more...

3 Elul: Earth Etude for Elul

August 27, 2025I live on the prairie. Not a desert. And yet I have spent the summer thinking about water. I live on a lake. Ok, it’s a retaining pond. It’s beautiful. We watch all kinds of birds: herons, egrets, sandhill cranes, ducks, and too many geese. Our little lake has shrunk. Part of it is so dry that it looks like pictures of the Dust Bowl. The bottom of the lake is completely dry and cracked. There’s a rock beach where there should be water. While there are seasonal fluctuations, this isn’t normal and is the result of climate change. Yes, I dare say it. We can pray. I’m reminded of the story of Honi, the Circle Drawer. In the Talmud, there was a time of drought. Honi was asked to pray. Honi drew a circle in the dust, stood inside it and told G-d that he wouldn’t move until it rained. A drizzle fell. The people demanded he pray again. This time, Honi’s prayer was answered by overflowing cisterns and ditches and caves. Too much rain. Honi prayed again within his circle. This time he was rewarded with a calm, gentle rain, relieving the drought. (Ta’anit 19a and Ta’anit 23a) It’s the original Goldilocks story, too little, too much, then finally just right. Psalm 93 says, “The rivers may rise and rage, the waters may pound and pulsate, the floods may swirl and storm, yet above the crash of the sea and its mighty breakers is Adonai our G-d supreme.” We pause to remember those threatened by natural disasters. For me, another thought emerges. Is G-d really above all, supreme? The second paragraph of the V’ahavta, taken from Deuteronomy 11:13-21, says that if we follow G-d’s commandments/mitzvot, G-d will give us rain in its proper season. Really? Didn’t G-d promise to never destroy the world again with water after The Flood, you know, the one with Noah? Don’t we have some responsibility here as denizens of earth, as partners with G-d? After watching the devastation in North Carolina last summer, the fires in California and Canada, and the heartbreak in Texas this summer, I can’t put that on G-d. Why would some be killed and others spared? I demand prayers. Praying is what I do. But I demand action, too. I want early warning systems. I want people to use less water. I want water jugs left for people struggling in the desert, whether they are hiking for pleasure or crossing our southern border. I want people to plant native gardens. Then I remembered a quote I often use during the High Holy Days: “Like water, teshuvah is both destructive and creative. It dissolves the person you were but simultaneously provides the moisture you need to grow anew. It erodes the hard edges of your willfulness but also refreshens your spirit. It can turn the tallest barriers of moral blindness into rubble while it also gently nourishes the hidden seeds of hope buried deep in your soul. Teshuvah, like water, has the power both to wash away past sin and to shower you with the blessing of a new future, if only you trust it and allow yourself to be carried along in its current.” Dr. Louis Newman Let’s go into this High Holy Day season helping to find the right balance between rain and sun. Then maybe, just maybe a rainbow will appear. Rabbi Margaret Frisch Klein is the rabbi of Congregation Kneseth Israel. She comes from a family of ecologists and has been taking care of the earth since at least fourth grade. She would hike with her ecologist father in northern Michigan and now with her husband in some 37 states. She blogs as the Energizer Rabbi and is the author of 3 books. The most recent is Trip Notes: Love for the Journey. Rabbi Margaret Frisch Klein Congregation Kneseth Israel [...] Read more...

2 Elul: Sage in Elul

August 26, 2025Sage in Elul I learned to make sage tea from a friend whose hands know land- how to gather what grows between stones, how to dry leaves with care, how to boil water without hurry. He said: Add the sage during the boil. Add sugar. Add more sugar, if the day’s been cruel. And wait. Let it steep. Let it speak. Then came warmth- like sitting beside someone who doesn’t ask for words, only presence. This is how we come back to each other: in soil under fingernails, in meals shared, in sitting by the fire long enough to hear what the land is still holding. Teshuvah is not just return- it is repair. It is planting again where we once uprooted. It is asking the sage what it remembers, and listening. When we drink it together, we remember: we were never meant to heal alone. Stephanie Gray (they/them) is a scholar, grassroots organizer, and ritualist based on Quapaw, Osage, and Caddo land in Central Arkansas. They are the spiritual leader of Taste of Olam Haba, a pluralistic Jewish congregation in Little Rock. Stephanie Gray Taste of Olam Haba [...] Read more...

1 Elul: The Trees of Our Ancestors

August 25, 2025The Trees of Our Ancestors The ancestors of our ancestors knew to set their tents in sacred groves of teaching trees, to draw near to the tree of weeping and the tree of judgment, to hold tightly to the tree of life. They knew that before new growth can occur, there is a falling-away. Seeds scatter, trunks crack. Rooting requires time and space and uprooting can happen in an instant. They understood that trees are windphones, their branches reaching to the heavens their leaves drifting messengers to the earth. Our ancestors taught that we humans are trees of the field, each life ripening into becoming, our potential to grow in wisdom and resilience as we turn and return to what the ancestors of our ancestors knew. Rabbi Janet Madden, PhD is a writer, spiritual director, ritualist and teacher of Torah. An herbalist, handquilter and ordained animal chaplain, she lives in gratitude with her spouse, dog, cat and flock of backyard chickens. Rabbi Janet Madden PhD [...] Read more...