Hagbah

Everyone probably knows by now that I am an incredibly dramatic person. It’s in my nature, a thing that can’t be helped. But I can honestly say that I had the most spiritual experience in the most unexpected place.

This past weekend, I went on a women’s retreat up in Malibu. It’s beautiful up at Camp Hess Kramer, about a quarter mile from the beach, with stunning green foliage and a babbling brook. I figured it would be a great time to reflect on all the insanity that’s been happening as of late: the insanity of tightening purse strings, the fear of what’s to come and the heartbreak of not being able to help yourself out of this mess.

It led me to Saturday morning services, where I sat pondering my life. I felt so helpless, although I did not want to be. I looked out the windows at the beautiful light that was emanating off the emerald plants and deep, dark earth. And my mind began to travel to where it has through almost every religious service I attended in the months since my last blood clot and layoff shortly after.

I questioned why I was doing everything I do, why I live a Jewish life. Why should I follow G-d’s words when he does not hear my cries? Everything was taken away from me, right down to my own ability to bear children. Does G-d not see the my and my husband’s suffering as I watch him fall further away with every day that he’s left to continue to be unemployed? Why should I fulfill my commitments to G-d when he hasn’t fulfilled his to me?

We eventually got to the Torah service, and were called up for aliyot. The women draped talitot over their shoulders and prayed, looking over as others read the portions from the ancient scroll, which talked about the journey to Mount Sinai. But then it was time for hagbah.

For those who don’t know, it’s the person who lifts the Torah after the portion has been read, and displays it for all to see -- and for the record, the Torah is not light. Traditionally, it’s a very strong man who does it.

“Who here has not done a hagbah?” the rabbi asked, her smile friendly and engaging. A few ladies raised their hands, myself included. I found out later that many girls who are bat mitzvahed in Long Beach are asked to do it for themselves. At my bat mitzvah in Thousand Oaks, my cousin Paul did it.

Sure enough, me being the young, very tall and very strong-looking person that I am (the broad shoulders I inherited from my father don’t help), I was called upon to do it. My mind went into shock. All I could think was that if I dropped it, these women would all have to do 40 days of fasting because of my sorry butt.

Lift from the knees, lift from the knees, I kept thinking. I wasn’t quite sure what else to think other than “Don’t drop it.”

I approached the Torah, it’s perfect text seeming to look back into my soul. I faced all these women, most of which who barely knew me, but saw me as a tall and broad-shouldered woman. Suddenly, the rabbi stepped forward, wrapping me in a prayer shawl.

“This was my first talit,” she said softly to me in my ear. “This is for your first hagbah.”

I saw the unbalanced sides of the scroll, wondering how it would balance in my hands. I was told to move it out a little first, and then lift. When I gripped, I wasn’t sure. My left hand felt the strong weight of what it was about to lift, but I was determined. I had to do this. It was time.

And then I lifted. My eyes seemed to pop open as I saw the living Torah before my eyes. My hands shook slightly, part of the amazement and the glory. I saw the text, the true text, in my vision, and I was awed. My mouth was open, as if I wanted to breathe in every moment, and yet was gasping for the glory in the air. I couldn’t quite describe it.

As I sat with the Torah, and watched as those around me were dressing it, I was in complete amazement. I had never done such a thing, and was now looking lovingly at this scroll with a smile on my face, the combined forces of joy and relief that I didn’t drop it. The woman who was dressing the torah, Heather, had never done that before either. She was also amazed at what she was doing, and began to cry.

After that moment, I rose, and I cradled this sacred book like a newborn baby, kissing it and loving it. I handed it off to Heather, who handed it off to the Rabbi. When we finished, Heath and I embraced, and suddenly, as if it were something more than rain, it began to pour hard outside. The rain hit the windows and the ground with such force that I only have heard several times in my life. Those times, from what I can remember, were moments that were darkness at one point, but then found a way to joy. Today, it almost sounded like applause.

I stared at this rain, not paying attention to anyone else, feeling a strength and power emanating from my hands. I felt something stir inside of me. Is it really possible that G-d has a way of communicating with us in the subtleness of nature? I don’t know if it was really a message for me (and even if it was, I wouldn’t even know if I got the message right), but I found strength. It was as if my spirit was saying to that inner voice of doubt to shut up about questioning my faith. I was stronger than that. To prove it, I just had lifted a Torah.

So this writing is for anyone who needs to find strength, who finds themselves doubting and questioning. I’m not telling you to go lift a Torah. But I am telling you that the answer to if you’re strong enough is inside, and all you need to do is prove it to yourself.

In honor of our weekend away at the camp, I bring forth the egg salad. This is reminiscent of Camp Ramah weekends, where they would serve us hard-boiled eggs every Saturday morning, and we'd all make our makeshift egg salads from the packets of mustard and mayo that they would leave us. Personally, I love dill with hard-boiled eggs.

EGG SALAD

6 hard boiled eggs

1/2 cup mayonnaise

2 cloves garlic

2 tablespoons lemon juice (or juice of ½ a lemon)

3 tablespoons fresh or dried dill

¼ cup dried chopped onion

1 tablespoon Dijon mustard

Hard boil the eggs and let them cool. If using fresh dill, chop it finely. Meanwhile, finely mince the garlic and add to the mayonnaise. Add lemon juice and dill. Set aside for about 30 minutes. (see Quick Tip)

Crack eggs and add to bowl. Smash them finely with a fork. Add the onion, mayonnaise mixture and mustard. Mix. If using fresh dill, you can garnish it with a sprig in order to look super-fancy.

Quick Tip: Believe it or not, in that simple mixing of mayonnaise, you created an aioli, or garlic mayonnaise. Feel free to use that as a dip or a topping on a burger.