Jewish Holidays

Adult Children, All Poems, Family, Holidays, Jewish Holidays, Memories, Mother Love, Regret, Shavuot, Stories

Shavuot

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It fills me with song.

To see a pair of Sketchers, size four.

Next to our sneakers on the floor.

Sign that Elias is here, a day or two.

While his mother davens in New City.

He, off from school for Shavuot.

Holiday when Moses received the Ten Commandments.

Marking my own confirmation, sixty years ago.

Right here at Adath Jeshurun, Elkins Park.

The first time reading a poem I composed.

To an entire congregation.

Feeling excitement, anticipation, vulnerability.

A rush, sharing thoughts with others.

Meditation on time, hope, truth, death, life.

Being acknowledged.

By friends, family, rabbi.

My daughter, one year short of cantorial degree, surprised.

When I told her I hold dear this holiday.

For she, at semester’s conclusion, ready to move past it to summer.

Until hired as guest chazan.

Preparing herself to chant.

For two lunar days.

In a blink, it became important to her, too.

This spring holiday, completion of the counting of the Omer.

Unexpected revelation between my daughter and me.

A story I wished I could tell my mother.

Along with appreciation for the party she made me.

At fifteen, after the Shavuot service.

Recognizing me.

Letting me know I belong.

To a larger cosmology.

Something I didn’t know then to thank her for.

Though she knew how to give.

So, I’ll scatter seeds of gratitude,

beseeching she’ll forgive.

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 12, 2024

Daven is the Yiddish word meaning to chant the Jewish liturgy or pray.

Chazan is a cantor in a synagogue.

The counting of the Omer is a period of 49 days from the second day of Passover until the first day of Shavuot. During this time, marriage festivities are prohibited.

All Poems, Art/Arts, For Children, Holidays, Jewish Holidays, Museums, Philadelphia, Pleasure, Trips and Places, Wisdom

Morning After the Second Seder

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It was morning, after the second Seder.

Ordinary excursion to the Franklin Institute.

A favorite museum of grandchildren.

For exhibits on electricity, biology, physics.

A planetarium’s view of the universe.

All with predictable participatory fun.

But not one of us expected the surprise in the special gallery.

The Art of the Brick.

By artist Nathan Sawaya.

New Yorker, whose love of legos bloomed into masterpieces.

Copies of well-known paintings, sculptures.

His own expressive works.

On love, growth, hope.

Collaboration with photographer, Dean West.

Crafting distinctive photos with landscapes and legos.

Even more than prolific production, Sawaya encourages.

Cradles creativity.

Tells you who he is.

His journey from attorney to artist.

Enjoins you to find, honor your unique path.

The visit, ordinary to extraordinary.

Sawaya surely has a goal.

To uplift us and inspire.

Nourish each and every soul.

Lynn Benjamin

April 26, 2024

 

26, 2024

Adult Children, All Poems, Emotions, Family, Grandchildren, Growth, Holidays, Jewish Holidays, People Traits, Wisdom, Worry

Worries Can Be Traps

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Worries can be traps.

Keeping us captive.

But, they can also transform.

Becoming wings to set us free.

Like happened to my daughter.

Ensnared by doubts.

Misgivings she couldn’t do a task.

Learn prayers for services she would lead.

While her mentor vacationed.

But, come the Sabbath, she soared.

Reaching notes higher than the ark.

Like a butterfly released from a chrysalis.

Heralding the Day of Rest.

The new Hebrew month, Adar.

Even bidding her son join her to conclude.

Duetting Ein Keloheinu.

From restraints to liberty.

Decision made in the mind.

Escaping unfair fetters.

Choosing not to be confined.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 14, 2024

 

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Holidays, Jewish Holidays, People Traits, Pets

Gray Day

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The day was gray.

Punctuated with images.

Rain starting at ten.

Exactly as predicted.

An old woman in the gym.

Pedaling as though she were a cycling marathoner.

I, talking by phone to each of four children.

Unusual same day event.

Whipping up a dozen latkes, lickety-split.

Homage to the persisting oil at the Temple.

But, most impressive, the great horned owl.

Captured by my brother-in-law.

Licensed falconer.

Trainer of native birds.

Now tutoring a yellow-eyed owl.

How do you befriend a wild predator?

Engender faith and trust?

Greg must have uncommon knack.

Feeding well, treating just.

 

Lynn Benjamin

December 16, 2023

 

All Poems, Animals/Insects, For Children, Holidays, Jewish Holidays, Seasons

The Fog Lifted

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The fog lifted on the second day of Chanukah.

Like a curtain.

Revealing squirrels at play.

Starlings, robins, crows.

Frolicking, flying from oak to maple.

A woodpecker hammering a tune.

A field of geese poking at grass.

A red fox zigzagging down a hill.

Noisy excitement bubbled up.

The giddiness of spring.

In the wrong season.

But the animals smelled something.

Something out of the ordinary.

The air was warming.

They felt it.

Even before my cousin.

Going to work in the garden.

Before my neighbor.

Rushing off for a walk.

Before I did.

Changing plans.

Heading to an arboretum.

They sensed an opportunity.

To savor, not to miss.

With all their carefree chirping,

frenetic frisking about,

they urged us grab the day.

Of that, there was no doubt.

 

Lynn Benjamin

December 15, 2023

Adult Children, All Poems, Family, Food, Holidays, Humor, Jewish Holidays

You Don’t Remember

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I know you don’t remember, started my daughter.

Probably not, I said. Remind me.

Well, last year, I asked you not to send me pears.

Here it comes, I thought.

A litany of complaints.

I’m the only one who eats them.

They’re gigantic.

I’ve now eaten three out of seven.

For breakfast and lunch.

They’re getting mushy.

I have to refrigerate them.

I hate cold fruit in the morning.

On it went.

Finally, if you have to send fruit, send grapefruits.

They last longer.

Believe it or not, we laughed.

Long and loud.

As she chanted this list

between recitation and prayer.

She cajoled repentance.

Bid me forswear sending pear.

 

Lynn Benjamin

December 14, 2023

 

All Poems, Holidays, Jewish Holidays, Trauma, Violence

Eight Chanukah Candles

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Eight chanukah candles.

Dripping their last.

White alternating with blue.

Israel’s flag.

Each waxy bead, a tear.

Weeping till snuffed, exhausted.

In shadows of sadness.

Swirling sorrows.

Massacres.

Captures.

Brutalities.

War.

Wrought by power hungry leaders.

On both sides.

Spewing fanaticism, greed, self-interest.

All nurturing illusions.

Instead of babies, children, people.

Chanukah is over.

Dreams for peace are not.

Tolerance and humanity.

What the world forgot.

 

Lynn Benjamin

December 14, 2023

 

 

 

All Poems, Art/Arts, Family, Holidays, In-laws, Jewish Holidays, Loss

Almost a Year

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It’s almost a year since my mother-in-law passed.

This, the first Chanukah without her.

Festival of Lights, her favorite.

Chanting prayers around the menorah.

Grandchildren by her side.

A familiar print on the wall.

Right in her dining room.

Now ours, on the landing.

As you ascend the stairs.

One of those things admired.

Never asked about.

Till now, too late.

Wishing you knew the back story.

When she bought it.

Where?

Why?

Portrait of eight indigenous children.

Circling a grand menorah.

Lit and glowing.

The artist’s signature, bottom right.

DeGrazia, Arizona.

Dated, 1980.

So, I googled him.

Found the number for DeGrazia Gallery in Tucson.

Talked to Lance, who identified the work.

Called Hanukah!

Pointing out the saguaro cactus at the bottom left.

Explaining the children from Papago tribes.

Overjoyed with a gift from Ethel

whose presence I could feel.

Come to share an anecdote.

Her way to reappear.

 

Lynn Benjamin

December 8, 2023

All Poems, Holidays, Hope, Jewish Holidays, Miracles, Trauma, Violence

Chanukah Slipped In

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Chanukah slipped in.

Almost unnoticed in the heavy gloom.

Weeks after the assault by Hamas.

On October 7th, Sukkot.

World Jewry desperate to free hostages.

Root out terrorism.

End darkness.

Melancholy, grief.

A thousand shadows lurking.

While each night adding another candle.

Remembering souls snuffed out too soon.

Praying for the marvel of the Maccabees.

Oil enough for one day, kindling eight.

Though miracles be legends,

they seed needs for hope.

For light to fill a vengeful world,

enmity revoke.

 

Lynn Benjamin

December 8, 2023

 

 

Adult Children, All Poems, Career, Family, Holidays, Jewish Holidays

On the Way to Becoming a Cantor

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Someone thinks I’m a cantor, texted Roseanne.

Sending a snapshot of an envelope.

Bearing the name Cantor Roseanne on it.

After she arrived at the Temple in Connecticut.

To sing Kol Nidre.

Then, the service for Yom Kippur.

The following day and evening.

Imagine the shock of being called Cantor.

When only three years of study completed.

In a five-year program.

When you view yourself as congregant.

Not spiritual leader.

But this note meant something.

The path must lead somewhere.

It’s not a forever cycle in classrooms.

The appointment, a mutual honor.

A community folding her under their wing.

She beseeching God on their behalf.

Meeting the challenge.

Being offered a title.

Before ordination.

Like going for a fitting.

To be measured.

Getting the go-ahead to complete the outfit.

A chance to test the role.

For a synagogue in need.

Take on duties of a cantor.

Then, with confidence, proceed.

 

Lynn Benjamin

September 29, 2023

 

Kol  Nidre is the prayer in the service on the eve of Yom Kippur in which congregants are released from vows, they cannot keep, which they made to God.

Yom Kippur is the Jewish Day of Atonement. It is a day of fasting and prayer.