She sits demurely alabaster skin, sleek hair black as obsidian, and a touch of scarlet on her lips. What is Snow White doing at Kever Rachel?
Upon further scrutiny, her raven black hair is not hair at all but a black woven scarf with fringe draping over her shoulders. She quietly murmurs verses of Tehillim. Her scarf blends with a black shawl of similar texture. Under her headscarf are two diamond earrings, beautiful, a testament to subtle and elegant taste.
As Snow White is praying, it seems as though the loving arms of G-d are embracing His daughter lovingly.
I sit on an adjacent bench, captivated by her holy countenance. Feelings of unworthiness weasel their way into my head. I mentally run and take refuge in my mantra, do not compare, do not compare! Comparisons are synonymous with poison and they will pull me down. Yet, my siddur remains untouched and ignored. Any attempts at davening are met with resistance.
While trying to daven, my scattered thoughts embark on a circuitous journey as I travel Around the World in Eighty Days. What a juxtaposition–me and Snow White. I further berate myself for my lack of piety and so it goes down the rabbit hole of self-reproach and shame.
Then, unexpectedly, I receive a celestial gift: an epiphany of immense proportions, my own personal splitting of the Red Sea. I begin to understand that Ms. Vision in Black serves her Maker one way and I serve Him in another way. Gone are the ungrateful comparisons. I am created in the image of G-d; my intrinsic self-worth is special and holy; rejecting myself is rejecting my Maker.
How can I serve my Maker in a way unique to me? Iโm like a horse with blinders that cut off her field of vision. Perhaps I have my own blinders and my vision is also thwarted. Where is that โsomethingโ that I can call my own expressive outlet?
How can I serve my Maker in a way unique to me? Iโm like a horse with blinders that cut off her field of vision. Perhaps I have my own blinders and my vision is also thwarted. Where is that โsomethingโ that I can call my own expressive outlet?
How fortunate I would be if prayer as the service of the heart would be more accessible to me. It is a precious gift to unite with HaShem with deep devekut (clinging to G-d) and hitbonenut (Jewish meditation). Especially during the Amidah service as we cry out Shema Koleinu, the quintessential plea for compassion and rachamim. Our hearts are enflamed as we are drawn close to the Almighty with chords of love. He is close to us, all we need to do is open up our hearts with prayer. It is within your close reach to follow the Torah in speech, feeling and deed.
โืื ืงืจืื ืืืื ืืืืจ ืืื ืืคืื ืืืืืื ืืขืฉืืชืโ
This service for many comes naturally, for others, it can be a deep struggle to concentrate and stay focused.
I have found that when there is an arousal from below as Jews come together in a farbrengen while singing deep stirring niggunim sparks an arousal from Above which enhances oneโs prayer.
Further, getting up very early in the morning, soon after dawn is an auspicious time to unite and embrace oneself with tefillah, as the distractions of the day are still in a state of slumber. Thus we read in Tehillim 46:6 โG-d is in the midst of her, she shall not be moved, shall help her at the approach of morning.โ
ืืืืื ืืงืจืื ืื-ืชืืื ืืขืืจื ืืืืื ืืคื ืืช ืืงืจ
For me, dance is also a form of prayer as I can dance my way to the Almighty, to a place of joy and profound meaning. My dance releases โfeel goodโ hormones and they do a commendable job of uplifting me to another plane of elation.
Movement and music, my own personal M&Mโs, enflame within me a deep spiritual connection with the Divine. If I could bottle up this โfeel good hormoneโ and sell it, a fortune would be made; With dance come positive feelings that chip away the stone of indifference and bitterness smothering my heart.
When those endorphins kick in, they ignite deep feelings of happiness, so much so, I find myself full of joyous crying like the tears of my โHoly Sisterโ. This experience is a soothing balm for the dilemmas and challenges in my life. My bottled-up emotions go free and soon I begin to feel deeply again.
With dance, I am able to mentally solve problems that eluded me hours before. There is clarity in what to do and what direction to take. Once, while dancing, I even wrote a letter in my mind to a particular person who I was at odds with. Somehow the words just flowed in ways that were sensitive without being offensive and possibly misinterpreted.
Lastly, when the class is over, a can-do confidence takes over. Any nagging doubts and anxieties, the nagging angst of Amalek, is replaced with an all-will-be-okay attitude.
Dance is my Tehillim, my personal prayer book. I am fortunate to have
it as Snow White has her own unique expression. We are both dancing with the same Partner–one with her lips and one with her body.
After my descent into comparisons and feelings of inadequacy, l was fortunate to make a personal ascent and find my own expression to connect to G-d through dance. Yet, how many of us suffer unnecessarily as we search for something or someone to call our own while eclipsing our special and unique talents
We all have our own snow whites, real or imagined, which we are tempted to idolize as an image steeped in holiness and purity. Yet, what do we really know about this image, this person whom we place on a pedestal in order to praise and worship? What do we know of them as real people? If we stay glued to them as objects of idolization that neither speak nor hear, we miss the opportunity to cultivate a genuine and more satisfying relationship with them.
Let each one of us banish our adoration of false illusions by taking these idols down from their pedestals and begin to see them as real people with their strengths and challenges. As a real person, rather than a fabrication of perfection, there is no need to compare, and only then can we begin to honor our individuality as a special gift from G-d.
All worshippers of graven images will be ashamed, Yea those who boast of idols; all gods prostrate yourselves before Him, Tehillim 97:7
ืึตืึนึคืฉืืึผโื ืืึผืึพืขึนึฌืึฐืึตื ืคึถึืกึถื ืึทืึดึผึฝืชึฐืึทืึฐืึดึฅืื ืึธึผืึฑืึดืืึดึืื ืึดืฉึฐืืชึทึผืึฒืืึผึพืึึืึน ืืึผืึพืึฑืึนืึดึฝืื
ืึตืึนึคืฉืืึผโื ืืึผืึพืขึนึฌืึฐืึตื ืคึถึืกึถื ืึทืึดึผึฝืชึฐืึทืึฐืึดึฅืื ืึธึผืึฑืึดืืึดึืื ืึดืฉึฐืืชึทึผืึฒืืึผึพืึึืึน ืืึผืึพืึฑืึนืึดึฝืื
Related articles
Chanuka and the Spiritual War of the Maccabees- Ima Shalom: When Womanhood Is Whole
- A Married Woman Taking On Her Husband’s Customs
- Guarding the Gates: Eyes and Heart
- Nechama Leibowitz: A Scholar in Her Own Right
- Michal: Rebuke Is Not Necessarily Negative
- Biblical Women and Music: A Love Story
- The Dance between Fear of Heaven and Human Effort
- Audio Classes
- Can a Woman Dance with a Sefer Torah?
More articles by Chana Schoenberg
Sorry, there are no other articles