I’m going to start this episode by playing one of my favorite movie scenes of all time.
In case that scene doesn’t ring a bell, it’s from the movie Groundhog Day, starring Bill Murray. In the movie–this is not a spoiler–Murray’s character, a weatherman, becomes magically trapped in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania on February 2 and relives the day over and over. The movie actually includes 38 versions of his waking up to the radio playing Sonny and Cher’s “I’ve got you, babe” and the local radio announcers doing the the exact same kibbitzing routine (though evidently the speculation is that he actually lives through more than 12,000 versions of the day—thank you for the info, Internet).
The reason we’re opening with this wake-up scene from Groundhog Day is that this is the first episode of a mini-series devoted to daily rituals. Over the next six weeks, we’re going to talk about those things we do all the time between getting out of bed in the morning until we return to it at night, including going to the bathroom, getting dressed, eating, leaving and arriving at different places. But it all starts with waking up.
Now, I don’t know about you, but I think for most people, how we wake up in the morning isn’t something we’ve really thought all that much about. If the research out there is any indication, the two things we can agree on are that the vast majority of us 1) require some kind of alarm to wake up, and 2) don’t feel rested enough when they finally stop hitting the snooze button. That suggests to me that waking up is a chore. It’s not something we look forward to, it’s something we wish we didn’t have to do.
Now, there are structural reasons for that. Folks may have to work too much. (Guilty.) They may be struggling to juggle all the responsibilities they have. (Guilty.) They may also be making some choices that aren’t helping, like keeping their phones near bed. (Not guilty myself—yay?.) And, using screens late into the night, which reduces the effectiveness of sleep. (Oy. Very guilty.) Lots of things. So waking up is, of course, tied to going to sleep. And in a few weeks we’ll talk about Jewish going-to-bed rituals, which I hope can help.
But today we’re focusing on getting out of bed, and grounding ourselves so that we set up our day in a healthy, supportive, positive way.
As random as it sounds, this a very Jewish thing to do. Rabbi Shmuel bar Nachmani, one of the ancient rabbis of the Talmud, said that the essence of our morning prayer is to say, “I thank you, Eternal One, my God and God of my ancestors, that you led me from darkness to light.” And those first words, thank you, have become an established custom in Jewish practice for centuries. While the formulation has changed a little bit, the idea hasn’t. Today, if you look in a Jewish daily prayer book, the first thing you’ll see is a prayer for waking up in the morning: Modeh ani l’fanecha, melekh chai v’kayam, shehechezarta bi nishmati b’chemla, rabah emunatecha. “Thank you, source of life, for returning my soul to me—you are amazingly trustworthy.”
We’ll get into a practice to help do that in a minute. But I want to linger on this a little longer, because I think it’s so important. The very first word a Jew is expected to say in the morning is what? Thank you. We start our day with gratitude. And the truth is, that might even be the essence of Judaism, right there. Because you know where we get the word Jew from? Jew is from “Yehudi,” a member of the tribe of Yehuda, or Judah, one of the twelve sons of Jacob in the Bible. And it’s worth remembering the story of his name.
Jacob, you may remember, was a young man working for his uncle, Laban. He was in love with Laban’s daughter, Rachel (yes, they were cousins—which was pretty standard in the culture then). But Laban insisted that before Jacob could marry Rachel, he had to marry her older sister, Leah. So he did. (Yes, bigamy—also okay then—and yes, marrying siblings, which was not yet technically outlawed but was already highly problematic, as we’ll see in a moment.)
Leah is blessed with children, and in their names we can hear that she is desperate to be loved by her husband. She names the first Reuben, hopeful that Jacob will see her. She names the second Shimon, hopeful that he’ll hear her. She names the third Levi, hopeful that he’ll become attached to her. Clearly these things aren’t happening—Jacob only really has eyes for Rachel (see notes about bigamy above).
But when her fourth child is born, she names him Judah, Yehudah. And listen to what she says about his name, because it’s really different: “This time I’m simply going to odeh, be thankful, that I’ve been blessed with this wonderful child.”
Now I don’t want to claim some sort of predictive power: it’s not just the name that makes Judah different than his older brothers. But while Reuben, Shimon, and Levi are, in one way or another, kind of messed up as adults, Judah becomes one of the best adults in the entire Bible: someone who takes responsibility for himself and others. He ultimately becomes the leader of his extended family, and it’s from his name that we get the word Jew.
So when we wake up in the morning and, with our very first words, say Modeh ani, I am thankful, what we’re doing is grounding into the deepest roots of Jewishness. To be a Jew is, in essence, to be grateful—for the gift of this new day, for this new opportunity to live and make a home for the Divine in the world. We try not to start with, “Oh man, I have to get up again,” but instead with, “Oh man, I get to get up again!” And if you’ve seen “Groundhog Day,” that’s basically the lesson that Bill Murray has to learn in order to escape his 12,000 days of monotony.
If you already have a waking up practice, great. But if you don’t, or if you’d like to try something different, here’s something simple.
When you become aware that you’re awake, try not to open your eyes for a moment.
Try to allow yourself to be aware of the sensation of waking up. It’s a pretty magical moment, that time when we’re just shaking off the slumber, when we’re conscious that our awareness is reactivated. Delight in that for a minute.
Notice your mind, your body, your heartbeat. Notice the sensations of warmth under the covers, of breath entering your nostrils and your lungs. Appreciate how extraordinary these things are—breathing, warmth, your heartbeat. It could have been otherwise. These are gifts.
Notice any sounds you might hear. Birds. Raindrops. Cars passing by. People bustling about. Again, gifts.
And, with appreciation for these gifts, say “Thank you.” Modeh ani for men, Modah ani for women, Odeh ani if you’re looking for a gender-neutral term. I am so grateful for this gift—of this moment, of this day, of this opportunity to be alive.
We’re not trying to paper over the bad parts of the world, the ways it needs to be repaired. We will get to all that work. But in order to do that well, we first need to ground in gratitude. That’s what this practice does—and, I think, it’s the essence of Jewish life. What a gift to be grateful for.
Blessings for the journey. Know that I’m on it with you.
