A lot goes into making it possible for this podcast series to reach your ears. An astonishing amount, really, when I stop to think about it. There are people—like our producer, Rivky, and our audio editor, Rob Pera—who spend time going over the scripts and the recordings and making sure everything comes together beautifully. There are other people who work at our organizations and make it possible for us to do our jobs. There are the technology systems, like the computers and software we use to write and record; the speakers and earbuds that enable the sound to make it to you; and the amazing data networks that allow Rivky to be in New York and me to be in Chicago and Rob to be in California.
And yes, I spend a good deal of time writing the show each week. You might think hosting this podcast is a full-time job (okay, you probably don’t think that), but it’s actually a small but important part of my work as president & CEO at the Institute for Jewish Spirituality. In that position, one of my major responsibilities is talking to people about our organization (and, often, asking them for money/inviting them to support us). And, given that the words Jewish Spirituality aren’t ones most people use every day, I’m often asked, “What, exactly do you mean by spirituality?”
The dictionary defines spirituality as “the quality or fact of being spiritual.” Not super helpful. A definition I like more comes from my friend Dr. Lisa Miller, a leading authority on the neuroscience of spirituality in kids and teens. Lisa defines spirituality this way: “Spirituality is an inner sense of living relationship to a higher power (God, nature, spirit, universe, the creator, or whatever your word is for the ultimate loving, guiding life-force).”
I think this is a great definition, and I find it resonates with a lot of people. But: It’s also a little long when you’ve got a few minutes with someone and are going to ask them for a lot of money to support your nonprofit. So, after a lot of trial and error, I’ve come up with my own bumper sticker definition of spirituality, which is this: Spirituality is our ability to feel deeply at home in the universe.
Think about it in your own life for a minute. What do you associate with spirituality, or with being spiritual? In scientific studies, a lot of people say things like connection with nature, family, loved ones; experiences of awe; being in a community. When people talk about experiencing spiritual moments in solitude, it’s usually because being alone in that instance led them to feel more deeply connected—to the world, to others, and to themselves.
To me, the word that sums up that feeling of connection is home. The place or places I feel at home and the places you feel at home probably aren’t the same places. I think of the house I grew up in, in Ann Arbor, Michigan, and of the home I live in now. But home isn’t just about a particular place. It can also be an experience. Wherever my family is feels like home to me, even if we’re on vacation. I feel at home when I’m listening to music I’ve known all my life, or when I’m reciting kiddush on Friday night during Shabbat dinner, or when I’m meditating. In all of these places and experiences, I feel a deep sense of connection, a sense of being held and safe enough to be myself. I imagine you have your own list.
I believe the thing that enables you and me to feel deeply at home is our innate spirituality. It’s a huge part of what makes us human. When we feel truly at home, we are more at ease, we can be ourselves, we don’t feel like we have to pretend. Being at home in the universe allows us to experience a sense of connection and flow. When we aren’t at home, it’s the opposite: More blocked, more stressful, more anxious.
This idea of being at home is central to Judaism. The Torah describes our spiritual task as making a home for God in the world. The Hasidic masters understood that making that home for God comes about through making a home for ourselves and one another—making a home for humans, the images of God. If we can enable ourselves and others to experience that deep sense of at-homeness, then the Divine will also be at home; if we don’t, then we experience exile, and so does God.
You can find this dynamic all over the Torah and Jewish ritual, but it’s especially pronounced during the holiday of Sukkot, which begins five days after Yom Kippur. According to the Rabbis of the Talmud, the whole point of Sukkot is to leave our regular homes, enter the sukkah—a temporary home—and make that temporary home into our permanent home for the week. What a mind game! Or you might think of it as a retreat, a spiritual reset. During Sukkot, we have the opportunity to ask ourselves, “When and where am I truly, deeply at home in the universe? And how can I experience that more often, so I can show up as the wise, loving, compassionate human being I want to be?”
Here’s a practice to help you do that. You can really do it anywhere, but if you can do it sitting in a sukkah, all the better.
Wherever you are, try to sit a little more upright than usual. Try to be awake and aware.
You can soften your gaze or close your eyes. If you’re carrying tension anywhere, try to bring some tenderness there: your jaw, your shoulders, around your eyes.
Take several good deep breaths. Try to relax a little more with each exhalation.
And now, see if you can bring your awareness to the breath as it enters your nostrils. Maybe it feels cool coming in. Notice it coming into your body, traveling into your lungs. And then notice as you begin to exhale through the mouth, returning the air to the plant world where it came from. In every breath, we are so deeply interconnected. See if you can sense that a little more.
Perhaps you notice that the air comes in through the walls of your real or imagined sukkah. Those walls are real–but they’re also not real. The air, the breath, our interconnection: it extends into the sukkah and outside of it. Into the neighborhood, into the landscape, into the world.
As you breathe, you are connected to me and to everyone else who is listening, everyone else who’s alive right now. We are all part of this web of interconnection, this unity, this oneness.
And you and I and all of us–we’re all welcome. We all belong. We’re all at home. Because this is our home. Right here. Right now. Fully present. We’re at home in the world—connected, breathing the same breath, held in the same loving Divine embrace.
When you’re ready, open your eyes if they’ve been closed and have a look around. I hope you feel a little more connected, a little more at home, a little more like you’re exercising this incredible gift you have of spirituality.
Chag sameach, my warmest wishes for a joyful holiday of Sukkot. And blessings for the journey. Know that I’m on it with you.