Pesach All Over Again

Wednesday marked Pesach Sheni or Second Passover. It was established by G-d for those who were not able to bring the Passover offering at the proper time due to ritual impurity. One month after Pesach there was a second chance for those who missed it the first time. From this origin story the day has become known by some as a day of second chances. That's what I decided to use it for this year.

I tried on Tuesday evening to get to shul in time for the evening minyan but the joy of rush hour Hampton Roads traffic made a 20 minute trip take 45 minutes and I missed it. I decided I would be there for the next morning's minyan.

It had been a long time since I had sat in morning minyan. You may remember from my previous post that I had not been to shul since the Sunday after parsha va'eira 2009. If my calculations are correct, that would have been January 25, 2009. The twins would have been almost five and my college freshman daughter would have been ten. Losing all of that time hit me hard when I made the realization of how long it had been. So many lost chances to share my faith with them as they grew up. So many lost chances to get them involved in synagogue life. To make the idea of not going to shul every week as alien to them as going at all is to them now. I wept. Every realization like this leaves me feeling horrible about myself. It piles on top of the growing mound of feeling that I've done yet one more thing to screw up my kids' lives.

Oddly enough, I was like a kid trying to go to bed on Christmas Eve. I tossed and turned all night, my anxiety levels were through the roof and it didn't help that I had missed my stomach medication for the past two days so the acid reflux was in full effect. Finally I got up at 4:30 AM and started reading. I reviewed a few videos on wrapping tefillin, because even though I've been wrapping every morning since my new pair arrived, and I have already spent several evenings and Sundays reading blogs and books and watching videos on the right way to wrap, I was still anxious about doing it in public and possibly getting it wrong.

I showered early and left with more than ample time to spare. When I walked in I recognized a few of the regulars from the old days. Still sitting in their same seats. I went to my regular seat in the back row to put on my tallit and tefillin and felt sad to see the empty row. The back row is where I'd sit with the old Russians and assorted אַלטער קאַקער and we would grump and grouch about politics, the weather, and the young wasting their youth. Now the row was empty. I had read about each of them passing away over the years. I had gone to several of their funerals and stood unnoticed in the background. I had visited their graves and left pebbles on their gravestones.

I finished and took a new seat on the second row. One of the regulars recognized me and we caught up a little. I had to bring him up to speed on the marriage ending, the kids growing up and all that had happened in the last decade or so. There were a few re-introductions to the new gang of אַלטער קאַקער on the side seats. I knew a few but I always try to be polite when someone meets me again for the first time. Plus I can respect an introduction that begins, "Listen, kid, you gotta tells us your name or it will bug us all morning and then we'll bug you all morning." Once my name was out, due to its Scots-Irish origin, many of them remembered me.

Minyan began and we davened. It felt good. I was anxious about making a mistake, but for the most part it was muscle memory. We finally got new siddurim in the minyan room. It's nice that we have the Siddur Sim Shalom for Weekdays now to replace the aging Birnbaums. Aging? I guess I should say ancient. In either case, it was a nice upgrade and made davening a little easier due to my rusty Hebrew.

After the service I said my goodbyes and went to work. After lunch I sent the rabbi a text message asking for some time to speak with him at his convenience. He called back a few minutes later and we caught up on times passed and discussed how I was to go about restoring my membership at the shul and attending services regularly. The rabbi, my Rabbi, is one of the few people on Earth whose opinion of me I worry about with any seriousness. I have always regarded him to be a wise man, an intelligent man, and a man of honor. I have caught myself on numerous occasions feeling completely overwhelmed by his mind, and this is a rare feeling for someone as arrogant as myself. I am rarely jealous of other's intelligence but it was almost routine when I was around him. I remember once seeing one of those funny door signs that said, "If you're the smartest person in the room, maybe you're in the wrong room." I wanted to get back to the right room. The rabbi and I had a pleasant telephone conversation and I said I would see him at a future service and we could talk more at that time.

When I walked into the minyan room Wednesday morning I had a feeling I haven't felt in years. I had the feeling I was home.

Wrap It Up

This year has been a year of renewal for me. I have taken on the challenge of becoming more observant in my Judaism this year, but that wasn't necessarily my going in option in January. In my last post I discussed how I decided to start wearing my kippah every day. I know years ago when I was first attempting to be more observant one of the things that kept coming up was that kippot were not Biblically mandated but tzitzit and tefillin were and that it was better to take up the obligation of tefillin than just a kippah. It had been a long time since I had laid tefillin regularly.

My tallit bag holding my tallit and tefillin had been on the bookshelf in the bedroom for a couple of years. It would get moved occasionally when we needed space for something. Each time I moved it I would feel the pang of guilt that I should be going to synagogue each week or, at the minimum, I should be using my tallit and tefillin every morning and praying.

As we approached Pesach the urge to lay tefillin was growing stronger with each morning. It was almost as if they were calling to me. Finally, the Sunday morning before Pesach, I took my tallit bag and siddur downstairs to daven shacharit. Unfortunately it had been almost 8 years since I had taken my tefillin out of the bag. As I unrolled them I could hear the black paint cracking and peeling off the retzuot and batim. I thought I had kept them safe over the years but apparently the humid summers here combined with being tightly wound and stored away was too much for them.

It was a shame see them in such shape. I remember how hard it was to save up the money for such a basic set back in February 2001. They were the cheapest set available from the "Source for Everything Jewish" catalog but they were like gold to me when I got them. I remember struggling to get the shel rosh knot adjusted to fit my head, and having to adjust the shel yad knot to accommodate my being left-handed. I remember feeling so self-conscious the first few times I wore them to morning minyan at shul. I was terrified that someone would point out I was doing something wrong. And I remember the horror I felt the first morning someone told me I was wrapping the wrong arm (I wasn't, he just didn't know I was a leftie).

For eight years I was consistent with laying tefillin each morning. Some mornings were more difficult than others, especially when I was still in the Navy. I have laid tefillin around the world and in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. I remember having to get really good calculating zemanim to adjust for my location. Thankfully the U.S. Navy was very keen on keeping up with sunrise and sunset.

It felt like a punch to the gut to see them like this and to think that I had let them get to this state. I immediately went online and started researching a new set. I finally settled on a pair that were within my budget but also very nice. I ordered two new tefillin bags, one for the new set and one for the old set. They had always be stored in one of my tallit bags but now I felt everyone should have their own. I decided that I wouldn't get rid of the old pair but instead I would set them aside and someday have them repaired. Perhaps when the tefillin set is repaired and once again certified kosher, I will pass them down to a child or grandchild.

The new set of tefillin arrived on the second evening of Pesach and the first day I could use them would be the first day of Chol HaMoed. I spent the evening looking up the rules of tefillin and making sure I was okay to daven with them on Chol HaMoed. I also spent a good amount of time looking up how to wrap tefillin. It had been so long since my last wrap I had forgotten how. Thankfully Internet is much more fleshed out in 2017 than it was in 2001, and I was able to find instructional videos for many, many wrapping styles. Granted, finding the finger wrap for me was a bit difficult and I recall finding out how to do that was tough the first time as well.

So now I have a new set of tefillin. The retzuot are still stiff and dig into my arm each morning. Some mornings I forget to put them on, some mornings I rush out the door and feel guilty that I didn't wear them. Most mornings I feel like I'm doing "Jewish" wrong and I'm skipping a prayer I should be saying or saying a prayer I should be skipping. But I'm spending time online learning more about tefillin than I've ever known before. I may even dedicate a post or two and share some of what I've learned.

The next big step is returning to shul. Remember when I took out my tallit and tefillin that Sunday before Pesach? There was something else in the bag. It was a program from Shabbat services. The week's parsha was va'eira and the year was 2009. The following Sunday morning when I went back to daven and pick up my tallit bag is the last confirmed time I was in the shul. So I need to make some phone calls and re-establish some lines of communication. But I guess that will be another blog post.