My relationship to prayer started as a young girl. I went to Jewish day school for six  years, where I received my own prayer book in a ceremony in first grade. (I haven’t seen it in years, but I imagine it lives somewhere within my parents’ bookshelves.) My parents keep kosher and have two sets of dishes, and we diligently and joyfully observed holidays. 

‍

Belonging to a synagogue was very important to my parents, so we joined the only one in our town (despite it being not quite what my dad, a Sephardic immigrant, really wanted). But it was enough — alongside Jewish day school and weekly Shabbat meals — to root us into a connection with prayer, ritual, and tradition. 

‍

But, somewhere between childhood and adulthood, my own relationship with observance and the patterns of Jewish religious life began to change.

‍

I have never belonged to a synagogue on my own (though I still occasionally accompany my parents). I’ve thought about finding a synagogue many times, but the idea of reciting the same prayers in the same order usually feels constricting. Hemmed in by dress pants and a stiff tallit, I can’t help but get that “how-many-pages-do-we-have-left” feeling still left over from childhood. While the Hebrew prayers themselves are comforting and familiar, the synagogue isn’t where I find my inspiration.

‍

I’ve always loved hiking and spending time outdoors. Nature soothes me and grounds me like nothing else. I find solace out there in the woods, despite the ongoing chaos of the world. I breathe more deeply and marvel at small details — the tiny orange salamander! the beautiful purple wildflower! —  that would normally pass by unnoticed.

‍

As a grandchild of a Holocaust survivor and the child of a Sephardic Jew who lived through forced migration and othering, marking small moments — like making challah with my mom or lighting Shabbat candles with my husband — has always felt particularly important. My family often marked these quiet moments of pleasure or joy by reciting the Shehecheyanu, a Jewish prayer usually recited to mark important milestone moments and firsts. 

‍

The first time I recited the Shehecheyanu outside, I wasn’t planning it. I was visiting Minnewaska State Park Preserve in upstate New York, completely alone. It was just me and the distant hawks circling overhead and a spontaneous desire to speak these words aloud:

‍

Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu melekh ha-olam, shehecheyanu, v’kiymanu, v’higianu la-zman ha-zeh.

‍

Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Sovereign of all, who has kept us alive, sustained us, and brought us to this season.

‍

This simple prayer, shaped in response to the whistling wind and the lush blanket of trees below, came from the depths of my self. In that moment it was a connection to myself and my family roots, a feeling of being rooted in the world.

‍

Now, each time I visit that one specific cliff at Minnewaska State Park Preserve, I recite the Shehecheyanu. It’s just me, fully present in yoga pants and hiking shoes, out under the sky. It’s me, landed in my breath and my body, anchored to the natural world. It’s me, alive and sustained and connecting to the moment, in gratitude to the creation of the beauty around me. 

‍

And then, long after I’ve traced the trail back to my car and driven back home, I can carry that resource deep inside of me as a sacred guide through chaotic days. 

‍

I was raised to love tradition and the Judaism of my parents, but saying the Shehecheyanu on this cliff has become a new, equally powerful tradition. Even just thinking about it connects me to a sense of awe, of openness, of peace. It’s a tradition that I intend to continue, always. 

‍

At The Well uplifts many approaches to Jewish practice. Our community draws on ancient Jewish wisdom, sometimes adapting longstanding practices to more deeply support the well-being of women and nonbinary people. See this article’s sources below. We believe Torah (sacred teachings) are always unfolding to help answer the needs of the present moment.

‍

Sources

Shehechiyanu: A Meditation on This Moment, My Jewish Learning

Shehecheyanu, ReformJudaism.org

‍