Years ago, I regularly walked with my two bird dogs on streets near my home, in Winnipeg. I had a setter-mix and a pointer, rescued from a Kentucky animal shelter as young dogs, before moving to Canada. I walked them once or twice a day. Our routines were solid. The dogs sat on street corners. They heeled while crossing streets. Strangers admired their obedience skills and called out praise. Others stopped to say hello. I said thank you, but the next question almost always was, “How did you do that? My dog doesn’t….”
The answer, every time, was the same. I walked these dogs for years. Every day, we waited at street corners for cars to pass, and I had my dogs sit. Every time we crossed in traffic, I aimed for two lively dogs who heeled at my side to make the street crossing safer. Now, I own a different dog (another setter mix from the pound) and have twins as well. My family gets complimented about those lovely teens with their good manners, and we all say thank you. How did we do it? The same way – with consistency and positive reinforcement.
Our Jewish lives are also full of ritual and routine. No matter your level of observance, some of those repetitions stick. Perhaps you say a blessing when you wash your hands or do blessings before eating. Others may light Shabbat candles, attend a family seder or use Yiddish phrases of endearment. Some hum Jewish music or embrace Jewish values. These visible and invisible parts of our identity are so ordinary that we may not think about them much.
I’ve heard rabbis express their congregants’ disinterest in the specifics of how to build the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, in the wilderness in Exodus when reading the Torah portion each year. Yet these details mattered enormously to the many people who used the information as “how-to” guides. These were people with great skills, those who spun the finest linen yarn or wove the curtains, dyed the textiles the right shades using natural materials, or who worked gold and silver to create ornamentation. Later in our history, the priests who made the sacrifices in the Temple in Jerusalem needed to know how to do those sacrifices properly. The rabbis debated and recorded these routine details, even though the Temple no longer existed. The information was precious. It was a guide for the Jewish people.
The details illustrate how meaningful it was to create this beautiful “home” for the Divine. Today, we may not understand the details of how spinners, goldsmiths or hand-dyers worked. However, our texts record their efforts, these gorgeous descriptions, for a reason.
Just as our body is the “container” for our soul, our homes and synagogues are now our mishkan, our sanctuary. How we create beauty and routine matters. A house that’s functional and attractive is one where we find rest and peace to escape the outside world.
Like the daily dog walk, other routines or “sacrifices” make our houses and gardens functional and humming. It’s a pain to clean up thoroughly, whether dusting, scrubbing or sweeping. Still, these small moments add up to a clean, healthy and safe place to live. Clinging to these rituals also orders our lives when we’re mourning or stressed.
Many have seen social media images of Israelis, family or friends, rushing to their shelters to stay safe during the war. Recently, I saw a clip of a mom who taught her small children that, when they heard a big boom in the shelter, they should say, “Olé!” She created a quirky, positive celebration of life to respond to missiles and the Iron Dome response. That routine helps create resilience during anxious moments. We can panic when we don’t know what to do. Solid routines (rituals) create order during difficult times.
About eight years ago, I crossed a busy street in front of my home with my (new to me) adolescent, large dog. We tripped over each other. I literally fell and rolled at an intersection full of fast-moving cars. Kind people asked if I was OK as I got up from the pavement, but some stopped their cars to yell at us instead. This further panicked an already bruised and disoriented young dog and owner. My long routines of dog walks helped me get up, calm the new dog and get across the street safely. The drivers, jostled by this upsetting event, lost their calm commute. While I was bruised, I had the tools to get up again. I could proceed without yelling rude things back.
Every dog walk is an opportunity for training and reassurance. Every meal is a chance to rejoice in good, tasty food with people we love. We make the ordinary something special. When we’re faced with upheavals, a bad tumble or even a war, we can find resilience in the rituals and beauty of each day as it comes. Jewish life offers repeat performances, if we choose to embrace them.
While I sometimes dread chores like weeding, our small choices each day, what we plant or weed, can become glorious garden landscapes later. Similarly, big Shabbat meal prep for family and friends can feel overwhelming. However, when I break it down into first steps and familiar routines, baking challah or turning out salads, I regain calm. And, with each gathering, the bonds with family and friends are deepened.
We can choose resilience and ritual, meaning and beauty as daily practice even during hard moments. We can find the joy in the everyday, if we look around and see what we’ve created through those routines. The minutiae in our lives, the how-to manuals of our days, can feel like too much. Even so, a calm child or dog, a well-planned meal or a garden filled with colour are all signs of someone’s daily efforts. These household routines aren’t ordinary, but magnificent, like the ways we built the Mishkan, our wilderness sanctuary. Perhaps what’s limiting is the unimaginative person who yells negatively, for that’s the person who cannot see the countless steps that go into making the mundane into something holy.
Joanne Seiff has written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.