How Community Holds Us
"Public worship aids us by liberating personality from the confining walls of the individual ego. Imprisoned in self, we easily fall prey to morbid brooding. Interference with career, personal disappointment and disillusionment, hurts to vanity, the fear of death–all these tend to dominate our attention that our minds move in a fixed and narrow system of ideas, which we detest but from which we see no escape. With a whole wide world of boundless opportunities about us, we permit our minds, as it were, to pace up and down within the narrow cell of their ego-prisons. But participation in public worship breaks through the prison of the ego and lets in the light and air of the world. Instead of living one small and petty life, we now share the multitudinous life of our people. Against the wider horizons that now open to our ken, personal cares do not loom as large. Life becomes infinitely more meaningful and worthwhile when we become aware, through our participation in public worship, of a common life that transcends our individual selves."
~ Mordechai M. Kaplan
Though this passage refers to Jewish communal worship, as I read it I couldn't help but think, too, of the many other ways that community and connection ease our individual burdens, unite us in a sense of shared experience – struggles and joys alike – and help us move beyond the inner pacing that can keep us confined and stuck in old patterns. It also speaks to the ways in which the spiritual and the scientific intersect to support our healing, both individually and collectively.
I am currently reading a book called The Brain's Way of Healing: Remarkable Discoveries and Recoveries from the Frontiers of Neuroplasticity by Norman Doidge. Left to our own devices and without guidance and communal support, it is much easier to rehash old hurts or harbor self-doubts about our potential. But by sharing space with others – be it a coffee date with a friend, a weekly writing group, a meditation hall, or a birdwatching club – we remember the commonality that reminds us that ALL of us have neuroses, ALL of us are working through something, ALL of us are somewhere on a lifelong continuum of learning to live with more compassion, grace, courage, honesty, and balance.
Isolation is not the same as solitude. The former is a surefire way to close in on oneself, whereas the latter can be a life-giving, sacred form of stepping into the kind of inner stillness necessary for deeply connecting with the self. In other words, balance between intentional alone time and intentional connection is so important, and like most things, there is no perfect.
As I return to an experience of communal worship with my Jewish community during this introspective month of Elul (which leads up to the Days of Awe – Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur), I find both experiences nourishing. I've been starting my days with morning pages, drawing a card from a lovely deck I have, and writing out affirmations. And yesterday, spending the morning in Shabbat services, I was reminded of the healing and expansive powers of singing together. Even on Zoom, I felt a sense of belonging.
During the Torah service, there were three aliyot – this is when a reader chants a passage of Torah, and a blessing is offered related to its focus. Anyone who relates to the topic is invited to "come up" to the Torah (the word aliyah means "to go up"). Yesterday, I participated in all three of the aliyot. The first had to do with honoring the need for a process around creating new boundaries that can meet everyone's needs, ultimately resulting in greater shalom bayit (peace in the home). The second had to do with facing adversity and "finding the gold beneath the fear," in the words of Yoel Sykes, who was co-leading this beautiful service with our rabbi. And lastly, a blessing for appreciating the simple things that we might overlook – shelter, sustenance, companionship.
Each of these spoke deeply to my heart in this moment. And by hearing them in this communal context blending ancient traditions with modern language, I found myself feeling held, decidedly less alone, and thus, more hopeful and empowered than if I were to only sit alone in my house, forgetting that there is a whole community of folks right there – right here – who are also navigating the complexities of what Ram Dass called Human School.
Our minds, brains, and hearts are not only capable of change; change is the one thing we can count on for sure. It may seem paradoxical, but when I step into this truth, I am able to relax into a longer view and remember that the door of my ego-prison is always wide open. It’s up to me to walk out into the company of others, beginning with those closest to me.