Weight A Moment

 

As a more experienced cyclist totally smoked me this morning, disappearing into the distance, for the second day in a row, I've started to seriously think about weight. Why am I so exhausted when I ride? Why are my tyres, which are fully pumped, sagging on contact with the road?

 

I have to be real with myself and answer that it's to do with my weight. When I was at university, I used to play at least an hour of Ultimate Frisbee every evening out on the lawn in front of New Hall. I was stick thin. My teenage years were certainly a time when I was at a healthy weight. As a child, I was always fairly chubby, probably because we had "tuck" every day from the tuck shop and also if we behaved at home, we were allowed a piece of chocolate after dinner. Once I started training to be a Rabbi, some of the weight gain started and I remember that in my first 6 months of Rabbinic life, I gained a stone (14lbs) in weight. The heaviest I've ever been is 204 lbs, which is 14 1/2 stone.

 

Even though I now haven't eaten chocolate in many years, I've been overweight especially since Jenny became pregnant with Zafra. I comfort ate with her because it was convenient and I've never shed the many pounds I gained at that time. When she became pregnant with Asher, I did it again. Then moving to America two yeas ago, where so much has added sugar and where all the portions are much larger, resulted in around another significant weight gain. So, today I weigh 194 lbs, or 13 lbs 12 oz.

 

When I did my last large bike ride, I was around 20lbs lighter, and I notice it now when I'm out on the bike. Interestingly, when I trained for that last ride four years ago, I didn't lose a pound in weight, probably because I was converting fat to muscle. I'm fairly certain, though, that I should be able to do both now. My BMI is 27.1, which puts me right in the middle of the "overweight" category.

 

I know I'm overweight. I hide it well with loose clothing so many people don't realise, but I am. It's better than it has been in the past, which was apparently "borderline obese," but if I'm going to cycle 100 miles, I need to shed the pounds. The more I weigh, the harder it will be to cycle because more energy must be spent moving a larger mass. It really is that simple. And I know that the biggest part of losing weight is mental discipline, something which I really have lacked in the past when it comes to food. I acknowledge that this is an area I need to work on.

 

And the simplest first step is to make more sensible choices. As lovely as some foods may be, they are not my friends. Like Trader Joe's Vanilla Joe-Joes. They are really, ridiculously addictive, but they are not my friend. Even the humble bagel, slathered in cream cheese, is not an ideal companion on this journey. People often talk about "everything in moderation" but I know that I'm addicted to sugar. I thought I was addicted to chocolate, which is why I gave it up years ago, but in truth I'm addicted to sugar.  And I'm not alone - millions of people worldwide are the same.... http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2013/08/sugar/cohen-text)
(http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/northamerica/usa/11232747/Americas-sugar-addiction-Just-how-bad-is-it.html)

 

 

I have been addicted to sugar since childhood and the consequences of that are very clear now.

One of the things I remember from the last bike ride was that eggs fill me up. They are eggstremely healthy (sorry!) and low in sugar. I know that I need to eat more eggs. I love eggs. Just like Mr Strong here from my childhood, who apparently seems to be making an obscene gesture in this picture. Maybe he's staring obesity in the face and telling it what he thinks of it...

 

As I've said before, a lot of bicycle training is mental. I have to make more conscious food choices, including on Shabbat. I always used to joke that there are no calories on Shabbat but that's actually not funny. We're meant to enjoy ourselves on Shabbat but that's different to poisoning ourselves and I've definitely been doing that with all the sugary foods I've been known to eat on Shabbat. Thankfully, at Temple Beth Shalom the selection at our oneg has become healthier and healthier in recent months at my request, but when there's sugar on the table the temptation for "just a little one" is too high. Then I go back for a little more, and then a little more, until suddenly I realise (as I did last week) that I've eaten half a cheesecake.

 

So, my progress today isn't in cycling, but in mental attitude. I need to lose weight to make this bike ride much easier, and to do that I need to take control of what I eat. That is why, while typing out this blog entry, I munched on...



Passing a Milestone

As you will have seen from my last post, I have started to worry a little that I'm not cycling far enough on each ride. With only ten or so weeks remaining before the big ride, I've only been able to cycle 10 miles at a time. It is said that if you can cycle half the distance during practice then you'll be able to cycle the full distance on the day. By that reckoning, I will currently only be able to cycle twenty miles, instead of the full 100.

Week 5's schedule was clear - 10 miles on Tuesday, 10 on Wednesday, 15 on Friday and 30 on Sunday. Instead of the first ten miles I did 5, although I did get to do the second ten. Thursday night was a tough night for me so Friday's ride wasn't possible, and I was immensely frustrated. So this morning I tried to at least get in my first 15 mile ride (instead of the 30 on the training schedule).

I set off later than usual and my legs were sluggish. I knew that this wasn't going to be a record-breaking ride. It was interesting how much warmer the temperature was as compared with my normal rides and it reminded me that closer to the ride itself I'm going to have to do some heat training. I'm not used to temperatures like this. The first five miles I covered in 22:36, a good minute and a half off my personal best. But then I found my groove and got stuck in and, to my surprise, I finished off 10 miles in 43:35, which meant that my second ten miles had shattered my 5-mile PB at 20:59. This was now my new 10-mile PB, if only by 9 seconds!

I set off for the third leg and found it hard going. But for the first time in over four years, I was able to cycle for over an hour, and completed my first 15-miles in 1:07:30. This is a major milestone for me. I appreciate that my training schedule is harassing me to be at 30 miles by now and that I'm well below that, but at the end of the 15 I felt like I could probably go on and do 20. I didn't because I had to go home, shower, have breakfast and then get into work for the Ritual Forum.

A lot of cycling distance is mental. I know that I can theoretically cycle 70 or so miles because I did for the Rabbis' Relay Ride back in England four years ago. Of course, there it was cooler, at much lower-altitude where the air was easier to use, and I was healthier back then. In particular, I was about 20 lbs lighter. That makes a difference - the more I weigh, the more effort I have to put into shifting my bulk. But mentally I'm not there yet, as well as physically. Now, though, I have no excuse not to cycle 15 miles as a minimum for each practice ride. Interestingly, week 6's schedule has two 10-mile rides, one 15-mile ride and a 35-mile ride, a total of 70 miles. That's not going to happen. If I can do 10, 15, 15 and 20 this week - a total of 60 miles - I'll be making real progress.

Training Highs and Lows So Far

I spent a while looking online at century bike ride training schedules and found one that was 16 weeks long, which is ideal because the Tour of Acoma is 16 weeks away. I printed it off and took it home in preparation.

The first week I just wanted to see what it was like being out on the bike. I cycled two miles, instead of the thirty that the schedule demanded. I think it was assuming I was fitter than I am. Truth is, though, that this isn't just about physical fitness but also about mental preparation, and I found it difficult to get up especially early in the morning, particularly on mornings following when I've been out trying to scare coyotes away from our property!

Week 2's schedule asked for two 5-mile rides, a 10-mile ride and a 20-mile ride. I did my first five miles in 29 minutes. I was totally wiped out. I actually sat in a bath for half an hour afterwards. It's really different cycling at altitude. I know I've lived here for two years so walking around is fine, but exercising at altitude is different. And I came to realise exactly how unfit I am. The next day I went out again and shaved three minutes off my time. Although the schedule asked for ten miles on Wednesday, I just did five, in 27 minutes and then the following day I did another five in 27 minutes again. So the schedule asked for 40 miles and I did 20, which is at least progress.

I'm very lucky in terms of route. From my house to Desert Academy is exactly 2.5 miles, so there and back is 5, and it's a nice ride in the morning. I'm behind schedule at this point, but I'm making progress.

Week 3 asked for 5 miles on Tuesday, 10 on Wednesday, 10 on Friday and 25 on Sunday. I'm finding the Sunday rides difficult to fit in because of work. Because I didn't do a Sunday ride last week, I go out on Monday and decide to try 10 miles. I'm flying after 5 miles and shave my PB (personal best) down to 25 minutes. I'm starting to notice that I'm getting fitter. I start my second lap and after about two miles my back tyre gets a massive puncture. Really frustrating. It's fixed by the end of the day so on Tuesday, I decide to attempt 10 miles, and smash my 5-mile PB with 21:33, and set my first 10-mile PB at 43:44. That's the longest I've cycled in four years. Thursday I try again and get 22:14 and 45:12. It's not a brilliant ride but it's another ten miles on the schedule. 25 miles cycled this week - slow progress because the schedule asked for 50, but at least it's progress. Every time I go out for a ride now, Asher says he's happy that I don't get a puncture.

Week 4 asked for less - 30 miles - but work, allergies and fatigue meant it was a very lean week - two five mile rides (23:06 and 22:40). The first one my head was in totally the wrong place. I finished the first five and really pushed myself to go onto the second. Less than half a mile in, I changed gears on a hill and the chain came off. I took it as a sign, fixed the chain, and walked back home.

Now I'm onto week 5 of training. By now the schedule suggests 65 miles this week. That's a lot of miles considering that my maximum so far has been 25. This week, I pull out the cycling gear that I wore for my bike ride 34 years ago. It helps mentally to look the part!

 

On Monday I once again smashed my 5-mile PB with 21:21, and this morning I cut it down again to 21:00 exactly, and matched my 10-mile 43:44 PB.

5 mile times	10 mile times
29
26
27
27
25
21:33	43:44
22:14	45:12
23:06
21:21
21:00	43:44

I take some comfort from this chart. In four weeks, I've been able to take 8 minutes off my 5-mile time, that's 28% off the original time. If I can do that for the 10-mile and then the 15-mile rides, I'll be in good shape in ten weeks' time.

In theory, tomorrow is meant to be a 15-mile ride, and for the first time this morning I felt like I would be able to do that. In fact, there are no more 5-mile rides in the schedule at all - 10 is the minimum from now on, so that's the PB I really need to be focusing on. I also need to start doing the longer rides. This week's long ride is suggested at 30 miles, but that's not going to happen. If I can do my first 15 tomorrow and then maybe another 15 on Sunday, that would be a total of 45 miles this week, which would be a big jump. That said, I’m aware that I’m really going to have to step up my game here.

Week	Total Miles on Schedule	Total Miles Cycled
1	30	2
2	40	20
3	50	25
4	30	10
5	55	15 so far…

 

I think this schedule assumed that I was fitter than I am. Next week it's going to be asking for 70 miles in total and I'm going to have to start doing more than 50% of what it asks. Revd Ben Larzelere, who is hoping to be joining me on the ride, says that if you cycle 250 miles before a Century, you should be fine. He might be right - I've so far cycled 67 miles and I know I'm not ready. The total on the schedule is 1045! I'm rather hoping that Ben is right...!

 



 

In our morning service, we thank God for the wonder of our bodies in a prayer known as n’kavim n’kavim and follow it by a prayer thanking God for returning our souls to us each morning (elohai n’shama). Body and soul are separated in our liturgy and as a result it can be easy for us as Jews to disconnect body and soul. Even a Rabbi splits the two off in the Talmud:

Rav Huna said to his son, Rabbah, “Why are you not to be found before Rav Hisda, whose dicta are so keen?” “What should I go to him for,” he answered, “seeing that when I go to him, he treats me to secular discourses?... He talks of health matters.” He exclaimed, “And you call them secular discourses! All the more reason for going to him!”[1]

While still alluding to a differentiation between body and soul, 12^th century Moses Maimonides made it clear that a healthy body is essential for a healthy soul:

“Since by keeping the body in health and vigor, one walks in the ways of God – it being impossible during sickness to have any understanding or knowledge of the Creator – it is a person’s duty to avoid whatever is injurious to the body, and cultivate habits conducive to health and vigor.”[2]

As profoundly moving the Rabbinate can be, it is not a healthy profession. Rabbis tend to either sit a lot (for example, when meeting people or when studying) or they stand still a lot (such as when teaching or leading prayers). We eat a lot, too, especially when celebrating Shabbat or festivals. I have come to realise that during my Rabbinate so far that I have forgotten, to paraphrase Rav Kook, that we have holy flesh no less than holy spirit. I intend to change that and for the community to benefit from this change.

It is therefore my intention to complete the Tour of Acoma, a 100-mile bike ride on September 18^th 2016. It has been four years since I cycled properly and I have never faced an endurance challenge like this for a number of reasons – (1) I have never been this unfit before, (2) I have never cycled this far before, (3) I am asthmatic, (4) I have never cycled at this kind of temperature before, (5) I have never cycled at this altitude before. If I am to do this, I need your serious support. The biggest way you can help me while training and on the actual day itself is to sponsor me per mile cycled. The more I raise for the Temple, the more likely I will be to finish this challenge.

My hope is to become much healthier for my benefit, for the community’s benefit and also to raise funds for the community at the same time. I will, essentially, be changing pounds into dollars, and yes, I believe that joke alone deserves at least some kind of sponsorship! This is without doubt the hardest physical and mental challenge I have ever faced, and I really hope that members of the community and beyond will sponsor me accordingly.

You will be able to follow my training exploits here, learn more about how to sponsor me and just send general words of encouragement on this blog.

 

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[1] Talmud: Shabbat 82a

[2] Maimonides, Book of Knowledge, Laws Relating to Moral Dispositions and Ethical Conduct, Law 1.

Being a Winner

I recently took part in a competition for a table-top game called X-Wing Miniatures. It’s a Star Wars themed game that involves spaceships from the Star Wars films. In this National competition with the top prize of a flight to America, there were 60 people playing. I brought a completely unique squad that had never been flown before and came joint 27th. So no flight to America although I did win a playmat signed by one of the game designers. I left the competition feeling fairly happy – I had won three games and lost three games in my first ever tournament where I had tried something risky, made a couple of mistakes and just wasn’t lucky with the dice.

As the days passed, I started to realise that I could have done better (although I probably wouldn’t have reached the lofty heights of the very impressive 7^th place achieved by David Sleet, BRS’s Community IT Director). The joy of coming in the top half of the table started to give way to frustration of not doing better. Then I read an online post by someone who said that he was pleased to have come 51^st because he’d never played the game against other people before! If he was happy with his 51^st place, what was my problem with 27^th? What finally helped resettle my mind was putting it into a larger context. Yes, of course in the grand scheme of things, the ability to move spaceships around a table effectively is utterly meaningless. But I was 27^th in the whole of the UK – that’s 27^th out of around 62,470,000 people who could conceivably play X-Wing Miniatures if they wanted. Being a winner is really a matter of perspective, it seems.

So what’s the Jewish perspective on competition? Well, the Rabbis of the Talmud weren’t into competition because they felt it took away from a life completely dedicated to Torah study, so they don’t have too much to say on the matter.  Perhaps we can say that Jewish tradition doesn’t focus on winning and losing but, rather, on the encounter with God which is something that by definition isn’t competitive. I think that sometimes we need to compete for the excitement, so long as we remember that in the eyes of God we’re all winners, albeit with varying degrees of closeness of relationship to God. And maybe next time I compete I’ll say a little prayer… not to act as some kind of magical enchantment of good fortune but, rather, to remind me before I compete on what’s important in life and why I’m already a winner.

We Were Slaves And Now Others Are Instead

The whole point of the seder service is to bring the Exodus from Egypt, an event from our past, directly into present day relevance. “We were slaves to Pharaoh,” “This is because of what the Eternal did for me when bringing me out of Egypt.” This isn’t a commemoration but a re-enactment. As we read of the Exodus, we take part in it. We become free and explore with food and questions what it is to be free. We are guided through the Haggadah to consider those who are not free and we open the door and invite all those who are hungry to come and eat. Then we close the door, either to keep out the cold or possibly because subconsciously we don’t know what we would do with ourselves if some impoverished person turned up on our doorstep at that moment asking for food.

As a child I always thought the message of the seder was that we are free but actually I think it’s more complex. I think more accurately the seder is a theological exploration of what it is to be free in a world where others are not. The seder doesn’t just say “We’re free!” but, rather, “We’re free…. so now what?” As information becomes globalised we now know more than ever of millions of people who are anything but free. There are people who are oppressed politically, who are oppressed because of their gender or sexuality, who are restricted because of starvation. There are those who have jobs but who are all but slaves in the most obvious sense, earning a pittance so that companies can make the largest profit providing us with the latest trainers, electronic gadgets or designer labeled clothes. The more we learn about this world the more it seems that freedom is the exception and not the norm.

The Seder service demands a choice from us - will you sit around and drink wine, or will you use your freedom to liberate others? Coupled with the Divine call for justice in the Torah – “Justice, justice you shall pursue” (Deut. 16:20) – the Seder service is the enactment of a theological imperative to recognise our own freedom and to use it to liberate others. Yet we spend so long planning the eating, drinking and reciting that we easily forget the urgency of the imperative. This Pesach, let us also hold the enactment of that imperative to be as important as any other aspect of Pesach. Let it be not just “This is what the Eternal did for me” but also “This is what I did for others.”

To Have Or To Hold - A Tu BiShevat Thought

When Zafra walks past a flower, there are two things that she likes to do - to pluck it or to smell it. Sometimes they're mutually exclusive - she'll sometimes pluck but not smell or sometimes smell but not pluck. Sometimes, she does both, in either order. It's rare that she doesn't at least pluck or smell. But this very simple act of plucking a flower (or not) always leaves me conflicted for a number of reasons.

Very rarely before I can stop her, she actually breaks the law. I know... seriously? If you're in park land then according to UK law it's illegal to pick deliberately planted flowers. Normally, though, this isn't an issue because it's normally wild flowers she goes for, but if something is really pretty then she can sometimes really want it. She doesn't terrorise local parks tearing up daffodils, so it's not normally the law I'm worried about.

What I'm more concerned about is what message she'll get from the flower. Are flowers for her to pluck, take with her and enjoy with the family for a few days (before they wither and die) or are they for her to smell and enjoy without taking ownership? I'm reminded of Shel Silverstein's classic text The Giving Tree which is a clear critique of a utilitarian approach to nature. In essence (at least the way I read the book), it reminds us that we can't just take from the natural world according to our own wishes but, rather, have to live with the natural world. So, I want her to not pick the flower and just leave it be.

And yet, if she can take the flower home, enjoy it, and then watch the consequences of an uprooted flower, isn't there the potential for an even more powerful lesson? A lesson, perhaps, in how short-term pleasure isn't as satisfying as long-term pleasure, or that short-term human pleasure can often come at the cost of long-term existence of nature? A bit heavy for someone not yet three years old but definitely there can be the foundation of that lesson.

Then I think to myself, am I overanalysing this? This is a young girl, not an eco-Rabbi like me, simply living in the moment enjoying nature. Can't I just enjoy her enjoyment? So I put the thinking to the side and just live in the moment as she does. And then she goes to pluck the flower and I instinctively cry out "No!" I can't help it.

I share this personal inner debate on Tu BiShevat because while we may wonder about children, I think there can be no doubt about adults. We have passed so many ecological thresholds already that we cannot continue a utilitarian approach to nature. We have to put our short-term pleasures to the side whenever they contradict the long-term health of the natural world.

For me, Tu BiShevat is not just about celebrating trees or, even, planting a tree and helping us feel like we've offset all our paper usage and carbon emissions for the year (!).  Tu BiShevat has to be a call to re-evaluate our relationship with nature. We can have it in our lives for perpetuity or we can try to hold onto it, grasp it, use it, exploit it for a brief while before watching it wither. Let's have nature exist for it's own sake, not for our own. Let it exist because it attests to its Creator not because it's useful for us. Let Tu BiShevat remind us that our relationship with nature does not have to be utilitarian and exploitative but can be, should be... must be mutual and sustainable.

Chag Sameach!

Symbols of the Past, Present and Future

I was talking with someone the other day and they mentioned the Liberty Bell in America. I made some remark about how when I went to see it, I was one of those wise-guy tourists who loudly says, "But it's cracked!"

When I think about it, though, that isn't my overriding memory of the Liberty Bell. There are two things I particularly remember. The first was the security, the extraordinary security designed to protect a bell. The second thing that I remember was that outside in a street lamp a squirrel had made its home! The lamp obviously no longer worked and the squirrel had brought leaves and the like into the shade in order to make a very comfortable bed. I took more photos of that squirrel in the lampshade than I did of the bell, the actual tourist attraction.

This evening, I just heard that Jurgen Moltmann said that the future is more important than the past. I have much sympathy with that position. And yet the present is more important still. The Liberty Bell is an artefact of the past - an important symbol of freedom but a symbol nonetheless. The squirrel was alive, vibrant, a part of the great web of life. Yet the people around us paid more attention to the bell than to the living, extraordinary being in front of them. You might think "But there are millions of squirrels!" To which I would reply "But there are millions of bells." "Ah," you might think, "but there's only one Liberty Bell." "True," I would reply "but each squirrel is unique, too."

I don't intend to demean the Liberty Bell by comparing it with a squirrel... obviously not! Rather, what I'm saying is that the Liberty Bell is a symbol from the past that affects the present and the future. The squirrel is alive in the present, in the here and now. Although, of course, strictly speaking it was in the past, an event many years ago, and that squirrel may no longer even be alive today. Interestingly, the bell endures, a symbol of enduring freedom, in theory, at least. Indeed, the only way I can blog about this entire event is by reflecting back into the past to try to make it alive today.

So the past is important and can be brought into the present and the future, like the Liberty Bell. It can teach us valuable lessons, such as the importance of Freedom. And yet the past is not alive and neither is the future. Only the present is alive, alive as that squirrel I saw on the same day. Life is something so extraordinary even though we so often take it for granted. It is wondrous, beautiful, and awe-inspiring. Just as the Liberty Bell is a symbol, so, too, is every living being - a symbol of the glory of life, the wonder of existence and the need to never become complacent in the face of pure being. Those are the symbols that none of us can ignore.

Please, God, Not Again....

Just the other day I was with the local Imam and he was telling me how difficult things were for the Muslim community given what was going on in Syria. I empathised with him and we discussed their pain. He listed off statistics of innocent people being killed and we shared grief at the situation. Days later, I’m expecting a ‘phone call from the Daily Echo asking for a comment on Israel latest operation in Gaza which will likely be compared with that of Imam Majid and which will reveal our differences once more.

What disturbs me almost as much as the loss of innocent life is the polarisation of the rest of the world observing what happens. That disturbs me because the more polarised we become the harder it will ever be to find a solution and, therefore, the more likely it will be that more innocent blood is shed. Remarkably, last night I found myself online completely polarised, begging some historical revisionists to at least accept Israel’s right to exist. I hoped I could add to their knowledge but it quickly became clear that we were all entrenched in our own views and nothing would move us. I find myself reflecting back on that conversation with the words of the Bible ringing – “Do not answer a fool according to his folly or you will also be like him” (Prov. 26:4). Conflict like that in Gaza can so easily lead to polarisation – Jews flocking to defend Israel and Muslims flocking to defend Palestinians. Suddenly, we’re back where we were with Operation Cast Lead, angrily shouting at each other to get ‘the truth’ heard.

I’m not going to write to defend Israel today or to criticise it. I want to do both. Israel, of course, has a right to exist free from terror and yet it seems to have chosen to launch an attack on Gaza only hours after some kind of ceasefire had been brokered with Hamas. Israel has an absolute duty of care to keep its citizens safe but with every military operation it loses more global support and risks the long-term future of the state itself as the perception of a apartheid state gains ground in the media. We can’t win this. We can never win like this. There has to be another way…. I just don’t know what it is. Perhaps it is to not be polarised, to see both sides, to try to experience the pain of the other as well as of the self – individual or collective. Or perhaps that’s woolly wishful thinking that can be done from the comfort of Bournemouth. So perhaps instead of political commentary, instead of defending one side against the other when deep down we know that both sides have done wrong, perhaps all we can do is open our hearts and mouths in prayer and start by saying ‘Please, God, not again….’

The Search for Serach

In 2003 I had the fortune to study Talmud at the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College with two wonderful teachers - Jonah Steinberg and Sarra Lev - both of whom opened up new ways of approaching Talmud. In one of Jonah Steinberg classes, he mentioned Serach bat Asher and suggested that having a cup for Serach would actually be more appropriate than a cup for Miriam (I'm aware that you may be thinking 'Who's Serach?' - don't worry, I explain later!). Miriam's cup is now well established in very many progressive seders around the world so I remember thinking that, as much as I appreciated the narratives of Serach bat Asher, I could never see a cup for her replacing a cup for Miriam.

It was only once I started leading communal seders at Bournemouth Reform Synagogue that I realised that Serach could ... should... make an appearance but not instead of Miriam but in addition to Miriam. All of this, by the way, presupposes a cup for Elijah, the fifth cup on the table, about which the Rabbis didn't know if we should drink from it, so they left it out for Elijah to solve when the Messiah comes.

Below is the text that I wrote to explain who Serach bat Asher is and how and why we should have a cup for her. Please feel free to use this (provided you acknowledge the source!) in your seder if you wish...

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The Cup of Serach bat Asher, Rabbi Neil Amswych, 2006

Not only did Serach bat Asher go down to Egypt with Jacob’s family, but she was also present after the Exodus. Midrash ascribes eternal life to a woman whose presence in modern conscious Jewish history is hardly recorded. Yet we read that she was the person who proved to the Israelites that Moses was genuinly going to redeem the people, and only she knew the locations of Joseph’s bones that were due to be carried out of Egypt.
Serach finds herself in between Miriam and Elijah. Just as Miriam’s Cup reminds us of the past, so too the start of Serach’s journey is a reminder of the past. But her ability to live into the Israelite’s redemption from Egypt also makes her like Elijah, looking forwards into the future. Some commentators say that she died, like Miriam, but others hold that she lives forever, like Elijah. As a keeper of secrets and, according to tradition, the guardian of Israelite folk-memory, she brings the past into the present, and she looks forward from now.
Serach, like each one of us, finds herself not to be a prophet or prophetess, but an ordinary human being capable of extraordinary things. From normality, Serach creates for herself a remarkable destiny. Her cup is the cup of the immediate present, reminding us to be fully present at all times, and yet to remember the past as well as look to the future. She mixes the lives and abilities of Miriam and Elijah, and so her cup of a mixture of water and wine. It is a cup which refreshes us and enlivens us, just as we are to refresh and enliven those around us. As we drink from Serach’s Cup, we remember that even though we may not be a prophet, we are still very human, and it is the gift of our humanity that promises so much.

We pour the wine from Elijah’s cup and the water from Miriam’s cup together into the previously empty cup of Serach bat Asher.
               
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ..., שׁהַכֹּל נִהְיֶה בִּדְבָרוֹ:
Blessed are You, our Living God, by whose word all things exist.

We drink the mixture of water and wine.




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We drink the wine from Elijah's cup? Yes, we do. Because it's a ridiculous waste of wine and energy to have it grown, bottled, transported and then sit out on your table only to then be thrown away at the end of the evening, and such a waste is clearly contrary to bal tashchit - the prohibition against needless waste. But we don't drink straight, we mix it with water to show (as well as all the reasons mentioned above) that we're not just drinking from Elijah's cup - hence the blessing is not the one for the fruit of the vine.