Go to Yourself
And you shall be a blessing.
A confession. I have never run a marathon.
I know! You’re shocked, aren’t you.
I have started the couch to 5K running program approximately 1,349 times. But no. I have never actually run a marathon, or even a 5K.
Because, I’ll be honest — running hurts! It’s hard on your joints, and the soreness after going for a run, after feet hitting the pavement over and over — feels more painful to me than the soreness after other work outs.
I am sure many of you are like me. But maybe some of you are like Erik.
Erik Chazin is a member here at Congregation Beth Israel, and on Monday he ran the Boston Marathon — for the second time. And he didn’t just run it. He ran fast. Erik came in 605th place out of over 15 thousand runners. That’s right — in the top 5% of all the participants. A truly outstanding physical accomplishment.
Being the kind of person who wants a gold star for 45 minutes on my stationary Peloton bike, I had to know more. I reached out to Erik yesterday and he explained:
“Running is a place I go that challenges and changes my body and my mind to prove how far they both can stretch.” “Part of running” he said, “is a quest to discover how far I can push myself and what my limits are. For me, to give anything less than I have is to give up the gift God gave me.”
For those of us who aren’t marathoners, or ironmen, or yogis or crossfitters… our bodies might not always feel like this perfect expression of a Divine gift. In so many cases we are taught the opposite: to work against our bodies, to deprive our bodies and perhaps even to feel shameful that they aren’t more perfect, or more beautiful, or more whole.
In this week’s Torah portion, Lech Lecha, God asks Abram to undergo a physical challenge. It is not a marathon, but a moment. Not a racecourse, but a covenant.
זֹ֣את בְּרִיתִ֞י אֲשֶׁ֣ר תִּשְׁמְר֗וּ בֵּינִי֙ וּבֵ֣ינֵיכֶ֔ם וּבֵ֥ין זַרְעֲךָ֖ אַחֲרֶ֑יךָ הִמּ֥וֹל לָכֶ֖ם כׇּל־זָכָֽר׃
Such shall be the covenant between Me and you and your offspring to follow which you shall keep: every male among you shall be circumcised. (Genesis 17:10)
God asks Abraham and every generation yet to come to carry the reminder that our bodies and our beliefs are inextricably linked. That for both Jewish men, who wear this symbol in their flesh and for Jewish women whose physical representation of the covenant is internal — our bodies, and their potential, are a manifestation of holiness here on earth. Our bodies are a part of our blessing.
This is counter cultural.
When I lived in the Bay Area and attended spin classes at the JCC, at the end of each class an “inspirational” message would flash on the screen at the front of the room. The bikes were logged into to a technology that calculated our total caloric burn. “Together you burned 12,000 calories!” It said. “That’s 40 ice cream Sundaes, or 120 glasses of wine!” And we would read it, and chuckle, and go about our day. But somewhere in the halfhearted laughter is the normalized idea that treats need to be ‘earned.’ And that exercise is like currency that we trade for macros, or carbs, or calories.
I know that this might not be the case for everyone, but for many of us, this kind of thinking is deeply, deeply ingrained. After a rich dinner out, or after snagging a few of my kid’s Oreos, I will often feel like I need to ‘undo’ the damage. It feels like the enjoyment of food is a mistake I need to fix, or, on darker days, a penance that I need to pay. As if one of God’s gifts — the ability to take pleasure in the taste or texture of a calorically dense food –needs to be undone by another: our ability to move and stretch and sweat.
This instinct is built into weight loss programs and calorie counters. And while we all have our own personal relationship with food and diet — there is also a warning bell that rings for me when we take these sweet experiences and assign them positive or negative value.
The rabbis teach us to say 100 blessings every day.
Some of the most well-known blessings are the ones over food and drink that we learn in Jewish preschool and sing at Jewish summer camp, like hamotzi for bread, and kiddush for wine. And then, as our B’nai Mitzvah students are preparing to lead services on their own, they also learn nisim b’chol yom, the blessings of every day. They chant: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם הַמֵּכִין מִצְעֲדֵי גָֽבֶר — blessed are you God who makes our steps firm, or הַנּוֹתֵן לַיָּעֵף כֹּֽחַ, who gives us strength when we are weary.
It has taken me a long time to learn that food and movement are not reward and consequence. Rather, they are both good for us. They are both a source of pleasure. And they are both a blessing.
I am willing to poke fun at my own Peloton obsession. I’m sure many of you are familiar with the at-home workout craze that takes place on a bike that goes nowhere. But I can’t deny the important learning I have while spinning with headphones on in my bedroom at 6am. On an early morning ride the other day, one of my favorite instructors, (Kendall Toole for my fellow Pelo-nerds) reminded all of us cycling alone in our homes that to elevate our heart rates, to sweat and to strengthen ourselves is not a punishment. We have nothing to apologize for.
This workout is a celebration!
Rabbi Elyse Goldstein writes:
“that ‘Shmirat HaGuf’, taking care of your body — is … a spiritual as well as a physical act. The wellbeing of the body has to be maintained as the vessel of the soul, the repository of that which most closely connects us with God. Our body is a gift from God, a divine creation which is to be respected, cherished, and cared for as long as we are in this world. With awareness of Shmirat HaGuf, even the simplest activities, such as eating, walking, or washing one’s hands, become acts of holiness.”
This is to say: that the blessings of our bodies are not either food or movement. Rather, this is a both/and: how incredible it is that we can make choices to eat and to move that make us feel our best, enjoy life, and be satisfied.
In Parashat Lech Lecha our bodies symbolize this promise to God. When Abraham and Sarah accept God’s command to “Go,” they embody their commitment through the cuts on his skin and the steps that they take towards the land of sweet milk and even sweeter honey. Lech Lecha, God directs them: ‘Go to yourself.’
In other words, be who you are.
Be how I made you.
Be you.
When Erik ran the Boston Marathon in under 3 hours, he did not beat his own personal record. But, he says, ‘I still ran my heart out.’ He took enjoyment in the journey: in the cheering crowds, the communal atmosphere. He accomplished his goal of being back in Boston after two long years, and using his gift: this God-given gift that he has nurtured with training and grit and determination. Now, I’m not running a marathon anytime soon, but both he, and we, can continue to strive towards our potential.
Our ability to move is a miracle.
Anyone who has healed from an injury or recovered from an illness can remind us of this.
We each have the option to meet a daily challenge. It could be a goal as lofty as training for a marathon, or as challenging as learning to riding a bike. It could be as simple as making the space in a busy week to walk around the block, or pushing ourselves to get out of bed on the days that living our lives feels challenging enough.
Remember: you are a masterpiece.
And so am I.
And to love the bodies we are in right now, to appreciate everything we are capable of and to have compassion on ourselves for the ways we are growing and changing and aging and training is not just good for our health, but is an act of holy promise.
Lech Lecha, God says.
Go to yourself.
In this vessel that I gave you, with this promise that I make to you…
Be you.
Love you.
Because you — and all that you do — is enough.
Rabbi Sara Mason-Barkin
Parashat Lech Lecha, 10.15.2021
Congregation Beth Israel, Scottsdale
