News from Rabbinate
In Jewish tradition there are two key terms often spoken about: Keva and Kavana. Keva means what is fixed, the set form, the established words of prayer. Kavana means what is felt, the intention of the heart, the inner spark of the soul.
They are so often understood as opposites, even rivals, fighting for the birthright of holiness. But in truth, each is a world of its own.
Keva is not only a rigid form. Keva is an anchor. It is the words distilled by our ancestors through generations of faith and struggle. It is a support when no words of our own will come. It is a frame, a rhythm, a pulse. Keva creates a vast community, binding people across time and space.
Kavana is not only fleeting inspiration. Kavana is what keeps words from becoming empty, what turns ritual into encounter. Kavana reshapes us in the very act of speaking.
For centuries these two have seemed to stand in rivalry. Some say: without Keva there is no tradition, only chaos. Others insist: without Kavana there is no spirit, only dead form.
But I believe we can find a middle way, a holy way to resolve this seeming contradiction. Holiness is not found in choosing one over the other. Holiness is born in their meeting, in the borderland.
This is what I call Kevana. We should not decide between Keva and Kavana, but embrace the richness of their union.
Just like these Days of Awe, this buffer zone between years, believed to be the threshold between life and death, between fortune and calamity. We meet on the cusp between years, on the border of light and darkness.
Perhaps God the Judge is not only rigidly decreeing destinies, separating good from evil, the righteous from the sinful. God can also be listening gently, as we all stand again as witnesses — and everyone is heard.
Because in real life, there is no Cheshbon Nefesh, no way to subtract and divide what lies within our souls. Everything is woven together. We stand against the forces that wish to divide and to cut apart, against the powers that refuse to listen to the subtle voices of holy unity.
May this new year open our hearts to such listening, our hands to such weaving, and our lives to such holiness. Shana Tova.
