A Moving Sanctuary
Birth. Death. B’nei mitzvot. Weddings.
These are the familiar events that punctuate the peaks and valleys of our life cycle. For each, we seek sanctuary—a place of unity and celebration, or in more unsettling times, a shelter from the storm of emotions. Sanctuary is a space to elevate the moment, separating the everyday from the holy, and let the divine rest within.
For me and some of my closest Beth Emet friends, there is another event that brings kindred souls a break from the routine, provides accommodations for emotional release, and illustrates the power of sanctuary. In this case, the cycle is quite literal. Nearly every summer for the nearly the last decade, a group of friends who enjoy riding bicycles have banded together for an informal, unofficial riding retreat.
Self-proclaimed as the “BE Biker Babes,” the riders have organized on their own
—n
ot as a part of any synagogue offering
—
eager to muscle their way along bike trails in Wisconsin, Michigan, and around Chicago. When this pedal posse does ride, the BE Biker Babes head out with a dash of bravado and good humor. Between the noshing and the chatting and, yes, the eventual riding, this casual gathering is all about the community of friends.
Historically a wandering people, we Jews have become very good at traveling and taking our tabernacle with us. The tabernacle we build comes from the gifts we offer to one another. Sometimes, the gift we share is simply time, the time to talk and the time to listen.
This ragtag sisterhood on two wheels is a far cry from the synagogue sisterhood of my mother—or is it?
Dor L’Dor
. From generation to generation, we teach one another through our actions how to interact, to connect, and to care. Our essential human desires are always the same. We are driven by our need to love and be loved. When I flash back to Technicolor images of my mom in her teased hairdo, plotting her next Mahjong move while she and her sisterhood pals plan their next fundraiser, I see that wish fulfilled.
In step with the likely motivation of previous generations of women, the biking retreats began as a way for a group of woman with young children to steal back some time for themselves, with one another, and
—
in less clearly stated terms
— with something bigger than all of us. Certainly, these were goals worthy of the Matriarchs, not to mention our modern day Leah's, Rebecca's, and Sarah's.
That said, I can’t imagine my mother’s generation pocketing their packs of filtered Parliaments and shifting gears for a weekend getaway. Indeed, in my parents’ modern orthodox shul, bike riding was considered a breach of Shabbos. Still today, many orthodox rabbis consider bike riding akin to working; you never know when a chain could pop off and you’d have to fix it, as one interpretation went. And, the fact that our chosen cyclists include our rabbi
—
a woman at that
—
oy gevalt
!
Though the venues change year to year, the BE Biker Babes’ rituals are usually the same. We load up with snacks, trail mix, brownies, granola bars, and the caloric like, and hit the road early on a Saturday. After 25+ miles for the average rider and many more for the hard core cyclists, we make our way back to an inn with red faces, sore backsides, and tired grins. Then, it’s time for a shower and maybe a massage, followed by a leisurely dinner.
After too much food and even more filling conversation, it is time for the next course—Havdalah. We bring out the braided blue and white candle, the scent-filled spice box, and the silver Kiddush cup. The early evening air is warm and sticky, the crickets offer a rhythmic hum, and the brightest stars begin to dot the sky. We gather in a circle to recite the four blessings and sing
Shalom Aleichem
as a farewell to the Shabbat bride. Crowned by the silhouette of nearby trees’ gnarled branches against the sky, we become the guardians of our sanctuary. We let in the eternal, and we welcome the new week.
We are in South Haven; we are in Algonquin; we are in Union Pier, New Glarus, Madison, and Cedarburg. The physical location does not matter. By gathering and very intentionally marking the moment, we have elevated the everyday and created a space to connect us. Fortified by the sanctuary we create as a community of friends united by the values of our synagogue, the bike trip becomes a life cycle event on our Beth Emet-inspired Jewish journey.
If you’d like to share your thoughts with the congregation on what sanctuary means to you - a time in which you felt like a sanctuary dwelled within you, or how we can extend sanctuary to those who need it, feel free to reach out to
Ellen Blum Barish
and
David Barish
.
