By Rabbi Debra J. Robbins
Rosh Chodesh Tammuz
The new Hebrew month of Tammuz begins on June 26, just 6 days after we mark the summer solstice, the day of the year with the most hours of sunlight. These are the brightest days of the year and this summer especially we need the extra light. We need it in the saferooms and shelters across Israel as missiles fall. We need it in Gaza where the Israeli hostages remain, and innocent children suffer from hunger and illness. We need the light to shine more brightly in our country especially in the shadows where the vulnerable of our society are seek shelter.
Our tradition teaches, even in the shadows of uncertain times, when we feel anxious, and even in the deepest dark, the sparks of God’s holiness, tiny flames of love, courage and creativity glow. These sparks are glimmers of hope for our path, they inspire us to offer blessing, for the Light, the Hope that abides.
Me and My Shadow, A Reflection for Focus for Rosh Chodesh Tammuz
עשָָׂה֣†י†רֵָ֭ח†לְמוֹעֲדִ֑ים†שֶׁ֗֝מֶשׁ†ידַָע֥†מְבוֹאֽוֹ׃
God made a moon for seasons;
The sun knows the time to go in.
My shadow is loyal.
It mirrors my steps on the sidewalk,
my stance in the sand.
It distorts my image,
smooths the rough edges,
disguises the details.
With my shadow I am never alone,
God’s light is always with me.
Except in Tammuz,
on the solstice,
when the sun is at its peak,
when the day (in the Northern Hemisphere)
is filled with heat,
and so much light,
even shadows take shelter.
My instinct too
is to hide.
It’s too hot, too bright, too intense
without my shadow,
the Ever-Present Light
that is always
beside me, behind me, before me.
But then my eyes adjust.
It seems the sun stands still,
and I wonder,
does it really know the time to go in?
Slowly I see,
with courage like Joshua,
as the sun hung in the sky above for a full day.
His battle was real by the walls of Jericho,
and in Tammuz mine are real too:
an ever-growing ego and guilty conscience,
greedy desires and selfish inclinations.
I yearn to be like Betzalel,
skilled craftsman of the desert Tabernacle,
whose name affirms, I am “in the shadow of God,” always.
Maybe the sun does know the time to go in,
and it is now.
The Light finds a home:
a tiny space for a glowing spark to dwell,
in my Mishkan,
the holy place that is my body,
my life.
It’s good the sun knows its way
since I don’t always know mine.
In the brightness of Tammuz I see,
secure,
even without my shadow,
I bless the Creator of Light.
הַמְּאִירָה†לָאָֽרֶץ†וְלַדָּרִים†עָלֶֽיהָ
בְּרַחֲמִים†וּבְטוּבָהּ
מְחַדֶּֽשֶׁת†בְּ†ׇ†כל־יוֹם†תָּמִיד
מַעֲשֵׂה†בְרֵאשִׁית∫
The Illuminator lights up the world
and all of her inhabitants with mercy,
and in Her goodness,
each day renews
the act of creation.
Rabbi Debra J. Robbins serves at Temple Emanu-El in Dallas and is Chair of the Vaad HaMikveh of the Rabbinic Association of Greater Dallas.
“Me and My Shadow” is from New Each Day: A Spiritual Practice for Reading Psalms (CCAR Press, 2024) by Rabbi Debra J. Robbins. Used by permission. Order the book: http://neweachday.ccarpress.org. She is also the author of Opening Your Heart with Psalm 27: A Spiritual Practice for the Jewish New Year (CCAR Press, 2019).