"Coming to Yom Kippur through yirah is like a mafia sit down with an IRS auditor"

I

looked around, trying to “read” the room the way Cliff Grantes says we should, looking for the signs of engagement — eye contact, straight head, loose limbs. A lot of women had shown up to this Aseres Yemei Teshuvah Panel. The view from the dais was unforgiving.

Fifteen super-short sheitels on young women. Must be the new trend. I touched my own sheitel, which grazed my shoulder, then shrugged and leaned forward. Better listen, almost my turn. Blah blah blah blah, I was sure she was saying something beautiful and inspiring, but there were so many big words, I lost her. No worries about repeating her, at least.

The words Rosh Hashanah echoed suddenly from the mic, must be an audio blip. The rebbetzin speaking — I was pretty sure she was from Shaarei Ohr — jumped, tittered, then continued. Was Rosh Hashanah really over? It was all such a blur.

“And now we turn to Rebbetzin Chana Schwartzberg,” the moderator said, looking at me. The Shaarei Ohr Rebbetzin passed me the mic.

I sat straight. My turn to sound smart. What were we up to? I hoped it was something I’d gone over with Avrumi.

“Just reminding the audience that the question we’re addressing now is ‘How do you hope your community will grow in the coming year?’ ” The moderator was addressing the crowd but she might as well have directed it to me. Phew, saved for the moment.

I stifled the throat-clearing urge, Cliff literally loses it if we dare even purse our lips together. The mic felt sweaty in my hand. Were the other rebbetzins nervous too? Just start already, Chana. You prepped this answer. I adjusted my posture again.

“I hope this year we each bring a little more silly in our lives. Y’know, turn the music up in your car and dance along.” I demonstrated with jazz hands. “Until you realize the lady in the car next to you is watching and thinks you’re crazy. When you let yourself be silly, you let yourself be. It’s an act of self-acceptance — it says none of us are perfect, look how nutso we are. And when we accept ourselves, we end up being more forgiving to everyone around us.” I paused to let my words settle.

“Go look in a mirror and make a bunch of funny faces, it’ll make you laugh so fast. Do it with someone else and you won’t be breathing for the next hour. It’s a small exercise and sounds silly, I know, but it makes a difference.

“And, of course, all of this comes back to our relationship with Hashem. Everyone should be able to love Hashem and feel His love. Some people are already there. But for those of us who aren’t, loosening up, relaxing, can help us to get there. Our ego, our obsession on self-image, and how we appear all interfere with an honest self-assessment. If we can come before Hashem honestly, we can hear Him better. Like Rav Nachman says, one cannot be b’simchah without a mili d’shtusa.” I picked the mic up and stood, walking to the front of the dais. We weren’t supposed to, but Cliff says people are more comfortable with speakers who move, and besides I literally couldn’t sit anymore. I hoped the other rebbetzins didn’t mind too much.