Tag Archives: Fitness

Running is Jewish

The Eternal God is my strength: God makes my feet like the deer’s, and lets me stride upon the Heights. – Habakuk 3:19

This time last year, Boston Marathon runners were coming over the finish line, having pounded 26.2 miles into their legs. We all know how last year’s Boston Marathon was different from other marathons–in this city and elsewhere. This year’s Boston Marathon is different from prior ones. And still, we celebrate today all those who cross that finish line.

Coming up on this first anniversary of last year’s tragedy, coinciding with the 127th running of the Boston Marathon, we now know as a broad Boston community that we are strong and resilient, and that we are better together. These lessons do not need to have come out of the bombings, because they are what a runner learns when he or she goes out to complete a marathon. The exhaustive emotionality of a marathon is something anyone who has finished that distance knows in their bodies and in their hearts. I’ve personally been feeling an echo of that exhaustion over the last few weeks as various news outlets have been running remembrances as we approach this first anniversary.Rabbi Hirsch completing the 2007 NYC 1/2 Marathon

This year’s Marathon also coincides with the conclusion of Passover, our festival of liberation. With those two things coming together (and because I had to figure out an elaborate path to get to shul for services. Darn road closures), I’ve been wondering about what our tradition has to say about running and fitness.

Looking through the available texts on this, two stand out.

The first is a talmudic conversation between Rav Huna and Abaye. It was reported that Rav Huna noted that “One who leaves the synagogue should not take large strides because it creates the impression that he is eager to leave” (BT B’rakhot 6b). Don’t run from the synagogue, lest someone think you’re running from God. But what about running to the synagogue? “It is a mitzvah to run and one is permitted to rush and take large strides,” says Abaye, for “one who eagerly enters a synagogue displays his enthusiasm to follow the path of God” (ibid).

When we run from something, it is looks like fear. When we run toward something, it displays enthusiasm and spiritual adroitness. Running toward goals, objectives, destinations, toward that finish line at 26.2, can be a spiritual practice if it enriches of our lives, enriches our relationships with one another, and enriches our connection to the Divine.

Maimonides expressed this notion in his Shemonah Perakim, “Man needs to subordinate his soul’s powers to one goal, namely, spiritual perfection. He should direct all of his actions, both when at motion and when at rest, and all of his conversation toward this goal so that none of his actions are in any way frivolous… The purpose of his body’s health is that the soul finds its instruments healthy and sound in order that it can be directed toward spiritual growth.” All that sweat we let out at the gym, all of the training miles we put into our legs, all the nutritional awareness, the scheduling to make it to that-special-yoga-class, and the like–those things are not for washboard abs and a strong body alone. We take care of our bodies (read: fitness is critical) because it is a pathway to spiritual perfection.

We are better people in the here and now when we put fitness and health as one of the top things on our personal priority list.

I have, at times, found this hard to keep in my heart. So I keep a reminder on my desk. There, sitting in a simple frame is an old advertisement from a running shoe company. The tag line is “We know that 26.2 is the short part.” Around that are a series of photos, each documenting different steps runners take to train and prepare for marathons. Those are the tough moments in marathons, not race day, itself.

For twenty-ish weeks, runners have been preparing for today. For the past year, our city has been preparing for this first anniversary. And as we celebrate the close of our festival of liberation, let’s recognize just how critical it is that we continue to care for our own health and fitness.

It’s good for the spirit.

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Maintaining Our Personal Sanctuaries

This week marks the anniversary of my becoming a bar mitzvah. Because of that, I have great affection for this week’s Torah portion, Terumah. For many, they see a blueprint of the Mishkan, the Tabernacle that the Israelites built for God in the wilderness. This portion is verse after verse of items and measurements and directions for construction.

We can read it as a guide for ourselves, as well. Reflected in the instructions that God gives to Moses and the Israelite community to build a Mishkan are messages for us, as we are called upon to build sanctuaries out of our own lives. Some sanctuaries are our organizations and our families, and sometimes sanctuaries are personal, internal spaces of self. In the dead of winter here in Boston, I’ve been thinking a lot about how we–ourselves–are sanctuaries to maintain and develop.

Always at this time of year, it is challenging to not get down in the dumps. Seasonal Affective Disorder seems to take root, and one more day on the treadmill at the gym sounds no fun at all. The living room couch has a permanent indent, and it seems like we would give anything to go on a nice walk or bike ride outside where we do not have to put on jackets. But we can find summer that lies within in the dead of winter. Winter is a state of mind. This season and this week’s Torah portion as a metaphor call us to actively work at building our own internal sanctuaries.

A similar message is reflected in our morning liturgy. Daily we give thanks for the sanctity of our bodies and the sanctity of our souls, recognizing that they–in their own right–are sanctuaries to be developed and maintained. “Praise to You, our Eternal God, Sovereign of the Universe, who formed the body with skill creating the body’s many pathways and openings,” we say. God as our Creator, has afforded us the opportunity to nurture and maintain ourselves. We are to be like Adam and Eve, who were instructed to tend and till God’s Garden of Eden. We do not stop there. After we thank God for the sanctity of our bodies, we note our souls: “My God, the soul that you have given me is pure. You created it, you fashioned it, and you placed it into me.” With each morning that we breath life anew, God grants us the opportunity to live out a day with a pure soul. We begin with a pure soul; what we do with that is a matter of choice. The decisions we make each day speak to how we tend and care for our inner selves.

When we build holy places and and holy time in our lives, we are fostering sanctuary for ourselves and our loved ones. “And let them make Me a sanctuary; that I may dwell among them,” God says to Moses in this week’s Torah portion. We are going to build sanctuaries; it is in our nature. And when we do, we allow for God to enter that space, as well.

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