Letting Go, Keeping Close, Learning Anew
[1] Between Holding and Releasing
Over the past two years, we have gathered so many things including yellow ribbons, bracelets, notes, tape, and symbols of longing and love. Each one has carried meaning: a reminder of who we prayed for, what we lost, and what we held onto.
Now, as this long and painful chapter begins to close, we face the question of what to do with it all — not only the objects, but the memories, the emotions, and the stories they hold.
Judaism teaches that letting go is a sacred act. At Tashlich, we release what weighs us down into flowing water. Before Pesach, we burn the chametz to clear space for renewal. In genizah, we bury sacred writings that can no longer be used but cannot be discarded. These rituals teach us that release is a way to honor what was and make room for what can still become.
This exercise offers a way to make space. It helps us take what we’ve been carrying — as individuals and as a people — and gently sort through it: to notice what still gives life, what can be released, and what can teach us as we begin again.
[2] Teaching the Heart to Notice
Leah Goldberg’s “Teach Me, My God” is a plea to stay awake to life by blessing what fades, noticing what renews, and meeting each day with fresh eyes. Her words remind us that awareness itself can be an act of healing.
לַמְּדֵנִי, אֱלֹהַי / לאה גולדברג
לַמְּדֵנִי, אֱלֹהַי, בָּרֵךְ וְהִתְפַּלֵּל
עַל סוֹד עָלֶה קָמֵל, עַל נֹגַהּ פְּרִי בָּשֵׁל,
עַל הַחֵרוּת הַזֹּאת: לִרְאוֹת, לָחוּשׁ, לִנְשֹׁם,
לָדַעַת, לְיַחֵל, לְהִכָּשֵׁל.
לַמֵּד אֶת שִׂפְתוֹתַי בְּרָכָה וְשִׁיר הַלֵּל
בְּהִתְחַדֵּשׁ זְמַנְּךָ עִם בֹּקֶר וְעִם לֵיל,
לְבַל יִהְיֶה יוֹמִי הַיּוֹם כִּתְמוֹל שִׁלְשׁוֹם,
לְבַל יִהְיֶה עָלַי יוֹמִי הֶרְגֵּל.
Teach Me, My God / Leah Goldberg
Teach me, my God, to bless and to pray,
For the secret of a fading leaf, for the glow of a ripe fruit,
For the freedom to see, to feel, to breathe,
To know, to hope, to stumble.
Teach my lips a blessing and a song of praise,
As each new morning and night renews Your time,
So that my day today is not yesterday repeated,
And that my life does not grow dull with habit.
Goldberg’s poem invites us to notice what is passing and what endures — to look closely at the small, ordinary things that carry meaning. As we move through this time, that kind of noticing can help us understand what to hold and what to release.
Reflect:
- What parts of these two years still ask for your attention?
- What do you wish to carry forward with blessing, and what are you ready to let rest?
In the next section, we will turn this awareness into practice through an exercise of sorting and releasing, as a way to give shape to what we’ve lived and to begin again with intention.
[3] Sorting What We Carry
This activity helps us make meaning from the last two years by organizing the objects we collected and the moments we experienced. Invite participants to fill the table below, helping them sort through their experiences from the past two years.
| Objects from the past two years I embraced | Moments of pride I experienced | Moments of pain I experienced | Moments with my family or community | Experiences in Public |
| Yellow Ribbon | When the first hostages were released | Morning alerts of soldiers that were killed | Lighting memorial candles together | Walking past posters in public spaces, in different countries |
Once the table is complete, share it with others. Notice what patterns emerge and what emotions repeat across the groups.
[4] Circle of Release and Renewal
After the reflection, form a circle and invite participants to share what they want to keep from this time and what they’re ready to release by following these steps:
- Breathe: Take a few deep breaths together. Let silence fill the space.
- Release: Each person places one object (ribbons; dog tags; masking tape) or note that they are ready to let go of into the center, and shares if they’d like to bury, discard, or repurpose the object.
- Keep: Each person names one thing they want to hold onto from this time like a value, a strength, or a truth that feels essential.
- Closing: End with a moment of stillness, a shared breath, or a collective embrace. Some may choose to raise their voices together in order to seal what has been shared.
Leah Goldberg’s words invite us to stay awake to what is fragile and fleeting, and to recognize the quiet ways life renews itself. Through sorting and release, we make room for clarity, care, and the possibility of beginning again.