Winter as a Spiritual Practice
by Rabbi Shoshana Kaminsky
On Tuesday night, as I cleaned off my car for the fifth time that day while enduring a temperature of 16 degrees and falling, I resolved to write a sermon about winter as a spiritual practice. A lot of people view the cultivation of inner spirituality as an easily accessible consumer product, as simple to obtain as an order from Amazon. The opposite is true. Becoming more spiritual beings means actively rejecting the ways we’ve looked at the world and even the way we are, and that is hard work. Just like surviving a South Bend winter! Let’s do a bit of exploring together.
I’m going to begin with the assumption here that winter is something to be suffered through rather than something to enjoy. For sure, there are moments of delight: there is very little that is more pleasant than watching the snow fall outside. But that’s only true when I’m inside—not when I’m outside or driving through it. There are sensible steps we can take to reduce our suffering, in particular making sure we’ve got enough layers on. But there are still going to be moments when we’re just cold and possibly even wet.
Rabbi David Hartman wrote an essay on Jewish approaches to suffering for the compilation Contemporary Jewish Religious Thought. I think his basic reasoning comes close to capturing how many Jews confront suffering: we do not try to understand why it’s happening, but instead focus on trying to find meaning within it. This approach works more easily in some situations than others. Many of our fellow Jews are currently enduring unimaginable suffering, whether it’s because they’ve lost their homes and synagogues in Southern California or because they are desperately awaiting the return of their loved ones from captivity in Gaza. I would never presume to tell them how or even if there is meaning to be found in what they’re going through. Luckily for us, winter is a much less bitter pill to swallow. It is up to us to find ways to find meaning and purpose through the relatively small amount of discomfort we’re experiencing.
The first step to feel compassion for those who are less fortunate than us. We know that this is the time of year when many families are forced to choose whether to buy food, purchase medication, or keep the heat in their homes at relatively comfortable levels. One wintertime spiritual practice is to open our hearts to those facing those impossible choices at this time of year. Judaism reminds us that feeling for them is not enough; we need to be prepared to open our wallets to help ease their pain. And just a gentle reminder that we are keenly, painfully aware of the victims of wildfires in Southern California, that does not alter the fact that there are many thousands of people in South Bend who are also experiencing tremendous difficulties.
Another spiritual practice we might consider is to see how the wintry weather offers us opportunities for reflection. I spend a lot of time cleaning off my car. I went to the gym on Tuesday, and by the time I came back outside, I needed to clean my car off again. We live in a world which is obsessed with keeping us busy and occupied all the time. So the obvious solution to how to spend those five or more minutes cleaning off my car is to put in my earbuds and catch up on a podcast or listen to an audio book. Instead, I can choose to use that time just to be. I can focus all of my attention on brushing the snow, first from the top of the car, and then from the back and then the sides and then the front and just be in that experience. I’m really lucky to live in an apartment complex where I don’t need to shovel, but you could do the same thing if you have to clean your sidewalk. Rather than resenting the time involved, think of it as the gift of unstructured time.
Re-framing our wintertime experiences is something we can do at other times as well. When we take that first step out on a 10 degree day, we can experience that feeling of bitter cold as an inner wake up call, as something that reminds us of what it means to be truly alive. On those occasions when we hit an icy patch and briefly lose control of our cars, we can ponder the fact that so little of our lives is actually under our control. Winter offers us many moments to be alert to our lives and our world, rather than just feeling resentful and grumpy.
Finally, there are the opportunities winter gives us to experience the world of nature in a different way. I personally do this mostly from inside my apartment looking out at the patio. I’ve now got two bird feeders, a suet feeder, and a bird bath with an electric de-icer. I’ve started a life list, which so far includes only the birds that come to take advantage of my hospitality. The list is quite short, but it’s slowly growing. Watching the birds has been a wonderful addition to my life, and especially at this season of discovery. On Tuesday, European starlings suddenly showed up and tried to muscle their way into the bird feeders that were too small for them. On Wednesday, I saw blue jays for the first time since fall. I take note of how dark-eyed juncos almost always peck at the fallen seed on the ground even though they’re easily small enough to use the feeders. How sparrows seem to travel in packs. How cardinals perch on top of the feeders and on nearby branches before landing on the snow to look for food. How the woodpeckers hang upset down on the suet feeders to get the biggest fatty mouthfuls. I get so much pleasure out of watching the birds that I don’t mind slogging out into the cold and snow to top up the feeders and change the water. Well, I don’t mind much!
You may have your own winter joys, whether it’s cross-country skiing or enjoying your dog skipping through the snow. Any activity that brings you happiness can also be a spiritual exercise. It’s all a matter of how you approach those moments in your life. With the right attitude, with patience, and with a bit of joy, we can all make it through together.
Shabbat shalom!