I Didn't Want to Nap Anyway!

I was never a napper. I always felt sluggish when I napped, so I avoided it at all costs. Then, I started graduate school and not-napping seemed more ridiculous than the alternative of resting during the day. Of course, the result was that I stay up until 2:30 in the morning, and my sleeping pattern is horrible, inconsistent, and rarely includes a restful Chavi upon rising (this is why I'm heading to a sleep clinic consult in the morning, too). After the past few weeks of stress, being busy, not sleeping, and general insanity, I was contemplating taking a nap this afternoon instead of doing some necessary work. And then? Right as I posed the question to Tuvia: Should I work or should I sleep? a sign arrived in my email inbox in the form of a Jewish Treats Daily Fact: "Nap Time." Check it out.

The world is moving at a hectic pace. People seem to always be busy--running from meeting to social engagement until they finally fall thoroughly exhausted into their beds at night. Indeed, modern sociologists look with considerable displeasure at the “busy-ness” of our society. Many people, undoubtably, crave a nap on a regular basis.

While napping on Shabbat is most certainly encouraged as a form of oneg Shabbat (enjoyment of Shabbat), the ancient sages felt differently about to napping during a weekday. In Talmud Sukkah 26b, it is written:

"Rav said: It is forbidden for a person to sleep by day longer than a horse's sleep. And how long is a horse's sleep? Sixty respirations....Abaye would doze off for as long as it takes to travel from Pumbedita to Bei Kuvei. Rav Yosef said in reference to him (Proverbs 6:9): ‘How long will you recline, O sluggard? When will you arise from your sleep?'”

Rather than sleeping through the night, as humans and many other mammals do, a horse rests for short intervals throughout the day. Thus, “How long is a horse's sleep? Sixty respirations.” The commentators debate exactly how long is sixty respirations...and whether the respirations referred to are those of a human (about 3 1/3 minutes) or those of a horse (about ½ hour). The accepted opinion is ½ hour. For if one sleeps/dozes for longer than ½ hour, one must ritually wash one's hands upon waking.

While the idea of a “power-nap” has become quite common in modern health manuals, the sages real worry was about wasting time. Since the most important activity in Jewish life is studying Torah, the extra time spent sleeping is regarded as time wasted from learning Torah.

This is a bummer to find out, but I'm probably better off in the long-run. I know it doesn't mean I cannot nap (I'm not that machmir), but it gives me some logic behind it all. Of course, I could just rest for a half-hour, but I've never been able to catnap. Never. Period. I'm a two-hour napper. Maybe that's why my sleep pattern sucks. Thanks Jewish Treats!

A Bedtime Shema?

At Sushi Shabbat on Friday there was a guest speaker who chose to discuss the Bedtime Shema to the crowd of 20s and 30s. Now, I'd like to start by saying this past Shabbat reminded me why I loathe going to such events. The lack of, well, seriousness irritates me. Or maybe it's just the lack of seriousness by certain people. Either way, I don't know if I'll show up at another one. I just don't have the patience anymore. But that is neither here nor there.

I was always of the understanding that before one goes to bed, they're required to say the Shema (שמע ישראל יהוה אלהינו יהוה אחד) This comes from Deuteronomy 6:6-7 -- "These words which I command you this day shall be upon your heart ... when you lie down and when you rise up."

I did not know, however, that there was actually a specific set of additional texts for the Bedtime Shema (BS) -- K'riat Shema al haMitah. So imagine my surprise when we got the handout and read through the BS (pardon the crappy acronym).

Master of the universe, I hereby forgive anyone who angered or antagonized me or who sinned against me — whether against my body, my property, my honor or against anything of mine; whether he did so accidentally, willfully, carelessly, or purposely; whether through speech, deed, thought, or notion; whether in this transmigration or another transmigration — I forgive every Jew. May no man be punished because of me. May it will be Your will, HASHEM, my God and the God of my forefathers, that I may sin no more. Whatever sins I have done before You, may You blot out in Your abundant mercies, but not through suffering or bad illnesses. May the expressions of my mouth and the thoughts of my heart find favor before You, HASHEM, my Rock and my Redeemer.

On a first, simple read, there are myriad disturbing aspects of this. The first one that struck me was the "I forgive every Jew." What about everyone else? Secondly the "whether in this transmigration or another transmigration" struck me as particularly odd, as it implies incarnations, which is most certainly not a necessarily Jewish belief. Then there's the idea that for the sins committed during the day, G-d would punish one "through suffering or bad illnesses" -- I've always understood that there is not a cause and effect relationship, hence books like "Why Bad Things Happen to Good People." Also noted is "whatever sins I have done before you," which in truth muddles what the idea of sin in Judaism is (it should be understood that sin is what one does not do, such as not speaking out when witnessing abuse or mistreatment, not what one particularly DOES).

The BS is to be followed by the Hamapil, and after this is said, one is not to speak until rising in the morning. Many, though, will remove G-d's name from the Hamapil for fear of conversing post-prayer, and this is sufficiently acceptable from what I can tell. Though for those (like me) with a rough time sleeping, are permitted to read, recite the Shema over and over, or to read a sefer or think Torah thoughts. It's important to note, then, that the BS and the Hamapil should be read together, because the BS itself leaves out some other significant things one might expect to hear in a prayer, such as prayer to encourage peaceful sleep and healthy awakening, not to mention blessing the family. Thus, the Hamapil says,

Blessed are You, HASHEM, our God, KING of the universe, who casts the bonds of sleep upon my eyes and slumber upon my eyelids. May it be Your will, HASHEM, my God and the God of my forefathers, that You lay me down to sleep in peace and rise me erect in peace. May my ideas, bad dreams, and bad notions not confound me; may my offspring be perfect before You, and may You illuminate my eyes lest I die in sleep, Who illuminates the pupil of the eye. Blessed are You, Hashem, Who illuminates the entire world with His glory.

The BS, therefore, seems negative, almost begging, pleading. Whereas the Hamapil emphasizes G-d's blessings. Yet, there is never thanks given for the day in either portion. Why do we not give thanks for the blessing of the day? Instead, we only ask for forgiveness and apologize. Should there not be thanks? Or is it implied? There is also much more to the BS, which can be found here (it includes various Psalms, etc.).

According to a rabbi at OHR.edu, "Rav Yehuda Segal, the late Rosh Yeshiva in Manchester, used to actually fall asleep while reciting the bedtime shema, and he would wake from time to time and carry on exactly from the place he left off!"

I find myself eternally curious when the Bedtime Shema was developed. So I'm searching the Internet, far and wide, trying to figure out who codified this "set" of prayers, when it was formally settled, etc. Maybe this is something for graduate school, who knows. But there's a little write up about how it helped one man sleep better over here. Then there's Chabad, that encourages getting into the BS routine. About.com tells me that the practice goes back to Talmudic times and was meant to protect the sleeper from nighttime fears and dangers. And finally, there's the Jewish Heritage Magazine  Online that quotes Talmudic scholar Adin Steinslatz saying essentially the same thing as About.com, but provides the precise sources for the arisal of the BS. They are BT Berakoth 4b (which can be seen here) and 60a (found here).

Yet even looking through these, I'm not gathering how precisely the words I have in my handout (aside from the actual Shema) were codified. There is plenty of conversation about when it is to be said and the disagreement therein (Rashi seems to have gotten pretty upset about this), but these words were composed by someone, yes?

Anyhow, perhaps that's for another time and place. The search continues!

She talks aloud, to herself, and hopes that G-d can hear.

Maybe, she says out loud to herself while trying to fall asleep, what I really needed to wake back up and smile again, is this empty bed.

Maybe, she says out loud to herself turning over, adjusting her pillows, and settling in, I needed to have this time to talk aloud, to air my grievances and pose my questions, to speak to G-d or my ancestors or the fan humming above.

Maybe.

I find myself talking out loud to myself a lot while laying in bed trying to fall asleep. It started in my early years, as a young child, when I struggled with the idea of death. My tears and out-loud conversations to no one and someone were welcomingly quelled when I felt an overwhelming sense of peace within me. And ever since then, when I am most ill at ease, feeling like I need something to calm me or aid me and give me strength, I do this exercise. I speak out loud. Most of the time, I am connecting -- not praying -- to G-d. I'm just talking. Posing questions and making suggestions about why things are the way they are and discussing the questions people have been asking for centuries and throughout generations -- the how's, the why's, the what's.

The thing is, when you share a bed with someone, you can't do this. I mean, I'm sure that there could grow to be this understanding that you talking out loud is your personal conversation and that the other person should pop in some earplugs or wait to come to bed or something. But it seems awkward and uncomfortable. I don't know how it would work, and I don't know if it will.

For much of the past year and a half, my bed was shared with another individual, and I would whisper the sh'ma quietly, into my pillow, like a secret. I never spoke aloud in my way of private conversations. My head got busy and I'd have circling thoughts, unable to release them into the air in the room.

But it isn't the same. Releasing words into the surrounding space makes them quiet. It's like writing down your thoughts, it creates this strange sense of calm to know that they're no longer in your head, but are someplace, concrete and still.

Anyhow. I find myself speaking aloud each night, not searching for a divine sign or anything. Just wanting to get the words out, to calm my mind, to ease my soul. And it reminds me of how I felt as a child, and I pray every day for that kind of calm. That washed-over feeling of silence and peace.

Books! Books!

I became a member of the Seminary Co-Op, which entitles me to 10 percent off all purchases. It isn't much, but it's something. I promptly purchased two books: "Women and Jewish Law" and "Salonica," which I had wanted since last summer when I saw it at Kramerbooks in Washington. Here's to new books!

On a side note: The past three nights I have slept, solidly and soundly, throughout the night. This is abnormal (for those of you who know me), because getting even four good hours of sleep a night is rare for me. Amen for the sleep, though I think it might be related to either the antibiotics or allergy pills I'm taking. If that's the case, though, I suppose I should welcome it ... nu?