Rabbi helps hikers find faith in the wilderness

Where do you find God?



Rabbi Mike Comins asks 14 followers to consider the question.



But they're all dressed in hiking boots and backpacks, with no trace of the attire required for a religious conversation in, say, a synagogue.

And that's the point.

Comins' sanctuary is not a synagogue, though as an ordained Reform rabbi he's comfortable and able to lead prayer from behind the bimah.

Instead, the Southern California native prefers to look for God in the salty, cool ocean breeze, the faint scent of eucalyptus pine, or the grandeur of mountain vistas.

"Those of us who find something sacred in nature have to struggle to relate that to our Judaism," he says.

And so Comins founded TorahTrek: Spiritual Wilderness Adventures in 2001. He leads day hikes and week-long retreats for people who want to learn how to merge Jewish prayer and the outdoors. Congregation Emanu-El in San Francisco and Chochmat Halev in Berkeley brought him to town to lead hikes for their congregants last weekend.

"Traditional prayers can be disconnected from our everyday life, and that is a tragedy," he says. "So how do we bring it back?"

He asks the hikers to close their eyes and focus only on their breathing. It's a simple meditation, he says. The chatty group falls silent as people walk past them on the Presidio's Coastal Trail. The warm wind rustles through the Monterey cypress overhead.

Comins instructs the group to focus half of their energy on breathing, and half on feeling connected to the earth beneath their feet.

Then he challenges them to focus half of their energy on their surroundings, and the other half on breathing and walking.

"There is so much we don't see," he says. "How rich it is to slow down and see the beauty where you are."

He asks the group to walk the next five minutes in silence. The idea is to work on a connection to the land and God within your own head, he says.

To cement this point, he asks the group to pair up. One person blindfolds the other and leads them along the trail and hillside.

"OK, shoot," says Aidan Reitzes, 20, to his blindfolded partner. Then, like a camera's shutter, the blindfold comes off and the person captures the scene.

"I get something out of sitting in synagogue, but for me, this is where it all starts," says Reitzes of San Francisco.

The 20-year-old goes to synagogue every Shabbat, alternating between Congregation Emanu-El, Sha'ar Zahav and Chabad's Richmond Torah Center. But he also spends weeknights meditating in the Rose Gardens at Golden Gate Park. Next year he plans to enroll at Prescott College in Arizona to study outdoor recreation, then hopes to start something like TorahTrek.

Comins grew up in Studio City, regularly going on camping trips in the Sierras with his family. He also went to synagogue and Jewish summer camp. But he didn't connect the dots between Judaism and nature until much later in life.

He made aliyah 25 years ago and in 1996 was ordained by Hebrew Union College. He worked as an Israeli desert guide for two years, then took a pulpit position at the synagogue in Jackson Hole, Wyo. There, he led spiritual hikes through the Grand Tetons.

The practice evolved into Torah Trek (www.torahtrek.com), and Comins began to work with other synagogues to lead their congregants on day hikes and retreats. His goal is to help Jews — often unaffiliated — connect ancient Jewish text and thought with the natural world.

"I think I'm about 10 years ahead of the cultural curve," says Comins, whose book, "A Wild Faith: Jewish Ways Into the Wilderness, Wilderness Ways Into Judaism," was published this year. "I'm not a prophet, but I know this is going to grow."

Near the end of the three-hour hike, Comins recites Hebrew prayers, explaining their significance.

Praised be the Eternal God, who has made me free.

Praised be the Eternal God, who has made me a Jew.

Praised be the Eternal God, who helps the blind to see.

"So I want you to make your own blessing, to give gratitude and maybe notice something you haven't noticed before," he says.

The hikers discuss their prayers in small groups. The rabbi asks everyone to share.

"Thank you God, who enables us to see the smallest plants and the largest mountains," says 37-year-old Sebastien Csapo.

The group says "amen" in unison.

"We've been taught that a 'God moment' is like fireworks going off, and that does happen occasionally," Comins says. "But when we focus on that, we miss God in all of the small things."