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Integral Kabbalah for the Days of Awe Class #1: Keter – Oneness “Shofar Chant”  The Baal Shem Tov once told of a vision he had: “I was traveling to paradise, and great throngs of people went with me. But the closer got closer to Gan Eden (the Garden of Eden), the more of them disappeared. When I entered and walked through the Garden, there were only a few people left. Finally, I came to the Tree of Life, and as I stood beside Her and looked around, I seemed to be alone…” The mystical journey is a return to Oneness, to a fundamental shift in our relationship to Reality through which we can see that there is, in fact, only One Thing. While this realization may be accompanied by all sorts of perceptual upheaval, radical overthrowing of conceptual maps, and even paranormal experience, it need not be. The ultimate Oneness is, in fact, not remote or inaccessible; it is the simple fact of this moment, grasped in its Unity: וְיָדַעְתָּ הַיּום וַהֲשֵׁבתָ אֶל לְבָבֶךָ כִּי יהוה הוּא הָאֱלהִים בַּשָּׁמַיִם מִמַּעַל וְעַל הָאָרֶץ מִתָּחַת אֵין עוד Know today (be present) and return to your heart (offer your attentiveness), that Hashem Hu HaElohim – Existence Itself is the Divine – in the heavens above and on the earth below, Ayn Od – there is nothing else. - Deuteronomy 4:39 There is nothing but the Divine, which is to say, Reality or Existence Itself is already One; all that is necessary is yadata hayom – know today – meaning, bring your awareness into connection with the present. Give your attention heartfully to Reality as it appears. For just as a movie screen seems invisible when the mind is absorbed in the drama of the projected movie, but becomes completely visible simply by shifting our attention toward it, so too the Oneness of everything that is appearing right now may seem invisible, but only because we have not yet found the path to focus upon it. But… כִּֽי־קָר֥וֹב אֵלֶ֛יךָ הַדָּבָ֖ר מְאֹ֑ד Ki karov elekha hadavar me’od – for this Thing is very close to you! - Deuteronomy 30:14 The moment we call to mind Its Presence, It appears. Everything we perceive already exists in Its “Light.” This “Light,” this Oneness of Being in which everything participates, is Keter, the first sefirah on the Tree of Life. It is the highest, yet also the simplest level of perception there is, wholly accessible right now. And yet, because of its simplicity and constancy, it can be difficult to grasp… not really difficult to know it, but difficult to know that you know it. The Integral Kabbalah Tree of Life glyph can be helpful in defining a path toward bringing the Reality of the One out of the background and into lived experience:  In this version, the sefirah of Keter is on top, with five lines proceeding from it and connecting it with five other sefirot. These five lines represent the five otyot: א ט ח ז כ – kaf, zayin, het, tet, and aleph. These letters offer five pathways into the unitive consciousness of Keter that can be tread either separately or in sequence. In sequence, they progress like this: KAF K’vod/Kavanah – Majesty/Intentionality “Shining Presence” כ Kaf is the power of decision to be fully with this moment as it is. It is the actualization of consciousness to shine unflinchingly into the truth of however Reality appears, whatever form It might take. This wakefulness is accomplished in an instant, but once it is accomplished, it is easily thwarted by the constant stream of thoughts that blossom forth in the mind. This brings is to the second step: ZAYIN Zekher – Remembrance “Cutting Away Distraction” ז Zayin, which means “weapon” or “sword” means “cutting through” the dramatic pull of thought to the underlying Being-ness. Since thought is an unceasing stream, this requires a constant re-membering, a refusal to be lulled into the dream world of the mind and to shine awareness into the space of the moment. But, this vigilance easily devolves into an aggressive attempt to control the mind, which is the opposite of Presence and Oneness; to remedy this tendency, we come to the next letter: HET Hanun – Compassionate “Presence With” ח While zayin is the vigilance necessary to pierce through the dream-world of the mind, het is the inner feel of Presence once the dream world has been pierced. Het is the soft quality of listening, of patience, of “presence-with” whatever arises, even paradoxically the presence of thought. It is the expression of “I am here with you” – it is the inner “I” that can truly be “here.” Through the deliberate expression of compassion through “presence-with,” we can come to know the inherent quality of awareness itself, which brings us to the next letter: TET Tov, Ta’am – Goodness, Taste “The Taste of Being” ט After bringing forth sustained presence through the compassionate quality of het by turning attention outward, we can then taste the attention itself – what does it taste like? What is the flavor of our own essence, the consciousness that we are, beneath all the forms? One way to describe it is that it is the ta’am of tov, the “taste of goodness.” This is tet – it is the noticing that beneath the content of experience, there is this basic goodness of simply being. Which brings us to the final (and yet first) letter: ALEPH Akhdut – the Unity of Life “Will-ingness, Equanimity” א When we know, experientially, the underlying goodness with no opposite; when we take refuge not in the world of shifting things and conditions but in the inherent miracle of Being, there then arises the possibility of whole-heartedly saying “Yes” to life. We know that, in the world of experience, bitterness and sweetness form a Whole. We know that joy and pain are inseparable. Ordinarily, a person endures this knowledge through unconscious denial and conscious self-distraction. But in knowing the underlying goodness, this becomes no longer necessary. Aleph is being willing to take the basic risk of life every day; it is fully saying “yes” to both bitterness and sweetness, to joy and sorrow, because all opposites appear in the open space of awareness which is its own good, which is truly lishmah, for its own sake. But, that is not the end. A life that comes to know its own Oneness, that is grounded in that Oneness, must then forge that Oneness in the world of multiplicity; the Oneness, if it is to become a way, rather than just an experience, must be embodied. There is a hint in the parshah: אִישׁ֩ כִּֽי־יִדֹּ֨ר נֶ֜דֶר לַֽיהוָ֗ה אֽוֹ־הִשָּׁ֤בַע שְׁבֻעָה֙ לֶאְסֹ֤ר אִסָּר֙ עַל־נַפְשׁ֔וֹ לֹ֥א יַחֵ֖ל דְּבָר֑וֹ כְּכָל־הַיֹּצֵ֥א מִפִּ֖יו יַעֲשֶֽׂה׃ If a person vows a vow to the Divine or swears an oath to forbid something to one’s soul, they shall not empty their word; everything that comes from their mouth, so shall they do…
We can say one thing and do another, and our lack of integrity doesn’t affect the Oneness of Being in any way. But, why would we say one thing and do another? Because we lack confidence in the Oneness; we lack integrity because we don’t trust the inner okay-ness, and so we try to manipulate things. Whether or not we have integrity doesn’t affect the Oneness, but it does affect our realization of the Oneness, and perhaps more importantly, it affects other people’s realization of the Oneness. Lo yakhel devaro – Don’t empty your word! When our words are empty, we also commit hilul Hashem – the “emptying” of the Divine Name, because we demonstrate our lack of confidence in the Oneness. But, when we bring together the word and the deed, then that Oneness not only is, not only is realized, but is fulfilled. In the Musaf prayer of Rosh Hashanah we find: עָלָה אֱלֹהִים בִּתְרוּעָה יי בְּקוֹל שׁוֹפָר Alah Elohim Bit’ruah, Adonai B’kol Shofar The Divine is elevated by the blast, Existence with the Sound of the Shofar! On Rosh Hashanah there is the ritual of sounding the shofar, the ram’s horn, one hundred times. Each sounding is preceded by the calling of the particular sound to be made. The t’ruah, which means “blast,” is one of these special sounds. Elohim is a plural word for a singular Divinity, hinting that the Divine is the Oneness behind the multiplicity. Alah means “elevate,” or “transcend.” So, we can read: Alah Elohim Bit’ruah – The Transcendent Unity behind all forms is called forth… Adonai is the pronounced Name, but the actual written name is י–ה–ו–ה, which means “Being” or “Existence.” The kol shofar, the “sound of the ram’s horn,” is the actualization of the Transcendent Unity in the ritual act of “calling” and then “sounding.” In this way, the calling and then sounding of the shofar is an expression of the unified life, of saying what you mean, and doing what you say. In this first of ten weeks counting down to the t’ruah of Rosh Hashanah, may we come to recognize the Unity that Is ever more deeply, and may we bring that Unity to fulfilment through integrity in our words and actions… Special Note to all wishing to go deeper with Integral Kabbalah:
Six week class begins August 5th for establishing yourself in a heightened state of Presence and Inner Freedom through the Ten Sefirot and Twenty-Two Hebrew Letters : Mastering Presence Applying the Ten Sefirot and Twenty-Two Hebrew Letters Meditation Practice Six Wednesday Nights, August 5th – September 9th 6:00 pm PT, 9:00 pm ET This course is free and available to all Torah of Awakening upper level members. If you are not yet a member, learn more and sign up for a free month by clicking the link below. After you sign up, you will be given the opportunity to upgrade and join in the Mastering Presence course that begins August 5th. Learn More and Free Month of Membership HERE. If you are already a member and would like to attend this course, email me and I can help you get upgraded.
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Recently I received this question:
I am struggling with something ...I have done a lot of things in my life but I still don’t know what my purpose is. Do you have any thoughts about how to figure that out? What a wonderful and core question! Like many spiritual inquiries, an answer requires exploration at a number of levels: From a traditional Jewish point of view, our purpose is to do our part in the purpose of creation in general, which is to reveal Divine Reality in the world. We participate in this singular goal, in turn, on two different levels: First, we participate simply by existing. Without doing anything in particular, even without having any knowledge of it, we are always already a part of the process of Divine revelation in the world; we cannot do otherwise. Our existence is part of Existence; we play the role in the unfolding of Reality that we are given, whether we understand it or not. But, second, we can also participate intentionally. The whole point of the spiritual path is not to merely play our role unconsciously, but to be active participants in the process, to become “partners with the Divine” in a sense. We do this by committing to a path of Torah and avodah, “learning and spiritual practice,” as well as gemilut hasadim, “acts of kindness.” With these there are both internal and external aspects; for example, doing the mitzvah of lighting Shabbat candles on Friday evening are an external example of avodah, while connecting to the Divine in meditation (devakut) would be an internal example. There is also a way in which our knowledge of our participation in the purpose of Existence unintentionally can become part of how we participate intentionally: Ordinarily, we tend to see our lives in relation to our own experience; we judge things based on how they look and seem to us. But when we understand that there is a deeper process going on that is beyond the scope of our mental maps and immediate perception, we can surrender to that Bigger Picture and practice dedicating all parts of our lives to the service of the One. This “sanctification of the ordinary,” and even sanctification of things we might consider unholy, is a core practice of Hasidism and it has the power to liberate us from the angst that can arise from the question of meaning and purpose, by transforming whatever we happen to be doing into a means toward Divine fulfillment. All of this, however, is part of a general understanding of purpose, applicable equally to anyone who cares to ask the question. But there is also a level that is specific and unique to each individual: There is a story that Rabbi Baer of Radoshitz once asked his rebbe, Rabbi Yaakov Yitzhak (the “Seer of Lublin”) to show him one general way to fulfill his purpose. The Seer answered: “It is impossible to tell people one general way. One person fulfills their purpose through the teachings, another through prayer, another through fasting, still another through eating. Everyone should look within and see which way their heart draws them, and then choose that path with all their strength.” There are two key points to this teaching. The first and more obvious one is that our purpose is given to us partially by our inclinations; we don’t need to look externally for our purpose, because we are already drawn toward some things and away from others. The second and less obvious point is that, after you discern your own inclinations, you must choose them as your purpose. Your own power of choice is not something separate and unrelated to the discovery of your purpose; we must use our full power of decision and commitment to say, “I choose such-and-such as my purpose.” We can see this truth hidden in the story of Moses and the Burning Bush. On the surface, it looks like God simply gives him his purpose by telling him to free the Israelites. But actually, Moses already knew about the suffering of his brethren in Egypt; God wasn’t telling him anything new. On this deeper level, the “burning bush” is really a symbol of his own waking up to the power of decisiveness. This decisiveness certainly has an element that comes from beyond the self; Moses didn’t “choose” to be an Israelite brought up in the palace of Pharaoh. His situation was given. But, he still needed to choose his path with his whole being – that’s what it means to look into the fire of the burning bush; that’s what it means to be commanded; that’s what it means to discover your unique purpose: it is both receiving and choosing in one. There is a hint in the parshah: פִּֽינְחָ֨ס בֶּן־אֶלְעָזָ֜ר בֶּן־אַהֲרֹ֣ן הַכֹּהֵ֗ן הֵשִׁ֤יב אֶת־חֲמָתִי֙ מֵעַ֣ל בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל בְּקַנְא֥וֹ אֶת־קִנְאָתִ֖י בְּתוֹכָ֑ם וְלֹא־כִלִּ֥יתִי אֶת־בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל בְּקִנְאָתִֽי׃ “Pinhas, son of Elazar, son of Aaron the priest, has turned back My wrath from the Children of Israel with his passion for My passion among them, so that I did not consume the Children of Israel in My passion.” לָכֵ֖ן אֱמֹ֑ר הִנְנִ֨י נֹתֵ֥ן ל֛וֹ אֶת־בְּרִיתִ֖י שָׁלֽוֹם׃ “Therefore I say, behold! I grant him My covenent of peace!” This strange passage comes in the aftermath of the episode in which the Midianite women seduce many Israelite men into an idolatrous orgy. At the hight of it, Pinhas grabs a spear and executes an Israelite man and Midianite women in sexual embrace, thus appeasing “God’s wrath” and saving many Israelite lives. In our times, when violence resulting from religious zelotry is not something we tend to value, this passage can be a difficult vessel for spiritual teaching. But we must look below the surface: What is idolatry? In the Zohar and in many other Kabbalah texts, idolatry is understood not primarily as the worship of statues, but as the recognition of the sacred dimension in something as separate from its Divine Source. For example, let’s say you recognize the sacredness of a particular flower. Good! But then, a landscaper guy comes along and cuts it down with a weedwacker accidentally, and you murder the landscaper guy because he cut down your sacred flower. That would be idolatry, not because the flower isn’t sacred, but because in your mind you cut off the sacredness of the flower from the sacredness of human life; you made an “idol” out of the flower. Similarly, just as there is a unity between the sacredness of all life, so there is a unity between the impulse we feel toward fulfilling our purpose and our own power to decide our purpose. If someone came along and told us our purpose (as cult leaders and ideologically extreme politicians will often do), and we were to just accept what they say unquestioningly, thereby negating our own Divine potential for judgment and decision, that too would idolatry; we would have “cut off” our impulse toward purpose from our own inner reality. When Pinhas comes along and pierces the couple with his spear, he is “piercing” through false separation; he is, in that moment, choosing his purpose by “killing” the seductive force of idolatry, the tendnency to see our purpose as somehow outside of ourselves. This is why he is given the brit shalom – the “covenant of peace” – for such a “violent” act. Sometimes we too must “pierce through” our inertia, our inability to take this moment seriously, to take ourselves and our situation seriously, in order to formulate and realize our own unique and Divine purpose. In this way, we too can win the brit shalom – the inner peace that comes from bringing our potential into actuality and coming into harmony with the truth of who we really are. Here is an exercise: Sit in meditation with the question, “What am I drawn toward? What do I want to do? How do I want to live?” See what arises. Answers may not come right away. If this is the case, try asking prayerfully that an answer come. When answers do begin to come, see if you can choose one of the answers to work with as an affirmation of purpose. Make a dedication to it. If you find it difficult to commit, it may not be the right purpose. Or, you may simply be resistant to commitment! Only you can discern this; return to the question in your meditation until you receive a path to which you can commit. If time goes by and you still don’t receive any satisfactory answers, make this practice itself into your purpose, temporarily. Dedicate yourself to finding the path that will serve as your purpose, and continue with inquiry as part of your daily practice. Don’t worry how long it takes; the dedication to the practice will bear its own fruit in time. Trust the process…
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Questioning Your Mind – Parshat Pinhas
7/24/2019 0 Comments Today it seems that, once again, we are in a cultural and political crisis. Beliefs and values seem to have clumped together into two opposing camps, each often accusing the other of the worst. It is a war, in a sense, because the prevailing belief is that if you hear the point of the other and empathize in any way, they might get the upper hand. So, the rule is, fight to win. Exaggerate (or invent) the failings of the other, so that they remain your enemy. I wonder if it is possible for intelligence to pierce through this mind and emotion created illusion, just as the spear of Pinhas pierced through Zimri and Kozbi (names which together mean the “song of falsehood”)? Can awareness prevail over the power of ideology, on a cultural level? Can we, not only as individuals, but as a movement in history, become more interested in questions than assertions? It is true, questions can be endless, and sometimes action is required. If an arrow is stuck in your body, you don’t ask where the arrow came from, who made it, and so on; you remove it from your body and save your life. But what about when the action we think is required isn’t based on a clear seeing of an arrow in your body, but on stories we believe in, stories we identify with, stories that our collective egos are invested in? It is then, perhaps, that the action required is a stepping back from acting to make a space for questions. It is then, perhaps, that the actions required would be actions aimed at awakening the spirit of the question in people. Then, perhaps, is now. I wonder: might we be able to ask questions that pierce through our most cherished beliefs about what is right and true, in order to clear a space for seeing without bias? Or, at least, might we be able to see our own bias? I know, these are dangerous questions, and it is dangerous to promote the spirit of the question. Many in history have been killed for doing so. In the haftora, Elijah must have felt the danger and hopelessness of his mission in a similar way, when Jezebel vowed to have him killed for questioning the cult of Baal that the Israelites had adopted. Despondent, he left the world of people and went out into the wilderness to die. But then an angel came to him and gave him food and drink – “get up and eat!” He ate and drank a little, then lay back down again to die. Then the angel gave him some more food: “You will need this for your journey ahead!” Then he seems to get super powers from the second meal and he walks for forty days and nights. Eventually he comes to a cave here he is shown a vision of the power of the Divine, manifesting as great winds, earthquakes and fires, and yet the Divine was not in the wind, the earth, or the fire. Where was It? ק֖וֹל דְּמָמָ֥ה דַקָּֽה – Kol d’mama dakah – a still, small voice… Can we sense the Divine power in the fiery storms that are erupting today? Can we sense that we are being pushed by them, as the forces of evolution have always pushed life to transform, to hear what is beneath all those storms? Can the kol d’mama dakah actually be our own voice, arising out of the depths of stillness beneath our thoughts and feelings? The angel is tapping you on the shoulder; she gives you the nourishment of the teachings and implores you: don’t run away from the storms, but don’t get caught up in them either! God is not in the storm, but there is a Divine potential of the storm – this crisis has a purpose, if we are willing to engage it. And that purpose could be: awakening out of the mind, out of the passionate beliefs, out of ideologies, out of polarization, and into the spirit of the question, into the spirit of openness, into the willingness to really look. Whether that is the purpose or not, is actually our choice. Will you be part of the (r)evolution? Freedom in Pain – Parshat Pinhas 7/5/2018 1 Comment There are really two different kinds of discomfort. The first is like when you stub your toe. It happens suddenly, and once it happens, you're going to feel pain; there's no choice involved. The second is like when someone is talking your ear off, and you want to get away. The discomfort increases moment by moment, and you can get away any time you choose. If you want to live an awakened life, if you want to be free, these two kinds of discomfort require two different responses. The first requires simple acceptance; there's no way to escape the intense pain once you stub your toe. The second requires conscious choice about when to stay in the discomfort and keep listening to the person talk at you, and when to simply walk away. Yet for some reason, we often confuse these two situations. We can trick ourselves into thinking we're "trapped" by someone talking to us, and not realize that we have a choice. When we finally escape, we might be angry at the person: "How could they keep talking at me like that! How insensitive!" And yet, we could have left any time; we don't take the power that's ours, and instead blame someone outside ourselves for our experience. Or, we lament and complain about some discomfort that we can't control, when we should really just accept it; it already happened, we have no control! So why be in conflict with it? There's a hint of this in Parshat Pinhas: צַ֚ו אֶת־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל וְאָֽמַרְתָּ֖ אֲלֵהֶ֑ם אֶת־קָרְבָּנִ֨י לַחְמִ֜י לְאִשַּׁ֗י רֵ֚יחַ נִֽיחֹחִ֔י תִּשְׁמְר֕וּ לְהַקְרִ֥יב לִ֖י בְּמֽוֹעֲדֽוֹ Command the children of Israel and say to them, “My offerings, My food for My fires, My satisfying aroma, you shall take care to offer Me in its special time… If you draw your awareness into your pain, it becomes לַחְמִ֜י לְאִשַּׁ֗י – food for My fires –that is, food for awareness, because awareness is strengthened through the practice of fully being present with whatever you feel the impulse to resist. That's the first kind of pain, like stubbing your toe. That’s why the offering is called קָרְבָּנִ֨י – My korban, because korban means to “draw near.” The magic is that even though you are drawing your awareness into something unpleasant, the attitude of openness can transmute the pain into a connection with the Divine, with Reality, with our own being, which are all ultimately the same thing. The second type of pain, as in the example of someone talking at you, is the רֵ֚יחַ נִֽיחֹחִ֔י –pleasing aroma. That's because there's a sweetness when you claim your own power to change your situation, and not blame others. Our response to these different kinds of discomfort must be done בְּמֽוֹעֲדֽוֹ – it its special time – meaning, our response has to be in alignment with the reality of our situation. Is it time to simply accept, or is it time to act? Notice the inner tendency to lean away from your own power, or to lean into resisting what has already happened. Then, simply lean a bit the other way, and come back into balance. Once, when Reb Yisrael of Rizhyn was sitting casually with his Hassidim and smoking his pipe, one of them asked, "Rebbe, please tell, me– how can I truly serve Hashem?" "How should I know?" said the rebbe, "But I'll tell you, once there were two friends who broke the law and were brought before the king. The king was fond of them and wanted to acquit them, but he couldn't just let them off the hook completely. "So, the king had a tight rope extended over a deep pit. He told the friends, 'If you can get to the other side of the pit on the tightrope, you can go free.' The first set his foot on the rope and quickly scampered across. The second called to his friend, 'How did you do it?' "'How should I know?' said the first, 'But I'll tell you– when I started to fall toward one side, I just leaned a little to the other side...'" Good Shabbos! Piercing the Two Layers of Mind- Parshat Pinhas 7/14/2017 0 Comments "Notein lo et briti shalom – "I give him my covenant of peace.” Parshat Pinkhas begins in the aftermath of a plague that God put on the Israelites, because they had been seduced by the Midianites into an idolatrous orgy. At its climax, The Israelite man Zimri and the Midianite woman Kozbi are engaged in sexual union in front of everyone, and the zealot Pinkhas comes along and kills them both by piercing them through with a spear, causing the punishing plague to subside. God then says in the opening of the parsha, that Pinkhas “heishiv et khamati- turned back my wrath from upon the children of Israel- b’kano et kinati- when he avenged my vengeance” or “my jealousy. Therefore, hin’ni, check it out- notein lo et briti shalom- I give him my covenant of peace.” Woe, what is going on here. This sounds like the vengeful, jealous God that everyone loves to hate. What kind of a God is that, right? A God that’s jealous, a God that kills people and so on. And yet, in a sense, that’s actually perfectly true. From a certain point of view, God is a vengeful, jealous God that kills people. Not literally, of course, but this is scripture. It’s pointing to something spiritual in the language of the time it was written. So what is it pointing to? There is a basis, or a foundation for everything you’re experiencing right now. Whether we’re talking about things that appear to be outside of you – like the sensory world, what you see, what you hear, or things that appear to be inside you, such as feelings or thoughts, everything is perceived only because of this miracle called consciousness. And in the field of your experience, everything you perceive is, in fact, made out of consciousness. So that thing that I see over there is nothing but consciousness, because seeing is a function of consciousness. And, in fact, the sense of “me” that sees the thing over there, this body/mind that I call me, is also something that I perceive, so it too is just a form of consciousness. So the thing I see and the me that sees are both forms of one consciousness. And yet, as you know, most people have no sense of that at all. There’s just the sense of me over here in this body and that thing over there that I see. Why? Because we’re constantly framing our experience with language that reinforces the belief that things are objective and separate. The language we use refers to “me” and “that thing over there,” and so our thinking which is largely made out of language, is deeply conditioned with this assumption of separateness, even though our experience right now tells us otherwise. But to really see what our experience is telling us, we have to pierce a hole through the lie that’s created with our language. And to do that takes a special effort because the language lie is two-ply. Just like good toilet paper. If you have only one-ply toilet paper, that doesn’t work too well. Good toilet paper has two layers of paper so that it doesn’t tear when you’re using it. It’s the same with our minds- there’s two layers. The first layer is simply the fact that our minds are constantly going. Bla bla bla bla. It’s like a song that you get stuck in your head. Once that song is stuck, it just repeats over and over, because it’s created a groove in your nervous system. That’s why music is groovy. Dance music is always talking about “getting into the groove” and “making you move” because it’s playing on this tendency of the mind to get into grooves of thought patterns within which your mind moves. That’s the first layer you have to get through- the movement in the groove of constant thinking. The other ply is the content of the groove- the nature of how language tends to work. How does language work? Well even right now as I talk about language, the words are creating the impression that language is this thing that “I” am talking about. So there’s the sense that “I” and the subject of this talk, language, are two separate things. This doesn’t get questioned unless we deliberately decide to question it, which is what we’re doing right now by the way, because it’s simply the background assumption of language and thinking- that there’s a me who thinks and talks, and there are things that the “me” thinks and talks about. And yet we can, if we choose, notice that these words right now, as well as whatever concepts we’re talking about, as well as this body that’s talking, as well as the “you” that’s listening, are all living within and are forms of awareness. And as soon as we point this out, there can be this subtle but profound shift- and this is the shift into knowing that there’s only one thing going on. Hashem Eloheinu Hashem Ekhad- All Existence, all Being is not separate from Eloheinu- our own divinity, meaning consciousness, and Hashem Ekhad- All Existence is just this One thing that’s going on- consciousness in form. And how do you know this? Because you are Sh’ma- you are the listening, the perceiving, and nothing you perceive is separate from that. Isn’t it funny that we tend to look for God, thinking we know the world but we have to find God, when in Reality, God is the only thing we really know? Meaning, we know that there’s Existence. And we know that the knowing and the Existence, are not separate. That’s Hashem Ekhad; that’s the Oneness of God right there. Or should we say, right here. So if you choose to think in this very different, very counter-intuitive and yet very obvious kind of way, you can pierce through that ply of separateness almost instantly. Because even though it’s counterintuitive, it’s also really obvious. It’s really obvious that there’s only one Reality and this is it. How many Realities could there possibly be? Only one, because Reality just means whatever is. And it’s also totally obvious that you don’t have to go anywhere or do anything to find Reality, because there’s only ever one place to find it, and that’s always right now in your present moment experience. So once you do that, and hopefully we just did it, the next step is to connect with the Presence of Being in form. Meaning, let your awareness really connect whatever is present, rather than continue with all that duality producing language. Just let yourself be present. This isn’t complicated- just notice what’s going on… and be conscious of your breathing. And in doing that, your mind effortlessly becomes quiet, and you pierce through the other ply- the layer of the constantly moving mind. So once you’ve gotten through the two layers, and maybe you just have, Reality can be your friend, and the plague, so to speak, can be lifted. What’s the plague? It’s just the belief that you’re separate. And that’s why God can be thought of as jealous or vengeful. Not literally of course, but if you’re not paying attention to God, meaning you’re not seeing the underlying Being of everything, always focused on the conditional world, then you’re literally in exile from yourself. You’re identified with this tiny piece of who you really are, and you don’t even know it. So this is why God gives Pinkhas the covenant of shalom – of peace and wholeness – for killing Zimriand Kozbi. Because what is Zimri? It’s like the word zemer- song. So Zimri is “my song”- meaning, the constant movement of the mind; the song that my thoughts are always singing. And what is Kozbi? Kaf-Zayin-Bet means a lie, a falsehood. So Kozbi means “my lie.” And when Zimri and Kozbi unite, that’s the two ply barrier of both constant thinking and the lie of separateness that Pinkhas is able to pierce through. Now, what is Pinkhas? It’s Pey-Nekhs. Pey is a mouth, and Nekhs is bad, or unsuccessful. So Pinkhas knows the bad side of the mouth, meaning language, how it tends to make us unsuccessful in our quest for Truth. So he pierces through both layers, and receives the Brit Shalom, reminding us that whoever wants real peace and wholeness, must also pierce through the two-ply toilet paper of the mind. So on this Shabbat Pinkhas, which we might call the Sabbath of Silence, may we pierce more deeply and consistently through the noise and conditioning of the mind, connecting with and also embodying in our actions, words and even thoughts, the Divine Presence of Being that is ever-present... love, brian yosef Put Your Weed in There! Parshat Pinhas 7/28/2016 4 Comments One of my favorite Saturday Night Live sketches begins in one of those exotic import stores, filled with incense holders, meditation bowls, handmade musical instruments and the like. A stoner-type guy who works there comes up to some customers and starts showing them some crafty knick-knack import. He says in a stoner voice: “This is a Senegalese lute carved from deer wood, used for fertility rituals… oh and you can put your weed in there!” They move from one knick-knack to another. Each time the stoner guy describes the intricacies and history of the item, he concludes by showing them some hole or little compartment in it and says, “Oh, and you can put your weed in there!”- and stuffs a baggy of marijuana into it. Finally, a cop comes into the store. When the stoner sees the cop, he anxiously tells his customers to say nothing about weed. The cop walks over to them and says, “How you doing?” The stoner clenches his jaw, trying to restrain himself, and then busts out uncontrollably: “WEED!! WEED!! WEED!!” The cop says, “Why are you yelling like that?” He then examines the knick-knack he’s holding, finds the weed and arrests him. The Talmud says (Sukkah 52a), “A person’s yetzer (drive, inclination, desire) grows stronger each day and desires his death.” In the sketch, all the stoner guy has to do to not get caught is nothing. But he can’t help it- he yells, “Weed! Weed!” How often are you given the opportunity for life to go well, to go smoothly, and somehow you find yourself messing the whole thing up? Why do we have this yetzer hara- this “evil urge”- this drive toward self-destruction? In his introduction to Pirkei Avot, HaRav Yochanan Zweig proposes something unique and compelling: He says that the reason we tend to sabotage ourselves is actually because of our unbelievably enormous potential. We know, on some level, that our potential is enormous, and that creates a kind of psychological pressure. We are terrified of not living up to our potential. So, to avoid the pain of knowing our great potential and not living up to it, we try to convince ourselves that we have no potential, that we are worthless, and all our self-destructive behaviors are aimed at proving our worthlessness to ourselves. This week’s reading begins with the aftermath of a self-destructive incident as well. The Israelites had just been dwelling peacefully in their camp. Then the Midianites come along and try to seduce them into an orgy of idolatry and adultery. The Midianites didn’t attack them militarily; all the Israelites had to do is say “No thank you,” and they’d be fine. But what happens? They are easily seduced and the Divine wrath flares up. It’s the golden calf all over again! Dang. The fellow for whom the parshah is named, Pinhas, then wields his spear and kills two particularly hutzpadik offenders who were flaunting their orgiastic idolatry right in front of the holy “Tent of Meeting.” This week’s parshah then begins with Pinhas getting rewarded for his heroic murder, and he is given a Divine Brit Shalom- a “Covenant of Peace.” For many, it’s hard to see anything positive in this story. Murder in the name of religious zealotry? Embarrassing. And yet, if we dig deep into the underlying currents of the narrative, an urgent message emerges: There is a powerful drive toward self-sabotage, toward self-destruction. It is seductive, sexy, exciting and relentless. It will disguise itself in all kinds of ways to trick you and lure you into its power. But, you can overcome it, if you are aware of it! In fact, if you are aware of it, it has no power at all. The Talmud says that in the future, the Yetzer harawill be revealed for what it really is. When the wicked see the yetzer hara, it will appear as a thin hair. They will weep and say, “How were we ensnared by such a thin hair?” The key is being conscious, and clearly holding the intention that you are not living for your own gratification, but rather you are here to serve the enormous potential for wisdom and love that is your essence, your divine nature. At the same time, it’s crucial to acknowledge that you do have needs and desires. While it’s true there are times when our impulses are so destructive that they must be completely halted as represented by Pinhas and his spear, in most cases our thirsts can be quenched in moderation, with balance and wisdom. Our desires, after all, are like the impulses of an animal. Don’t let the animal take over, but don’t torture it either. You have the power, through your awareness, to give the animal enough so that it let’s you have peace, without it taking over and pulling you toward self-sabotage. There’s a story of a simple man who came to Maggid of Koznitz with his wife, demanding that he be allowed to divorce her. “Why would you want to do that?” asked the Maggid. “I work very hard all week,” said the man, “and on Shabbos I want to have some pleasure. Now for Shabbat dinner, my wife first serves the fish, then the onions, then some heavy main dish, and by the time she puts the pudding on the table, I have eaten all I want and have no appetite for it. All week I work for this pudding, and when it comes I can’t even taste it- and all my labor was for nothing! “Time after time I ask my wife to please put the pudding on the table right after Kiddush (the blessing over wine), but no! She says that the way she does it is the proper minhag (custom).” The Maggid turned to the woman. “From now on, make a little extra pudding. Take a bit of the pudding and serve it right after Kiddush.Then, serve the rest of it after the main dish, as before.” The couple agreed to this and went on their way. From that time on, it became the minhag (custom) in the Maggid’s house to serve some pudding right after Kiddush, and this minhag was passed on to his children and his children’s children. It was called the Shalom Bayit Pudding- the “Peace-in-the-House Pudding!” On this Shabbat Pinkhas, the Sabbath of Peace, may we be aware of the needs of our hearts an bodies, giving and receiving the pleasures of life without being controlled by them. May we know that we are infinitely more vast than any particular impulse or want. May we see that all impulses come and go, and that we need not identify with them. And that is the good kind of self-destruction! Good Shabbos, Bless you, brian yosef
Beneath the richness of contrasting experiences, there is a great ocean of consciousness, a radiant field of knowing-ness, an inherent goodness with no opposite. This goodness is the root of our own being; it is not remote or attainable by only a few. Rather, it is our own sentience, the simple awareness behind all experience, available to everyone.
And yet, because it is the constant and un-varying backdrop of all experience, it is ordinarily unnoticeable. Ironically, it is, on one hand, the most miraculous thing available to us, the singular spiritual nourishment that can satisfy the longing of the human soul; yet, on the other hand, its extraordinariness is ordinarily hidden in plain sight. There is a hint in the parshah (Numbers 21:5): וַיְדַבֵּ֣ר הָעָ֗ם בֵּֽאלֹהִים֮ וּבְמֹשֶׁה֒ לָמָ֤ה הֶֽעֱלִיתֻ֙נוּ֙ מִמִּצְרַ֔יִם לָמ֖וּת בַּמִּדְבָּ֑ר כִּ֣י אֵ֥ין לֶ֙חֶם֙ וְאֵ֣ין מַ֔יִם וְנַפְשֵׁ֣נוּ קָ֔צָה בַּלֶּ֖חֶם הַקְּלֹקֵֽל׃ And the people spoke against Elohim and against Moses, “Why did you make us leave Egypt to die in the wilderness? There is no bread and no water, and our souls have come to loathe this ‘miserable bread!’” – Ayn lekhem v’ayn mayim – No bread and no water…אֵ֥ין לֶ֙חֶם֙ וְאֵ֣ין מַ֔יִם “Bread and water” are metaphors for varieties of experience; they are different types of contrasting and complementary gratification. לֶ֙חֶם֙ הַקְּלֹקֵֽל – Lekhem Haklokel – The “miserable bread” is the mon, the miraculous “manna” that the Israelites ate in the wilderness. This “manna” is a symbol for our deepest being; on one hand, it is a miracle, our sustaining essence as we traverse the wilderness of life. On the other hand, it is the constant background; it is “bread” without “water,” a “goodness” without “badness”… and therefore not really a goodness, which is why it is called קְּלֹקֵֽל klokel – miserable, tedious, boring. The word קְּלֹקֵֽל klokel is ק koof ל lamed, then ק koof ל lamed again. The symbolism of ק koof has to do with seeing the sacred in the ordinary, and ל lamed has to do with curiosity, with learning from every experience. So, put together, קל could mean: “learning to see the sacredness in the ordinary.” This is a fundamental and not difficult practice, simply entailing the bringing of awareness into connection with the ordinary moments of life. In fact, the word קל literally means “light” or “simple.” This is Presence. But, when the letters are repeated, קל – קל, it implies the tediousness of trying to find the sacred in the same old thing, over and over again. What is the remedy for this tediousness? וַיְשַׁלַּ֨ח יְהוָ֜ה בָּעָ֗ם אֵ֚ת הַנְּחָשִׁ֣ים הַשְּׂרָפִ֔ים וַֽיְנַשְּׁכ֖וּ אֶת־הָעָ֑ם וַיָּ֥מָת עַם־רָ֖ב מִיִּשְׂרָאֵֽל׃ Hashem sent fiery serpents against the people; they bit the people and many of the Israelites died. The “fiery serpents” are emotional reactivity; when we feel the tediousness of the same thing over and over again, emotions like anger and frustration can actually be a kind of relief from the tedium. …they bit the people and many of the Israelites died. But, they are also destructive; in and of themselves, they don’t help us access the “goodness” hidden in plain sight. Instead, they “deaden” our sensitivity to the miraculous. But, there is a way to make use of them: וַיַּ֤עַשׂ מֹשֶׁה֙ נְחַ֣שׁ נְחֹ֔שֶׁת וַיְשִׂמֵ֖הוּ עַל־הַנֵּ֑ס וְהָיָ֗ה אִם־נָשַׁ֤ךְ הַנָּחָשׁ֙ אֶת־אִ֔ישׁ וְהִבִּ֛יט אֶל־נְחַ֥שׁ הַנְּחֹ֖שֶׁת וָחָֽי׃ Moses made a copper serpent and mounted it on a pole; and when anyone was bitten by a serpent, they would look at the copper serpent and live. “Copper serpent” is n’khash n’khoshet; it is a play on words, because “copper” and “serpent” are essentially the same word, built from the root: nun – khet – shin. “Copper” is a common metal, as opposed to the more precious metals of gold and silver. “Serpent” is the pain of emotional reactivity. So, the “copper serpent” represents the emotional pain that comes from too much of the same old common experience. And yet, the copper serpent had the power to heal the Israelites who were “bitten” by the “serpent” of emotional pain. We can see how in the letters themselves: נ Nun represent impermanence, the pain of loss. ח Khet represents patience, grace, being simply present. ש Shin represents the fire of transformation, the increased consciousness that comes from bringing awareness to pain. In other words, “looking” at the “serpent” means patiently being with the emotional pain. Through this khet practice of “presence with,” the latent “fire” of transformation (shin) within awareness is brought forth, allowing us once again to truly “live” – to experience the miraculous nature of the Essential Life within. This is meditation. Through meditation, and specifically through the willingness to allow awareness to dwell with whatever pain arises, the vast and spacious depths of the formless and constantly present field of awareness that we are becomes palpably and experientially knowable as freedom and peace; the inner and ever-available “manna” that we need to traverse this wilderness of life…
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The Lime Water – Parshat Hukat
7/10/2019 0 Comments The other night while I was flying back to Tucson, the flight attendant came through the cabin and asked me what I wanted to drink. “I’ll have sparkling water with lime please,” which is what I always have. “We have lime flavored sparkling water, is that okay?” No that’s not okay! That’s what I was thinking – but I said, “sure, thanks.” I’ve been getting sparkling water with lime on the plane all my life, and suddenly it was gone – and in its place, a cheaper substitute. “Lime flavor” is not the same and is not as good as a piece of real lime – on a number of levels – but business decisions like this get made all the time. So many products nowadays are worse than their predecessors. This phenomenon is sometimes called, “selling out.” “Selling out” means reducing the quality of something for the sake of monetary gain; it is an exchange of one value for another. But this doesn’t happen only in business; it is a basic ability we have to override our inner sense of what is right for the sake of something else we want. And, it’s not a bad ability to have, if used properly. For example, it’s good to exercise every day, to eat healthy food, to spend quality time with others, and so on. But what if there is an emergency – someone has a crisis and needs your help. It is good to be able to put all those things on hold temporarily and take care of the crisis. In this kind of case, “selling out” your personal health for the sake of another value – helping someone in crisis – can be a good thing. It is good to not be so attached your own needs so that you can respond to the needs of the situation. The problem is when this ability to override – to “sell out” – takes over and becomes our norm. The problem is when we completely “sell out” in the realm of personal health for the sake of a career, for example; that’s when we get into trouble. This is why it’s so important to consciously choose and create our habits. We can break them when necessary, as long as we return to them. Don’t let the exception to the rule become the new rule! Many of us are full of unconscious habits – behaviors we took on for certain reasons – that have become our norm, without ever consciously choosing them. The haftora for Parshat Hukat tells the story of Jephtah, the son of a harlot. Jephtah’s half-brothers of the same father don’t want their son-of-a-harlot half-brother to share in their inheritance, so they kick him out of the house and send him away. Now Jephtah is a great warrior, and he attracts a band of men who become his loyal companions. Years later, when the Ammonites attack Israel, the brothers come back to Jephtah and ask him to please come lead the fight against the Ammonites. “But you hated me and sent me away! Now you come back to me when you are in need?” The brothers offer him a deal: “If you come back and help us fight, then when it’s all over, we will make you our leader.” Japhteh is convinced – he “sells out” in a sense, giving up his pride and sense of justice for the sake of prestige and status. Before Japhteh goes into battle, he prays: Oh Hashem, if you make me victorious, I will sacrifice to you whatever comes out of my house first when I return home! What?? This is very strange – what does he think is going to come out of his house? Sure enough, when he returns home, his daughter runs out to greet him, and he cries out in horror as he realizes he must sacrifice his own daughter. This is such a strange story. Obviously, if he vows to sacrifice “whatever comes out of his house,” he will end up sacrificing a family member; it’s not like a goat or sheep is going to run out of his house! But if we understand the story metaphorically, it makes sense as an illustration of this “sell-out” mentality: First, Jephtah is the son of a harlot, and prostitution “sells out” the ordinary values of relationship and family for the sake of pleasure and monetary gain. Second, Jephtah agrees to help his betraying brothers fight for the sake of prestige; more selling out. Finally, he vows to sacrifice whatever comes out of his house if he wins. This is the clearest example – he is willing to sacrifice the most precious thing at a future time for the sake of gaining something else in the short run. Then, he is surprised when it leads to tragedy – just as we too can be surprised when we unconsciously make bad choices for the sake of short term, relatively unimportant goals. On the deepest level, when it comes to how we use our own minds, “selling out” tends to be the norm for most of us. Meaning: Right now, we have something so precious – the most precious thing there is in fact – we have the ability to receive this moment with love and gratitude, to know that we are an expression of the miracle of Being, in this moment. And yet, many of us unconsciously and unwittingly give up this most precious gift – for what? For mostly useless thinking. If we’re not aware of what we are doing, we can simply cover up this most precious thing with our constant stream of thoughts, just like our hand can cover our eyes and block out the entire sun. The mind has a certain illusory gravity; it says, “Pay attention to me! I have something urgently important!” But wake up to the majesty of this moment, and see: most thinking is a bogus urgency. Make it a habit to know yourself as spaciousness, as openness, rather than as busy thinking, and the miraculous becomes your norm. Yes, of course, sometimes you have to “sell out” – it’s okay – the situation will sometimes require you to get busy with your thinking, to rush around, to take care of business. Sometimes you have to put aside the most precious thing for the sake of the situation, but don’t make that the norm! When you can, come back in t’shuvah to Presence, come back to this moment, come back to the Divine as this moment – be the openness within which the fullness of this moment arises. In fact, our innate capacity to return from the trivial to the miraculous is encoded in Jephtah’s name – Yiftakh – which means, “open.” No matter how much we have “sold out,” our potential to return to openness – to know ourselves as openness – is ever-present, and we can always do it from wherever we are, in the present... Rage Against Rock – Parshat Hukat 6/21/2018 1 Comment Reb Pinkhas taught, "If you wish to guide others, you must not become angry at them, because not only will the anger pollute your own soul, it will infect those you are guiding as well." And at another time he said, "Since I've learned to tame my anger, I keep it my pocket, and take it out when needed." In order to occasionally use anger in a directed and effective way, you have to not be taken over by it. Only when you are free from anger, can you use it effectively. Lord knows there is a lot in our world to be angry about! But in most situations, it's best to be conscious of anger as it arises, feel your anger fully, but not direct it at others. There's a hint of this in this week's reading, Parshat Hukat. The Israelites complain once again against Moses and Aaron that they are thirsty. Hashem instructs Moses to speak to a rock, and it will give forth water for them to drink. But instead, Moses yells at the people: "You rebels!" and then hits the rock with a stick. Water comes forth, but Moses is not allowed to enter the Promised Land for his burst of anger. And so it is: If we want to dwell in the "Promised Land," we must be at home in this moment, in whatever this moment brings. People are complaining? Anger is arising? Be conscious of it. "Speak" to the "rock" of your own heart: "Ah, here is anger arising. This is actually a gift, an opportunity to practice being conscious in real time, not just during meditation." Let the "water" flow from your heart out of Presence, rather than being demanding, and you will enter the Promised Land from wherever you find yourself... The Mystery of Music- Parshat Hukat 6/29/2017 3 Comments V’yik’khu eilekha fara aduma t’mimah- And they should take to you a cow that is red, completely... In Parshat Hukat, it says, Zot hukat haTorah- This is the hok- the decree of the Torah- v’yik’khu eilekha fara aduma t’mimah- and they should take to you a cow that is red, completely. The red cow is then burned up, and the ashes are mixed with water to make a special potion for purifying anyone who touches a corpse. The premise behind this is that if you touch a corpse, you become tamei, which means ritually unfit or impure, so that you wouldn’t be able to engage in certain rituals without first doing a purification process. So what’s this all about? The Hassidic master, Rabbi Mordechai Yosef, known as The Ishbitzer, taught that “death” represents the past, because the past is over already; it’s dead. The tuma, teaches the Ishbitzer, is really anger or resentment about something from the past. That’s because feelings of negativity and judgment about something that’s already happened keep you stuck- you’re holding on to something that you really need to let go of- and that’s the tuma- the spiritual “contamination” so to speak. Now the red cow is itself the very embodiment of death. Why? Because it’s a living creature that’s completely burned up. It’s also completely red, the color of the blood that bleeds out of a slaughtered animal, as well as the fire that destroys the form of the animal. So why does this symbol of death cure someone from the contamination of death? Because the contamination, the tuma, comes from resisting death- from being angry at something in the past- from not letting go. To be cured from your resistance, you have to accept whatever you’re resisting; you have to embrace it. So paradoxically, it’s in embracing the past that you let go of the past, because being stuck means that you were holding on to an idea of how it should have been. Now that you accept what has been, you get soaked with the ashes of the red cow, so to speak, and you can let go of it. Then you’re tahor- purified from that clinging, that holding on, so that you can fully come into the present, into the sacred dimension of simply Being. So how do you do that? How do you accept whatever you’re resisting, and let go of it? In other words, what are the “red cow ashes” we can use today? There’s a Hebrew cipher known as Atbash in which you connect every Hebrew letter with another Hebrew letter, so that the first letter, alef, gets connected with the last letter, tav. The second letter, bet, gets connected with the second to last letter, shin, and so on. In this way, you can substitute letters in words to come up with new words. According to kabbalah, words that are connected through Atbash have a connection in meaning as well. Now the word for being spiritually whole and pure is tahor. Through atbash we can substitute a nun for the tet, making nahor. Rearrange the letters, and you have rinah-song. And that’s exactly the power of song and music in general- to transform negativity and resistance not necessarily by turning away from it, but by turning into it. Why? Because music makes it feel good to feel bad- hence the blues, as well as a lot of mournful Jewish liturgy, the krekh of the clarinet in Klezmer music, and a thousand other examples. That’s the miracle of music- it makes it feel good to feel bad- it transforms negativity without negating it, allowing you to accept and even embrace whatever it is you’re resisting. And out of that letting go grows the realization that there’s only One Reality- there’s not me, on one hand, and that thing I’m judging, on the other, there’s just What Is- there’s just Hashem- Reality, Being, God. As Rebbe Nachman said, “The most direct means for attaching yourself to God is through music and song. Even if you can't sing well, sing. Sing to yourself. Sing in the privacy of your home, but sing.” But why? How does music work anyway? That’s the great hok, the great mystery of music itself, and its power to bring us deeply into the depths of our present experience and open us to the wholeness that we are. So on this Shabbat Hukat- the Sabbath of the Mystery- I bless you to use your voice in prayer and song. “Even if you can't sing well, sing. Sing to yourself. Sing in the privacy of your home, but sing.” Good Shabbos! Ain't Misbehavin'- Parshat Hukat 7/14/2016 2 Comments On the way to the airport, our daughter started shrieking in the back seat. "What's the matter honey??" "The phone died!!!" she screamed. She was playing a game on my wife's phone and it ran out of juice. "I see you're really upset," said my wife. It always amazes me how Lisa is able stay present even with that shrieking sound; a great reminder to me. It all began a few years ago, when she read about a parenting method called, “Positive Discipline.” Positive Discipline encourages firmness in correcting children, but instructs you to first connect with them in empathy before correcting. The catch phrase for this is “Connection Before Correction.” In other words, speak to your children first, connect with their hearts, let them know you understand why they are upset or why they might have done whatever they did, and only afterward speak to them firmly about what behavior needs to change. While I have not found this approach to be workable all of the time, especially in extreme situations, I still find the principle incredibly useful. And when it does work, it’s not only better for the children, it’s better for the parent. That’s because when you communicate only through harshness, it’s all too easy to be seduced into anger. And though it is possible for the parent to correct the child with anger, the parent is then misbehaving too! After all, anger demonstrates a lack of patience, a lack of composure- the very thing you want to correct in the child. So while expressing anger may have the desired effect of correcting the child’s behavior, it would have the opposite effect on oneself. Spiritually speaking, impatience and loss of composure have a deeper root- they stem from a loss of presence, and consequently, loss of connection with the Presence. When a child acts out, they have lost their presence; they have been taken over by their impulses. Have you ever seen an adorable and beautiful child suddenly become a monstrous terror? And in the presence of such lack of presence, it can be very difficult to keep your own presence. In this week’s reading, there’s a metaphorical demonstration of this principle. The name of the parshah- “Hukat”- is a form of the word hok, which means “decree,” or “statute.” The particular hok described here is the ritual for purifying someone who has come in contact with death. Metaphorically, death represents the loss of presence that comes when you are taken over by anger and negativity. In the ritual, one must take a completely red cow and slaughter it, then burn it up completely. (Both the redness of the cow and the burning represent the fire of anger, which causes one to become spiritually “dead.”) Then, the ashes are mixed with water and made into a potion to be sprinkled on the impure person. And, while the potion causes the impure person to become pure again, it causes the one who sprinkled the potion to become impure- just as parents who discipline their children with anger may help to “purify” the child’s behavior, but in the process they become impure themselves. This theme continues to vibrate throughout the parshah- Shortly after the hok of the red cow, Moses’ sister Miriam dies. Metaphorically, Miriam’s death is the loss of connection with the Divine Presence, which Miriam represents. After she dies, we are then told that there is “no water to drink.” Meaning, there is a “thirst” for connection with the Presence that was lost. The people then gather against Moses and Aaron, angrily demanding water. Hashem instructs Moses to “take the staff”- meaning, take hold of his own inner power- and “speak to the rock before their eyes”- meaning, bring awareness to the hardness- to the lack of connection. Then it says- “Hotzeita lahem mayim min haselah- “You shall bring forth water from the rock and give drink…” The barrier to holiness can be penetrated by gently bringing awareness to it through speech, by using speech to return people to presence. That’s the role of the spiritual teacher- to help others return to Presence, often through speech. But, as you may know, that’s not what Moses does. He becomes angry and instead yells at the people, calling them “rebels,” and then strikes the rock with his staff. The water comes forth anyway and the people drink- but Moses is told he cannot enter the Promised Land. His anger puts his own soul into exile. You can apply this principle not only to correcting others, but perhaps more importantly, to correcting yourself! How often do you beat yourself up for not living up to your highest intentions? While beating yourself up might motivate you to change externally, it creates more negativity internally. Try talking to yourself gently, but firmly. You have the power to teach yourself from your “Inner Torah”- to set yourself on the path you want to be on, if only you take the time to open to that wisdom and really work with it. But to do this, you have to consider yourself- your deepest self- to be a holy Torah. Yes, we are flawed humans, but on the deepest level we are also Torah. That level of Torah within is ever available, if you but remember and open to it. There’s a hint of this in the parshah as well, when it describes the law for a person who dies in a tent: “Zot hatorah Adam ki yamut b’ohel- “This is the torah (teaching) for when a person dies in a tent…” The beginning of this verse can also be read in a completely different way- “Zot haTorah, Adam- This is the Torah- a person!” One Shabbos, in the year 1840, Reb Yitzhak of Vorki attended a festive meal in the synagogue of the Seer of Lublin who had passed away twenty-five years earlier. When it was time to sit for the meal, the hassidim tried to convince Reb Yitzhak to sit in the Seer’s chair. Reb Yitzhak declined saying, “When our rebbe was alive, I always kept a distance from him of at least half the length of the room out of sheer awe of his presence.” But as soon as he sat down, scores of hassidim eagerly crowded and pushed their way to be close to him anyway. Reb Yitzhak gently spoke to them: “You know, every person is like a holy book- every person is in fact a Torah- as it says, ‘Zot haTorah, Adam- This is the Torah- a person!’And just as you wouldn’t pile things on top of a Sefer Torah, so too please don’t push and shove one another.” One of the Hassidim at that gathering later commented, “If I had come only to hear that remark, that would have been sufficient!” On this Shabbat Hukat, the Sabbath of Decree, may we take care to embrace the “decree” of what is, even when confronting the negativity of others, not allowing our resistance to be embodied in self-defeating anger. But rather, let us embody Presence in all three garments- in our actions, words and thoughts. Good Shabbos! -reb brian yosef Am "I" Holy or Not? Parshat Hukat 6/25/2015 0 Comments This week’s reading begins with the laws of purification for coming into contact with death. The name of the parshah- Hukat- is from the word hok, which means “decree”, or “statute”. The particular hok in this parshah contains strange instructions to burn up a completely red cow- a parah adumah- and to mix a magical purification potion from the ashes. Due to the particularly obscure and bizarre nature of this practice, the rabbis came to see the word “hok” to refer to any of the mitzvot in general that don’t seem to make rational sense. After describing the process with the red cow, it says (Bamidbar 19:14)- “Zot hatorah Adam ki yamut b’ohel- this is the torah for when a person dies in a tent…” The beginning of this verse can also be read in a completely different way- “Zot haTorah, Adam- This is the Torah- a person!”- hinting that a person is like a holy book, containing all spiritual wisdom within oneself... One Shabbos, in the year 1840, Reb Yitzhak of Vorki attended a festive meal in the synagogue of the Seer of Lublin who had passed away twenty-five years earlier. When it was time for the meal, the hassidim tried to convince Reb Yitzhak to sit in the Seer’s chair. Reb Yitzhak declined, saying, “When our rebbe was alive, I always kept a distance from him of at least half the length of the room out of sheer awe.” But as soon as he sat down in one of the regular seats, scores of hassidim eagerly crowded and pushed their way to be close to him. Reb Yitzhak gently spoke to them about their rude behavior: “You know, every person is like a holy book; that’s why you mustn’t lean on or push one another.” One of the hassidim countered, “But aren’t we allowed to stack holy books on top of other holy books?” Replied Reb Yitzhak: “Yes… but even though you should see every person as a holy book, you shouldn’t see yourself as a holy book.” One of the Hassidim at that gathering later commented, “If I had come only to hear that remark, that would have been sufficient!” Recently, my wife has been learning about a parenting method called, “Positive Discipline”. Positive Discipline encourages firmness in correcting children, but instructs you to first connect with them in empathy before correcting them. The catch phrase for this (which I find incredibly useful) is “Connection Before Correction”. In other words, speak to your children first, connect with their hearts, let them know you understand why they are upset or why they might have done whatever they did. Only afterward you speak to them about how they need to change their behavior. But this approach is not only better for the children, it’s better for the parent! It’s possible to correct children through harshness alone, but what effect does that have on your own soul? The answer comes from looking at the motive behind the child’s misbehavior. Why does the child misbehave? Generally speaking, they misbehave for the same reason the hassidim in the story misbehaved. The hassidim misbehaved because they were desperately seeking something. In their case, they wanted the juice from the tzaddik, they wanted Shekhinah, the Divine Presence. The Tzaddik is telling them- “your desperate seeking is keeping away the very thing you seek! Learn the middah of composure, of respect, and the Divine Presence will open Itself to you.” He could have communicated this harshly, and after the hassidim get over the initial shock of the harshness, it would have the same effect. They would still learn the lesson. But in expressing the teaching through anger, the teacher would have separated himself from the Presence! After all, anger demonstrates a lack of patience, a lack of composure. So while it may have the desired effect for others, it would have the opposite effect on oneself. We can also see this in the parshah, beginning with chapter 20: First, Moses’ sister Miriam dies. Metaphorically, this means that connection with the Divine Presence (represented by Miriam) is lost. We are then told that there is “no water to drink”. Meaning, there is a “thirst” for connection with Presence. The people then gather against Moses and Aaron, angrily demanding water. The child is misbehaving! The hassidim are leaning and pushing! Hashem then instructs Moses to “take the staff”- meaning, take hold of your own inner power- and “speak to the rock before their eyes”- meaning, bring awareness to the hard barrier (the rock) created by the seeking. Then it says, “hotzeita lahem mayim min haselah- you shall bring forth water from the rock and give drink…” The barrier to what you seek can be removed through gentle words of instruction. As you may know, that’s not what Moses does. He becomes angry and instead yells at the people, calling them “rebels”, and then strikes the rock with his staff. The water comes forth anyway and the people drink- but Moses is told he cannot enter the Promised Land. His anger puts his own soul into exile. You can apply this principle not only to correcting others, but perhaps more importantly, to correcting yourself! How often do you beat yourself for not living up to your highest intentions? While beating yourself up might motivate you to change externally, it creates more negativity internally. Try talking to yourself gently, but firmly. As the teaching goes, a person is a Torah! Meaning- you have the wisdom within to teach yourself, to get back onto the path you want to be on, if only you take the time to open to that wisdom and really work with it. In this sense, you should indeed consider yourself- your deepest self- to be a holy Torah! I bless you that in this hok of life, this life that is often incomprehensible, that you remain steadfastly committed to embodying the wisdom, compassion and positive transformation that you came into this world to embody. Good Shabbos! -b yosef 
וַיִּקַּ֣ח קֹ֔רַח – And Korakh separated himself…
וַיָּקֻ֙מוּ֙ לִפְנֵ֣י מֹשֶׁ֔ה וַאֲנָשִׁ֥ים מִבְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל חֲמִשִּׁ֣ים וּמָאתָ֑יִם נְשִׂיאֵ֥י עֵדָ֛ה קְרִאֵ֥י מוֹעֵ֖ד אַנְשֵׁי־שֵֽׁם׃ And they rose up against Moses with two hundred and fifty men, leaders of the community who are called to assembly, men of renown… וַיִּֽקָּהֲל֞וּ עַל־מֹשֶׁ֣ה וְעַֽל־אַהֲרֹ֗ן וַיֹּאמְר֣וּ אֲלֵהֶם֮ רַב־לָכֶם֒ כִּ֤י כָל־הָֽעֵדָה֙ כֻּלָּ֣ם קְדֹשִׁ֔ים וּבְתוֹכָ֖ם יְהוָ֑ה וּמַדּ֥וּעַ תִּֽתְנַשְּׂא֖וּ עַל־קְהַ֥ל יְהוָֽה׃ And they gathered against Moses and Aaron and said to them. “You make much of yourselves! For all the community – all of them are holy, and the Divine is among them all! Why do you exalt yourselves above the community of Hashem?” וַיִּשְׁמַ֣ע מֹשֶׁ֔ה וַיִּפֹּ֖ל עַל־פָּנָֽיו׃ – And Moses heard and fell on his face… Parshat Korakh tells of Korakh’s rebellion against Moses and Aaron. On a metaphorical level, the leadership of Moses and Aaron represent our capacity to be in alignment with the Divine – meaning, living from the realization that all things are part of One Reality, One unfolding. From this point of view, there is no tension between oneself and the situation within which one finds oneself, because both “self” and “situation” are arising within (and not separate from) the space of consciousness that we are; there is unity with the moment. Ego, on the other hand, is living from the sense of oneself as separate from one’s situation; ego is the sense of “me” and “other.” This is Korakh – the incarnation of ego. Ego thrives on conflict, because conflict reinforces the sense of oneself as separate; conflict is food and water for the ego. We can see this in the opening words: וַיִּקַּ֣ח קֹ֔רַח – Vayikakh Korakh – And Korakh took… This is usually translated as “Korakh separated himself,” but literally it means that Korakh “took.” Took what? Took his feeling of existence by creating conflict. On the outer level, this takes the form of rebelling against authority and trying to seize power for himself. The passage then goes on to illustrate the three primary strategies that the ego employs to accomplish its craving for the illusion of existence: First, Korakh makes an argument against Moses and Aaron that is essentially true: כֻּלָּ֣ם קְדֹשִׁ֔ים – kulam kedoshim – all of them are holy! Instead of trying to say that Moses and Aaron are bad leaders and that he would be a better leader, which would be more straightforward but debatable, Korakh instead says something that can’t really be argued: everyone is holy! I have heard similar arguments about traditional practice: “Why do we need a special holy day in the week – aren’t all the days holy?” Or, at the time of this writing, another common argument: “Why do you say ‘black lives matter’ – don’t ALL lives matter?” On the surface, we cannot judge the merit of Korakh on the basis of his argument, because it is a true argument. Nor can we judge the validity of Shabbat as a holy day, or justify the saying that some lives matter, when clearly all lives matter. We can only judge by going beneath the surface of the logic and into the intention behind the logic; we must look at the motivation behind the words. In the story, the truth of Korakh’s motivation is ultimately revealed; he is not concerned with the holiness of the people, but with his own self-enhancement: …בֹּקֶר וְיֹדַע יי אֶת־אֲשֶׁר־ל֛וֹ וְאֶת־הַקָּד֖וֹשׁ וְהִקְר֣יב אֵל֑יו “In the morning, The Divine will make known who is in alignment with the Divine, who is holy and close to the Divine… Boker v’yoda Hashem – In the morning, the Divine will make known – meaning, Reality Itself ultimately reveals the truth of things. We may not know where a person’s heart is. When someone says, “All lives matter’” – we do not necessarily know if they are truly concerned (in that moment) with “all lives,” or if they are really only concerned with enhancement of ego through the creation of conflict with the “other,” either intentionally or unconsciously, as the product of feeling “triggered.” In today’s discourse, it is very common for conversations to remain on the level of egos attacking other egos and egos defending themselves… which is not really conversation. But, while we can’t necessarily know the motivation of the one attacking us, we can know our own motivation: וַיִּשְׁמַ֣ע מֹשֶׁ֔ה וַיִּפֹּ֖ל עַל־פָּנָֽיו׃ – Vayish’ma Mosheh vayipol al panav – And Moses heard and fell on his face… The word for “his face,” panav, can also mean presence, or awareness. So, vayipol al panav, “fell upon his face” can mean to cause your awareness to “fall” into your body, to be the presence that perceives any triggered emotions within. As we turn attention inward to be aware of our own egos, we avoid the second strategy – pointing the finger at the other guy’s ego, thus taking attention away from your own: יי וּמַדּ֥וּעַ תִּֽתְנַשְּׂא֖וּ עַל־קְהַ֥ל – Umadu’a titnas’u al k’hal? Why do you exalt yourselves over the community of Hashem? Korakh’s accusation against Moses and Aaron is actually a projection of himself; his own ego feels disempowered and craves enhancement, but that can only happen if his true motivation is hidden. So, he throws the spotlight on the ones he is attacking. This brings us to the third strategy of ego, securing validation from others: נְשִׂיאֵ֥י עֵדָ֛ה קְרִאֵ֥י מוֹעֵ֖ד אַנְשֵׁי־שֵֽׁם – n’si’ei eidah, kriy’ei mo’ed, anshei shem – leaders of the community who are called to assembly, men of renown… Validation from others hides the profound insecurity of ego and stuffs it full with self-confidence. But Moses does the opposite. After examining himself by “listening” and “falling on his face,” he stays with the uncertainty, confident that the truth will be revealed in time: …בֹּקֶר וְיֹדַע יי אֶת־אֲשֶׁר־ל֛וֹ וְאֶת־הַקָּד֖וֹשׁ וְהִקְר֣יב אֵל֑יו “In the morning, The Divine will make known who is in alignment with the Divine, who is holy and close to the Divine… Similarly, we too can give the benefit of the doubt to those who seem to oppose us. We can look within and discover where ego may be secretly operating, and in that awareness, transcend the ego’s clutches and connect with the life that matters most – the deepest dimension of who we are, beyond ego, beyond all argument. Because, ultimately, the ego’s self “propping up” is bound to collapse: וַתִּפְתַּ֤ח הָאָ֙רֶץ֙ אֶת־פִּ֔יהָ וַתִּבְלַ֥ע אֹתָ֖ם And the earth opened her mouth and swallowed them… Meaning, all of the illusions of ego are eventually revealed for what they are. The question is, can we debunk the illusory pull of ego within ourselves? When I was about three years old, I was at a swimming pool. I had just seen a kid running, and I thought that wasn’t allowed, so I called up to the lifeguard, “Are we allowed to run around the pool?” “No, no running allowed around the pool.” “Okay!” I said, and immediately proceeded to run off. In a split second, the lifeguard’s whistle was in his mouth and he let off a short blast that pierced my soul: “Don’t you run!” he said.
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The Waves – Parshat Korakh
7/2/2019 0 Comments One of the radical teachings of Hassidism, once regarded by some Rabbinic authorities as heretical, is that we all have equal and immediate access to the Divine, regardless of book learning and even regardless of purity in thought and action. That’s because the Hassidic understanding is that the Divine is not something separate from anything, but is rather the basic Reality of Everything – similar to the relationship between the waves and the ocean. The waves have form and duration; they have individual “identity” in a sense, yet they are never separate from the vast and formless ocean. Similarly, all things are like waves in the great Ocean of Being, and all we need do to connect with Hashem is shift our attention from the waves – the world of time and thinking – to the world of the Ocean – the realm of the Timeless Present. One of the disciples of Rabbi Reb Pinchas of Koretz wasn’t convinced: “I am not really a holy person; I don’t see how I could possibly ever know Hashem with all the wicked things I’ve done.” Reb Pinchas responded with a parable: “Once there was a prince who liked to go on journeys, so he had many little cottages scattered throughout the land. When he would travel, he would stay in those cottages, among the common folk. Those cottages were very different and far more modest than his palace, but they were in no way inferior, because they served a different function; what the palace could not do, the cottages could, and vice versa. "It is the same with people: when a supposedly wicked person turns their heart to the Divine and connects in prayer or in good deed, the Divine rejoices in a way that is not possible with the tzaddikim; that’s why it’s important for everyone to understand that they have a unique mission, regardless of how unscholarly or unsaintly they may regard themselves.” The palace and the cottage are different forms of “home.” Home is a wonderful metaphor for connection with the Divine, because the Divine is literally “at home” everywhere – just as the ocean is “at home” within every wave. Home should be (b’ezrat Hashem) a place of restfulness and security; just like the state of inner connectedness that comes from Presence. But also, the home is a place we leave frequently, only to return again. If we were trapped in our home, the home would be like a prison; we would be “under house arrest.” Appreciation for being at home is partially dependent on regularly visiting other places. Similarly, we can leave our “home” in the present moment to travel through landscapes of thought and feeling. If thought and feeling function as temporary abodes for serving the betterment of life, they are like the “cottages of the prince” so to speak… as long as we don’t get trapped! We don’t want to get “taken hostage” by the mind and lose sight of our true home, the palace of Presence. וַיִּֽקָּהֲל֞וּ עַל־מֹשֶׁ֣ה וְעַֽל־אַהֲרֹ֗ן וַיֹּאמְר֣וּ אֲלֵהֶם֮ רַב־לָכֶם֒ כִּ֤י כָל־הָֽעֵדָה֙ כֻּלָּ֣ם קְדֹשִׁ֔ים וּבְתוֹכָ֖ם יְהוָ֑ה וּמַדּ֥וּעַ תִּֽתְנַשְּׂא֖וּ עַל־קְהַ֥ל יְהוָֽה׃ They gathered against Moses and Aaron and said to them, “You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and the Divine is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above the congregation of Hashem?” This week’s reading, Parshat Korakh, describes a rebellion against Moses and Aaron. The protestors have a good point – yes, everyone is holy. This is what the mind whispers to us: “These thoughts are important and holy too!” – which is true! But, visit them and dwell in them as if you were royalty, traveling and visiting your country house; don’t get lost in them! Remember the Palace of Presence, remember your true home. But how do you do that? In the haftorah, the prophet Samuel rebukes the people for rejecting Hashem as their King and requesting a human king, king Saul. The people feel remorse and beg for mercy. But Samuel reassures them: וַיֹּ֨אמֶר שְׁמוּאֵ֤ל אֶל־הָעָם֙ אַל־תִּירָ֔אוּ אַתֶּ֣ם עֲשִׂיתֶ֔ם אֵ֥ת כָּל־הָרָעָ֖ה הַזֹּ֑את אַ֗ךְ אַל־תָּס֙וּרוּ֙ מֵאַחֲרֵ֣י יְהוָ֔ה וַעֲבַדְתֶּ֥ם אֶת־יְהוָ֖ה בְּכָל־לְבַבְכֶֽם׃ But Samuel said to the people, “Have no fear. You have, indeed, done all those wicked things. Do not, however, turn away, but serve the Divine with all your heart. The point is, it’s okay to have a human king. It’s okay – it’s necessary and good in fact – to engage in the world, to enjoy the world. It’s okay to travel in the paths of thought and feeling. But, if you find you have become lost and fearful that you won’t find your way home, have no fear! Know the ocean is always beneath the waves. Al tasuru – don’t turn away! Turn your attention toward the Divine as the Ever-Present Reality of this moment. Rabbi Yisrael, the Maggid of Koznitz, used to visit the city of Apt every year on his father’s yartzeit to visit his grave. For years, he would teach the community on those visits. One year, on such a visit, they asked him when he would come and preach in the synagogue. “I don’t think I will preach this year,” he replied. “I don’t see any evidence that my preaching has done any good.” The people were dumbfounded, and didn’t know what to say. Later, a crowd gathered around the inn where the Maggid was staying. They wanted to convince him to come and speak, but weren’t sure how. Then, a young craftsman went into the inn and knocked on the Maggid’s door. The Maggid answered. “You say that your preaching hasn’t had any effect,” said the craftsman. “But that’s not true. Last year you spoke about the practice of Sh’viti Hashem L’negdi Tamid – I place the Divine before me constantly. Ever since then, I always see the Divine before me in whatever I am doing, and in whatever is happening; It appears to me like white fire on black fire.” “Hmm,” replied the Maggid, “Okay then, I’ll come and preach.” The Torment of Desire – Parshat Korakh 6/13/2018 0 Comments Parshat Korakh begins, “Vayikakh Korakh- Korakh separated himself…” This is referring to how Korakh “separates himself” by rebelling against Moses and Aaron, accusing them of unfairly wielding their power. Korakh’s argument is pretty convincing. He says: “This entire assembly is holy and the Divine is among them- why do you exalt yourselves over the congregation of the Divine?” Now, the word for “he separated” is vayikakh, which literally means “he took”- hinting at the selfish motive behind his challenge to Moses. Just like when you feel desire for something, like a sugary treat for example, and there’s the urge to reach for it and take it, so too Korakh was grabbing at what he wanted. Only his desire object wasn’t food, but status and control. And just as the body can have physical cravings, so the ego has identity cravings: I want control, I want recognition, and so on, and that ego craving can be much more powerful than bodily cravings in some cases. Next, it says: Vayishma Moshe, vayipol al panav- Moses heard, and fell on his face. Why did he fall on his face? There’s a story that once an opponent of the Hassidic movement came to the Alter Rebbe- Reb Sheur Zalman of Liadi- to attack him with accusations of arrogance: “You claim to be a holy man- a leader of Hassidim- but look how you sit alone in your study, separate from the people… and with an attendant at your door, only admitting people according to your command- how fancy of you! Isn’t that arrogance? Who do you think you are anyway?” The tzaddik put down his head, resting it in his arms, as one does during the penitential Takhanunprayer. After a few minutes, he lifted his head and spoke- “The expression the Torah uses for ‘leaders of the people’ is ‘roshei alfei Yisrael- heads of the thousands of Israel,’ from which we learn that our leaders are known as ‘heads.’ “Now it is true, the head and the body are joined together, and neither can exist without the other. Nevertheless, they’re clothed separately and differently. Why is this? “Because the head must be distinct from the body, just as the ‘heads’ of any generation must be distinct from the people.” The questioner was impressed with the answer and went on his way. But the Rebbe’s little son (who would eventually be known as Reb Dov Bear of Lubavich), had a different question for his father: “Abba, in order to give that answer, there was no need to rest your head in your arms. Why didn’t you give him the answer immediately?” The Alter Rebbe replied- “In Parshat Korakh, when Korakh and his followers accused Moses and Aaron of abusing their power as leaders, we read that Korakh accused them with these words- “‘Umadua titnasu- And why do you exalt yourselves?’ “Then we read, ‘Vayishma Moshe, vayipol al panav- Moses heard, and fell on his face.’ “Only after he fell on his face, did Moses answer Korakh. So we might ask the same question there- why did Moses have to fall on his face first, before giving his answer? “Because Moses suspected that perhaps there was some truth to the accusation- perhaps there was a bit of ego involved in his leadership, so he had to go inside himself and search inwardly to see if there was some truth there. “Then, after searching within and purifying himself from any ego (as the Torah says, ‘V’ha’ish Moshe anav me’od- Moses was exceedingly humble’), he was able to respond with clarity. “A similar thing happened with me here today.” The Alter Rebbe’s description of the head in relation to the body- intimately connected, yet separate, transcendent- is not just a metaphor for a leader in relation to the people, but also for consciousness in relation to your thoughts and feelings. So just as the attendant shields the rebbe from his clamoring hassidim, so you too can be the “attendant” of your own mind, keeping yourself free from thoughts and feelings generated by ego. But, to do this, you don’t really have to “keep out” any of your thoughts or feelings. All you need to do is be conscious of them. By simply acknowledging the presence of selfish or aggressive thoughts and feelings, they’re no longer controling “you.” Then, as you continue to stay present, your thoughts and feelings naturally cool down, revealing themselves as nothing more than fleeting moments of experience. As it says in Psalm 23, Dishanta vashemen roshi- My head is anointed with oil. When you stay present, your awareness is like aromatic anointing oil poured over your head, cooling and relaxing your mind and heart. And when that happens, you can experience yourself more and more as consciousness, totally beyond and yet inclusive of your mind and heart. And that consciousness is the opposite of ego. Because while ego is needy and is forever restless, trying to fulfill itself, consciousness is full and complete- Kosi r’vaya- my cup is full. So on this Shabbat Korakh, this Sabbath of Taking, may we fully “take” the only power we truly have- the power to be with what is- to be the space of awareness within which this moment unfolds, and in so doing, become free from the impulses of the mind and heart and realize the inherent peace and wholeness that we are. Good Shabbos! Who Do You Think You Are? Parshat Korakh 7/8/2016 0 Comments A disciple of the Baal Shem Tov once asked, “Why is it that I usually feel the holiness of the Divine Presence, but occasionally, it vanishes and there is only a sense of remoteness and alienation?” The Baal Shem explained- “When parents teach their children to walk, they sometimes hold out their hands so the child can grab on and toddle toward the parent. But at some point, the parent will withdraw their hands and step back, giving the child the chance to toddle without holding on, so that in time they can learn to walk on their own.” Sometimes, withdrawing is a form of giving. But, that can be challenging. I know this with my own children- the “teacher” in me wants to step in, instruct and correct. Sometimes I have to remind myself to “step back” and let them figure it out on their own. What is it that makes withdrawing a form of giving? Of course, it’s the intention. To withdraw out of love, to give space to the other, is a form of giving. But often, withdraw isn’t motivated by love, but by negativity. Then it becomes not a form of giving, but a form of taking. This week’s reading begins: “Vayikakh Korakh- “Korakh separated himself…” Korakh “separated himself” by rebelling against Moses and Aaron, accusing them of unfairly wielding power over the children of Israel. Korakh’s argument is convincing- “For the entire assembly is holy and the Divine is among them- why do you exalt yourselves over the congregation of the Divine?” Interestingly, the words for “Korakh separated himself” in Hebrew is literally “Korakh took”- a telling idiom, pointing to the selfish motive behind his challenge to Moses. If you’ve ever complained angrily in a way that only created more negativity, more of the very thing you were complaining against, you’ve experienced separation as a form of taking. It’s a form of arrogance, and arrogance always distorts your ability to see things clearly. That’s Korakh- he has intelligent arguments behind his complaints, but his mind is distorted by arrogance, so he accuses Moses of being arrogant. How do we purify ourselves of arrogance and see clearly? An opponent of the Hassidic movement once came to the Alter Rebbe- Reb Sheur Zalman- to attack him with accusations of arrogance: “You claim to be a holy man- a leader of Hassidim- but look how you sit alone in your study, separate from the people… and with an attendant at your door, shielding you from those who come to see you, and only admitting them one by one according to your command- how fancy of you! Isn’t that arrogance? Who do you think you are?” The tzaddik put down his head, resting it in his arms, as one does during the penitential Takhanunprayer. After a few minutes, he lifted his head and spoke- “The expression the Torah uses for ‘leaders of the people’ is ‘roshei alfei Yisrael- heads of the thousands of Israel,’ from which we learn that our leaders are known as ‘heads.’ “Now it is true, the head and the body are joined together, and neither can exist without the other. They have a most essential and intimate connection. Nevertheless, they are clothed separately and differently. Why is this? “Because the head must be distinct from the body, just as the ‘heads’ of any generation must be distinct from the people.” The questioner was impressed with the answer and went on his way. But the Rebbe’s little son (who would eventually be known as Reb Dov Bear of Lubavich), had a different question for his father: “Abba, in order to give that answer, there was no need to rest your head in your arms. Why didn’t you give him the answer immediately?” The Alter Rebbe replied- “In Parshat Korakh, when Korakh and his followers incited mutiny against Moses and Aaron and accused them of abusing their power as leaders, we read that Korakh accused Moses with these words- “‘Umadua titnasu- And why do you raise yourself up above the people of God?’ “Then we read, ‘Vayishma Moshe, vayipol al panav- Moses heard, and fell on his face.’ “Only afterward did Moses give his answer to Korakh- that in the morning, Hashem would make clear who were the chosen leaders. The same question could be asked there- why did Moses have to fall on his face first, before giving his answer? “But Moses suspected that perhaps there was some truth to the accusation- perhaps there was a bit of ego involved in his leadership, so he had to go inside himself and search inwardly to see if there was some truth there. “After searching within and purifying himself from any ego (as the Torah says, ‘V’ha’ish Moshe anav me’od- Moses was exceedingly humble’), he was able to respond with clarity. “A similar thing happened with me here today.” The Alter Rebbe’s description of the head in relation to the body- intimately connected, yet separate, transcendent- is not just a metaphor for a leader in relation to the people, but also for consciousness in relation to the thinking mind. Just as the attendant shields the rebbe from his clamoring hassidim, admitting them one by one according to the wishes of the Rebbe, so you too can be the “attendant” of your own mind, admitting your thoughts one by one, as they need to be dealt with. This “attendant” allows your consciousness to remain free and not be besieged by your thoughts. But, as the “attendant” of your own mind, you don’t really have to “keep out” any thoughts or feelings. All you need to do is be aware of them. By simply acknowledging the presence of selfish or aggressive thoughts/feelings, they are no longer “you.” When you are present, your thoughts and feelings are nothing more than fleeting moments of experience- and they can no longer control you. Ego vanishes. This is the deepest separation as a form of giving- giving your attention to your own thoughts and feelings, you separate from them. When you give your thoughts and feelings space to just be, without trying to control them, you become free. And ironically, this kind of separation is simultaneously the deepest intimacy- intimacy with your own being. And in that intimacy, you will come to know directly who you actually are- not who you think you are! On this Shabbat Korakh, this Sabbath of Taking, may we fully “take” the only power we truly have- the power to be with what is- to be the space of awareness within which this moment unfolds. Good Shabbos! -b yosef Portion - Parshat Korakh 6/19/2014 0 Comments Once there was a farmer who lived on his farm with his son. The son grew up helping the farmer with all the chores- cleaning the chicken coup, milking the cows, planting, tending, harvesting and so on. As the son grew up, however, he became disdainful of the farm life. He resented his father for raising him in such a sheltered life, and he wanted to experience more. As he grew more and more restless, he would get into fights with his father, insulting him and calling him a bumpkin and a hick and so on. Eventually he left the farm and set out for a more urban evnvironment. He became a party animal, living for the nights when he would drink himself into oblivion with his newfound crowd of party animals. One such night, one of his companions who knew about the son’s origins got out of hand and started insulting him and his father. The son suddenly felt protective of his father’s honor, and threatened to beat the guy up. Some other people restrained him, and said “why don’t you settle it with a drinking contest?” They both agreed. As the son downed shot after shot, there was something different in the way he was drinking. In the past, he drank for his own pleasure. Now, he was drinking for his father. This gave him more drinking strength than ever, and he easily won the contest. The next night, when he went out drinking, he was reminded of what it was like to drink for his father, and how it somehow gave more strength and depth to his drinking, so he tried it again: Before taking a sip, he would say, “Dad, this is for you”. From then on, every night he went out, he would dedicate his partying to his father. After some time, he felt something like a fire kindle inside his heart. A great love for his father grew inside him. Sometimes he would sit with the glass of wisky for long periods without drinking anything, just savoring this love that was growing within him. Eventually, he began to realize that the love within him was infinitely more deep and sweet than the scrap of pleasure he got from the alchohol. He knew he had to return home, but he felt so guilty facing his father. When he arrived and saw his father, he said, “I left here because I had felt like I was just one of your animals, mindlessly doing your farm work. But now that I’ve been out in the world, I feel like I am not even as good as your animals, because your animals at least faithfully serve you, while I just run around after my own pleasure. I am less than an animal. But I love you, and I realize I was wrong, and I want to come back.” The father was in tears. “My son, these animals don’t serve me on purpose. They follow their instincts, and I know how to work with them so that they serve me and the farm. You, on the other hand, have chosen to some back out of love, and that is the most precious thing to me.” In the story, the son follows his own desires, satisfying himself through drinking. But when he accidentally imbues his drinking with love for his father, the drinking begins to have a new effect. It becomes a path of transformation. On Shabbat, as we come together to sing and dance and praise in joy, most of us are drinking in the tavern for God. We’re doing enjoyment, but dedicating it to God, so it becomes a path of transforming the heart, of awakening the power of love. But in order for that power to become a true transformation, we have to take it back to the farm. But of course there is something in the way; it is easier to drink for the farmer than to clean the chicken coup for the farmer. So the story is really about the very beginning of the son’s spiritual work- the real work begins after the story ends. That’s where the transformation of ego happens- when you clean the chicken coup, when you endure the hardships of life and are able to dedicate it to the One. The other day, I lost my kippa, and I was afraid- it’s my last one, what am I going to do? Then I realized what a crass materialist I was being. What kind of spirituality is that? Worrying about a hat? So insignificant compared to the real hardships of life, but it affected me. But those to me are the golden spiritual moments- when you get to see your own ego at work- because that is the opportunity to drop it for real. Real transformation happens in the flow of actual life, when we offer the whole of our life on the altar of actuality. In this parasha, Korakh makes a rebelion against Moses with 250 followers, accusing Moses of exalting himself over everyone else, and calling for something more democratic. The midrash asks why this incident comes right after the mitzvah of tzitzit- the ritual fringes worn the corners of the one's garment to remind one of the Path. The tzitzit are supposed to have a special thread of blue in them. It answers that Korakh came to Moses with a garment made entirely of blue and asked Moses, “Does this need tzitzit?” Metaphorically, Korakh was saying that he was totally aware of God’s presence everywhere, so there was no need for the specific tzitzit as a reminder; Korakh was like the garment that was all blue. There was no need for Moses to lead him, Korakh argued, because whatever happens, God is always in control anyway. It’s a very spiritual argument, and it is actually true from a spiritual point of view. But he was using a spiritual argument to justify being a farm animal rather than being a son of God. The farm animals do what they do, and the farmer manipulates the situation. But the son comes back to serve out of love and awareness of the farmer, and that’s the difference between Moses and Korakh. Korakh’s actions did ultimately serve a holy purpose- the story is in the Torah, and is part of the Teaching, but Korakh was motivated by ego. Moses was trying to do his job. So the point is not using spiritual ideas as argument; the point is our relationship to the present moment. It is being willing to allow this moment to be what it really is anyway, and serving That. This is what it means to serve in simkha- in joy- but also in yirah- in fearsome awe; because only awe and surrender can the things we resist transform us into hearts that burn with Divine Love. May we merit truly spiritual lives, so that the ecstasy of drinking in the tavern be channeled into cleaning the chicken coup. Shabbat Shalom!
בְּשָׁל֣וֹם יַחְדָּו אֶשְׁכְּבָ֪ה וְאִ֫ישָׁ֥ן כִּֽי־אַתָּ֣ה יְי לְבָדָ֑ד לָ֝בֶ֗טַח תּוֹשִׁיבֵֽנִי׃
In peaceful unity I lie down and sleep, for You, Hashem, cause me to dwell in solitude and security. (Psalm 4:9) There is an inner peace and unity of being that is found in the Eternal – that is, in the continuous is-ness of the present moment. In this unity, there is no other, no sense of “me” and “not me.” To dwell in this unity, then, is to be truly alone, because there is nothing that arises in our field of awareness that is separate from awareness; this is the supreme security in which we can constantly trust. …l’vadad lavetakh toshivieni – to dwell in solitude and security. In fact, the word for security, vetakh, is the same root as “trust” – בטח. As is says in Tehilim: וַאֲנִי בְּחַסְדְּ֒ךָ בָטַֽחְתִּי – As for me, in Your kindness I trust (vatakhti)… (Psalm 13:6) But this inner peace, this “dwelling” in “solitude and security” is not something solid, not an experience that persists permanently in time. It is, in fact, nothing but the open space within which everything is constantly changing; therefore, if we want this ultimate peace and security, we must stop resisting the fact that there is no permanent peace and security in time. So then why strive for it if it can never be permanently established? On an inner level, this was the argument of the spies who were sent by Moses to go investigate the land and bring back reports. שְׁלַח לְךָ֣ אֲנָשִׁ֗ים וְיָתֻ֨רוּ֙ אֶת־אֶ֣רֶץ כְּנַ֔עַן Shelakh l’kha – Send for yourselves people who will spy out the land... (Numbers 13:2) In the plain meaning, the spies brought back reports that the land was good, but that it was also inhabited by giants, thus discouraging the Israelites from attempting to “conquer the land.” But on a deeper level, “conquering the land” represents יי לְבָדָ֑ד לָ֝בֶ֗טַח תּוֹשִׁיבֵֽנִ – “Dwelling with the Divine in solitude and security.” The spies are saying that yes, peace and security are real, but we won’t be able to have them as a permanent state; the “giants” of thoughts and feelings are too powerful. So, why even bother? But there is a hint: וְהִ֨תְחַזַּקְתֶּ֔ם וּלְקַחְתֶּ֖ם מִפְּרִ֣י הָאָ֑רֶץ וְהַ֨יָּמִ֔ים יְמֵ֖י בִּכּוּרֵ֥י עֲנָבִֽים “…strengthen yourselves to take from the fruit of the land.” And those days were the days of the first grapes… (Numbers 13:20) “Fruit” is a metaphor for the experience we seek. Here the fruit is the grape, and the word for grape is ענב – anav. These three letters, ayin, nun and bet, have meanings: ע Ayin – means “eye,” and so represents “seeing.” נ Nun is associated with nifilah which means “fallen,” and refers to the fact that Israel would eventually “fall” to her enemies. נ Nun, then, represents impermanence. ב Bet means “house,” the archetype of which is the ancient Temple in Jerusalem which would eventually “fall” to the Babylonians. Together, then, ענב anav means “seeing the impermanence of sacred structure” – that is, the impermanence of higher states of consciousness. The “grapes” that the spies bring back are plump and good – meaning, the “fruit” of experiencing unity and peace is possible – but states of consciousness are not permanent. So, on this level, the spies are embodying a self-defeating attitude that can thwart our practice: “I can’t seem to hold on to the states I experience in meditation, so maybe I shouldn’t even bother.” But, there is another word which shares letters and sounds with ענב anav (grape): ענוה – anavah – “humility.” In this word, the ב bet is replaced with a ו vav (which has the same “v” sound). When the ו vav comes as a prefix to a word, it means “and,” implying movement into the future, the embrace of change, the opening to something new. This is the key: The true בֶטַח vetakh, the true security, comes not from holding on to a particular state or moment; it comes not from trying to preserve the “fruits” of our practice, the עֲנָבִֽים anavim which are destined to die and decay. It comes instead from ענוה anavah, humility, which is openness and surrender to the impermanence of all forms and experiences. Because in this openness, there is the ever-renewing ו vav, the ever-saying “yes” to the newness that the moment brings. And this is the paradox: when we say “yes and” to the moment as it is becoming, when we embody the openness of ענוה anavah and let go of the עֲנָבִֽים anavim, the “fruits,” we discover the שָׁלוֹם יַחְדָּו, shalom yakhdav, the true peace and unity of all being, beyond yet including all experiences, the space of Reality Itself, supremely Alone in all Its resplendence. The Baal Shem Tov told: “Once I ascended to Paradise and many people went with me. The closer I came to the Garden, the more of them disappeared, and when I walked through Paradise, there were only a few of them left. But when I stood by the Tree of Life and looked around, I seemed to be alone…”
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6/26/2019 0 Comments שְׁלַח לְךָ֣ אֲנָשִׁ֗ים וְיָתֻ֨רוּ֙ אֶת־אֶ֣רֶץ כְּנַ֔עַן Send for yourselves people who will spy out the land... In our family, one of the things we have to watch out for on Shabbat is how to distribute the grape juice in such a way so that our seven-year-old daughter doesn’t feel ripped off, though we usually fail. This past Shabbat was no exception. “He got more than me!” she screamed after Kiddush. There is a famous teaching of Reb Menachem Mendel (the Kotzker Rebbe) about comparing yourself to others, that has an unusually Ernie and Bert-esque quality to it. I quoted it to her in an attempt to arrest the nearly inevitable cascade of fighting and crying that would surely ensue: “You know what the Kotzker Rebbe said about that?” “What?” she asked. I had her hooked! “He said, ‘If I am I because I am I and you are you because you are you, then I am I, and you are you. But if I am I because you are you, and you and you because I am I, then I am not I, and you are not you!’ So, don’t worry how much grape juice your brother has!” She laughed a little. It worked – sort of. Not all the other people at the table were convinced. “That doesn’t mean anything!” someone said. And it’s true, this riddle-like quote eluded me for many years. I knew it sounded interesting, but I didn’t understand the point until I saw the context in a book. Apparently, the quote was in response to someone comparing one person to another – “So-and-so is so much greater than so-and-so…” and the Kotzker responded with that quote. So, apparently what he is saying is: don’t base your identity on your idea of how you see others – or put more simply, don’t compare yourself to others. It may seem silly to see how a child compares herself with her brother and feels cheated out of grape juice, but comparing ourselves with others and feeling inferior or superior as a result is an all-pervasive psychological reality for most adults as well. We may feel uncertain about whether we are really worthy of what we have, or whether our abilities are good enough to maintain what we have, or to acquire what we lack. We may worry about losing our abilities as we age, or any number of other things. And it’s understandable – we really don’t know the answer to what will be. Uncertainty is the Truth. Some deal with uncertainty by trying to pretend it’s not there. We may try to convince ourselves that we are great, that we’re better than others. We all know people who have this kind of insecurity-based arrogance. Or, we may affirm the worst so that we don’t get disappointed. The problem with both these approaches is they’re not based on Truth; they’re based on a reaction to our discomfort with Truth. רַבָּן גַּמְלִיאֵל הָיָה אוֹמֵר, עֲשֵׂה לְךָ רַב, וְהִסְתַּלֵּק מִן הַסָּפֵק Rabban Gamaliel used to say: “Make for yourself a teacher, and remove yourself from uncertainty…” – Pirkei Avot 1:16 On the surface, this mishna seems to be saying that a teacher can take away your uncertainty. But the Hebrew implies a deeper message: Aseh l’kha rav – make for/to yourself a teacher – in other words, make that which is to yourself – whatever is arising in this moment – into your teacher. Pay attention to the fullness of this moment, which is the only thing you truly know, rather than dwelling on what you don’t know in your mind. In this way, “remove yourself from uncertainty” – that is, remove your consciousness from dwelling in thinking mode, and bring it into Being mode, into connection with the Truth of this moment. But, you might say, what if there is fear in this moment? What if there is anxiety? What if there is great resistance to uncertainty? The Israelites were also afraid of the uncertainty of confronting the “giants” in the land, but Joshua and Caleb said to them: …אַל־תִּֽירְאוּ֙ אֶת־עַ֣ם הָאָ֔רֶץ כִּ֥י לַחְמֵ֖נוּ הֵ֑ם ... וַֽיהוָ֥ה אִתָּ֖נוּ Do not fear the people of the land, for they are our bread… the Divine is with us! -Bamidbar 14:9 Ki lakhmeinu – they are our bread! “Bread” means nourishment. When we fully confront our difficult emotions and open to the fear or anger or whatever, it literally becomes “food” for consciousness. Whatever we tend to resist can actually help us become more awake – if we decide not to be fearful of our fear, and instead open to the fullness of whatever arises in the field of awareness, without getting seduced by it. Because actually, all emotions are literally made out of awareness – and furthermore, it’s not our awareness, but the awareness of Reality, of the Divine, incarnating as us…and that is infinite power, infinite freedom, if we are willing to recognize it and stand firmly in the Presence of Truth… כִּי עִמָּנוּ אֵל… אַל תִּירָא מִפַּחַד Al Tira MiPakhad – Ki Imanu El! Don't be Afraid of Fear, For the Divine is With Us! Bold in Holiness – Parshat Shelakh L'kha 6/8/2018 0 Comments Once, Reb Zushia commented on the saying of the sages, "the bold-faced will go to hell, and the shame-faced to paradise." "'The bold-faced will go to hell,'" said Reb Zushia, "this means that if you are bold in holiness, you don't have to fear descending into hell. You can engage in all kinds of worldly things, and you will receive the light hidden within them. But if you're shame-faced in your holiness, you'd better stick to the paradise of prayer and meditation and stay away from the world..." There is a taste of this idea in this week's reading, Parshat Sh'lakh L'kha, in which Moses send out spies to check out the Land and bring back a report: שְׁלַח לְךָ֣ אֲנָשִׁ֗ים וְיָתֻ֨רוּ֙ אֶת־אֶ֣רֶץ כְּנַ֔עַן Send for yourselves people who will spy out the land... Most of the spies come back and say that the land is wonderful, but that there are “giants,” and they discourage the Israelites from entering the land on account of the giants. They are being “shame-faced” in a sense, lacking courage and confidence. There are times for withdrawing from the world and from people, in order to heal or gain perspective. But when it's time to move back into the world, it is good to be “bold-faced” with your holiness. Meaning, have confidence that there is a task you can do – that only you can do. It might be something you need to learn. It might be serving others in a particular way. Or, it might just be an opportunity to surrender on a deeper level. To be “bold” doesn't mean you have to have confidence in yourself. The spies in the story lacked self-confidence, but the remedy would not have been to bolster their self-confidence. Rather, the remedy would be for them to have had Divine-confidence. Hashem told them not to be afraid; if they had Divine-confidence, their lack of self-confidence wouldn't have been a problem. Similarly, if you don't have self-confidence, don't worry! You don't need it. It's often better not to have self-confidence. As Hillel says in Pirkei Avot, “Don't believe in yourself until the day you die.” (2:5) But trust: here you are, in such-and-such situation, and this is the situation you should be in; you have some unique role to fulfill. Trust that the Divine “put” you here for a reason. Trust, trust, trust! That's liberation! 6.12.17 Hashem ro’i v’lo ekhsar- the Divine is my shepherd, I shall not lack. Binot deshe yarbitzeini- in lush meadows the Divine lays me down- al mei menukhot y’nahaleini- beside tranquil waters the Divine leads me. Nafshi yeshovev- my soul is revived. These words from Psalm 23 reflect a common attitude about spirituality, that realization of the Divine leads to pure bliss and freedom from all suffering- from anger, fear, judgment, and so on. But if we go a little further down, it says: Ta’arokh l’fanai shulkhan neged tzorerai- You prepare before me a table in front of my tormentors… In front of my tormentors? I thought we were just lounging in the grass beside the tranquil waters- how did my tormentors get into the picture? These images hint at an important distinction that will help you navigate your practice and avoid a very common pitfall. This is the distinction between the idea of getting rid of negativity all together, which is misleading, versus shifting the context within which the negativity arises, which is actually what the practice is all about. One reason this can be confusing is because the practice of Presence willof course decrease negativity and suffering. It decreases stress, it decreases repetitive and unhelpful thinking, and definitely opens you to more joy and bliss. Al mei menukhot y’nahaleini- beside tranquil waters the Divine leads me.And at some point, you’re likely to experience all negativity dropping away completely. However, this does not mean that the possibility of negativity has been eliminated, and that’s where you can get into trouble. Because once you’ve had some deep success with your practice, once you’re “lying down by the tranquil waters” so to speak and the Eternal dimension of Being has become a direct and palpable experience for you, there can be a tendency to think that negativity shouldn’t bother you at all anymore; that your feelings should never get hurt, that you should never feel insulted, that nothing should make you angry and so on. Then, when some negativity does arise, you can mistakenly conclude that you’ve somehow lost it, that the power of Presence isn’t working for you anymore, when really you’ve just been given a tremendous gift, and you just need to shift the way you’re looking at it to see the gift. Why? Gam ki elekh b’gei tzalmavet- even though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death- lo ira ra ki atah imadi- I will fear no evil, for You are with me. The real power of Presence is not that it destroys the possibility of negativity arising. After all, we’re all in the gei tzalmavet- the valley of the shadow of death. But rather the power of Presence is that it changes the context in which everything arises, including negativity. But, you can’t know this and prove it to yourself unless you have a chance to practice it, which is why the arising of negativity is a gift. So when negativity arises, use it as an opportunity to realize that you are not trapped by the negativity- ki atah imadi- know that the Divine is with you, because the Divine is the eternal dimension of Being, and this eternal dimension is npt separate from the space of your own awareness, within which the negativity as well as everything else comes and goes. And, you can use the Three Portals of IJM to realize this in any moment. First is the Portal of the Heart. A feeling has arisen that needs to be felt, so be generous. Offer your awareness to it- l’kha. Second is the Portal of the Body. Now that you’ve offered your Presence, sustain it by anchoring it in your body and your breathing. This keeps you with your present moment experience and calms the tendency to spin off into unhelpful thinking. Na’aseh-returning again and again to sustaining presence in your body. Third is the Portal of Awareness itself. This is where the shift in context happens most fully. Bring to mind that whatever you’re feeling is happening within awareness, is made out of awareness, and that the awareness itself is a vast field without border or limit, while whatever particular experience you’re having is something that comes and goes- v’nishma- you are the space of perception. There’s a hint of this in the Torah story of the spies who are sent to investigate the promised land. InParshat Shelakh Lekha,God speaks to Moses and says, “Shelakh lekha anashim v’yaturu et eretz Cana’an- send for yourself men to spy out the land of Cana’an…” The spies go out and climb a mountain to check out the land, and they return with giant grapes, pomegranates and figs. They report back, “Yes! This land flows with milk and honey and here are some of the amazing fruits growing there. But, the inhabitants of the land are giants; they would destroy us. Van’hi v’eineinu kakhagavim- we were like grasshoppers in our own eyes- v’khein hayinu b’eineihem- and so we were in their eyes.” When a person ascends the mountain of transcendence and eats the fruit of joy and bliss that comes from such an awakening, there can sometimes be a tremendous frustration and resignation when you come down from the mountain into the gei tzalmavet- the valley of the shadow of death- the place of ordinary, sometimes negative emotions such anger, fear, sadness, and so on. That’s when we need the words of Yehoshua- the words of encouragement that Joshua speaks to them: Hashem itanu- al tira’um- the Divine is with us- don’t be afraid of them! Meaning that just because you came down from a high experience of joy and bliss into the valley of negativity, in fact nothing has changed. The spacious freedom you experienced on the mountain, so to speak, is still the open space of your own awareness within which the experience of negativity arises. You can conquer any negativity not by fighting against it directly, but by simply seeing that it comes and goes within the space of this moment, and you are that space. Hashem itanu- your very nature is Divine, meaning that you are space of this moment. But of course, that’s not what happens in the story. Instead, the Israelites are afraid. They say, “Forget it! Let’s go back to Egypt.” Meaning, let’s go back to the ordinary and familiar way of being, before we experienced the radical freedom of awakening. Then, they change their minds out of fear of punishment, and try to go fight the enemy after all. But Moses says to them, “Lo yiyeh Hashem imakhem- God will not be with you!” They go anyway, and get pounded. So how can this be? If your nature is the Eternal space of this moment, how can that change? Of course, it doesn’t change, it’s our awareness of this fact that changes. We get seduced by our feelings and believe them into giants. Rather than know our own vastness, “van’hi v’eineinu kakhagavim- we were like grasshoppers in our own eyes” and grasshoppers don’t want to get smooshed, so we try and fight our feelings, try to push them away, or deny them, and that just creates inner conflict so that- v’khein hayinu b’eineihem- so we were grasshoppers in their eyes- meaning, the very thing that we’re fighting gets bigger and bigger because negativity is empowered by more negativity. On the other hand, if you know Hashem itanu- the Divine is literally your own nature- then al tira’um- there’s never anything to be afraid of in your experience. You’re on top of the world? No big deal it’s a passing experience. You’re in the depths of hell? No problem, it will pass. Rather than get caught up in your experience which is always changing, realize the space within which your experience is arising. You can do that through the practice of Presence in general, and through daily meditation in particular. Then you’ll know the truth of the words of Yehoshua- “Al tir’u et ha’am ha’aretz- don’t be afraid of the people of the land,” meaning, don’t be afraid of any particular experiences that arise, “Ki lakhmeinu hem- for they are our bread,” meaning, when you stand courageously in the midst of difficult experiences, they become food for your awakening, deepening your grounded-ness in the reality of Presence. Then you’ll know directly, Hashem itanu- the Divine is with us- al tira’um”- there’s nothing to be afraid of. (So on this Shabbat Shelakh,the Sabbath of Sending, let us send forth our full attentiveness with courage and confidence into the depths of whatever arises in our experience, thereby eating the feast of whatever avodah- whatever practice is put before us. And through this, may the consciousness of our species continue to evolve and bring us speedily to a time of freedom from the horrors of ego and violence that continue to plague our species. Kein y’hi ratzon, so may it be, Good Shabbos.) So see if you can really take this in, that you need not be afraid of any particular experience. Of course this doesn’t mean that you should go and do things that are unsafe or that create negative experiences, there’s no reason for that either, but once a negative experience has already arisen, you can use it to deepen your awaken-ness- to know, as the psalm says, “Shavti b’veit Hashem- I dwell in the house of the Divine” meaning, you are constantly dwelling in and as the space of this moment- “l’orekh yamim- for long days”- meaning, for the borderless and timeless Present. Let’s sing. Beyond and Back- Parshat Shelakh'Lkha 6/29/2016 1 Comment In the seventies, when I was in second or third grade, there was a movie I loved called “Beyond and Back.” “Beyond and Back” was about the near death experiences of several different people. As their stories were told, almost all of them described hovering above their dead bodies and grieving loved ones, rushing through a tunnel of light, feeling immense love and oneness, then having the sense that it “wasn’t yet their time” and returning back to their bodies. I loved this movie, of course, because the people claimed to have direct experience of something that most consider to be an impenetrable mystery- the mystery of death. Death is the one journey all of us will take, or so it seems, and so to find information on what happens when you die can be tremendously reassuring to those who “don’t like surprises” (as both of my children tell me they don’t). As I got older, I had a similar experience with regard to spirituality- I was much more attracted to those who seemed to have direct experience of enlightenment than those who merely quoted scriptures. In a sense, authentic spiritual teachers are like those who have died and come back to tell about it. Only with enlightenment, it’s not about physical death, but a totally different kind of death. In this week’s reading, God tells Moses, “Shelakh l’kha anashim vayaturu et Eretz Canaan-” “Send for yourself people to spy out the land of Canaan…” Canaan is the “Promised Land." It is the aim of the liberation from Egypt (Mitzrayim- the place of constriction- tzarim- narrows) and the ultimate home of b’nei Yisrael- those who see through “straight to God” (Yishar- straight- El- God). In other words, the Land is a metaphor, pointing to the aim of spiritual liberation. What is that aim? It is described as flowing with halav ud’vash- with milk and honey. What is milk? Milk is pure nourishment. What is honey? Honey is sweetness. There’s a sweetness and nourishment that flows from Reality, but to receive it there has to be a relaxing of all contraction (mitzrayim) and an openness to simply Being with this moment as it is. But most of those spies came back with bad reports, telling of insurmountable “giants in the land.” You too might be skeptical about Liberation, and there might be fear. That’s because you know on some level that if you truly open to Reality as it is, there will be pain- Reality is sometimes painful. With resistance, at least you can hold back some of that pain. That’s the advice of the “spies” who reported back about the “giants” in the land. “We are like grasshoppers in their eyes…” You might think- “I’m not a super human. I’m just human. How can I possibly accept everything? How can I surrender? How can I become present?” In that fear, there’s the tendency to turn spiritual awakening into just an idea, into something to talk about, but not something you can really be. When that happens, the spies with the bad reports have won. Like the Israelites who were condemned to wander another forty years in the desert, the intellectualizing of spiritual awakening keeps the searching and wandering going on and on, and puts off the Arriving for another time. But you don’t have to be superhuman; you don’t have to be anything in particular, because openness is not a special thing; it is Nothing. It is just a willingness to allow everything to be as it is. It is told about Rabbi Leib, one of the disciples of the Baal Shem Tov, that when he heard rabbis expound on the Torah, he would remark- “What does all this intellectual expounding amount to? A person should totally be a Torah, so that you can learn from their smallest movements as well as their motionless cleaving to the Oneness. They must become empty and spacious like heaven itself, of which it is said- “Ayn omer v’ayn devarim- There is no speech and there are no words…” This is the spaciousness of Presence- the “heaven” that is born within when resistance dies, but you do not. On this Shabbat Shelakh, the Sabbath of Sending, may we open to the energy of liberation that is being sent our way, constantly, always in this moment. And when we do, may any pain that Reality throws our way be brief, and may we drink deeply from the milk and honey of Being. Good Shabbos!
My wife Lisa tells a story that back in the nineties, she joined a group of egalitarian rabbinical students who had gathered at the back of the plaza of the Western Wall in the Old City, in Jerusalem, to pray and chant Torah at dawn on Shavuot. This was a bit risky, as women and men praying together is considered to be illegal by hareidim (ultra-Orthodox Jews), who dominated (and still dominate) the religious norms of Israel and especially of the plaza of the Kotel.
At some point, while a woman was reading Torah, a few young hareidi boys gathered around the group, snickering, pointing and making fun. The woman just continued, ignoring the taunts, though visibly rattled. But soon, the older brothers and cousins started showing up, and the taunting intensified. Soon, young men dressed in black and white had surrounded the colorful group and continued with louder yells and harsher cursing. The commotion aroused the attention of the police, who quickly came between the hareidim and the students, protecting and allowing them to continue their service despite the increasingly dangerous threat that was forming all around them. As Lisa describes, the whole scene was a fantastic display of color: the rainbow shades of the egalitarian rabbinical students’ dress in the center, a ring blue police uniforms surrounding the rainbow colors, and a growing throng of the black and white traditional male dress surrounding the blue. Finally, they finished, many of them shaking and weeping, and the police began escorting them from the plaza. The hareidi men followed and continued hurling insults. One old man with a long beard and long payos (side locks) approached one of the women and shouted: “I have to tell you!” “Don’t talk to me!” the women yelled back. “I have to tell you!” the old man persisted. “I don’t want to hear what you have to tell me!” yelled the woman. “I have to tell you!” retorted the old man, “You are right! And change takes a long, long time.” Today is June 8, 2020, the 16th of Sivan, 5780 by the Jewish date. When the world started to radically change in March due to the Corona pandemic, I heard many people talking about how this was the beginning of a fundamental shift in the world, that this would be the end of the old paradigm and the beginning of a new one. I was skeptical; I thought that for sure there would be profound effects from the virus, but that for the most part, the virus would eventually go away and things would return to a state similar to before the virus. But now we are in a different time; I know longer think that way. Rather, it seems we are at a point of turning after a "long long time" of building pressure. There appears to be an extreme shift in consciousness taking place all over the world, catalyzed by the murder of George Floyd. The reality of racism was never a secret, but the degree to which it is being unflinchingly faced and actively condemned through world-wide protests is unprecedented. This profound recognition of injustice is described by some as the state of being “woke,” and indeed there is kind of awakening happening on a global scale. Does this awakening have anything in common with what we call spiritual awakening? Is there a relationship between being “woke” and being “spiritually awake?” Being “woke” seems to point to outer reality, to issues of the world, while spiritual awakening seems to point to inner reality, to issues of consciousness. Is there a relationship between the two? On a recent episode of the Majority Report, an African American guest made an interesting distinction between “racism” and “bigotry” that I think sheds light on the distinction between the inner and outer realities to which being “woke” and being “spiritually awake” point. The guest told a story of when he was a kid in grade school, and a white kid made a nasty remark about his skin color. This white kid, he said, was prejudiced, but he wasn’t racist, because the kid wasn’t in a position of power. Racism, this guest explained, is a question of power and authority. While bigotry is an inner belief or attitude, racism describes an economic and legal system that favors one race over another, according to this guest. There was also a woman on the show who followed his remarks by expressing what she thought the goal of the protests should be. “We can’t get rid of bigotry,” she said, “but we can and should push for changing the societal structures that express bigotry.” Well said. We cannot force people to change inwardly, but we do have the possibility of forcing change in laws and systems externally. And yet, the global will to force outer change seems to have arisen from a profound inner change in millions of individuals. There seems to have been an “awakening” of sorts, catalyzed by outer events, to the reality of racial injustice. This “waking up” has not been the result of individuals working on themselves to become more aware, but rather it is the result of the “straw that broke the camel’s back” – a critical mass of perceived injustice has brought the issue to the forefront of collective awareness. And, as part of this awakening, many have reported the self- recognition of bigotry in their own thoughts and feelings. On an un-precedented scale, white people are beginning to say, “Yes, I have been racist too.” Here we have the meeting point between being “woke” and being “spiritually awake,” because spiritual awakening, at its core, means taking a fundamentally objective view of our own thoughts. Ordinarily, when our thoughts tell us that something is true, we tend not to question its truth. We identify with our thoughts, so much so that when people have different opinions, there is a tendency to actually feel threatened. Why? Because our sense of self is derived from our structure of thoughts and feelings; thoughts and feelings are the substance of ego. Ego, like any creature, fights to defend itself and stay alive. Just as an animal will be aggressive toward a perceived threat, so too does ego tend to be aggressive toward ideas that contradict its own deeply held assumptions and conditioning. So, for one to recognize racist thoughts within oneself, there has to be this basic shift into objectivity and willingness to question one’s own thoughts. There is a wonderful mishna that expresses this idea: הִלֵּל אוֹמֵר ... וְאַל תַּאֲמִין בְּעַצְמְךָ עַד יוֹם מוֹתְךָ Hillel said, “Don’t believe in yourself until the day of your death…” – Pirkei Avot 2:5 Hillel is saying, don’t believe everything you think! Recognize: here is a thought, here is a feeling. My mind is judging this person because they look such-and-such. A feeling of fear is arising in my body. Okay, does that mean this is a bad person? The bigot doesn’t ask the question, but just mechanically accepts whatever the mind generates. But the “woke” person, and the spiritually awake person as well, will question these thoughts. To be “woke” is, at its best, to participate in the evolution of consciousness, to break free of cultural denial and be a vessel for positive change, to be an emissary of the Divine impulse toward justice and peace. But it need not stop there; the deeper potential of being “woke” is to continue on to spiritual awakening – to push on toward questioning not only our assumptions about race and class and economy, but to question the very structure thought itself. Because, just as we long for freedom for all people on the external level, so too there is the longing for freedom on the inner level, for knowing the Divine essence that we are beyond ego. Our essence is not only beyond race, but beyond all limited identity, because it is the vast and formless space of awareness itself. And in this respect, there is an aspect of spiritual wakefulness that might be instructive to "woke"-fulness. There can be a tendency on the part of one who has recognized bigotry in oneself to identify with the bigotry and, as a result, to cultivate a sense of guilt and shame. In the short run, this is a good thing; we must admit our mistakes, apologize and make restitution when possible to create a space for healing. But then we must recognize: we are not our thoughts, we are not defined by our conditioning. אַל תְּהִי רָשָׁע בִּפְנֵי עַצְמְךָ…רַבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן אוֹמֵר Rabbi Shimon said… “Don’t judge yourself to be a wicked person.” – Pirkei Avot 2:18 Nowadays I often hear white people say, “I realize that I too am a racist.” Yes, you have racist conditioning, racist thoughts arise in the mind, racist feelings arise in the body. But all these are arising within the field of awareness that you are beyond the body, beyond thoughts, beyond feelings. You are that field, that vast spaciousness, beyond all form. But to really know this for yourself, you must be the witness to not just your racist thoughts, but to all your thoughts. There is a hint in the parshah: בְּהַעֲלֹֽתְךָ֙ אֶת־הַנֵּרֹ֔ת אֶל־מוּל֙ פְּנֵ֣י הַמְּנוֹרָ֔ה יָאִ֖ירוּ שִׁבְעַ֥ת הַנֵּרֽוֹת When you kindle the lamps, the seven lamps should shine toward the face of the menorah…
This verse describes how the flames of the menorah, that ancient seven-armed, sacred lamp of the mishkan, should shine their light back upon their base. It is a strange verse; we know that the light of fire cannot be directed. The light of fire simply shines outward in all directions. But that is the point: light is a metaphor for awareness. Awareness also “shines” outward in all directions; open to perceiving whatever is going on externally. But, if we want to awaken, if we want to know ourselves as the light of awareness, we have to deliberately shine that light back at ourselves. We have to look objectively at our own thoughts and feelings and recognize, “I am not limited by that. I am not limited by any identity; I am this Light of Presence, free and inherently benevolent.” B’ezrat Hashem, today’s revolutionary movement will bear the fruit of a much higher degree of racial justice in the world. People are demanding it; I pray that this moment does not fade into distraction, but that we stay intent enough to bring about that change, amein. But, we must also press on past the immediate issues of the day, to overcome and transcend the source of all violence and aggression – the human ego. Because if we do not, its thirst for power and control will simply take on new forms, giving rise to yet unheard-of injustice and suffering. Yes, of course we must work for external change to b’ezrat Hashem fix and heal the horrors of racism and injustice. But also, we must go to their root cause, and we can only do that by taking our own spiritual awakening seriously and practicing. Because in doing so, we fulfill our responsibility toward the awakening of all consciousness from the nightmare of ego that has burdened humanity for so long...
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6/16/2019 0 Comments This week one of our community members sent me an article criticizing the “mindfulness industry” and asked for my thoughts on the topic. The article claims that today’s mindfulness marketing totally misleads people into thinking that all they need to get rid of stress and be happy is to practice mindfulness, while ignoring the real problems in our society that actually create stress and unhappiness. While this may be true about mindfulness as an industry, it actually points to a much deeper problem that exists not just in spirituality but in every human endeavor, and that’s the problem of reductionism. When we get excited about something – whether it’s an art, a philosophy, a spiritual practice, a political movement, anything – we tend to reduce everything to that, and ignore other things of vital importance. The mindfulness industry may be exploiting this tendency toward reductionism for its own marketing ends, but the root of the problem is deeper. And, it’s worth noting that there are both “spiritual” people and “political” people who do this: “if only we would change society," or "if only we would meditate enough," – then our problems would be solved. In the realm of spirituality, this is sometimes called spiritual bypass, but there is also political bypass, economic bypass, and many other bypasses. The real trick is, how can we be truly integral in our view and not bypass? One thing that can helpful is to understand why we might bypass. Why would we believe in something so strongly that we ignore other things that are also important? If you work in a kitchen, you have to wash both of your hands. No matter how clean you get your left hand, you still have to wash your right hand; there is no point at which your left hand gets SO clean that you no longer have to wash your right hand. Why would we think otherwise when it comes to other facets of life? There are two basic reasons this might happen: The first reason is that we may recognize some core truth, and that truth gets exaggerated into a bypass. In the case of spirituality, this isn’t hard to see: the more awake we become, the more we are able to be of genuine service to those around us. While our spiritual practice may not seem to have any discernible effect on our political/economic system, it can have a profound effect on the real people we interact with every day. This is no small thing – as we know, our daily interactions with others affect not only the tone of our own lives, but have an incalculable effect beyond our immediate experience on countless beings whom we may never meet. And, while some of us may sometimes have a discernible and occasionally profound effect at the political level, nearly all of us are constantly affecting and are being affected by others that we encounter daily. The quality of our interactions, especially with family and others we are close with, can sometimes make the difference between life and death, or between a healthy life and a life of alienation and misery. It is understandable, then, that in knowing the profoundly transformative and life-changing power of waking up in one’s life, that one might “overstep” and assume that if we awaken, everything else will simply take care of itself. So, it is good to remember: meditation can have a profoundly positive effect, but that doesn’t mean that it will necessarily and automatically “trickle down” to solve all the world’s problems, or even other personal problems such as health or money issues. For those, we may certainly have to do something else. But still, whatever we may have to do, Presence (or mindfulness) can help to open the inner space so that we can clearly see the choices before us, rather than be mired in conditioning and reactivity. The second reason is the plain fact that we are not in control of what happens. Nowadays, many of us are experiencing such extreme distress about our larger political and social realities, that it can be overwhelming. Combine that with the fact that no matter what we do, we are not guaranteed any positive outcome, and we can become tempted to give up on that arena. We can be tempted to focus instead solely on the immediate personal realm, where we may be more likely to have some positive effect. We know that we can’t control our society – so why should we drive ourselves crazy trying? Resignation is seductive, and to avoid the pain of despair, we may adopt the belief that we really are doing our best simply by meditating. There is a wonderful rabbinic aphorism to help us avoid these pitfalls. In Pirkei Avot, Rabbi Tarfon says: לֹא עָלֶיךָ הַמְּלָאכָה לִגְמֹר, וְלֹא אַתָּה בֶן חוֹרִין לִבָּטֵל מִמֶּנָּה. It is not upon you to finish the work, but neither are you free to withdraw from it. Simple, clean, and radiating with truth: yes, we have no certainty, we have no control. It is not upon us to figure it all out; we can’t figure it all out. But we can act, we should act, from where we are and from what we see and with what is available to us, to participate in tikun, in improving the situation. And that means, don’t reduce – the Divine needs to be realized bashamayim Uva’aretz – in the heavens and on the earth, both. There is a hint of this in the parshah, where Aaron is instructed to kindle the menorah: בְּהַעֲלֹֽתְךָ֙ אֶת־הַנֵּרֹ֔ת אֶל־מוּל֙ פְּנֵ֣י הַמְּנוֹרָ֔ה יָאִ֖ירוּ שִׁבְעַ֥ת הַנֵּרֽוֹת When you kindle the lamps, the seven lamps should shine toward the face of the menorah… It is a strange sentence – how can the light of the seven lamps be made to shine back toward the menorah? Light would simply shine out in all directions. But on a metaphorical level, the “seven lamps” are the many facets of human endeavor, such as politics, sciences, arts, relationships, and so on, and the menorah as a whole is a glyph that represents an integral vision. Each branch expresses its own unique “light” – its own expression of consciousness – and the trick is to get them all to illuminate their “root” – the unified human being, the one consciousness that we are beneath all our complexity, beneath all our multifaceted experience. How do we do that? By constantly working to bring our awareness into connection with the Divine Presence as it manifests in and as this moment, not merely as a technique to bring about a certain effect such as less stress or more happiness, but to be really open to how the Presence is calling upon us to respond, so that we may shine from all “seven branches” – in all dimensions of our lives and at all levels of responsibility, without bypassing even one… Who is Seeing? Parshat Beha'alotkha 5/29/2018 1 Comment Once, when Reb Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev was traveling, he stopped to spend the night in the town of Lwow. He knocked on the door of a very wealthy man and asked for lodging. “I have no use for vagrants like you! Why don’t you stay at the inn?” said the man. “I am not able to afford the inn,” replied Reb Levi Yitzhak. “Please, I won’t be any trouble, let me stay in one of your rooms just for the night.” “Well then, if you can’t afford the inn,” said the miserly rich man, “go around the corner to the schoolteacher. He likes to take in vagrants, and he will offer you a room, food and drink.” So, Reb Levi Yitzhak went around the corner to the schoolteacher and was offered lodging. But on his way there, someone in the town recognized him, and began to spread the word that the great Rabbi Levi Yitzhak was at the schoolteacher’s house. Before long, there were throngs of people crowding the house, trying to get a blessing from the master. Among the crowd was the miserly rich man, who pushed his way to the front. “Master! Master! Forgive me! I didn’t know who you were! Please come and stay with me. All the great rabbis who come through town stay with me!” “Do you know,” replied Reb Levi Yitzhak, “why such a fuss is made over Avraham and Sarah for their hospitality when they opened their home to the visiting angels and gave them food and drink? Didn’t Lot also invite them in and give them food? “But in the Torah’s description about Lot, it says, ‘vayovo’u shnei hamalakhim s’domah – two angels came to Sodom,”but with Avraham it says, ‘shloshah anashim nitzavim alav – three men were standing over him.’Lot saw majestic angels, whereas Avraham saw only dusty wayfarers…” It is easy to see the value of helping others out of love, without ulterior motive. But the “dusty wayfarers” are not just people in need; they can be any undesirable experiences that come to us. When was the last time you were annoyed with something or someone? Were you able to open yourself fully? Did you give your attention generously to the situation or were you like the miserly fellow: “don’t bother me!” Every experience is an opportunity to remember: “this, now, is the Divine, appearing to me in this form. This, now, is the moment to live my destiny, to step up to the task the Divine is now giving.” But to do that, you have to be aware not only of what is happening around you, but of what is happening within you. This week’s reading describes the lighting of the menorah: בְּהַֽעֲלֹֽתְךָ֙ אֶת־הַנֵּרֹ֔ת אֶל־מוּל֙ פְּנֵ֣י הַמְּנוֹרָ֔ה יָאִ֖ירוּ שִׁבְעַ֥ת הַנֵּרֽוֹת When you kindle the lamps, toward the face of the menorah shall the seven lamps shine. How can the lamps shine their light “toward the face of the menorah?” Light is awareness; the menorah is your own body. Ordinarily, our “light” tends to shine mostly “outward,” so that there’s a sense of “me” in the body, looking out. But shine your “light” back into your body, and you will be able to sense your own impulses, your own feelings. And as you sense them, you also transcend them; you are not your thoughts and feelings alone. You are the light.You are here now to be a light in the world, to be a beacon of hospitality toward everything that appears to you. To realize your own being as the "Light" of awareness, try inquiring: "Who is seeing?' "Shine!" Seven Affirmations for Liberation – Parshat Beha'alotkha 6/5/2017 Psalm 91 talks about a person yosheiv b’seiter Elyon- who sits in the refuge of the Most High. Such a person, it says, is protected from all danger. Rak b’einekha tabit- all they have to do is peer with their eyes- v’shilumat r’shayim tir’eh- and the retribution of the wicked they will see. So it sounds like it’s saying that when you take refuge in the Divine, then you’ll see anyone who does you harm be punished. But the words for retribution of the wicked, v’shilumat r’shayim, imply something much deeper. The root of retribution is shin-lamed-mem- the same as shalom- peace, as well as shalem- wholeness. In other words, it’s not talking about punishing your tormentors, but coming into harmony with them. And how do you do that? Rak b’einekha tabit- only peer with your eyes. In other words, when you only “see,” meaning when you stick to just being aware of the r’shayim- meaning the things that disturb you- rather than reacting, rather than judging, rather than trying to push or pull anything in any direction, then shilumat r’shayim tir’eh- the “seeing” meaning the perceiving itself creates a sense of shalem- a sense of wholeness and peace. This is because the more you simply perceive, the more you can sense yourself as the perceiving, rather than the reacting and the judging. And that perceiving, that deeper awareness, is always already at peace, always already whole, because perception is nothing but an open space, simply knowing and connecting with the experience of this moment. So how to you cultivate this kind of simple awareness? There’s a wonderful hint in this week’s Torah reading. In Parshat Beha’alotkha, it says, beha’alotkha et haneirot- when you kindle the flames- el mul p’nei hamenorah ya’iru shiv’at haneirot- toward the face of the menorah the seven fires shall cast their light. Now when the Kohanim would kindle the flames of the menorah, most likely they didn’t create the fire by rubbing sticks together. Rather, they had some fire already from which they would light the lamps, so that the act of lighting would be almost effortless. Once you have some flame, it’s not difficult to ignite another flame. Similarly, if you want to become present, it’s almost effortless because your awareness that connects with the simple reality of this moment is already here. All you need is the intention of becoming present, and miraculously it happens almost by itself. Beha’alotkha et haneirot- to light the fire of awareness- just ask yourself, what is present? And then you can notice- are there sounds that you’re perceiving? Are there sensations? Are there feelings? Emotions? Thoughts? It’s very simple because with Presence, you’re not doing anything about anything, you’re just staying in the noticing. And when you do that, there’s this wonderful paradox. On one hand, this temple of your own body comes into the foreground. Your own breathing, ordinarily taken for granted, becomes the central event. Your body is like the menorah- just as the menorah supports the fire, so your body is the basis for your consciousness, and when you become present, the lamps of awareness are all facing into your body. On the other hand, just as the light that shines on the menorah isn’t confined to the menorah but shines without limit or border, so too your awareness isn’t confined to your body at all, but rather is an open field, vast, spacious and without border or limit. So as you notice what is present right now, see if you can also notice the vastness that notices, the light of awareness el mul p’nei hamenorah ya’iru- shining on the menorah of your body, and also beyond. And yet simple as Presence is, the forces that pull us away from Presence can be very powerful. Thankfully, we have not one but seven lamps- shiv’at haneirot- to help us. These are, of course, the seven sefirot of the Kabbalah, which correspond to the seven weeks of the Omer period that just ended with Shavuot- Hesed- Loving-kindness, Gevurah- Strength, Tiferet- Beauty or Harmony, Netzakh- Persistence, Hod- Gratitude and Humility, Yesod- Foundation and Malkhut- Kingdom. CHANT AND MEDITATION We can use each of these sefirot as kavanot, or affirmations of Presence, and when you do all of them together in sequence, their effect together is very very deep. Let’s try it now: Bringing your right hand to your heart for Hesed- Loving-Kindness, and please repeat after me: “I offer my awareness” Now left hand on your belly for Gevurah- Strength- and say, “to the temple of this body” Now touch your right hand to your forehead for Tiferet, Harmony, and say, “arising in the open space of awareness” And bringing right hand palm up to your right thigh for Netzakh, Persistence, and say, “Returning again and again to Presence” Now bring your left hand, palm up, to your left thigh for Hod, Gratitude, and say, “Giving thanks for this constant opportunity to Return” And bring your palms together over your heart for Yesod, the Foundation of living Presence, and say, “Expressing this Presence in loving words and actions” And finally opening your hands, palms up, for Malkhut- the Kingdom of Reality, and say, “Trusting the way everything is unfolding.” Amein. And chanting from the parshah, ya’iru- which means, they shine, referring to the seven sefirot. So as we chant ya’iru, perceptualizing the seven lights shining in your body. Ya’iru, Ya’iru And coming to silence, chanting Ya’iru___ silently in your mind for about seven minutes. When your mind wanders, you simply return to the chant- "Ya’iru" letting it vibrate in your mind... Chopped- Parshat Beha'alotkha 6/23/2016 During my son’s tenth year, he started getting really into gourmet cooking. He was inspired mostly by the competitive cooking show, “Chopped.” On Chopped, four contestants would cook under pressure, limited by time and strange ingredients. The challenge was to come up with something delicious and original under the constraints they were given. I’ve watched Chopped many times with him. One thing I’ve found interesting is that in the interview clips with the contestants, they would all boast about how great they were and how they would beat everyone. As the show unfolds, three courses are prepared- an appetizer, a main course and a dessert. After each course, the contestants are critiqued and one is “chopped” by the judges, until one winner is left at the end. As each contestant loses, we see some post-losing interview clips. Almost invariably, the contestants express a little sadness for losing. But then they express gratitude for having been given the opportunity to compete, and say they look forward to improving their skills and continuing to serve people with their cooking. It seems to me that the contestants must be coached by the producers on what to say in the interviews, because it just doesn’t make sense- people who boast generally don’t turn around and express gratitude and humility when they lose, and people who are humble generally don’t boast about how great they are. It's as if when they are "chopped," their egos get chopped as well! On the other hand, tremendous self-confidence can paradoxically live side-by-side with tremendous humility and gratitude. In this week’s reading, The Torah says of Moses- “V’ha’ish Moshe anav me’od- “And the man Moses was very humble…” Moses was humble? He was the tireless and sometimes ruthless leader of the Children of Israel, delivering laws from God and leading them in numerous victorious battles with their enemies. How could he have been humble? But humility doesn’t have to mean meekness or weakness. It means not grasping after greatness for yourself. It means understanding that the greatness you are comes from beyond “you.” In fact, there is no separate “you” at all, there is just Reality in all Its different forms. That's why Moses was humble- he was great, but he wasn’t concerned with his own greatness. He was serving the Greatness that called to him. When your attention is on That, rather than your own image or desire to be validated or seen in a positive light, it’s humbling… and empowering at the same time. Which brings us to a second paradox: In order to keep your attention on the greatness of Reality, rather than on your own self-image in relation to others, you have to keep your awareness rooted in your own body. Your fragile, material, temporary, flawed, physical body is actually the gateway to Eternity, when your attention is rooted there. As the parshah opens: “Beha’alotkha et haneirot, el mul p’nei hamenorah ya’iru shivat haneirot- “When you kindle the lamps, toward the face of the menorah shall the seven lamps cast light.” The light is your awareness, the menorah is your body. Keep the “light” of your awareness rooted in your body, and you become present. Become present, and the vastness of Eternity is open to you- not as some heaven or afterlife to be earned and enjoyed later, but as the living experience of this moment- free and open to all. And yet, this gift is not completely free. To receive it, you have to “chop” the idea that it must be earned, by you or anyone else. Otherwise you will judge yourself and others, and in that judgment, the present moment is lost. Instead, let the truth of this moment be as it is. Let the truth of your own talents and flaws be as it is. Let others be as they are. That’s humility- and greatness- honoring the truth without judgment, being present to Reality. Then, the separate ego-self that demands and judges naturally gets “chopped,” and the vastness of heaven is available. Reb Elimelekh of Lyzhansk, a disciple of the Maggid and brother of Reb Zushia, used to say that he was assured a place in Olam Haba- the World to Come. He explained that when he dies and ascends to the upper realms, they will ask him- “Did you study Torah to the best of your ability?” “No,” he would answer. “Did you pray with full kavanah, with all your heart and all your soul?” “No.” “Have you done all the mitzvot and good deeds that you should have done?” “No.” “Well then come on in! We can see that you honor the truth, and for that you are ready for all the rewards of heaven!” On this Shabbat Beha’alotkha, the Sabbath of Light, may the light of awareness shine in our bodies with great depth and presence, opening the vastness of heaven that's ever available. May we serve the Greatness in whatever way it calls to us, and may that service bring benefit to all. Good Shabbos! Can't You Do Anything Right? Parshat Baha'alotkha 6/4/2015 Reb Elimelekh of Lyzhansk, a disciple of the Maggid and brother of Reb Zushia, used to express his immense gratitude that he was assured a place in Olam Haba- the World to Come. He explained that when he leaves his body and ascends to the upper realms, they will ask him- “Did you study Torah to the best of your ability?” “No,” he would answer. “Did you pray with full kavanah, with all your heart and all your soul?” “No.” “Have you done all the Mitzvot and good deeds that you should have done?” “No.” “Well then come right on in! We can see you are telling the truth, and for that you deserve all the rewards of the World to Come!” The “World to Come” is actually free, and it is not even in the future, but is present now- thank God! The wholeness of your innermost being cannot get anymore whole than it already is! But, it is easy to get blocked from feeling and knowing this truth for yourself, simply by craving validation and defending yourself. Reb Elimelekh was considered to be a tzaddik, a spiritual master, yet he had no need to claim anything. He admits- “I could have done better.” He is not defending himself to the heavenly court, and therefore he is open to receive the spiritual gift that is ever-flowing. Why does defensiveness cut you off from your inherent bliss? Because defensiveness actually creates your “self” as something separate, as something incomplete. That’s the paradox- if you claim to be somehow superior, valid, righteous or whatever, you create a sense of self that is inherently inferior, invalid, incomplete and separate. But if you admit- “I could have done better… and whatever good I’ve done is by the grace of God”- then you relax the tense contraction of self concern, and return to the Wholeness that you already are, but that you can’t claim or own. Then, simply to be is a tremendous gift, not a burden. In fact, it’s the need to defend yourself that’s the burden! Let go of that, and gratitude naturally follows. In this week’s reading, The Torah says of Moses, “v’ha’ish Moshe anav me’od- and the man Moses was very humble…” Moses was humble?? He was the tireless and sometimes ruthless leader of the Children of Israel. How could he have been humble? But humility doesn’t mean meekness or weakness. It means not grasping after greatness for yourself. It means understanding that the greatness you are comes from beyond “you”; in fact there is no separate “you” at all, there is just the Mystery of Being in all Its different forms. That's just what Moses did- he was not concerned with his own greatness. He was serving the Greatness that called to him. What Greatness is calling to you? At this moment, what are you being asked to step up to and serve? When your attention is on That, rather than your own image or desire to be validated or seen in a positive light, it’s humbling… and liberating. Which brings us to a second paradox: In order to keep your attention on Being, rather than on your identity, you have to keep your awareness rooted in your body. That’s right- your own fragile, material, temporary, flawed, physical body is actually the gateway to Eternity, when your attention is rooted there. As the parshah opens: “…beha’alotkha et haneirot, el mul p’nei hamenorah ya’iru shivat haneirot- when you kindle the lamps, toward the face of the menorah shall the seven lamps cast light.” The light is your awareness. The menorah is your body, with its seven centers of consciousness and seven basic “middot”- spiritual qualities that express your inner Divinity, beyond ego. Of these qualities, “humility” and “gratitude” are often coupled together as the fifth middah (if you are counting from the top down, or the third of you count from the bottom up). On this Shabbos Beha’a lotkha, I bless you that you should ignite the fire of your awareness to greater depth and presence in your body, that you more deeply taste the freedom and bliss of your inner Divinity, and that you recommit to serve the Greatness in whatever way you are being called to serve. Be good to one another, Good Shabbos!
כֹּ֥ה תְבָרֲכ֖וּ אֶת־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל אָמ֖וֹר לָהֶֽם׃
יְבָרֶכְךָ֥ יְהוָ֖ה וְיִשְׁמְרֶֽךָ׃ Thus shall you bless the people of Israel – say to them: May the Divine bless you and guard you!
In this verse, the Divine tells the kohanim (priests) to bless the people by praying that the Divine should bless the people. It is strange – why does the Divine need the people for this? If Hashem wants to give blessing, why doesn’t the Hashem just do it without the priests having to say it first? But this is the point: The Divine blessing is always already inherent in simply being; our very existence is blessing. But, because our being-ness is constant, our tendency is to not notice it; we have to consciously receive the blessing of this moment in order to experience it and appreciate it. Just as the priests had to say the blessing to the people, so must we become aware of the Divinity in every person by by bringing our minds and hearts to the blessedness of this moment of the being standing before us. The verse hints at this by combining being “blessed” with being “guarded” –yivarekhekha, v’yishm’rekha. Meaning, if we want to receive the blessing that is constantly given, we have to “guard” our hearts and minds so as not to be swept away by thoughts and feelings that obscure the blessedness. These two realities, blessing and guarding, are represented by the two letters bet and shin: ב – Bet, Brakha, “Blessing” ש – Shin, Shomer, “Guard” בּכָל יום אֲבָרְכֶךָּ וַאֲהַלְלָה שִׁמְךָ לְעולָם וָעֶד Every Day/all day (constantly) I will bless You, and I will praise Your Name unto Eternity! שׁומֵר ה' אֶת כָּל אהֲבָיו וְאֵת כָּל הָרְשָׁעִים יַשְׁמִיד Guarded will be all who love the Divine, but all the wicked will perish…
Together, these two letters make שב shuv, “return.” The ups and downs, the beauty and ugliness, the love and hate, the bitterness and sweetness of our time-bound lives tend to obscure the blessedness that is ever-present, but we always have the power to שב shuv, to return; even a person who is thoroughly wicked and emmeshed in creating suffering and destruction has this power to shuv. This is hinted by the word רשע, “wicked person.” וְאֵת כָּל הָרְשָׁעִים יַשְׁמִיד… …but all the wicked will perish – That is, the wickedness itself perishes when the wicked person changes. But in order to change in a positive way, a person must “see” the reality of their situation: A רשע Rasha, a “wicked person,” is: ר Reish which means, “beginning,” ש Shin, as in shanah, which means “change,” and ע Ayin – which means “eye,” as in “seeing.” In other words, true change begins with seeing. This is why, if we wish to awaken the Divine Blessedness within, we must simply see this moment as it appears to us. Seeing, meaning not visual seeing but rather perceiving the truth of this moment, is the key to transformation. But also, if we wish to bring about positive change in others, we must embody the change ourselves. We cannot force anyone else to change, but if we embody love and not hate, the רשע who sees this in us is offered a doorway to שב shuv, to return to the Divine essence of their own being. This is why it is so important for us to be watchful, to “guard” ourselves constantly, for any moment the blessedness that we reveal in our words and actions could potentially transform the whole world. May the tremendous suffering of these times awaken fundamental transformation in ourselves, in our culture and in our species – amein. בּכָל יום אֲבָרְכֶךָּ וַאֲהַלְלָה שִׁמְךָ לְעולָם וָעֶד Every Day/all day (constantly) I will bless You, and I will praise Your Name unto Eternity!
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Burning Down the House – Parshat Naso, Shavuot
6/11/2019 0 Comments If you look back in time through your family photos, you will eventually find pictures of people not smiling. It’s an interesting thing – why didn’t people smile back then when posing for pictures? And why and when did people start smiling as we do today? It’s funny – a person could be grumpy, then someone comes along to take a photo and they instantly manifest an expression of deep happiness. In a sense, the old paradigm is more honest; if we want to take a snapshot of life, the practice of always smiling probably gives a false impression, that life is constantly fun and joyful, when we know that is not. Today this trend gets extended with social media – Facebook posts in which people look like all is wonderful and everyone is having a great time are very common. Often, I’ve heard people say, “How are you?” and then, before an answer comes, “I know you are great because I see your posts on Facebook!” Happiness is a wonderful thing, but what about honesty? Psalm 15 says: מִֽי־יִ֝שְׁכֹּ֗ן בְּהַ֣ר קָדְשֶֽׁךָ – Who can dwell on Your holy mountain? דֹבֵ֥ר אֱ֝מֶ֗ת בִּלְבָבֽוֹ – One who speaks Truth from their heart… Truth is a basic middah, a basic spiritual quality, necessary for transcending the mundane and realizing the sacred, for “dwelling” on the “holy mountain.” And yet, in Pirkei Avot, Shamai says: וֶהֱוֵי מְקַבֵּל אֶת כָּל הָאָדָם בְּסֵבֶר פָּנִים יָפוֹת – Receive every person with a cheerful face. And later in the text, Rabbi Yishmael takes it even further: וֶהֱוֵי מְקַבֵּל אֶת כָּל הָאָדָם בְּשִׂמְחָה – Receive every person with joy! So, which is it? Is it best to be honest about our feelings, or should we “put on a happy face?” A disciple once asked the Hassidic master, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev, which is the true path – the path of sorrow or the path of joy? He answered that there are two kinds of sorrow, and two kinds of joy. The wrong kind of sorrow is when you become negative, think of yourself as a victim and complain about your life. The right kind of sorrow is when you simply feel your suffering and the suffering of others in an honest way, without embellishment, without getting caught by the negativity. The wrong kind of joy is when you only become happy about things you like, when things are going your way, when you get what you want. The right kind of joy, on the other hand, is like when a person’s house burns down, and as they rebuild what was destroyed, they rejoice over each and every brick. It’s a remarkable image – the right kind of joy is like when your house burns down. The genius of this teaching is that the right kind of joy and the right kind of sorrow are really the same thing; they are merged in the truth of our experience, that everything we love and enjoy will eventually burn down. If our happiness is based on gratification alone, then we are slaves to our experience. But there is a deeper joy that arises from the depths of who we are, beneath our temporary experience, beneath the “house” of our thoughts and feelings. That is the simple joy of being, the joy of existence, which becomes available when we let the “house” of ego “burn down” and fully open to the truth of our experience without resistance – even, paradoxically, the experience of pain and suffering. And in that openness, we begin this moment anew, rejoicing over every “brick” – over every action offered in service of building a home for the Divine during this brief life we are given. This deep openness of consciousness to whatever arises is very simple, but it’s not easy, because the complexities of life can easily distract. That’s why we have spiritual teachings and practices – to develop our ability to remain awake and free in the midst of life. דַּבֵּר֙ אֶל־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל וְאָמַרְתָּ֖ אֲלֵהֶ֑ם אִ֣ישׁ אֽוֹ־אִשָּׁ֗ה כִּ֤י יַפְלִא֙ לִנְדֹּר֙ נֶ֣דֶר נָזִ֔יר לְהַזִּ֖יר לַֽיהוָֽה׃ …מִיַּ֤יִן וְשֵׁכָר֙ יַזִּ֔יר Speak to the Israelites and say to them: If anyone, man or woman, explicitly swears the vow of the Nazir, to abstain for the sake of the Divine, he shall abstain from wine and intoxicants… The Nazir mentioned in the parshah is someone who has become disconnected from the Divine and wishes to come back. How do they do it? They take a period of abstinence from alcohol and haircuts! Why? Alcohol is a way of altering our inner state, while grooming our hair is a way of altering our outer state. In other words, they are examples of manipulating our experience toward our liking. By abstaining from both, one can get in touch with that deeper level of awareness that simply receives the moment as it is, that “lets the house burn down,” so to speak. This level of awareness experientially knows the Oneness of the Divine as the basic condition of Reality, prior to the impulse to do something about it. Through this practice, the Nazir could find their way back to the Divine, back to their deepest nature, and then return to ordinary life from this higher place. Last week was the festival of Shavuot, during which the biblical Book of Ruth is traditionally read. This book begins with Naomi’s house “burning down” as great tragedy befalls her: first, her husband dies, and then both of her sons die. She tells her daughters-in-law to go back to their families, but her daughter-in-law Ruth swears allegiance to Naomi, and they return to Naomi’s hometown of Bethlehem, penniless. Someone says, “Could this be Naomi?” but Naomi tells her that is no longer her name: וַתֹּ֣אמֶר אֲלֵיהֶ֔ן אַל־תִּקְרֶ֥אנָה לִ֖י נָעֳמִ֑י קְרֶ֤אןָ לִי֙ מָרָ֔א כִּי־הֵמַ֥ר שַׁדַּ֛י לִ֖י מְאֹֽד׃ “Do not call me Naomi (pleasantness),” she replied. “Call me Mara (bitterness), for Shaddai has made my lot very bitter.” After that, their luck begins to change. Ruth serendipitously meets the wealthy Boaz, a relative of Naomi, ends up marrying him, and they have a son who ends up being an ancestor of King David, who is believed to be the ancestor of the future Moshiakh, the salvation of all humanity. The hint is: their salvation begins to sprout when Naomi expresses her bitterness: “Call me Mara (bitterness), for Shaddai has made my lot very bitter.” She is not complaining about her lot, she is receiving it from the hands of the Divine. She is speaking Truth from the heart – her experience isn’t pleasant, it is bitter – but from that honesty, her fortune begins to change and will lead ultimately to world salvation. In other words, it is from the openness to the bitter that a deeper, transcendent joy can arise. And so, for us – may we open to the truth of our experience with simplicity and without resistance, receiving everything from the hands of the Divine, and may we merit to feel the deeper joy that arises from that openness. May we share that joy with everyone we encounter: וֶהֱוֵי מְקַבֵּל אֶת כָּל הָאָדָם בְּשִׂמְחָה – Receive every person with joy – and may true peace and salvation sprout for this world, speedily in our day! Why Did I Wake Up Lonely? Parshat Nasso 5/28/2015 1 Comment Last night, around 1 AM, our two-year old daughter wandered into our bedroom and cried, “Why did I wake up lonely?” Sometimes Torah comes in the form of adorableness! I think she meant to ask why she woke up alone, not lonely. But, I realized, this can be a concern for many people on the Path- “if I wake up spiritually, will I be lonely?” Put another way- “If I awaken to a new level of consciousness, will I still be able to relate to people? Will I feel all alone if I let go of all the games and dramas that I am used to playing out with people?” It’s true, there is an aspect of waking up that requires aloneness, but not necessarily loneliness. On the inner level, there has to be a willingness to let go of your addiction to thinking. As long as the mind is constantly generating a stream of thought, the world will appear as a projection of your thought. Let go of your stream of thinking, and you open to the Divine Presence appearing in all its glory and unity. This happens when your consciousness fully stands alone, not seduced by the compulsive narratives of the mind. This week’s reading, Parshat Nasso, is the finale for describing the construction of the Mishkan- the sanctuary of the Divine Presence. In preparation for the Mishkan becoming activated, the Israelites are told to expel anyone who is a tzaru’a, a zav, or who is tamei lanafesh. All three of these terms have to do with bodily things that many people would consider to be…well… kind of gross! Metaphorically, they are related to ways that our thoughts, speech and actions can keep us unconscious and in “exile” from the Presence. “Tzaru’a” means someone with a particular skin affliction, and is associated with the sin of lashon hara- gossip and slander. Since the skin is the boundary of a person but also the place of intimate connection with others, this mythic disease is an expression of relationships getting tarnished through destructive speech. “Zav” means some kind of bodily emission and is associated with sexuality. Metaphorically, the outward emission represents the way thoughts of sexuality can be a kind of “reaching” or “grasping” for gratification, a loss of vital energy and presence. These two represent the polarity of unconsciousness- “Tzaru’a” is negativity and destructiveness (like anger), and “zav” is wanting, grasping, neediness. Both of these lead to an absence of sacred presence in the body, which brings us to the third one: “Tamei Lanefesh” means spiritually contaminated by a corpse. To the degree that you become seduced by the energies of “I hate” and “I want”, your body is temporarily dead to the Sacred Presence that is actually not separate from your own living, conscious, being. In order for your body to become a sanctuary again, these forces and the thoughts they produce must be “expelled from the camp” in a sense. You must stand alone from them. And yet, standing alone in this way removes the energies that contaminate your relationships. Free from negativity and neediness, you potentially increase your connection with others. Standing alone does not mean being alone or isolated. So, in this game of waking up, you don’t have to fear being lonely at all. It’s just the opposite. This Shabbos may we increase our connection to others by consciously letting go of any inner narratives of judgment, negativity, complaining, wanting and needing, and instead open fully to people as they are, in their beautiful uniqueness.
וְשַׁבֵּ֧חַ אֲנִ֛י אֶת־הַמֵּתִ֖ים שֶׁכְּבָ֣ר מֵ֑תוּ מִן־הַ֣חַיִּ֔ים אֲשֶׁ֛ר הֵ֥מָּה חַיִּ֖ים עֲדֶֽנָה׃ וְטוֹב֙ מִשְּׁנֵיהֶ֔ם אֵ֥ת אֲשֶׁר־עֲדֶ֖ן לֹ֣א הָיָ֑ה אֲשֶׁ֤ר לֹֽא־רָאָה֙ אֶת־הַמַּעֲשֶׂ֣ה הָרָ֔ע אֲשֶׁ֥ר נַעֲשָׂ֖ה תַּ֥חַת הַשָּֽׁמֶשׁ׃
I praised those who have already died as better than those who are still alive; and better than either of them are those who have not yet lived and have never seen the evil doings that are done under the sun…
…וְעַל כָּרְחֲךָ אַתָּה נוֹלָד, וְעַל כָּרְחֲךָ אַתָּה חַי, וְעַל כָּרְחֲךָ אַתָּה מֵת... For against your will you were born, and against your will you will die…
These brutal verses from Tanakh and Mishna highlight a subtle distinction between different levels of desire. On one hand, the suffering of life is such that we shouldn’t want to live; our natural hatred of the life’s bitterness gives rise to the desire for death, the impulse to reject our own existence. And yet, these verses are heard against the backdrop of a more fundamental impulse – the drive to be and to become that, (God willing) trumps all adversity. We may cry out again and again that we can’t go on, and yet, (God willing) we can and do go on. This points to a level of desire that is deeper than our experience of adversity, deeper than the ups and downs that happen in time. בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה' אֱלהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעולָם. עוטֵר יִשרָאֵל בְּתִפְאָרָה Blessed are You, Oneness of Being, our inner Divinity, Eternal Sovereign, Who crowns Israel with splendor… There is a splendor, a radiance, a transcendent spirit that infuses our lives, that in fact is our very life force. עוטֵר יִשרָאֵל בְּתִפְאָרָה – Oter Yisrael b’Tifarah – crowns Israel with splendor… “Splendor” is called Tiferet, the central sefirah (Divine emanation) on the Tree of Life. It is the radiant Presence of awareness itself, our innermost life-energy. But this Presence derives from Keter, the “crown,” because it transcends our own natural will; it comes to us as from “above,” because it is stronger than all adversity. It is stronger because, on the deepest level, it knows there is nothing to lose; it incarnates within and as every being and eventually returns to Itself. Why? Why is coming into existence worth the immense suffering of life? : כָּל מַה שֶּׁבָּרָא הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא בְּעוֹלָמוֹ, לֹא בְרָאוֹ אֶלָּא לִכְבוֹדוֹ, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר כֹּל הַנִּקְרָא בִשְׁמִי וְלִכְבוֹדִי בְּרָאתִיו יְצַרְתִּיו אַף עֲשִׂיתִיו All that the Holy Blessed One creates in Its world, It creates only for Its Presence, as it says: “All who are called in My Name, for My Presence I created, I formed, I made…”
Presence Itself, Existence Itself, is Its own good, Its reason for being: אֶלָּא לִכְבוֹדוֹ – elah likh’vodi – only for Its Presence… Reality “wishes” to know Itself; Existence “desires” to know that It Exists. This can only happen through us, through our conscious receiving of this sacred mission: to make ourselves into sanctuaries for the Divine Presence. To receive this mission is to receive Torah. The receiving of Torah must be done consciously again and again so that the primary impulse of Being becomes our own conscious intention; we must recognize that, on the deepest level, to simply exist actually means that we are “chosen” for this sacred task. This is the deepest message of Sinai: that when we transcend the Mitzrayim of the various human drives and forces that propel human life, when we “ascend the mountain” of the Eternal Present, we come face to face with the Divine impulse that needs us for Its fulfillment: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם אֲשֶׁר בָּֽחַר בָּֽנוּ מִכָּל הָעַמִּים וְנָֽתַן לָֽנוּ אֶת תּוֹרָתוֹ: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה נוֹתֵן הַתּוֹרָה Blessed are You, Oneness of Being, our inner Divinity, Eternal Sovereign, Who chooses us among the peoples and gives to us the Teaching. Blessed are You, Oneness of Being, Giver of Torah… Hag Samayakh, Good Yom Tov!
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Burning Down the House – Parshat Naso, Shavuot
6/11/2019 0 Comments If you look back in time through your family photos, you will eventually find pictures of people not smiling. It’s an interesting thing – why didn’t people smile back then when posing for pictures? And why and when did people start smiling as we do today? It’s funny – a person could be grumpy, then someone comes along to take a photo and they instantly manifest an expression of deep happiness. In a sense, the old paradigm is more honest; if we want to take a snapshot of life, the practice of always smiling probably gives a false impression, that life is constantly fun and joyful, when we know that is not. Today this trend gets extended with social media – Facebook posts in which people look like all is wonderful and everyone is having a great time are very common. Often, I’ve heard people say, “How are you?” and then, before an answer comes, “I know you are great because I see your posts on Facebook!” Happiness is a wonderful thing, but what about honesty? Psalm 15 says: מִֽי־יִ֝שְׁכֹּ֗ן בְּהַ֣ר קָדְשֶֽׁךָ – Who can dwell on Your holy mountain? דֹבֵ֥ר אֱ֝מֶ֗ת בִּלְבָבֽוֹ – One who speaks Truth from their heart… Truth is a basic middah, a basic spiritual quality, necessary for transcending the mundane and realizing the sacred, for “dwelling” on the “holy mountain.” And yet, in Pirkei Avot, Shamai says: וֶהֱוֵי מְקַבֵּל אֶת כָּל הָאָדָם בְּסֵבֶר פָּנִים יָפוֹת – Receive every person with a cheerful face. And later in the text, Rabbi Yishmael takes it even further: וֶהֱוֵי מְקַבֵּל אֶת כָּל הָאָדָם בְּשִׂמְחָה – Receive every person with joy! So, which is it? Is it best to be honest about our feelings, or should we “put on a happy face?” A disciple once asked the Hassidic master, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev, which is the true path – the path of sorrow or the path of joy? He answered that there are two kinds of sorrow, and two kinds of joy. The wrong kind of sorrow is when you become negative, think of yourself as a victim and complain about your life. The right kind of sorrow is when you simply feel your suffering and the suffering of others in an honest way, without embellishment, without getting caught by the negativity. The wrong kind of joy is when you only become happy about things you like, when things are going your way, when you get what you want. The right kind of joy, on the other hand, is like when a person’s house burns down, and as they rebuild what was destroyed, they rejoice over each and every brick. It’s a remarkable image – the right kind of joy is like when your house burns down. The genius of this teaching is that the right kind of joy and the right kind of sorrow are really the same thing; they are merged in the truth of our experience, that everything we love and enjoy will eventually burn down. If our happiness is based on gratification alone, then we are slaves to our experience. But there is a deeper joy that arises from the depths of who we are, beneath our temporary experience, beneath the “house” of our thoughts and feelings. That is the simple joy of being, the joy of existence, which becomes available when we let the “house” of ego “burn down” and fully open to the truth of our experience without resistance – even, paradoxically, the experience of pain and suffering. And in that openness, we begin this moment anew, rejoicing over every “brick” – over every action offered in service of building a home for the Divine during this brief life we are given. This deep openness of consciousness to whatever arises is very simple, but it’s not easy, because the complexities of life can easily distract. That’s why we have spiritual teachings and practices – to develop our ability to remain awake and free in the midst of life. דַּבֵּר֙ אֶל־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל וְאָמַרְתָּ֖ אֲלֵהֶ֑ם אִ֣ישׁ אֽוֹ־אִשָּׁ֗ה כִּ֤י יַפְלִא֙ לִנְדֹּר֙ נֶ֣דֶר נָזִ֔יר לְהַזִּ֖יר לַֽיהוָֽה׃ …מִיַּ֤יִן וְשֵׁכָר֙ יַזִּ֔יר Speak to the Israelites and say to them: If anyone, man or woman, explicitly swears the vow of the Nazir, to abstain for the sake of the Divine, he shall abstain from wine and intoxicants… The Nazir mentioned in the parshah is someone who has become disconnected from the Divine and wishes to come back. How do they do it? They take a period of abstinence from alcohol and haircuts! Why? Alcohol is a way of altering our inner state, while grooming our hair is a way of altering our outer state. In other words, they are examples of manipulating our experience toward our liking. By abstaining from both, one can get in touch with that deeper level of awareness that simply receives the moment as it is, that “lets the house burn down,” so to speak. This level of awareness experientially knows the Oneness of the Divine as the basic condition of Reality, prior to the impulse to do something about it. Through this practice, the Nazir could find their way back to the Divine, back to their deepest nature, and then return to ordinary life from this higher place. Last week was the festival of Shavuot, during which the biblical Book of Ruth is traditionally read. This book begins with Naomi’s house “burning down” as great tragedy befalls her: first, her husband dies, and then both of her sons die. She tells her daughters-in-law to go back to their families, but her daughter-in-law Ruth swears allegiance to Naomi, and they return to Naomi’s hometown of Bethlehem, penniless. Someone says, “Could this be Naomi?” but Naomi tells her that is no longer her name: וַתֹּ֣אמֶר אֲלֵיהֶ֔ן אַל־תִּקְרֶ֥אנָה לִ֖י נָעֳמִ֑י קְרֶ֤אןָ לִי֙ מָרָ֔א כִּי־הֵמַ֥ר שַׁדַּ֛י לִ֖י מְאֹֽד׃ “Do not call me Naomi (pleasantness),” she replied. “Call me Mara (bitterness), for Shaddai has made my lot very bitter.” After that, their luck begins to change. Ruth serendipitously meets the wealthy Boaz, a relative of Naomi, ends up marrying him, and they have a son who ends up being an ancestor of King David, who is believed to be the ancestor of the future Moshiakh, the salvation of all humanity. The hint is: their salvation begins to sprout when Naomi expresses her bitterness: “Call me Mara (bitterness), for Shaddai has made my lot very bitter.” She is not complaining about her lot, she is receiving it from the hands of the Divine. She is speaking Truth from the heart – her experience isn’t pleasant, it is bitter – but from that honesty, her fortune begins to change and will lead ultimately to world salvation. In other words, it is from the openness to the bitter that a deeper, transcendent joy can arise. And so, for us – may we open to the truth of our experience with simplicity and without resistance, receiving everything from the hands of the Divine, and may we merit to feel the deeper joy that arises from that openness. May we share that joy with everyone we encounter: וֶהֱוֵי מְקַבֵּל אֶת כָּל הָאָדָם בְּשִׂמְחָה – Receive every person with joy – and may true peace and salvation sprout for this world, speedily in our day!
The message of Presence is: Don’t think so much. Think less, perceive more.
And yet, in more common circles of wisdom, we hear the message that we should think more, that mistakes can be avoided if we thoroughly think things through. So, which is it? שְׂא֗וּ אֶת־רֹאשׁ֙ כָּל־עֲדַ֣ת בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל לְמִשְׁפְּחֹתָ֖ם לְבֵ֣ית אֲבֹתָ֑ם בְּמִסְפַּ֣ר שֵׁמ֔וֹת כָּל־זָכָ֖ר לְגֻלְגְּלֹתָֽם׃ Take a census of the whole Israelite community by the families of their ancestral houses, listing the names, every male, head by head. (Bamidbar/Numbers 1:2) On the surface, the parshah is talking about taking a census of the Israelite males who can be made ready for battle. But on a deeper metaphorical level, there is wisdom here for harmonizing the contradicting advice to think more and to think less: שְׂא֗וּ אֶת־רֹאשׁ֙ – S’u et rosh – lift the head… This phrase is an idiom for taking a census. But the deeper implication is that before going out to “do battle” with the challenges of life, we must “lift our head” – that is, elevate our perspective to see our situation as clearly as we can, which means transcending and getting free from whatever thoughts and feelings in which we might be entangled. This is thinking less. It is the practice of Presence and meditation. From this elevated place, we can than begin to act consciously and intentionally. How? כָּל־עֲדַ֣ת בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל – kol adat b’nei Yisrael – all the assembly of the Children of Israel… Yisrael means sarita El, “striving for the Divine.” It is the meaning of our collective identity, to “assemble” (adat) things so as to bring forth “Godliness” or “holiness.” So, the first thing we should do if we want to get clarity on the right path to take is to ask ourselves, “What is my purpose in doing such-and-such? What am I trying to accomplish?” We can sometimes act automatically, without really considering what we are trying to do. This question cuts through that unconsciousness and brings us face to face with our power of decision. It doesn’t guarantee that we will succeed, but if we don’t ask this question, we are almost certain to fail. Once we get clear on our kavanah, our intention, we might simply drop whatever we were considering doing if the intention isn’t good. But, if the intention is good, then we can move onto the next question. לְמִשְׁפְּחֹתָ֖ם – l’mishp’khotam – by their families… “Family” consists of those close to us, those we for whom we are responsible, and those who are responsible for us. This hints at the next question: “How will this action affect people?” “People” doesn’t necessarily mean other people; we also need to consider how things will affect ourselves. For example, we might consider looking at the news or social media. We might determine that our intention is good, that we are trying to be informed and connected to the world. But then we ask, “How will this affect people?” To some extent, there may be no ill affect. But beyond that point, if news and social media create negativity and anxiety in ourselves, and we then project that negativity towards others, we need to be aware of that aspect in our decision process, which brings us to the final question: בְּמִסְפַּ֣ר שֵׁמ֔וֹת כָּל־זָכָ֖ר לְגֻלְגְּלֹתָֽם – b’mispar shemot, kol; zakhar l’gulg’lotam – by the number of names, every male, head by head… Once we “name” both what the purpose is and what the effect will be, we have to “number” it – we have to ask, “Is it worth it?” In other words, if our intention is good but the consequences are dire, we need to ask which “counts” more; we need to evaluate and decide. Again, this is no guarantee that we will make the right choice, but if we don’t evaluate and decide, it is likely we will make the wrong choice. And if, after careful thinking the situation through, we do end up making the wrong choice, this too has goodness to it, because we will learn from it. This two-part process of “lifting the head,” that is, the stripping away of thought in meditation, followed by the “numbering of names,” that is, careful evaluation of purpose and consequence, is represented in Kabbalah by the dual sefirot on the Tree of Life of Hokhmah (wisdom, awareness) and Binah (understanding, focused thought). Seen in this way, there is no contradiction in the advice to “think more” and “think less”; they are two parts of one process. Here are the three questions again for use in deciding on a course of action:
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The Lazy Man – Parshat Bamidbar
6/5/2019 1 Comment Yankel was too lazy to do physical exercise. But as he got older, he realized that he had better take care of his body, or he would soon be in trouble. So, he hired a personal trainer to teach him and motivate him to work out. The personal trainer began by coming to his house every day. First, she taught him the exercises that would be best for him. But when it came to actually doing them, Yankel was so lazy, that the trainer would have to yell cheers and encouragements: “Come on Yankel you can do it!” she would shout. “That’s seven, just three more! Go! Go!” Over time, Yankel’s resistance dropped away more and more, and it became easier and easier for the trainer to motivate him. After several weeks, the trainer didn’t have to do anything except come over to check and make sure Yankel was exercising. Yankel even shouted out his own motivational cheers: “I can do it! One! Two! Just seven more to go! Getting stronger! Three!” Eventually, the trainer didn’t even come inside, but just listened at the door. She would hear Yankel yelling to himself: “Getting stronger and stronger! I can do it! Five! Six! Four more to go!” When she would hear him yelling through the door, she would leave, satisfied that he was doing it on his own. But, when they finally had a meeting after several months to evaluate and adjust his exercise routine, she noticed that he didn’t look like he was exercising at all; he was almost as unfit as he had been before they began. “How strange! I hear you working out every day, but it seems like you haven’t been doing anything!” “Oh, I haven’t been working out,” said Yankel. “But I come by every day and hear you yelling and counting reps!” said the trainer. “Yes – I figured if you heard me counting, you would think I was working out and leave me alone.” When it comes to prayer, many folks are just like Yankel – perhaps going through the motions, saying the words, but nothing is really happening. It’s not that the words are irrelevant – the cheers and counting of reps can be a good accompaniment and even encouragement to exercise; but it’s no substitute for exercise. Similarly, sacred words and rituals can be a wonderful accompaniment and even expression of prayer, but they’re not the prayer itself. As long as the words are helping you do the real inner activity of prayer, they are doing their job. But if they become a substitute for prayer, then we are missing the point. It is understandable that the form of prayer – how many times per day, what texts to say on which day, and so on, could easily eclipse the real, inner reality of prayer, because form is quantifiable. We can easily talk about and define how to fulfill prayer in form. But the inner reality of prayer is connection with the Timeless, with the Un-Countable; it’s more difficult to talk about and evaluate. There is a nice hint about these two sides of reality – form and The Formless, finite and Eternal, in the opening lines of the parshah and the haftorah. The parshah begins: שְׂא֗וּ אֶת־רֹאשׁ֙ כָּל־עֲדַ֣ת בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל לְמִשְׁפְּחֹתָ֖ם לְבֵ֣ית אֲבֹתָ֑ם בְּמִסְפַּ֣ר שֵׁמ֔וֹת כָּל־זָכָ֖ר לְגֻלְגְּלֹתָֽם׃ Lift the head (take a head count) of the whole community of the children of Israel, by the families of the houses of their fathers, counting the names of every male, head by head. This is about quantifying the people, giving them a number, so as to know how many soldiers they have. On the other hand, the haftora from Hosea, chapter 2, begins: וְֽ֠הָיָה מִסְפַּ֤ר בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵל֙ כְּח֣וֹל הַיָּ֔ם אֲשֶׁ֥ר לֹֽא־יִמַּ֖ד וְלֹ֣א יִסָּפֵ֑ר וְֽ֠הָיָה בִּמְק֞וֹם אֲשֶׁר־יֵאָמֵ֤ר לָהֶם֙ לֹֽא־עַמִּ֣י אַתֶּ֔ם יֵאָמֵ֥ר לָהֶ֖ם בְּנֵ֥י אֵֽל־חָֽי׃ The number of the children of Israel shall be like the sands of the sea, which cannot be measured or counted; and instead of being told, “You are Not-My-People,” they shall be called “Children of the Living God.” The text then leaves this uplifting vision and talks about how the Children of Israel have strayed and run after idols, the “ba’alim.” Israel is compared to a harlot, an unfaithful wife, running after other lovers. Why does she do this? “I will go after my lovers, for they will give me my bread and water, my wool and linin, my oil and my drink.” In other words, the Children of Israel aren’t satisfied; they want more. Rather than appreciate what is present, they run after that which is not present; they imagine they can achieve more gratification. Pursue her lovers as she will, she shall not overtake them; and seek them as she may, she shall never find them. Then she will say, “I will go and return to my First Husband, for then I fared better than now...” Eventually, Israel realizes that her obsession with more, (called “idolatry”) only causes her suffering, and so she comes home to appreciate the gifts she already had (called teshuvah, returning to the Divine). The hint here is that, on a deep and practical level, “idolatry” really means fixating on that which is not present; it means elevating the images in our minds above the actual Reality right in front of us. The “idol” is that which is not present; the Divine is Presence. Of course, there is nothing wrong with imagining what we need or want in the future; that’s the job of the mind. We have to count and quantify; we have to make maps of the world in order to navigate it. The point is not to elevate the map over the territory; the point is not to live in your mind, but to live in the Living Present. The maps of the mind are useful, but they are not alive; they are not the Real Thing. This understanding of idols as dead concepts about reality substituting for Actual Living Reality is expressed in Psalm 15: פֶּֽה־לָ֭הֶם וְלֹ֣א יְדַבֵּ֑רוּ They have mouths, but cannot speak… The true Divine, however, is That which speaks, as the parshah opens: וַיְדַבֵּ֨ר יְהוָ֧ה אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֛ה בְּמִדְבַּ֥ר סִינַ֖י בְּאֹ֣הֶל מוֹעֵ֑ד The Divine spoke to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai, in the Tent of Meeting… The Hassidic rebbe, Rabbi Yisrael of Rizhyn, told that when he was learning with the great Maggid, Rabbi Dov Bear of Mezrich, all the disciples learned and memorized the master’s teachings except one: Reb Zushia. This is because when the Maggid would begin to expound a verse of Torah, so many of the verses began like this: Vay’daber Hashem – and the Divine spoke… Whenever Reb Zushia would hear these words, he would go into a fit of seizures: “Hashem spoke!!! Hashem spoke!!!” he would scream, and they would have to take him out into the shed until the teaching was over. “But,” rabbi Yisrael would add, “that’s okay, because even one word spoken in truth and received in truth is enough…” Right now, and always, the Divine is speaking. The words aren’t necessarily conveying a conceptual message: Even one word spoken in truth and received in truth is enough. Meaning, when we deeply connect with the truth of this moment, then Reality Itself can be received as “Divine Speech.” When we receive the Present in this way, it is deeply liberating, shaking us from the dead maps of the mind and into the Living Present. For some, realizing this may send you into convulsions like Reb Zushia, but not necessarily so. A disciple asked Reb Pinkhas of Koretz, “Why is it that you are so calm and still when you daven (pray), unlike so many other tzadikim who thrash about in ecstatic convulsions?” Reb Pinkhas replied, “You know, the essence of prayer is deveikut, attachment to the Divine, and this involves the death of the separate self. There are two kinds of death: one kind is as difficult as pulling a rope through a mast, and the other is easy as removing an eyelash from a glass of milk. It is the second kind that I was granted…” For some, ecstatic movement is the path; for some, stillness. The point is not the particular path, but rather that we use the mind properly, that we use the mind as a tool to navigate the world in time, but not let it get in the way of connecting with the Eternal. As the beginning of the parshah says: S’u et rosh – normally translated “take a census,” but literally: “lift up the head!” In other words, elevate your mind by understanding its limitation; use the mind to go beyond the mind. As we come to the end of the annual ritual of counting the 49 days of the Omer, may we use the quantifying mind wisely to express our praise, gratitude and ultimate unity with the Eternal within the world of time… Good Shabbos! Parshat Bamidbar 5/17/2018 1 Comment Once, Rabbi Shmelke and his brother came to their teacher, the Maggid of Metzritch, with a problem: "Our sages say that we should give praise and thanks to Hashem for all the misfortunes that befall us, as well as for the blessings. How can we understand this?" "Go ask Reb Zushia," replied the Maggid, "he sits in the Beit Midrash, smoking his pipe." They went and found Reb Zushia and put the question to him. Reb Zushia just laughed. "Ha! Surely you've come to the wrong man, for I have never experienced misfortune!" "How can you say that?" replied Reb Shmelke, "for you have been impoverished for most of your life!" "Let me tell you a story," said Reb Zushia. "Once there was a king who wished to test his subjects, so he arranged a massive festival in an outdoor park. He had hundreds of precious objects from the palace brought out on display, and sent this message throughout the kingdom: "Let everyone come and pick one object from among my treasures to take for themselves." People came from all over and wandered through the park, picking and choosing the treasures they wanted. Among them was an old beggar woman who made her way to the king and asked, "Your Highness, is it true I can choose anything in this park to take for my own?" "Yes!" replied the king, "anything you want." "Then," replied the old woman, "I choose you!" "Ha, you have chosen wisely!" said the king. "You get me, and my whole kingdom!" The amazing news is, you're in that park right now. Ordinarily, we tend to focus on the different treasures – the fruits of our efforts that we desire. But just one small shift, and you have the whole kingdom, instantly. What is that shift? Dedicate your actions to the Divine. Dedicate your words to the Divine. Dedicate your thoughts to the Divine. Don't worry about the fruits; just do your best in service and love, and let the Divine give you what It gives you. Shift your motivation from the separate things and goals, to the One Thing, the One Goal. The One is always instantly available, but you have to shift into that frame; you have to elevate the way you think. This week's reading begins with the instruction to take a census of the Israelites: ...שְׂא֗וּ אֶת־רֹאשׁ֙ כָּל־עֲדַ֣ת בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל S'u et rosh kol ada'at b'nei Yisrael – Lift the heads of the children of Israel... "Lift the heads" is an idiom that means to take a "head count" – that's the census. Yisrael means, SARita im ELohim – Strive for the Divine (Gen. 32.29). So, if you want to reach the Divine, you must "lift your head". You must elevate the way that you think. All your goals, responsibilities, tasks, your whole life situation – know that it's all a path to the Divine, if you but keep the Divine in mind, and dedicate everything to the Divine. Pirkei Avot, 1:3, says: אַל תִּהְיוּ כַעֲבָדִים הַמְשַׁמְּשִׁין אֶת הָרַב עַל מְנָת לְקַבֵּל פְּרָס, אֶלָּא הֱווּ כַעֲבָדִים הַמְשַׁמְּשִׁין אֶת הָרַב שֶׁלֹּא עַל מְנָת לְקַבֵּל פְּרָס Don't be like the servant who serves the master to receive a reward, be like the servant who serves the master not to receive a reward... In other words, shift your motivation to serve the One, and let go of separate, particular goals. This doesn't necessarily mean changing anything you're doing; it means changing your motivation, changing your frame. וִיהִי מוֹרָא שָׁמַיִם עֲלֵיכֶם and let the awe of heaven be upon you. "Heaven" means the space of your own awareness, within which your experience arises. Your awareness is the gateway to Heaven – it is always whole, complete, at peace. So when you declutter yourself from all separate aims, and instead aim at the One Thing that is ever-available, you can know yourself as the space of this moment, and Heaven can come together with Earth... This Saturday night is Shavuot, the Festival of Revelation. May we all receive a new insight for bringing Heaven down to Earth, a new revelation on our paths... The Garbage Truck- Parshat Bamidbar 6/9/2016 2 Comments One morning, as I lay in bed around 6:30 am, I heard a rumbling sound from deep within whatever dream I was having. “That sound… it means something… something important… what is that sound?” The garbage truck! I had forgotten to put the garbage out the night before, and the can was pretty full. I leapt out of bed, slid into some pants, darted downstairs and out the front door. I looked and saw- the garbage truck had already passed my house and was halfway down the street! I grabbed the can and ran after him, rolling it behind me. When I caught up, I started to politely ask him if he would take it, but before even one word came from my lips he grabbed it from me violently, almost knocking me over and barked something like “GIMMEE IT!” …I think. Wow- he had certainly drunk his coffee already. Maybe a little too much. But I was grateful that he took it at all! So, what would make you get up in the morning so fast? The codes of Jewish law are somewhat paradoxical about getting up in the morning. On one hand, they say that you should leap out of bed to “do the Will of the Creator”- no laziness! Not a moment should be wasted- there is much to do! Get up with the “strength of a lion” and jump into the day. On the other hand, before you get up, you should take a moment to receive the gift of your life, chanting- “Modeh ani lifanekha- I give thanks before you…” Then should you leap into your day? No, you should ritually wash your hands, with the kavanah (intention) to purify your heart so that you can serve with love in all your actions. Okay now should get on with it, right? No. First there are many blessings to be chanted, many prayers to pray. And even before all of that, they say you should take some moments in silence to tap your inner depths in preparation. So which is it? Should you leap out of bed and get to work, or take your time to connect with your inner depths? But that’s the point- it's both. If you spend all your time in meditation, the bliss of Being reveals Itself within your own awareness, but the world remains untouched. On the other hand, if your life is focused solely on the external, then you become lost in its dramas, disconnected from you inner Source, and the world suffers for it. But connect with the Eternal in order to bring it into the temporal- that’s the alchemy! This week’s reading hints at this spiritual rhythm. It begins with Hashem instructing Moses to take a census of all the soldiers who are ready for battle- “Vay’daber Hashem el Moshe b’midbar Sinai- “Hashem spoke to Moses in the Sinai wilderness… “Se’u et rosh kol adat- “Take a census of the entire assembly…” Counting the soldiers is a metaphor for our external lives. Each day we should arouse ourselves like soldiers to do battle with our inner inertia and make every moment “count”. But then a few verses later, it gives the other half of the equation: “Akh et hamateh Levi lo tifkod- “But the tribe of Levi your shall not count…” The Levites weren’t soldiers, they were priests and musicians- caretakers of the Mishkan- the Sacred Space at the center of the camp. The soldiers went out to conquer the many, but the Levites connected to the One. And in the One, there’s nothing to count! There is only One! The trick is for these two sides- the internal and the external- the many and the One- to be in balance. Ideally, you express your inward sacredness through the external wilderness of life. But this takes practice- it’s no small thing staying connected to the holiness of this moment while running after the garbage truck! But fortunately, no matter how lost in the external we become, the present moment has not gone anywhere. It’s always here, open to our return, to our t’shuvah. There’s a story of the Chofetz Chayim, that he once had a student who was sunk in crushingly oppressive poverty. The student would often implore his master to pray on his behalf, and promised that if his prayers were answered and he were to become wealthy, he would give abundant tzeddaka- abundant charity to those in need. The Chofetz Chayim would just listen compassionately and nod. Years later, after the student had moved away to the city, he had indeed become exceedingly wealthy. The Chofetz Chayim went to visit him and asked- “So, how are things?” “Very well thank God,” said the former student, “I’ve been blessed with many riches.” “And how has your tzeddaka been going?” The rich former student turned red, embarrassed that he had forgotten his promise. In fact, as his riches grew more and more, his stinginess had grown as well. “You know,” said the Chofetz Chayim, “The more successful you are in your external battles, the stronger your yetzer hara- your lust for the external- also becomes.” In that moment, his delusion was broken, and he returned fully to the inner path that his heart had abandoned. He dedicated his wealth to service and became a fountain of relief for many who suffered in poverty. On this Shabbat Bamidbar, the Sabbath of the Wilderness, may we reconnect with this holy intention: to neither become lost in the drama and grasping of the external wilderness, nor abandon this world that is so in need of healing. Rather, let us connect frequently and deeply with the truth of this moment, bringing its love and wisdom into the story of our lives as it unfolds in time- for this brief time we inhabit these bodies, on this earth. Guard and Remember- Parshat Bamidbar 5/21/2015 3 Comments A question I often hear goes like this: “When I am meditating or chanting, I feel so deeply connected and I have no problem being my highest self. But, when stressful things in life push my buttons, all of that is out the window. "How do I maintain my spiritual connection in those moments?” This is a question that often comes up after you have had some success with your practice. Before that success, sure, you will still have been looking for a spiritual connection, realization, experience or whatever. But then, at the very moment when you think you've discovered and connected with what you've been searching for. . . Oy! . . . The problem is even deeper: How do I keep the connection? The simple answer, of course, is practice. You have to practice keeping that connection in different life situations. Only then will you get better and better at it. But I bet that answer doesn't feel so helpful to hear, right? After all, you know that when you find yourself in a stressful or triggering situation, two things sneak up and derail you: 1) You don’t care anymore about your spiritual connection, because you are triggered! You go into in a fight-or-flight mode. You just want to get out of there or lash out. 2) Even if you do care to practice in such a moment, you probably can’t remember to practice because you are triggered! Your emotions have taken over and blocked your memory of what's most essential, and how to get back to it! I guess you can see why, if you are going to actually be able to practice in those triggering situations, you'll first need a foolproof strategy for working through the two problems above. And . . . Here is exactly that! First of all, you need to remember to practice (zakhor), and second of all, you need to be motivated to practice (shamor). There are many ways to approach this, but let’s explore one. First, how do you remember? A great way to remember is to use what I call the “Fringe Technique”. You may know the traditional practice to wear fringes, called tzitizt, on a four-cornered garment, or tallit. The purpose of the tzitzit is exactly what we are talking about- they are a physical reminder on your body to dedicate your actions to the Divine and to avoid getting caught in distractions that take you away from that intention. Another purpose of the tzitzit is to remind you to do the mitzvot, the particular spiritual practices of Judaism, throughout your day. This brings us to the second problem- how do you remain motivated? Let’s take a particular mitzvah and see how this can work: There is a daily mitzvah to chant the words, “Ve’ahavtah et Hashem Elohekha… You shall love Existence, your inner Divinity, with all your heart, all your soul and all your might.” These words are an expression of commitment. For the sake of clarity, let’s rephrase it to express this commitment more explicitly. You might say, “I commit to serving the Divine in everything I do.” If you say this commitment every day (or use the traditional words, but understand them and mean them as a commitment), then you are adding tremendous power to your intention to practice in difficult moments. Why? Because even when you don’t care about spirituality in a moment of being triggered, you have made a commitment and you can rely on that commitment. You don’t have to care; you just have to honor your commitment. The actual saying out loud of a commitment will give tremendous power to your intention, even in the most difficult moments. But now you still have to remember your commitment. That’s where the “fringe” comes in. You need to have some kind of reminder that works for you all day long, so that your chances of remembering in those difficult moments are increased thousand-fold. Your reminder could actually be tzitzit. Of course, just wearing tzitzit is not enough; you have to train yourself to be reminded of your intention by them. For example, make it a practice to say your commitment over and over again, every time you look down and see them. But, any reminder will work, as long as you empower it as a reminder. For example, you could set your smart phone to give you reminders throughout the day. Or, you could wear something else like a piece of jewelry to remind you. Whatever you use, the key is to verbally say your intention out loud every day, and then have something to remind you throughout the day. Using this “Fringe Technique” is so powerful, you can transform your entire life in any direction you choose, simply by programming yourself with the intentions you choose. This week’s reading begins, “Vayidaber Hashem el Moshe b’midbar Sinai- Hashem spoke to Moses in the Sinai wilderness… se’u et rosh kol adat- take a census of the entire assembly… according to their head count…” Moses is instructed to count the Israelites who are ready to out go to battle. The wilderness, the midbar, is the arena in which we live. Like the wild of nature, life itself is not totally predictable. It throws us curve balls. We need to be like soldiers if we are to make each moment count by bringing our spiritual commitments to every situation. But later it says, “V’hal’viyim lo hotpakdu- the Levites were not counted…” The Levites weren’t soldiers. They were in charge of the sanctuary- the sacred space at the center of the camp where the Divine rested. They represent the people’s connection to the One. In the One, there is nothing to count! There is only One! And this is the paradox- To bring liberating intention to each moment, you need strategies that work in time. You need to be like a soldier. But, the Reality you safeguard through those strategies is Itself beyond time. It is the space of Presence that does not change; it is Being Itself- it is not born and does not die. When you stay connected to That, the storms of life cannot shake you. You sit within the eye of the hurricane, the holy of holies. May we bring forth our potential for unity and love through the power of our commitment to this moment, and may the world swiftly be transformed by it- Good Shabbos!
וַיְדַבֵּ֤ר יְהוָה֙ אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה בְּהַ֥ר סִינַ֖י לֵאמֹֽר׃
דַּבֵּ֞ר אֶל־בְּנֵ֤י יִשְׂרָאֵל֙ וְאָמַרְתָּ֣ אֲלֵהֶ֔ם כִּ֤י תָבֹ֙אוּ֙ אֶל־הָאָ֔רֶץ אֲשֶׁ֥ר אֲנִ֖י נֹתֵ֣ן לָכֶ֑ם וְשָׁבְתָ֣ה הָאָ֔רֶץ שַׁבָּ֖ת לַיהוָֽה׃ שֵׁ֤שׁ שָׁנִים֙ תִּזְרַ֣ע שָׂדֶ֔ךָ וְשֵׁ֥שׁ שָׁנִ֖ים תִּזְמֹ֣ר כַּרְמֶ֑ךָ וְאָסַפְתָּ֖ אֶת־תְּבוּאָתָֽהּ׃ The Divine spoke to Moses on Mt. Sinai saying, “Speak to the children of Israel and say to them, ‘When you come into the land that I give you, the land shall rest – a Shabbat for the Divine. Six years you shall sow your fields and six years you shall prune your vinyards and gather in your yields…’” (Leviticus 25) This week was the festival of Lag b’Omer, which means the “thirty-third day of the Omer,” the practice of counting the days between Pesakh and Shavuot. Lag is lamed ל – gimel ג, thirty-three. (Hebrew letters have numberical values; lamed ל is thirty, gimel ג is three.) These two letters, lamed ל – gimel ג, also have meanings: Lamed ל means “learn.” To learn means to go from a state of less knowledge to more knowledge; it is forward moving in time, filling a lack, going from incomplete to more complete without end, never reaching completion (since there is always more to learn). Gimel ג has the opposite connotation. Gamal means to “pay back,” in the sense of being already complete to overflowing. A gamal is also a camel, which carries its water in its hump as it traverses the desert; again, a symbol of being already complete-within-oneself. These two opposite meanings – the never-complete of lamed ל and the already-complete of gimel ג – point to two dimensions of our experience, right now. On the level of form, we are ever-incomplete. Our bodies need constant nourishment and excercise, and our minds must actively learn new things to stay sharp. In terms of spiritual practice, this is the ongoing practice of studying texts and contemplating meanings with the thinking mind. There is a hint in the Parshah: Six years you shall sow (tizra) your fields… Tizra תִּזְרַ֣ע, “sowing” or “seeding” is the work we must do on the “fields” of our minds. This is lamed ל, “learning.” But on the level of consciousness, the open space of awareness within which all forms come and go, there is a completeness to this moment; there is a wholeness when we “arrive” into the present. This is gimel ג. But to experience this fullness, we paradoxically need more emptiness; we need to “prune” away excess thought, so that we can sense the underlying Presence beneath our thoughts: …six years you shall prune (tizmor) your vinyards… Tizmor תִּזְמֹ֣ר, “pruning,” is the work we must do on “grapevine tendrils” of thought; this is meditation. “Sowing” and “pruning,” learning and meditation, thinking and not-thinking, are the substance of daily spiritual practice aimed at bringing about inner transformation. Six years you shall sow your fields and six years you shall prune your vinyards… “Six Years” is sheish shanim שֵׁשׁ שָׁנִים. Shanim, “years,” also can mean “change.” “Six” also means change, as in the “six days of creation.” The Hebrew letter that represents the number six is vav ו which, as a prefix, means “and” – again, implying adding, transforming, doing the dual spiritual work of “sowing” and “pruning.” But there is also a level at which all work stops. It stops not because the “sowing” and “pruning” are no longer happening, but because at this deep level, there is the recognition that is not “me” who does the work; there is the recognition that everything comes from and returns to the same Reality; we can’t “take credit” for any of it. This level is represented by Lag B’Omer. In terms of the sefirot, Lag B’Omer is Hod Sheb’Hod, or “Humility of Humility.” The essence of humility is not some kind of self-deprication or belittlement; it is the recognition that the “me” comes from beyond “me”; existance is a gift, everything I have and am is a gift. This is also freedom: we have nothing to lose or gain, because ultimately there is only Reality, there is only the Divine. וְשָׁבְתָ֣ה הָאָ֔רֶץ שַׁבָּ֖ת לַיהוָֽה – The land will rest a Shabbat for the Divine… You can “let the land rest a Shabbat for the Divine” any time – try it! Before you learn, before you meditate, before you do the dishes, whatever – take a moment to recognize Reality, to simply stop, to let the “me” dissolve and let this moment be One…
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The Bird and The Lizard – Parshat Behar
5/22/2019 0 Comments A friend of mine went to let out his dog, when he noticed a cute little baby dove huddled on the ground. Above was the nest that it must have fallen from. He kept his dog in the house while he went out and lifted the baby bird back into its nest. He wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do, but it seemed the right thing in the moment, and it was a warm and gratifying feeling to save that baby bird. Not long after, he was moving some furniture in his workplace. As he lifted a desk, be was taken aback by a huge, dead, rotting lizard with maggots crawling in it! It was disgusting sight, and he had to deal with it and clean it up. He told me this story because it seemed to him almost like a symbolic dream, and he was wondering what it meant. Why such a gratifying, life-affirming, cuddly experience followed by such a disgusting horrific, death centered experience? What was the meaning of it? Sometimes we are given situations that require immediate action. These are the real-time “commandments” – the mitzvot we don’t learn from books, but that appear to us and demand a response without hesitation. Sometimes the action required is to save a cute little bird, sometimes to clean up a rotting lizard corpse. Sometimes it is to feed a hungry baby, sometimes it is to yank a child out of the street when a car is coming, and sometimes it is to bury a loved one who has died unexpectedly. In other words, when it comes to being present to what is needed in the moment, it may be bitter or it may be sweet. There is a full spectrum of human experience, and if we want to be available to the “commandment” of the moment, we have to be open to both – we can’t avoid any of it. Of course, most of the time, there isn’t some unexpected urgent thing to deal with, barukh Hashem. Still, when it comes to being spiritually awake, when it comes to connecting with the Divine as the Reality of this moment, there is an ever-present urgency. There is only one place and one time to wake up and be free, and that is here, right now. As Hillel says, אִם לֹא עַכְשָׁיו, אֵימָתָי – If not now, when? And yet, paradoxically, to wake up is to fully accept; it is to embrace the Reality of this moment, not resist it. This has almost the opposite quality of urgency. It is more like patience; it is more like planting a seed and simply watching it grow, rather than jumping in and taking some action. לֹא הַבַּיְשָׁן לָמֵד, וְלֹא הַקַּפְּדָן מְלַמֵּד …a timid person can’t learn, and an impatient person can’t teach… -Pirkei Avot 2:6 Full Presence means the unity of these two seemingly opposite qualities. On one hand, don’t be timid – jump fully into the present, now! On the other hand, jumping fully into the Now means allowing it to be as it is, not to be impatient about how you think it should be or how you want it to be. אֵ֣ת סְפִ֤יחַ קְצִֽירְךָ֙ לֹ֣א תִקְצ֔וֹר וְאֶת־עִנְּבֵ֥י נְזִירֶ֖ךָ לֹ֣א תִבְצֹ֑ר שְׁנַ֥ת שַׁבָּת֖וֹן יִהְיֶ֥ה לָאָֽרֶץ׃ וְ֠הָיְתָה שַׁבַּ֨ת הָאָ֤רֶץ לָכֶם֙ לְאָכְלָ֔ה You shall not reap the aftergrowth of your harvest or gather the grapes of your untrimmed vines; it shall be a year of complete rest for the land. But you may eat whatever the land during its Sabbath will produce… The parshah talks about the practice of the shmita, the cycle in which every seven years, the land is given a Shabbat, a year of rest from farming. During this year, the Israelites were forbidden to work the land, to prune their vines, or manipulate their crops in any way. But, they could pick and eat whatever was there; they had to survive on whatever the land naturally gave them, without interference. This is a perfect metaphor for Presence: accept fully what this moment gives you, both the nourishing food and the thistles and thorns. Even as we work externally to bring about certain results, as we must do, on an inner level there can be a Sabbath of the land; we can accept both the bird and the lizard with that quality of patience, allowing the process to unfold as it must. Rabbi Levi Yitzhak once saw a man running. “Why are you in such a hurry?” “I am running after my livelihood!” replied the man. “You think your livelihood is in front of you and you must catch up to it, but how do you know it’s not behind you, and all you have to do is stop and let it catch up to you?” Ascend- Parshat Behar- On the Mountain 5/18/2017 0 Comments "When you come into the land that I give to you, the land will rest a Shabbat for the Divine..." The Torah reading Parshat Behar opens by talking about Shabbat not as a day of rest for people, but as a rest for the land. It says: Ki tavo’u el ha’aretz asher ani notein lakhem, v’shavta ha’aretz Shabbat laShem- When you come into the land that I give to you, the land will rest a Shabbat for the Divine. It then goes on to explain what it means for the land to rest: "Sheish shanim tizra sadekha v’sheish shanim tizmor karmekha v’asafta t’vuatah- "Six years your will plant your field, prune your vineyard and gather in your produce. "Uvashana hashvi’it Shabbat shabbaton yiyeh la’aretz- But the seventh year should be a Sabbath of Sabbaths for the land… don’t plant your field or prune your vineyard..." Now the Torah doesn’t talk much about vegetables. When it refers to planting fields, it’s mostly talking about grain, and from the grain is made the ancient staple, bread. Pruning vineyards is a reference of course to grapes that are made into wine. Now wine and bread are not only basic foods, they’re also sacramental foods- forming the ritual part of sacred meals on Shabbat and festivals. In fact, the first mention of this is in Bereishit 14:18 when Makitzedek, the priest-king of Shalem, blesses Avraham and brings him bread and wine. I heard once from a friend a special teaching that he heard from Rabbi Shlomo Carlbach of blessed memory. He pointed out that wine is something that gets better and better with age. You pay more for wine depending on how old it is. Bread, on the other hand, has to be fresh. No one wants a fifty year-old loaf of bread. Similarly, there’s an aspect of the spiritual path that’s ancient and an aspect that’s fresh and new. For example, the Torah, and really the whole Jewish tradition, is ancient and there’s a special richness in that. And even though there are plenty of passages in the Torah that may seem wrong and even disturbing, that’s offset in a sense by the richness of being connected to a lineage that’s many thousands of years old. And yet, that richness doesn’t really come to life unless it’s combined with fresh, new insights and interpretations. No one wants to hear the same old canonized interpretations over and over again. For the tradition to really live, it also has to be like bread- we need khidushim-new insights. On a deeper level, the very practice of Presence also contains these two aspects. On one hand, there is nothing more ancient than the present moment. There’s nothing that’s ever existed that didn’t exist in the space of its own present. That’s why one of the names of God is Atik Yomin- the Ancient of Days. And when you become fully present to the ancient space of this moment, there’s an intoxication, as you drink in the wine of the Being. At the same time, in becoming present to That which is most ancient, there’s also a spontaneous letting go of mental and emotional baggage from the past so that everything in your experience becomes alive and new like a freshly baked challah. So on this Shabbat B’Har and B’khukotai- the Sabbath of the Mountain and the Decree- may continue to ascend the mountain of transcendence and freedom through both the wine of tradition and the bread of immediacy, bringing that transcendence into the flow of actual life, doing our part to fulfill the decree of tikum olam- transforming this world into a celebration of creation and an expression of love. Good Shabbos!! Lonely The Drive- Parshat Behar 5/26/2016 0 Comments If you could choose exactly how much time to waste every day, how much would it be? Would you waste two hours per day? One hour per day? Or would you be conservative- maybe only waste twenty minutes? Five minutes? And furthermore, what does it mean to “waste time” anyway? Is watching a movie wasting time? What about sitting around enjoying a cup of tea? Taking a walk for no particular reason? Or, is “wasting time” about doing something that creates the exact opposite of what you want? If enjoyment is what you want, maybe watching a movie is a good use of time, as long as it’s not in excess. If peace is what you want, maybe sipping tea and taking walks are a great way to spend time. And, if you want to be miserable, maybe complaining and judging and gossiping and putting yourself and others down are just what the doctor ordered. But who wants to be miserable? And yet, many spend time complaining and judging and gossiping and putting self and others down. When was the last time you did one of those things? There’s really only one reason you would do something that creates the opposite result of what you want, and that’s not being conscious of what you are doing. Consciousness is the key. You want health, but an impulse arises to eat that unhealthy food. The impulse is bothering you, and you unconsciously assume that fulfilling the impulse will make you feel better and bring you peace. The problem is, fulfilling the impulse only gives you a temporary experience of relief, and you still haven’t come closer to the real peace you are seeking... plus you are working against your health. The real peace you seek can only come from getting to know who you are beneath all the impulses. It comes from knowing that underneath all your restless energies, there is an awareness that knows the restlessness. That awareness is peace. Shift your home from the restlessness to that awareness, and peace is yours, because you rise above all the stories about how you need this or that to have peace. But to do that, you need to be willing to let go of the company of your own thoughts, and be truly alone. This week’s reading begins- “Vayedaber Hashem el Moshe b’har Sinai- "Hashem spoke to Moses on Mt. Sinai…” After driving my son to school in the morning, I used to return home along Skyline up in the Oakland hills, from which I can catch a glimpse of the entire East Bay and San Francisco. Seeing these cities from above is an entirely different experience from being down in them. There is a sense of peace, of wonder, of floating above the seething urban chaos. It’s the same spiritually. To hear the Voice of the Divine, you have to take some time to tune out the voices of the mundane- that is, the voices of your own mind. Sinai is totally within you and available, once the movement of the mind subsides. And from Sinai comes the “Voice of the Divine”- meaning, the inner wisdom of how to live- to live without wasting time. A still mind is not a waste of time, it is the end of time. As the end of time, it's also the fulfillment of time. Fulfillment is completely available to you, right now, to the degree that you can open to your inner Sinai. The reading goes on to say- “Ki tavo el ha’arets… v’shavtah ha’arets Shabbat LaShem… "When you come into the land… the land itself shall rest a Shabbat…” The “land” is life itself- messy, chaotic, beautiful life itself. But, when you stop wasting time, guess what- life doesn’t take so much energy! Life itself becomes a “Shabbat”- simple, clear, straightforward. Do you want simplicity? Do you want clarity? Do you want peace? Do you want a life that is wholly Shabbat? Make a commitment now: “I will let go of all excess thought, moment by moment. I will refrain from creating negative narratives and stand alone in the Presence of God, without the noise of the mind.” Can you make this commitment? The Baal Shem Tov told: "Once I dreamed that I traveled to Gan Eden- the Garden of Eden- and many people went with me, chattering excitedly. But the closer I came to the Garden, the more of them disappeared, and the more quiet it became. "When I finally entered Paradise, there were only a few of them left, speaking softly, with few words. But when I stood beside the Tree of Life, I looked around- and I seemed to be alone." On this Shabbat Behar, The Sabbath on the Mountain, may have the courage to walk the road of true aloneness- aloneness not in the sense of being without others, but in the sense of allowing the mind to stand alone, without the constant and relentless company of thought. May we be renewed in peace and clarity- Good Shabbos! Is Time Wasting? Parshat Behar 5/15/2015 1 Comment Here’s a question for you- If you could choose exactly how much time to waste every day, how much would it be? Would you waste two hours per day? One hour per day? Or would you be conservative- maybe only waste twenty minutes? Five minutes? And furthermore, what does it mean to “waste time” anyway? Is watching a movie wasting time? What about sitting around enjoying a cup of tea? Taking a walk for no particular reason? Or, is “wasting time” about doing something that creates the exact opposite of what you want? If enjoyment is what you want, maybe watching a movie is a good use of time, as long as it’s not in excess. If peace is what you want, maybe sipping tea and taking walks are a great way to spend time. And, if you want to be miserable, maybe complaining and judging and gossiping and putting yourself and others down are just what the doctor ordered. But who wants to be miserable? And yet, many spend time complaining and judging and gossiping and putting self and others down. When was the last time you did one of those things? There’s really only one reason you would do something that creates the opposite result of what you want, and that’s not being conscious of what you are doing. Consciousness is the key. You want peace, but an impulse arises to eat that unhealthy food. The impulse is bothering you, and you unconsciously assume that fulfilling the impulse will make you feel better and bring you peace. The problem is, fulfilling the impulse only gives you a temporary experience of relief, and you still haven’t come closer to the real peace you are seeking. The real peace you seek can only come from getting to know who you are beneath all the impulses. It comes from knowing that underneath all your restless energies, you are peace, and you can know it for yourself. You can rise above any stories telling you that you need this or that to have peace. But to do that, you need to be conscious. You need to wake up from the dream of discontent that your impulses thrive on. How do you do that? This week’s reading begins- “Vayedaber Hashem el Moshe b’har Sinai- Hashem spoke to Moses on Mt. Sinai…” After driving my son to school in the morning, I often return home along Skyline up in the Oakland hills, from which I can catch a glimpse of the entire East Bay and San Francisco. Seeing these cities from above is an entirely different experience from being down in them. There is a sense of peace, of wonder, of floating above the seething urban chaos. It’s the same spiritually. In order to be conscious and free as you move through any disruptive and seductive energies in day-to-day life, you’ve got to get up on the mountain sometimes. To hear the Voice of the Divine, you have to take some time to tune out the voices of the mundane. Where do those mundane voices come from? They come from your own mind! Sinai is totally within you and available to you, once the movement of the mind subsides. From Sinai comes the “Voice of the Divine”- meaning, the inner wisdom of how to live- -to live without wasting time. A still mind is not a waste of time, it is the end of time. As the end of time, it is also the fulfillment of time. Fulfillment is completely available to you, right now, to the degree that you can open to your inner Sinai. The reading goes on to say- “ki tavo el ha’arets… v’shavtah ha’arets Shabbat LaShem… when you come into the land… the land itself shall rest a Shabbat…” The “land” is life itself- messy, chaotic, beautiful life itself. But, when you stop wasting time, guess what- life doesn’t take so much energy! Your life itself becomes a “Shabbat”- simple, clear, straightforward. Do you want simplicity? Do you want clarity? Do you want peace? Do you want a life that is wholly Shabbat? Make a commitment now: “I will let go of all excess thought, moment by moment. I will refrain from creating negative narratives and open to the reality of this moment, from this moment onward.” Can you make this commitment? I wish you renewing peace and clarity on this holy Shabbat, from the mountaintop~ Good Shabbos! |
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