There is a story that Rabbi Baer of Radoshitz, the disciple of Rabbi Yizhak Yosef (the Seer of Lublin), once asked his teacher: “Can you tell me the most fundamental, basic spiritual practice I should be doing?”
The Seer answered, “It is impossible to say one general practice, because each person must carefully observe their own inclinations, and then follow their own path with their whole being. For one, it might be studying the teachings, and for another, it might be prayer. For one it might be fasting, and for another, eating! Be aware of your own character, and embrace that as your fundamental practice.” Self-awareness, meaning awareness of the unique constellation of elements that make up your personality, is vital for crafting a life-path that fulfills the truth of your being. This is as the Seer says in the above story – we must choose a life path based on the truth of who we are on the personal level of talent, desire, life experience, and so on, and then live that life with as much Presence as we can. But, at the same time, there is another important reason for cultivating this kind of self-awareness: Once, Rabbi Mendel was once visiting Rabbi Elimelekh for a Shabbat meal. Rabbi Mendel was a very meek fellow, exceedingly humble, and he lived in great poverty. As everyone at the table began to eat the soup, Rabbi Elimelekh noticed that Rabbi Mendel wasn’t eating. “Why don’t you eat?” asked Rabbi Elimelekh. “I am sorry- I don’t have a spoon,” replied Rabbi Mendel. Rabbi Elimelekh replied sharply, “Look! One must know when to ask for a spoon, and even a plate if necessary!” Rabbi Mendel took his words to heart, and from that time onward, his fortunes steadily improved. I don’t know if this story about Rabbi Mendel is the source of that old Jewish joke about the man who calls over the waiter and says there is something wrong with the soup. “Is it too cold?” asks the waiter. “Try the soup!” says the man. “Too hot?” “Try the soup!” “Too salty?” “Will you just try the soup??” “Okay… where’s the spoon?” “AHA!” I the joke, the waiter had forgotten the spoon; in the story of Rabbi Mendel, he was too meek to ask for one. Both point to the other crucial reason why we should be aware of our uniqueness – it is to be aware of our weaknesses; is to know when we should do the opposite of our inclination. Our natural inclination is a double-edged sword. For the most part, Rabbi Mendel’s meekness served him, and was the foundation of the unique character of his spiritual life. But there was also a shadow side; it caused him unnecessary suffering which was cured only when this deficiency was pointed out to him, and he decided to change his behavior. The point is, we are our uniqueness, but we are not only our uniqueness. We can also transcend it; we can go beyond what is natural and comfortable, because we are more than form; we are also the vast field of awareness beyond the form. There is a hint in the parshah: וְשָׁ֣כַנְתִּ֔י בְּת֖וֹךְ בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל וְהָיִ֥יתִי לָהֶ֖ם לֵאלֹהִֽים׃ I will dwell between/within the Children of Israel, and I will for them Elohim. וְיָדְע֗וּ כִּ֣י אֲנִ֤י יְהוָה֙ אֱלֹ֣הֵיהֶ֔ם אֲשֶׁ֨ר הוֹצֵ֧אתִי אֹתָ֛ם מֵאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרַ֖יִם לְשָׁכְנִ֣י בְתוֹכָ֑ם אֲנִ֖י יְהוָ֥ה אֱלֹהֵיהֶֽם׃ And they shall know that I am Existence Itself, their own Divinity, who brought them out from the land of Egypt that I may dwell between/within them; I am Existence Itself, their own Divinity.
The first verse expresses the value of the unique character of the Children of Israel: וְשָׁ֣כַנְתִּ֔י בְּת֖וֹךְ בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל – I will dwell between/within the Children of Israel… In other words, because they are the Children of Israel, because of their unique connection with the Divine, the Divine “dwells within them.” In the story, their uniqueness is expressed in the building of the Mishkan (Tabernacle) the installment of the Kohanim (priests), and so on. Similarly, our own uniqueness is also the path to realizing our Divine essence; we must construct the Mishkan of our lives based on the truth of our own unique qualities. This is what we might call the “constructive path” of ה hei – the embracing of our uniqueness in order to build a life path that is conducive to Presence. But then it says: וְיָדְע֗וּ כִּ֣י אֲנִ֤י יְהוָה֙ אֱלֹ֣הֵיהֶ֔ם אֲשֶׁ֨ר הוֹצֵ֧אתִי אֹתָ֛ם מֵאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרַ֖יִם לְשָׁכְנִ֣י בְתוֹכָ֑ם And they shall know that I am Existence Itself, their own Divinity, who brought them out from the land of Egypt that I may dwell between/within them… In other words, in order for the Divine to “dwell among them,” they must first be “brought out of Egypt.” Egypt is Mitzrayim, which means narrowness, limitedness. In other words, they must not only express their uniqueness, they must also transcend their uniqueness; they must go out from the bondage of identification with form and know their essence as spaciousness. Similarly, we too must be aware of how our personality may block us from fulfilling our full potential, so that we can know when we must go outside of our “comfort zone” and grow. This is what we might call the “destructive path” of ה hei. It is destructive not in the sense of obliterating the forms of our personal character, but in the sense of freeing us from identification with those forms. Then we can know: אֲנִ֖י יְהוָ֥ה אֱלֹהֵיהֶֽם – Ani Adonai Eloheihem – The deepest “I” is Divine, their own inner Divine Nature...
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I and Thou – Parshat Tetzaveh
3/4/2020 0 Comments בְּרֹ֣ב חַ֭סְדְּךָ אָב֣וֹא בֵיתֶ֑ךָ In Your abundant kindness I will enter Your House… (Psalm 5:8) I admit, I am not very good at staying in touch with people. I wish I were, but this deficiency is really the result of another deficiency, which is that I’m no good at multitasking. Unlike some people in my family who seem to effortlessly keep many people and their birthdays and everything else going on in their minds constantly, my mind tends to stay simple. Still, I am in touch with friends I’ve had since childhood, thanks to a little trick I’ve developed – I rope my friends into projects, and then we are forced to be in touch. The irony is that being “in touch,” that is, being present with one another, is the greater value. Whatever projects we are doing are nowhere near as important as the relationship. Relationships are for their own sake; they are not a goal in time, but they are fulfilled in Presence. Any yet, having a goal in time is helpful for the maintenance of the relationship, even though it is of lesser value. In this way, the lesser serves the greater, and the greater often needs the lesser in order to have a place in this world of busyness. In the case of spirituality, we also need something of lesser value to help us “keep in touch” with the Greater Value. אָב֣וֹא בֵיתֶ֑ךָ – Avo Veitekha – I will enter Your House The psalm uses the metaphor of “entering” God’s “House” to describe being present with the Divine Presence. We can do this at any moment, since everything that exists partakes of Existence; every moment is always This Eternal Moment. But, in most moments, we have other things taking our attention! Thus, we must make times in our day that are only for God; we have to make a “project” of our spirituality, dress the Divine in the “garb of the world” so to speak, so that it stands a chance. This is our daily spiritual practice, as well as the weekly twenty-five hours of Shabbat. Before you take the leap in commitment to Shabbat or daily practice, it seems impossible. Many people say to me, “How can you have time for Shabbat every week? How can you have time to meditate every day?” It is miraculous, but it is a miracle you can experience by taking the leap. That’s why “entering” the “House” is called “kindness” – בְּרֹ֣ב חַ֭סְדְּךָ אָב֣וֹא בֵיתֶ֑ךָ B’rov Hasdekha Avo Veitekha – In Your abundant kindness I will enter Your House… We receive our ability to devote our time and energy to practice as a gift, as an expression of Divine Hesed (kindness), not merely as an expression of our own willpower. In this way, the logistics of scheduling too becomes part of the practice, not something separate from it. You can also reverse-engineer Presence from your goal-oriented relationships. Next time you are checking out at the store, or dealing with any person that you don’t know for the sake of some task or goal, you can bring the dimension of Presence into the relationship. Yes, you are only dealing with this person because of what you need to accomplish, but you can use the opportunity to let the “lesser” serve the “Greater” – open yourself to the miracle of the person before you; appreciate that the Divine comes to you now in the form of this person before you. Martin Buber had a special way of referring to these two realities: when we relate to someone or something as serving a function, as having a goal in time, we are in an “I-it” relationship. When we relate to someone for their own sake, being present for its own sake, we are in an “I-You” (or “I-Thou”) relationship. There’s a hint in the parshah: וְאַתָּה הַקְרֵב אֵלֶיךָ אֶת־אַהֲרֹן אָחִיךָ And you shall bring Aaron, your brother, close to you… (Exodus 28:1) Moses is receiving instructions about how to transform his brother Aaron and his sons into kohanim, priests. But before going into all the detail about how to create the sacred vestments they must wear, it says, hakareiv eilekha – bring him close to you! In other words, in order for all the elaborate ritual stuff to work, it has to be grounded in Presence. Presence is the point of the ritual elements – so before Moses gets involved with the ritual functions of his brother, he has to first connect with his brother for his own sake, as a “You,” before talking about his function as an “It.” A hassid once asked Rabbi Yisakhar Baer of Radoshitz: “The Talmud says that Rabbi Shimon bar Yokhai said to his son, ‘My son, you and I are enough for the world.’ How are we to understand this?” He answered, “In the Tosefta we read, “The underlying meaning of the creation of the world is that the creature says to the Holy One, ‘You are the Divine!’ And the Holy One replies, ‘I am the Divine.’ This ‘You’ and this ‘I’ are enough for the world…” The Fire of Awareness – Parshat Tetzaveh 2/12/2019 1 Comment Someone told me recently that she felt so bad about herself, that she hadn’t done anything of worth, that she had messed up so much in her life. I encouraged her to notice that those were thoughts, that she didn’t have to “buy in” to those thoughts. “But it’s TRUE!” she insisted. “What is true,” I said, “is that those thoughts are present, the feelings that come with those thoughts are present, the sense of your body breathing right now is present, the sound of my voice is present… that’s TRUE.” She started to relax a little bit… barukh Hashem, because as we know, she could have punched in the mouth instead! When a person is captivated by thoughts and feelings, it is not always helpful to point that out; a person has to be ready for that kind of pointing. We may or may not be able to help another person get free from the web of ego, but there is one person we can help – and that’s ourselves. Notice: there is an absolute truth, and that’s the truth of whatever is arising in your experience, right now. The point, however, is not necessarily the content of your experience; the point is being the noticing. When you can see clearly – there is a thought, there is a feeling, there is a sensation – then there is the possibility of knowing: you are the noticing, you are the awareness, you are not trapped by any thought or feeling. You are the openness within which this moment unfolds. That is freedom. And from that freedom, you can see clearly: is this thought helpful? Is this thought destructive? Spiritual teachings often come in diametrically opposed pairs. There’s a teaching of the Hassidic rebbe, Rabbi Simcha Bunim of P’shikha, that everyone should carry two slips of paper, one in each pocket. On one should be written, “I am but dust and ashes,” (Genesis 18:27) and on the second, “For me the world was created” (Talmud Bavli, Sanhedrin, 37b). As one goes through life, one should develop the wisdom to know which slip of paper to take out at which time. Could there be more diametrically opposed messages? The point is, our thoughts are not “true” or “not true,” they are either useful or not useful. From a spiritual point of view, they are useful if they move us from ego to freedom, from resistance to acceptance. Sometimes, acceptance means letting go and letting things be (“I am but dust and ashes.”) But that doesn’t mean passivity or weakness; often, it means the acceptance of responsibility (“For me the world was created.”) This moment, this situation, as it is, right now, is. How shall we respond? Shall we turn away, deny and ignore? Or, shall we address this moment as it is and step up to what must be done? This too is acceptance, this too is freedom – not freedom from responsibility, but freedom from resistance to accepting the responsibility that is already yours. וְאַתָּ֞ה תְּצַוֶּ֣ה ׀ אֶת־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֗ל וְיִקְח֨וּ אֵלֶ֜יךָ שֶׁ֣מֶן זַ֥יִת זָ֛ךְ כָּתִ֖ית לַמָּא֑וֹר לְהַעֲלֹ֥ת נֵ֖ר תָּמִֽיד You shall command the Israelites to take for you oil of olives, pure, crushed, for illumination, to kindle continuous flame... The oil is already burning – it is the ner tamid – the continuous flame of your consciousness, the essence of who you are, within which this moment unfolds. The question is, are you conscious of your consciousness? You are already aware, but are you aware that you are the awareness? To wake up, to become aware on this deeper level, you have to purify your awareness from its identification with thoughts and feelings; you have to “crush” them from your consciousness. Like the olive, there’s a hard pit at the core; that’s the ego. How? Be the loving Presence that surrounds your ego. No need to try to get rid of it – that’s just more ego! Instead, accept the fulness of this moment as it is, resistance and all, feelings and all, thoughts and all, without “adding to the story” – without “buying in.” In doing that, you illuminate the awareness that is already free from all that; לְהַעֲלֹ֥ת נֵ֖ר תָּמִֽיד – you kindle the eternal flame – that is the beginning of awakening. Wringing Out the Sponge – Parshat Tetzaveh 2/23/2018 2 Comments Exodus 27:20 וְאַתָּ֞ה תְּצַוֶּ֣ה ׀ אֶת־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֗ל וְיִקְח֨וּ אֵלֶ֜יךָ שֶׁ֣מֶן זַ֥יִת זָ֛ךְ כָּתִ֖ית לַמָּא֑וֹר לְהַעֲלֹ֥ת נֵ֖ר תָּמִֽיד׃ You shall command the Israelites to bring you olive oil, clear, pressed, for illumination, for kindling lamps constantly... Becoming present is like ringing out a sponge, or pressing the air out of an air pump. On one hand, there's a kind of contraction, as you squeeze the sponge or pump. On the other hand, the water in the sponge or the air in the pump becomes more expansive as it's released. Similarly, thoughts tend to be absorbed in the "sponge" of thinking. Becoming present requires a "pressing" of consciousness from it's ordinary absorption in thought, into the expansive fullness of your experience in the present. This is hinted at in the above passage. The olive oil should be zakh – clear, pure – meaning, not mingled with thoughts and attitudes. Simply be the clear space within which this moment arises. To do this, it has to be kateet – pressed. Meaning, "press" yourself into your present moment experience. This "pressing" is the freeing of consciousness from the forms it takes in thought... Darkness to Light – Parshat Tetzaveh March 10, 2017 This week’s Torah reading is Parshat Tetzaveh. Tetzaveh means, “And you shall command.” It begins with God telling Moses: “V’atah tetzaveh et b’nai Yisrael- and you shall command the children of Israel- v’yik’khu eilekha shemen zayit zakh katit lama’or- they should take to you oil from olives, pure, crushed, for illumination- l’ha’alot ner tamid- for kindling the eternal flame.” So what’s the “eternal flame?” It’s your awareness that’s there all the time- whether you’re asleep or awake, whether you’re angry or openhearted, there’s always this basic awareness there, so you don’t have to create it- it’s already tamid- already constant. But, the tendency is for your awareness to constantly get drawn in by the dramas of the mind and heart, the image we have of reality, rather than connect with Reality directly. So in order to free your awareness from your mind, you do have to “kindle it” so to speak. Just as when you’re asleep, you’re a little bit aware, otherwise no one would be able to wake you up. But once someone does wake you up, your awareness greatly increases. So too there’s a way l’ha’alot ner tamid- to kindle the eternal flame- meaning, to increase your awareness that’s already there, and wake up even more. And how do you do that? You need shemen zayit- olive oil. Now olives have a hard, inedible pit within them. Similarly, there’s ordinarily a hard, seemingly impenetrable pit at the core of who we are. From the moment we wake up in the morning, there’s that sense that “I” have woken up. You feel angry at someone, there’s a sense that “I” am angry. If you let go of the anger and you get all expansive and forgiving and loving, there’s still the sense that “I” am expansive and forgiving and loving. That’s the pit- the pit is the “I.” And just like you can’t eat the pit and transform it into nourishment, so it seems that the “I” is irreducible. No matter what experience you have, it’s always “you” having it. But just as the olive fruit is crushed along with the pit to make olive oil, as it says, zakh katit- pure and crushed, so too that hard sense of “me” known as the ego can be crushed into oil, and that oil becomes fuel for consciousness- fuel for enlightenment. So how do you get the oil from the olive pit of the self and burn it in the light of awareness? The essential thing is not to try and control your mind, or try to not have judgments or think less, but rather it’s simply to notice what is in this moment. You have thoughts and feelings? Just know that there are thoughts and feelings. Let your awareness rest in the actual truth of your experience in this moment- being present with your feelings as they arise and fall, being present with your body and the rise and fall of your breathing, and being the perceiving presence behind your thoughts. In this way you naturally let go of the mental urge to retreat into your mind, which is what creates the sense of “me,” known as ego, and instead feel yourself as the luminous presence within which the mystery of this moment is unfolding. There’s a wonderful hint of this in the next line: “B’ohel mo’ed- In the tent of the special time of meeting- that is, the tent of meeting the present- mikhutz laparokhet asher al ha’eidut- on the outside of the concealing curtain that’s over the tabletson which the ten commandments are written, that’s where Aaron will kindle the eternal flame. Now the word for the tablets, eidut, actually doesn’t mean tablets, that would be lukhot. Rather, eidutmeans testimony or witness. This witness is behind the parokhet- behind the curtain- you can’t see the witness. And this is exactly the nature of consciousness. Consciousness sees everything else, but just like the eyeball, it can’t see itself; it’s a mystery to itself. So what you get in spiritual awakening is not any new piece of information or expanded knowledge, but rather the awareness of the Nothing; the is-ness beyond all understanding that’s forever behind the curtain, so to speak. And yet, you are the witness- you are behind the curtain. You can’t understand consciousness, but you can simply be conscious- you can simply be present… and that’s awakening out of the dream of the mind. But to do this in a really deep and transformative way, the olive pits have to be katit- crushed. This means that when suffering comes your way- when things go wrong, when you suffer loss, when you experience anger or worry or fear- bring your awareness into the feelings. Let the feelings be without elaborating on them too much in your mind, without blaming or trying to figure out how to avoid them in the future. Instead, let their energy crush the pit of ego. It’s not necessarily pleasant, but it’s temporary and leads to greater illumination. To help remember, you can say to yourself repeatedly- “Whatever suffering comes my way is for the purpose of illumination.” So write that down, and say it to yourself over and over. In this way, any ordinary situation that produces suffering can be an opportunity to increase the light of consciousness and ultimately open to greater joy and bliss in simply Being. So as we approach this Shabbat Tetzaveh, the Sabbath of Command, may we all receive this mitzvah-this commandment- to ignite the eternal flame of awareness with the oil that’s pressed out of us through whatever suffering happens to come our way. And as our light increases, so too may we transform our actions to crush any stuck patterns of negativity and open to the blessing inherent in this life... Take Off Your Headphones! Parshat Tetzaveh 2/16/2016 Do you ever listen to music in headphones? Sometimes I’ll want to hear the same song in my headphones over and over again, until I get sick of it. The song takes on a personal theme quality, and I want it to score my whole life. But imagine going out to see the singer of your favorite song perform live. Would you pull out your headphones and listen to a recording of it, rather than listen to the actual concert? Of course not! And yet, that’s often what happens in the spiritual sense, when your mind becomes engrossed in some thought, idea, desire, or memory. Rather than live life as it’s happening, you're absorbed in your own mind. It’s like listening to a recording in headphones when the real thing is happening live right in front of you! This week's reading begins: “V’atah tetzaveh et b’nai Yisrael...” “And you shall command the Children of Israel that they should take for you pure olive oil, pressed, for illumination, to kindle a lamp continually.” “Oil” represents awareness. To “take” the “oil” means to take your awareness into your own hands. Your mind need not wander about like a child- you can take “command” of it. “… pressed, for illumination” Ordinarily the mind wanders aimlessly, and awareness glows dully in the background. But if you “press” your awareness, which means bringing your mind back again and again to the present, it will begin to glow brightly, illuminating your mind. “… to kindle a lamp continually.” With ordinary fire, once you kindle it, it burns on its own. But with consciousness, you must “kindle” it “continually.” This means developing the habit of reeling your mind back, again and again, to the Reality of this moment. Once, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak began greeting everyone after prayers as if they had just returned from a long journey. “Shalom Aleikhem! Shalom aleikhem!” exclaimed the rebbe to each and every congregant. When they gave him strange looks, he responded- “Why do you look surprised? While the hazan was singing, you weren’t here at all. This one was in the market place, this one was on a cargo ship, this one was relaxing at home. When the singing stopped, you all returned, so I greeted you shalom aleikhem!” The Greatest Singer of All performs a concert right now. It’s the only concert there is- the magical unfolding of this moment! On this Shabbat Tetzaveh, the Sabbath of Command, may we remember to heed the Great Command that sings to us continuously: Be present! And through our mindfulness, may the consciousness of all humanity be elevated, so that awareness and love may reign supreme in the minds and hearts of all. Good Shabbos!
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וְאַל תְּהִי רָשָׁע בִּפְנֵי עַצְמְךָ
…and do not consider yourself to be wicked.
This aphorism reminds us not to hold negative narratives about ourselves – rather, we should know that our essence is Divine, no matter what mistakes we make and no matter what thoughts and feelings arise. The Hasidic rebbe, Rabbi Barukh of Medzebozh, taught a novel twist on this mishna. The idiom for “consider yourself” is בִּפְנֵי עַצְמְךָ bifnei atzmekha – literally, “facing oneself.” With this literal meaning, Rabbi Barukh translates it this way: וְאַל תְּהִי רָשָׁע בִּפְנֵי עַצְמְךָ Don’t be wicked by facing yourself! In other words, don’t shut yourself up too much in solitude; every person has a unique constellation of qualities that exist for the purpose of contributing something unique to the world. Not only must we not think of ourselves in a negative way, we must know that we possess an inherent and unique value that must be shared in a positive way. Similarly, a disciple of Rabbi Yekhiel Mikhel, the Maggid of Zlotchov, once asked him: “How are we to understand the teaching that we are duty bound to ask ourselves, ‘When will our actions approach those of our ancestors?’ How could we possibly compare ourselves to our forefathers and foremothers?” The Maggid explained: “Just as our ancestors embodied unique paths of service – one with love, one with discipline, another with beauty – so too each person has unique qualities, and we should use our uniqueness to create a new path of service, and do what has not yet been done.” This recognition and embracing of our inherent uniqueness is the Fifteenth Path of Presence, the Hebrew letter ה hei. Unlike the first four letters, which point to universal aspects of transcendent awareness, hei points to the unique ways that consciousness manifests for each of us on the levels of thought, feeling and form, and also hints at our potential for creating something new in the world. This individualistic nature of hei manifests both as our uniquely created selves and also as that which our “selves” create. Our uniqueness as created beings is expressed in the Torah which frames humans as expressions of the Infinite; the One who is beyond all limited, specific form, manifests in the infinite number of possible human forms: וַיִּבְרָ֨א אֱלֹהִ֤ים אֶת־הָֽאָדָם֙ בְּצַלְמ֔וֹ בְּצֶ֥לֶם אֱלֹהִ֖ים בָּרָ֣א אֹת֑וֹ זָכָ֥ר וּנְקֵבָ֖ה בָּרָ֥א אֹתָֽם׃ And Elohim created human in Its image, in the image of Elohim It created him; male and female It created them.
Furthermore, our ability to also become creators ourselves is expressed in the very next verse: וַיְבָ֣רֶךְ אֹתָם֮ אֱלֹהִים֒ וַיֹּ֨אמֶר לָהֶ֜ם אֱלֹהִ֗ים פְּר֥וּ וּרְב֛וּ וּמִלְא֥וּ אֶת־הָאָ֖רֶץ וְכִבְשֻׁ֑הָ וּרְד֞וּ בִּדְגַ֤ת הַיָּם֙ וּבְע֣וֹף הַשָּׁמַ֔יִם וּבְכָל־חַיָּ֖ה הָֽרֹמֶ֥שֶׂת עַל־הָאָֽרֶץ׃ Elohim blessed them and Elohim said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply – fill the earth and master it, and rule the fish of the sea, the birds of the sky, and all the living things that creep on earth.”
Traditionally, the commandment of p’ru ur’vu, “be fruitful and multiply,” is seen as the first mitzvah of the Torah; it is incumbent upon us to insure that humanity continues to survive through procreation. But on a deeper level, this mitzvah expands to include creativity in general; human life is a creative process through which new “fruits” constantly come into being. For many, our situation as creators can give us a sense of purpose and reason for living. And yet, when the suffering of life becomes overwhelming (God forbid), all of our efforts can feel like they are for naught, nothing but “vanity and striving after wind,” as Kohelet puts it (Ecclesiastes 1:14). What is the remedy? There is a story of Reb Levi Yitzhak, that whenever he would celebrate the Passover Seder and come to the passage about the Four Sons, he would stop at the son who doesn’t know how to ask. “That’s me, Levi Yitzhak – I am the son who doesn’t know how to ask! I don’t know how to ask what this is all for, why we are here, what is the purpose of it all. And even if I did, how could I bear the answer? I do not want to know why I suffer as I do; I want to know that my suffering is for You. And just as it says, ‘you shall answer your son, saying…’ so You, my Father, must answer!” In this story, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak gets to the root of the issue: the meaning of life is not a matter of the mind, but a matter of the heart: “I do not want to know why I suffer as I do; I want to know that my suffering is for You!” In other words – our actions, our creative fruits we bring into the world amid sometimes unbearable suffering – are worth it when they are done with love. Offering ourselves up in love is, in the paradigm of the Torah, the way the world becomes a “home” for the Divine Presence, as it says in this parshah: וְיִקְחוּ־לִ֖י תְּרוּמָ֑ה מֵאֵ֤ת כָּל־אִישׁ֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר יִדְּבֶ֣נּוּ לִבּ֔וֹ... וְעָ֥שׂוּ לִ֖י מִקְדָּ֑שׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּ֖י בְּתוֹכָֽם Take for Me an offering from every person whose heart moves them… and they shall make for me a sanctuary, and I will dwell within them…
That which we call “Divine,” the Presence of Being in all beings, is always already the Root of who we are; It is the consciousness that reads these words right now. But in order for consciousness to become aware of its Root as the Divine, in order for the Divine to truly “dwell” as the Presence that we are, we must “build the Sanctuary;” that is, we must offer of ourselves in the way our hearts are spontaneously moved to offer. In other words, do what you love – make your passion into your practice, and build your life as a “sanctuary” of Presence – this is the Path of ה Hei.
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Silent Burst – Parshat Terumah
2/24/2020 0 Comments יהוה מָגֵן בַּעֲדִי כְּבוֹדִי וּמֵרִים רֹאשִׁי – Hashem magein ba'adi, kevodi umeirim roshi! Hashem, You are a shield for me – You are the Presence within, transcending my mind… (Psalm 3:4) A hassid once came to Rabbi Menahem Mendel of Kotsk in search of a blessing for his poverty and troubles. “Don’t worry,” the rabbi tried to comfort him, “Pray with all your heart, and surely HaRakhaman – the Merciful One – will have rakhmanus on you.” “But I don’t know how to pray,” said the hassid. “Well then,” replied the rabbi, “you indeed have much to worry about.” The art of prayer lies in the bringing together of two polar opposite qualities. On one hand, prayer is a stripping away – an uncovering of the raw, naked reality of the heart. This is umeirim roshi – “lifting my head” – meaning, getting out of our heads and feeling the fullness of longing within our hearts. Then, from this longing, contemplating that the object of our longing is the closest thing to us; the Divine is ever-present, the inner Reality of all things. This in turn awakens our own Divine essence, and this is kevodi – “my presence” or “my glory” – meaning, the recognition of our own awareness as Divine. On the other hand, prayer is also an embodying of that Reality in the palace of words, an expression of the ineffable in the holy sounds of language. This is magein ba'adi – a “shield for me.” Our patterns of thought, feeling, and language tend to conceal the Divine essence; no matter how much we uncover It, it is doomed to fall into hiddenness again and again, unless we can craft a form that reveals It as well as conceals It. This is the role of prayer and words of Torah in general – to give form to the Formless, to “shield” us against the spirit-deadening powers of the mundane. Up until this parshah, the Exodus from Egypt has been an uncovering, a going forth from the familiar and habitual, into the freedom and discomfort of the unknown. Moses has been receiving the Divine revelations outdoors, up on the mountaintop, far above the throng of human life. But the content of the revelation always points back to life; it doesn’t emphasize transcendence, but rather the expressing the transcendent in the imminent. This movement is embodied symbolically as the building of the Mikdash: וְעָ֥שׂוּ לִ֖י מִקְדָּ֑שׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּ֖י בְּתוֹכָֽם׃ Make for me a Mikdash – a Sanctuary – and I will dwell within them. Moses leaves the world of form to connect with the transcendent, but it is through the building of sacred form that the transcendent becomes part of communal life. For us, the act of prayer must contain both of these poles as well. It doesn’t matter so much which pole comes first, as long as the other follows. Our awareness may begin to glow and swell in the silence, overflowing into the vessels of words of prayer, or we may begin with chanting the words, allowing them to draw us back into the silence. Either way, it is through the interplay of silence and sound, of ayin and yesh, that the transformational power of prayer works its magic; prayer and meditation are the tones and rhythm of the music of the soul… Love is the Reason – Parshat Terumah 2/7/2019 0 Comments Last Shabbat, after I taught in our Berkeley synagogue, I walked through town with a rabbi friend of mine. He told me that when he was younger, he used to attend meditation retreats and seek out teachings on spiritual awakening. But over time he moved away from those things because they seemed too abstract. It seemed to him that such teachings aimed at awakening an experience of the transcendent, but they didn’t address his fundamental question: why are we here in this life? If it’s all about transcending the world, what’s the meaning of living in the world? Recently, I was listening to a talk by the outspoken intellectual Jordan Peterson in which he said that, to any thinking person, it should be obvious that the meaning of existence must be grounded in the fact of unbearable human suffering. Hassidic teaching says something similar: There is a story of Reb Levi Yitzhak, that whenever he would celebrate the Passover Seder and come to the passage about the Four Sons, he would stop at the son who doesn’t know how to ask. “That’s me, Levi Yitzhak – I am the son who doesn’t know how to ask! I don’t know how to ask what this is all for, why we are here, what is the purpose of it all. And even if I did, how could I bear the answer? I do not want to know why I suffer as I do; I want to know that my suffering is for You. And just as it says, ‘you shall answer your son, saying…’ so You, my Father, must answer!” In this Hassidic understanding, suffering is not the meaning of existence, but it is the thing that causes us to ask the meaning of existence. And further: it is not the philosophical question of why that is of ultimate concern, but for Whom. In other words, it is a question not of the mind, but of the heart. This points to a central truth: the question of meaning is fulfilled only through love. That is the only reason to endure all the suffering, because love is the ultimate joy – shining even at the very depths of suffering. The mind searches for the question of meaning, but it can never really be satisfied with any conceptual answer, no matter how convincing. Trying to find meaning through the mind is like trying to taste food with your hands; no matter how much food you smear on your hands, you will never be satisfied. Only actual eating can satisfy hunger; only actual love can satisfy the hunger for meaning. וְיִקְחוּ־לִ֖י תְּרוּמָ֑ה מֵאֵ֤ת כָּל־אִישׁ֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר יִדְּבֶ֣נּוּ לִבּ֔וֹ... וְעָ֥שׂוּ לִ֖י מִקְדָּ֑שׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּ֖י בְּתוֹכָֽם Take for Me an offering from every person whose heart moves them… and they shall make for me a sanctuary, and I will dwell within them. It is only through the life of the heart that Sanctuary is built – a life in which, since the loving heart desires to give, giving is actually a form of receiving. And, since everything we receive is taken as an expression of the Divine love for us, receiving is also a form of giving – barukh Hashem! זָהָ֥ב וָכֶ֖סֶף וּנְחֹֽשֶׁת gold, silver and copper… See – there are three levels to experience right now: thought, feeling and sensory experience. The feeling level determines the quality of experience – its mood – attraction and revulsion, adoration and anger, curiosity and boredom. This is the level of the heart from which love arises, and hence from which the meaning of existence is fulfilled. We might think, then, that the heart is the level of “gold” – but it is not. Why? Notice: your feelings, as primary as they are, are ultimately determined by your thoughts – by how you interpret your experience. Think good, feel good; think bad, feel bad. Most of us assume the opposite: we start to feel bad, and so we start thinking in a negative way. But wake up out of the seductiveness of your feelings by being present with them and accepting them, and you can realize: you can actually decide which thoughts to nurture and which thoughts to dismiss. That decision is itself a thought, arising from a deep wisdom beyond the gravity of feeling and the seductiveness of thought. That wisdom is awareness itself – hokhmah – beyond both thought and feeling. That is why the mind, though it cannot ultimately bring us real fulfillment, is the "gold" and the heart is the "silver" – because the mind rules the heart. The third level is sensory experience, corresponding to action. Action is an expression of the heart, which is in turn ruled by the mind. We don’t act unless we are motivated to act; we have to first want on the level of heart, and that determines our action. Thus, action is the level of copper. Take for Me an offering from every person whose heart moves them… Without the awareness of what we really are, beneath our thoughts, feelings and sensory experience, our thoughts tend to be ruled by the unconscious impulses of our hearts, leading ultimately to unconscious and reactive actions. But being aware that we are the awareness behind all experience, we can choose our thoughts, and thus open our hearts, and act from the radiant love that shines through that openness. Then, all of life becomes a sanctuary for the Presence that dwells within us, as us… Offering Whatever – Parshat Terumah 2/15/2018 Exodus 25:1, 2 וַיְדַבֵּ֥ר יְהוָ֖ה אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֥ה לֵּאמֹֽר׃ The Divine spoke to Moses, saying: דַּבֵּר֙ אֶל־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל וְיִקְחוּ־לִ֖י תְּרוּמָ֑ה מֵאֵ֤ת כָּל־אִישׁ֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר יִדְּבֶ֣נּוּ לִבּ֔וֹ תִּקְח֖וּ אֶת־תְּרוּמָתִֽי׃ Tell the Israelite people to bring Me gifts; you shall accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart motivates them. Once a hassid came to the rebbe and asked, "Why is it that the rabbis praise Avraham for being willing to offer his son Yitzhak? For most people this would be a severe test, but how could it be a test for Avraham, who was a great prophet?" The rebbe answered, "When a person is tested, all their spiritual attainment is taken away from them, and they are face to face with the test. All your depth of realization is out the window, and you must gather all your strength to not be seduced by your ego..." Living in awakened life, in which every word and action overflows an offering from the heart, can seem easy when you're in the experience of blissful oneness. But these experiences become a complete reality only when you face situations that trigger you and threaten to seduce you back into an egoic state, and you manage to actually pass the test. But, no matter how many times you may "fail" your tests, don't worry! That's totally natural. If fact, if you can let your heart break in humility when you "fail" your tests, that in itself helps to break the bonds of ego. In this way, both "failing" and "passing" can aide you in becoming true sanctuary of Presence in which your whole life is an "offering." "Staying Present in Action" Parshat Terumah 3/2/2017 2 Comments This week’s Torah reading is Parshat Terumah. Terumah means an offering, or a contribution. It begins with God telling Moses to say to the children of Israel: “Yik’khu li trumah me’eit kol ish asher yidveinu libo- "Take for me an offering from every person whose heart is motivated to give…” The offerings that they’re talking about range from precious metals, to animal skins, to incense spices, to pieces of wood- all things that will be used to build the mishkan- the portable temple that the Israelites carried with them as they travelled through the wilderness. The word mishkancomes from the root which means to dwell or be present, as in the word Shekhinah which means, Divine Presence. So in the opening of this parshah, we’re hearing about all the different ways the Israelites contribute toward the Sanctuary of Presence. But if we look more deeply, this opening verse gives us three hints about how we can be more present in our own actions. The first and most important hint is in the name of the parshah- Terumah, which means, “offering.” If you want to be present in the busyness of daily life and overcome that tendency to see this moment merely as a means to get to some future moment, then let your actions be offerings. Whenever you do something, and you can do this many times a day, bring to mind that your actions are for the sake of serving something. Since most of what we do is often serving some purpose for others, this isn’t so difficult. But even when you do things for yourself like eating or resting, you can still offer it as a gift, because of course you have to keep yourself healthy in order to be of service to others. And, the more you think of your actions as offerings, you might even get inspired to change the way you do things for the better, or even take on some new positive actions, or get rid of some not so positive ones. The point here to bring more consciousness into whatever you’re doing by acting with a loving spirit. The second hint is implied in the words, kol ish- every person. In other words, every person has their own unique path. If you go around wishing you were someone else, or wishing you were in a different situation, you devalue your own path, and create an inner feeling of separation. But if you constantly take to heart that this moment is the moment to offer what only you can offer, regardless of whether it seems impressive in the external sense, then you can really inhabit your body and inhabit your actions. Furthermore, the words kol ish, every person, can also mean “all of the person.” In other words, put all of yourself into whatever you happen to be doing. And that brings us to the third hint that’s implied in the words, “…asher yidveinu libo- whose heart is motivated to give…” This means, you can learn how to be present from whatever you’re really motivated to do. Notice how it feels when you’re doing things that you love, how you’re fully engaged and doing for its own sake, and bring that degree of presence to all your actions, even when you’re doing things you don’t necessarily want to do. In that way, everything you do becomes a kind of devotion or prayer. There’s a story that the Baal Shem Tov was once smoking his pipe by the window, when he was taken aback by the sight of a man walking by, who glowed with the most beautiful holy Presence and joyful radiance. The Baal Shem asked a disciple who the man was, and his disciple told him that the man was a hose-maker. So, the Baal Shem sent the man a message to please bring four pairs of hose. Soon after, the hose maker appeared before the Baal Shem, displaying his wares, light shining from his face. The hose were well made of good sheep’s wool. The Baal Shem asked him, “How do you spend your days?” The man answered, “I ply my trade.” “And how do you ply it?” asked the Baal Shem. “I work every day until I have forty or fifty pairs of hose, then I put them into a mold with hot water and press them until they’re as they should be.” “And do you do any special prayers or meditations?” asked the Baal Shem. “I just recite the psalms that I know by heart, all day long as I work.” After the Baal Shem had purchased the hose and the man left, the Baal Shem turned to his disciple and said, “Today you have seen the cornerstone which will uphold the temple until the coming of the Messiah.” So what does the Baal Shem Tov mean when he says that this hose maker is the cornerstone of the temple until the Messiah? The temple, as we’ve seen, represents intensification of Presence. The Messiah means the end of exile, because the traditional belief is that when Moshiakh comes, all the Jews scattered throughout the world will be gathered in, and everyone will commune with the Divine in the temple once again. But on a deeper level, exile isn’t only about being separated from your native land. Exile is what happens within when you don’t fully inhabit who you are and what you’re doing in the present moment. When that happens, your consciousness pulls away from itself, creating the experience of incompleteness. And in that inner exile, nothing is all that satisfying. But when you’re gathered in, so to speak, when you connect deeply with your actions, there’s a deep satisfaction even if you’re doing things that aren’t particularly exciting. So as approach Shabbat Terumah, the Sabbath of Offering, let’s practice making all our actions offerings, gathering ourselves back into the fullness of who we are and opening to the healing and wholeness that flows from that. Good Shabbos!!! love, brian yosef The Floor- Parshat Terumah 2/14/2016 1 Comment Let’s face it- people can be annoying. Once I was in a workshop at a retreat center. I was in a room full of people, listening to the teacher speak to the class. Next to me there was this guy who happened to be standing on an area of floor that emitted a really loud squeak whenever someone stepped on it. So what did this guy do? He stood on that spot and rocked his body back and forth, making a terribly annoying and loud squeak, over and over again. He appeared to be totally unconscious of what he was doing. I was amazed that he either couldn’t hear the loud noise he was making or he just didn’t care. In that moment, as that relatively trivial annoyance provoked such a strong response within me, I appreciated the difficulty of staying present and free when disturbances are not trivial- when they’re deeply offensive or hurtful. Have you ever been enraged by someone you love? Have you ever deeply offended someone you would die for? Or have you deeply enraged your beloved? If you have, than perhaps you know the pain of separation it causes- the sour flavor that permeates life in the wake of such mis-steps. What’s the remedy? How can the sundered fabric of relationship be healed and closeness be restored? There’s a word in Hebrew for “holy” or “sacred”- kadosh. Kadosh actually means “separate,” but not in the ordinary sense. In the case of a wounded relationship, the word “separate” connotes distance, disconnectedness, alienation. But the word kadosh actually means the opposite. In a Jewish wedding ceremony we hear these words spoken between the beloveds- “At mekudeshet li- “You are holy to me…” Your partner or spouse becomes “separate” because they’re your most intimate, and therefore separate from all less intimate relationships. So, the separateness of kadosh points not to something that’s distant, but most central. It points not to alienation, but to the deepest connection. This week’s reading begins the Divine instructions for building the Mishkan- the portable temple for the wandering Israelites: “V’asu li Mikdash v’shakhanti mitokham- “Make for me a Mikdash- a Sanctuary- and I will dwell within you.” The word Mikdash has the same root as holy- kadosh. In the Torah, the Mikdash is the place that the Divine Presence manifests and communes with the Israelites. The other word for the Sanctuary, Mishkan, implies the Divine Presence- the Shekhina. And how did the Israelites commune with the sacred? Did they go into the space to just sit and meditate? No! They came into the Mikdash to offer presious gifts- first to build the sanctuary, then to make offerings. They brought things that were most precious- first their gold, silver and copper, then their fruit, their wine, grain and animals. In giving and burning what was most precious, they burned away their own inner obstacles to intimacy; they burned away the alienation caused by their own “clinging.” The word for a sacrificial offering is “korban,” which means not sacrifice, but nearness, intimacy. Where was this Mikdash erected? Was it separate from the camp, off at a distance, so that you’d have to hike out to it? No- it was in the center of the camp! And within the Mikdash was a special place considered the most holy- the Kadosh Kadoshim- the “Holy of Holies.” This most sacred space was the innermost room in the Mikdash- the center of the center. This representation of the sacred in space and architecture is not mere ritual magic from the past. It’s a pointer to the true sanctuary of Presence within your own life. There can only be one center of your life, and that center is the one place that life is actually being lived- this moment. You’re never separate from this moment, and yet- are you truly dwelling within it? “Asu li Mikdash v’shakhanti mitokham…” There’s a Divine call. It calls to us in pain and in joy, in excitement and in boredom. It says, “Come to the center. Build me a sanctuary.” How do you build it? The essence of the sanctuary is not the structure, but the space within the structure. The structure is already there as your body, your mind, your heart. They become a sanctuary the moment you allow there to be a space. The space completes the structure. Come into that space- come into your body, come into this moment. Bring your korban to the altar. Is there pain? Is there fear? Is there regret? Is there embarrassment? Bring it all. Let the fire on the altar of the present moment burn away the separation. If it hurts, let it hurt- your obstacles are being burned away- and the pain is temporary. In allowing yourself to feel whatever needs to be felt, there’s a transmutation that takes place. The energy of separation and pain burns up and becomes the energy of love. For when the illusion of separation caused by clinging is burned up, every face is a form of the Face; every being is a manifestation of Being. And when you see every person as nothing less than a Form of God, the Form of God that steps up to you in every encounter, can there be room for negativity? Can there be anything but the fire of love? And in that fire of love, will you hold back your forgiveness, or your asking forgiveness? A disciple asked Rabbi Shmelke- “We are taught- ‘Ve’ahavtah lereiakha kamokha- Love your neighbor as you love yourself.’ But how can I love my neighbor if he has wronged me?” “You must understand these words deeply,” replied Rabbi Shmelke. “You must love your neighbor as something that you yourself are, for all souls are one. Each is a spark from the original soul, and this original soul is expressed in all souls, just as your soul is expressed in all the different organs of your body. “It may happen that your right hand slips with a knife and cuts your left hand. But would you then take a knife with your left hand and start cutting your right hand to punish it? “It’s the same when your neighbor wrongs you. If you punish him, you punish yourself.” The disciple wasn’t satisfied- “But if I see someone who is truly evil, how can I love that person?” “Don’t you know,” replied Rabbi Shmelke, “that the original soul emerges from the Divine, and in fact is not separate from the Divine at all. So won’t you have mercy on the Divine when you see that one of Its sparks has become lost in a maze is being stifled by the deeds of that person who thinks he’s separate?” On this Shabbat Terumah, the Sabbath of Giving, may we guard and remember- Shamor V’Zakhor-to make every word a praise of the One, every deed an offering of love, rooted in the Sanctuary of Presence that is our own human body. Amein, Sela!
There is a classic story about a religious man who prayed mightily that he would win the lottery. All day long he would devote himself to prayer, learning, and helping others. He was very holy, but also very poor; if only he would win the lottery, he would be freed from the burdens of his poverty!
Day after day he prayed – “Please Hashem, have mercy and let me win the lottery!” But the days became months, the months became years, and still his prayers went unanswered. One day he broke down – “O Hashem! How could it be that you ignore my prayers! Every day I think of nothing but You, all day I put all my energy into serving You – why won’t you hear my prayer and let me win the lottery?” At that moment, the clouds in the sky parted and a Voice resounded from the heavens: “BUY A TICKET!!” Reality unfolds from the mysterious Source of all being. There is no separate “me” that makes things happen; even when it seems that we have some control, it is only because thoughts and impulses arise with “me” from beyond “me." The truth is, we are not in control at all, for the “me” itself is not something that we create; it arises from the same Place that all things arise from, and one day it returns there. And yet, from the perspective of this “me” who is not in control, there is a potential misunderstanding. The knowledge that we are not in control can lead to the erroneous decision to not do the very thing we can and should do; We can wind up wanting to win the lottery, but not buy the ticket. This is foolish, because obviously, we are not in any way separate from the One. It is true, the flower grows by itself; we cannot force it to grow. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t water it. There are definite actions we can take before we surrender and let things unfold. אֲדֹנָי שְׂפָתַי תִּפְתָּח וּפִי יַגִּיד תְּהִלָּתֶֽךָ: My Lord – open my lips, and my mouth will declare Your praise! This short prayer comes right before the Amidah, the most central Jewish prayer. Before we pray, we pray that we should be able to pray! This is the circle of nonduality – God prays to God’s Self through us that we should have the ability to pray. Grace and responsibility in One. There is a hint in the parshah: וְאִם־שֵׁ֥ן עַבְדּ֛וֹ אֽוֹ־שֵׁ֥ן אֲמָת֖וֹ יַפִּ֑יל לַֽחָפְשִׁ֥י יְשַׁלְּחֶ֖נּוּ תַּ֥חַת שִׁנּֽוֹ׃ If a tooth of his male slave, or a tooth of his female slave (is caused to) fall, to freedom they shall be sent out, on account of their tooth… - Shemot (Exodus) 21:27 (Parshat Mishpatim) This civil law (mishpat) comes to bring some sense of justness to the unjust practice of slavery; if the master knocks out the tooth of the slave, he must set the slave free. But let’s look more deeply at the Hebrew: The action of the שׁן Shin, the “tooth,” is to extract nourishment. Shin also represents fire in Kabbalah, which points to both transformation and watchfulness, as one uses fire to keep watch in the darkness of night. The one who watches is called a שמר shomer, a guard. Thus, on a symbolic level, the שׁן shin is the fire of awareness. The slave is called an עבד eved, which has the same root as avodah. Avodah can simply mean work, but in the language of Jewish spirituality, avodah means spiritual practice – prayer and meditation. The maidservant is called an אָמָה amah – but the form that appears here is אֲמָתוֹ amato, meaning “his maidservant.” Amato contains within it the word אמת emet, which means “Truth.” Through this uncovering of the inner dimension of the words, we might retranslate this passage thus: וְאִם־שֵׁ֥ן עַבְדּ֛וֹ אֽוֹ־שֵׁ֥ן אֲמָת֖וֹ יַפִּ֑יל לַֽחָפְשִׁ֥י יְשַׁלְּחֶ֖נּוּ תַּ֥חַת שִׁנּֽוֹ׃ If one’s practice is to cause the fire of awareness to fall into the Truth of the moment, to freedom one shall be sent out, on account of their watchfulness… Sometimes a person who devotes time and energy to spiritual practice can become frustrated. They might practice and practice, day after day, without much experience of the peace and spaciousness that is promised. The message here is, don’t give up! Your practice is like buying of the lottery ticket, or the watering of the flower – it doesn’t control the outcome, but it opens the door and invites the goal to manifest. The goal is like a flower which blossoms in its time; it is like a fruit that ripens when it is ready. It will come – don’t give up! Just do your part: Make it your practice to bring the fire of awareness down into the body, into the Truth of your experience as it is in this moment… This is the opening of the door, the Dalet of Grace which comes on its own, in its time: To freedom you shall be sent, because of your watchfulness…
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Soul on Fire – Parshat Mishpatim
2/17/2020 0 Comments A disciple of Rabbi Moshe of Kobrin awoke one morning overcome with worry, so instead of going to work, he went straight to the rebbe’s house. The rebbe was just sitting down to eat breakfast, and pronounced the brakha over his bowl of porridge: שֶׁהַכֹּל נִהְיָה בִּדְבָרוֹ – She’hakol nihyeh bidvaro – By whose Word all things exist! The rebbe did not greet him, but just went ahead and ate his breakfast, while the man waited. Finally, the rebbe said, “Zalman, I thought you were like your father, but I see you are not like him. Your father once came to me with a huge load of problems. Just as he entered, he heard me say, ‘she’hakol nihyeh bidvaro – by whose Word all things exist,’ just as you did. When I finished, I saw he was preparing to leave. “‘Abramele,’ I called to him, ‘didn’t you have something on your mind?’ “‘No,’ he said, and left. “Do you understand? When a person hears that all things exist only because of God’s Word, what more is there to talk about? This is the answer to all questions and worries.” Rabbi Moshe gave his hand to Zalman, who held it in silence for some time, then he bade his master farewell and left. The root of all angst of the soul stems from what the Torah calls the עֵץ הַדַּעַת טוֹב וָרָע eitz hada’at tov vara – the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Bad. That is, our ability to project our imagination into the future or the past and envision different possibilities. What shall we choose? What if this or that happens? What if things had gone a different way? Or, it could also be our resistance the present moment, our saying “no” to what is actually present. This ability to envision and judge is not a problem in itself; that is what allows us to be creative and to make choices. But the problem comes when our ability to judge knocks us out of alignment with the present moment, which really means that we get knocked out of alignment with ourselves. We think we are worried about something “out there,” but really, we have created a split within ourselves. שֶׁהַכֹּל נִהְיָה בִּדְבָרוֹ – She’hakol nihyeh bidvaro – By whose Word all things exist! The truth of a spiritual teaching is not in its factuality, but in its ability to cut to the core of the one single problem: non-alignment with this moment. The true teaching at once sheds light on the root of the problem and simultaneously burns away all impediments, bringing one back to unity. There is a hint in the parshah: כִּֽי־תֵצֵ֨א אֵ֜שׁ וּמָצְאָ֤ה קֹצִים֙ וְנֶאֱכַ֣ל גָּדִ֔ישׁ א֥וֹ הַקָּמָ֖ה א֣וֹ הַשָּׂדֶ֑ה שַׁלֵּ֣ם יְשַׁלֵּ֔ם הַמַּבְעִ֖ר אֶת־הַבְּעֵרָֽה׃ When a fire goes out and finds thorns, and it consumes stacked or standing (grain), or a field, the igniter of the fire shall make restitution…
Parshat Mishpatim contains mostly civil laws for a maintaining a just society; the word mishpatim means just “judgements” or “laws.” The above law addresses the scenario of one who accidentally starts of fire, and the fire destroys their neighbor’s property. But on a deeper level, the kotzim – “thorns” – are resistance to the present moment; the true teachings, the mishpatim, are like a fire that “goes out” and burns up resistance. It then consumes the “stacked” and the “standing.” The “stacked” is the way we frame reality, the way we “stack” our thoughts and words together to describe what we think is going on. The “standing” means the grain that is growing from the ground, which represents our thoughts and feelings that spontaneously arise, before we “stack” them into bundles of words and judgements. Finally, the “field” is awareness itself, within which everything else arises. The true teaching, the mishpat emet is one that will ignite all these levels and return us to our state of radiance, the inner light of consciousness in which true Wholeness is found: הַשָּׂדֶ֑ה שַׁלֵּ֣ם יְשַׁלֵּ֔ם הַמַּבְעִ֖ר אֶת־הַבְּעֵרָֽה …the field, Wholeness shall make Whole, (through) the igniter of the flame… The phrase for “making restitution” is shalem yishalem – literally, “Whole shall make Whole” – hinting at the quality of Wholeness inherent within the sadeh – the “field” of awareness itself, which becomes revealed through hamav’ir et hab’erah – the “igniter of the flame” – that is, the true teaching. This Shalem, the Wholeness of the consciousness that receives this moment as it is, is the key to returning to Shalom, peace and freedom from worry… The Center is the Vast Open – Parshat Mishpatim 1/30/2019 0 Comments There’s a story of Rabbi Yaakov Yitzhak of Peshischa, that he didn’t have the happiest of marriages. His wife would frequently grow extremely angry at him and scold him at length. Normally, he would say nothing, and simply endure her words in silence, unaffected. But one time, he snapped back at her. Taken aback, she stopped her abuse and left the room. A disciple witnessed the whole thing asked the rebbe: “Master, you always endure her anger in silence. Why did you snap back this time? Did you lose your balance and become angry?” “Not at all,” the Rebbe replied, “I could see that she was growing more and more angry that I wasn’t reacting, so I pretended to get angry to help her feel better.” There are two common images that are often used to describe the state of equanimity – of freedom from one’s own negative emotions, or reactivity. The first is the image of dwelling in the center of your being. When you are at the center, reactivity may arise – anger, fear, jealousy, anxiety, and so on, but you’re are not caught in any of that because the emotions are simply bubbling up around you, while you remain in the “eye of the hurricane” so to speak. In this image, the chaos is external, and you are the calm center that sees the chaos, unaffected by it. The second is the image of being a vast space within which the reactivity arises. In this image, the chaos is within you, but you are so much more vast and spacious than whatever feelings are bubbling up, that they are insignificant. Both of these images actually point to two different practices for realizing freedom: being present with your body, on one hand, and knowing yourself as the vast space of awareness both within and infinitely beyond your body, on the other. These two practices are actually two different stages of the same practice, hinted at in this week’s reading: The Israelites all stand together in rapt awe at Sinai, while the mountain smokes and quakes, engulfed in cloud and fire: וַיֹּ֣אמְר֔וּ כֹּ֛ל אֲשֶׁר־דִּבֶּ֥ר יְהוָ֖ה נַעֲשֶׂ֥ה וְנִשְׁמָֽע And the people said, “Everything that the Divine speaks, na’aseh v’nishmah, we will do and we will hear.” (Exodus, 24:7) The ordering of the words in this verse, na’aseh v’nishma, is strange. You would think that the words should be the opposite – first you would hear, then you would do. But the fact that the words are reversed – “we will do” and then “we will hear,” teaches a key insight: If you want the freedom of knowing the vastness of your own being as the borderless space of awareness within which experience arises (v’nishma) – you must first bring your awareness deep into your own body (na’aseh). In connecting with your body, with your heart and with your breathing, your consciousness is drawn out from its ordinary activity of incessant thinking, and into its own nature as open space. There’s another hint of this unity between the center of your being and the vastness of your being earlier in the parshah, where it discusses how an indentured servent must be set free in the seventh year: וּבַ֨שְּׁבִעִ֔ת יֵצֵ֥א לַֽחָפְשִׁ֖י חִנָּֽם And in the seventh (year), he shall go out free, without charge. וּבַ֨שְּׁבִעִ֔ת – And in the seventh: In the image of the Star of David, the six rays of the star represent the six directions in space and the six days of the week, while seven is represented by the center of the star. This is Shabbat – the “eye of the hurricane” in time. Seven, then, is the inner sanctum, the holy center – the drawing of awareness into the temple of the body. יֵצֵ֥א לַֽחָפְשִׁ֖י – he shall go out free: And yet, through connecting with the center, yeitzei – there is a “going out” to freedom. This is the realization that the awareness that dwells within your body is not confined to your body. Rather, it is a vast field that knows everything you perceive; the air around you as well as the stars in the sky are all equally arising within the vast field that you are. חִנָּֽם – gratis, free of charge, an act of grace – this freedom is not something you have to work for or somehow create; it’s what you already are. Pay close attention to your actual experience in this moment and see – you are the freedom of awareness, right now... Cutting Through to the Essential Core – Parshat Mishpatim 2/8/2018 Exodus 23:6 כִּ֣י תִפְגַּ֞ע שׁ֧וֹר אֹֽיִבְךָ֛ א֥וֹ חֲמֹר֖וֹ תֹּעֶ֑ה הָשֵׁ֥ב תְּשִׁיבֶ֖נּוּ לֽוֹ׃ When you encounter your enemy’s ox or donkey wandering, you must take it back to him. כִּֽי־תִרְאֶ֞ה חֲמ֣וֹר שֹׂנַאֲךָ֗ רֹבֵץ֙ תַּ֣חַת מַשָּׂא֔וֹ וְחָדַלְתָּ֖ מֵעֲזֹ֣ב ל֑וֹ עָזֹ֥ב תַּעֲזֹ֖ב עִמּֽוֹ׃ When you see the donkey of your enemy lying under its burden and would refrain from raising it, you must nevertheless raise it with him. לֹ֥א תַטֶּ֛ה מִשְׁפַּ֥ט אֶבְיֹנְךָ֖ בְּרִיבֽוֹ׃ You shall not subvert the rights of your needy in their disputes... It is told about Reb Mordechai of Neskhizh that before he became known as a rebbe, he was a businessman. All year long he would put aside some money from his daily earnings so that he would be able to purchase the finest etrog for the holiday of Sukkot. (An etrog is a citron fruit used in a special Sukkot ritual). One year, as Sukkot approached, he traveled to the city with all his savings to find the finest etrog. On the way, he encountered a distraught water seller whose horse had collapsed on the road, and the water seller stood in confusion and despair. Reb Mordechai immediately stopped and gave all his money to the him so that he might buy a new horse. "What does it matter?" Reb Mordechai said to himself, "While everyone else says their blessing on an etrog, I'll say mine on this horse!" There is a great richness to tradition and ritual, but the danger of such richness and complexity is that we can become lost in their agendas and lose touch with essential simplicity of true spirituality: transcendence of ego, knowing the Oneness and expressing this realization in kindness toward all beings we encounter. Hassidic tales such as these cut through the sometimes dense forrest of religion to the core of the spirit... Before- Parshat Mishpatim 2/23/2017 0 Comments “V’eleh hamishpatim asher tasim lifneihem- "And these are the judgments you will place before them.” In order to understand the distinction between your thinking mind and your awareness, it’s helpful to notice that while your thinking mind can’t function without your awareness in the background, your awareness isn’t at all dependent on the movement of your mind. A nice metaphor for understanding this distinction is the ocean and the waves. The waves are completely dependent on the ocean, because the waves are nothing but the surface movement of the ocean. No more ocean, no more waves. But if the waves cease to be, the vast ocean with its great depths remain. In the same way, your awareness is actually the vast ocean of consciousness within which the waves of your thoughts rise and fall. Now if you’re living mostly on the level of the waves, that’s the ego- the “me” with its problems, concerns, successes and failures. Of course that’s part of who you are on the surface of your consciousness, but the question is, is that where you want to live? Or, do you want to live in the vast depths of your consciousness, in the fullness of who you are, beneath those little waves of your mind-based identity. This week’s Torah reading is Parshat Mishpatim. Mishpatim means, judgments. It begins with God saying to Moses: “V’eleh hamishpatim asher tasim lifneihem- And these are the judgments you will place before them.” It then goes on to talk about various various civil laws that Moses is to teach the Israelites. But in the first sentence there’s a special hint about how to connect with the vast ocean of consciousness that you are, rather than be trapped by the waves on the surface. It says that the mishpatim, the judgments, should be lifneihem- before them. In other words, don’t get unconsciously absorbed into the judgements of your mind, but rather see your judgments as if they’re “before” you. That means, don’t try to stop your judgments or get rid of them, simply notice them and let them be. The more your practice noticing your judgments, without judging your judgments, the more you’ll begin to feel yourself as the noticing, rather than the judging. And that simple noticing is the vast ocean of consciousness beneath the waves of thinking. But in order to really keep your judgments lifanekha, before you, so that you don’t get trapped by them, you have to be willing to stay with the truth of whatever you’re perceiving, without imposing your own interpretation. The Hassidic rebbe, the Seer of Lublin once said, “I prefer sinners who know that they are sinners, rather than righteous people who know they are righteous people.” Now why would he say that? Because if you know that you’re a sinner, you’re probably seeing yourself truthfully- after all, most of us make at least a few mistakes once in a while. But if you see yourself as perfectly righteous, you’re probably interpreting things in a skewed way to satisfy a certain self-image. And self-image, otherwise known as ego, is on the level of the waves. Of course nowadays, there can be just as much ego in putting yourself down as in puffing yourself up, but the point is to let go of self-image, let go of needing things to be a certain way, and stay with your actual experience, because the part of you that knows your actual experience is that inner vast ocean of consciousness. So in this week of Shabbat Mishpatim, the Sabbath of Judgment, let’s practice seeing whatever judgments arise in the mind, allowing them to come and go in the space of this moment, through the practice of Presence and meditation. Good Shabbiissss! love brian yosef The Girlfriends- Parshat Mishpatim 2/3/2016 2 Comments If you awaken to spiritual freedom, does that mean that you’ll remain free all the time? Is spiritual freedom a permanent state? This question reminds me of before I was married, when I had different girlfriends. On one hand, they were committed relationships. On the other hand, we always had the choice to spend time together or not. At the end of the day, I was always free to go home to my own house if I wanted to. So, although there was a kind of commitment, it was nothing like being married. Does that mean “marriage” is a permanent state in which the relationship is constant and perfect? Of course not! Like all living things, it’s in motion. It needs attention and nurturance. And yet, there is something that changes completely when two people commit to having one life together, to be one family. Spiritual awakening is just like that. At first, you may have a spiritual experience. That experience tells you something about reality; it changes your whole outlook. However, like all experiences, it’s temporary. When it fades and another experience happens, you might forget all about what you’ve learned. You’re not having the spiritual experience anymore, so you don’t have access to its truth. You may long for that experience, you may seek it out in different ways, you may even find it. You may find it in sports, in music, in dance, whatever. But ultimately, it’s a place you visit, not the place you live. It is your girl/boyfriend, not your life partner. This week’s reading, Parshat Mishpatim, begins with laws regarding a male Hebrew indentured servant. It says that he can work for six years but must be set free in the seventh year (Ex. 21:2): “Sheish shamim ya’avod- “Six years he shall work…” The word for indentured servant is the same as the word for slave- eved. The master of the slave is called an adon- “lord”. But these two words, eved and adon, also have a completely different connotation: God is sometimes called Adon, and a holy person is called an Eved Hashem- a Servant of God. Seen metaphorically, then, the Hebrew eved that goes free is like someone who has a spiritual experience, but when the experience is over, s/he goes free from it. It’s only temporary. But then the text says that if the eved doesn’t want to go free, he is brought to a doorpost, declares that he loves his adon and his new wife and children and that he wants remain an eved. His ear is then pierced against the doorpost and becomes a slave forever (Ex. 21:6): “Va’avado l’olam- “And he shall serve him forever…” Metaphorically, this is one who becomes an Eved Hashem- a Servant of the Divine. It’s getting “married” to God. But if spiritual awakening is about freedom, what does that have to do with being a servant or a spouse? Why the contradictory metaphors? Rashi points out another contradiction in the text that will shed light on this first contradiction: In the above verse, it says: “He shall serve him forever.” But this contradicts another verse, which states that all Hebrew slaves are set free on the Jubilee Year, the last year in a fifty-year cycle, no matter what (Lev. 25:10): “V’ish el mishpakhto t’shuvo- “And you shall return each person to his family…” To resolve this contradiction, he says that the word olam- “forever” or “eternal”- is actually another word for the Jubilee Year, because after the Jubilee Year, the status of everything completely changes. The original state of reality is gone, so everything up to the Jubilee Year, the year of freedom, is called “forever.” So, being a “slave forever” gets you to “freedom!” Meaning- the point of committing yourself to a life of spiritual practice is to shift out of the time-bound, thought-created sense of self, into connection with That which is Eternal- the present moment, always existing as the space of your own awareness, beyond thought. How does that work? Back to our text- When it says the slave is taken to the doorpost, the word for doorpost is mezuzah- the same as the ritual scroll traditionally fastened to the doorposts of Jewish homes. And what is the first word of the text written on the mezuzah? “Sh’ma”- “Hear”! Hearing, unlike seeing and tasting, is the sense that we can't shut down; our ears are always open. We can't shut our ears to escape the sounds around us. Similarly, we can't escape Reality. There's nothing but Reality, everywhere! And yet, we create this inner resistance to Reality, and that resistance is the basis of ego- that contracted sense of self which imprisons the spirit. To relax that resistance means to return to openness- to be an open ear, wholly with what is. That’s the point- and the mechanism- of spiritual practice: to leave your identification with your inner resistance (ego) and awaken into your true and free nature as awareness, by "hearing" the truth of the present moment. At some point, when you’re ready, it’s time to “get married”- to let go of your attachment to mind created reality and commit to Actual Reality. Then, this moment becomes your Lord, your Master, your God. Reality becomes your “family”- your home base- the place you live, not the place you merely visit. Does that mean then the relationship is perfect? Of course not! There’s risk- failure is possible. But you’ve stepped into commitment with Beloved. And, just as relationships sometimes need coaches and therapists, so too the spiritual life is helped by spiritual teachers: Reb Yaakov Yitzhak, the Seer of Lublin, once said to his disciple, Reb Zvi of Zhidochov: “So long as I am alive, I’m not afraid that you’ll slip from your commitment to the Divine. But afterwards- who knows?” Said Reb Zvi: “I don’t want to live longer than you, rebbe.” “How can you say such a thing?” protested the Seer. “You are still a young man, and I am old!” “Rebbe,” replied Reb Zvi, “I will pray that you live forever.” “But does mortal man live forever?” asked the Seer. “I meant, rebbe, that you should live one hundred and twenty years, as Moshe Rabeinu (Moses Our Teacher) did,” explained Reb Zvi. “Come now, Reb Zvi,” said the Seer, “Just a moment ago you said ‘forever,’ and now you’re saying ‘one hundred and twenty years.’ A hundred and twenty years is not forever.” Replied Reb Zvi: “I came across the idea in some book I read that Moshe Rabeinu lived one hundred twenty years, corresponding to the number of Jubilee Years within our present six thousand year cycle. For in the Talmud it is written- ‘Shita alfei shanei havah alma- ‘Six thousand years the world will be…’ “And, in six thousand years, there are a hundred and twenty Jubilee Years. “In the Torah, furthermore, the Jubilee is sometimes called olam- meaning, ‘forever,’ as in the passage where the Hebrew slave pierces his ear- ‘Va’avado l’olam- “And he shall serve him forever…’ Meaning, the slave serves until the Jubilee year, which is called ‘forever.’ “The point is, I will pray that your hundred and twenty years on this earth should inspire me commit forever. Like that Hebrew slave, I should make the Eternal Beloved my Lord and my family…” “And in what book did you see that idea?” the Seer asked. “Well, actually,” replied Reb Zvi, “It could have been mine…” On this Shabbat Mishpatim, the Sabbath of Judgments, may we open to the one judgment now before us: Commit. Hear. Awaken. May we too write the “books” of our lives, each pointing toward this awakening, and may we support each other on our unique paths. And, may every personal transformation lead us speedily toward the evolution of humanity, to a time of true peace and mutuality. Good Shabbos! -b yosef
טוֹב עָשִׂיתָ עִֽם־עַבְדְּךָ You have done goodness with Your servant… - Psalm 119:65 The Hasidic rebbe, Rabbi Yehiel Mikhel of Zlotchov, pointed out a question that arises from this verse: why does it say עִֽם־עַבְדְּךָ im avd’kha, “with your servant?” Shouldn’t it say, “You have done goodness to your servant?” He answers that whatever good we do, we tend to be identified with the act; we tend to feel, “I am the doer.” But the hint in the verse is that God acts along with us. We are not isolated individuals making decisions, but rather whatever good we do, flows from the Source of all being; it flows through us as Grace. This teaching comes in contrast to an equally important yet opposite principle, that we must take responsibility for doing what we must do; no one can do it for us. This principle of taking responsibility is connected to the thirteenth path, the letter ג gimel, while the recognition that it is not “me” who acts, but rather it is the Divine acting through us, is connected to the fourteenth path, the letter ד dalet. וְעַתָּ֣ה לְכָ֔ה וְאֶֽשְׁלָחֲךָ֖ אֶל־פַּרְעֹ֑ה וְהוֹצֵ֛א אֶת־עַמִּ֥י בְנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל מִמִּצְרָֽיִם׃ “And now, go – I send you to Pharaoh, and you shall free My people, the Children of Israel, from Egypt.” וַיֹּ֤אמֶר מֹשֶׁה֙ אֶל־הָ֣אֱלֹהִ֔ים מִ֣י אָנֹ֔כִי כִּ֥י אֵלֵ֖ךְ אֶל־פַּרְעֹ֑ה וְכִ֥י אוֹצִ֛יא אֶת־בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל מִמִּצְרָֽיִם׃ But Moses said to Elohim, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and free the Children of Israel from Egypt?”
In the episode with Moses at the Burning Bush, Moses resists his mission – “Why me? Send someone else!” This is the common frustration we often feel – something is wrong, something needs addressing, and we wish someone else would do something about it. But, the problem beckons a response from us – it is we who must act. These are the times to access our inner gimel, that quality of greatness (gadol) inherent in our consciousness which can see and respond and bring about transformation. But contrast this with the passage in our parshah where Moses’ father-in-law, Jethro (Yitro), witnesses Moses taking too much responsibility: וַיַּרְא֙ חֹתֵ֣ן מֹשֶׁ֔ה אֵ֛ת כָּל־אֲשֶׁר־ה֥וּא עֹשֶׂ֖ה לָעָ֑ם וַיֹּ֗אמֶר מָֽה־הַדָּבָ֤ר הַזֶּה֙ אֲשֶׁ֨ר אַתָּ֤ה עֹשֶׂה֙ לָעָ֔ם מַדּ֗וּעַ אַתָּ֤ה יוֹשֵׁב֙ לְבַדֶּ֔ךָ וְכָל־הָעָ֛ם נִצָּ֥ב עָלֶ֖יךָ מִן־בֹּ֥קֶר עַד־עָֽרֶב׃ But when Moses’ father-in-law saw how much he had to do for the people, he said, “What is this thing that you are doing to the people? Why do you act alone, while all the people stand about you from morning until evening?” וַיֹּ֥אמֶר מֹשֶׁ֖ה לְחֹתְנ֑וֹ כִּֽי־יָבֹ֥א אֵלַ֛י הָעָ֖ם לִדְרֹ֥שׁ אֱלֹהִֽים׃ Moses replied to his father-in-law, “It is because the people come to me to inquire of God.” כִּֽי־יִהְיֶ֨ה לָהֶ֤ם דָּבָר֙ בָּ֣א אֵלַ֔י וְשָׁ֣פַטְתִּ֔י בֵּ֥ין אִ֖ישׁ וּבֵ֣ין רֵעֵ֑הוּ וְהוֹדַעְתִּ֛י אֶת־חֻקֵּ֥י הָאֱלֹהִ֖ים וְאֶת־תּוֹרֹתָֽיו׃ “When they have a dispute, it comes before me, and I decide between one person and another, and I make known the laws and teachings of God.” וַיֹּ֛אמֶר חֹתֵ֥ן מֹשֶׁ֖ה אֵלָ֑יו לֹא־טוֹב֙ הַדָּבָ֔ר אֲשֶׁ֥ר אַתָּ֖ה עֹשֶֽׂה׃ But Moses’ father-in-law said to him, “The thing you are doing is not good!” נָבֹ֣ל תִּבֹּ֔ל גַּם־אַתָּ֕ה גַּם־הָעָ֥ם הַזֶּ֖ה אֲשֶׁ֣ר עִמָּ֑ךְ כִּֽי־כָבֵ֤ד מִמְּךָ֙ הַדָּבָ֔ר לֹא־תוּכַ֥ל עֲשֹׂ֖הוּ לְבַדֶּֽךָ׃ “You will surely wear yourself out, and these people as well. For the task is too heavy for you; you cannot do it alone!”
Jethro then advises Moses to set up leaders in a hierarchy of numbers of people – leaders of thousands, leaders of hundreds, of fifties, and tens. When the leaders of thousands can’t figure out a solution to the problems brought to them, they will turn them over to the leaders of hundreds. When those leaders can’t figure it out, they would come to the leaders of fifties, and so on. That way, only the most difficult problems will come before Moses, and the community will be able to function. The second thing Jethro advises is that Moses should deliver teachings and principles to the people, so the other leaders have something to guide them. Amazingly, it seems that the whole Torah system of mitzvot are the result of Jethro’s advice! Jethro’s words are an expression of dalet – it is good to take responsibility, but only to a point; then we must let go and let the rest of Reality participate; we must make room for Grace to manifest. הוּא הָיָה אוֹמֵר, לֹא עָלֶיךָ הַמְּלָאכָה לִגְמֹר, וְלֹא אַתָּה בֶן חוֹרִין לִבָּטֵל מִמֶּנָּה.: He used to say: It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you free to withdraw from it…
There is a mitzvah that embodies this principle: לֹא־תִרְאֶה֩ אֶת־חֲמ֨וֹר אָחִ֜יךָ א֤וֹ שׁוֹרוֹ֙ נֹפְלִ֣ים בַּדֶּ֔רֶךְ וְהִתְעַלַּמְתָּ֖ מֵהֶ֑ם הָקֵ֥ם תָּקִ֖ים עִמּֽוֹ׃) If you see your fellow’s donkey or ox fallen on the road, do not ignore it; you must raise it with him.
On the surface, this mitzvah seems to be one of simple kindness, of helping someone in need. But the Talmud clarifies: הלך וישב לו ואמר הואיל ועליך מצוה אם רצונך לפרוק פרוק פטור שנאמר עמו אם היה זקן או חולה חייב If the owner walked away, sat down, and said to you: “Since there is a mitzvah incumbent upon you to help, if it is your wish to unload the animal’s burden, unload!” In such a case, you are exempt, as it is stated: “You shall raise it with him,” that is, with the owner of the animal; if he refuses to participate, you need not help him!
In other words, there is a limit to how much responsibility we must take; there are times to help a person with their burden, while still letting the burden belong to them. In the spiritual sense, this principle applies also to our relationship with our practice in seeking to realize the Divine: it is our burden and responsibility to set aside the time and bring ourselves to the learning and the practice. But, the fruit of the practice comes on its own, as a form of Grace. The “fruit” of the practice is “God’s burden” so to speak; we can water a tree, but we do not cause it to grow. And, in truth, even our ability to take responsibility for our side of the equation is itself coming to us from Grace; at this point, the ordinary sense of “me” and “other” dissolves, and there is the recognition: there is only God, manifesting in all forms, in all beings. טוֹב עָשִׂיתָ עִֽם־עַבְדְּךָ – Tov asita im avd’kha – You have done good with Your servant…
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Freedom from Time – Parshat Yitro
2/10/2020 0 Comments It is said that Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Rymonov used to complain: “As long as there were no roads, you would have to pause your journey at nightfall. Then you could relax at the inn and have all the time in the world to recite Psalms, open a book, have a nice conversation with someone. But now that there are roads, you can just ride on day and night, and there is no peace anymore!” Rabbi Mendel lived in the 18th and early 19th centuries. Oh, I don’t think he would have liked how things have developed since then! But there is one great remedy for the never ending flow of busyness, and that is Shabbos. For one who keeps Shabbos, the world stops; not because there is any change “out there” but because there is a complete shift “in here” – for one who keeps Shabbos, ordinary involvement with the world comes to a full pause. The imagery in Kabbalah is that of intimate union within the Divine... וַיְדַבֵּ֣ר אֱלֹהִ֔ים אֵ֛ת כָּל־הַדְּבָרִ֥ים הָאֵ֖לֶּה לֵאמֹֽר׃ אָֽנֹכִ֖י֙ יְהוָ֣ה אֱלֹהֶ֑֔יךָ אֲשֶׁ֧ר הוֹצֵאתִ֛יךָ מֵאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרַ֖יִם מִבֵּ֣֥ית עֲבָדִֽ֑ים׃ The Divine spoke all these words, saying: I am Existence, your own Divinity, that brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage. The Divine is everything, but during the ordinary flow of time on weekdays, the constricting illusion of separation is generated by goal-oriented traveling in the highways of time. Then Shabbat comes – the sun sets, candles are lit, Psalms are sung, a book is read, but most importantly: the faint glow of Presence in all things becomes a bit brighter. We are brought out of the bondage of time, out of the busyness of Mitzrayim. זָכ֛וֹר֩ אֶת־י֥֨וֹם הַשַּׁבָּ֖֜ת לְקַדְּשֽׁ֗וֹ Remember the day of Shabbat, to sanctify it… That glow is consciousness itself, and the consciousness in each recognizes itself in the other; the Godliness in me holds hands with the Godliness in you. This is לְשֵׁם יִחוּד קוּדְשָׁא בְּרִיךְ הוּא וּשְׁכִינְתֵּהּ – for the sake of unification of the Holy Blessed One with Shekhinah, the Divine Presence that is ever-present. Shabbat is the fourth of the עֲשֶׂרֶת הַדִּבְּרוֹת the Ten Commandments. One way of understanding the Ten Commandments is by mapping them onto the ten sefirot of the Tree of Life. In this way, Shabbat gets associated with the fourth sefirah, Hesed – Loving-Kindness – hinting both at the love of all creation ignited by one who enters the sanctuary of Shabbos, as well as the realization that Shabbat itself is a gift, a supreme expression of loving-kindness toward us. However, in Kabbalah, Shabbat is often associated with the tenth sefirah, Malkhut, because Malkhut represents Shekhinah, the imminent and indwelling feminine Divine Presence that comes into union with Kudsha Brikh Hu, the transcendent and masculine Divinity. לְכָה דודִי לִקְרַאת כַּלָּה. פְּנֵי שבָּת נְקַבְּלָה Go my beloved to greet the Bride; receive the Presence of Shabbat! The tenth commandment reads: לֹ֥א תַחְמֹ֖ד בֵּ֣ית רֵעֶ֑ךָ ... וְכֹ֖ל אֲשֶׁ֥ר לְרֵעֶֽךָ׃ You shall not covet your neighbor’s house… or anything that is your neighbor’s. One of the weekday activities that is most difficult for people to put aside on Shabbat tends to be not the traveling on the physical highway, but the digital highway of information. Beyond the crucial literal meaning of this mitzvah not to covet, there is also this inner meaning: let your mind release the image of your neighbor’s house, your neighbor’s business, and come fully into your own house, the “house” of this moment, the Eternal Present; let Her come and unite through your own becoming present; She is waiting for you... Unlock Your Potential – Parshat Yitro 1/24/2019 0 Comments Years ago, I used to teach piano for a living, mostly to children. When they would make a mistake, most of them would just say “oops” and try again – no big deal. But there were always a few who wouldn’t be able to accept their own mistakes. They would become frustrated and cry and scream out: “I’ll never be able to do it!” Of course I knew they could do it, if only they would relax and try again. I would ask them to please trust me – “Just you wait and see, you will be able to do it. Just try again a little more slowly.” When you practice something, whether it’s playing piano or being present, you will inevitably get better and better at it. There’s no guarantee you’ll become as great as so-and-so, but you will get better – that’s just the way it works. And so, if your mind interferes by telling you that you’re not getting better fast enough, or even worse it tells you that you’ll never be able to do it, don’t get dragged into that drama. Know that you can and you will – you just need to stick with it. Why? וַיְדַבֵּ֣ר אֱלֹהִ֔ים אֵ֛ת כָּל־הַדְּבָרִ֥ים הָאֵ֖לֶּה לֵאמֹֽר׃ אָֽנֹכִ֖י֙ יְהוָ֣ה אֱלֹהֶ֑֔יךָ אֲשֶׁ֧ר הוֹצֵאתִ֛יךָ מֵאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרַ֖יִם מִבֵּ֣֥ית עֲבָדִֽ֑ים׃ לֹֽ֣א יִהְיֶֽה־לְךָ֛֩ אֱלֹהִ֥֨ים אֲחֵרִ֖֜ים עַל־פָּנָֽ֗יַ The Divine spoke all these words, saying: I am Existence, your own Divinity, that brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage. This famous introduction to the “Ten Commandments” hint at a deeper truth: I am Existence, your own Divinity – your deepest “I” is not something separate from all Existence; it is your own inner Divinity. Meaning: the dimension of the sacred – which we might call freedom, presence, or oneness – is already who you are at the deepest level. Beneath and beyond your thoughts, beneath and beyond your feelings, beneath and beyond your sensory experience – you are freedom. It may take time for you to know this fully in your experience, but it takes no time at all to be begin practicing – you can always do it now. How? לֹֽ֣א יִהְיֶֽה־לְךָ֛֩ אֱלֹהִ֥֨ים אֲחֵרִ֖֜ים עַל־פָּנָֽ֗י There shall not be for you other gods before Me. In order to function, we need our minds to form a mental map of the world so that we can navigate through life. As long as we understand the difference between the map and the territory, thought can be our most useful tool. But when we mistake our thoughts about reality for actual Reality, that’s idolatry on the deepest level. We take our own beliefs to be true, and thereby close ourselves off from intimacy with actual Reality: “I’ll never be able to do it!” Instead, be open – don’t put reality into a mental box. Don’t insist; don’t impose. Let go of your stream of thinking and let awareness flow into your body, opening to the full potential of what could be. We don’t really know anything – except that we are conscious, right now. Then you will know on the deepest level – Anokhi Hashem – your “I” – the deepest level of who you are – is not something other than the Divine you seek… Four Dimensions of Presence with Others – Parshat Yitro 1/31/2018 5 Comments This parsha begins with Moses’ father-in-law, Jethro, coming out to meet Moses and the Israelites in the wilderness. When Moses goes out to greet him, the Torah hints at four dimensions of being present with other people (Exodus 18:7):
“What is the “shalom” – the eternal dimension – of this person standing before me?" In becoming aware of the eternal dimension of Being in another person, you also bring forth your own eternal dimension, and Being beholds Being… One of These Things is Not Like the Others- Parshat Yitro 1/27/2016 0 Comments For some, spirituality is all about generosity and kindness. For some, it’s about creativity. For others, it’s going out into nature. Or going in, deep within yourself… But while there are many different spiritual entry points for many different personality types, there’s one Thing to which all these qualities point, that's fundamentally different from the others. In this week’s episode, Moses’ father-in-law Jethro (Yitro) goes out to meet Moses in the wilderness and give him some crucial advice. But first, Moses tells Jethro the whole story of how they escaped from Egypt, to which Jethro replies (Ex. 18:11): “Atah yadati ki gadol Hashem mikol ha’elohim…” This is usually translated: “Now I know that Hashem is greater than all the gods…” The word for “gods” is “elohim”- a very interesting word, because not only does elohim mean “gods,” it's also a Name of God Itself. In fact, it’s the Name used in the beginning of the Torah when God creates the universe: “Bereisheet bara Elohim et hashamayim v’et ha’aretz- “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth…” So Elohim the Creator is the source of all the diversity in the universe. This plurality is hinted at by the Name itself, because Elohim is a plural word, which is why it can also mean “gods.” In this sense, then, Elohim would mean “God of Plurality.” But what does Hashem mean? Hashem is the four letter unpronounceable Name YHVH that means “Existence” or “Being.” So understood this way, it’s saying that Existence is the greatest Divine quality: “God (Hashem- Beingness) is greater than God (Elohim- plurality of qualities)” There are many Divine qualities- kindness, creativity, inwardness, connection with nature, and so on. But of all of them, the simple quality of Being is the greatest. The nice thing about that is you don’t have to achieve Being. Everything is already just Being. All of the many qualities (or middot) are important for shaping your life as an expression of Being.That’s the ongoing project of spiritual work on yourself and on the world. But the project of just Being is a cessation from work. It’s an allowing of everything to be exactly as it is- and that’s the weekly project of Shabbat (Ex. 20:9): “Sheishet yamim ta’avod v’asita kol m’lakhtekha- “Six days you shall labor and do all your work…” Working to cultivate the Divine qualities, to create and maintain better forms and structures, is crucial. It’s the majority of what we’re here to do. But the center of life is Shabbat- the center is Being- “V’yom hashvi’i Shabbat Ladonai Elohekha- “And the seventh day is a Shabbat for the Divine…” But if Being is the greatest quality, how do we come to experience and know this for ourselves? The answer is in Jethro’s words- “Atah yadati- NOW I KNOW (that God-Hashem- Beingness is greater than God-Elohim- plurality of qualities…)” To truly “know” the Greatest Quality, you have to connect with the “Now.” In fact, the word for "know" is da'at, which also means intimacy. So it's not just an intellectual knowing, but a knowing through intimate connection. This moment has a texture, a flavor, an aliveness, if you would but take a "Shabbat" to taste It, to feel It, to dive into It. Underneath all the doing, the cultivating, the creating, is the Divinity of this moment, always available, yet easily obscured. Going back to the story- what was Jethro’s advice to Moses? Precisely this- take a Shabbat! Jethro saw that Moses would “burn out” as a leader if he didn’t delegate some of his duties and take some rest. So on this Shabbat Yitro, the Sabbath of Advice, may we too take Jethro’s advice, to balance our doing with Being and taste the Greatness of Existence. May the shining Wholeness of Being reshape all our doing as well, bringing this world swiftly to realize peace, healing and sustenance for all. Good Shabblisss! b yosef Lost and Found- Parshat Yitro 2/5/2015 7 Comments When I was young, I loved Spiderman. I also loved to dress up. But I didn’t want to dress up as Spiderman, which would be unoriginal, so I invented a new superhero: “Inchiderman”. “Inchiderman” combined the powers of a spider with the powers of an inchworm. I don’t know why I thought the powers of an inchworm would be helpful, but he was my superhero. I put together the costume with a pair of tights, a red and blue winter coat and a paper mask I had made. I also constructed a web shooter from a syringe, which I filled with a combination of Crazy Glue, Elmer’s Glue and honey. Back in those days I lived with my family on three acres of mostly woods in Pomona, New York. One day I went out into the woods dressed as Inchiderman with my dog Ophelia. I hiked out to the end of the woods, beyond which were apple orchards. I ventured into the orchards for a while and then came back to the woods. But, I couldn’t find the path that led back to my house. I wandered around for a while and eventually realized that I was lost. I started to panic and cry. I ran this way and that, crying and yelling, “Help!” Ophelia, however, was happy. She jumped around and played while I freaked out. She wasn’t lost. I got mad and yelled at her- “Ophelia, take us home!” but she just jumped and played. Eventually I stopped panicking. I was still scared and sad, but I stopped crying and running. Ophelia stopped too. She just looked at me, waiting to see what would happen next, but there was nothing next. I was just lost. Something within me had shifted. I can remember feeling the presence of the forest, the smell of the crisp air, the sound of the wind in the trees. My Inchiderman fantasy was gone, and I was just present with the forest and with Ophelia. Scared and sad, but present. Then, out of nowhere, a man appeared and showed me the way to a path that led to the back of the swimming pond down the street from my house. Ophelia and I took the path and found the road. I carried my ripped Inchiderman mask and syringe web shooter back home. In this week’s Torah reading, Parshat Yitro, the Israelites too were in the wilderness. They too had been panicking, complaining and crying to go back to Egypt. In this parsha they come to the foot of Mt. Sinai and prepare themselves to receive the Torah. The mountain quakes with fire and thunder. There is a sound of a blasting ram’s horn that begins quietly, then gets louder and louder. The people are terrified and tremble. And then, from the midst of the cloud and fire, a Voice begins to speak the sayings that became known as the “Ten Commandments”- “Anokhi Hashem Elohekha asher hotzeitikha etkhem me’eretz Mitrayim, mibeit avadim- I am Hashem your G-d who brought you out from the land of Egypt, from the house of bondage…” What exactly is this first “commandment”? According to Maimonides (b. 1135- d.1204 CE) in his work Sefer HaMitzvot, the first commandment is just to believe in G-d, to acknowledge that G-d freed our ancestors from slavery. But there is a message here that is not merely about the past or about belief, but rather it directly applies to this moment within which we now find ourselves: “Anokhi Hashem” means that the “Anokhi,” the “I”, is actually “Hashem”- Divine. Meaning, the inner identity of everything is the ultimate, living Presence of Existence; that’s what the Divine Name actually means. The Israelites are shaken by the terrible awesomeness of the natural world around them, and in that heightened state, the inner identity of nature reveals Itself. It’s not about believing in the idea of a divine entity. It’s not about adding another concept to the mind’s ideas about reality. It’s about recognizing Existence Itself- recognizing That which the mind cannot map. The next thing the Voice says is that It “brought you out from the land of Egypt.” Why is liberation particularly connected to the self-revelation of Divinity? The mind is a mapping device. It is a navigation unit, constantly creating an inner context through which we know who and where we are and what we are doing. Very useful! But this creates the side effect of seeing reality through the screen of that map. The mind sees the surface of things- a collection of related but separate parts, and the mind also feels itself to be separate from what it sees. But there comes a time when the inner map breaks down, and we are lost. Somehow we lose the continuity of the mind-created context and the familiar disappears. We step out of the Mitzrayim of the known, of the conditioned mental patterns of separateness. This "wilderness" can be terrifying. And yet, in the unknown there is the possibility of connecting with Reality in a very direct way, a way that knows Being as a Whole, as a Oneness. This knowing is itself liberation- liberation from the burden of time and conditioned identity. When the Israelites receive this revelation, the text says “v’khol ha’am ro’im et hakolot- all the people saw the sounds.” Not heard the sounds, but saw! In other words, they perceived everything in a completely new way. It is a kind of awakening. I think that’s what happened to me that day in the woods when I got lost. After the initial terror and panic, after the “thunder and fire”, there was this stillness, this recognition. There was a new kind of seeing. And then, miraculously, the salvation that appeared. The other night, my son and I were watching the new version of Cosmos with the physicist Neil deGrasse Tyson. Tyson began by defining our “cosmic address.” First, he showed us, we are on planet Earth. Then, the perspective pulls back to reveal our Solar System. Then, it pulled out even more to the Milky Way Galaxy. Then even further to see the family of galaxies that the Milky Way is part of, called the Local Group. Then, even further, the Local Group was part of a larger cluster of galaxy families, called the Virgo Supercluster. Then it pulled out even further to view the many clusters that make up the Observable Universe. But what comes after that? We had come to limits of our map, beyond which was simply mystery. He then hypothesized that our whole universe is merely a single bubble in an infinite ocean of bubbles, each one a complete universe. Now, where would that ocean be exactly? The imagination reaches out toward infinity and comes to stillness. Ultimately, we don’t and can’t know where or what or even why any of this is. And yet we do know- Hinei! Here it is! Try it yourself- Stretch your imagination out into the universe until you reach its boundaries. You may find that, in the sensation of trying to imagine the unimaginable, there is an emptying of the mind and a simple, blooming awareness of whatever is around you and within you now, in this moment. When that begins to happen, just let it. Give up trying to "grasp" anything. Simply relax your sense of what is going on, of where you are, of who you are, of what you are doing. Don’t push it away, just let it go. Open yourself to this moment as it is unfolding, the way you would toward an intimate friend. Lose your self, find the One. Let the Anokhi- the inner Presence of Existence- take you into the freedom of this eternal present. And in the Light of that lightness, of that benevolent Presence that is also your own inner identity, may all of our words and actions shine for healing, love and peace. Amein.
A disciple came to Rabbi Yisrael of Rizhyn and said, “Whenever I listen to you teach, a state of deveikus comes over me: A warm light permeates my whole being and I feel connected to the Divine Presence in all things. But when I go back to ordinary activities, all kinds of thoughts come into my mind and I feel disconnected once again. How can I clear my mind and tune in to the light?”
The Rabbi of Rizhyn answered: “This is like a person who stumbles through the forest in the darkness. Then someone comes along with a lamp, and as they walk together, they are able to see the path. But, when the one with the lamp leaves, again the person is plunged into darkness and can’t tell which way to go. The trick is, you must carry your own lamp!” In this story, the Rabbi if Rizhyn reminds us that we need not be dependent on external factors for our realization of the Divine. But to bring forth this potential from within ourselves, we must understand what is mean by “lamp” and what is meant by “carrying.” Actually, the “lamp” is not something that we literally carry; it is something that we are. On the deepest level of our being, we are nothing but consciousness, represented by the metaphor of “light.” Our consciousness is not secret or hidden; it is that which is reading these words right now. It is the most fundamental and obvious dimension of our experience, always. And yet, because it is so obvious and basic, it is hidden in plain sight; if we wish to realize the full significance of our essence experientially, we have to make the effort of being conscious of consciousness; we have to practice Presence. This is what is meant by “carrying” in the story. To be more precise, we might amend the story to say that the wanderer had a flashlight in his pocket all along; he simply had to take it out and use it. Unlike specific practices such as prayer, meditation, and study, “carrying your lamp” is ideally a constant practice, something to cultivate as much and as often as possible, as we move through our days, moment by moment. How do we do that? There is a hint in our parshah, a teaching I heard from Rabbi Alan Lew, zikhrono livrakhah: וַיֹּ֨אמֶר מֹשֶׁ֣ה אֶל־הָעָם֮ אַל־תִּירָאוּ֒ הִֽתְיַצְב֗וּ וּרְאוּ֙ אֶת־יְשׁוּעַ֣ת יְהוָ֔ה אֲשֶׁר־יַעֲשֶׂ֥ה לָכֶ֖ם הַיּ֑וֹם כִּ֗י אֲשֶׁ֨ר רְאִיתֶ֤ם אֶת־מִצְרַ֙יִם֙ הַיּ֔וֹם לֹ֥א תֹסִ֛יפוּ לִרְאֹתָ֥ם ע֖וֹד עַד־עוֹלָֽם׃ And Moses said to the people, “Do not fear – stand firm and see the Divine salvation that is done for you today; for Egypt that you see today, you will never see again. יְהוָ֖ה יִלָּחֵ֣ם לָכֶ֑ם וְאַתֶּ֖ם תַּחֲרִישֽׁוּן The Divine will battle for you; and you will be silent…
Moses’ instruction to the people outline a series of steps through which we can enter into an awakened state, at any moment: Al tira’u – Do not fear… Fear is, at its core, a resistance to experience, a resistance to the moment being as it is. Al tira’u reminds us: we need not contract from whatever experience is now arising; our consciousness is an openness, like space itself, and all experiences come and go without tarnishing the space of consciousness within which they arise. Prove it to yourself: Hityatzvu – Stand firm… On the level of form – the level of body, feeling and thought – we are in motion. But on the level of consciousness, we are stillness. Like the eye of a hurricane, awareness perceives all the movement, but is itself not moving; it is simply an open space within which this moment arises. We can know this deepest level of our being by doing one thing: R’u – See “Seeing” means simply perceiving what is present. When we put our full effort into perceiving this moment as it is, not thinking about it, but simply “seeing,” then the quality of consciousness that is present as the seeing can become apparent to itself. What is that quality? It can be describes as fullness, wholeness, completeness. It is the radiant lamp of life itself, the bliss of being. This is the quality of ג gimel, the sense of being free, open, yet also connected, intimate. The passage goes on to say: כִּ֗י אֲשֶׁ֨ר רְאִיתֶ֤ם אֶת־מִצְרַ֙יִם֙ הַיּ֔וֹם לֹ֥א תֹסִ֛יפוּ לִרְאֹתָ֥ם ע֖וֹד עַד־עוֹלָֽם׃ For Egypt that you see today, you will never see again. Each of the main words here unfolds a deeper meaning: Mitzrayim – Egypt – means limitedness, or constriction. Hayom – Today – this means now, in the present. ad olam – unto Eternity – The ordinary translation is “ever again,” but it also means “Eternity” – that is, beyond time, beyond the thinking mind which conceives of time through memory and anticipation. With these in mind, we can retranslate this verse: כִּ֗י אֲשֶׁ֨ר רְאִיתֶ֤ם אֶת־מִצְרַ֙יִם֙ הַיּ֔וֹם לֹ֥א תֹסִ֛יפוּ לִרְאֹתָ֥ם ע֖וֹד עַד־עוֹלָֽם׃ For the constriction that you feel in this moment will not persist as you open to the Timeless… From this point of view, we can then recognize: יְהוָ֖ה יִלָּחֵ֣ם לָכֶ֑ם וְאַתֶּ֖ם תַּחֲרִישֽׁוּן The Divine will battle for you; and you will be silent… The liberation we seek is not something we control. The battle is done for us; all we need do is open the door by letting our minds become silent, by recognizing that on the deepest level, we are silence; we are Wholeness. It is true – on the level of form and time, we are never whole – we must always act to maintain and satisfy the next moment. Take a breath and you are whole for a few seconds, and then you must take another breath. But beyond and behind our ongoing need to fill the ever arising lack, there is Wholeness, and this Wholeness is there for us to know, to rest in, and to rely upon. It is because of this inner Wholeness that we can be authentically generous, that we can get free from the egoic tendency toward greed and self-centeredness: וּֽבְקֻצְרְכֶם֙ אֶת־קְצִ֣יר אַרְצְכֶ֔ם לֹ֧א תְכַלֶּ֛ה פְּאַ֥ת שָׂדְךָ֖ לִקְצֹ֑ר וְלֶ֥קֶט קְצִֽירְךָ֖ לֹ֥א תְלַקֵּֽט׃ When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap all the way to the edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest. וְכַרְמְךָ֙ לֹ֣א תְעוֹלֵ֔ל וּפֶ֥רֶט כַּרְמְךָ֖ לֹ֣א תְלַקֵּ֑ט לֶֽעָנִ֤י וְלַגֵּר֙ תַּעֲזֹ֣ב אֹתָ֔ם אֲנִ֖י יְהוָ֥ה אֱלֹהֵיכֶֽם׃ You shall not pick your vineyard bare, or gather the fallen fruit of your vineyard; you shall leave them for the poor and the stranger; I am Being Itself, your own Divinity.
The mitzvah of not entirely reaping our harvests from the land, but rather leaving some abundance for those in need to take and use, is possible to fulfill because the act of generosity itself helps to awaken the realization of this gimel quality of inner Wholeness. And while we may not be farmers (and even for those of us who are farmers, it may not help the needy to leave our produce out in the field nowadays), we can certainly actualize this principle by giving of our energy and resources for the blessing and benefit of others...
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Thirty-Two Paths – Parshat Beshalakh
2/3/2020 0 Comments Recently some visiting friends from the Bay brought their musical ensemble to perform in Tucson. Their specialty is Jewish music from Spain, North Africa and middle eastern countries, and one of their songs was a setting of a mystical piyut (spiritual poem) that mentioned “thirty-two paths.” Before the performance, after their rehearsal in our living room, the singer and oud player asked me if I knew what the “thirty-two paths” were. I said they were probably from the Sefer Yetzirah, an early Jewish mystical text which talks about the “thirty-two paths” as consisting of the twenty-two Hebrew letters and the ten sefirot. We talked a bit about what the sefirot are, and she said, “I don’t know much about Kabbalah because when I was little, my Hebrew school teacher taught me that Kabbalah was complete nonsense, not even really part of Judaism. She said that Judaism is a religion of the mind, of concepts and thinking, not mystical mumbo-jumbo.” She went on to say how, as she got older, she could tell that her teacher was deeply wounded, and that her “Judaism of the head” was probably a defense mechanism against fully feeling her painful emotions. It’s interesting how we humans, and particularly we Jews, tend to gravitate toward either/or thinking, preferring one side or the other of realities that clearly are composed of two sides. In the case of spirituality and Judaism, the intellect is in indispensable; there is no way you can engage a spiritual path without the discerning power of the mind and thinking. But, the mind is a tool, and like all tools, there is a time to wield it and a time to put it away. Imagine if you went out to chop some firewood – you would need an axe for the job. The axe would be essential – it would be unlikely that you could meditate the log into splitting. Imagine now that you went back inside with the chopped wood, built a fire, and curled up on the couch with your loved ones, but you still had the axe. There you were, snuggling up to the axe! That would be strange, right? We might call it neurotic or crazy. Certainly, you should put the axe back in the shed before you curl up on the couch. And yet, that is how some Jewish people are with their minds – they don’t want to set aside mind and thinking, even though it may have served its purpose, and it’s time to move on. After all, the mind is like the axe – necessary, but also a bit violent in a sense, because the purpose of the mind is to pick apart the wholeness of reality into different parts, question the parts, understand the parts, and try to put them back together the way you want them to be. Again – it is necessary to do this in order to be effective in time, but it doesn’t give us what we can only get from the cessation of thinking and doing, and the arising of simple being, of Presence. There is a hint in the parsha. The Israelites are complaining that they don’t have water to drink, so Hashem tells Moses to strike rock with his staff, and water comes forth from the rock to quench the thirst of the people. It then says that the place where this happens was named Massah and Meribah, because the people quarreled (riv, from which Meribah is derived) and they tested (nasotam, from which Maasah is derived.) This is the job of thought – “quarreling” רִיב and “testing” נַסֹּתָם; from the point of view of thought, we must not “accept things as they are” but rather question, wrestle, and then test our conclusions. But, all this quarreling and testing does not quench our deepest thirst; for that we must go to the “water” of consciousness that flows from the “stone” of silence. Why? Because silence is the vast field of awareness within which thought arises; it is its source and basis. If we remain fixated on thought, then our consciousness becomes trapped in form and forgets its essential freedom, its nature as spaciousness and peacefulness. There is a hint of this in the verse when the Children of Israel are complaining to Moses: הֲיֵ֧שׁ יְהוָ֛ה בְּקִרְבֵּ֖נוּ אִם־אָֽיִן Is the Divine present among us or not? This is the usual translation of this verse – the Israelites are questioning whether God is with them or not. But the word for “is,” יֵ֧שׁ yesh, and the word for “not,” אָֽיִן ayin, are the kabbalistic designations of the Divine paradox: God is both Yesh, Being or Existence, and also Ayin, Nothing, meaning not any particular thing. Furthermore, the word for “or” is אִם, which more commonly means “if.” Seen in this way, we can translate the verse like this: הֲיֵ֧שׁ יְהוָ֛ה בְּקִרְבֵּ֖נוּ אִם־אָֽיִן (We know) the Divine is (yesh) within us, IF (we are) Ayin/openness. In other words, if we want to sense the Yesh, the Presence of the Divine within, we need to become Ayin – we need to let go of thinking and be still and open. Only then can we receive the true nourishment, intimacy with the Presence, as it says in Pirkei Avot, quoting Lamentations: יֵשֵׁב בָּדָד וְיִדֹּם כִּי נָטַל עָלָיו He sits alone in stillness, for the reward is upon him… (Pirkei Avot 3:3, Lamentations 3:28) Rabbi Kalman of Crackow asked Rabbi Hirsh the Servant, who was the successor of Rabbi Menahem Mendel of Rymanov: “What is the secret of your way in prayer?” He replied, “My way was shown to me by my holy teacher, may he merit life in the World to Come. Concerning the Manna, it is written: וְיָצָ֨א הָעָ֤ם וְלָֽקְטוּ֙ דְּבַר־י֣וֹם בְּיוֹמ֔וֹ The people went out and gathered the amount for the day, in its day… (Exodus 16:4) “Every day is different, and every day has its own particular flow that comes to us in prayer, if we make ourselves open enough to receive it. This means there must be space between the words and space within, so that we may perceive from which prayer the flow is coming in each day…” Living the Miracle – Parshat Beshalakh 1/16/2019 0 Comments We often hear that we should get out of situations, jobs, or relationships that aren’t good for us. But sometimes staying in a situation, even if it feels bad, is the right thing. For example, when a father abandons his family, doesn’t he do it because the responsibility feels bad to him? Doesn’t he just want to be free? In that case, it’s obvious that “freedom” is not the highest value. But in the spiritual sense, freedom doesn’t necessarily mean leaving behind that which imprisons us; rather, if we really want inner freedom, we must turn toward our bondage. This may feel counterintuitive; if we want freedom from pain, it’s natural to want to get away from whatever is causing the pain. Just as in the Exodus from Egypt – the Israelites cry out because of their suffering, and Moses leads them out of Egypt and to freedom. That’s the ordinary way of thinking – leave Egypt behind. But there’s a hint of something different in this week’s reading: דַּבֵּר֘ אֶל־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵל֒ וְיָשֻׁ֗בוּ וְיַחֲנוּ֙ לִפְנֵי֙ פִּ֣י הַֽחִירֹ֔ת Speak to the children of Israel – they should turn back and encamp before Pi Hakhirot… When we think of the Exodus story, it’s common to imagine the Israelites fleeing Egypt, then coming to the Sea of Reeds and getting trapped with the Egyptian army behind them and the sea in front of them. But look at the text: they had already past the Sea of Reeds – they were already on their way, when the Divine tells them: vayashuvu – turn back! They deliberately turned around and back tracked, coming to camp at Pi Hakhirot, in front of the Sea of Reeds. There the Egyptian army caught up with them, and there the miracle of the parting of the sea occurred. Pi Hakhirot means “Mouth of Freedom.” The message is: If you want to truly leave bondage behind and go through the “Mouth of Freedom,” you have to first fully turn back toward your “oppressor.” Is there something or someone that “triggers” you, that stresses you out, that makes you angry or uncomfortable? Those feelings are within you; they are only brought to the surface by the external trigger. Until you can be present in the face of those feelings arising and not get caught, not get seduced, you will be in bondage, no matter far you flee from the external trigger. Instead, וְיָשֻׁ֗בוּ וְיַחֲנוּ֙ לִפְנֵי֙ פִּ֣י הַֽחִירֹ֔ת – shuv – return to the discomfort, and make friends with it, because that is the “Mouth of Freedom.” Ordinarily, we keep emotional pain alive by feeding it with our thoughts. Just as the soldiers of Pharaoh rode after the Israelites on their horses, so the mind is the “rider” and the emotion is the “horse,” pursuing us and seeking to drag us back into bondage. But stop feeding the emotion with thought, and instead become present your feelings – bring your awareness to your actual experience without adding extra interpretation – and the “army drowns in the sea.” That’s because all pain, all constriction, are nothing but forms of awareness. Bring your awareness to the constricted form of awareness. It may hurt a bit at first, but the constriction cannot persist in the light of Presence; through being conscious, it will let go. Then you too will be able to sing: אָשִׁ֤ירָה לַּֽיהֹוָה֙ כִּֽי־גָאֹ֣ה גָּאָ֔ה ס֥וּס וְרֹֽכְב֖וֹ רָמָ֥ה בַיָּֽם I will sing to the Divine, Transcendently Exalted, horse and rider are cast into the sea… Close- Parshat Beshalakh 2/7/2017 0 Comments Metaphorically speaking, Pharaoh sending out the Israelites is like when we are sent out of our inner bondage by the experience of suffering; we don’t like the suffering, so we’re motivated to find spiritual freedom. And if you want spiritual freedom, there’s a really fast, direct way to get it- just come to this moment as it is, without resistance. That’s the practice of Presence. But then it says: “V’lo nakham Elohim derekh eretz p’lishtim ki karov hu- "God didn’t lead them on the road to the land of the Philistines which was closer because God said, ‘The people might reconsider when they see battle and return back to Egypt.’” And this is the obstacle that many people get caught in when doing spiritual work. You start practicing Presence, then all this inner pain comes up- all your psychological issues and resistances, and rather than be motivated by all that suffering you’d rather go back to your old strategies. It’s easier to just drink some wine and watch a movie! At that point, you need something even deeper to keep you on track, and that’s the power of faith hinted at in the phrase, “ki karov hu.” In the plain sense, this simply means, “which was close” referring to the road in the land of the Philistines, which would have been the closer path for the Israelites to take. But the word Hu is also a Divine Name. Karov means close, but it can also mean intimate, connected. So on this deeper level, it’s saying that the Divine is present on the road of battle, that is, the experience of deep suffering. Have faith in that, because at first you won’t experience it. You’ll experience pain. But know ki karov hu- beneath the suffering is the spacious openness and wholeness of this moment, the Divine Presence that is not separate from your own presence, your own consciousness. You can access this Presence by being present- that is, by being karov, coming close to your actual experience in this moment, especially in suffering. Faith, and prayer, can help you do that. So as we come close to this Shabbat Beshalakh, the Sabbath of Sending, may we come close, karov, to the Reality of our actual experience and allow that truth to send us out from Mitzrayim- from the constriction of separation, into the wild mystery of Presence. "Yo That's Fresh!" Parshat Beshalakh 1/21/2016 2 Comments This d'var is dedicated to the swift and complete healing of Shaykh Dr. Ibrahim Baba Farajaje. Baba- you are the miracle. You may not know that I was a child rapper. When the first popular hip-hop song “Rapper’s Delight” came out in 1979, I was blown away. I wanted to do that too. I began composing my own raps and started a “crew” with a couple friends. Eventually, my group The Chilly Crew recorded a single on Sugar Hill Records (Though they changed our name to The Chilly Kids). My rap name was “Master Shack.” Though we were never successful commercially (and really we weren't very good), we were the first rap group with white people in it, before the Beasty Boys. But back then, white kids weren’t allowed to like black music. Most of my friends at that time were African American, and the white kids in my school would regularly taunt me. They called me a “white n*****”. They would pelt me with nuts and chips when I would get on the school bus. One day I responded by throwing my turkey sandwich at the ringleader in the back of the bus. It exploded all over him, getting mustard all over his clothes. The taunts stopped after that. Since we recorded on Sugar Hill Records, we used to regularly see the performers at the studio- The Sugar Hill Gang, Grandmaster Flash and Furious Five, and others. Those guys were part of a culture in New York City that defined black slang for the rest of the country, and I used to hear words and phrases from them before they made their way to my little town of Nyack. The most significant slang I of which I had advance knowledge was the expression- “fresh.” “Yo that’s fresh!” they would say, when they thought something was cool. When I found out about the word “fresh,” I was excited to go tell my friends at school about it: “Hey guys, guess what- there’s a new expression that’s going to become the new thing. It’s the word ‘fresh.’ This is how it works- when something is cool, you say, ‘Yo that’s fresh!’” They thought that was the stupidest thing ever- “Yo Shack says that we’re gonna be goin around sayin ‘Yo that’s fresh!’ HAHAHAHA!!!” They laughed and didn’t believe me. But within about a month, whenever something was cool, guess what they said? “Yo that is FRRR-ESH!!!” Sometimes we discover that Reality doesn’t correspond to the map of reality we hold in our minds. It can be a shock- something you’re so sure of turns out to be completely wrong. But when being wrong means that things turn out far better than we thought they would, we call that a “miracle.” The Egyptian army is behind us and the sea is front of us- we are doomed. And then, the sea opens before us- a miracle! Or, we’re stranded out in the wilderness with no food or water- we’re doomed for sure. But then- we wake up in the morning and a strange food covers the ground- Manna from heaven! Another miracle! These fantastical examples highlight our capacity to realize the miraculous. But in truth, you don’t need fantastical events. As long as you’re alive, you’re being showered with miracles in each moment. In fact, you are the miracle- in this moment. But to realize this takes a constant turning of consciousness toward the present- toward this moment that otherwise gets taken for granted. The greatest of all miracles is constantly unfolding, and so it appears to be ordinary- until the mind that is present pierces the ordinary, straight through to the Divine miracle of Being. This is the meaning of Yisrael- seeing straight through (Yishar) to God (El). There is a second element that obscures the miraculous: emotional resistance. Emotional resistance awakens us out of our complacency, but in the wrong direction. Things that we resist are the anti-miracles- the unexpected turns of Reality that disappoint us, challenge us, hurt us. But, the more present you are, the less you’ll be caught by the emotional resistance that arises. Instead, the pain breaks open the heart, uncovering our prayerful core. To make effort in consciousness, then, is the way to remove these two barriers to the miraculous- complacency and resistance. No complacency, no ordinariness- just the shining miracle of this moment. No resistance, no problem- just unfolding situations in the miracle of this moment. In this week’s reading, the Israelites are led by the Divine in their escape from Egypt: “Yomam b’amud anan, v’laila b’amud aysh- “By day as a pillar of cloud, and by night as a pillar of fire…” “Night” means times of difficulty and pain. Emotional resistance arises, creativity and joy are blocked. At such times you have to follow the Amud Aysh- the Pillar of Fire. Meaning, let your awareness burn brightly- stay present, connected to the truth of this moment. If you feel emotional pain- don’t avoid it. As you open fully to the experience, the pattern of resistance itself is gradually (or sometimes suddenly) burned up, and the “challenge” actually becomes a means toward transformation. “Day” is when things are going as usual. There’s a tendency to take things for granted, to lose appreciation for the goodness you’re receiving. At such times you have to follow the Amud Anan- The Pillar of Cloud. Meaning, know the uncertainty of the next moment. Know- everything that’s working well in this moment is a tremendous gift, a miracle beyond comprehension in fact. One day everything we hold dear will crumble back in the Mystery, so open yourself to appreciate the gift that unfolds now from this unknowable Reality. As the Israelites follow the pillar of cloud and fire and are led to freedom through the Sea of Reeds, they break into singing praises for the miracle of their liberation. This famous “Song of the Sea” tells their story- it expresses their unique identity. Similarly, when you learn to be present- to follow the pillar of cloud and fire in your own life- you’ll be led on your own unique path of destiny. Free from complacency and resistance, your inner flower will blossom, in a way that’s unique to you. Then, your life becomes your song- or your rap, no matter what your color. A schoolmaster from the town of Goray used to travel to visit Reb Yaakov Yitzhak, the Seer of Lublin. During one of his visits, the rebbe told him- “In your town there is a holy spark. Please try to locate it and bring it to me.” When he came home he considered the learned townspeople one by one, but wasn’t able to identify any of them as the holy spark his rebbe spoke of. So, one night he decided to hide himself in the beit midrash- the House of Study- because he thought if there were some saintly person in the town, that's where he would find him. In the dead of night, as he hid crouching in the corner, he heard the door open. In walked an odd youth named Mendel. Mendel was an unusual character who was known to gesticulate awkwardly and make strange noises. But this night, the schoolmaster saw Mendel open a volume of Talmud and enthusiastically study out loud, singing the words in his own unique melody, all the while standing on one foot. As the schoolmaster watched in awe, he accidentally lost his balance and knocked over a tin charity box which crashed to the floor, spilling its jangling coins. Startled, the youth closed his book at once, strode suddenly over to the stove, clapped his hands loudly and started making strange noises. The schoolmaster scrambled to his feet, approached the youth and said, “I know full well that your outlandish behavior is intended only to delude people. But your acting can’t fool me, for the Seer of Lublin told me to bring you to him.” The youth lost no time and set out for Lublin. When mendel’s father, who was a misnaged (opponent of Hasidism), found out that his son was on his way to the court of a famous hassidic rebbe, he rode after him in hot pursuit. When he caught up with his son, he challenged him: “Why do you forsake the tradition of your fathers?” his father scolded. Mendel replied, “In the Song of the Sea, when the Israelites were liberated from their slave identities and celebrated their true identities as children of the Divine, first it is written- “Zeh Eli v’anvehu- This is my Divinity and I will glorify It” And only later is it written- “Elohei avi va’arom’meihu- “The Divinity of my father, and I will exalt It…” Mendel’s father was taken aback and silenced, but later he understood- each person must find their own unique path, not merely copy the patterns given to them by tradition. That youth became the famous rebbe, Menachem Mendel of Kotsk. On this Shabbat Shira, the Sabbath of Song, may the fire and cloud lead each one of us on the path of presence, toward the full and beautiful unfolding of who we really are. May we find and sing our unique songs, each an expression of the One in the many. Good Shabbos! -b yosef Fire and Cloud- Parshat Beshalakh 1/29/2015 6 Comments In this week’s reading, Parshat Beshalakh, the Israelites escape Egypt and are confronted with many challenges. But what is a “challenge” exactly? Challenges exist because there arises an emotional resistance to things happening that conflict with what we want. Since it is impossible to act without being motivated by a want, and since it is impossible for the universe to absolutely conform to our wants, the conditions conducive to creating “challenges” are built into the fabric of reality. There is nothing we can do to change this basic fact: Reality is challenging. The more conscious you are, however, the less you will be caught by the emotional resistance that arises. And the less caught you are by the emotional resistance that arises, the less it arises! To make effort in consciousness, then, is the only way to remove your resistance, and hence to remove the problematic quality of life. No resistance, no problem- just unfolding situations. When you are living in alignment with your deepest values, clear in yourself about what you are dedicated to, you are fully conscious of your intentions and you live life with purpose. When you are conscious of your intentions, it is not such a leap to be conscious of your emotional resistance as well. However, if you find yourself spending time and energy on things that are not of your full choosing, things that are sapping energy and time away from what truly matter in your life, it is almost impossible to be conscious of your resistance because you are not even conscious about what you are doing. You have allowed things into your life- commitments, relationships, activities, whatever- that have no value to your life mission. Whatever those things are that you unconsciously find yourself stuck in- those are your Mitzrayim- your “Egypt”. If you want to be conscious and free from the constriction of emotional resistance, you have to first be conscious of your decisions. You have to eject these useless things from your life. You have to say goodbye to the Egypt of purposeless living. Life will be challenging either way, but why do you need to be challenged by things that are meaningless to you? Is it because of guilt? Because of fear? Because you just never stopped and asked the question, “is this serving my life purpose?” Get rid of it. Let the army of irrelevancy drown in the sea. Once you free yourself from the Egypt of your unconscious involvements, you’re energy is freed up to apply consciousness in a deeper way. There is a hint of this in the way the Israelites travel after leaving Egypt. It says that Hashem went before them “yomam b’amud anan- by day as a pillar of cloud… v’laila b’amud aysh- and night as a pillar of fire…” “Night” is when challenges happen. Emotional resistance arises, creativity and joy are blocked. At such times you have to follow the “pillar of fire”- meaning, move your awareness into the burning of the emotional pain- don’t avoid it. As you open fully to the experience, the pattern of resistance itself is gradually (or sometimes suddenly) burned up, and the “challenge” actually becomes a means toward transformation. “Day” is when things are going well. There is a tendency to take things for granted, to lose appreciation for the goodness you are receiving. At such times you have to follow the “pillar of cloud”- meaning, be aware of the uncertainty of the next moment. Know that everything that is working well in this moment is a tremendous gift, a miracle beyond comprehension in fact. One day everything we hold dear will crumble, so open yourself to appreciate the gift that unfolds now for you from this unknowable Reality. So get yourself free, then follow the pillars of fire and cloud that lead you on your way through the wilderness of freedom. It is a raw and uncertain road, but interestingly the word used for Hashem leading the people is nakham, which also means to “comfort”. Reality is rough on the ego that seeks comfort. And yet, to follow the pillars of fire and cloud is to find the ultimate comfort- the comfort of not running the show, of surrendering the “me” that wants to run the show. This Shabbat may we step off the stage and receive the true comfort of the One behind all shows. Good Shabbos!
Early in the career of Rabbi Dov Ber, the Maggid of Mezritch, he and his wife lived in great poverty. There were times when they had nothing to eat for days. During one such period, they were so hungry that his wife’s body could no longer produce milk for their infant. At first, the baby cried from hunger, but eventually, the baby became too weak even to cry.
The Maggid never complained about anything, but simply accepted life as it happened. But this one time, as he sat with his wife and the baby who was too weak to cry, he let out a sigh of despair. Immediately, a Voice came to him and declared that for this little complaint, he would be denied life in Olam Haba, the World to Come. The Maggid smiled to himself and prayed, “Barukh Hashem! Now that the future has been done away with, I can begin to serve God fully lishmah, for its own sake, in the present.” The Thirteenth Path is third Hebrew letter, ג gimel. Gimel means “camel,” which hints at the inner meaning of the Path: just as the camel carries its nourishment in its hump as it traverses the desert, so too there is a vast and inexhaustible abundance within that we carry with us as we traverse the “desert” of life; we only need to know how to access it. This inner abundance is fundamentally different from our ordinary, dualistic desires and needs for outer abundance. In the outer sense, in the flow of life through time, there is always an oscillation between abundance and lack. Take a deep breath and you feel complete; a few moments later you feel need, and you must take another breath. But inner abundance is different, because it is inherent in the consciousness that perceives both outer abundance and outer lack in time; inner abundance is the abundance with no opposite. Consciousness is, by nature, vast, spacious, whole, and complete. And yet, even though the abundance inherent in consciousness is always there at the root of our being, our experience of it comes and goes, just as all experiences come and go. It is like the ocean – always there, but we need to take the action of going to the beach and immersing ourselves in it. That act of immersion is meditation. Meditation, at its root, is sustained Presence – the bringing of consciousness into intimate connection with the fulness of experience as it appears in the present. As we intentionally connect with whatever is present, disengaging from the stream of thinking, that quality of wholeness inherent in consciousness becomes visible to itself. With sustained practice, consciousness becomes more and more reflected in the three levels of experience – sensory (Nefesh), emotion/feeling/mood (Ruakh), and thought/mind (Neshamah) – renewing our sense of wellbeing at all levels. But, meditation is not the only way to bring forth a connection with one’s inner abundance; we can also approach it from the opposite angle, the angle of action. When we behave as if that abundance is there, by living from love and giving generously to others, the giving itself can bring forth an awareness of our inner wellspring. כִּֽי־יִהְיֶה֩ בְךָ֨ אֶבְי֜וֹן מֵאַחַ֤ד אַחֶ֙יךָ֙ בְּאַחַ֣ד שְׁעָרֶ֔יךָ בְּאַ֨רְצְךָ֔ אֲשֶׁר־יְהוָ֥ה אֱלֹהֶ֖יךָ נֹתֵ֣ן לָ֑ךְ לֹ֧א תְאַמֵּ֣ץ אֶת־לְבָבְךָ֗ וְלֹ֤א תִקְפֹּץ֙ אֶת־יָ֣דְךָ֔ מֵאָחִ֖יךָ הָאֶבְיֽוֹן׃ If there is a needy person among you, from one of your brethren in any of your settlements in your land that the Hashem your God is giving you, do not harden your heart and do not shut your hand to your needy brethren. כִּֽי־פָתֹ֧חַ תִּפְתַּ֛ח אֶת־יָדְךָ֖ ל֑וֹ וְהַעֲבֵט֙ תַּעֲבִיטֶ֔נּוּ דֵּ֚י מַחְסֹר֔וֹ אֲשֶׁ֥ר יֶחְסַ֖ר לֽוֹ׃ Rather, open your hand to them and willingly lend them enough for whatever they need.
These verses encompass two different mitzvot – the mitzvah of giving to those in need (tzedakah), as well as the mitzvah of lending to those in need. The situation determines which is appropriate; if one is in an emergency for basic needs, tzedakah is more appropriate. But if their need is an investment to start a business and help themselves, lending is better. It is also worth noting that it is forbidden to charge interest when lending. While the precise rules about this are complex, the basic idea is simple – giving of oneself to uplift fellow beings. וְהַעֲבֵט֙ תַּעֲבִיטֶ֔נּוּ דֵּ֚י – V’ha’aveit ta’aviteinu dei – willingly lend enough… In the social sphere, the word dei, “enough,” means that our giving must be aimed at actually being helpful to the recipient. But on the inner level, the hint here is that through the act of giving “enough” to others, we can become aware of our own inner “enough-ness” – that is, the recognition that we are, in essence, complete and whole; this is awakening to the gimel quality of our deepest being. And in this recognition, we can let go of the psychological urge to “look” toward something or someone to make ourselves complete, to fill the lack we often feel on the external level of time and form. We can “let go” of it because it will have done its job; in fact, it is impossible to fully recognize our inner wholeness without first feeling the pain incompleteness. לֹֽא־רָא֞וּ אִ֣ישׁ אֶת־אָחִ֗יו וְלֹא־קָ֛מוּ אִ֥ישׁ מִתַּחְתָּ֖יו שְׁלֹ֣שֶׁת יָמִ֑ים וּֽלְכָל־בְּנֵ֧י יִשְׂרָאֵ֛ל הָ֥יָה א֖וֹר בְּמוֹשְׁבֹתָֽם׃ No one could not see their brethren and no person could arise from their place for three days; but for all the Children of Israel, there was light in their dwellings…
This passage, describing the plague of darkness inflicted on Egypt in the Exodus story, juxtaposes dark and light, representing the states of incompleteness and wholeness. When we are stuck in the hoshekh, the “darkness,” we are in Egypt, Mitzrayim, the narrow place; that is, identification with limitedness: שְׁלֹ֣שֶׁת יָמִ֑ים …וְלֹא־קָ֛מוּ …לֹֽא־רָא֞וּ –They could neither see nor rise, three days… Ra’u, “seeing,” is perceiving goodness in life. Kamu, “rising,” is feeling motivated to live, feeling that there is something to live for. Shloshet yamim, “three days,” represents those three levels of being that make up our sense of separate self: physical/sensory awareness (Nefesh), emotion/feeling/mood (Ruakh), and thought/mind (Neshamah). All of this makes up ego, the sense of being a separate someone. Ego is “darkness” in the sense that it obscures our essence; it covers up the inner vastness that we are. וּֽלְכָל־בְּנֵ֧י יִשְׂרָאֵ֛ל הָ֥יָה א֖וֹר בְּמוֹשְׁבֹתָֽם – and for all the Children of Israel, there was light in their dwellings… On the other hand, all three levels exist only because of our essence; this is the “light” of awareness itself. The hint here in juxtaposing the “light” and the “darkness” is that they need each other; it is through our awareness of the darkness – meaning, our Presence with our experience as it arises in the three levels – that our awareness can come to recognize itself, that we can come to know our essence as the light. This is hinted in the opening line of the parshah: וַיֹּ֤אמֶר יְהוָה֙ אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה בֹּ֖א אֶל־פַּרְעֹ֑ה כִּֽי־אֲנִ֞י הִכְבַּ֤דְתִּי אֶת־לִבּוֹ֙ The Divine said to Moses, “Come to Pharaoh – for I have hardened his heart…
The “hardened heart” is the ego’s resistance to present experience; it is the ossified sense of self as a being-in-need with its sense of incompleteness. It is emotional pain. But Hashem says, בֹּא Bo! Come to this moment as it is, bring the light of awareness to the truth of this moment; this is the path to Exodus, the path to the freedom of knowing our inner vastness, the gimel within…
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The Driver – Parshat Bo
1/27/2020 0 Comments The other day, I called a Lyft at the airport and I was picked up by an interesting fellow named Art. Art told me that he was much more than a mere Lyft driver, and that he liked to serve his customers by giving them special advice. The first advice he gave me was about the fact that Phoenix will soon be forbidding Lyft and Uber from taking people to or from the airport, due to a dispute about the fees the companies would have to pay to the city. His advice was that I could take Lyft to the rental car buildings near the airport, and then take the shuttle the rest of the way. The second advice he gave me had to do with the proper tequila to use for different purposes – one brand for shots, another for margaritas, another for mixing with lime and soda. Finally, he told me about a recent tragic incident in which one of those new driverless cars hit and killed a pedestrian. He explained that a homeless woman walked out into the street from behind some bushes, and the car was not able to “see” the woman until it was too late. He explained that a human driver would have been able to see the woman through the bushes, but the car was unable to sense her through the foliage. As we automate more and more of the world we inhabit, we must be ever aware of the dangers inherent in turning over control to machines. This is one of the great themes of our day, expressed in classics like the Terminator movies, the Matrix movies, The Borg of Star Trek, and many more. In a slightly more concealed way, it is also found in the many Zombie movies and television shows. Zombies are like mindless machines, simply carrying out their programming to eat anyone and everyone in their path. Both cultural images – the rogue machines as well as the undead – are so powerful not only because we are automating more and more of our external world, but also because they point to our inner world as well: the world of impulses, desires, and passions. Like most of our external automations, our desires are mostly useful. When we feel the impulse to breath, for example, we can generally trust that impulse. We don’t have to pay much attention to it; we can let it “take over” and dictate our next breath. However, when we swim under water, the impulse to breath can be deadly. In that case, we’ve got to be aware of the impulse and not succumb to it until we come up for air. Similarly, the impulse to eat is crucial to our survival. But if you work in a bakery and you’re surrounded by cake all day long, you might have to watch your impulse to eat. The same goes for many other impulses we have. The problem is not desire; desire serves our survival. The problem is unconsciousness of desire, of letting the desire take control, of becoming the victim of our desires. Just as it is with driverless cars: we shouldn’t lose our attentiveness completely; we still have to watch. All of this is true for anyone in ordinary situations. But for the aspirant who wants to become more conscious, attentiveness has a whole other dimension. It’s not merely for the sake of averting danger, it’s also for its own sake. Ordinarily, it is important to be aware of our breathing only if we are under water. But spiritually, it is beneficial to be aware of our breathing constantly, because it is through the deliberate cultivation of awareness that we come to know ourselves as awareness and thus become free. In fact, awareness of our impulse to breath or eat is itself a kind of breathing and eating; through awareness of our desires, awareness itself is deeply nourished. There is a hint of this in the parshah: וַיַּ֣עַל הָֽאַרְבֶּ֗ה עַ֚ל כָּל־אֶ֣רֶץ מִצְרַ֔יִם And the locusts came upon all the land of Egypt… וַיֹּ֜אכַל אֶת־כָּל־עֵ֣שֶׂב הָאָ֗רֶץ וְאֵת֙ כָּל־פְּרִ֣י הָעֵ֔ץ אֲשֶׁ֥ר הוֹתִ֖יר הַבָּרָ֑ד וְלֹא־נוֹתַ֨ר כָּל־יֶ֧רֶק בָּעֵ֛ץ וּבְעֵ֥שֶׂב הַשָּׂדֶ֖ה בְּכָל־אֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרָֽיִם׃ And they ate all the greenery of the land and all the fruits of the trees which the hail had left, so that nothing green was left of tree or grass of the field, in all the land of Egypt. These locusts are the embodiment of desire, consuming everything in their path. They are also insects, which are often considered to be disgusting by humans and generally unfit for eating: כֹּ֚ל שֶׁ֣רֶץ הָע֔וֹף הַהֹלֵ֖ךְ עַל־אַרְבַּ֑ע שֶׁ֥קֶץ ה֖וּא לָכֶֽם׃ All winged swarming things that walk on fours shall be an abomination for you. (Leviticus 11:21) Insects are generally not kosher. And yet, when it comes to locusts, the taboo against eating insects no longer applies: אֶת־הָֽאַרְבֶּ֣ה…אַ֤ךְ אֶת־זֶה֙ תֹּֽאכְל֔וּ מִכֹּל֙ שֶׁ֣רֶץ הָע֔וֹף הַהֹלֵ֖ךְ עַל־אַרְבַּ֑ע But this you shall eat from all winged swarming things that walk on fours… the locust! (Leviticus 11:22) The locust, the symbol of desire and consumption, is good to consume! The hidden message here is that we must “eat” our “eating” – we must “feed” our consciousness by being present with our impulses and desires. How do we do that? וַיֹּ֤אמֶר יְהוָה֙ אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה בֹּ֖א אֶל־פַּרְעֹ֑ה כִּֽי־אֲנִ֞י הִכְבַּ֤דְתִּי אֶת־לִבּוֹ֙ וְאֶת־לֵ֣ב עֲבָדָ֔יו לְמַ֗עַן שִׁתִ֛י אֹתֹתַ֥י אֵ֖לֶּה בְּקִרְבּֽוֹ׃ The Divine said to Moses, “Come to Pharaoh. For I have hardened his heart and the hearts of his courtiers, so that I may place My signs among them… Bo el Paro – “Come to Pharaoh” means that the Divine is within Pharaoh, beckoning us to “come” – meaning, to bring awareness to the feeling of the impulse in order to reclaim the consciousness trapped within it. Hikhbadti et libo – I have hardened his heart – The “hardness” of our impulses is not merely for keeping us alive. Its deeper purpose is to give our consciousness something to wrestle with, so that it may be strengthened and thus awaken to its full potential. That is the greatest miracle – the miracle of coming to know what we truly are – alive, spacious and free – so that I may place My signs among them... The Inner Child – Parshat Bo 1/11/2019 0 Comments I recently gave my thirteen-year-old son an electric guitar after he expressed a desire to play. He then surprised me by spending enormous chunks of time learning guitar from YouTube videos – The Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, Queen – the rock guitar classics. Some days he’s been sitting and practicing for nearly six hours at a time! Now what to do you think would happen if I told him that he has to sit for six hours and practice guitar? Obviously, that wouldn’t work, and I might be arrested for child abuse. Maybe Mozart’s father could get away with that kind of thing, but I wouldn’t dare try. That kind of intensity has to come from an inner passion; you don’t sit and practice for six hours unless you really want to. Passion is totally different from self-discipline, from making and sticking to commitments and obligations. And, passion is something we have as children; it’s not something we have to develop, like the adult qualities of being responsible, following through on plans and so on. Obviously, adult qualities are also necessary. In fact, it is doubtful he would have been able to sit down and teach himself guitar like that had I not been requiring him to practice piano and drums from a very young age. I imposed an adult-based discipline structure on him, and that gave him a basic foundation of musical skill. That skill is useful for musical greatness, but not sufficient. For greatness you need to become passionately obsessed! And that kind of passion is a child-like quality; it doesn’t have to be developed or created, only uncovered and unleashed. This is especially true with spirituality. It is important, perhaps essential, to have a committed practice, to study the teachings regularly, to put spirituality on your to-do list and use your adult mind to make it a priority. But if that’s all you’ve got, it won’t go deep. You may master texts and rituals and words, but all that will remain on the surface. You can use your adult mind to set aside times for prayer, but once you start praying, you’ve got to become like a child and cry out from the heart. You can use your adult mind to set aside times for meditation, but once you start meditating, you’ve got to be really curious like a child – what is happening in this moment? – rather than merely doing a technique. וַיֹּ֣אמֶר משֶׁ֔ה בִּנְעָרֵ֥ינוּ וּבִזְקֵנֵ֖ינוּ נֵלֵ֑ךְ ... כִּ֥י חַג־יְהֹוָ֖ה לָֽנוּ Moses said, “With our children and our elders we will go… for it is a festival of the Divine for us…” In this week’s parshah, Pharaoh asks Moses who will be leaving Egypt, hoping that only the men will go. That’s what the ego whispers to us: “It’s okay, you can do your spiritual practice – just put it on your agenda. Be adult about it.” But Moses says, “No, we’re all going – our children and elders both must go celebrate the festival!” If we want our spiritual life to be true celebration of Being, and not be coopted by ego/Pharaoh, we’ve got to invoke the child within. Certainly, we need the z’keinim – the elders – as well, but once the adult mind has performed its function, once the adult mind has done its organizing and planning, give the adult a break and bring forth the child within. Only then can you really serve b’khol levavkh’a – with all your heart, with all your being… The Sweet Roll- Parshat Bo 1/14/2016 5 Comments I remember a funny sketch from an old Electric Company episode. A man dressed in what looks like a navel uniform sits in a restaurant and orders from a waitress with puffy red hair and a classic blue waitress uniform: “I’ll have a cup of coffee and a sweet roll,” says the man. “We are out of sweet rolls,” says the waitress. “A glass of milk and a sweet roll.” “We- are- out- of- sweet- rolls,” the waitress repeats a little bit more slowly. “Ice tea and a sweet roll.” “We are out of sweet rolls!” The redness of her hair starts migrating into her face, leaving her hair white. “Orange juice and a sweet roll?” She really leans in now- “WE ARE OUT OF SWEET ROLLS!!!” “Okay, then, I’ll just have a sweet roll.” “AAAAARRRRRGH!!!!” She screams and runs out the door. How many times have you gotten some message over and over again in your life, but you didn’t listen? Or perhaps you couldn’t listen? In this week’s reading, that’s what happens to Pharaoh. Moses and Aaron present plague after plague to Pharaoh in order to persuade him- "Shalakh ami! "Let my people go!" During each plague Pharaoh relents, but after each one subsides, he contracts into his old position- he just doesn’t get it. What does he think he’s accomplishing? But that’s exactly what the ego does: it brings suffering upon itself over and over again, rather than learning the all-important lesson: Let go! So why is it often so difficult to let go? One common reason is the fear that if you were to let go, you’d be ignoring your real problems- that you’d become irresponsible and everything would fall apart. Actually, the opposite is true. When you lose your happiness and freedom because you’re struggling with your problems, you now have two problems- both the difficult situation and the inner tension and negativity generated by your struggling and worrying. And with all that inner tension, how are you going to improve things? But when you bring your awareness to your resistance and see it clearly for what it is, there’s a higher wisdom that can flow into your life. New possibilities can appear that were previously hidden. That’s because your awareness is much bigger than “you” can see. Your ego/personality is “Pharaoh”- king of Mitzrayim- of narrowness, of limitedness, mindlessly repeating the same old patterns over and over again. But your awareness is Divine- it’s Reality looking through your eyes- courageous, creative, present and free. So next time you find yourself struggling, resisting or reacting with negativity, see if you can "catch yourself in the act." Be curious about it- see the pattern that's emerging. If you're feeling too much negativity to see clearly, try prayer. Ask the Divine to help you, to free you from the pattern. Just this simple act creates a new inner space in which your awareness can rise above whatever inner noise you're experiencing. Then, be alert for whatever answer comes, whatever new possibility reveals itself. The Divine Presence is always with you- It is your own presence, beneath your mind, beneath your personality. There's a story about a hasid named Mottel of Kashlin, a businessman who had extensive dealings in Warsaw and spoke Polish fluently. One day, Reb Yitzhak of Vorki called for him with a request. The Polish government had issued a decree to burn all extant copies of the Shulkhan Arukh, Hoshen Mishpat- The Code of Jewish Law that deals with civil and criminal matters. The goal was to force Jews to take their litigation to the Polish courts rather than the rabbinical courts. No books had been burned yet, and Reb Yitzhak wanted Mottel to approach a certain powerful Polish minister and convince him to retract the decree. “But that minister has a raging temper!” Mottel protested. “He threatens to shoot anyone who comes with requests like that!” The tzaddik replied, “When Hashem sent Moses to save his people, he didn’t tell him to go to Pharaoh. He said: 'Bo el Paro- “Come to Pharaoh…' "Moses was afraid, so Hashem reassured him that the Divine Presence would be going with him." So Mottel set out to confront the minister, calm and unafraid. When he arrived, he spoke eloquently and convincingly. The powerful man was awestruck by the presence of the brave yet calm and joyful hasid who stood before him, and granted his request. O Hashem, on this Shabbos Bo, the Sabbath to Come, may Your wisdom and transcendent bliss come into our lives through this gift of awareness with which you imbue us. May this awareness come to touch every manifestation of "Pharaoh" that You've given each of us to elevate and transform. May we not require any more of the plagues of violence and narrowness on our planet in order to evolve- Transformation now! Moshiakh Akhshav! Ignoring Ignorance- Parshat Bo 1/23/2015 1 Comment Sometimes you might be fooled into thinking that spiritual freedom is a delusion, that in order to have it you would need to ignore your real problems. Actually, the opposite is true. When you lose your happiness and freedom because you are thinking about your problems, isn’t that the delusion? Is it not delusion to think that by making yourself miserable you are somehow addressing or improving your situation? In reality, you now have two problems- the difficult situation and the inner tension and negative energy generated by your thoughts. In this week’s reading, Parshat Bo, Moses has been presenting plague after plague to Pharaoh, but Pharaoh just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t realize that his refusal to let the Israelites go free is bringing plagues upon himself. What does he think he is accomplishing? But that is exactly what the ego does: it brings suffering upon itself, rather than allowing liberation to happen. The remedy is in the opening lines in which G-d says to Moses, “Bo el Paro- come to Pharaoh.” G-d doesn’t say, “go to Pharaoh” but “come to Pharaoh”, indicating that G-d is there with Pharaoh, telling Moses to “come”. In other words, the Divine is found in the suffering itself, not in trying to avoid it. Bring your awareness into your suffering. Don’t look out into the future from your suffering, imagining that things will be better once you get what you want. The end of suffering and the beginning of liberation is the un-knotting of the Pharaoh, and that begins with bringing your attention into the Pharaoh, becoming conscious of the energetic knot of resistance within. Once that knot is broken, liberation is immediate; it is a leap. Don’t try to be too prepared. When it’s time to go, just go. Unleavened bread and all. There is only one chance, and that chance is now… and yet "now" never ends! There is a hint of this in the word "bo" which means "come". It is composed of two letters- bet and aleph. The bet has the numerical value of two, and can mean "house". The aleph as the value of one, and among its many meanings are "chief" and "ox". In the movement of consciousness toward any contraction that is arising within your body, the contraction can release and the duality between consciousness and contraction of consciousness can shift into unity. Rather than there being suffering on one hand, and resistance to suffering on the other, there is just presence with Being as it is unfolding. To do this, you have to be like a bayit- a welcoming home for whatever arises within. Then, you can evolve into an aluf- a "chief" of self mastery, unified within, strong and rooted like an ox. May this Shabbat see the un-knotting of all contracted separateness and may we come close to the Divine Presence in sweet intimacy for healing, peace and wisdom. Amein.
The letter ב bet, which means “house,” points to the quality of welcome, of hospitality. And, just as bet corresponds to the number two, so too does hospitality have two main aspects: welcoming guests in, as well as allowing the guests to leave. Both aspects need to be there for hospitality to exist; a home is a wonderful thing, but not if you are trapped inside!
On the social level, this is obvious, but hospitality has its analogue on the inner level as well. In meditation, it can be tempting to try to control your mind, to try to keep your thoughts out. But this aggressive and manipulative approach isn’t really meditation; the essence of meditation is not controlling thought, but transcending thought. Meaning: meditation is the shift of self-sense from the thinking mind to the space of awareness behind and beyond the thinking mind. How do we do that? Through the attitude of welcome; be the open space that allows present experience to be as it is. Welcome your thoughts in, but also allow them to leave. Without becoming involved in the stream of thinking, thoughts will come and go, and through this practice, the thought stream can come to subside altogether, on its own. There is a hint of this in the parshah: At the end of the book of Bereisheet, Pharaoh generously welcomes the Children of Israel into Egypt, and they settle in the district of Goshen. As the book of Shemot begins, a new Pharaoh enslaves the Hebrews and won’t let them leave; hospitality turns into control. This is how the mind tends to work – we are open and welcoming to thoughts that arise, and then we unconsciously become involved with our thoughts, seeking through them to gain some sense of control over our experience. This is the “enslavement” of consciousness through identification with thought and feeling, the creation of ego, represented by Pharaoh. If we try to get free by seeking to control the mind and not think, this is just more ego, more of that impulse to control our experience. This impulse stems from the two basic qualities of ego, expressed in the following verse: וְהַכְבֵּד֙ אֶת־לִבּ֔וֹ וְלֹ֥א שָׁמַ֖ע His heart became heavy/stubborn, and he didn’t listen…
Moses is pleading with Pharaoh to let the Children of Israel go free, but Pharaoh is both “stubborn” and “not listening.” וְהַכְבֵּד֙ אֶת־לִבּ֔וֹ – v’hakhbed et libo – His heart became heavy/stubborn… This “heaviness” of the heart is emotional resistance, not accepting the moment as it is, seeking instead to control one’s experience. וְלֹ֥א שָׁמַ֖ע – V’lo shama – and he didn’t listen… This resistance arises in the vacuum created by the absence of Presence, the absence of fully “listening,” fully connecting with whatever is present. The remedy is to bring consciousness into connection with the fullness of the moment for its own sake, not for the sake of a certain experience, even a spiritual experience. It is to honor the appearance of Reality in this moment, to hear Reality’s message to us, as it says in the opening of the parshah: וָאֵרָא – Va’eirah – And I appear… The ו vav at the beginning of the word means “and,” hinting that Reality is constantly appearing in new ways, now this way, now that way, as expressed by the Name given to Moses at the Burning Bush: אֶֽהְיֶ֖ה אֲשֶׁ֣ר אֶֽהְיֶ֑ה – Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh – “I Will Be Whatever I Will Be.” There was once an old and widowed hasid who lived by himself. He wasn’t interested in getting remarried; instead, he prayed constantly that Shekhinah, the Divine “Bride,” would appear to him on Friday night, on Shabbat. (The Shekhinah is personified as the feminine aspect of the Divine.) One day, a majestic female Voice came to him and said, “I will come visit you this Friday night.” “So wonderful! Thank you!” said the hasid, “May I invite guests?” “Of course!” said the Shekhinah. The hasid was so excited, he invited all his friends. On Friday he spent all day making the most sumptuous Shabbos feast. He cleaned the house, beautifully decorated the dining room, and set off to shul for Friday night prayers. After prayers, his friends accompanied him back to his house. He had prepared the table in advance, and was excited to bring his friends into the dining room to make Shabbos and witness the manifestation of the Divine Presence at his Shabbos table. But, when they entered the dining room, all were shocked to see a huge dog on top of the table, eating up the challah and other delicacies! He grabbed a broom and started beating the dog and shooed it out the door. “Oy! I am so sorry! This is so terrible – the food has become unfit, and now I have nothing to serve you.” Dismayed and somewhat shocked, his friends left. The man sat at the table for a while in grief. “I’m sure Shekhinah will not appear now, after what happened.” After some time, he took some wine and began chanting the Kiddush, the sanctification of Shabbat said over a cup of wine. But then, as he finished chanting the words, m’kadesh HaShabbat, a queenly and radiant woman appeared before him, only she was all cut and bruised! “You have come!” exclaimed the hasid, “But what happened to you? Are you okay? You must have been in some kind of accident!” “It was no accident,” she said, “it was you!” The hasid was taken aback – “Me??” “Yes! I wanted to enjoy your delicious Shabbos feast, so I came in the form of a dog – who could enjoy food more than a dog? But you beat me and kicked me out!” The hasid then understood – he hadn’t recognized the form that the Divine had taken, and he begged forgiveness… This moment, just as it is, is the form that the Divine now takes. Will you welcome Her in? אֶֽהְיֶ֖ה אֲשֶׁ֣ר אֶֽהְיֶ֑ה – Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh – “I Will Be Whatever I Will Be!”
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The Magician – Parshat Va'eira
1/20/2020 0 Comments When I was little, being sick meant that I got to stay home from school and watch TV all day. What else was I going to do? The dangerous part of this, of course, is that being sick was incentivized. I don’t remember if that was a problem for me, but I’m extra aware of this problem nowadays for my own children. That’s because “television” is now much worse – it’s no longer a big piece of furniture in the living room enjoyed by all, but rather it’s a little device that can be watched with headphones under the covers. We know that sitting around watching television or YouTube for hours and hours isn’t ideal for the nervous system. Even without the ample scientific evidence telling us what the brain needs to stay healthy, we know it intuitively: learning, creativity, physical exercise. Any decent children’s school will be giving a good dose of all three to its students every day. And yet, while we know this is good for us and therefore give it to our children, many adults won’t give it to themselves. For many, the end of school marked the end of learning and the beginning of a work life that is mostly mechanical and uncreative…and we suffer for it. The remedy is something Judaism has always known: keep learning! Make learning part of your daily routine: רַבִּי חֲנִינָא בֶן תְּרַדְיוֹן אוֹמֵר, שְׁנַיִם שֶׁיּוֹשְׁבִין וְאֵין בֵּינֵיהֶן דִּבְרֵי תוֹרָה, הֲרֵי זֶה מוֹשַׁב לֵצִים, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר וּבְמוֹשַׁב לֵצִים לֹא יָשָׁב. אֲבָל שְׁנַיִם שֶׁיּוֹשְׁבִין וְיֵשׁ בֵּינֵיהֶם דִּבְרֵי תוֹרָה, שְׁכִינָה שְׁרוּיָה בֵינֵיהֶם, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר אָז נִדְבְּרוּ יִרְאֵי יְיָ אִישׁ אֶל רֵעֵהוּ וַיַּקְשֵׁב יְיָ וַיִּשְׁמָע וַיִּכָּתֵב סֵפֶר זִכָּרוֹן לְפָנָיו לְיִרְאֵי יְיָ וּלְחֹשְׁבֵי שְׁמוֹ. Rabbi Hanina ben Tradion said, “If two sit together and there are no words of Torah between them, then this is a session of scorners, as it is said: “In the session of scorners he does not sit” (Psalms 1:1); but if two sit together and there are words of Torah between them, then the Shekhinah (Divine Presence) abides within them, as it is said: “Then those in awe of the Divine spoke one with another; and the Divine listened and heard, and a book of remembrance was written before the Divine, for those in awe of the Divine and who meditate on the Divine Name.” (Malachi 3:16) (Pirkei Avot 3:3) The Shekhinah is not merely an esoteric belief. Every new thing we learn literally builds new neural pathways and the brain is enlivened. There is a natural joy in learning and growing (be it physical, intellectual or creative), because it is only through learning and growing that our aliveness is active, that our tremendous potential is realized. This is Shekhinah sheruyah veineihem – the Divine Presence dwells within them; it the actual experience of learning and growing. The Divine listened and heard, and a book of remembrance was written… When we learn, our nervous system literally grows and changes. This is the “Book of Remembrance” – the new neural pathways that we create. For those in awe of the Divine and who meditate on the Divine Name… There are many kinds of learning. We are most familiar with the type of learning that happens on the level of thought, but meditation in which thought is suspended is also a kind of learning; it is learning how to give the mind rest from thought while remaining totally conscious. This is “meditating on the Divine Name” – using sounds or sacred words as foci for the mind, while intentionally letting go of thoughts as they arise. It is far better to combine meditation with conceptual learning rather than practice only one or the other, because meditation keeps the mind fresh, alive, creative and conscious of the awesome mystery that lies beyond the grasp of thought. There is a hint of this in our parshah: וַיֹּ֣אמֶר יְהוָ֔ה אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֥ה וְאֶֽל־אַהֲרֹ֖ן לֵאמֹֽר׃ כִּי֩ יְדַבֵּ֨ר אֲלֵכֶ֤ם פַּרְעֹה֙ לֵאמֹ֔ר תְּנ֥וּ לָכֶ֖ם מוֹפֵ֑ת וְאָמַרְתָּ֣ אֶֽל־אַהֲרֹ֗ן קַ֧ח אֶֽת־מַטְּךָ֛ וְהַשְׁלֵ֥ךְ לִפְנֵֽי־פַרְעֹ֖ה יְהִ֥י לְתַנִּֽין׃ The Divine spoke to Moses and Aaron saying, “When Pharaoh speaks to you and says, ‘produce a wonder for yourselves,’ you shall say to Aaron, ‘Take your staff and cast it down before Pharaoh,’ and it will become a serpent.” (Exodus 7:9) A disciple asked Rabbi Elimelekh of Lizhensk about the meaning of this verse: “Why does Pharaoh say, תְּנ֥וּ לָכֶ֖ם מוֹפֵ֑ת t’nu lakhem mofet – produce a wonder for yourselves. He should say, produce a wonder for ME. The point is to convince Pharaoh with the miracle, not themselves! Rabbi Elimelekh explained, “When a magician produces a wonder, it’s only a wonder to the audience, not to the magician; the magician knows how the trick is done. But a miracle is not accomplished by the person who facilitates the miracle, but by the Divine, and so the miracle is just as much a wonder to the one doing it as it is to others who witness it. So, this is what Pharaoh is saying: Don’t give me a magic trick, let me see a miracle that would be just as much a wonder to you as it is to me!” Regular learning is essential for living a joyful and fulfilled life. But the danger is that the more information and understanding the mind acquires, the less susceptible it becomes to the Mystery and to Awe: גָּ֘ד֤וֹל יְהוָ֣ה וּמְהֻלָּ֣ל מְאֹ֑ד וְ֝לִגְדֻלָּת֗וֹ אֵ֣ין חֵֽקֶר Great is Existence; abundantly praised as Divine – It is a Greatness beyond all comprehension… (Psalm 145:3) This is why meditation together with learning is so important; in learning to rise above thought by practicing regularly, the mind is washed from its arrogance and complacency and enlivened to behold the Supreme Mystery yet again, right now… Missing the Train – Parshat Va'eira 1/3/2019 0 Comments The other day, one of the folks in our community wrote me that he often feels like his mind is a train station and his thoughts are the trains, constantly taking off every few seconds. He wants to just let the “trains” go and stay in the “train station,” but he feels compelled to hop on every “train” that leaves, compulsively journeying into nearly every thought that arises. “When will I learn to relax and just stay in the train station?” he wondered. He's in good company! At the end of last week’s reading, Moses wonders in a similar way: וַיָּ֧שָׁב מֹשֶׁ֛ה אֶל־יְהוָ֖ה וַיֹּאמַ֑ר אֲדֹנָ֗י לָמָ֤ה הֲרֵעֹ֙תָה֙ לָעָ֣ם הַזֶּ֔ה לָ֥מָּה זֶּ֖ה שְׁלַחְתָּֽנִי׃ Then Moses returned to the Divine and said, “My Lord, why did You bring harm upon this people? Why did You send me? Moses is on his Divine-given mission to free the Israelites, but he’s feeling like a failure. Similarly, when we commit to getting free from our own minds, we may feel like failures as well. Those trains are so tempting! Part of the problem is expressed in the metaphor of “staying in the train station.” That doesn’t sound very enticing, does it? Going on different journeys, on the other hand, that’s enticing! And this is why we get carried away so easily with our thoughts; they promise adventure. They promise understanding. They promise new ideas, new plans, cherished memories and fantasies of possibility. No wonder we get carried away so easily by those trains! If we want to get free from our own minds, we need to be seduced by something more powerful, more compelling than our own thoughts. This is the hidden message of the Divine response to Moses: וַיֹּ֤אמֶר יְהוָה֙ אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה עַתָּ֣ה תִרְאֶ֔ה אֲשֶׁ֥ר אֶֽעֱשֶׂ֖ה לְפַרְעֹ֑ה כִּ֣י בְיָ֤ד חֲזָקָה֙ יְשַׁלְּחֵ֔ם וּבְיָ֣ד חֲזָקָ֔ה יְגָרְשֵׁ֖ם מֵאַרְצֽוֹ׃ Then the Divine said to Moses, “You shall soon see what I will do to Pharaoh: he shall let them go because of a greater might; indeed, because of a greater might he shall drive them from his land.” Pharaoh, the symbol of ego and enslavement to the mind, will let them go free because of a “greater might” (literally, a “mighty hand”). What could be greater than the enticingly seductive power of thought? וַיְדַבֵּ֥ר אֱלֹהִ֖ים אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֑ה וַיֹּ֥אמֶר אֵלָ֖יו אֲנִ֥י יְהוָֽה׃ The Divine spoke to Moses and said to him, “I am Existence Itself.” Meaning: the “I” is not separate from All Existence, because every experience, every perception, every thought, every feeling that arises in our awareness is inseparable from awareness, and we are the awareness. The ani, the “I,” is really the ayin – the open space of perception, vast and borderless, and nothing is separate from that openness. So, don’t try to control your mind; don’t try to discipline yourself to “stay in the train station” while your mind tempts you with all kinds of things. Know that your awareness is not just a train station, not just the place from which the “trains” of thought arise, but is rather an ocean of bliss, complete and ever-creative, ever-renewing. Consciousness is the true adventure. Let yourself be seduced by That. Let yourself fall in love with That, and don’t worry about the trains. Thoughts can seem powerful, but the awareness that you are is the יָד חֲזָקָה – the mightier hand – if you let yourself be seduced… The Gift Beyond Self – Parshat Va'eira 1/11/2018 When Moses complains that he can't confront Pharaoh due to his "sealed lips," Hashem responds with the strange words: "N'tatikha Elokim L'faro – I give you, a God, to Pharaoh!" What does this mean? There is a dimension of your being that transcends all your problems, all your reactions, all your conditioning. It transcends your thoughts, your opinions, your goals, your hopes, and your fears. Every experience you have arises within It, and disappears back into it. It is a vast, free, wellspring of peace, healing and renewal, regardless of what happens in your experience. When we are unconscious of this vast dimension of being, we tend to identify with the content of our experience; we feel that our thoughts, our feelings, and our bodies are "me." That's the Pharaoh; it's the "me" that wants to control things, that seeks approval, that judges. But when you remember the awareness within which everything in your experience appears and disappears, then you know your own Divinity – your own absolute freedom from the tyranny of ego. Then, there can be a tremendous sense of gratitude – N'tatikha Elohim L'faro – I give you, a God, to Pharaoh! Your own Being is not separate from or other than God, and that's the most supreme Gift; though it's an even greater gift to know it! As it says (Pirkei Avot 3:18): "Beloved are human beings, for they are created embodiments of the Divine. But they are extra beloved in that it is made known to them that they are embodiments of the Divine!" The Plague- Parshat Va'eira 1/6/2016 3 Comments This week’s reading begins the onslaught of plagues against Pharaoh and Egypt. Appropriately, the other day I went into the bathroom to find the toilet teaming with huge ants- darting with lightning speed along the outside and inside of the bowl. A plague of ants! I flushed the toilet- hundreds were sucked down the pipe in seconds… only to make room for hundreds more which miraculously emerged from under the rim. Ah… the wildlife of Costa Rica! Not sure what to do, I glanced around the bathroom, when a movement caught my eye outside the window. It looked like a woody stick was caught in some cobwebs behind the window screen, but this stick was moving. I looked closer- it was a “stick bug”- a huge locust-like insect camouflaged like a stick. It had gotten caught in a nest of old webs. I went out around the house to the window in order to free the entangled stick bug. I used a real stick to twirl the webby strands like spaghetti. The stick bug struggled free and leaped onto an adjacent boulder sticking out of the earth. (That boulder’s new name is Mt. Sinai.) For me, those old webs were mere feeble threads, easily overcome with minimal effort. But to the stick bug, they formed an unbreakable prison. So too with those psychological webs that ensnare the soul! From the outside, it’s easy to see how a person can get free- they just have to stop thinking a certain way, or stop doing a certain habit. But from within the mind of the person who’s caught, it can seem impossible. That’s why it can be so incredibly helpful to have someone else- a teacher, coach or friend- to give you feedback and perspective. There’s a story in Talmud about this idea: Rabbi Yohanan was a great miracle-worker and healer. When he visited a sick person, he would ask, “Are these afflictions dear to you?” They would then answer, “Neither they nor their reward.” Then he would take them by hand and they’d be instantly healed. One day, Rabbi Yohanan fell sick. Rabbi Hanina went to visit him and asked, “Are these afflictions dear to you?” Answered Rabbi Yokhanan, “Neither they nor their reward.” Then, just as Rabbi Yohanan had done for so many others, Rabbi Hanina offered his hand and healed Rabbi Yohanan. The Talmud then asks, why did Rabbi Yohanan need Rabbi Hanina’s help? Let him heal himself! It then answers its own question: “Ayn havush matir atzmo mibeit ha’asurim- “A prisoner cannot release himself from prison.” Just as a prisoner needs someone else to get free, so too the right person can help liberate you, spiritually speaking. And yet, if someone gives you the perspective you need to get free from the thought-webs of your own mind, then that means there must be a part of yourself that’s already free. Otherwise, it would be impossible to see beyond your limited perspective and you’d be stuck forever. The part that “sees” was never stuck in the first place. As the traditional morning blessing says, “Barukh Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melekh HaOlam, shelo asani oved- “Blessed are You, Divine Being, our own Divinity, who has not made me a slave…” Now matter how stuck you get, your essential identity is free from that web of thoughts and personal stories that the “me” gets caught in. In fact, the “me” and the “web” are the actually the same thing. But your essential identity, beyond the “me,” is always free. Of course, when you’re stuck, you’re not living in your essential identity; you’re resisting it. In this week’s reading, Moses too resists freedom, complaining that he can’t possibly confront Pharaoh: “Behold, I have sealed lips- how is Pharaoh going to listen to me?”(Ex. 6:30) But Hashem reassures Moses in an incredibly surprising way- “Re’eh- n’tatikha Elokim l’Paro- “See! I have made you God (Elohim) to Pharaoh...” Moses is God? What does this mean? But the key is in the first word- “Re’eh- See!” That which sees, the awareness that looks through your eyes, is the master over all the other forces within. It is the God within- your essential identity. If you don’t know that, you identify with the other forces- with feelings, with thoughts, with memories, with ideas- all those webs of the personality, of “Pharaoh.” But as soon as you “hear” the Divine command to see (meaning, "be aware") then the exodus begins, and your essential identity starts to awaken. But not only is your awareness the master over your personality- it’s even deeper than that. There’s a hint of this at the very beginning of the parsha (Ex. 6:2): “Elohim said to Moses, ‘I am YHVH.’” The first divine name, Elohim, means the divine personality. It’s the deity. The second Name, the unpronounceable Y-H-V-H, is far more expansive, meaning Existence Itself, not a divine being merely within existence. The message here is that your essential identity is not something separate from the rest of Existence. Your essential identity is Existence, waking up as you, yet completely beyond “you.” The awakening of your essential identity beyond your personality is actually something very simple. And while it may take years of learning and practice for this awakening to stabilize completely (if ever), it takes no time at all to shift into an awakened state, at least temporarily. In fact, lots of learning and practice can sometimes get in the way of it, if your learning and practice become part of your ego- if they become strands in the web of your mind-created identity. But, crack open your heart and you naturally and effortlessly slip from the webs and step onto the rock of Sinai for yourself. One year, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak held the Passover Seder so perfectly and devoutly, that every word and ritual glowed with holiness and secret significance. The next morning, while he sat in his room joyful and proud, a Voice came to him: “More pleasing to Me than your seder is that of Hayim the water-carrier.” The rabbi asked around about the man whose name he had heard, but no one knew who he was. So, some of his disciples went off to search for him. At the outskirts of the city in a poor neighborhood, they found the hovel of Hayim the water-carrier. They knocked on the door and a woman answered: “Yes, my husband is Hayim the water-carrier, but he drank a lot yesterday and he’s sleeping it off now. If you try and wake him you’ll find he won’t even be able to move.” They went in anyway and shook him. He just blinked and tried to turn over and go back to sleep, but they wouldn’t give up. They pulled him out of bed, carried him on their shoulders to their rebbe’s house, and sat him up in a chair. Reb Levi Yitzhak leaned toward him and asked, “Reb Hayim dear heart, what kavanos (mystical intentions) were in your heart when you gathered the humitz (leavened foods)?” The water-carrier looked at him dully, shook his head and replied, “Master, I just looked around and gathered it together.” The astonished tzaddik continued his questioning- “And what kavanah did you have in mind when you burned it?” The man pondered, looked distressed, and said hesitatingly, “Master, I forgot to burn it, and now I remember- it’s still lying on the shelf.” “Hmm,” the rabbi puzzled, “And tell me, Reb Hayim, how did you celebrate the seder?” Then something seemed to light up in the eyes of the man, and he replied in humble tones- “Rabbi, I’ll tell you the truth. You see, I’ve always heard that it’s forbidden to drink brandy on the eight days of Pesakh, so yesterday morning I drank enough to last me all eight days, and I got tired and fell asleep. “Then my wife woke me in the evening and said, ‘why don’t you celebrate the seder like other Jews?’ “‘What do you want from me?’ I said, ‘I am an ignorant man, son of an ignorant man, and I don’t know what to do and what not to do.’ “Still, I went and sat down to the table, where she had placed matzos and eggs. Broken hearted, I began to sing a wordless melody. My wife joined me, and we sang together mournfully, pouring out our hearts. “I cried, ‘Ribono Shel Olam- Master of the World! You brought our ancestors out of Egypt to freedom- will you make us free too?’ “As we sang, something started to change inside me. The burden of my life- my troubles- my fears- none of it seemed to matter anymore. I looked around- everything seemed to glow with the most beautiful light. My wife could see it too. We felt as though we were tasting true freedom- as though we were coming out of Egypt. “So the two of us sat and sang and drank and rejoiced. Then I got tired, lay down, and fell back asleep.” On this Shabbos Va’eira, the Sabbath of Appearing, may we learn to not fall back asleep from the Divine when She appears. Instead, may we bring our wakefulness into connection with everyone we meet. May the world be transformed in the image of our Divine potential, bringing an end to all the unnecessary plagues we unconsciously create for ourselves and for the earth, speedily in our day- Moshiakh Akhshav!
There’s a story of Rabbi Pinhas of Kortez, that early in his career, people began calling upon him for advice and special blessings. A day wouldn’t go by without him having to interrupt his learning and davening to answer the knocks at the door, which irritated him greatly.
Finally, when he could take no more, he prayed that the interruptions would stop so that he would be able to serve Hashem in peace and solitude. His prayer instantly manifested, and everyone who knew him suddenly hated him. The interruptions ceased, and for the first time in years, Rabbi Pinhas had some peace. When the festival of Sukkot came around, however, R. Pinhas couldn’t find anyone to help him build his sukkah, the outdoor hut which is central to the celebration of Sukkot. He had to do it himself, and even his wife had a terrible time trying to find someone from whom to borrow tools. Now, the central theme of Sukkot is hospitality, and it is a great mitzvah to invite guests into your sukkah for meals – both human guests and the ancestral spirits, especially the Biblical personalities. On Erev Sukkot, the afternoon before the holiday began, R. Pinhas tried to invite the wayfarers he saw at the synagogue, but they refused to come, so widespread was his infamy. So, without guests, he and his wife observed the festival alone. When it came time to invite in the ushpizin, the ancestral guests, the spirit of Abraham suddenly appeared and stood at the entrance of the sukkah. But as R. Pinhas pronounced the invocation, Abraham just stood there, not entering the sukkah. “Avraham avinu – Abraham our father – why do you not enter? What have I don’t wrong?” asked R. Pinhas. “It is not my custom to enter a place where there are no guests,” he replied. R. Pinhas realized his error, and prayed once again, this time that people should resume their visits. This prayer too was succesful, and thus began his career as a rebbe. The Eleventh Path is the second letter, ב bet, which literally means house – bayit. Bet hints, therefore, at the quality of hospitality, both in the ordinary social sense in which one welcomes the presence of beings, as well as the deeper sense in which one welcomes the Presence of Being. Along this line, the bet represents the ancient Temple in Jerusalem, the modern synagogue, the family home, as well as the space in the home designated for spiritual practice, and even the personal space of our own bodies. In the broadest sense, bet means form itself, because all forms, all beings, all phenomena, are embodiments of Being, manifestations of That which we call the Divine. The spiritual task is to make this conscious, to live with the attitude of welcome, so that the Divine dimension is not just acknowledged, but actively invited. יוֹסֵי בֶן יוֹעֶזֶר אִישׁ צְרֵדָה וְיוֹסֵי בֶן יוֹחָנָן אִישׁ יְרוּשָׁלַיִם קִבְּלוּ מֵהֶם. יוֹסֵי בֶן יוֹעֶזֶר אִישׁ צְרֵדָה אוֹמֵר, יְהִי בֵיתְךָ בֵית וַעַד לַחֲכָמִים, וֶהֱוֵי מִתְאַבֵּק בַּעֲפַר רַגְלֵיהֶם, וֶהֱוֵי שׁוֹתֶה בְצָמָא אֶת דִּבְרֵיהֶם Yose ben Yoezer, a man of Zeredah, and Yose ben Yohanan, a man of Jerusalem, received [the oral tradition] from them [i.e. Shimon the Righteous and Antigonus]. Yose ben Yoezer used to say: “Let your home be a house of meeting for the Sages and sit in the dust of their feet, and drink in their words with thirst. יוֹסֵי בֶן יוֹחָנָן אִישׁ יְרוּשָׁלַיִם אוֹמֵר, יְהִי בֵיתְךָ פָתוּחַ לִרְוָחָה, וְיִהְיוּ עֲנִיִּים בְּנֵי בֵיתֶךָ Yose ben Yochanan, a man of Jerusalem, used to say: “Let your house be open wide, and let the poor be (as) children of your household.”
These two aphorisms speak of different aspects of hospitality – the first is a kind of sanctifying hospitality, in which the home is made hospitable to our teachers, to those who will help up us on our path. The second is more of a humbling hospitality, in which the home is made hospitable to those we wouldn’t necessarily choose to have in our space, other than to practice hospitality. Together, these two aspects also metaphorically hint at the embodiment of hospitality at a deeper level – the level of thought and speech: יְהִי בֵיתְךָ בֵית וַעַד לַחֲכָמִים – Y’hi beitkha beit va’ad lahakhamim – Let your home a house of meeting for the sages… On this level, “sages” refers to the expression of meaning; this is the putting together of thoughts and sounds into language. יְהִי בֵיתְךָ פָתוּחַ לִרְוָחָה – Y’hi beitkha patuah larvaha – Let your house be open wide… This means that, even as the forms of words and sentences are constructed, they should be “open” – meaning, not rigid, not ideological, not reified. This is so important today, when societal polarization over ideology is so common. There is a teaching about this on a verse from Parshat Noakh, the story of Noah’s flood: צֹ֣הַר תַּֽעֲשֶׂ֣ה לַתֵּבָ֗ה – Tzohar ta’aseh latevah – A window you shall make for the ark…
The Baal Shem Tov taught on this verse that the word for ark, tevah, can also mean “word.” He said that our words must be “open,” that we must make “windows for our words,” in a sense. Meaning, our thoughts and words aren’t the end of the story; they are like maps, merely pointing to a much more vast territory than they can ever express, and they therefore must always be open to new insight, new information, new nuance of perception. Another dimension of this teaching, connected to the first, is Presence in speech – the practice of brining awareness to one’s words as they are spoken, so that the act of speaking itself is a kind of meditation. This practice of Presence in speech both helps maintain an open, non-ideological attitude, as well as helps prevent identification with words – the unconscious process by which we tend to lose our ability to differentiate between our thoughts and our essence. This process of unconscious identification with thought is what we might call the birth of ego. In Torah this is represented by the Israelites’ descent into slavery in Egypt, which begins in Parshat Shemot: וְאֵ֗לֶּה שְׁמוֹת֙ בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל הַבָּאִ֖ים מִצְרָ֑יְמָה אֵ֣ת יַעֲקֹ֔ב אִ֥ישׁ וּבֵית֖וֹ בָּֽאוּ׃ These are the names (shemot) of the Children of Israel who came to Egypt with Jacob, each person and his household came…
Shemot, which means “names,” represents thought in general, as the essence of thought is the breaking up experience into parts and then naming those parts. While thought is essential for growing in our understanding of Reality, as well as navigating practical matters, it is a double edged sword; as our vast and formless consciousness takes on specific form as thought, the danger is that it can easily “lose itself.” We can become “lost in thought,” believing ourselves to be merely “thinkers,” and forgetting the inner freedom of our vast and formless essence – the field of awareness that we are, beneath and beyond our thoughts. This process of identification, of losing touch with our essence, actually happens not only with thought ("names"), but with our bodies and with our feelings as well ("houses"). אִ֥ישׁ וּבֵית֖וֹ בָּֽאוּ … וְאֵ֗לֶּה שְׁמוֹת֙ These are the names… each person into their house came… Just babies learn the limits of their own bodies and come to feel that they are “inside” the body looking out at an external world, so too we eventually come to feel that we are “inside” our thoughts and feelings, as well. This sense that we are inside the “houses” our bodies, thoughts and feelings is what is meant by identification, the beginning of ego, the beginning of bondage. Furthermore, once this inner bondage of ego-creation takes place, we then become subject to fear and insecurity, for we know on some level that all forms are inherently temporary, fragile, and therefore insecure: וַיָּ֥קָם מֶֽלֶךְ־חָדָ֖שׁ עַל־מִצְרָ֑יִם אֲשֶׁ֥ר לֹֽא־יָדַ֖ע אֶת־יוֹסֵֽף׃ A new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph. וַיֹּ֖אמֶר אֶל־עַמּ֑וֹ הִנֵּ֗ה עַ֚ם בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל רַ֥ב וְעָצ֖וּם מִמֶּֽנּוּ׃ And he said to his people, “Look, the Israelite people are much too numerous for us!"
This “new king,” the “Pharaoh,” is of course the ego – the “bondage” of consciousness identified with form. This fearful ego seeks to secure its status and eliminate threats, just as Pharaoh does in the story. Pharaoh begins by enslaving the Israelites and attempting to reduce their population by telling the Egyptian midwives, Shifra and Puah, to kill all the baby Hebrew boys. But the midwives refuse to buy into this fear-based violence, and they do the opposite, saving the babies. This is the remedy for the suffering of ego that results from identification with form – the Spirit of Welcome, or Hospitality. וַיְהִ֕י כִּֽי־יָֽרְא֥וּ הַֽמְיַלְּדֹ֖ת אֶת־הָאֱלֹהִ֑ים וַיַּ֥עַשׂ לָהֶ֖ם בָּתִּֽים׃ And because the midwives had reverence for the Divine, Elohim made for them houses…
This strange verse tells us the reward the midwives received for saving the babies – Elohim made for them houses. In other words, the “houses” of their bodies and feelings and thoughts became “Divine” – their essence was no longer trapped by form, but was rather embodied and expressed by form. This is the key to inner liberation, to tziyat mitzrayim, to “going out from Egypt,” to being free from ego: rather than creating ego by identifying with our “house,” with body and thought and feeling, we can instead inhabit our “house,” while still knowing we are infinitely more than the “house” – we are not merely body and thought and feeling; we are the vast and free space awareness itself, both within and far beyond the “house.” We do this by making our “house” into a place of welcome; in other words, we do it by welcoming whatever arises in the moment. There is a famous story that a young Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk once asked some learned men who were visiting him, “Where does God live?” Laughing, they responded, “What a thing to ask! Melo khol ha’aretz k’vodo – the whole earth full of God’s glory!” Menachem Mendel then answered his own question: “God dwells wherever we let God in.” Welcoming the Divine in and as this moment is a direct and simple thing to do; all it requires is the attitude of openness to this moment as it appears, right now. But, this is not always easy, because once ego is created, it seems so real; emotional pain arises, and it can seem impossible to get beyond it, to access our spacious essence. The key, however, it to actually use our pain to transcend it: וַיֵּאָנְח֧וּ בְנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֛ל מִן־הָעֲבֹדָ֖ה וַיִּזְעָ֑קוּ וַתַּ֧עַל שַׁוְעָתָ֛ם אֶל־הָאֱלֹהִ֖ים מִן־הָעֲבֹדָֽה׃ The Israelites were groaning because of their work, and cried out; and their cries from their work rose up to Elohim…
The word for work here is עֲבֹדה avodah, which also means prayer, or spiritual practice in the broader sense: שִׁמְעוֹן הַצַּדִּיק הָיָה מִשְּׁיָרֵי כְנֶסֶת הַגְּדוֹלָה. הוּא הָיָה אוֹמֵר, עַל שְׁלשָׁה דְבָרִים הָעוֹלָם עוֹמֵד, עַל הַתּוֹרָה וְעַל הָעֲבוֹדָה וְעַל גְּמִילוּת חֲסָדִים: Shimon the Righteous was one of the survivors of the great assembly. He used to say: “The world stands upon three things: Torah, Spiritual Practice (avodah), and Acts of Kindness."
This formulation gives the three pillars of a spiritual life – learning Torah (which is what you are doing right now as you read this), transformative practices such as prayer and meditation, and living the teaching through acts of generosity and service toward others. But the fact that the word avodah is also the word used to describe the suffering of slavery hints at a crucial point: the suffering we endure must become part of our spiritual practice if it is to lead to liberation. We have to fully feel and fully acknowledge the suffering, without denial but also without resignation and victimhood; we must “cry out to the Divine” – bring the truth of our suffering into our practice, which means laying our burden at the feet of Hashem, so to speak. This is authentic prayer; this is how the cry of suffering leads to liberation. But to do this, we must be awake enough to remember, moment by moment, this vital task: וְאַתָּ֞ה תְּצַוֶּ֣ה אֶת־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֗ל וְיִקְח֨וּ אֵלֶ֜יךָ שֶׁ֣מֶן זַ֥יִת זָ֛ךְ כָּתִ֖ית לַמָּא֑וֹר לְהַעֲלֹ֥ת נֵ֖ר תָּמִֽיד׃ You shall command the Children of Israel to bring to you oil of olives, pure, crushed for lighting, for kindling lamps continuously…
This mitzvah of lighting the menorah in the Tabernacle, and later the Temple, again points to this process of turning our pain, our sense of being “crushed,” into the pure oil of consciousness that burns constantly and illuminates the space within all forms. וְעָ֥שׂוּ לִ֖י מִקְדָּ֑שׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּ֖י בְּתוֹכָֽם׃ They shall make for Me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among/within them…
This verse, which in its context is describing the building of the Tabernacle in the wilderness, expresses a universal message and a practical and useful instruction: make your life – both the joy and the pain – into a “home” for the Divine. We do this through the three major forms, the three "houses" of Torah learning, daily practices (avodah) and acts of kindness, remembering to transmute the pain through our avodah, by laying our burden at the “feet” of Hashem… מַה טֹּֽבוּ אֹהָלֶֽיךָ יַעֲקֹב מִשְׁכְּ֒נֹתֶֽיךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל Mah Tovu Ohalekha Ya’akov, Mishkenotekha Yisrael! How good are your tents, O Jacob, places of Dwelling Presence, O Israel! (From Morning Blessings liturgy)
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The Blazing Love – Parshat Shemot
1/13/2020 0 Comments וְאֵ֗לֶּה שְׁמוֹת֙ בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל הַבָּאִ֖ים מִצְרָ֑יְמָה And these are the names of the children of Israel who came to Egypt… A disciple once asked Rabbi Avraham Yehoshua Heschel of Apt: “It says that the seven years Jacob worked to marry Rachel seemed like a few days to him because of his love for her. How does this make sense? If he loved her so much, the seven years should seem even longer, not shorter! I would think that every minute he had to wait would feel like an eternity!” The rabbi of Apt responded: “There are two kinds of love: the kind that attaches you to the object of your love, and the kind that is given freely to your beloved. We are most familiar with the first kind – we love someone or something, and the love enslaves us; that’s the kind when every minute away from your beloved seems like an eternity. But Jacob had the second kind of love – his love was given away freely to Rachel, and so he too was free. In that freedom, he wasn’t longing for the future, he was simply being in the moment; so, the entire seven years seemed like only a moment, because throughout that time he had always been in the moment!” On the physical level, we are absolutely slaves, in constant need of external support to survive. This is reflected in the parshah – the children of Israel are driven to Egypt by the famine and the promise of food, and there they become slaves. וַיַּעֲבִ֧דוּ מִצְרַ֛יִם אֶת־בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל בְּפָֽרֶךְ Egypt enslaved the children of Israel with crushing labor… Egypt is Mitzrayim, which comes from the root that means “constriction” and “suffering,” hinting that on the physical level we are ever incomplete, ever in need of external nourishment, without which we suffer and die. But the physical, form-based dimension of experience is not all there is. The very fact that we can feel suffering at all means there is awareness that feels. That awareness, that dimension of being without which there cannot be any experience at all, is itself beyond Mitzrayim, beyond constriction. Spacious and free, awareness is the ever-present background against which the constriction of Mitzrayim comes and goes. How do we access this dimension of freedom? Love this moment! It is true, we are often acting to bring about results that we need for our survival; even our next breath is toward this end. But our actions need not only be aimed at the narrow and conditional goals of the future; we have the power to also be in this moment lishma, for its own sake, to offer our Presence to the inner goodness of this moment, as it is. This is the second kind of love the Rabbi of Apt speaks about: the love that sets us free. To bring forth the love that sets us free, we must remember that the inner goodness of this moment is easily hidden by our goals in time, by our Mitzrayim-based aim to secure something for ourselves. There is a hint of this in the passage about Moses’ birth: וַתֵּ֤רֶא אֹתוֹ֙ כִּי־ט֣וֹב ה֔וּא וַֽתִּצְפְּנֵ֖הוּ She saw that he was good, so she hid him… She feared for Moses’ life, because Pharaoh threatened to kill him. Moses represents the pathway to freedom, while Pharaoh represents the encroaching and deadening power of ego that kills the simple joy of being. Moses’ mother is the beginning of desire for freedom, the desire that cries out: בַּ֭צָּר הִרְחַ֣בְתָּ לִּ֑י חָ֝נֵּ֗נִי וּשְׁמַ֥ע תְּפִלָּתִֽי Batzar Hirkhavta Li, Honeni uSh'ma Tefiltati! From constriction You expand me – be gracious to Me and hear my prayer! (Psalm 4:2) If the path to freedom were not hidden, there would be no desire for it, no longing in the heart for release from Mitzrayim, and freedom wouldn’t stand a chance. It is only because it is hidden that desire for freedom is born: דִּרְשׁוּ יְהֹוָה וְעֻזּוֹ בַּקְּשׁוּ פָנָיו תָּמִיד Seek the Divine and Its Power; search for Its Presence constantly… (I Chronicles 16:11) And when we seek, we find – because It is not elsewhere; It is hidden within this moment, hidden as the Presence of Being within all being. Give your attention to this Presence and you draw it forth. Just as Pharaoh’s daughter drew forth Moses from the river, so too we draw forth the light of the present from the river of time; it shines like a soft glow at first, then like a fire that blazes forth but heals rather than burns. All we need do is give our attention to It, to love this moment for Its own sake. Then, the path to freedom appears in the present, as Presence… וַיֹּ֤אמֶר אֱלֹהִים֙ אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה אֶֽהְיֶ֖ה אֲשֶׁ֣ר אֶֽהְיֶ֑ה And Elohim said to Moses, “I Am That I Am” Seek the Face – Parshat Shemot 12/28/2018 0 Comments It is difficult to be present when we face adversity. But it can be just as difficult, if not more so, when we are in easeful situations. That’s because without the motivation to escape suffering, the tendency is to forget all about the constant effort required to present. וְאֵ֗לֶּה שְׁמֹות֙ בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל הַבָּאִ֖ים מִצְרָ֑יְמָה These are the names of the children of Israel who came to Egypt… The children of Israel went down into Egypt because it they needed nourishment; Egypt was a place of satisfaction, and only gradually did it become a place of great suffering. And, it was only because of the suffering that the Israelites were motivated to leave and return home. Similarly, when our experience is pleasant and easeful, it is easy to sink into “Egypt” without knowing it – meaning, it’s easy to sink into identification with the mind and its thinking. After all – נָ֑פֶשׁ וְיֹוסֵ֖ף הָיָ֥ה בְמִצְרָֽיִם Joseph was in Egypt. “Joseph” represents the power to grow, to be creative, and this is the power of thought. But when thought becomes so constant that we lose connection with the space of awareness within which thought arises, we’ve become stuck in Egypt, in Mitzrayim, the place of narrowness. Then, when adversity comes, the degree to which we’ve become trapped gets revealed with the reactivity that arises, and the suffering that comes along with it. But, not to worry! The force of the suffering itself can cause “Pharaoh” to let go. Meaning, consciousness that’s become trapped in identification with thought – called “ego” – is motivated to let go when it feels the suffering that it unconsciously created. The key is to use suffering in the right way – accept it fully, let it do its thing. In that openness to whatever arises lies the key to liberation. The suffering may persist for some time, but eventually it burns itself out, just as Pharaoh eventually relents after the ten plagues. But even better is to learn to remain conscious when things are good! Give thanks for the great and constant blessings of Being, root your awareness in your body, let go of the stream of thinking, and know yourself as the Light of Presence within which this moment arises. This is hinted at in a verse from Chronicles: בַּקְּשׁ֥וּ פָנָ֖יו תָּמִֽיד Bakshu Fanav Tamid Seek Its Face Constantly Behind every experience is the radiant Light of Being, but you have to "seek it out" in a sense. This is a totally different kind of seeking from the ordinary kind, in which you seek something that isn't present, something that's hidden somewhere else. "Seeking the Face" means remembering that whatever the moment brings is literally the Face of the Divine – a manifestation of Reality, arising in the vast field of consciousness that you are... "I" Am With "You" – Parshat Shemot 1/3/2018 2 Comments When Moses confronts the Voice from the Burning Bush calling him to his destiny, he responds, Mi anokhi ki elekh el Paro? – Who am I to come to Pharaoh? To which the Voice responds, Ki Ehyeh imakh – For I will be with you. On the surface, God is reassuring Moses – “don’t worry, I’ll be there to help you out.” But look at what the words are actually saying: Mi anokhi? – Who am I? The answer is, Ehyeh imakh – I will be with you. In other words, Ehyeh imakh is actually who Moses is. This is, in fact, who we all are at the very root of our being – an open space of awareness, awake to whatever arises in its field. We might call this level of our being, “Presence With.” This Presence (that is both the Divine Presence and our own presence) has a dual nature: on one hand, it has no other agenda than to simply be. On the other hand, since it is free from all other motivations, it also bubbles with potential. Every idea, inspiration and motivation arises from within it. That’s why the tense of Ehyeh is ambiguous; it can mean I Am, but it can also mean I Will Be. And to clarify this further: a few verses later, Moses asks the Voice what its Name is. The answer is Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh – I Am That I Am, or I Will Be What I Will Be. Presence and Potential, Being and Becoming, in One. This Presence and Potential is not something we must develop or create; it is who we are, if we can uncover it – if we can step off the worn path of our habits and behold the firey core of this moment. And how to do that? Say: Ehyeh imakh. Open yourself to fully be with this moment as it is. And in that Presence, is your own presence – along with the infinite potential of Whatever Arises Next. Good Shabbos! -brian yosef Against the Wall- Parshat Shemot 12/31/2015 5 Comments One summer when I was about eight years old, I was walking through the playground at my day camp in upstate New York. As I passed by a certain play structure, built as a replica of a covered wagon, a bigger kid with a mean face came out of the wagon and told me to get inside. Hypnotized by his authoritative tone, I immediately acquiesced. Once inside, I saw what was going on: several scared kids, some of whom were my friends, were all trapped at one end of the room with their backs against the wall. “Get against the wall with the others!” the big mean kid barked at me. I did. He then proceeded to lecture us: “You are all now my slaves. You will do exactly as I say, or I will crush your head!” With that, he took a small thick stick and rammed it against the wall near us. He then continued bashing it and grunting, violently splintering off pieces of wood against the corrugated aluminum. I became very still and alert. I couldn’t accept being this kid’s prisoner. I watched him very closely for several minutes, waiting intently for a moment when his awareness of me would lapse. As he threatened us and repeatedly rammed his stick against the wall, he glanced just briefly at the spot where he was pretending to bash someone’s head. That was the moment. Without thinking, I darted for the door, jumped down the steps and escaped. I hope the other kids were okay that day. At that time, all I could do was free myself. But in this week’s reading, Moses receives the calling to free his entire people. He had already freed himself, escaping from the wrath of Pharaoh into the dessert. Eventually, he settled down with the Midianites and married Zipporah, daughter of the priest Jethro. Then, one day while shepherding the flock, a Divine angel appears to him in a blazing fire burning within a thorn bush. He goes to examine the strange sight and notices that the bush is not being consumed by the flame: “Moses hid his face- afraid to gaze on the Divine…” Why was he afraid? In this and every moment, there is nothing but Truth-Reality-Divinity everywhere, fully available and free. And yet, we too tend to “hide our face”- to shrink away in fear. There are three types of fear gripping Moses at the burning bush, hinting at three types of psychological resistance we often feel toward being fully present with the “burning bush” of this moment. First, when Moses hides his face, what does Hashem say to him? “I have seen their afflictions and heard their cries…” Being present can make you temporarily vulnerable to feelings of pain- both your own and the pain of others. In fact, the increased suffering of the Hebrews on the threshold of their liberation hints at this truth: To become free, you must be willing to fully feel whatever pain comes to you. But, for us as in the story, there comes a time when the pain of resistance becomes greater than your resistance to pain. When that happens, you can surrender your resistance, feel whatever temporary pain you were resisting, and get free. Second, when God chooses Moses for the awesome mission of liberating his people, what’s Moses’ response? “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and that I should take the Children of Israel out of Egypt?” If you become free from your limited narratives about yourself, you then must confront your enormous potential. This gives rise to a different fear- what if I fail? Sometimes it’s easier to think of yourself as worthless than to acknowledge your tremendous potential. If you're worthless, then you don’t even have to try; you can stay comfortable with the status quo. But when the magic of empowerment becomes sweeter than the security of comfort, you too will be able to look unflinchingly into your inner “fire”- your true potential- and get free. Finally, when Moses asks what God’s Name is, what’s the reply? “Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh- I Will Be That Which I Will Be…” Entering the world of the Eternal- that is, the present moment- means letting go of the world of time. To let go of the world of time means putting aside the world of thought. To put aside your thoughts, you must have trust: “If I stop worrying about the future and be fully here, will I be okay? Will things work out?” The Divine is reminding Moses: “You don’t have to worry. I will be with you. Who made your mouth anyway? And even deeper- everything is ultimately Me. I am the Hebrews, I am the Pharaoh. I am everything in this moment, and later on, it will still be Me. I’ll be whatever I’ll be. Let go into this moment, trust that you will have what you’ll need, and embrace your path.” Letting go into this moment and trusting is like pouring water into a cup: The water takes the shape of the interior. It doesn’t resist one cranny, one curve, one angle; it simply takes the precise form of the vessel, without hesitation and without effort. In the same way, you can “pour” your awareness into the “vessel” of this moment. There’s a hint of this in the beginning of the parsha: “Uv’nai Yisrael paru… vatimalei ha’aretz otam- “And the children of Israel were fruitful… and the land became filled with them” Who are the “Children of Israel?” “Israel” comes from the Hebrew Yashar El- “straight to God”- so to be Israel means to drop the idea that you are separate from God/Reality. To drop the separateness is to “fill the land”- to be like water, perfectly conforming to the vessel of this moment. But then it says: “Vayakam melekh hadash al Mitzrayim- “And a new king arose over Egypt…” This king, the Pharaoh, is fear. It’s the fear of pain, the fear of your own potential and the fear of the unknown. Ultimately, it’s the fear of death of the separate “me.” The separate “me,” or ego, is formed by contracting away from “sides of the vessel”- that is, awareness disconnecting from the fullness of this moment. Pharaoh is the king of Mitzrayim- the land of tzar- of narrowness. He is the King of Contraction. So how do you let go and fill the vessel of this moment? You don’t- gravity does. Just as gravity causes the water to descend and fill the cup, there’s an inner “gravity” that will pull down your awareness into the vessel of this moment, if you surrender to it. This surrender comes not from pushing away your fear or trying to get rid of it, but from fully feeling it and transforming it into the cries of prayer. As it says: “I have seen their afflictions and heard their cries…” Meaning: When you fully feel, surrender, and cry out to the One, this revolutionary possibility comes into being: the possibility of realizing that you are the miracle of awareness. You are the Divine who sees, hears and feels all that arises in this moment. This is your own inner perfection, your own Divine potential- to perfectly fill the imperfect manifestation of being as it moves in time. And in your perfect connection with the ever-imperfect manifestation of this moment, it is to bring healing and tikkun to yourself and others through words and acts of love, support, wisdom and understanding. Living your full potential in the present is simple, but not easy. It takes training and practice, just like mastery of any skill requires. Once Rabbi Chaim of Krozno, a disciple of the Baal Shem Tov, was walking through town with his disciples on their way to pray. They came upon a boy, dangerously walking along the edge of a towering stone wall. Rabbi Chaim stopped and became completely engrossed in the boy's antics. “Rabbi,” a disciple queried, “What’s so interesting about that foolish boy that you make us late for prayers?” “This boy,” replied Reb Chaim, “is risking his life and I have no idea why. But I am quite sure he’s not worrying that he might not keep his balance, because if he did, he certainly wouldn't.” On this Shabbat Shemot- the “Sabbath of Names”- may we drop all of our "slave names”- the "bricks" in the wall of fear against which "Pharaoh" seeks to keep us confined. Instead, may we courageously practice walking the razor's edge of the present and fearlessly gaze into the “fire” of our own Divine potential. May we actualize that potential not just for ourselves, but for the sale of freeing the entire world. Amein, Good Shabbos, b yosef Perfectly Imperfect- Parshat Shemot 1/9/2015 2 Comments Pour water into a vessel. Perfectly, it takes the shape of the interior. It does not resist one cranny, one curve, one angle; it simply takes the precise form of the vessel, without hesitation and without effort. How? Through its fluidity and the pull of gravity. Without fluidity, the water would already have its own form, and therefore could not conform. Without gravity, the water would not pour; it would move like smoke through space. Now imagine: the water is alive and the vessel is alive. The vessel, once beautiful, has become twisted, contorted, wounded. It longs to be reshaped; it wants to be healed. The water is intelligent- it contains the knowledge of how to heal this twisted vessel. All it needs to do is to push on the walls of the vessel in just the right way to help it back into a wholesome shape, into its potential beauty. But the water is impatient. In its zeal to fix the vessel, it contracts away from the interior and shapes itself into its idea of the perfected vessel. It pushes on the remaining surface that it touches in attempt to coax the vessel into its own shape, but to no avail. Without complete contact with the entire inside of the vessel, it cannot exert its influence. Now there are two shapes, one distorted and one ideal, with no connection to one another. The water has taken on the imagined ideal of the vessel, but it has lost its perfect connection with the vessel. Now and always we find ourselves in “This”. By “This” I mean the totality of existence as it meets awareness in this moment. Awareness is like water; it is able to perfectly fill and take the shape of This that Is and is Becoming, Now. But awareness is not passive, inanimate water; it is living water. It is intelligent. It sees and responds. It is not only given shape by the vessel, but exerts force, desires to shape. And in its desire to shape the reality it meets, it tends to contract away from the surface. This is the power of mind- to imagine the world as different, and to contract awareness into itself in order to form this image. Awareness contracts, and a sense of self as separate from the rest This is born. And, as a result, this self suffers terribly. There is a hint of this in this week’s reading, Parshat Shemot. It says that the Children of Israel filled the land of Egypt- vatimalei ha’aretz. Who are the Children of Israel? “Israel” means to penetrate the shell of reality to the Divine. To find the Divine is to “fill the land”- to be like water, perfectly conforming to Reality as it arises. But then it says that a new king arose who was afraid of the Children of Israel, afraid that they might become too strong and destroy Egypt. This king, the Pharaoh, is fear. It is the fear of death of the separate “me” that is formed by contracting away from “sides of the vessel”- that is, awareness disconnecting from the fullness of this moment. Pharaoh is the king Mitzrayim- the land of narrowness, the King of Contraction. What is his strategy for survival? He imposes harsh labor on the Children of Israel and attempts to weaken them that way. This is the suffering that comes not from work, but from the tension we bring to our work- the tension of contracting into separateness. At some point, the suffering becomes too great and the Israelites cry out to the Divine “from their labor”. It says that the Divine “saw the Children of Israel, vayeida Elokim- and the Divine knew.” This word for “knew”- yeida- means to “join with”. It is the same verb used to describe the intimate union of Adam and Eve. It is telling us- when our suffering becomes the cry of prayer, the awareness that is our Divinity within can again become fluid like water, re-joining in the fullness of presence with the presence of fullness- Reality as it arises, Now. How do you make this happen? You don’t; gravity does. “Gravity” is the natural movement of awareness to fill this moment with its presence, once it surrenders its separateness. When we express our suffering in the cry of prayer, there can be this profound release. This release doesn’t destroy our vision for the future. It doesn’t deny the pressure we must exert on the walls of the vessel. It simply releases the contraction away from the walls and returns us to our own wholeness, our own perfection. This is your own inner perfection, your own Divinity, right Now: to perfectly fill the ever-imperfect manifestation of being as it moves Now. In this is the release of all inner tension, the release of the whole drama of the “me” in the world. And, it is the birth of the Divine as it expresses Itself through you, as it is needed, Now. It is the inner Moses, whose name means “drawn from the water”… And this is also the sacred promise of Shabbos- to separate from Pharaoh’s crushing labor for twenty-five hours and become fluid once again, to surrender to the gravity of wholeness, for the Divine to be born within. So it may be, Now, for us all- Good Shabbos.
The Hasidic rebbe, Rabbi Yitzhak Eisik, had an ailment which caused him tremendous pain. And yet, his pain wasn’t noticeable from looking at him; never did he show that he suffered any agony. Once, his physician asked him, “How is it that you can endure such pain without complaining or groaning?”
“You would understand,” replied the rebbe, “if you thought of pain as scrubbing and purifying the soul in a strong solution. When you understand it that way, what can you do but accept it with love and without grumbling? And with practice, you can build the strength to endure any present pain. After all, one need only be concerned with the moment – all pain from the past is no longer present, and who would be so foolish as to worry about pain that hasn’t happened yet?” The ability to transcend pain is one of the most powerful fruits of spiritual practice. This power is represented by the letter aleph, and is associated with the middot (qualities) of “equanimity” and “integrity.” But this is not the equanimity of detachment or lack of feeling; it is just the opposite. The aleph represents the singularity of consciousness, the vast field of awareness within which arises both pleasure and pain, joy and sorrow, fulfilment and loss, and so on. All of these polarities of experience are deeply felt, but they are felt within the unitary, open space of awareness. In knowing oneself as this openness, one tastes both the sweetness and the bitterness, but the polarities of experience are no longer seductive or dramatic; they are no longer compelling. They are simply the coming and going of qualities within the inner spaciousness that we are, and this spaciousness is infinitely more vast than any particular experience. There is a mishna hints at this power: רַבִּי יַנַּאי אוֹמֵר, אֵין בְּיָדֵינוּ לֹא מִשַּׁלְוַת הָרְשָׁעִים וְאַף לֹא מִיִּסּוּרֵי הַצַּדִּיקִים Rabbi Yannai said: it is not in our hands [to explain the reason] either the tranquility of the wicked or the afflictions of the righteous…
On the surface, this mishna is expressing that old and tired philosophical and religious dilemma: why do good things happen to bad people, and why do bad things happen to good people? But on a deeper level, it is actually giving us an entryway into aleph, into being the space within which the שלוה shalvah (tranquility) and the יסורין yisurin (afflictions) both arise and disappear: אֵין בְּיָדֵינוּ – ayn b’yadaynu – it is not in our hands… When we recognize that the experience of this moment is not something we can control at all, that it is simply what is, we take the perspective of our essence – the space of awareness that simply perceives, prior to the judging activity of thought and emotion. This does not contradict the fact that we can and must take responsibility for our actions, so as to not create unnecessary suffering for the next moment; it is only to say that in this moment, the present experience is already here. If we first of all accept it, we can use it to transcend it; this is the purification that Rabbi Yizhak Eisik was talking about. Moreover, when we cease to view our יסורין yisurin as a problem, we will not be grasping after external things to make us feel better. We will not be tempted to cheat, steal, or act out of integrity in our dealings with our fellow beings. לֹ֤א תַסִּיג֙ גְּב֣וּל רֵֽעֲךָ֔ Lo tasig g’vul rei’akha – You shall not move your neighbor’s landmarks…
This mitzvah of not cheating our neighbors by respecting boundaries is an outer expression of the quality of aleph; when we know the strength and boundlessness of our own being, we need not forsake our integrity to get just a little more land, a little more money, and so on. When we know the strength and boundlessness of our own being, then our pain becomes like the יִּסּוּרֵי הַצַּדִּיקִים – yisurei hatzadikim – the afflictions of the righteous. This week’s parshah finishes Sefer Bereisheet, the Book of Genesis, and also finishes the Yosef cycle. In the tradition, Yosef is often called HaTzadik, the “perfected one” or “righteous one,” because he perfectly embodies this quality of accepting and transcending all suffering. Earlier in the story, Yosef told his brothers not to be distressed about their having wronged him. He explains that it was all part of the Divine intelligence that he should be brought to Egypt in order to save them from the famine. In this parshah, their father Yaakov/Yisrael dies, and the brothers bring him back to Canaan to bury him in the Cave of Machpelah, along with Avraham, Sarah, Yitzhak, Rifka, and Leah. Afterward, the brothers again become distressed, worrying that perhaps now that their father is dead, Yosef might take his revenge on them: וַיֵּלְכוּ֙ גַּם־אֶחָ֔יו וַֽיִּפְּל֖וּ לְפָנָ֑יו וַיֹּ֣אמְר֔וּ הִנֶּ֥נּֽוּ לְךָ֖ לַעֲבָדִֽים׃ His brothers went and fell before him, and said, “We are ready to be your slaves.” וַיֹּ֧אמֶר אֲלֵהֶ֛ם יוֹסֵ֖ף אַל־תִּירָ֑אוּ כִּ֛י הֲתַ֥חַת אֱלֹהִ֖ים אָֽנִי׃ But Joseph said to them, “Do not fear, for am I instead Elohim? וְאַתֶּ֕ם חֲשַׁבְתֶּ֥ם עָלַ֖י רָעָ֑ה אֱלֹהִים֙ חֲשָׁבָ֣הּ לְטֹבָ֔ה לְמַ֗עַן עֲשֹׂ֛ה כַּיּ֥וֹם הַזֶּ֖ה לְהַחֲיֹ֥ת עַם־רָֽב׃ Although you intended me harm, Elohim intended it for good, in order to do, as it is on this day, to keep many people alive…
This is Yosef’s integrity – that he doesn’t hold a grudge, but accepts everything from the “hands of God,” which is another way of expressing the teaching in the above mishna: אֵין בְּיָדֵינוּ – ayn b’yadaynu – it is not in our hands… In other words, Yosef doesn’t hold a grudge because he is relating to Reality as God, rather than as something to be judged and manipulated. Judging and manipulating would be the activity of the ordinary, ego self – the sense of “me” that does not know how to receive the moment as it is. This is expressed beautifully in the pasuk: וַיֹּ֧אמֶר אֲלֵהֶ֛ם יוֹסֵ֖ף אַל־תִּירָ֑אוּ כִּ֛י הֲתַ֥חַת אֱלֹהִ֖ים אָֽנִי׃ But Joseph said to them, “Do not fear, for am I instead Elohim? Another way to read this would be, “Don’t fear, because takhat אֱלֹהִ֖ים Elohim אָֽנִי ani –the “I” is underneath the Divine…” When the alef of our ani, the open space of awareness that we are, opens to allow this moment to be as it is, then we can access the Alef of Elohim, the Divine Reality that removes all fear and reveals the miraculous intelligence that is behind and unfolds within all happening…
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The Dog Hair – Parshat Vayekhi
1/6/2020 0 Comments When we’re about to sweep and mop the dining room floor in our house, I like to put the dog outside first. Why? Our dog sheds an uncannily huge amount of hair (a fact of which we were unaware when we took her in). If we didn’t put her outside during cleaning, there would be no point at which the floor would actually be clean, because the dog would be constantly dropping more and more hair on it as we cleaned it. And yet, what even is the point? As soon as we let the dog back in, the floor will start getting coated with hair again. מַה־יִּתְר֖וֹן לָֽאָדָ֑ם בְּכָל־עֲמָל֔וֹ שֶֽׁיַּעֲמֹ֖ל תַּ֥חַת הַשָּֽׁמֶשׁ׃ What gain is there for a person in all their work that they labor under the sun? (Ecclesiastes 1:3) The point, of course, is that it’s nice to experience a clean floor, even if just for a short time. If you thought that by cleaning the floor it would somehow stay clean forever, that would be הֶ֖בֶל וּרְע֥וּת רֽוּחַ hevel ur’ut ruakh – “vanity and striving after wind.” But if you value the temporary yet regularly recurring experience of a clean floor, it’s perfectly worth it to get out the broom! And so it is with our spiritual life. Just like the dining room, our inner world also has a “floor” that gets “dirty.” Meaning, there is root, an essence, a basic level to our beingness, that gets overlaid with thoughts, feelings, emotions, impressions, memories, ideas, opinions, and all kinds of experiences. That basic level is awareness itself – it is the simple miracle of perception, beneath and beyond our person-hood. Most people never realize that there’s a difference between the “floor” and the “hair” – they never experience their own being in a pure way, and so life is assumed to be nothing but a tapestry of the overlay. But the miracle of meditation is that it “sweeps the floor” and reveals the essence beneath; that essence is spacious, free, creative, benevolent and inherently joyful. It’s true, when we move from meditation back into the flow of life, awareness is bound to get “dirty” again. But that’s okay – when you know yourself as that pure awareness, you don’t need to be fooled by the “dirt.” You have seen the “clean floor” with your own eyes, and you can sweep it again, any time! In fact, it is only because our awareness becomes overlaid with all kinds of experience that we are able to fully recognize our deepest nature. When we were infants, our awareness was fresh, pure and innocent, but we had no appreciation for it, no recognition of the beauty within our own being. Of course, adults could recognize it – that’s why people love babies! But babies don’t recognize their own beauty. Only after we become adults, after our innocence seems to be lost, can we re-discover our essential innocence and appreciate it for the first time. We make think our innocence is long gone, but sweep the floor and see – it has never gone anywhere. At the root of all experience, beneath all the overlay – we are that freshness, that innocence, that open aliveness. Life is not easy – its trials and tribulations, consisting of both what happens to us and of the misdeeds we commit, accrue over time and become heavy burdens, burdens which we may not even recognize until we experience freedom from them. But when we do, when we finally come to know the freedom that we are beneath all that accumulated past, the curse of the burden is no longer really a curse; it is, in fact, a blessing. It is a blessing because without it, without the pain that life gives us, there cannot be a full knowing of who we are beneath the pain. Without the pain that life gives us, there can be neither the wisdom nor the experience we need to help others discover their essence as well. There is a hint of this in the parshah: כָּל־אֵ֛לֶּה שִׁבְטֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל שְׁנֵ֣ים עָשָׂ֑ר וְ֠זֹאת אֲשֶׁר־דִּבֶּ֨ר לָהֶ֤ם אֲבִיהֶם֙ וַיְבָ֣רֶךְ אוֹתָ֔ם אִ֛ישׁ אֲשֶׁ֥ר כְּבִרְכָת֖וֹ בֵּרַ֥ךְ אֹתָֽם׃ All these were the tribes of Israel – twelve – and this is what their father said to them as he blessed them, each according to their blessing, he blessed them. (Genesis 49:28) He “blessed” them? But to at least half of them he delivered curses: Shimon and Levi are a pair; their weapons are tools of lawlessness. Cursed be their anger so fierce, And their wrath so relentless. I will divide them in Jacob, scatter them in Israel… Issachar is a strong-boned ass, crouching among the sheep… He bent his shoulder to the burden, and became a toiling serf… Gad shall be raided by raiders… Joseph is a wild ass… Archers bitterly assailed him; They shot at him and harried him…. But that’s the point: the “curses” are in fact the blessings, because it is through the pain of life experience that our true path of blessing is revealed. That’s why it says he “blessed them according to their blessings” – each of them had their own pain, their own “curses” that became their ultimate blessings. This is most clearly expressed in the story of Joseph, that through his tremendous suffering, masses of people were saved, as Joseph says to his brothers: וְאַתֶּ֕ם חֲשַׁבְתֶּ֥ם עָלַ֖י רָעָ֑ה אֱלֹהִים֙ חֲשָׁבָ֣הּ לְטֹבָ֔ה לְמַ֗עַן עֲשֹׂ֛ה כַּיּ֥וֹם הַזֶּ֖ה לְהַחֲיֹ֥ת עַם־רָֽב׃ You intended me harm, but the Divine intended it for good, so as to bring about as it is today – to bring life to many people. (Genesis 50:20) And even deeper – whatever pain and negativity come from the past, עֲשֹׂ֛ה כַּיּ֥וֹם הַזֶּ֖ה – asoh kayom hazeh – to bring about as it is today – meaning, this moment is as it is because of what has come before. And in the embrace of this moment as it is, לְהַחֲיֹ֥ת עַם־רָֽב – the essential life beneath all pain is revealed as the vastness beyond person-hood… Spiritual Double Take – Parshat Vayekhi 12/20/2018 1 Comment The moment you wish to awaken, you have already awoken to a certain degree. That’s because the desire to awaken can’t even arise at all unless there is already a certain amount of objectivity on your thoughts and feelings. Even if you feel like you are failing, even if you feel that your mind is too busy, or you feel emotionally reactive or whatever, your awareness of that is already a movement in the direction of wakefulness. The key is to use the wakefulness you already have to deepen your wakefulness further, rather than focusing on how not-awake you are: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה’ ... הַמַּעֲבִיר שֵׁנָה מֵעֵינַי Blessed are You, Hashem… who removes sleep from my eyes… This morning blessing gives thanks for waking up from sleep, but on a deeper level, it’s appreciating the tremendous grace we’re receiving just for being awake enough to say the prayer at all! A little later the prayer says: וְדַבְּקֵנוּ בְּמִצְותֶיךָ And attach us to your mitzvot (commandments)… Traditionally speaking, the mitzvot, commandments, are the actions that the Divine “wants” us to do. So to do a mitzvah, in this traditional view, is to fulfill the meaning of your existence. The deeper desire expressed in this prayer, then, is the longing for meaning: Help me be motivated to fulfill my purpose! This desire for meaning, for purpose, is core to the spiritual drive. But, it is only half of the equation. A little further on it says: וְאַל תַּשְׁלֶט בָּנוּ יֵצֶר הָרָע And don’t let the yetzer hara (personal impulses, literally the “bad desire”) rule within us… The other half of the equation is the desire for freedom, for transcendence. These two core desires that drive the spiritual path are, in a sense, the opposite of one another. The first wants to transform the world; the second wants to transcend the world. The first wants fulfill one’s role; the second wants to be liberated from all roles. The first wants to serve the Divine; the second wants to realize that All is Divine. These two core desires are the opposite of one another, but they are not opposed to one another. In Kabbalah and Hassidic teaching, they must work together. You cannot really serve the Divine if you don’t awaken your own inner Divinity. You cannot really transform anything for the better, if you’re emotionally attached to things being a certain way. In Kabbalah, this is called ratz v’shuv – running and returning. In meditation, we “run” – we transcend every particular aspect of experience and know ourselves as the ayin, the Nothing, the open space of this moment within which everything arises. In prayer, we “return” – we appreciate particular things and give thanks; we envision transformation and ask the Divine for help in its manifestation. On a broader level, all spiritual practices, including both prayer and meditation, are a kind of “running” and our ordinary work and life with people is “returning.” In Judaism, both are necessary. This theme manifests at all levels of the tradition: Liberation from Egypt, followed by building the Sanctuary. Or, in the opposite order: six days of working the world, followed by a full day of letting everything be as it is onShabbat. And, in this last example, we see the emphasis unique to Judaism: Six days of work, one day of rest – both are necessary, but transformation is emphasized. In many traditions, it’s the opposite; the holy person is the one who withdraws from the world. But in Judaism, withdraw and transcendence, while absolutely necessary, are not the goal. These two poles are represented by Joseph’s two sons, Menasheh and Ephraim.Menasheh comes from leaving the past behind – transcending the world: וַיִּקְרָ֥א יוֹסֵ֛ף אֶת־שֵׁ֥ם הַבְּכ֖וֹר מְנַשֶּׁ֑ה כִּֽי־נַשַּׁ֤נִי אֱלֹהִים֙ אֶת־כָּל־עֲמָלִ֔י וְאֵ֖ת כָּל־בֵּ֥ית אָבִֽי And Joseph named the firstborn Menasheh, for "God has caused me to forget all my toil and all my father's house." But Ephraim comes from being “fruitful” – that is, successful – in the world: וְאֵ֛ת שֵׁ֥ם הַשֵּׁנִ֖י קָרָ֣א אֶפְרָ֑יִם כִּֽי־הִפְרַ֥נִי אֱלֹהִ֖ים בְּאֶ֥רֶץ עָנְיִֽי And the second one he named Ephraim, for “God has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction.” Menasheh is the first born, hinting at the usual way that spirituality is viewed: transcendence is primary. But when Jacob blesses the two boys, he switches his hands to give the blessing of the first born to Ephraim instead: וַיִּשְׁלַח֩ יִשְׂרָאֵ֨ל אֶת־יְמִינ֜וֹ וַיָּ֨שֶׁת עַל־רֹ֤אשׁ אֶפְרַ֨יִם֙ וְה֣וּא הַצָּעִ֔יר וְאֶת־שְׂמֹאל֖וֹ עַל־רֹ֣אשׁ מְנַשֶּׁ֑ה But Israel stretched out his right hand and placed [it] on Ephraim's head, although he was the younger, and his left hand [he placed] on Manasheh's head… This is why the traditional blessing for boys on Friday nights puts Ephraim first, even though Menasheh was first born – Y’simkha Elohim k’Ephraim v’k’Menasheh! Transformation is the goal (Ephraim), but to achieve that goal, transcendence is also necessary (Menasheh). This is a basic key to living in awakened life: being involved, helping, serving, creating, but also letting go at the same time – accepting everything as it is, not trying to control anything, being the simple, open space of consciousness within which this moment arises. I call this the Spiritual Double-Take. The Double-Take is really not double; it is the simple, single move of Presence. But until it becomes integrated into the way we operate, it requires this ratz v’shuv attitude, this oscillation back and forth between effort and letting go. Eventually, this awakens a sense of effortless effort, of acting in the world without any sense of the “me” doing the acting. As Joseph responded to Pharaoh when asked if he could interpret Pharaoh’s dream: בִּלְעָדָ֑י אֱלֹהִ֕ים יַֽעֲנֶ֖ה – Biladi, Elohim ya’aneh! – It is totally beyond me, but the Divine will answer! There is nothing but the Divine manifesting in all forms, and so from this awakened point of view, there need not be any tension whatsoever – life simply unfolds effortlessly. So may it be for us, amein! Good Shabbos! Die Before You Die – Parshat Vayekhi 12/28/2017 0 Comments This week’s reading begins, “Vayekhi Ya’akov b’eretz Mitzrayim – Jacob lived in the land of Egypt for seventeen years…” The last time we heard about “seventeen years” was back in Parshat Vayeishev, where Joseph is described as a na’ar – a seventeen-year-old youth. Seventeen, then, symbolizes youthfulness. Joseph is the embodiment of youthfulness: he is both beloved and hated, he has BIG and unrealistic seeming dreams, and he has no common sense about how to get along with his brothers. Egypt, on the other hand, means limitation, suffering, constricted-ness (Egypt is Mitzrayim, from tzar,which means “narrow). The youthful Joseph must first get enslaved in Egypt before his eventual ascent to Egyptian royalty. Similarly, the youthfulness in each of us gets constricted by the limitations and conditioning of our physical bodies, families and culture. And yet, we need not be burdened by the temporary challenges of life. Like Joseph, we can be like cream – always “rising to the top” – if we can really let go of resistance to all our seeming limitations as they appear. Ironically, this “letting go” isn’t really a quality of youthfulness, but of old age. As we get older and approach the ultimate Letting Go, it’s natural for attachments to fall away. This is hinted at in the blessing Jacob gives to Joseph’s two sons, Menasheh and Ephraim. Menasheh means “forgetting troubles,” hinting at old age, which is fitting since Menasheh is the elder. Ephraim means “fruitfulness,” which is fitting for the younger brother. But Jacob deliberately switches his hands, giving the blessing of the elder to the younger, which is why the traditional blessing for boys is that they should be like Ephraim and Menasheh, and not the other way around, as if to say: Let go of your troubles while you are still fruitful! Die before you die! On this Shabbat Vayekhi, the Sabbath of Life, may we recognize the precious opportunity we have while we’re alive, to die before we die, to get free now, in this life. Good Shabbos! Getting Real in the Trader Joe’s Parking Lot- Parshat Vayekhi 12/24/2015 6 Comments Last Friday afternoon I went to pick up some kosher wine at Trader Joe’s. (Less than $5 for a cabernet and not too bad!) I pulled into the narrow entrance of the indoor parking lot and saw a woman getting into her car, so I paused to let her pull out so that I could take her spot. Just then, a niggun (melody) came to me. I thought it would be great to sing in the service I was leading that night, so I pulled out my iPhone to record it and send out to the other service leaders. Just then, I heard an angry voice yelling at me- “What the hell are you doing?? Look at you sitting there on your phone- backing up traffic!!” An older man was tensely yelling and walking toward me. I thought he might burst a blood vessel! I ignored him at first, but he kept walking right up to my car. I rolled down the window a little and explained, “I’m waiting for this car to pull out so I can pull in.” “What about that spot??” he yelled and gestured. There was another open spot behind me, but I couldn’t pull in since there were now several cars blocking the way. Due to the angle of the turn, it wasn’t visible when I had first pulled in. “Oh okay, I didn’t see that,” I said. “Aaagghh!” he gestured angrily and stormed away. Now, as far as I know, pausing and holding up traffic for a few moments in order to allow someone to pull out of their parking spot is kosher. But to this guy, I was clearly in the wrong, and he was letting me have it. Why? I assume it’s because he thought I was talking on the cell phone while driving, which really triggered him. As happens to folks so often, his mind judged something external (me) and then lost all self-awareness and composure. He became a jerk because he was convinced that I was a jerk. At such moments of being triggered, people are often swept away by emotion. All the positive middot- wisdom, sensitivity, awareness, compassion and so on- are out the window. How often do you experience such moments? Is it possible to take another path? Can triggered emotion actually be put to good use? Back in 1998, during a radically transformative time of my life, I had such an experience: I was driving, when a car violently cut me off at an intersection. I gasped, adrenalin pumping. I felt the heat of anger swelling within me, and the urge to retaliate and curse the guy behind the wheel. Then, the thought occurred to me that this moment of being triggered was the moment to be present. I brought my awareness deep into the feeling of the anger. It burned within me, and it was extremely painful. Next, I felt it move upward through my body and out the top of my head. It was like a huge cloud of darkness left me. As the last of it left my body, everything looked totally different. The road glistened with moisture from a recent rain and the sound of a bird’s caw filled the sky. I began to see that driver in a completely different way. He wasn’t against me- he was actually setting me free! It left me feeling raw, simple, innocent and at peace. The truth is, the human nervous system is a heaven/hell engine. Of course we want the heaven and not the hell. But, if you really want heaven to be born within you, the key is to not resist the hell. Like physical birth, there is pain in birthing heaven. If you’re willing to open to this pain, it can serve its function- to set you free. As in the birth of a child, it’s ultimately a blessing. This week’s reading, Parshat Vayekhi, is the last reading of the book of Genesis. Jacob is dying, and he calls his son Joseph to bring him his two grandsons, so that he can bless them before he dies. Joseph arranges his sons with the older brother Menasheh at Jacob’s right hand and the younger brother Ephraim at Jacob’s left. This way, the older will get the blessing of the first born from Jacob’s right hand, as was the custom. However, Jacob reverses his hands, putting his right hand on Ephraim’s head instead. Then he says: “By you shall Israel bless, saying, ‘May the Divine make you like Ephraim and Menasheh.’” Today, there is a tradition for parents to bless their boys on Friday nights with these words. Girls are blessed with the names of the matriarchs. Why does Jacob switch his hands and reverse the order? What’s so special about Ephraim and Menasheh that boys should be blessed with their names, rather than the names of the patriarchs? Let’s go back a few readings to Parshat Mikeitz, when Joseph names his sons. He names his first-born son Menasheh because, he says, “The Divine has made me forget (Nashani) my troubles”. He names the second son Ephraim because- “The Divine has made me fruitful (Hifrani) in the land of my suffering”. These two names actually map out the process of spiritual awakening and the birth of the inner heaven: First, there must be an intensification of awareness in the body, an anchoring of the mind in the present. This, by necessity, entails a surrendering of mental preoccupation with the past and the suffering created by that. In other words, the “troubles”, are “forgotten.” This is Menasheh. “Forgetting troubles” opens a new space in one’s consciousness that was previously taken up by excessive thinking. After that space has opened up, the spiritual “fruit” can be born within- the inner Light of joy, freedom and bliss- the inner heaven. This is Ephraim. But, as Joseph said, “The Divine has made me fruitful in the land of my suffering.” In order for this inner Light to come forth, one must first feel fully any emotional pain that has previously been blocked. Most people have a good amount of suppressed pain from a lifetime of difficult experiences. When feelings are unpleasant, we naturally want to avoid them. We can become expert at putting up inner barriers so we don’t have to feel them. But those inner barriers take energy. They block us from feeling our own aliveness and from the life of this moment. They impede the blossoming of heaven on earth. But open to the blocked pain, and the blockages begin melting away. When you do, you may want to turn back. It’s easy to forget the good that lies at the other end. Perhaps this is why Jacob reversed his hands, putting Efraim first in the formula- “Y’simkha Elokim k’Efraim v’kh’Menashe- “May the Divine make you like Efraim and Menashe!” In other words, remember that the “fruit” is the point. You won’t have to walk through hell eternally. Contrary to the Christian fundamentalists, the hell fires do burn themselves out eventually, if you feel them fully. There is another hint of this in the verb Joseph uses when he says that the Divine made him “forget- Nashani”- his troubles. The verb root is Nun-Shin-Heh. Besides the meaning “to cause one to forget”, this verb also means, “to feminize”. In classical symbolism, “feminine” means “receptive”. It is the opposite of aggressiveness, which is often characterized as masculine. Perhaps this is why the blessing of Efraim and Menashe has traditionally been used for boys. If you truly wish to awaken, you need to temper the “masculine” activity of inner conflict with the “feminine” quality of openness. In this openness, you may have to suffer the pain that emerges, but it will pass, and its fire will transform you. Like the fiery sword that guards the Garden of Eden, you must pass through, allowing it to slay all that is false. There’s a Hassidic story of the brothers Rabbi Shmelky of Nicholsberg and Rabbi Pinkhas of Koretz. They were greatly troubled by a passage in the Mishna (Berakhot 9:5) that says one should say a blessing for bad things that happen as well as for good things. They came to their master Rabbi Dov Bear, the Maggid of Mezrich, and asked him- “Our sages teach that we should praise and thank Hashem for the bad well as the good. How can we understand this? Wouldn’t it be insincere to give thanks for suffering?” The Maggid replied, “Go to the House of Study. There you will find Reb Zusha smoking his pipe. He will give you the answer.” When they arrived at the House of Study they found Reb Zusha and put their question to him. Reb Zusha simply laughed and said, “I think you’ve made a mistake coming to me. You had better go find someone else, because I myself have never experienced anything bad!” The two brothers were taken aback. They knew that Reb Zusha’s life was riddled with poverty and misfortune. Then, they began to realize what Zusha was saying: He didn’t see his suffering as “bad”. Zusha's suffering had transformed him into the ecstatic saint he was. On this Shabbat Vay’khi, The Shabbat of Life, let’s open to life as it is in its fullness, with its joy and suffering. And when life brings you suffering, let it be a pointed reminder to once again become present, to allow the pain to break open your heart and reveal the light within. Rather than judge, snap or plot, let that light come through you in a word of kindness or act of service. And if the response you are called to give is harsh, let it be strong and clear- but without anger and malice. Good Shabbos! -brian yosef I Have Never Suffered In My Life- Parshat Vayekhi 1/1/2015 2 Comments There is a Hassidic story of the saintly brothers Rabbi Shmelky of Nicholsberg and Rabbi Pinkhas of Koretz. They were greatly troubled by a passage in the Mishna (9:5) that says one should say a blessing for bad things that happen as well as good. They came to their master Rabbi Dov Bear, the Maggid of Mezrich, and asked him, “Our sages teach that we should praise and thank Hashem for the bad well as the good. How can we understand this? Wouldn’t it be insincere to give thanks for our suffering? The Maggid replied, “Go to the House of Study. There you will find Reb Zusha smoking his pipe. He will give you the answer.” When they arrived at the House of Study they found Reb Zusha and put their question to him. Reb Zusha simply laughed and said, “I think you’ve made a mistake coming to me. You had better go find someone else, because I myself have never experienced suffering in all my life.” At first, the two brothers were taken aback. They knew that Reb Zusha’s life was riddled with poverty and misfortune. Then, they realized- Zusha had a very different relationship with his “suffering”. The human nervous system is a Heaven/Hell engine. Which one will your engine produce? The whole purpose of the spiritual path is to produce Heaven, for Heaven to be born within. To do this requires not just conscious choice, but also commitment. The moment you make this commitment, you are on the Path. You need commitment because there is a common pitfall. If you wish to have Heaven and not Hell, you may think that you can somehow avoid the Hell, avoid the suffering. But, like physical birth, there is pain in birthing Heaven. A person must be willing to endure this pain, to get to the other side- to walk through Hell to get to Heaven. Without commitment, you are likely to give up at this point. But if you persevere, the pain of suffering begins to look entirely different. As in the birth of a child, it is ultimately a blessing. This week’s reading, Parshat Vayekhi, is the last reading of the book of Genesis. Jacob is dying, and he calls his son Joseph to bring his two sons to him, that he may bless them before he dies. Joseph arranges his sons with the older brother Menashe at Jacob’s right hand and the younger brother Efraim at Jacob’s left. This way, the older will get the blessing of the first born from Jacob’s right hand, as was the custom. However, Jacob reverses his hands, putting his right hand on Ephraim’s head instead. He then blesses the boys with the words- “By you shall Israel bless, saying, ‘May the Divine make you like Efraim and Menashe.’” Today, there is a tradition for parents to bless their boy children on Shabbat with these words. Why does Jacob switch his hands and reverse the order? What is so special about Efraim and Menashe that they should become the paradigm for blessing boys? Let’s go back a few readings to Parshat Mikeitz, when Joseph names his sons. He names his first-born son Menasheh because, he says, “The Divine has made me forget (Nashani) my troubles”. He names the second son Efraim because “The Divine has made me fruitful (Hifrani) in the land of my suffering”. These two names actually describe the process of spiritual awakening and the birth of the inner Heaven. First there must be an intensification of awareness in the body, an anchoring of the mind in the present. This, by necessity, entails a surrendering of mental preoccupation with the past and the suffering that is created by this type of thought. The ordinary worries of the mind, the “troubles”, are “forgotten”. This opens a new space in one’s consciousness that was previously taken up by excessive thinking. After that space has opened up, the spiritual “fruit” can be born within- the inner Light of joy, freedom and bliss- the inner Heaven. But, as the verse says, “The Divine has made me fruitful in the land of my suffering.” In order for this inner Light to come forth, one must first feel fully any emotional pain that has previously been blocked. Most people have a good amount of suppressed pain from a lifetime of difficult experiences. When feelings are unpleasant, we naturally want to avoid them. We can become expert at putting up inner barriers so we don’t have to feel them. But those inner barriers take energy. They divide us internally and block us from our own life energy and from life as it is happening in this moment. They block the blossoming of Heaven on Earth. When you begin to open to this inner suffering, you may want to turn back. It’s easy to forget the good that lies at the other end. Perhaps this is why Jacob reversed his hands, putting Efraim first in the formula- “y’simkha Elokim k’Efraim v’kh’Menashe- may the Divine make you like Efraim and Menashe”. In other words, remember that the “fruit” is the point. You won’t have to walk through Hell eternally. Contrary to the Christian fundamentalists, the Hell fires do burn themselves out eventually, if you feel them fully. This means becoming deeply open to whatever arises in your field of awareness as your consciousness comes to dwell within your body, in your heart, in the present. There is another hint of this in the verb Joseph uses when he says that the Divine made him “forget- Nashani”- his troubles. The verb root is Nun-Shin-Heh. Besides the meaning “to cause one to forget”, this verb also means, “to feminize”. In classical symbolism, “feminine” means “receptive”. It is the opposite of aggressiveness, which is often characterized as masculine. Perhaps this is why the blessing of Efraim and Menashe has traditionally been used for boys. If you truly wish to awaken, you need to temper the “masculine” activity of inner conflict with the “feminine” quality of openness. In this openness, you may have to suffer the pain that emerges, but it will pass, and its fire will transform you. Like the fiery sword that guards the Garden of Eden, you must pass through, allowing it to slay all that is false. Jacob gives his blessing on the threshold of the Book of Exodus, where his descendents descend into the suffering of slavery, only to be saved and brought into freedom with the Divine Presence. May we all receive this instruction and with it the faith and commitment to walk through the fires of whatever “hell” emerges in service of the Divine Presence that wants to be born through each of us. Amein, Good Shabbos!
There is a story that Rabbi Shmelke and his brother were once learning a passage of Mishna:
חַיָּב אָדָם לְבָרֵךְ עַל הָרָעָה כְּשֵׁם שֶׁהוּא מְבָרֵךְ עַל הַטּוֹבָה, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר וְאָהַבְתָּ אֵת יְיָ אֱלֹהֶיךָ בְּכָל לְבָבְךָ וּבְכָל נַפְשְׁךָ וּבְכָל מְאֹדֶךָ One must bless for the bad in the same way as one blesses for the good, as it says, “And you shall love Hashem your God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your might”… (Deuteronomy 6:5)
This passage greatly distressed them, as they thought, “How can we possibly give praise and thanks for hardship and suffering as we do for our wellbeing?” So, they brought their dilemma to their master, Rabbi Dov Ber, the Maggid of Mezritch. “Go ask Reb Zusha,” replied the Maggid, “You will find him in the beit midrash (the house of study) smoking his pipe.” So, they went and found Reb Zusha, merrily smoking his pipe and chanting verses of sacred text. When they put their question to him, he just laughed and replied, “Ha! You certainly have come to the wrong man! If you want to know how to give thanks for bad things, you must find someone who has experienced something bad! I, unfortunately, have never experienced anything bad in my life, so I cannot help you.” The brothers were awestruck and speechless, because they knew Reb Zusha’s life had been a web of poverty and anguish. But gradually they began to realize – the answer had to with the way Zusha received suffering; he received suffering with love. The Hasidic master, Rabbi Tzadok ha-Kohen Rabinowitz of Lublin (1823 – 1900), taught: “If you want to understand the spiritual meaning of a Hebrew letter, look at the first word in the Torah that begins with that letter…” We find the first instance of א aleph in the first verse of the Torah: בְּרֵאשִׁ֖ית בָּרָ֣א אֱלֹהִ֑ים אֵ֥ת הַשָּׁמַ֖יִם וְאֵ֥ת הָאָֽרֶץ׃ Bereisheet bara Elohim et hashamayim v’et ha’aretz In the beginning of אֱלֹהִים Elohim creating the heavens and the earth…
This first instance of aleph is the Divine Name, אֱלֹהִים – Elohim. As a Name of God, Elohim is remarkable, in that it is a plural word – it actually means “gods.” But, the verb create is conjugated in the singular – בָּרָא אֱלֹהִים – bara Elohim; it is as if we were to say in English, “Gods is creating.” We wouldn’t say that; we would say “gods are creating.” By saying “is,” singularity is implied in the plural word. In this way, the very first sentence of the Torah gives a message to the dominant polytheistic culture in which the Torah appeared: “The deities you worship are actually a singular Reality.” Furthermore, Elohim can also mean “mighty ones” or “judges,” and for this reason, Elohim is associated with might and power. Accordingly, in Kabbalah, Elohim is associated with the sefirah of Gevurah (Strength) on the Tree of Life. In addition, one of the meanings of aleph is “ox,” also reinforcing this sense of might and strength. From all of this, we can begin to get a picture of the inner meaning of aleph: aleph has to do with the inner strength it takes to be unified in oneself, to be singular, uncomplicated, un-self-contradictory. There are two levels of unity in a person – inner and outer unity. Inner unity is something that we already are on the deepest level; there is always already only one experience happening right now. Our present experience is multifaceted and constantly changing, but all the content of experience is appearing and disappearing within the one space of consciousness. We are already that space of consciousness on the deepest level; there is nothing we have to do to achieve this deepest oneness of being. According to the Kabbalist Rabbi Isaac Luria, known as the Arizal, this inner unity is represented by the form of the aleph – a letter ו vav in the middle with a י yod on top and a י yod on the bottom. The letter ו vav, when appearing as a prefix to a word, means “and.” The upper י yod represents the “waters of joy” and the lower י yod represents the “waters of bitterness.” In this way, the form of the aleph embodies the attitude of saying “yes” to bitterness and sweetness, to the full spectrum of experience that appears and disappears. Again, this is already what consciousness does; at the level of awareness, we are simply aware of whatever appears; it is only at the level of thought and feeling that we judge good and bad, what we like and what we don’t like. So, the practice of aleph on this level is the recognition that we are not essentially our thoughts and feelings; we are the open space that transcends thoughts and feelings. As we rest in this recognition, our sense of self shifts its center from identification with thoughts and feelings (ego) to the singular space of awareness, the space of aleph; this is meditation. Outer unity, on the other hand, is not something we automatically have; it is something we must forge through the power of intention and decisiveness. Outer unity means being trustworthy, and not self-sabotaging. It means that once we choose a path, we don’t keep going back in our minds to the other path; it means giving up on all what-ifs, giving up on all resentments and grudges. It means being one in how we think, speak and act. It means having integrity. Accordingly, the mitzvah of aleph is the mitzvah of integrity: Don’t cheat. לֹא־תַעֲשׂ֥וּ עָ֖וֶל בַּמִּשְׁפָּ֑ט בַּמִּדָּ֕ה בַּמִּשְׁקָ֖ל וּבַמְּשׂוּרָֽה׃ You shall not do injustice in judgement, in quality, in weight, or in measure.
The plain meaning here is aimed at merchants – don’t cheat your customers. When you weigh out the stuff you are selling, use a true scale and give people what they pay for. But on a deeper level, it also means: don’t cheat yourself. You have this limited time on this planet, in this body. What is your commitment to your practice, to your learning? Know what it is and stay true to it; don’t cheat yourself. It is difficult to forge outer unity without awareness of our inner unity. Experientially knowing our inner unity is what allows us to be free, to not be caught by the many contradictory thoughts and impulses that arise. This is why meditation is so important – not merely because it creates a feeling of peace and spaciousness, but because it shows us that we are spaciousness. And from that realization, the path toward forging outer unity becomes clear. This is the easiest way – through realizing the inner unity that we are, we can see and not get caught by the tendencies of outer contradiction. But there is also a harder, and probably more common, way as well – the way of failure. Because when we experience the pain of our own lack of integrity, this can wake us up and motivate us to change course. This was the path of Yehudah: וְעַתָּ֗ה יֵֽשֶׁב־נָ֤א עַבְדְּךָ֙ תַּ֣חַת הַנַּ֔עַר עֶ֖בֶד לַֽאדֹנִ֑י וְהַנַּ֖עַר יַ֥עַל עִם־אֶחָֽיו׃ “And now, please let your servant dwell, instead of the boy, as a slave to my lord, and let the boy go back with his brothers…”
The beginning of Parshat Vayigash is the climax of the Yosef story. Yosef is fooling his brothers, saying that he is about to take their brother Binyamin as a slave for stealing Yosef’s magic goblet. Of course, Binyamin didn’t really steal it; Yosef framed him for the purpose of bringing the brothers to recognize their past sins toward him. Finally, it is Yehudah who steps us and takes responsibility. “Take me instead” he says. This is the Yehudah who was shamed for his arrogance and aggressiveness in the last parshah. Now, Yehudah has been transformed; he has become a mensch. He is willing to be a slave himself in order to save his brother and his father. This is the quality of aleph, both on inner and outer levels; he is willing to receive suffering with love, like Reb Zusha, for the sake of serving his father and brother. Interestingly, the words for “father,” av, and “brother,” akh, both begin with aleph, as does the word Adon, Lord, the superlative that Yehudah calls Yosef: אדון – אח – אב In this way, Yehudah’s humbled and service-oriented relationship with those around him symbolizes our relationship with the the Divine Aleph which is the Oneness of All Being. Through recognition and transcending of our past failures, through willingness to feel the sting of their pain and choose to move forward and unify ourselves in service of Reality, we follow the pattern of Yehudah; we become Yehudim, Jews, in the deepest sense of the word…
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Glass of Sunshine – Parshat Vayigash
12/30/2019 0 Comments Rabbi Yehoshua Heschel of Apt said, “A person should be like a vessel that willingly receives what its owner pours into it, whether it be wine or vinegar.” What does this teaching mean? The other day I went to see a production of the Nutcracker with my family. I loved it – the lead dancers were wonderful, but also there were many little children who danced adorably as well, at their level. But I was most impressed by the sets. One moment the entire huge stage looked like the inside of a fancy mansion, and the next moment the mansion set lifted into the air and was replaced by a winter wonderland. This happened several more times; one set flew away and another completely different scene manifested. It was hard to believe that all those different sets could fit somewhere above the stage, out of sight. Each one looked so substantial; the change from one set to another in a few seconds was truly magical seeming. And so it is with our different experiences as well. As I am writing this, the sky has been cloudy for most of the day. The dampened sunlight and cold, moist December air creates in me a somewhat muted emotional tone; the outside is reflected on the inside. Then, about an hour ago, the clouds parted and the sunlight broke through. Instantly, my inner world changed as well – light on the outside, light on the inside – magic! The weather is a great metaphor for experience in general. Qualities of experience persist for some time, then change. Of course, we are not completely passive; there are many ways we can and must regulate our experience. We certainly have the ability to drink the “wine” and reject the “vinegar.” And yet, in this moment, a certain experience is already manifest. We can steer the experience in certain ways as we move through time, but whatever experience is already manifest now, that is the experience we must be with now. The “wine” or “vinegar” has already been “poured.” If we do not willingly receive this moment as it is, we create resistance, stress, dis-ease. But if we do open to this moment as it is, even as we may steer it into the future, then there is a deeper magic that can manifest: we can come to know ourselves as the vessel. After all, what is a vessel? It is just an open space. The point is that on the deepest level of your being, you are simple openness; you are the “stage” upon which an infinite number of different “sets” are assembled and disassembled instantaneously. You are not the clouds or the sunlight penetrating the clouds; you are the openness of this moment, the stage upon which everything is unfolding. And, as it turns out, when we are open to both the wine and the vinegar, there is a deeper “wine” that can reveal itself; a deeper “sunlight” that shines from within. There is a hint of this in the parshah: וַיֹּ֨אמֶר יוֹסֵ֧ף אֶל־אֶחָ֛יו גְּשׁוּ־נָ֥א אֵלַ֖י וַיִּגָּ֑שׁוּ וַיֹּ֗אמֶר אֲנִי֙ יוֹסֵ֣ף אֲחִיכֶ֔ם אֲשֶׁר־מְכַרְתֶּ֥ם אֹתִ֖י מִצְרָֽיְמָה׃ Joseph said to his brothers, “Please approach me.” And when they approached, he said, “I am your brother Joseph, he whom you sold into Egypt.” Up to this point in the story, Joseph had been disguised as a merciless dictator, giving rise to fear and despair in the brothers. But then Joseph reveals himself by saying, g’shu na eilai– please approach me. To “approach” is the opposite of resisting. And just as Joseph reveals his true identity to his brothers when they approach, so too when we “approach” this moment with openness, we can come to see that this experience too is our “brother” – whatever quality is present, be it “vinegar” or “wine,” is arising within the field of consciousness that we are. In fact, every experience is only a form – a “disguise” – of our own consciousness. Come to this moment and see – your “brother” is ready to embrace you; your “sister” is ready to kiss you. All are forms of consciousness, and consciousness is nothing but the Divine, alive and awake within you, as you… וַיִּגַּ֨שׁ אֵלָ֜יו יְהוּדָ֗ה Vayigash eilav Yehudah – And Judah approached… That is, to be a “Jew” is to approach this moment with gratitude! (Jew, Yehudah, is from odeh et Hashem – “I thank the Divine.”) Approaching the Eternal – Parshat Vayigash 12/11/2018 0 Comments Recently I was teaching my Bat Mitzvah cohort about the Sh’ma. We talked about how the word sh’ma (listen) is really an invitation not merely to do the act of listening, but to be the listening. When you are the listening, you can take a break from the roles you play – roles like daughter, student, friend, sister, and so on – and simply be a knowing presence. “But why would we want to do that?” one of them said. “I like my identity!” “Sure, identity can wonderful. But that doesn’t mean we need it all the time. For example, it’s great to live in a house. But would you want to be trapped in your house?” “Yes, I love my house! I want to be in it all the time!” They were toying with me. At their age, it’s not common to want to take a break from identity; there is not yet knowledge of the burden of identity, because identity is still new, still forming. But on some level, the heart knows. Many people go their whole lives without making this knowledge conscious and intentional, but still the seed is there of the realization: There is much more to existence than identity. Children are usually not interested in going beyond identity, and most adults aren’t either. Some adults may come to realize it would be a good idea to meditate in order to let go of stress or whatever, but still they don’t necessarily do anything about it. Even fewer will get to the point of realizing: the whole drama of life with its ups and downs, with death ever lurking at the end of the story, is not the deepest level. There is an intuition of something deeper – but how to get to It? The truth is, we don’t have to “get” to It – all we need do is stop and turn toward It. The mind constantly generates this whole noisy drama of life, but there is a Center. The Center is vast silence, and that Center is none other than your own being, which is not separate from the One Being. But, we shouldn’t think that the noisy drama and the vast, silent Center are two different things! Rather, all the content and movement of our life drama are nothing but the Vastness, dressed up in different costumes. We need not turn away from life, we need only to turn more completely toward it. Beneath the costume, the Divine is whispering to us, as Joseph said to his brothers when he revealed himself to them: אֲנִ֣י יֹוסֵ֔ף – I am Joseph! The name Yosef (Joseph) means “increase,” so on the deepest level, this is the Divine message to us: whatever we are relating with in the moment, its deepest identity is the Mystery from which all emerges. Then Yosef says, גְּשׁוּ־נָ֥א אֵלַ֖י – g’shu na eilai – Approach me please! In other words, don’t be fooled by the masks – come to the heart, come to the vast and silent Center behind all the actors playing out the drama. That Vastness is home, that Vastness is peace, that Vastness is the Divine, and it was Here all along. But this realization of the Center is not the end of the drama – not at all! Because now that you’ve tasted the Real Thing, you want more – you want to stay there. You want It all the time. But life pulls you back into its chaos again and again! What to do? Hear the Divine’s message to Jacob, as he prepares to descend in Egypt: אַל־תִּירָא֙ מֵֽרְדָ֣ה מִצְרַ֔יְמָה כִּֽי־לְג֥וֹי גָּד֖וֹל אֲשִֽׂימְךָ֥ שָֽׁם – Don’t be afraid of descending into Egypt, because I will make you into a great nation there… Egypt is Mitzrayim – narrowness, constriction. Don’t be afraid to get pulled back into a constricted state, because it is through your descent that your ascent will become more mature and stable. You can only grow spiritually through the learning that comes through failure. Then it says: אָֽנֹכִ֗י אֵרֵ֤ד עִמְּךָ֙ מִצְרַ֔יְמָה וְאָֽנֹכִ֖י אַֽעַלְךָ֣ – I will descend with you into Egypt and I will surely bring you up as well… Even in the depths of separation there is nothing but the Divine, so the power to return is always inherent within every experience, no matter how far you seem to fall. גַם־עָלֹ֑ה וְיוֹסֵ֕ף יָשִׁ֥ית יָד֖וֹ עַל־עֵינֶֽיךָ – and Joseph will place his hand on your eyes… The eyes are a symbol for awareness. Joseph’s name, Yosef, means “increase,” and the hand is a symbol of action: It is through your descent and subsequent ascent that you will gain the power to increase your own awareness, to be free from the tremendous pull ofMitzrayim, to awaken completely out of the seduction of life’s noisy dramas. Then you will say as Jacob said: אָמ֣וּתָה – Amutah – I will die – The “me” that is dependent on the Mitzrayim of life’s dramas can die, because רְאוֹתִ֣י אֶת־פָּנֶ֔יךָ כִּ֥י עֽוֹדְךָ֖ חָֽי – r’oti et panekha ki odkha khai! I have seen Your Face, that it lives forever! Every form we encounter is the Nothing but the Face of the Living, Eternal Presence… What is Egoless Intention? Parshat Vayigash 12/20/2017 0 Comments When Joseph reveals himself to his brothers, that he is the one they nearly killed and sold into slavery, he says, "don't be distressed for having sold me here, ki l'mikhyah sh'lakhani Elokim lifneikhem – for it was to be a provider that the Divine sent me before you!" Here we have the great paradox that includes yet goes beyond morality. The brothers did him wrong; there's no excusing them. And yet, Joseph says, "Al ta'atzvu – don't be distressed!" Why? Because it needed to happen that way. Their sin leads to their redemption; their evil was all for the sake of Mercy. And this is our choice now, in every moment – to practice Al ta'atzvu – not being distressed – and instead knowing that this moment is as it should be. This doesn't excuse or justify hurtful and wrong behavior; it just sets it in the widest, infinite context of Reality, and opens the door to redemption, no matter what the situation... if we can remember to approach this moment, as it is. Good Shabbos! A Little Bee Says- Parshat Vayigash 12/16/2015 2 Comments Have you ever misheard the lyrics of a song and gone around singing it completely wrong? When I was about four years old, the song “I Believe in Music” by Mack Davis was popular. There was some PBS children’s show I used to watch that put the song with some animation, so I heard it all the time. Only I didn’t really hear it, I misheard it. The song actually went- “Oh I… believe in music… Oh I… believe in love!” But in my mind, the song went like this- “Oh-ah! A little bee says… Oh-ah! A little bee!” I have fond memories of my father shaving in the bathroom, singing, “Oh-ah! A little bee says…” A few years ago there was some animated Disney movie- I think it was Shark Tale. I was watching it with my four year old son, when suddenly that rap about “big butts” comes on. I sat there, incredulous. Oh no! Corruption! Luckily, he thought the lyrics were, “I like… big… birds in the cats!” Then, I got to shave in the bathroom and sing, “I like big birds in the cats!” When a child hears some catchy music but doesn’t understand the meaning of the words, the child’s mind fills in the meaning spontaneously (and cutely). I was reminded of this when I was leading a Shabbat service a few years back, and I saw a man singing his heart out with the Hebrew prayers. After the service, I spoke with him. “Wow you were so into davening that prayer!” I said. “You know the meaning of those words is interesting…” “Don’t tell me what the words mean!” he yelled. “I don’t want to know! If I know the real meaning of the Hebrew, it will ruin it for me!” Just like children who create their own versions of songs, he had created his own meaning for that prayer, and was davening so passionately. He didn’t want to know the “real” meaning because it wasn’t his meaning, and would probably contain off-putting religious ideas besides. I think this is true for many American spiritual seekers and practitioners- not just in the Jewish scene, but in many traditions. Americans chant Sanskrit in yoga classes. They chant Turkish and Arabic in Sufi gatherings. They chant Japanese and Tibetan in Buddhist zendos and temples. For many of these seekers and practitioners, a lack of understanding the language is freedom. The exotic and foreign sounds can easily accommodate the true prayers of the heart, because they are not locked into any precise linguistic meaning. And yet, for many people, the opposite is true: For some who know how to say the words but don’t understand them, the prayers can feel rote and meaningless. Others, who neither know nor understand the words, end up feeling alienated, like outsiders. In response to that type of reaction, the Second Vatican Council changed the Catholic Mass from Latin to the local vernacular languages in the early 1960s. For some, this made the Mass more meaningful. But for others, getting rid of the Latin destroyed its mystery and power. You can’t please them all! No rabbi, no priest, no guru or shaykh or roshi or lama can ever come up with the formula that will “work” for everyone- it’s impossible. The real question is not how to make it work for everyone. The real question is: How can you make it work for you? And the question is even broader. It’s not just a question of how to connect with the external language of a traditional practice, but how to connect with any practice whatsoever. I remember several years ago when I was teaching a workshop on prayer and meditation. There was a guy in the class who raised his hand at the end and said, “I’m trying to do the practices you’re teaching me, but every time I try, it just feels so fake, so forced.” Whether traditional practices feel foreign and alienating because they’re so new to you, or whether you know them so well that they’re boring and tedious, it’s really the same question: How can I connect deeply to an external practice? How can it become authentic? How can it be transformative? This week’s reading begins after last week’s cliffhanger. Joseph’s brothers stand around him, not knowing his true identity, seeing him only as a foreign ruler from whom they must beg for sustenance due to the famine. Joseph has been toying with them, threatening to take the youngest brother, Benjamin, as a slave. Judah steps forward to plead with Joseph: “Vayigash eilav Yehudah- -And Judah approached him- “Vayomer, bi adoni y’daber na avdekha… And he said, ‘Please my lord, let your servant speak…’” The Hebrew wording in Judah’s plea with Joseph has a strange idiom: “… bi adoni y’daber na avdekha…” The word “bi” is usually left un-translated. Literally, “bi” means “in me” so a literal rendering would be, “In me, my lord, let your servant please speak…” Or, to say it more clearly, “May my inwardness express itself in speech…” If Judah represents the expression of inwardness and authenticity, Joseph represents externality, superficiality. Joseph is a political leader. For Judah and his brothers, Joseph is (or seems to be) a foreigner, something alien. And, most importantly, Joseph is hiding his inner identity from them. They can only see the most external part of him. But Judah, the internal and authentic self, approaches (yigash) the external and foreign form with three special qualities- humility, honesty and sacrifice. First, he approaches with humility: “And he said, ‘Please my lord, let your servant speak…’” Humility is the opposite of coming in with a lot of judgments and ego. With judgments and ego, you’ve already sabotaged any potential for connection before you even begin the conversation. If you want to connect, leave those at the door. Second, he approaches with honesty: “For how will I go up to my father if the boy is not with me? Let me not see the misery that will befall my father!” Judah brings his true concerns and fears- that’s the way to approach prayer. Whatever is really going on inside you, that’s your korban- your offering, your means to draw close. Just like the fellow who didn’t want to know the meaning of the words, fill the sounds of the words with your own sincere cries. This doesn’t mean you have to be anti-intellectual. If you can understand the words and identify with their meaning, all the better. Then you can take your place in the chain of tradition that brings those words to this moment in history. But whether you understand the words or not, it just means that you fill the words with the energy of your heart. Lastly, he approaches with sacrifice: “So now, please let (me) your servant stay instead of the boy as a slave to my lord, and may the boy go up with his brothers.” On one hand, real prayer has to come from the depths of your own desire. But then, it needs to go beyond that, to be offered for the sake of others. Don’t do it merely for your own experience, but to refine yourself so that you can be of more benefit to others, to bring more light into this world. Then, the externality of Joseph will break down: “Now Joseph could not bear all those standing beside him, and he called out, ‘Take everyone away from me!’ And he wept out loud, and said to his brothers, ‘I am Joseph!’” Bring these three qualities to your daily practice, to your synagogue, to the tradition, and it will open itself to you, revealing itself as your brother, your sister; it isn’t cold or alien underneath. How do you invoke these three qualities in yourself? The secret is in the tune. Music opens the door. Don’t just recite, chant. Don’t just speak, sing. The nervous system relaxes, dopamine is released, and even incomprehensible words can become carrier waves for depths of longing and ecstatic expressions of the heart, drawing you back into connection with yourself, with others and with the present moment. As Psalm 147 says: “Ki tov zamra leiloheinu navah tehillah- How good it is to sing praises to our God!” The 18th century Hassidic sage, Rabbi Elimelekh of Lizhensk, expounded on this verse like this: “It’s good when a person is able to bring about that God sings within him!” On this Shabbat Vayigash, the Sabbath of Approaching, may everything we approach that appears foreign and alienating open with warmth and connection, revealing the secret brother/sisterhood between all beings. May our words sprout from the fertile soil of melody and rhythm! Good Shabbos! love, b yosef |
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