 Manifestation
Aside from bringing forth our capacity for וַאֲהַבְתֶּ֖ם אֶת־הַגֵּ֑ר ahavtem et ha’ger, for loving the stranger, (see last week's post) the het quality of patience with others is also helpful in a totally different way – for bringing forth ideas into manifestation, for getting things done. A friend of mine once tried to help make a shiddukh – a “match” – for a woman who was looking to get married. He had a man in mind whom he thought was a good match, and was excited to have them meet. But when he told her about him, she asked to see a picture. He showed her the picture and she quickly snapped, “He’s not my type.” My friend was instantly filled with anger, and he immediately wanted to do two things at once. First, he wanted to shake her and say, “Just talk to him! You are sabatoging yourself! You can’t tell anything from a picture!” Second, he wanted to say “the hell with it,” and give up. These two impulses – the urge to force someone to change, on one hand, and to abandon the person, on the other, perfectly describe that which het comes to remedy. These two impulses, which we might call “fight or flight,” can be incredibly strong, but we are stronger. We are stronger because we are always bigger than any impulse; we are the space of consciousness within which every impulse comes and goes. Knowing ourselves as this inner vastness can help us be like the eagle hovering over her eaglets, poised and balanced between extremes, “hovering” in the in-between. Parshat Tazria There is a hint in the parshah: אִשָּׁה֙ כִּ֣י תַזְרִ֔יעַ וְיָלְדָ֖ה זָכָ֑ר וְטָֽמְאָה֙ שִׁבְעַ֣ת יָמִ֔ים כִּימֵ֛י נִדַּ֥ת דְּוֺתָ֖הּ תִּטְמָֽא׃ When a woman conceives and gives birth to a male, she shall be tamei – separate from the sacred – for seven days; she shall be tamei as in the days of niddah – separate from sexual intimacy.
The אִשָּׁה ishah, the “woman” is symbolic of Binah, the thinking mind, which “gives birth” to new thoughts and ideas. But in order for a thought to move from the level of mind into the physical world and come into manifestation, it often has to go through a process that takes time, often encountering various forms of resistance that must be navigated: וְטָֽמְאָה֙ שִׁבְעַ֣ת יָמִ֔ים V’tam’ah shivat yamim – she shall be tamei – separate from the sacred for seven days… The “seven days” means the world of time – the process of manifestation that can sometimes be tedious or even infuriating, creating a sense of separateness that arises from our resistance. But then: וּבַיּ֖וֹם הַשְּׁמִינִ֑י יִמּ֖וֹל בְּשַׂ֥ר עָרְלָתֽוֹ On the eighth day, the flesh of his skin shall be circumcised. The orlah, the “skin” that is “circumcised,” is the sense of separateness that can arise from the process “birthing” a thought into the world. But after experiencing the separateness inherent in thought and time, we can remove the barrier and enter the “eighth day” – that is, the sense of the Eternal inherent in the present moment. How do we do that? The key is het: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם זוֹקֵף כְּפוּפִים Blessed are You, Divine Source, who Straightens the Bent! On the surface, this Morning Blessing is giving thanks for getting out of bed. But on the inner level, it is hinting at the power to “straighten up” our mind and heart. To accomplish this, we don’t need to make an overt effort; in simply bringing ourselves into awareness of whatever is present, letting go of excess thinking and staying with the moment, the mind and heart “straighten up” on their own. This is the meaning of the blessing – that power to cease the urge to manipulate and cease the urge to run away, the power to neither lean in nor lean out, but simply sit in the presence of, comes to us as a gift when we offer the gift of our attention. Flourish צַדִּיק כַּתָּמָר יִפְרָח כְּאֶרֶז בַּלְּבָנון יִשגֶּה – Tzaddik ka’tamar yifrakh, k’erez bal’vanon yisgeh – The righteous will flourish like a date palm; like a cedar in Lebanon they will grow…
Rabbi Dov Ber, the Maggid of Metzritch, taught on this verse that there are two kinds of tzaddikim, two kinds of spiritual people. The better kind is like a tamar, a date palm, which is yifrakh, flourishing. They flourish because they go out and interact with people, they are concerned with people, and and they bring things about in the world of time; they bring “heaven down to earth.” The lesser kind is only concerened with “heaven,” spending all their time with Torah and prayer. They are like an erez, a cedar – lofty, but ultimately unfruitful. The Maggid’s words speak to a reality about “spiritual” people – we tend to be introverts; we tend toward solitude. There is nothing wrong with this, as long as it is balanced with life in the world with people. But people can sometimes be annoying and tedius to the introvert; how can an introvert practice the path of het? Parshat Metzora וְלָקַ֣ח הַכֹּהֵן֮ מִדַּ֣ם הָאָשָׁם֒ וְנָתַן֙ הַכֹּהֵ֔ן עַל־תְּנ֛וּךְ אֹ֥זֶן הַמִּטַּהֵ֖ר הַיְמָנִ֑ית וְעַל־בֹּ֤הֶן יָדוֹ֙ הַיְמָנִ֔ית וְעַל־בֹּ֥הֶן רַגְל֖וֹ הַיְמָנִֽית׃ The priest shall take some of the blood of the guilt offering, and the priest shall put it on the ridge of the right ear of the one who is being cleansed, and on the thumb of his right hand, and on the big toe of his right foot…
This passage, which on the surface is talking about a purification ritual for one who has become tamei, “ritually unfit” to bring sacrificial offerings, contains a formula for purifying ourselves on the inner level so that we may practice the het quality of “presence with,” even if it goes totally against our personality, as in the case of the introvert. The אֹזֶן ozen (ear) represents our seeking to understand others. When we feel annoyed by a person and resistance arises, our thinking can be easily taken over by narratives of judgment and blame. But we can counter this by adopting “beginner’s mind,” by staying open to new information, not crystalizing into a fixed point of view. This attitude of actively seeking more understanding is represented by the letter ע ayin which means “eye” – that is, not the eye that simply sees, but the eye that actively “seeks.” This “seeking eye,” the ע ayin, requires the “ear,” the אֹזֶן ozen! Ozen is א alef – ז zayin – ן nun. The א alef is the quality of openness, of knowing yourself as the one consciousness within which the multiplicity of experience arises. The ז zayin, on the other hand, is the sword; it represents cutting through the irrelevant and the useless. This is the opposite of alef, but alef and zayin need each other. You can’t discern what is relevant and what is not unless you are first open to whatever presents itself without predjudice; first we must be the alef, and only then can we weild the zayin. First we must be with a person or situation as they are in full acceptance, and only then can we continue through with our intentions, cutting through whatever barriers present themselves. But of course, as we go through this process, there is ever the possibility of missteps, of failure, of getting taken over by reactivity anyway. That is why we need the נ nun. Nun is acknowledgement of our imperfection and of the impermanence of our successes; it is the recognition of our capacity to “return” – to do teshuvah. We may fall off the horse again and again; get up, get back on. This is נ nun, the “fish,” swimming in the waters of the formless, of the impermanent. Don’t drown, swim – just as the fish uses the water to propel itself, use whatever obsticles arise and continue on your path. The בֹּהֶן bohen (thumb) represents our actions, since the thumb is our uniquely human tool for manipulating the world. This is about staying awake to the reality of choice, our freedom to choose and act. On the other side of “fight or flight” is an opposite force, the fear of being successful, the fear of completing things. To remedy this, we need to call forth the courage to choose and act, which is represented by the letter כ kaf, meaning “palm of hand,” the place of action. The “palm” of action, the kaf, requires the “thumb,” the בֹּהֶן bohen! Bohen is ב bet – ה hei – ן nun. The ב bet is embodiment, as bet means “house.” This is the attitude of welcoming our intention into a new form, not being afraid of “finishing” projects; it is the willingness to come to the end of something, to come to completion, to become. The letter ה hei is honoring the expression of our individual uniqueness. There is no end to what needs to be done in the world. As individuals, we are limited, but we also have something unique to contribute. Finally, the רַגְלוֹ בֹּהֶן bohen raglav, the “thumb of the foot” (big toe) represents our sensory awareness, since our feet connect with the earth, “grounding” us in the world of the senses. This is present moment awareness plain and simple, represented by י yod, which means “hand” – the place of both the “palm” and the “thumb,” the place of action. Yod is also the smallest of letters, a simple point, representing simple awareness connecting with the senses – presence in action. The simple awareness of י yod requires the רֶגֶל regel, the foot! Regel is ר reish – ג gimel – ל lamed. The ר reish is awe. Rosh means “head,” and the shape of reish is the bowed head, recognizing That which transcends the mind, which is Reality Itself; it is the recognition that this moment is a miracle. The ג gimel is completeness – like the gamal, the “camel” that carries all it needs within its hump as it traverses the desert, so too we have all we need on the deepest level of our being, the silent field of awareness that is always already Whole. But this completeness on the level of consciousness does not mean we are complete on the level of form. Rather, we are ever incomplete, and so we have the ל lamed, which means “learn.” Lamed represents the willingness to ever be a student, to open ourselves to receiving whatever the moment is coming to teach. Through all of these qualities – א Openness, ז Discernment, נ Return,ב Embodiment, ה Unique Expression, ר Awe, ג Wholeness and ל Learning – we can overcome boredom, tedium, restlessness, and any other barriers to the path of ח het, to being rooted in patience and staying with whatever process is just now unfolding…
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Rabbi Moshe Leib of Sasov was known for his extreme empathy. He said that he had learned this from a conversation he overheard between two peasants, while staying at an inn. They were drinking in silence, when one turned to the other and said, “Do you love me?”
“Of course I love you!” his companion replied. “You say that you love me,” said the first peasant, “but you don’t know what I need. If you truly loved me, you would know.” The second peasant was silent, not knowing what to say, but Rabbi Moshe knew. From that time onward he would say, “To truly love someone is to bear the burden of their sorrow.” This teaching is not about a supernatural ability to read minds, but the power of sustained presence in relation to others; it is a teaching about relationship. This practice of sustained Presence, of staying present with other beings over time, is what allows the gradual blossoming of knowledge of the other, and from that knowledge, empathy. The process requires both patience and attention, a willingness to be with others as they are, not imposing judgement or angling for them to change, but also not fleeing from them in fear or discust or disinterest; it is a balance between these extremes, a state which we could call “hovering.” This act of “hovering” is represented by the Eighteenth Path, the letter ח het. The Eagle In Hebrew calligraphy, het ח is constructed from aו vav and aז zayin making up its two sides, connected by a thin, upside down V on top, pointing upward. This connecting ark represents the act of “hovering,” like an eagle who hovers over its young, neither landing on them – which would crush and kill them – nor fleeing from them – which would leave them helpless and starving, and would also kill them. Rather, the eagle feeds the eaglets from above, connected but not imposing, giving space but not abandoning. The vav ו and theז zayin represent the two extremes between which the act of “hovering” is balanced. Vav ו acts as a prefix, meaning “and,” connecting one concept to another. It thus represents inclusion, saying “yes and” to whomever appears before us. It is a coming close, an affirming of the other, a building of relationship. The ז zayin, on the other hand, is the “sword of liberation,” severing attachment to wanting to control or manipulate our experience by controlling and manipulating others. Between these two exptremes, between affirming and letting go, is the path of het ח. Loving the Strange Thus, het is a transformative path. In staying present with others, a connection is forged. We begin by beholding someone that may seem alien and strange, but over time, we can come to understand them from the inside; we can come to feel what they feel. This is the cultivation of a love that is not a given, not something we are born into; it is a going beyond our boundaries of comfort and opening a wider space in the heart. The Torah says, וְאָֽהַבְתָּ֥ לְרֵעֲךָ֖ כָּמ֑וֹךָ – Ve’ahavtah l’reiakha komakha – Love your neighbor as yourself. That is, regarding those who are close to you, those in your community, don’t become overly focused on your love for yourself, but rather include your family and community in that same love and concern you would have for yourself. But the Torah also says, וַאֲהַבְתֶּ֖ם אֶת־הַגֵּ֑ר – Ahavtem et ha’ger – Love the stranger! That is, the ones who are not part of your circle, the ones who seem alien, different, those you don’t yet understand – come to understand them, come to empathize with them, yes, come to love them. Why? Because this is the bringing forth of our Divine nature; it is living in the realization of our essential identity in which we all partake: וּמַלְתֶּ֕ם אֵ֖ת עָרְלַ֣ת לְבַבְכֶ֑ם וְעָ֨רְפְּכֶ֔ם לֹ֥א תַקְשׁ֖וּ עֽוֹד׃ Cut away the covering from your hearts and stiffen your necks no more. כִּ֚י יְהוָ֣ה אֱלֹֽהֵיכֶ֔ם ה֚וּא אֱלֹהֵ֣י הָֽאֱלֹהִ֔ים וַאֲדֹנֵ֖י הָאֲדֹנִ֑ים הָאֵ֨ל הַגָּדֹ֤ל הַגִּבֹּר֙ וְהַנּוֹרָ֔א אֲשֶׁר֙ לֹא־יִשָּׂ֣א פָנִ֔ים וְלֹ֥א יִקַּ֖ח שֹֽׁחַד׃ For Reality Itself, your own Divinity, is God of gods and Lord of lords, the Great, the Mighty, and the Awesome, who shows no favor and takes no bribe. עֹשֶׂ֛ה מִשְׁפַּ֥ט יָת֖וֹם וְאַלְמָנָ֑ה וְאֹהֵ֣ב גֵּ֔ר לָ֥תֶת ל֖וֹ לֶ֥חֶם וְשִׂמְלָֽה׃ Doer of justice for the orphan and the widow, who loves the stranger, bestowing food and clothing. וַאֲהַבְתֶּ֖ם אֶת־הַגֵּ֑ר כִּֽי־גֵרִ֥ים הֱיִיתֶ֖ם בְּאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרָֽיִם׃ And you shall love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt...
It is because we were “strangers in the land of Egypt” – meaning, it is through remembering how we have felt alienated, through remembering our own pain, that we can access the power of patience and empathy. This is the redemption of pain, the way that our own suffering becomes useful toward greater consciousness and connection with others. All of this is hinted by the ו vav of the ח het, which means closeness, connection, the growing of knowledge of empathy. But there is also a danger in this closeness, the potential for a kind of “codependency,” for our conception of the other becoming trapped in a narrative of distress, of neediness, and victimhood. That’s why we also need the ז zayin. The Toes Once, when I was driving, I saw a man asking for money with a sign that read, “I have three toes – please help.” My heart twinged with compassion, as I retrieved some tzedakah from my wallet and handed it to him through the window. But as I continued driving, I began to reconsider his sign. He needs money because he has three toes? An article I had recently read came to mind about an athelete named Aimee Mullins. She had both legs amputated when she was one year old. But rather than adopt the identity of a less-abled person, she became a star athlete, a model and an inspirational speaker who empowers her listeners to transcend limited thinking and limited identity. This is not to imply in any way that it’s no big deal to lose a part of your body. And of course, I don’t really know whether the man did or didn’t actually have three toes. It is only to bring attention to our tendency to make our pain into a kind of identity, and for that identity to create its own unnecessary limitations. Aimee Mullins may be an extreme example of human potential, but she (and countless others) are showing us a truth: our power lies not in how many toes or legs or anything else we have, but in how free we are in our thoughts. If we narrate our lives in negative terms, seeing ourselves as victims, then that will be the lens through which we live, and that is what will seem to manifest. On the other hand, if we refuse to accept limiting labels, if we refuse to identify with negative stories, is there any fixed limit to what we can accomplish? Again, this is not to belittle anyone’s suffering or belittle the need for justice when people abuse and victimize others – we need the ו vav. It is only to balance the ו vav with the ז zayin. Empathize, love, and support others – but beware of the unconscious need to see others as “hurt” or “weak” or “victims.” Don’t hold anyone – yourself or others – in that limited view; truly, our Divine potential is endless. Parshat Sh’mini This parshah narrates the climax of the inauguration ceremony for the priests. After instructing in the various offerings that are to be brought, Moses tells the Israelites: כִּ֣י הַיּ֔וֹם יְהוָ֖ה נִרְאָ֥ה אֲלֵיכֶֽם Hayom Hashem nir’ah aleikhem – Today the Divine will appear to you!
וַיִּשָּׂ֨א אַהֲרֹ֧ן אֶת־ידו [יָדָ֛יו] אֶל־הָעָ֖ם וַֽיְבָרְכֵ֑ם וַיֵּ֗רֶד מֵעֲשֹׂ֧ת הַֽחַטָּ֛את וְהָעֹלָ֖ה וְהַשְּׁלָמִֽים׃ Aaron lifted his hands toward the people and blessed them; and he descended from the Sin Offering, the Elevation Offering, and the Peace Offering.
How is this “descent” possible? The word for “descent” is יֵּרֶד yered, composed of the letters י yod, ר reish, and ד dalet. י Yod, the smallest of the letters, has almost no form. It is the beginning of writing any letter, a single dot from which the form of each letter proceeds. Thus, it represents simplicity, particularly the simplicity sensory awareness, of Presence in action, of sensing and feeling rather than the complex elaboration of thinking. ר Reish is reisheet hokhmah, the “beginning of wisdom” – meaning, recognizing that most of Reality is far beyond what the mind can understand. Particularly, in relation to Presence with others, it reminds us that the person standing before us is a mystery; we don’t understand them yet. ד Dalet is “door” – the recognition that, as we connect with another and engage in the transformational process of relationship, we are entering a doorway beyond the known, opening to the Grace that becomes available when we are willing to walk through that door together. All of this becomes possible through the three “offerings” that Aaron makes before “descending.” These offerings are the kavanot, the attitudes that allow the process of het to unfold and the Divine potential to manifest. The first is הַֽחַטָּאת Hahatat, the “Sin Offering,” hinting that coming into Presence with another may require more than letting go of thought; it may also entail a conscious attitude of forgiveness of the other, if there is residual negativity from the past. The second is הָעֹלָה HaOlah, the “Elevation Offering,” hinting that in order to forgive and fully “descend” out of our heads and open to another, we need to know that we are fully safe. This is not the kind of safety that comes from the belief that the other won’t do anything we don’t like; it is the knowledge that we are safe because we are not merely the person with this or that opinion, memory, preconception, or wound; we are, in fact, transcendent consciousness – within but infinitely beyond all those elements that make up the “me.” We are, in essence, like open space. Finally, there is הַשְּׁלָמִֽים HaShlamim, the “Peace” or “Wholeness Offering,” hinting that the aim of the entire process is the coming into Wholeness with the other. In our own essence, we are always already Whole; that is our deepest reality. But in the world of time, Wholeness must be forged; it comes about when we bring the Wholeness that we are on the deepest level into connection with the brokenness within and before us – which is what happens next in the story… Ecstacy and Agony וַיָּבֹ֨א מֹשֶׁ֤ה וְאַהֲרֹן֙ אֶל־אֹ֣הֶל מוֹעֵ֔ד וַיֵּ֣צְא֔וּ וַֽיְבָרֲכ֖וּ אֶת־הָעָ֑ם וַיֵּרָ֥א כְבוֹד־יְהוָ֖ה אֶל־כָּל־הָעָֽם׃ Moses and Aaron then came to the Tent of Meeting, and they went out and blessed the people; and the k’vod Hashem – the Presence of the Divine – appeared to all the people. (9:23) The rite is fulfilled – the Divine apprears – but then something tragic happens. In the ecstasy of the moment, the high priest Aaron’s two sons, Nadav and Avihu, break ranks and rush forward to offer their own incense. A fire streams forth from the Divine and kills them. Moses tells Aaron that the Divine is sanctified and honored by their death. It then says: וַיִּדֹּ֖ם אַהֲרֹֽן Vayidom Aharon- Aaron was silent. (10:3) What is the meaning here? There is a remarkable Hassidic teaching on this horrific story of the death of Aaron’s two sons: One day, the son-in-law of Reb Shlomo of Radomsk was visiting Reb Menachem Mendel, known as “the Kotsker Rebbe.” The Kotsker asked his guest to please tell some Torah from his saintly father-in-law, to which he replied with this teaching: “When Aaron lost his two sons, the Torah records his praise, saying, ‘Vayidom Aharon- Aaron was silent’ because he was able to accept his extreme loss with equanimity. But King David surpassed him and reached an even higher level, as he says in Psalm 30: לְמַ֤עַן יְזַמֶּרְךָ֣ כָ֭בוֹד וְלֹ֣א יִדֹּ֑ם – L’man y’zamerkha khavod v’lo yidom- ‘So that I may sing of Your glory and not be silent’ – for even in times of great distress, King David would still sing God’s praises!” This teaching, though somewhat extreme, points to the power of the mind to define the way we frame reality. It also hints at the two basic practices crucial for accomplishing this: meditation and prayer. The “silence” of Aaron hints at meditation – that is, transcending our thoughts and feelings and knowing ourselves as the open field of consciousness, the open and radiant space of awareness, beyond the personal sense of self. The “praise” of David indicates prayer – that is, the crying out from the depths of the personal self. These two basic practices together – meditation and prayer – are the also theז zayin and the vav ו, liberation and connection, the power of het to bring heaven down to earth through Presence with others as they are – the Wholeness of transcendence meeting the brokenness of the personal. Sh’mini means “Eighth,” refering to the eighth day of the ceremony described. The number eight also symbolizes infinity, both in its Arabic shape and in its Hebrew meaning as the number that is beyond seven, which is the number of the finite, represented by the “seven days of creation.” As infinity, sh’mini represents the Divine, which is called Ayn Sof – literally, “there is no limitation.” Thus, we can read that the Infinite appears to the Israelites on the “Day of Infinity.” And when is this “Day of Infinity,” as it applies to each of us? הַיּ֔וֹם יְהוָ֖ה נִרְאָ֥ה אֲלֵיכֶֽם – Hayom Hashem nir’ah aleikhem Today the Divine will appear to you! Today, of course, means now – this moment in which we meet whatever now appears to us. Sometimes the moment appears familiar, beautiful, peaceful – but other times, it appears as strange, alien, or even threatening. In such times, there can be a possibility that comes to us by Grace, a possibility for וַאֲהַבְתֶּ֖ם אֶת־הַגֵּ֑ר ahavtem et ha’ger, for loving the stranger – a possibility that can be fulfilled through the practice of sustained Presence with others; this is the path of het ח.
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Love of the Moment – Parshat Sh'mini
4/13/2020 0 Comments Before Rabbi Dov Baer, (the Maggid of Metzrich) was well known, he lived with his wife and baby in deep poverty. They tried their best to keep mom nourished enough so that there would be milk in her breasts for the baby, but the day came that the baby couldn’t get any milk at all. The baby was hungry, but she was so weak that she was even unable to cry. The Maggid could no longer take it, and for a moment he lost his equanimity and cried out in anguish. Instantly a voice came from heaven and proclaimed that because he had complained, he had now lost his share in the World to Come. The Maggid smiled and said to himself, “Oh good – now that reward has been done away with, I can finally serve Hashem for its own sake!” Religion often paints a picture of the spirituality as a place of arrival in time; if we are true to the path, we will eventually come to the spiritual fruit, whether we call that fruit Olam Haba – The World to Come, or Enlightenment, or Awakening, Peace, or anything else. But the true Peace, the true arrival into Divine consciousness, is actually the dropping away of projecting ourselves in time and arriving into the present. הוּא אֱלהֵינוּ אֵין עוד Hu Eloheinu Ayn Od! Existence is our own Divinity, there is nothing else! This verse from the Aleinu prayer is telling us: Hu – that is, Existence as it presents itself in this moment, is Eloheinu – it is the Divine we seek, is it the ever-present fruit and goal, wholly available when we arrive into the abundance and fullness of this moment. There is a hint in the parsha: כִּ֣י הַיּ֔וֹם יְהוָ֖ה נִרְאָ֥ה אֲלֵיכֶֽם Because today the Divine will appear to you! (Leviticus 9:4) That is, the Divine appears ki hayom – because we open to the today. How do we do that? Simply by letting go of the idea that what we seek is in time, and instead (re)turning attention to what is present, to hayom. Let go of the restless movement of the mind, ki hayom Hashem Nir’ah– because That which we seek is already appearing, if we would stop looking elsewhere for It. In this week of Hesed/Lovingkindness, the time of counting of the seven weeks between Pesakh and Shavuot, the holidays of Liberation and Revelation, may we receive this supreme gift that frees us and reveals the Divine Presence ever shining from the silent depths of awareness… Just a Spoonful of Honey – Parshat Sh'mini 3/26/2019 0 Comments We know that we must remember to take time for ourselves; if we go on and on serving others only, we will burn out. But when it comes to meditation, taking time for yourself is also an essential service to others. That’s because no matter what you do, the quality of presence that you bring to your actions will have a deep effect on others around you. There’s a story of that some of Reb Simcha Bunam’s disciples decided to feast together and engage in Torah learning and spiritual conversation. When Reb Simcha observed them in their feast, he noticed there was a slight air of tightness and over-seriousness among them. “Let me tell you a story” said the rabbi. “Once there was a businessman who wanted to find a new enterprise that would be lucrative. He researched and discovered that making and selling mead would be very profitable, so he set off to a neighboring city and found a master mead maker to train him. “The businessman spent months learning the craft, and when he was thoroughly trained, he headed back to his home, brewed up his first batch, and invited many people from the town to come to his mead-tasting party. But, when the guests tried it, they winced in disgust. ‘What, you don’t like it? How could that be?’ said the businessman. “So, he headed back to the city and demanded a refund from the mead maker. ‘Did you do exactly as I taught you?’ the mead maker asked. ‘Yes of course.’ They went over each step carefully, and confirmed that the businessman had done everything correctly. ‘And of course, you added the honey, right?’ asked the mead maker. “‘Honey? No – you didn’t tell me that.’ “‘You fool! You mean I have to tell you to add honey??’” No matter how detailed and precise our service in the world is, it will be bitter if we don’t do it with good heartedness – we have to “add the honey.” This is so obvious, and yet many people feel guilty taking the time they need for meditation, learning, prayer and so on. אָמַר לָהֶם, צְאוּ וּרְאוּ אֵיזוֹהִי דֶרֶךְ יְשָׁרָה שֶׁיִּדְבַּק בָּהּ הָאָדָם. רַבִּי אֱלִיעֶזֶר אוֹמֵר, עַיִן טוֹבָה. רַבִּי יְהוֹשֻׁעַ אוֹמֵר, חָבֵר טוֹב. רַבִּי יוֹסֵי אוֹמֵר, שָׁכֵן טוֹב. רַבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן אוֹמֵר, הָרוֹאֶה אֶת הַנּוֹלָד. רַבִּי אֶלְעָזָר אוֹמֵר, לֵב טוֹב. אָמַר לָהֶם, רוֹאֶה אֲנִי אֶת דִּבְרֵי אֶלְעָזָר בֶּן עֲרָךְ מִדִּבְרֵיכֶם, שֶׁבִּכְלָל דְּבָרָיו דִּבְרֵיכֶם. He said to them: Go out and see what is the straight path that a person should cling to. Rabbi Eliezer says: A good eye. Rabbi Yehoshua says: A good friend. Rabbi Yosi says: A good neighbor. Rabbi Shimon says: Seeing the consequences of one’s actions. Rabbi Elazar says: A good heart. He said to them: I see the words of Rabbi Elazar ben Arakh as better than all of yours, because your words are included in his. -Pirkei Avot 2:8 Cultivating a “good heart,” that is, a conscious heart, is foundational for being of service in the world. There is a hint in this week’s reading: וַיֹּ֨אמֶר מֹשֶׁ֜ה אֶֽל־אַהֲרֹ֗ן קְרַ֤ב אֶל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֙חַ֙ וַעֲשֵׂ֞ה אֶת־חַטָּֽאתְךָ֙ וְאֶת־עֹ֣לָתֶ֔ךָ וְכַפֵּ֥ר בַּֽעַדְךָ֖ וּבְעַ֣ד הָעָ֑ם וַעֲשֵׂ֞ה אֶת־קָרְבַּ֤ן הָעָם֙ וְכַפֵּ֣ר בַּֽעֲדָ֔ם כַּאֲשֶׁ֖ר צִוָּ֥ה יְהוָֽה׃ Moses said to Aaron: “Come to the altar and sacrifice your sin offering and your burnt offering, atoning for yourself and for the people; and then make the offering for the people and atone for them, as the Divine has commanded… Strange – it should have said, “atoning for yourself” and then “atone for them,” but instead it says, “atoning for yourself and the people,” and then “atone for them.” The people get “atoned” for twice – because when you work on yourself, you are also serving others by doing so. Then, only after you have worked on yourself, “atone for them” – meaning, go out and serve in the world with a purified heart… Drinking from the Well - Parshat Sh'mini 4/11/2018 1 Comment A disciple of the Seer of Lublin was fasting "from Sabbath to Sabbath." Late Friday afternoon, he came to a well, and became so overcome with thirst that he thought he might die. So, he broke down and was about to draw some water to drink. Suddenly he realized- "Wait! If I drink now, I will have nullified the whole week of fasting! I can wait one more hour until Shabbos!" So he left the well, despite his intense thirst. But then he noticed – he was feeling some arrogance for having withstood the test! Better that he drink the water than foster the arrogance, so he went back to the well to drink. But when he got there, he noticed his thirst had vanished. "Never mind!" he thought, and went on his way to the Master's house for Shabbos. As soon as he entered the house, the Seer looked right at him and said, "wishy washy!" It's a common practice in the Jewish tradition, as well as nearly all other traditions, to cultivate a sense of transcendence through various forms of asceticism – fasting, celibacy, and so on. The idea is that we tend to be identified with our impulses, cravings, feelings, and opinions, and this creates a sense of narrowness, of being trapped. So, in order to dis-identify from these seductive aspects of experience, one can take a break from engaging them and practice simply being in the presence of the feeling or craving or whatever, and not feed it. This is the basic idea behind any restriction-based practices, such as kashrut, not working on Shabbat, and so on: you are bigger than your impulses. They can be powerful, but they can never overpower you if you remember what you actually are: a vast field of awareness, within which your impulses come and go. But there's a potential trap in this and all practices, in that you can identify with the practice itself and get trapped in feelings of pride or inadequacy, depending on how "good" or "bad" you think you're doing. The remedy is, keep going with your renunciation right to the core of identification: your own thoughts. The guy in the story renounces food and water for six days (just the daytimes actually, these kinds of fasts permit eating at night), but he doesn't renounce his thoughts about food and water. "I've got to drink! No I can't that would ruin everything! Oh no but now I'm feeling pride, better to drink! Oh no but I don't have to because I'm not thirsty anymore!" It's all overthinking; he's just exchanged one schtick for another. Instead, don't just limit your food and drink, limit your mind. Think when necessary or productive, and otherwise accept things and let go. This is the message of this week's S'firat HaOmer, called Gevurah, meaning Strength, Limitation, Boundary. The paradox is that in order to be free and realize yourself as expansiveness, you have to be able to set limits. There's a hint of this in this week's reading, Parshat Sh'mini. Moses is giving Aaron and the Israelites instructions about certain offerings they must bring, in order that: כִּ֣י הַיּ֔וֹם יְהוָ֖ה נִרְאָ֥ה אֲלֵיכֶֽם׃ – Ki hayom Hashem nir'ah aleikhem Today the Divine will appear to you. The first offering is a Hatat – a "sin offering." In other words, if you want to behold the Presence of Being, you have to "let go of your sins" – meaning, stop berating yourself, stop worrying about the past. Come to the present. That's the offering – the limiting of your involvement with your past mistakes. The second offering is an Olah - an "elevation offering." In other words, after you let go of the past, you must "elevate" your impulses in the present. Whatever your motive, be it desire or negativity, transform it – up level it – into prayer. See the Divine impulse within every particular impulse, and reframe it through your prayer. Do you want something? Direct your want to the Divinity of Being as it is manifesting right now. Are you angry or fearful about something? Direct your feelings in prayer toward their transformation. It is so important to do some of this every day. That's what the Hassidic master Rebbe Nachman called, hitbodedut. In Pirkei Avot, 4:1, we read, "Ben Zoma said... who is strong? Koveish et yitzro – One who masters one's own yetzer, one's own motivation." This is the task in each day: to remember our own masterfulness, that we are infinitely more vast than any particular experience, that we can let go of the past and alchemically transform whatever arises in the present... Give it Up- Parshat Sh'mini 4/21/2017 "And it was on this day of Eternity..." Let’s look at what happens when you’re craving something, and then you get what you’re craving. Take food for example. You feel the pain of hunger, the desire to eat something, and then you eat it and feel satisfaction. But there’s something else going on of which you might not be aware unless you’re really paying attention, and that is the sense of incompleteness that’s caused not by the hunger, but by the mental and emotional fixation on the object of your desire. It’s not just that you’re hungry, it’s that there’s a basic dis-ease with the present moment, and a psychological “reaching” for a future moment when you imagine that you’ll be satisfied. Then, when you finally get what you were craving, not only is there a satisfaction with the experience of the food, there’s also hopefully a relaxing into present moment reality while you enjoy the food, and a dropping away of that dis-ease of wanting. And that simple connection and dropping away of dis-ease is itself very pleasurable, and naturally lovable, even more so perhaps than the food. Now everyone experiences this at least to some degree, but rarely to people realize that what’s going on. Instead, people just assume that all the pleasure comes from the food or whatever particular gratification they’re experiencing. But the truth is, the deeper pleasure comes not from the food, though food is certainly a wonderful thing, but from the letting go of wanting and instead connecting deeply with the present. That’s why we have practices like fasting, for example, or giving up bread on Pesakh. Normally when we feel a craving, the heart tends to run after what we want and we lose connection with the present. But if you let yourself feel the craving on purpose, returning your attention to your heart again and again so that it doesn’t carry you away, then you can learn to open your heart and drop into the wholeness and bliss of the Present without needing to satisfy whatever urge you’re feeling. In that way, you get to experience Ahavat Hashem- love of God- meaning love of Being or Existence or Reality Itself, because your connection to the Reality of the present is by its nature very pleasurable, healing and liberating. There’s a hint of this in the Torah reading Parshat Sh’mini. It opens, “Vay’hi bayom hashmini kara mosheh- It was on the eighth day that Moses called out." Moses then gives instructions to the Israelites for the offerings they should bring in order for them to have a vision of the Divine. It then goes on in great detail about the animals and grains and oils they burned as fire offerings. At the end of this litany it says, “… vayeyra kh’vod Hashem el kol ha’am- the Divine Glory appeared to all the people.” Why? When you experience satisfaction such as eating delicious food, you can elevate that experience through gratitude- through realizing that your food is literally a gift from God, emerging from the field of Being. But if you want to experience ahavat Hashem- the love of God that’s there even when you’re not feeling satisfied, you have to differentiate the pleasure that comes from Presence from the pleasure that comes from gratification, and you can do that through sacrifice- through purposely giving something up. Then, just as the Divine Glory appeared to the Israelites, so you too will perceive the deep satisfaction and bliss of connecting with Reality as it is, beyond all those temporary and finite pleasures, wonderful as they might be. And when you do that, a much deeper gratitude can emerge- gratitude not only for the particular blessings we experience, but for the constant opportunity we have to practice Presence and connect with the completeness and peace of this moment. This is also hinted at in the opening verse, “Vay’hi bayom hashmini- It was on the eighth day…” Y’hi is a form of the verb “to be.” Bayom means “on the day” but it can also mean “in today” meaning in the Present, and hashmini means, “the eighth.” The number eight on its side is a symbol for infinity. So the idea here is that you connect with the Eternal, hashmini, through Being, y’hi, in the Present, bayom. So on this Shabbat Shmini, the Sabbath of the Infinite, let’s absorb the lessons of Pesakh, learning to delay and sometimes surrender gratification, opening our hearts to that deeper connection with the Eternal Present. Good Shabbos! love brian yosef The Toes- Parshat Sh'mini 3/31/2016 Once when I was driving, I saw a man asking for money with a sign that read, “I have three toes- please help.” For an instant, my heart twinged with compassion. But that was immediately followed by a disorienting surprise as I reconsidered his sign. He needs money because he has three toes? I immediately thought of Aimee Mullins. Aimee Mullins had both legs amputated when she was one year old. Rather than adopt the identity of a disabled person, she became a star athlete, a model and an inspirational speaker who empowers her listeners to transcend limited thinking and limited identity. I don’t mean to be uncompassionate to the man with three toes who needed some money, or to imply that it’s no big deal to lose a part of your body. I want to bless that man that he should have relief from any suffering caused by his body or anything else. But the real disability, as Aimee Mullins and countless others have demonstrated, is not in how many toes or legs you have, but how imprisoned you are by your thoughts. If you narrate your life in negative terms, telling yourself sad stories of victimhood, then that will be the lens through which you live, and that is what will seem to manifest. On the other hand, if you refuse to accept limiting labels, if you refuse to identify with negative stories, is there any fixed limit to what you can accomplish? In this week’s reading, Parshat Sh’mini, the Torah narrates the climax of the inauguration ceremony for the priests. Moses tells the Israelites that after the various offerings are brought- “Hayom Hashem nir’ah aleikhem- “Today Hashem will appear to you!” The offerings are brought, the rites performed, and then it happens- “Vayeira kh’vod Hashem el ha’am- “The glory of the Divine appeared to the people!” Then something tragic happens: in the ecstasy of the moment, the high priest Aaron’s two sons, Nadav and Avihu, break ranks and rush forward to offer their own incense. A fire streams forth from the Divine and kills them. Moses tells Aaron that Hashem is sanctified and honored by their death. Of Aaron it says- “Vayidom Aharon- Aaron was silent.” There’s a story of the Hassidic master Reb Menachem Mendel of Kotsk, the Kotsker Rebbe. One day, the son-in-law of Reb Shlomo of Radomsk was visiting him. The Kotsker asked his guest to please tell some Torah from his saintly father-in-law, to which he replied with this teaching: “When Aaron lost his two sons, the Torah records his praise, saying- ‘Vayidom Aharon- Aaron was silent’ because he was able to accept his misfortune with equanimity and not become a victim. But King David surpassed him and reached an even higher level, as he says in the psalm- ‘L’man y’zamerkha khavod v’lo yidom- ‘So that I may sing of Your glory and not be silent’- -for even in times of great distress he would still sing God’s praises.” This teaching, though somewhat extreme, points to the power of your mind to define the way you frame reality. It also hints at the two basic practices for learning to use your mind. The silence of Aaron hints at meditation. Through meditation, you learn to free your mind from all the thought forms that tend to imprison most people to some degree. The praise of David indicates prayer. In prayer, the sacred dimension that’s revealed in meditation is given expression. These two basic practices together- meditation and prayer- tap into the sacred dimension and draw forth Its nourishment into expression. The name of this parshah is “Sh’mini” which means “Eighth.” This refers to the eighth day of the ceremony on which the action takes place. The number eight symbolizes infinity, both in its Arabic shape and in its Hebrew meaning as the number that transcends seven, which is the number of finite creation. One of the names of God in Kabbalah is Ayn Sof, which also means Infinite- literally “there is no limitation”. Thus, the Infinite appears to the Israelites on the day of infinity. And when is the “day of infinity” as it applies to each of us? “Hayom Hashem nir’ah aleikhem- today Hashem will appear to you!” Today, of course, means now. In the subsiding of thought, there’s the subsiding of time. In the subsiding of time, there’s the blossoming of the only Reality there is- the Reality of this moment, the one and only moment. This moment is not fixed. Ever changing, it is Ayn sof, without limit, unbound by past and future. On this Shabbat Sh’mini, this Sabbath of the Infinite, let us co-create this moment not as victims of the many mishaps and tragedies that unfold in time. But rather, from the silent depths of our being, let the voice of God emerge through our voices to praise Its own Mystery…
It is said that the Baal Shem Tov never kept money in his house overnight. When he returned from raising funds during his journeys as a teacher, he would pay off all the debts which had accumulated in his absence, and distribute the rest of the money to the poor.
One time, after returning from such a journey, he did his usual custom of paying debts and giving the rest away. He then went off to the synagogue for Ma’ariv, the evening prayer. But during the service, he felt something was impeding his ability to daven. He knew something was wrong – perhaps some of the money had remained in his house and was not given to the poor. When he returned home, he asked his wife about it, who admitted she had put some money aside so that she wouldn’t have to buy on credit for the next few days. He took the money and gave it as tzedakah for the needy right away, and his ability to pray was restored. At first glance, this unusual story may seem irrelevant to most of us. The Baal Shem Tov’s practice of not keeping any money for more than a day doesn’t seem like a wise way to live, and indeed I have not heard of this as a Jewish practice in any other context. But, there is a deeper meaning to the story, beyond the literal level. The “money” can mean whatever deem as important, whatever we are concerned about. The tendency is to become “attached” to things psychologically, to inwardly rely on things and conditions. This tendency to become entangled in cares and worries is the essence of what impedes prayer; or, in a more general sense, it impedes our ability to feel present and connected to the sacred, to the Mystery, to the Presence that we call the Divine. What is the solution? Give it away – meaning, reframe your cares and worries as offerings. Whatever are the objects of concern – relationships, work, health, whatever – know that they are all tools of offering, of giving something, rather than trying to gain some sense of security from them. In this way, you can wield the ז zayin – the inner sword of liberation – cutting through your attachments by remembering (zakhor) to live from the motive of love. This remembering is the idea behind the practice of the ritual garment fringes, called tzitzit: וְהָיָ֣ה לָכֶם֮ לְצִיצִת֒ וּרְאִיתֶ֣ם אֹת֗וֹ וּזְכַרְתֶּם֙ אֶת־כָּל־מִצְוֺ֣ת יְהוָ֔ה וַעֲשִׂיתֶ֖ם אֹתָ֑ם וְלֹֽא־תָתֻ֜רוּ אַחֲרֵ֤י לְבַבְכֶם֙ וְאַחֲרֵ֣י עֵֽינֵיכֶ֔ם אֲשֶׁר־אַתֶּ֥ם זֹנִ֖ים אַחֲרֵיהֶֽם׃ It shall be for you tzitzit – you shall look upon it and remember all the mitzvot of the Divine and do them, and you shall not follow after that which your heart and your eyes are distracted by.
How? First, it says רְאִיתֶם r’item – “see them” – meaning, be aware of whatever is present. That is, be the conscious presence behind whatever experience is happening in the moment. Next, it says זְכַרְתֶּם z’khartem – “remember them” – meaning, remember your intention to cut through worries and entanglements through the attitude of offering. In this spirit of love, you can come to see this moment as אֶת־כָּל־מִצְוֺ֣ת יי et kol mitzvot Adonai – “all the Divine Commandments.” Meaning, receive this moment, in all its complexity, in all its fullness, אֶת – from א alef to ת tav – as a “Divine Commandment.” There is a hidden potential within this and every moment, an opportunity to bring a bit of heaven down to earth, if we approach the moment in this spirit. Parshat Tzav is, in a sense, a metaphor for this transformative potential. On one hand, the parshah is mostly a tedious litany of ritual laws, similar to the tedium that we may experience in the day to day of mundane tasks. But the message is – these are korbanot – offerings – opportunities to draw close to the Divine: צַ֤ו אֶֽת־אַהֲרֹן֙ וְאֶת־בָּנָ֣יו לֵאמֹ֔ר זֹ֥את תּוֹרַ֖ת הָעֹלָ֑ה הִ֣וא הָעֹלָ֡ה עַל֩ מוֹקְדָ֨ה עַל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֤חַ כָּל־הַלַּ֙יְלָה֙ עַד־הַבֹּ֔קֶר וְאֵ֥שׁ הַמִּזְבֵּ֖חַ תּ֥וּקַד בּֽוֹ׃ Command Aaron and his sons, saying: This is the teaching of the Elevation Offering: The Elevation Offering shall remain on the pyre, upon the altar, all night long, until the morning – the fire on the altar shall continue to burn on it…
It begins, צַ֤ו אֶֽת־אַהֲרֹן֙ Tzav et Aharon – “Command Aaron.” The word tzav, “command,” is not casual; it is a call to wake up to our Divine potential, to make our actions into korbanot, into offerings. This is the antidote to tedium that we can bring into whatever we are doing. For example, in doing the dishes, there can be the tendency to become less conscious, to mechanically act while the mind is somewhere else. But if we infuse the act with Presence, making our dish doing into an offering from the heart, then a simple mundane act becomes meditation. כָּל־הַלַּ֙יְלָה֙ עַד־הַבֹּ֔קֶר וְאֵ֥שׁ הַמִּזְבֵּ֖חַ תּ֥וּקַד בּֽוֹ … זֹ֥את תּוֹרַ֖ת הָעֹלָ֑ה This is the teaching of transcendence… all night long, until the morning, the fire on the altar shall continue to burn on it… Meaning – all through the “night” of mundane or dull activities, keep your awareness “burning” bright; let whatever you are doing be an olah, a means toward transcendence, towards recognizing the Mystery that appears in this form, right now, within the vast field of awareness that you are… וְעָֽרְבָה֙ לַֽיהוָ֔ה מִנְחַ֥ת יְהוּדָ֖ה וִירֽוּשָׁלִָ֑ם כִּימֵ֣י עוֹלָ֔ם וּכְשָׁנִ֖ים קַדְמֹנִיּֽוֹת׃ Then the offerings of Judah and Jerusalem shall be pleasing to the Divine, as in the days of yore and in the years of old…
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Return to Wholeness – Parshat Tzav
3/30/2020 1 Comment A disciple asked the Baal Shem Tov, “Why is it that sometimes the experience of Divine Oneness comes so easily, and other times it is so difficult and I feel so distant?” The Baal Shem answered, “It is like a mother with a toddler – the mother holds the toddler’s hands to help the toddler walk to her, but when the toddler comes close, she backs up and even lets go of the child’s hands, so that the toddler learns to walk on her own…” That which we seek is already present; it is Presence Itself – the Oneness of the Divine is the Oneness of this moment. Sometimes this truth may dawn on us by grace, but then it disappears so that we may actively choose It; without our power of choice, without actively coming to this moment, we wouldn’t be conscious of it. עַתָּה…הַשְׂכִּ֑ילוּ... הִ֝וָּסְר֗וּ Now… be wise… be disciplined! (Psalm 2:10) Atah, Haskilu – Now, be wise – it is crucial to understand that the Goal is not found elsewhere, It is found atah, in the Now. עת eit means “moment,” and the ה hei at the end means to point ourselves toward the moment. The ה hei also implies not just being aware of the moment, but of giving our awareness to the moment, of connecting from the heart. But merely “being wise” is not enough; we must also be disciplined – hivasru. Like the toddler, when we fall, we must get up again and again. The Mother will help us, for sure! But we must make the effort. There is a hint in this week’s special haftora reading for Shabbat HaGadol, the Sabbath before Pesakh: שׁ֤וּבוּ אֵלַי֙ וְאָשׁ֣וּבָה אֲלֵיכֶ֔ם Return to Me, and I will return to you! (Malakhi 3:7) The Divine Grace will come, but we must “first” make the effort. And how do we do that? הֲשִׁיבֵ֨נוּ יְהוָ֤ה ׀ אֵלֶ֙יךָ֙ וְֽנָשׁ֔וּבָה Return us, Hashem, to Yourself, and we will return! (Lamentations, 5:21) We must pray for the strength to make the effort! This is the circle of Grace and Effort, because the truth is that the “mother” and the “toddler” are not separate at all; we pray that the Divine should help us return, but the prayer is itself already the Divine answer. We receive the commandment to direct our awareness to the Divine, and our awareness is itself the Divine! But in order to really know that, we must persist even through times of darkness, times of not knowing that: זֹ֥את תּוֹרַ֖ת הָעֹלָ֑ה הִ֣וא הָעֹלָ֡ה עַל֩ מוֹקְדָ֨ה עַל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֤חַ כָּל־הַלַּ֙יְלָה֙ עַד־הַבֹּ֔קֶר This is the Torah of the Olah – Elevation Offering: It is the Olah upon the flame, upon the altar, all night until morning… (Leviticus 6:2) If we wish to “elevate,” to transcend the self that feels separate from the Oneness we seek, we must “burn” our awareness brightly into the darkness of that separateness, all night until morning. This means, when the Divine feels remote and distant, cry out, ask for the strength to return, and know that in doing so, you have already begun: Hashiveinu Adonai elekha v’nashuvah – Return us, Hashem, to Yourself, and we will return! The Mask – Parshat Tzav 3/20/2019 0 Comments How do you come up with the complete works of Shakespeare? Just take a bunch of hydrogen, and leave it alone for about fourteen billion years! There seems to be a miraculous potential within the very fabric of reality itself to evolve – to develop into higher and more complex structures, to go from inanimate matter to conscious beings. You start off with hydrogen atoms, and over time, you end up with us. In Judaism, that potential is called Hashem. This Divine potential to create and to become is inherent within us; just as sure as we exist, so the power of Hashem is at the core of who we are, calling us to evolve, to be willing partners in the process of Creation. It is not something we have to acquire; it is our essential being, behind the mask of our individuality. Our task is only to remember it, to awaken it, and to express it. וּמַה נָּעִים גּוֹרָלֵנוּ, וּמַה יָּפָה יְרֻשָּׁתֵנוּ אַשְׁרֵינוּ מַה טּוֹב חֶלְקֵנוּ, Ashreinu mah tov helkeinu, umah na’im goraleinu, umah yafa yerushateinu! We are fortunate – how good is our portion, how pleasant our lot, how beautiful our heritage! Our Divine nature is our heritage, our destiny, our task – and when we’re ready, it becomes our commitment: צַ֤ו אֶֽת־אַהֲרֹן֙ וְאֶת־בָּנָ֣יו לֵאמֹ֔ר זֹ֥את תּוֹרַ֖ת הָעֹלָ֑ה הִ֣וא הָעֹלָ֡ה עַל֩ מוֹקְדָ֨ה עַל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֤חַ כָּל־הַלַּ֙יְלָה֙ עַד־הַבֹּ֔קֶר וְאֵ֥שׁ הַמִּזְבֵּ֖חַ תּ֥וּקַד בּֽוֹ׃ Command Aaron and his sons, saying: This is the teaching of the Elevation Offering. It is the Elevation Offering that is on the flame on the altar all night long until the morning; the fire on the altar should be kept burning on it. “All night long” – in this dark time of such tremendous suffering and violence on our planet, we are “commanded” – if we can “hear” it – to “keep our fire burning” – to stay present, to be Presence, to elevate by burning up whatever destructive and unconscious patterns we find within ourselves. And as we transform ourselves, so do we transform the world. Because the more conscious we become, the more others will be able to feel that Presence in our presence, and that consciousness will spread – just as one flame ignites another without diminishing itself. In this way, our Divine potential that is ordinarily hidden becomes more and more revealed. There’s a story that before Reb Simcha Bunam was a rebbe, he traded in lumber. Once when he was in Dansig on business, the other merchants asked him why he bothered visiting his rebbe. “How can your rebbe teach you anything that you haven't already learned from all those books you read?” They said. That night, a number of them went to the theater. They invited Reb Simcha Bunam along, but he declined. Later, when they returned, they lamented he had missed such an amazing performance. “What do I need to see the performance for? I already know all about that show!” said Reb Simcha Bunam. “What do you mean? How could you know all about it – you haven’t seen it!” “Yes, but I read the program!” “You can’t really know a show just by reading the program, you have to experience it for yourself!” they retorted. “And so it is with my rebbe – what he reveals cannot be learned from books.” The merchants were silenced. On this week of Shabbat Tzav and Purim, may we keep the flames of Presence burning on the altar of this moment and reveal the Divine potential behind all of our masks. Hag Samayakh, Good Shabbos! This is It! Parshat Tzav 3/22/2018 0 Comments Once, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev was gathered with his hasidim after Yom Kippur. Setting his eyes on one disciple, he turned to him. “I will tell you what you prayed for and what Hashem’s response is," he told him. “You prayed that you should receive your livelihood for the whole year all at once, so that you would be free to spend the rest of the year praying and and studying,” he explained. “But then, you realized that if you had all the money at once, you’d probably not be able to resist starting a new business venture with all that capital, and you’d be in the same situation as before. So, you asked that you’d be given half now, and half in six months." The hasid was wide-eyed with amazement as his master miraculously reported his whole thought process. “But then you realized that still wouldn’t work," Rabbi Levi Yitzhak continued, "so you asked that it be given to you in monthly installments. The truth is, however, Hashem doesn’t want your prayers and Torah study; Hashem wants you to labor in your business!” The central and universal message of Hasidism is to connect with the Divine in every moment, in every action. Without diminishing the importance of the particular spiritual practices, the aim of those practices is to awaken the constant awareness of the Divine Presence by becoming totally present in all of life. In this way, presence realizes The Presence. But to do that, it is important to make sure you have the two main dimensions of Presence operating. There's a hint of these two dimensions at the beginning of our weekly reading (Leviticus Chapter 6): א וַיְדַבֵּ֥ר יְהֹוָ֖ה אֶל־משֶׁ֥ה לֵּאמֹֽר 1. And the Divine spoke to Moses, saying, ב צַ֤ו אֶת־אַֽהֲרֹן֙ וְאֶת־בָּנָ֣יו לֵאמֹ֔ר זֹ֥את תּוֹרַ֖ת הָֽעֹלָ֑ה הִ֣וא הָֽעֹלָ֡ה עַל֩ מוֹקְדָ֨ה עַל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֤חַ כָּל־הַלַּ֨יְלָה֙ עַד־הַבֹּ֔קֶר וְאֵ֥שׁ הַמִּזְבֵּ֖חַ תּ֥וּקַד בּֽוֹ: 2. "Command Aaron and his sons, saying, This is the law of the Elevation Offering: it is the the Elevation Offering which burns on the altar all night until morning, and the fire of the altar shall burn upon it. If you wish to elevate every moment and every situation so that everything becomes a realization of the Divine, you have to have let this moment be an offering, even in moments of darkness: "That is the Elevation Offering which burns on the altar all night..." And to accomplish that, you have be totally aware: "...and the fire of the altar shall burn upon it." – meaning, your awareness should "burn" on the "altar" of your heart, constantly. These two dimensions, staying aware of the fulness of this moment, on one hand, and offering yourself to this moment as an act of love, on the other, are the two essential dimensions of Presence. They are not separate, and yet we seem to find ways to separate them! One person has good intention, but bumbles about nervously. Another seems to be very aware, yet they are aloof and un-compassionate. Neither of these is very elevating. But bring the heart and the mind together, and everything becomes holy, no matter how mundane or even disturbing, barukh Hashem. Here's an inquiry to bring these two dimensions from potential into actuality: "What is the offering right now? Mah HaOlah?" Try and asking this often to yourself, and see what comes. Sometimes, you might get a great new insight about how to respond to the moment. Other times, there might only be the openness of the question. Either way, the inquiry can help to bring you to the "altar" of your heart and let your awareness burn brightly... Burn! Parshat Tzav 4/6/2017 1 Comment The Torah reading, Parshat Tzav, hints at the Passover theme of liberation- going out from the bondage of ego, represented by slavery in Egypt, and into the spacious freedom of the midbar- the wilderness of Reality Itself, beyond the limited maps of Reality generated by the mind. It says the priest should take the Minkha- the “meal offering”- “v’hiktir hamizbeiakh reiakh nikhoakh azkarata Lashem- and burn its remembrance on the altar as a pleasing fragrance to the Divine.” Now the image of burning has two main aspects. On one hand, fire creates light and warmth, which are necessary and pleasurable. On the other hand, fire burns and destroys- it can be dangerous and painful. In other words, fire is a metaphor for life itself- beautiful, pleasurable, and also incredibly painful at times. But if you offer your awareness as a gift to this moment as it is- v’hiktir hamizbeiakh-your awareness will burn of the altar of the present, reiakh nikhoakh- your connection to this moment in the face of both pleasure and pain is like a pleasing aroma, azkarata Lashem- bringing the remembrance of the Divine Oneness within which everything appears and disappears. Of course, this isn’t always easy, because of what I call the “yeah but” principle. One moment you’re relaxed, open and in harmony with Reality, and the next moment something happens that throws you off, and your mind says, “yeah but…” That’s why offering the minkha- the gift of your Presence- azkarata Lashem- it must be a remembrance of the Oneness that you recall to yourself every day, as it says in the seder, Kol y’mei khayiekha- all the days of your life. And when you remember the Oneness, you actually re-member yourself- meaning, your consciousness that’s become fragmented and contracted can relax back into the open field that is your nature. So on this Shabbat Tzav, the Sabbath of Command, of Mitzvah, may we receive this mitzvah of re-membering- practicing daily, nightly and constantly the return to Presence and opening to the love that flows from there. Good Shabbos!!! Locked in the Bathroom- Parshat Tzav 3/24/2016 5 Comments Last week, I accidentally locked myself in the bathroom. The doorknob had broken a few days before. I went in to use the bathroom, and when I was finished, I realized I couldn’t get out. Dang. I took the screen out of the window, but soon realized that if I tried to squeeze my body through that tiny opening, I would not only be stuck in the bathroom, but stuck halfway though the window. Not a good plan. I had no regular tools- only a bunch of various pieces of doorknob lying around the bathroom. So, I grabbed a piece of metal and started bashing the doorknob as hard as I could. That didn’t work. Only one thing left to do- Stop. Look. Sitting there and looking carefully, I could see something that looked like a lever inside the door hole in which the knob was recessed. I found a metal thing which fit right inside and carefully pushed the lever thing. The doorknob released and it came right open. It was a good test, and a perfect reminder of the importance of Presence in the midst of the absurdities and challenges of life. There are three phases for dealing with absurdities and challenges. This week’s reading, Parshat Tzav, begins with a description of the Olah- the “elevation” offering that the priests are to perform: “… olah al mokdah… kol halailah ad haboker- “…the elevation offering should stay on the flame all night until morning.” If you want to live an “elevated” life, let the "night" of challenges be reminders to remain alert. Keep the "flame burning all night long." This is the first stage. Then it says the Kohen- the priest- must take the ashes of the offering and remove them to a place outside the camp. In other words, after you’ve burned through the negativity and come out the other end, completely let go of it. Don’t keep it around by creating mental stories about it; let it out of your space. This is the second stage. Then it says that the Kohen should kindle wood on the altar in the morning as well. The fire is called: “… aish tamid- a continual flame- lo tikhbeh- it should never be extinguished.” In other words, after the challenge is over and you’ve let go of it, you’ve got to still practice being conscious. It doesn’t work very well to get conscious only when things are challenging! And fortunately, it’s actually pretty easy to stay present in the many uneventful moments that comprise much of our lives- don’t take them for granted! That’s the blessing of the many prayers, sacred phrases and Divine Names you can use to come deeply into Oneness of the present moment, all day long. In the days of the Baal Shem Tov, it once happened at the conclusion of Yom Kippur that the sky was particularly cloudy. The moon was completely obscured, preventing the Baal Shem from making the blessing on the new moon that's traditionally chanted after Yom Kippur. The Baal Shem sensed that the welfare of his people somehow depended on his making the Kiddush Levana- the Sanctification of the Moon- that night. Determined, he stood beneath the night sky, concentrating his mind to cause the clouds to disperse, but with no success. He eventually accepted his failure as what needed to be, and retired to his room. His disciples, however, knew nothing of the Baal Shem’s sadness and had begun to dance around the house in ecstatic celebration. Eventually their revelry burst through the door into the Baal Shem’s room. In their mad ecstasy they took him by the hand and drew him into the dance. Later the Baal Shem noticed- the sky had cleared and the waxing moon beamed brightly. The Baal Shem made the brakha- the blessing- and averted the danger. On this Shabbat Tzav, the Sabbath of Connection, may we connect the three phases as the Baal Shem tov did- accepting challenge and even failure when it happens, letting go of negativity and opening to the joy of the Dance, and blessing the holiness of each moment, regardless of whether our fortune is "waxing" or "waning". Good Shabbos, Hag Purim Samayakh! Keep Burning! Parshat Tzav 3/27/2015 4 Comments In the days of the Baal Shem Tov, it once happened at the conclusion of Yom Kippur that the sky was particularly cloudy. The moon was completely obscured, preventing the Baal Shem from making the blessing on the new moon as is traditionally chanted after Yom Kippur. The Baal Shem sensed that the welfare of his people somehow depended on his making the Kiddush Levana- the sanctification of the moon, that night. Anxiously he stood beneath the night sky, concentrating his mind to cause the clouds to disperse, but with no success. Sunk in gloom, he eventually gave up and retired to his room. His disciples, however, knew nothing of the Baal Shem’s sadness and had begun to dance around the house in ecstatic celebration. Eventually their revelry burst through the door into the Baal Shem’s room. In their mad ecstasy they took him by the hand and drew him into the dance. Later the Baal Shem noticed- the sky had cleared and the crescent moon beamed brightly. The Baal Shem made the blessing and averted the danger. At first glance, you might think that this story is about the power of joy and community- about how the master needed the innocent enthusiasm of his disciples to cheer him up, which then miraculously cleared the clouds from the sky. A fine and valid interpretation! But another way of seeing the story reveals a unity between all the different elements- the Baal Shem’s experience of the darkness, the joy of the disciples and the revelation of the moon are all parts of one happening. The point is not the disciples cheering him up; the point is the way in which he relates to the darkness. If you want true freedom, if you want to leave Egypt for good, you need to have a constant and unconditional commitment to being conscious. Meditation and prayer are only one part of the practice- the rest happens in the flow of life, in real time. Every part of life must be brought into the arena of practicing awareness. In order to understand how to do this, it can be useful to divide your life experience into three categories. The first involves moments when challenges come into your life from things you are committed to. For example, you might have challenges with work or children or relationships. In those moments, you must remain conscious that this is the arena of practice. Be committed to not letting the negativity take over your mind, creating pessimistic, complaining or blaming stories. Know that you have the power to completely be with the unpleasantness and that ultimately it can’t hurt you. It will certainly pass. Then, deal with the situation from that place. The second involves negativity that comes into your life from things you are not committed to. For example, someone cuts you off on the road or someone insults you at work. Or, it could be negativity from your own mind. Regardless of the source, if you are not committed to the relationship, eject it from your mind completely. Don’t waste a second struggling against the annoying co-worker or the bad driver. Be with whatever feelings arise, but let go of any thoughts that keep those feelings alive. Even better- make a blessing for those who bother you. If possible and appropriate, take action. Even a smile can transform some situations. The third involves the “empty” or “neutral” moments. When you are walking from one place to another, eating, driving and so on, there is no inherent content and the mind often wanders. Those times are such precious gifts because it’s not so difficult to be awake in those moments. Identify those moments- be aware of how they come in your day. When you brush your teeth, make your tea, whatever; use your mind on purpose. And that means either one of two things: either focus your thinking in an intentional way, or let go of your thinking and simply be present with whatever is happening. Focused thinking can be contemplation on either spiritual or practical things. It can be solving a problem or thinking a prayer of gratitude. Presence means knowing you are not your thinking. It means putting aside your thinking and simply being. Finally, take some time every day to step out of the flow of life. In order to practice in the three types of life experience, it is vital to separate from them to do your daily avodah- spiritual work. The vital elements of avodah are also three- meditation (quiet presence, just being with Being), prayer (expression of your heart toward Being) and contemplation or learning (like what you are doing right now as you read this). There is a hint of these three life situations in the avodah that is described in this week’s reading. Parshat Tzav begins with a description of the Olah- the “elevation” offering that the priests are to perform. It says that the “olah al mokdah… kol halailah ad haboker- the elevation offering should stay on the flame all night until morning.” In order to be “elevated”, you must remain alert the whole time you are experiencing something challenging or negative. Don’t become unconscious! Keep the flame burning all night long. This corresponds to being awake as you deal with challenges in things you are committed to, such as relationships and work. In our opening story, this is when the Baal Shem tries his best to disperse the clouds, and then eventually retires to his room to fully be with his sadness. Then it says the Kohen- the priest- must take the ashes of the offering and remove them to a place outside the camp. In other words, after you have burned through the negativity, completely let go of it. Don’t keep it alive by creating mental stories about it! Get it out of your space. This corresponds to negativity from things you are not committed to. Don’t waste your energy on things that don’t matter! This is when the Baal Shem lets go of the sadness and joins in the dance. Then it says that the Kohen should kindle wood on the altar in the morning as well. The fire is an “aish tamid- a continual flame- lo tikhbeh- it should never be extinguished.” In other words, after the challenge is over and life has become neutral again, you should still remain conscious. Don’t just try to get conscious when things are challenging! This corresponds to the many neutral moments that comprise much of our lives. It’s easy to be awake in those moments- don’t take them for granted! This is when the Baal Shem makes his blessing on the moon. The moon, waxing and waning, sometimes visible and sometimes not, represents the up and down flow of the every day. Sanctify the ordinary- as it says, “when you lie down and when you get up”. On this Shabbat HaGadol- the Great Sabbath preceding our festival of liberation, may we all grow in our constant practice of being conscious and sanctifying every moment of this precious existence. Good Shabbos! The Power of Preparation- Passover and Parshat Tzav 3/21/2013 4 Comments There are moments when our situation dictates our next move, and there is no ambiguity about what we must do. If there were a baby in the middle of the road, for example, it is clear we should rescue the baby. In such a moment, there is no leeway for weighing options, for considering which path to take. The path is clear, and the mind is wholly present in the task at hand. We might call this active presence- being totally present and committed in one’s action. There is also a situation we might call passive presence, or receiving presence. This could be when you receive something or behold something so satisfying that there is no part of you that is left out of the experience; there is a sense of arrival. The present is not experienced as a stepping-stone to some other moment, but the present is IT. An example of this might be beholding something awesome in nature, or even drinking a glass of water when you are parched. Ordinarily, these moments tend to be few. The aim of spiritual work, however, is to totally reorient yourself to become fully present in every moment, to connect deeply with reality as it presents itself now, always now, in this moment. To do this, we have to shift our perspective from mind and thought to the awareness behind mind and thought. Just as both the baby in the road and the satisfying experience automatically bring one to the fullness of the present beyond thought, so we must learn to bring ourselves fully to the present, even and especially in ordinary and mundane moments. This is the hidden message in this week’s parsha, Tzav. Throughout the Torah, when G-d tells Moses to communicate something to the Israelites, it usually says, “G-d spoke to Moses saying, ‘speak to the Israelites…’”. In this case, rather than saying, “speak to the Israelites”, it says “command the Israelites”. That’s the meaning of the word Tzav- it is the command form of the word “command”. By saying, “command” rather than “speak”, it implies a sense of intensity, and calls the one commanded to a state of presence. To receive a “commandment” is different from receiving a “suggestion” or a “possibility”; the baby is in the road, and you must act. However, the Torah then goes on to enumerate tedious details about certain ritual sacrifices. The subject matter is not even new; it is merely a continuation of last week’s parsha, which introduced the subject (see last week’s blog entry). Why is the special word tzav used in this context? But this is the whole point. Much of our lives are spent with ordinary, repetitive things- the daily grind of keeping things moving. The ritual sacrifices are a metaphor for how to frame the ordinary: By bringing our awareness fully into each moment, the “ordinary” is transformed into something sacred. The word for sacrifice, korban, actually doesn’t mean sacrifice at all; it means “drawing near”. The “daily grind” becomes a way of drawing near to the Ultimate, for everything is part of the Ultimate. Once the mind ceases pulling us away from this moment, we can see this moment as an opportunity to awaken, to be a vessel for consciousness. This is also the meaning of the instructions to “keep the fire on the altar burning all night” (Lev. 6:2). The “day” represents those special experiences and deeds that bring us to the sacred and the fullness of presence. The “night” represents the ordinary and mundane, when we tend to fall asleep in the spiritual sense. To “keep the fire burning” in the “night” means to transform the ordinary into a korban- into a sacred moment through the power of awareness. This lesson is a powerful reminder as we move into the preparation time for Pesakh (Passover). Preparing for Pesakh has a very mundane, detail-oriented aspect to it, involving going through your fridge and cabinets to find all the hameitz (foods made with wheat, oats, barley or spelt, except of course matzah) to either eliminate it or sell it. (Click here for info on traditional Pesakh preparations- and don't let it freak you out! Even a little effort at whatever level you are comfortable can be very powerful). Often, this will reveal hidden dirtiness and inspire a deep cleaning of the house. The hameitz is a symbol for ego and separation from the present. The matzah, in its flatness and simplicity, represents full intimacy with the present and freedom from ego. So what is the lesson? The ego craves something special. It wants to be impressed, and to impress. But preparing for Pesakhis an opportunity to embrace the mundane, to discover the sacred in the cleaning of kitchen muck. In surrendering to these mundane tasks and doing them not as drudgery but as “commandment”, as mitzvah, we open ourselves to receive the true and liberating power of Pesakh. When you eat the matzah this Pesakh, may you taste the joy, sweetness and purity of real liberation, and may your liberation bring this world a step closer to a global awakening and healing. Hag Samayakh! Good Shaabbiiiisss!
There is a story that the disciples of the Baal Shem Tov once heard of a certain rabbi who was known as a great spiritual teacher. They wished to attend one of his teachings, and the Baal Shem gave them permission. Before they set out, they asked their master: “How shall we know if he is a true teacher or a fraud?”
“Ask him how to eliminate distracting thoughts,” replied the Baal Shem. “If he gives you advice, he is not a true teacher, for it is the task of every person until the hour of their death to do battle with the extraneous, and continuously returning attention to the true.” There is a misconception that, in meditation, one should completely turn off the thinking mind. This is part of an even broader misconception, that the fruit of spiritual awakening is the elimination of sorrow and a permanent state of happiness and bliss. Actually, there are no permanent states – as the story says, “until the hour of their death…” Asking how to achieve a permanent state would be like asking how to clean the kitchen in such a way that it never gets dirty again… or how to eat so as to never get hungry again. The task is not achieving a permanent state of cleanliness or fullness, but rather it is learning how to effectively clean and eat! On the inner level, this means not stopping the mind, but shifting from involvement with thought to being the open space of consciousness within which thought comes and goes; it is the severing of one’s clinging to the thinking mind. This cutting away of attachment to thought is represented by the Seventeenth Path, the Hebrew letter ז zayin. Zayin can mean “weapon” or “sword,” pointing to our ability to “cut” the inner “chains of bondage,” which is also the theme of Passover, the festival of liberation. The central ceremony of Passover, the ritual meal called the seder (meaning “order”) is based around the number four, hinting at four primary ways that we can sever the ties of inner bondage and get free from “Egypt,” from the constrictedness of Mitzrayim. We can see these archetypal fours reflected in the Four Questions: מַה נִּשְׁתַּנָּה הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה מִכָּל הַלֵּילוֹת Mah nishtanah halailah hazeh mikol haleilot? Why is this night different from all other nights? Actually, the Four Questions are really one question, with four answers! Here is the first answer: שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אָנוּ אוֹכְלִין חָמֵץ וּמַצָּה, הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה – כֻּלּוֹ מַצָּה Sheb’khol haleilot anu okhlin hameitz umatzah, halailah hazeh kulo matzah! On all other nights we eat hameitz and matzah, but on this night, only matzah! Matzah is the ritual food of Pesakh, the lekhem oni, the “Bread of Affliction.” But what is matzah on the symbolic level? Ordinary bread rises through the action of the yeast; as the yeast ferments the bread, tiny bubbles of gas cause the dough to puff up. The dough pulls away from itself because of those tiny bubbles, and in a similar way, our consciousness also pulls away from itself when we engage in the process of thinking: Everything in our experience, on all levels, happens within a singular, vast, field of consciousness. This field is the essence of who we are; it is our essence because it is the one thing that is essential to our existence. All experiences, all thoughts, all feelings come and go, but they come and go within the field of consciousness. When we think about something, we create the illusion that there is something in our experience that is separate, something other than this consciousness; there is the sense of “me” thinking, on one hand, and the thing that “I” am “thinking about,” on the other. The thinking mind is like the rising dough, like hameitz; the “bubbles” of thought cause consciousness to “puff up,” and “pull away from itself,” creating a sense of separation, a sense of “me” and “that.” Matzah, on the other hand, is simplicity; it is the cessation of involvement with thought, the coming into connection with the experience of this moment, a merging back into oneness. We can see a hint of this in the letters that make up the word matzah, which is מצה mem-tzaddie-hei. Mem מ is mayim, water, which merges with whatever vessel contains it. Water does not “pull away” from the sides of the vessel, it simply takes the shape of the container. Mem means no resistance. Free from resistance, the quality of tzaddie emerges. Tzaddie is the tzadik, the perfected person who is fully surrendered, fully trusting, accepting completely whatever happens as an expression of the Divine. With that sense of total Trust in What Is, one can breath deeply; this is the hei which makes the H sound, the sound of breathing. In practice, we can work these three letters backwards – begin by bringing awareness into your breathing. As you become present, worry and anxiety begin to melt away, making space for Trust. In that Trust, there can be a releasing of resistance. This matzah practice of coming out of the “Egypt” of excess thinking, corresponds to a different grouping of four in the seder – the “Four Children.” Particularly, freedom from excess thinking is the תָּם Tam, the “Simple Child.” שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אָנוּ אוֹכְלִין שְׁאָר יְרָקוֹת – הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה מָרוֹר Sheb’khol haleilot anu okhlin sh’ar y’rakot, halailah hazeh maror! On all other nights we eat many vegetables, but on this night, maror! In our home, we use fresh horseradish as maror. While our family seders are not necessarily very meditative, the eating of the maror is the exception – it is a practice of simply being with the intense discomfort and burning sensation of the horseradish. In the deeper sense, the willingness to be with physical discomfort hints at the inner practice of letting go, of not needing to be seen in any particular way, not needing to uphold any status or image. Again, we can see this reflected in the letters: Maror is מרור mem, reish, vav, reish. We looked already at mem. Reish ר hints at the word reisheet, which means “beginning.” This is having a “beginners mind,” not being an expert, but seeing things in a fresh and new way, without preconception. Vav ו is the Hebrew prefix which means “and,” hinting at the practice of saying “yes and” to whatever arises, affirming rather than resisting the truth of experience in the present. The eating of the maror is an especially powerful opportunity to practice this. The second reish is like the word rosh, “head.” It means the leader or head of something, such as a rosh yeshivah, a “head of school.” The shape of the rosh invokes the image of a bowed head, a sign of respect for the rosh. It is the acknowledgment that Reality is “above” us, of taking an attitude of respect and humility. All this points to getting free from craving status, or self-image. This is the חָכָם Hakham, the “Wise Child,” because relinquishing the cravings of ego is a path of wisdom. Furthermore, חָכָם hakham comes from חָכמָה hokhmah, which means “wisdom,” but also means consciousness itself – the spacious field of awareness beyond all form, beyond ego. שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אֵין אָנוּ מַטְבִּילִין אֲפִילוּ פַּעַם אֶחָת – הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה שְׁתֵּי פְעָמִים Sheb’khol haleilot ayn anu matbilin afilu pa’am ekhat, halailah hazeh sh’tei p’amim! – On all other nights we do not dip even once, but on this night, twice! This refers to the practices of dipping the karpas, the green vegetable, into salt water, as well as dipping the maror, the bitter herb, into haroset, a dish made from fruits and nuts, symbolizing the mortar of the bricks that our ancestors were forced to build with. But on a deeper level, the dipping שְׁתֵּי פְעָמִים sh’tei p’amim, “two time,” hints at the practice of inquiry, or deep questioning. Generally, we tend to assume what is true and what isn’t, without any deep thinking. But with inquiry, not only we do we really analyze the truth or untruth of things thoroughly, but we also analyze thought itself. The truth about Truth is that, while we can and must do our best to think deeply and understand things, our minds are not able to know anything with absolute certainty except the truth of what is arising in experience at this moment. When we recognize this obvious but illusive fact, we can see through and get free from our conditioning and beliefs. This is the רָשָׁע Rasha, the so-called “Wicked Child,” because those who question assumptions and norms are often considered to be “wicked.” But this is a channeling of that rebellious tendency toward one’s own ego – that is, toward identification and imprisonment in one’s own beliefs. Finally, we come to the last of the four questions/answers: שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אָנוּ אוֹכְלִין בֵּין יוֹשְׁבִין וּבֵין מְסֻבִּין – הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה כֻּלָּנוּ מְסֻבִּין Sheb’khol haleilot anu okhlin bein yoshvin uvein m’subin, halailah hazeh kulanu m’subin! – On all other nights we eat sitting or reclining, but on this night, only reclining! What is מְסֻבִּין m’subin, reclining, on the inner level? When we sit, a small part of our bodies is in contact with the chair or ground that supports us. But with reclining, we bring far more of our bodies into connection with our support. We can see this reflected in the letters for m’subin, which are מְסֻבִּין – mem, samekh, bet, yod, nun. Samekh ס actually means “support.” Its shape is the circle, hinting at our relationships with one another, and the support we give and receive in community. Bet ב is bayit, which means “house,” hinting at the most basic expression of supporting one another, which is hospitality. Yod י is the tiniest of letters and the starting point for drawing all the letters. In this way, it is another representation of simple awareness, which is the starting point of all experience, and freedom from excess thinking. Nun נ begins the word noflim, which means “fallen ones,” hinting at the recipients of support – those who are in need of support from others. This is expressed in the opening kavanah of the seder: “Let all who are hungry come and eat!” All of this brings us back to the straightforward meaning of reclining, which is simple enjoyment, dwelling like royalty as we drink and dine together. This is going out from the bondage of the heart – the joy of receiving and giving in the moment. This is the also שֶׁאֵינוֹ יוֹדֵעַ לִשְׁאוֹל She’einu Yode’a Lish’ol – the “One Who Doesn’t Know How To Ask,” because where there is genuine enjoyment and love for one another, there are no more questions – just appreciation of that which is obviously and simply good, for its own sake…
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God Never Passes Over – Shabbat Pesakh
4/6/2020 0 Comments Rabbi Raphael of Bershad, the most beloved disciple of Rabbi Pinkhas of Koretz, told of an encounter he had with his master: “Once I complained to my rebbe that in times of adversity it is very difficult to keep my faith in the Divine. It seems in such times that God is hiding His Face from us when we are unhappy. I asked him, “What I can do to strengthen my faith?” My rebbe replied, “If someone is hiding from you, it only works if you are fooled into thinking the person has truly disappeared. But if you know that they are hiding, then the hiding ceases to be a hiding.” The experience of inner freedom, like all experiences, waxes and wanes like the moon. But it only becomes truly hidden when we imagine that it is somewhere other than we are. This is the essential obstacle: the belief in God as something other than this. There is a hint in this week’s special Torah reading for Pesakh (Exodus 33:12-23): וַיֹּ֨אמֶר מֹשֶׁ֜ה אֶל־יְהוָ֗ה רְ֠אֵה אַתָּ֞ה אֹמֵ֤ר אֵלַי֙ הַ֚עַל אֶת־הָעָ֣ם הַזֶּ֔ה וְאַתָּה֙ לֹ֣א הֽוֹדַעְתַּ֔נִי אֵ֥ת אֲשֶׁר־תִּשְׁלַ֖ח עִמִּ֑י וְאַתָּ֤ה אָמַ֙רְתָּ֙ יְדַעְתִּ֣יךָֽ בְשֵׁ֔ם וְגַם־מָצָ֥אתָ חֵ֖ן בְּעֵינָֽי׃ Moses said to the Divine, “Look! You said to me, ‘Lead this people forward,’ but You have not made known to me whom You will send with me. Furthermore, You have said, ‘I have known you by name, and also you have found grace in My eyes.’ וְעַתָּ֡ה אִם־נָא֩ מָצָ֨אתִי חֵ֜ן בְּעֵינֶ֗יךָ הוֹדִעֵ֤נִי נָא֙ אֶת־דְּרָכֶ֔ךָ וְאֵדָ֣עֲךָ֔ לְמַ֥עַן אֶמְצָא־חֵ֖ן בְּעֵינֶ֑יךָ וּרְאֵ֕ה כִּ֥י עַמְּךָ֖ הַגּ֥וֹי הַזֶּֽה׃ “Now, if I have truly found grace in your eyes, please let me know Your ways, that I may know You and continue find grace in Your eyes, and see that this nation is Your people.” Moses is afraid that God won’t be present with them anymore, because of the incident with the golden calf. But God answers: וַיֹּאמַ֑ר פָּנַ֥י יֵלֵ֖כוּ וַהֲנִחֹ֥תִי לָֽךְ׃ And (the Divine) said, “My Presence will go (along with you) and be restfulness for you.” God is reassuring Moses that they should be at peace, because the Presence will always be with them. But Moses still doesn’t believe it: וַיֹּ֖אמֶר אֵלָ֑יו אִם־אֵ֤ין פָּנֶ֙יךָ֙ הֹלְכִ֔ים אַֽל־תַּעֲלֵ֖נוּ מִזֶּֽה׃ And he said to (the Divine), “If Your Presence doesn’t go (with us), don’t make us leave this place! וּבַמֶּ֣ה יִוָּדַ֣ע אֵפ֗וֹא כִּֽי־מָצָ֨אתִי חֵ֤ן בְּעֵינֶ֙יךָ֙ אֲנִ֣י וְעַמֶּ֔ךָ הֲל֖וֹא בְּלֶכְתְּךָ֣ עִמָּ֑נוּ וְנִפְלֵ֙ינוּ֙ אֲנִ֣י וְעַמְּךָ֔ מִכָּ֨ל־הָעָ֔ם אֲשֶׁ֖ר עַל־פְּנֵ֥י הָאֲדָמָֽה׃ “For how shall it be known that I have found favor in Your eyes – I and Your people –unless You go with us, and I and Your people be made distinct from every people on the face of the earth?” God already told Moses that the Presence is always with them, but Moses seems to be caught in the belief that it can be otherwise; he’s afraid that he and the people he leads won’t be special anymore if God isn’t with them. This is the psychology of the ego – the ego imagines that God can be present or not, and that if God is present, the ego will have a feeling of being special. We can substitute many other words for “God” – we might say peace, wisdom, ease, wholeness, enlightenment, or any number of things. The point is, the anxiety of the ego comes from the belief that That which we seek is conditional, that it might leave us. That’s the true Mitzrayim, the true “bondage in Egypt” – the egoic belief that God is “elsewhere.” But Moses isn’t convinced; he needs proof: יֹּאמַ֑ר הַרְאֵ֥נִי נָ֖א אֶת־כְּבֹדֶֽךָ׃ He said, “Please show me Your Presence!” וַיֹּ֗אמֶר אֲנִ֨י אַעֲבִ֤יר כָּל־טוּבִי֙ עַל־פָּנֶ֔יךָ וְקָרָ֧אתִֽי בְשֵׁ֛ם יְהוָ֖ה לְפָנֶ֑יךָ וְחַנֹּתִי֙ אֶת־אֲשֶׁ֣ר אָחֹ֔ן וְרִחַמְתִּ֖י אֶת־אֲשֶׁ֥ר אֲרַחֵֽם׃ And (the Divine) said, “I will make all My Goodness pass before you, and I will proclaim before you the Divine Name, and the Grace with which I Grace and the Compassion with which I am Compassionate. וַיֹּ֕אמֶר לֹ֥א תוּכַ֖ל לִרְאֹ֣ת אֶת־פָּנָ֑י כִּ֛י לֹֽא־יִרְאַ֥נִי הָאָדָ֖ם וָחָֽי׃ And (the Divine) said, “You cannot see My Face, for no person can see My Face and live.” וַיֹּ֣אמֶר יְהוָ֔ה הִנֵּ֥ה מָק֖וֹם אִתִּ֑י וְנִצַּבְתָּ֖ עַל־הַצּֽוּר׃ And the Divine said, “Behold the ‘Place’ with Me, and stand upon the rock. וְהָיָה֙ בַּעֲבֹ֣ר כְּבֹדִ֔י וְשַׂמְתִּ֖יךָ בְּנִקְרַ֣ת הַצּ֑וּר וְשַׂכֹּתִ֥י כַפִּ֛י עָלֶ֖יךָ עַד־עָבְרִֽי׃ “And it will be as My Presence passes by, I will put you in a cleft of the rock and shield you with My hand until I have passed by. וַהֲסִרֹתִי֙ אֶת־כַּפִּ֔י וְרָאִ֖יתָ אֶת־אֲחֹרָ֑י וּפָנַ֖י לֹ֥א יֵרָאֽוּ׃ “Then I will remove My hand and you will see My back; but My Face must not be seen.” In order for Moses to understand this Divine message, he must “stand upon the rock” – meaning, become still – be present. Then, he can see God’s “back” – meaning, he will see everything, all forms of existence, as manifestations of the same Divine Presence. But why can’t we see “God’s Face” directly? Because of the Divine is the ever-present Presence in all being, that means we are God’s Face; the eyeball cannot see itself; we cannot look at our own face. Unless, of course, we look into a mirror; in this sense we can even see God’s Face as well, as when Jacob makes peace with his brother Esau, and says to him: רָאִ֣יתִי פָנֶ֗יךָ כִּרְאֹ֛ת פְּנֵ֥י אֱלֹהִ֖ים – “Seeing your face is like seeing the Divine Face!” When we are truly present with another person, when face meets face, then truly Face meets Face: אֲבָל שְׁנַיִם שֶׁיּוֹשְׁבִין וְיֵשׁ בֵּינֵיהֶם דִּבְרֵי תוֹרָה, שְׁכִינָה שְׁרוּיָה בֵינֵיהֶם But, when two sit together and there are words of the Torah between them, the Divine Presence dwells within them… Don’t read it as conditional: “If there are words of Torah, then the Divine Presence dwells,” but rather, the “Words of Torah” are telling them: “The Divine Presence always dwells!” פָּנַ֥י יֵלֵ֖כוּ וַהֲנִחֹ֥תִי לָֽךְ׃ My Presence always goes with you – rest in That Four Stages of Liberation – Passover of Awakening 4/15/2019 0 Comments Recently someone told me that he was angry at someone. And, not only was he angry, but he likes being angry; he had no desire to “let go” or “get over it.” Then, a few days later, another person told me almost the same thing about someone else, but with the addition: “I will never forgive.” There’s an idea that the festivals contain certain transformational potentials, and that as we enter their seasons, the barriers that we need to transcend start coming to the surface. And certainly, anger and non-forgiveness are ways that we can get stuck in Mitzrayim, in narrow identification with feelings of woundedness, of being a victim. But getting free doesn’t have to mean a denial or pushing away of our true feelings; rather, it is precisely our true feelings that are the means to liberation. They are the gravity of unconsciousness that forces us to either wake up or get pulled in. Without them, there can be no liberation; that’s the sacred role of Egypt and Pharaoh. According to the structure of the Passover seder, this process of liberation has four basic stages, corresponding to the four cups of wine. The Jerusalem Talmud (10a) asks, “Why do we have four cups of wine? Rabbi Yochanan said in the name of Rabbi Benayah, this refers to the four stages of redemption.” לָכֵ֞ן אֱמֹ֥ר לִבְנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֘ל אֲנִ֣י יְהוָה֒ וְהוֹצֵאתִ֣י אֶתְכֶ֗ם מִתַּ֙חַת֙ סִבְלֹ֣ת מִצְרַ֔יִם וְהִצַּלְתִּ֥י אֶתְכֶ֖ם מֵעֲבֹדָתָ֑ם וְגָאַלְתִּ֤י אֶתְכֶם֙ בִּזְר֣וֹעַ נְטוּיָ֔ה וּבִשְׁפָטִ֖ים גְּדֹלִֽים׃ וְלָקַחְתִּ֨י אֶתְכֶ֥ם לִי֙ לְעָ֔ם וְהָיִ֥יתִי לָכֶ֖ם לֵֽאלֹהִ֑ים וִֽידַעְתֶּ֗ם כִּ֣י אֲנִ֤י יְהוָה֙ אֱלֹ֣הֵיכֶ֔ם הַמּוֹצִ֣יא אֶתְכֶ֔ם מִתַּ֖חַת סִבְל֥וֹת מִצְרָֽיִם׃ Therefore, say to the children of Israel: “I am Reality. I will bring you out from under the burdens of Egypt, and I will rescue you from their work. I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and through great judgments. I will take you to Me as a people, and I will be for you as a God. And you shall know that it is I, Existence Itself, your own Divinity, Who brought you out from under the burdens of Egypt…” (Exodus 6:6 – 7) Hotzeiti – I will bring you out: There is a difference between the experience of liberation and the reality of liberation. Experience is always in motion; the degree to which we experience freedom changes from moment to moment. The reality of our freedom, on the other hand, is absolute; it is our task to recognize it and live it, regardless of our experience in the moment. The experience we’re having right now arises within our field of awareness; awareness is not trapped or compelled by it in any way. I am Reality – I will bring you out. The simple recognition of our own being as the vast and formless field of awareness within which this present experience is now unfolding brings us out from the illusion of being stuck, into the reality of our inherent freedom. Hitzalti – I will rescue you: Once we recognize our freedom in the present, there is always the possibility that we will forget and again get drawn back into the dream of bondage. After all, the illusion is so formidable! The Egyptian army is behind us, the sea is in front of us – what shall we do? Our recognition must become commitment; we must remember to return ourselves to this recognition again and again in the face of the seductive and encroaching tides of experience. Ga’alti – I will redeem you: When we come to the recognition of and commitment to our absolute freedom in the present, there can be a tendency to deny our past, which only creates a more subtle form of bondage. But when we embrace our past, when we recognize that ALL of our past experience, no matter how discordant or even evil, has brought us to this present moment of wakefulness, there can be redemption. There is no doubt – slavery and oppression are wrong. They are to be opposed. But, they are part of our sacred history, and through the telling, they have a sacred role. Gam zeh l’tovah – this too is for the good. This is not to whitewash or deny our pain; it is to embrace the supreme potential given to us by that pain. Lakakhti – I will take you: It is true, there is nothing more vital for our own wellbeing then liberation. Anger and resentment can be sweet in a strange way, but they are nothing compared to freedom. And yet, it may take many years of bondage and many plagues to convince us that freedom is preferable. We cling to our bondage as if our life depended on it! And in a way, it does, because the price of freedom is our very identity; freedom changes who we think we are. At this stage, we give up fascination with our own story, with our own process, and meet the Divine at Sinai to answer Its call. Freedom is not merely for ourselves; it is the liberation of Reality Itself, waking up to Itself… Re-Membering for Passover 4/3/2017 What is spiritual bondage? When the Torah describes the beginning of the Israelite’s bondage in Egypt, is says, “Vaya’avidu Mitzrayim et b’nai Yisrael b’farekh- Egypt enslaved the children of Israel with farekh- with crushing servitude.” Now within this verse are three hints about the nature of spiritual bondage. The first hint is in the word farekh, which means crushing labor. Now the root of farekh means to break apart or fracture, hence its usage to describe “crushing” labor. The obvious hint here is that spiritual bondage is unpleasant- it involves suffering. But on a deeper level, it hints that there is some kind of breaking or fracturing happening, and that’s the fracturing of Reality Itself as it appears in your consciousness. Consider- in this moment, everything is as it is, and your consciousness is meeting whatever is appearing- your sensations, your feelings, your perception of what’s around you, whatever thoughts arise, and so on. As long as consciousness simply meets what is, there’s a wholeness to Everything. But when something unpleasant arises, whether external or internal it doesn’t matter, because all experience arises within the one space of consciousness, there’s a tendency for consciousness to contract into resistance, in the form of thoughts, feelings, or even words and actions- “dang farnet- what the??”- that’s resistance- that’s the farekh- the tearing apart of Reality, because now there’s me over here, resisting that over there, even if the “over there” is on my own mind. This move from Wholeness to an opposing position implies a kind of contraction, because now rather than simply being the space of awareness within which all experience happens, you become a finite entity, resisting something within your experience. This brings us to the second hint in this verse, the word Mitzrayim. Mitzrayin means Egypt, but it comes from the root tzar which means “narrow,” probably because Egypt was built along the Nile. But metaphorically, it hints that to be in mitzrayim is to be in a narrow state; the native and full spaciousness of your consciousness gets contracted into a fixed point of view- the narrow “me” called “ego.” And what’s the basic activity of ego? Ego tries to control things. That’s because ego feels disconnected from the fullness of its experience. That’s the basic hallmark of ego- that feeling of incompleteness, and with it, the need to change things in order to be okay. That egoic feeling of incompleteness comes from the contraction into a mitzrayim state that happens spontaneously in reaction to farekh- suffering that breaks apart the wholeness of your experience. And this brings us to the third hint in the verse, vaya’avidu, which means “enslaved.” The arising of suffering, represented by farekh, which causes the contraction into the ego, represented by Mitzrayim is obviously not something we consciously choose; it seems to just happen to us. Vaya’avidu Mitzrayim et b’nai Yisrael- that contraction just seems to grab you and enslave you against your will. And yet, on a deeper level, ya’avidu is related to the word Avodah, which means work or service not in the negative sense of slavery, but in the positive sense of prayer, or spiritual practice- which is an act of love and devotion. The hint here is that the experience of suffering and the spiritual bondage that comes from it has a purpose, and that is to be transformed into avodah, into a path of liberation. Because it’s only from experiencing and getting caught in all kinds of spiritual bondage, and then finding your way out of bondage, that you can really mature and evolve. A baby in the womb is already whole and one with all being, but it’s not liberated, because there’s no appreciation of the Wholeness. In order to know liberation, you have to first taste bondage. The danger, of course, is that the experience of bondage, however that manifests for you, seduces you into a negative attitude and you become resigned to your stuck-ness. That’s why the Torah says, “l’maan tizkor et yom tzeitkha me’eretz mitzrayim kol y’mei khayiekha- that you remember your going out from Egypt all the days of your life.” This verse, which also appears near the beginning of the seder, urges us to constantly remember that our basic nature is freedom, reminding ourselves every day, and even every night as the words of the seder say, “Kol y’mei khayiekha, l’havi haleilot- all the days of your life means, the nights also.” And what’s the every day and night practice for remembering the going out of Egypt? It’s the chanting of the Sh’ma, because the Sh’ma reminds us, Hashem Eloheinu- Hashem- All existence- meaning everything that arises in your experience- is Eloheinu- your own inner divinity, meaning your awareness. Then it says, Hashem Ekhad- Existence, or Reality is One. Again and again you may get pulled into farekh- that involuntary suffering in which we contract into the egoic mitzrayim state, but if you remember ekhad- the oneness of Being, you can find your way back into harmony with what is through the verse that follows: ve’ahavtah et Hashem Elohekha- Love Hashem your Divinity, that’s the Hesed- the lovingkindness of offering your awareness as a gift to this moment just as it is, even if it feels like suffering, that’s the first part of meditation, b’khol l’vavkha uvkhol nafshekha uv’khol me’odekha- with all your heart and soul and might- that’s the Gevurah, the strength, of grounding and sustaining your awareness in your body- that’s the second part of meditation, and of course, Sh’ma Yisrael- Listen, be aware, and know yourself as the awareness- spacious, free and borderless- that’s the third part of meditation. The Perfect Passover 4/20/2016 3 Comments One Passo\ver, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev led the first night seder so perfectly, that every word and every ritual glowed with all the holiness of its mystical significance. In the dawn, after the celebration, Levi Yitzhak sat in his room, joyful and proud that he had performed such an perfect seder. But all of a sudden, a Voice from above spoke to him: “More pleasing to me than your seder is that of Hayim the water-carrier.” “Hayim the water-carrier?” wondered Levi Yitzhak, “Who’s that?” He summoned all his disciples together, and asked if anyone had heard of Hayim the water-carrier. Nobody had. So, at the tzaddik’s bidding, some of the disciples set off in search of him. They asked around for many hours before they were led to a poor neighborhood outside the city. There, they were shown a little house that was falling apart. They knocked on the door. A woman came out and asked what they wanted. When they told her, she was amazed. “Yes,” she said, “Hayim the water carrier is my husband, but he can’t go with you, because he drank a lot yesterday and he’s sleeping it off now. If you wake him, you’ll see he won’t even be able to move.” “It’s the rabbi’s orders!” answered the disciples. They barged in and shook him from his sleep. He only blinked at them and couldn’t understand what they wanted. Then he rolled over and tried to go on sleeping. So they grabbed him, dragged him from his bed, and carried him on their shoulders to the tzaddik'shouse. There they sat him down, bewildered, before Levi Yitzhak. The rabbi leaned toward him and said- “Reb Hayim, dear heart, what kavanah, what mystic intention was in your mind when you gathered the hameitz- the leavened foods- to burn in preparation for the seder?” The water carrier looked at him dully, shook his head and replied, “Master, I just looked into every corner and gathered it together.” The astonished tzaddik continued questioning him- “And what yihudim- what holy unifications did you contemplate when you burned it?” The man pondered, looked distressed, and said hesitatingly, “Master, I forgot to burn it, and now I remember- it’s all still lying on the shelf.” When Rabbi Levi Yitzhak heard this, he grew more and more uncertain, but he continued asking- “And tell me Reb Hayim, how did you celebrate the seder?” Then something seemed to quicken in his eyes and limbs, and he replied in humble tones- “Rabbi, I shall tell you the truth. You see, I had always heard that it’s forbidden to drink brandy on all eight days of the festival, and so yesterday morning I drank enough to last me eight days. Then I got tired and fell asleep. “When my wife woke me in the evening, she said, ‘why don’t you celebrate the seder like all the other Jews?’ “I said, ‘What do you want from me? I’m an ignorant man and my father was an ignorant man. I don’t know how to read, and I don’t know what to do, or what not to do.’ “My wife answered, ‘You must know some little song or something!’ “I thought for a moment, and then a melody and words came to me that I had heard as a child. I sang- “Mah nishtana halaila hazeh mikol haleilot- Why is this night different from all other nights? “I thought, 'why is this night different?' “Then, something strange happened. It was as if I awoke from a dream, and everything was suddenly more real, more present. It was as if the night itself woke up all around me… “Then I looked and saw the table before me, and the cloth gleamed like the sun, and on it were platters of matzot, eggs, and other dishes, with bottles of red wine. So we ate of the matzot and eggs and drank of the wine. “I was overcome with joy. I lifted my cup to the heavens and said, 'Oh Hashem- I drink to you!' “Then we sang and rejoiced in the nishtana- the specialness- of that moment… then I got tired and fell asleep.” So my friends- before you fall asleep! Why is this moment different? On this Shabbat Pesakh, the Sabbath of Passing, may we awaken to know that everything is passing, savoring the unique specialness of this moment. Let the unfolding of Reality become what it will, letting go of whatever it was, and breathing the intention of peace and love and awareness into every thought, every word, every act. Let’s go forth, again, out of mitzrayim- out of constriction- and into the mystery of the Presence as the present. This moment is truly different from all other moments, and always is…
There is a story that a well-respected woman once came to seek advice from Rabbi Avraham Yehoshua Heschel of Apt. But as soon as he saw her, his power of inner vision caused him to perceive that she had been cheating on her husband. He immediately lashed out at her:
“Adulteress! You sinned only a short time ago, and now you have the insolence to enter this holy place seeking my advice?” The woman was taken aback, but then gathered herself together and spoke from the depths of her heart: “The Lord of the world has patience with the wicked, and is in no hurry to punish. God does not reveal their sins to anyone, so as to not prevent them from returning out of shame. But the rabbi of Apt sits there in his chair and cannot resist revealing what the Creator has kept hidden!” From that time forward the rabbi of Apt would tell that story, saying, “There was only one time when a person got the best of me – and it was that woman.” There is a danger in spiritual growth, in that as we transform and rise above the unconsciousness of our past, we tend to become more likely to judge others unfavorably. Transcendence of ego does not eliminate ego; we cannot “take our hands off the steering wheel” so to speak, but rather we must always be as vigilantly present to not get caught by reactivity. As Rabbi Pinhas of Koretz taught: “If you want to guide people in your house the right way, you must not express anger at them, for anger contaminates not only your own soul, but the souls of those with whom you are angry.” At the same time, he also said, “I keep my anger in my pocket. When I need it, I take it out.” There are times when expressing anger is actually the only thing that will work, because anything less won’t be taken seriously. The trick is to develop that sense of what is appropriate in the moment, and then to have enough consciousness to not be taken over by reactivity as it arises. The seeing of what is appropriate is the quality of the sefirah of Tiferet, while having the consciousness to effect self-restraint is ו vav. The more we can work with these two wisdom-skills, the more conscious our words and actions can be, and the more the structures of our lives can then function to form a Mishkan, a “temple of Presence.” בְּיוֹם־הַחֹ֥דֶשׁ הָרִאשׁ֖וֹן בְּאֶחָ֣ד לַחֹ֑דֶשׁ תָּקִ֕ים אֶת־מִשְׁכַּ֖ן אֹ֥הֶל מוֹעֵֽד׃ On the first day of the first month, you shall raise up the Sanctuary, the Tent of Meeting.
בְּיוֹם־הַחֹ֥דֶשׁ הָרִאשׁ֖וֹן B’yom hakhodesh harishon – On the day of the first month… The word for “on the day,” b’yom, can also be read bAyom, meaning “on today” – in other words, now. The word for “month” is חֹ֥דֶשׁ khodesh, composed of the letters ח khet, ד dalet, and ש shin. Each of these letters is a Path of Presence, representing a particular quality: Khet ח is the quality of being present with others as they are, not trying to change them, nor running away from them. In other words, ח khet is Patience. Dalet ד , which means “door,” is the recognition that all we have and all we are is constantly given to us as a gift, coming to us through the “door” of being. In other words, ד dalet is the recognition of Grace. Shin ש, which is associated with fire, is the quality of intense watchfulness, staying alert to perceive what one is being called to do in the moment, like Moses at the Burning Bush. הָרִאשׁ֖וֹן HaRishon means “the first,” hinting that these are the first steps in building a Mishkan. Seen this way, we could interpretively retranslate the verse thus: In constructing a Sanctuary of Presence from your words and actions, the first steps are to approach whatever is present with Patience, to recognize that this moment comes to you as a form of Grace, and to be intensely Watchful to see what action is needed in the moment… This approach to life is succinctly summed up in the aphorism: הוּא הָיָה אוֹמֵר, אַל תְּהִי בָז לְכָל אָדָם, וְאַל תְּהִי מַפְלִיג לְכָל דָּבָר, שֶׁאֵין לְךָ אָדָם שֶׁאֵין לוֹ שָׁעָה וְאֵין לְךָ דָבָר שֶׁאֵין לוֹ מָקוֹם: He (Ben Azzai) used to say: do not be scornful of any person, and do not be disdainful of anything, for there is no person without their hour, and there is no thing without its place.
Embracing the moment as it appears, rather than as we think it should be, saying “yes and” to the truth of what we are now meeting, is the path to accessing our inner intelligence to respond to the moment with wisdom and love. Even more, it is the path to recognizing that this inner intelligence flows from who we are at the deepest level – the vast ocean of consciousness within which the waves of thought and feeling rise and fall; this is the Path of ו Vav.
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Light as an Eagle – Parshat Pekudei
3/7/2019 0 Comments “When I get the message that it’s time to let go, how do I get myself to listen?” When we are powerless to change something we don’t like, we can understand intellectually that we need to “let go” because the resistance we feel is painful. And yet, it’s hard to “let go” because the impulse to resist has already taken over. What to do? יְהוּדָה בֶן תֵּימָא אוֹמֵר, הֱוֵי עַז כַּנָּמֵר, וְקַל כַּנֶּשֶׁר, וְרָץ כַּצְּבִי, וְגִבּוֹר כָּאֲרִי, לַעֲשׂוֹת רְצוֹן אָבִיךָ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמָיִם. Yehudah ven Tabai says, “Be bold as a leopard, light as an eagle, swift as a deer, and strong as a lion to do the will of your Father in Heaven… – Pirkei Avot 5:20 הֱוֵי עַז כַּנָּמֵר – Be bold as a leopard First, we must realize that we can get out of it; we must reject the belief that we can’t. So first of all, cultivate the awareness that there is no experience that can trap you; you are always bigger than any experience, because you are the field of awareness within which the experience is happening. This takes boldness – holy hutzpah as it’s sometimes called. וְקַל כַּנֶּשֶׁר – light as an eagle Being “bold” or “brazen” (az) doesn’t mean being aggressive, controlling or imposing. Simply be bold in knowing that you cannot be controlled by feelings of resistance. This means, don’t resist your resistance! Simply accept its presence, being the open space within which it arises. This is being kal – “light as an eagle.” וְרָץ כַּצְּבִי – swift as a deer But, to do any of this, you have to be faster than your impulses. Ordinarily, when an impulse is triggered, it happens very quickly and we tend to get taken over very quickly. Our awareness must be ratz – we must be even faster. This takes practice, and we may fail many times. But the key is to articulate your intention to yourself over and over, so that when the moment comes, you will be ready. This is the point of prayer – to articulate to ourselves our highest kavanah – our highest intention – every day, many times per day. But then we must also practice carrying out the intention, and that’s meditation: וְגִבּוֹר כָּאֲרִי – strong as a lion Meditation is a workout for consciousness. Through daily practice, we become gibor – we strengthen our ability to consciously relate with whatever experience arises. Like any strengthening exercise, it can take time to bear fruit; that’s why it’s so important to have faith in the process and practice every day, even if you don’t notice much difference at first. The fruit will ripen! There is a hint of this in the symbolism of the decorative fruits that were placed on the hems of the priestly robes: וַֽיַּעֲשׂוּ֙ עַל־שׁוּלֵ֣י הַמְּעִ֔יל רִמּוֹנֵ֕י תְּכֵ֥לֶת וְאַרְגָּמָ֖ן וְתוֹלַ֣עַת שָׁנִ֑י מָשְׁזָֽר And they made, on the hem of the robe, pomegranates of turquoise, purple, and crimson wool, twisted… – Exodus 39:24 Turquoise, tekheilet, is the color of the tzitzit – the traditional ritual fringes that are worn to serve as a reminder to be constantly and vigilantly conscious – swift as a deer. Purple is the color of royalty, representing our sovereignty over experience – bold as a leopard. Crimson is the color of blood, the strength of the body – strong as a lion. וַיַּעֲשׂ֥וּ פַעֲמֹנֵ֖י זָהָ֣ב טָה֑וֹר And they made bells of pure gold… The bell is a symbol of awareness itself, as the sound of the bell awakens us into a higher alertness. This is light as an eagle – just as the eagle hovers and soars through the open air, so too when we awaken to the full potential of who we are beyond our thoughts and feelings, we find that we are the open air, we are the miracle of consciousness, the effortless dwelling with just how this moment is unfolding, right now… The Carver, The Weaver and The Embroiderer- Parshat Pekudei 3/9/2016 This week’s reading recounts the building of the Sanctuary- “Eleh p’kudei HaMishkan… “These are the remembrances of the Sanctuary…” (Ex. 38:21) Remember- right now- make yourself into a sanctuary! How do you do that? It goes on to say: “Mishkan HaEidut… “The Sanctuary of Witnessing…” The moment you become the witness to what’s happening, seeing without judgment or resistance, your inner space becomes a Sanctuary of Presence. The parsha then goes on to describe the builders and artisans, including one named Oholiav, who is described as a “carver, weaver and embroiderer.” A Carver: To become a Mishkan HaEidut, a Sanctuary of Witnessing, first let your inner space be “carved” by the content of this moment. What do you see? What do you hear? What do you feel? Don’t resist, let your inner space take the form of this moment. A Weaver: Then, let the fullness of everything in this moment be “woven” into a whole within the space of your awareness. Don’t tear the moment apart with judgments and resistance- it’s already one whole tapestry, when you allow it to be. An Embroiderer: Let your own thoughts/words/actions “embroider” the sacred. Give your thoughts a form with a Divine Name or sacred phrase, letting it vibrate repeatedly in your mind. Try this phrase, which means, “The Glory of the Divine Presence Fills”- Kavod Hashem Malei! Kavod Hashem Malei! This phrase is from the following verse which describes how the Sanctuary was so full of Presence, Moses could not enter- “Moses could not enter the Sanctuary… for the Glory of the Divine Presence filled the Sanctuary.” (Ex. 40:35) When your presence completely fills this moment, there's no more room for the separate “me”- there’s just the Presence, not separate from anything… On this Shabbat Pekudei, the Sabbath of Remembrance, may we remember this most fundamental sacred task, clearing the way for joy and celebration in this new month of Adar II, the month of Purim... Hodesh Tov! Good Month to you! Mishei Nikhnas Adar Marbim Simkha! When the month of Adar enters, joy increases!
There’s a story of the Hasidic rebbe, Rabbi Moshe Leib of Sasov, that once he sat alone in the middle of the night contemplating the mystical teachings. Suddenly, he was disturbed by a loud pounding on the window. When he went to see who was making all the commotion, he was shocked by a drunken peasant motioning and waving to the rabbi to open the window.
“Can I help you?” said the rabbi sternly as he pushed the window open. “I need a place to sleep. Can you give me a bed for the night?” Instantly, the rabbi was filled with bitter rage, and a thought entered his mind: “How dare this drunkard have the insolence to interrupt my study in the middle of the night? And what business does he have in this house anyway?” But then, just as quickly, another thought entered his mind: “And for that matter, what business does he have in God’s world? But if God gets along with him, than I shall do the same!” He opened the door at once and prepared him a bed. One of the more challenging aspects of staying spiritually awake is recognizing our inner freedom in the face of the powerful negative emotions known as reactivity. But, while we may not be able transform negativity into generosity as quickly as the Rabbi of Sasov, this alchemical process is open to us all. It is true – forces of ego do arise, and they are powerful, but they arise within and disappear back into the field of awareness that we are on the deepest level; and from that field, a different response is possible. Furthermore, cultivating the inner freedom to respond consciously in the presence of reactivity is not only an option; when it comes to how we treat others, the tradition views it as an imperative: א"ר יוחנן משום ר"ש בן יוחאי גדול אונאת דברים מאונאת ממון שזה נאמר בו (ויקרא כה, יז) ויראת מאלהיך וזה לא נאמר בו ויראת מאלהיך ור' אלעזר אומר זה בגופו וזה בממונו רבי שמואל בר נחמני אמר זה ניתן להישבון וזה לא ניתן להישבון Rabbi Yoḥanan says in the name of Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai: Greater is the transgression of verbal mistreatment than the transgression of monetary exploitation… And Rabbi Elazar said: This (verbal mistreatment) affects one’s body; but that (monetary exploitation) only affects one’s money. Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥmani says: This (monetary exploitation) is given to restitution; but that (verbal mistreatment) is not given to restitution… - Talmud, Bava Metzia 58b There is a common aphorism – “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.” But today we know that abusive verbal treatment can indeed hurt on a physical level; every experience we have, for positive and negative, contains physical correlates in our bodies, affecting the immune system, brain function, and more. Put more simply, stress has a physically destructive effect. And while it is true that one can surely heal from the effects of stress (this is part of the function of meditation), it is solely upon the one who has suffered the stress to engage in the healing process; the one who perpetrated the stressful abuse has no power to heal, no power to “make restitution.” The Talmud is so emphatic about the power of our words, it goes on to compare the act of humiliating another to murder: תני תנא קמיה דרב נחמן בר יצחק כל המלבין פני חבירו ברבים כאילו שופך דמים א"ל שפיר קא אמרת דחזינא ליה דאזיל סומקא ואתי חוורא אמר ליה אביי לרב דימי במערבא במאי זהירי א"ל באחוורי אפי דאמר רבי חנינא הכל יורדין לגיהנם חוץ משלשה The tanna (early rabbi) taught before Rav Naḥman bar Yitzḥak: “Anyone who humiliates another in public, it is as though they were spilling blood.” It was replied to him: “You have spoken well, as we see that the redness departs the face and pallor comes.” It then goes on to emphasize the severity of verbal abuse by way of listing three of the worst sins: הכל ס"ד אלא אימא כל היורדין לגיהנם עולים חוץ משלשה שיורדין ואין עולין ואלו הן הבא על אשת איש והמלבין פני חבירו ברבים והמכנה שם רע לחבירו מכנה היינו מלבין אע"ג דדש ביה בשמיה …Anyone who descends to Gehenna (“hell” or “purgatory”) ultimately ascends, except for three who descend and do not ascend, and these are they: One who is intimate with a married person, one who humiliates another in public, and one who calls another a derogatory name. “One who calls another a derogatory name” – but that is identical to one who humiliates – why are they listed as two separate things?? Because this applies even if the victim grew accustomed to being called a derogatory name, and therefore no longer feels humiliated! For the most part, verbal abuse happens not as the result of conscious decision, but of being temporarily seized by reactivity; a negative feeling arises in relation to a person, and we lash out. This is why it takes a particularly strong vigilance to stay awake when strong feelings arise. This vigilance is represented by the 16th Path of Presence, the letter Vav ו, which means “and” – hinting that when inner reactivity is triggered, remember to say, “Yes AND.” Welcome whatever is present – the situation, the person before you, as well whatever feelings have arisen. In this way, you can consciously relax your resistance to your experience. But more importantly, in the affirmation of whatever is present, you can come to recognize yourself as the transcendent awareness within which all experience happens. This is because, at the deepest level, we are openness; we need only remember and practice accessing it. How do we do that? כִּ֣י תִשָּׂ֞א אֶת־רֹ֥אשׁ בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֘ל לִפְקֻדֵיהֶם֒ וְנָ֨תְנ֜וּ אִ֣ישׁ כֹּ֧פֶר נַפְשׁ֛וֹ לַיהוָ֖ה בִּפְקֹ֣ד אֹתָ֑ם וְלֹא־יִהְיֶ֥ה בָהֶ֛ם נֶ֖גֶף בִּפְקֹ֥ד אֹתָֽם׃ …זֶ֣ה יִתְּנ֗וּ כָּל־הָעֹבֵר֙ עַל־הַפְּקֻדִ֔ים מַחֲצִ֥ית הַשֶּׁ֖קֶל When you take a census of the Children of Israel according to their numbers, each shall give an atonement for their soul to the Divine, when counting them, so that there will not be a plague among them when counting them. This they shall give – everyone who passes through the census – a half shekel…
This passage describes the instructions Moses received to take a census of the Israelites; when each person is counted, they are to give a half-shekel, so that they don’t suffer a plague. But why would there be a plague from taking a census? There is a hint in the word for “plague” – נֶגֶף negef, which is נ nun – ג gimel – ף pei. Nun נ begins the word noflim, which means “fallen ones,” and signifies impermanence, falling apart, destruction. Gimel ג begins gadol which means “great,” signifying fullness, completeness, wholeness. Pei פ literally means mouth, signifying speech. Thus, on a deeper level, we can understand “plague,” נֶגֶף – negef, to mean “speaking from the destruction of one’s wholeness” – in other words, reactivity. In the context of consciousness, reactivity is the primary plague. It is the unconscious flaring of negativity that arises from resistance to our experience. The remedy for this resistance is hidden in the contribution of the “half shekel” which everyone must give: The words for “half shekel” are מַחֲצִית הַשֶּׁקֶל makhazit hashekel. But if we replace the ק koof with the similar letter, כ kaf, you get שֶׂכֶל – sekhel, which means “mind,” “intelligence” or “awareness.” So, if we read it as “half awareness” rather than “half-shekel,” we can understand that to avoid getting caught by negef, by reactivity, keep a portion of your awareness – a makhazit hasekhel – rooted in your body, constantly staying present and “watching” your emotions. Through this intensification of Presence, you can remain free from the grip of reactivity when you find yourself in triggering experiences, and speak consciously and intentionally, rather than projecting the “plague” onto others. וְלֹא־יִהְיֶ֥ה בָהֶ֛ם נֶ֖גֶף בִּפְקֹ֥ד אֹתָֽם – so that there will not be a plague among them when counting them… In this way, we can insure that every person we encounter truly “counts!”
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The Wayfarer – Parshat Ki Tisa
3/9/2020 0 Comments The Maggid of Mezritch taught: “Today the holy spirit comes upon us more easily than when the Temple was standing. Once there was a king of a country that was conquered by a foreign power, and the king was driven into exile. In the course of his wanderings, he came upon the home of some poor people who recognized him as king. They took him in, offered him modest food and shelter, and treated him as honored royalty the best they could. The king deeply appreciated their hospitality and chatted intimately with his hosts, as he had once done in his court with those closest to him. “Now that the Holy One is in exile from His Holy Temple, He does the same with us.” The secret of realizing the Presence of the Divine is a spirit of hospitality from the heart. Welcome this moment as it is, in all its fullness, in its beauty and ugliness, in its orderliness and chaos, and you welcome the Divine Essence that is the Presence of all things, that is the Presence within you, reading these words right now. That Presence is a gift – you cannot manufacture It, you cannot generate It, but you can do your part to open to It, to reveal Its Reality through you. There is a hint in the parshah: זֶ֣ה יִתְּנ֗וּ כָּל־הָעֹבֵר֙ עַל־הַפְּקֻדִ֔ים מַחֲצִ֥ית הַשֶּׁ֖קֶל... תְּרוּמָ֖ה לַֽיהוָֽה This shall be given by all who pass through the counting – a half shekel, an offering to the Divine… (Exodus 30:13) The “half” we bring in the building of the sanctuary of this moment is ourselves; we, meaning our bodies, our feelings, our thoughts, are “half” – the other half is the Divine, the Reality behind all forms. Make yourself hospitable to That Reality, and the Divine appears, barukh Hashem. How do we do it? וַיַּעֲבֹ֨ר יְהוָ֥ה עַל־פָּנָיו֮ וַיִּקְרָא֒ יְהוָ֣ה יְהוָ֔ה אֵ֥ל רַח֖וּם וְחַנּ֑וּן אֶ֥רֶךְ אַפַּ֖יִם וְרַב־חֶ֥סֶד וֶאֱמֶֽת The Divine passed before his face and called out, “Being! Being! Compassionate and Gracious God, slow to anger, and abundant in Lovingkindness and Truth!” (Exodus 34:6) These Divine qualities that God reveals to Moses are a practical instruction: Hashem! Hashem! – Being! Being! The Divine Name that means “Being” is said twice, indicating the realization that whatever is before you is a form of the Divine, and your own consciousness is also the Divine; through the meeting, The Divine becomes One with Itself. This is the fundamental knowledge that brings the felt connection with the Divine Presence. El Rakhum V’Hanun – Compassionate and Gracious God… that is, make the qualities of compassion and grace “God” over all your other qualities. You may not feel like it, but you can bring forth these qualities if you decide that they are “God” to you. Erekh apayim v’ravhesed ve’emet – Slow to Anger, and Abundant in Lovingkindness and Truth… You have the ability to not get caught by your anger and to act from the impulse of love. It says Emet –Truth – because it is not about “faking” it; it is about finding these qualities within and bringing them forth. Then, the prophesy of Purim will be fulfilled: לַיְּהוּדִים הָיְתָה אוֹרָה וְשִׂמְחָה וְשָׂשׁוֹן וִיקָר For the Jews there was Light, Joy, Gladness and Essence… (Ester 8:16) כֵּן תִּהְיֶה לָנוּ – So may it be for us! Offering – Parshat Ki Tisa 2/20/2019 0 Comments My father-in-law once commented that when he attended minyan daily to say kaddish for his father, he would finish putting on his tefillin by Aleinu. (The tefillin are ritual objects worn on the body, and the Aleinu is one of the very last prayers. He was joking that it took him the time of the entire service to get his tefillin on, which are supposed to be put on before you begin the service.) It’s true that for many Jews who attend synagogue, the Aleinu is the most familiar prayer, since all the latecomers are present by the time it happens. And it’s appropriate, since Aleinu is the great equalizer: Aleinu leshabeiakh Ladon Hakol – It is upon us to praise the Master of All. It doesn’t matter if you’re early or late, if you put on your tefillin quickly or slowly – in the face of the Divine, in the face of the Mystery of Existence, we are all equal. As the Divine name proclaims, Reality unfolds however it unfolds: Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh – I will be What I Will Be We all equally have this supreme task: to harmonize ourselves with What Is: Va’anakhnu korim umishtakhavim umodim lifnei… HaKadosh Barkhu Hu – We kneel and prostrate and surrender before the Holy Blessed One… A disciple asked Rabbi Yekhiel Mikhal, the Maggid of Zlotchov: “Why is it that humility is the most important virtue, yet the Torah doesn’t command us to be humble? It only says that Moses was the most humble of men, but it doesn’t ever say that humility is a mitzvah.” “That’s because,” replied the master, “if humility were a mitzvah, we wouldn’t be able to accomplish it; we would end up having pride in our humility!” Once there was a rabbi who was davening with great intensity toward the end of Yom Kippur, when he suddenly became overwhelmed with the realization of his own insignificance. Before he knew what he was doing, he spontaneously cried out, “Ribono Shel Olam! Master of the universe! I am nothing! I am nothing!” When the hazzan – the cantor – saw him do this, he too became inspired, and suddenly realized the same thing. “Ribono Shel Olam! I am nothing! I am nothing!” cried the hazzan. Suddenly, Shmully the shoemaker also became deeply moved and cried out as well: “Ribono Shel Olam! I am nothing! I am nothing!” When the hazzan saw Shmully’s enthusiasm, he turned to the rabbi with incredulity: “Look who thinks he’s nothing!” The essential quality of authentic spirituality involves meeting Reality as it appears – which is to say, meeting the Divine in the fulness of the present. The opposite of this is ego, which instead is concerned with one’s own identity, with the “me.” To accomplish the task of transcending ego and meeting the Divine, religion gives us all kinds of traditions and devices, but the irony is that the ego can co-opt all of that for its own self-bolstering purpose. Thus, according to the maggid, humility must remain free from being a mitzvah; it is a level higher than any particular religious practice. כִּ֣י תִשָּׂ֞א אֶת־רֹ֥אשׁ בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵל֘ לִפְקֻֽדֵיהֶם֒ וְנָ֨תְנ֜וּ אִ֣ישׁ כֹּ֧פֶר נַפְשׁ֛וֹ לַֽיהֹוָ֖ה בִּפְקֹ֣ד אֹתָ֑ם וְלֹא־יִֽהְיֶ֥ה בָהֶ֛ם נֶ֖גֶף בִּפְקֹ֥ד אֹתָֽם When you take a census of the children of Israel according to their numbers, let each one give to the Divine an atonement for their souls when they are counted; then there will be no plague among them when they are counted. זֶ֣ה יִתְּנ֗וּ כָּל־הָֽעֹבֵר֙ עַל־הַפְּקֻדִ֔ים מַֽחֲצִ֥ית הַשֶּׁ֖קֶל בְּשֶׁ֣קֶל הַקֹּ֑דֶשׁ עֶשְׂרִ֤ים גֵּרָה֙ הַשֶּׁ֔קֶל מַֽחֲצִ֣ית הַשֶּׁ֔קֶל תְּרוּמָ֖ה לַֽיהֹוָֽה This they shall give… a half a shekel … an offering to the Divine. The ego wants to “count” – there is a self-image to maintain; this is the negef, the root plague of being human. The ego is insatiable, never satisfied for long, because it is by nature incomplete; it is only a “half shekel.” The only way to become complete and avert the “plague” is to make it תְּרוּמָ֖ה לַֽיהֹוָֽה – an “offering” to the Divine. How to do that? Simply notice the impulse to “be” something – to be recognized, to be validated, to be seen in a certain way. Let that impulse be there, but don’t buy into it; don’t give the ego any reality. Recognize that it is just a bundle of thoughts and feelings. Offer it up: “Oh Hashem, I am only here to serve your purpose; only in aligning with You can there be wholeness.” In that letting go of the incomplete self into the One, there can arise a completeness that is not any particular thing, that is not dependent on anything, but it emerges and blossoms when there is openness to the truth of this moment. “Ribono Shel Olam! I am nothing! The Plague of Separation – Parshat Ki Tisa 2/27/2018 0 Comments Exodus 30:11-13 This week's Torah reading begins with instructions to Moses on how to take a census of the Israelites. Everyone who is counted has to give a half shekel as an "atonement" to prevent a plague: יא וַיְדַבֵּ֥ר יְהֹוָ֖ה אֶל־משֶׁ֥ה לֵּאמֹֽר 11 The Divine spoke to Moses, saying: יב כִּ֣י תִשָּׂ֞א אֶת־רֹ֥אשׁ בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵל֘ לִפְקֻֽדֵיהֶם֒ וְנָ֨תְנ֜וּ אִ֣ישׁ כֹּ֧פֶר נַפְשׁ֛וֹ לַֽיהֹוָ֖ה בִּפְקֹ֣ד אֹתָ֑ם וְלֹא־יִֽהְיֶ֥ה בָהֶ֛ם נֶ֖גֶף בִּפְקֹ֥ד אֹתָֽם: 12 "When you take the sum of the children of Israel according to their numbers, let each one give to the Divine an atonement for their souls when they are counted; then there will be no plague among them when they are counted. יג זֶ֣ה יִתְּנ֗וּ כָּל־הָֽעֹבֵר֙ עַל־הַפְּקֻדִ֔ים מַֽחֲצִ֥ית הַשֶּׁ֖קֶל בְּשֶׁ֣קֶל הַקֹּ֑דֶשׁ עֶשְׂרִ֤ים גֵּרָה֙ הַשֶּׁ֔קֶל מַֽחֲצִ֣ית הַשֶּׁ֔קֶל תְּרוּמָ֖ה לַֽיהֹוָֽה: 13 This they shall give, everyone who goes through the counting: half a shekel according to the holy shekel. Twenty gerahs equal one shekel; half of [such] a shekel shall be an offering to the Divine. But why would there be a plague for being counted in a census? To be "counted" means to be discerned as a separate entity. This is the "plague" of the ego – the felt sense of being something separate, driving your life through a separate universe. Ordinarily, this is how we think of ourselves; there's "me in here" and "that out there." This is the basic duality of the egoic perspective. But consider: whatever you perceive to be "out there" is always perceived within your consciousness. So when you think of yourself as being within your body, looking out at something separate, you've actually split yourself in half. You've identified with the half that's in your body, and exiled the part of your own awareness within which "out there" is perceived. So to heal this rift and escape the "plague" of separateness, the two halves have to rejoin one another. That's the makhatzit hashekel – the half shekel. Give your awareness fully to whatever you perceive in the present moment, and the self-contracting activity of ego can relax and you merge back into Oneness. This is meditation, also called Presence. But, sometimes there are powerful emotions that can become blocked. In that case, you may not be able to relax into Oneness through meditation alone. That's where prayer comes in. Through prayer, you invite your emotions to be fully felt by putting them into words or chants or even just sounds, crying out from the heart. In this way, previously exiled feelings can be released and an inner alchemy can take place, transforming negativity into love... love, reb brian yosef Is Your Motivation Disrupting Your Meditation? Parshat Ki Tisa 3/17/2017 “Ki tisa et rosh b’nei Yisrael lifkudeihem..." "When you take a census of the children of Israel to count them- every person should give an atonement for their souls to the Divine when you count them- so that there won’t be a plague among them when they’re counted.” This is a super strange passage. First God is telling Moses to take a census of the Israelites- not so strange- Moses is leading thousands of Israelites through the desert so it makes sense that he would want to keep track of them all. But then it says something strange- that every Israelite should give a kofer- an atonement or a ransom. This word kofer is the same as in Yom Kippur- the Day of Atonement. In the next line it explains that the kofer they give should be a half shekel, which is a kind of coin, and they should give this coin to prevent a plague from breaking out. But why do they have to atone for being counted, as if being counted is some kind of sin that would bring on a plague? But if we look more deeply at the words, the idiom for “When you take a census” is “Ki tisa et rosh”- which literally means, “When you lift up the head.” What is lifting up the head? It is elevating consciousness- meaning, the disentanglement or dis-identification of consciousness with thoughts, feelings, personality- all that stuff that normally makes up the sense of “me” or ego. That process of ki tisa- of transcending the ego and experiencing the freedom and bliss of pure consciousness is, of course, the aim of meditation. And normally, when we decide to meditate, we’re motivated by wanting to experience something like that- maybe we want less stress, maybe we want to stop feeling the burden of our problems, or whatever. And these are all totally valid motivations, but the problem is, they’re all rooted in the experience of “me” wanting to get “something.” But since the thing you’re trying to get is to let go of the “me,” it doesn’t work- it turns your meditation into a kind of plague, because you’re chasing after something you can never get with that approach. The only way you can get it, is by changing your approach- changing your motivation- don’t do it from that drive to get something. Instead, do it as an act of giving- an act of love for its own sake. And that’s the donation of the half shekel. It’s only a half shekel because there’s of course the acknowledgment that meditation is good for you- that’s the other half of the coin so to speak- but what’s good for you is also good for others. You have to put on your own oxygen mask before helping your children, otherwise you might not be able to help your children. So the donation of the half shekel means that you’re dedicating your spiritual work that you do on yourself toward the service of others. So this Shabbat Ki Tisa- the Sabbath of Elevation, is a good time to rededicate yourself to your meditation practice, through the intention of love. Good Shabbos! love, brian yosef The Coconut Oil- Parshat Ki Tisa 2/25/2016 2 Comments Here in Costa Rica, it’s hot. How hot is it? Here’s a good way to understand it: When I was back in Berkeley last week, I was staying with some friends in their warm and cozy home. One morning, while the heat was on in the house due to the cold outside, I took out my jar of coconut oil to make my “bullet-proof” coffee (ask me about this if you don’t know what it is). I was surprised to find that the coconut oil was completely hard and white, even though the house was so warm. That’s because in Costa Rica, the coconut oil is always clear liquid, even at night when the air seems cool in relation to how hot it was during the day. That’s hot. And, because it’s so dang hot, it’s pretty common to take not one, but two showers per day. Before Costa Rica, I would take a shower to go out and do something, or, I would take a shower when I returned home from somewhere. But in Costa Rica, everything is hot, everything makes you sticky and filthy, so you’ve got to shower before going out and shower when you come in. It reminds me of the mitzvah to repeatedly cleanse your inner space, chanting the affirmation of the Unity of Being with the Sh’ma, which is to be said- “… when you sit in your house, when you walk on the way, when you lie down and when you rise up…” In other words, there’s a rhythm of inwardness and outwardness, of activity and rest, and staying present applies to all those times. This week’s reading, Ki Tisa, has it’s own version of the “two shower” practice: The parshah describes the construction the Kiyor- a special basin of water for the kohanim (priests) to wash themselves with. Whenever they entered the Sanctuary or burned offerings on the altar outside the Sanctuary, they would use the kiyor: “V’asita kiyor n’khoshet bein ohel mo’ed uvein hamizbe’akh v’natanta shama mayim- “You shall make a basin of copper between the Tent of Meeting and the (outer) altar, and you shall put water there.” The late Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M Shneerson z’l, taught that the outer altar represents the sanctification of ordinary life. The inner Sanctuary represents your avodah- spiritual practice- that you do separate from mundane life. The fact that the kiyor- the water basin- was between the inner and the outer indicates that you need to inwardly “cleanse” your intentions before doing either one. Without the right intention, both outer and inner life will be expressions of ego, of the energy of self-enhancement rather than self-transcendence. It makes no difference if you’re praying, earning a living, enjoying some food, helping someone out, whatever. Without right intention, anything you do- holy or mundane- will have an ensnaring quality. But with right intention, both inner and outer life become the arena of transformation, as the rhythmic movement between the two gently wears away at the substance of ego. What is right intention? It’s being in service of the moment. Whether it’s inner or outer life, being in service of the moment means letting the movement around you and the movement within you be one thing. It means not opposing yourself to what is, but being what is. It means being fully yourself, as you are, here in this moment, as this moment is, without resistance. What’s the key to right intention? It’s knowing that your existence right now is fully an expression of Truth, of Reality, of God- just as it is. Can you accept that ultimate Truth right now? In the beginning of the reading from which the parsha gets its name, the Israelites are told they must all donate a half-shekel when they’re counted in the census, in order to prevent a plague- “Ki tisa et rosh b’nai Yisrael… “When you take a census of the children of Israel… they shall give a half-shekel for atonement, so there won’t be a plague…” Being “counted” means being part of community life, part of the chaotic push and pull of multiple agendas and intentions. This life becomes a “plague” if you forget your essential unity with all that is, if you forget that you’re ultimately here to serve the One, and that your very existence is already a service of the One. Why a half-shekel? Because your existence is half the equation- the piece that everyone brings equally. The other half is your unique task, the task that only you can do. But it begins with the “half-shekel”- it begins with knowing your own existence as non-separate from this moment. Then, in this open embrace of Being, there can be balance between the inner and the outer. No need to run after external experiences, and no need to close yourself off to find internal holiness- though sometimes the moment requires one and sometimes the other. Night and day, Hasidim of all ages and types knocked on the door of Reb Pinkhas of Korets. Some wanted spiritual guidance, others wanted wisdom, others sought special blessings.This disturbed Reb Pinkhas from his inward devotions so much, that he prayed he should become disliked by people. “That would solve everything!” he thought. “If people hated me, they would leave me alone to my meditations and I’d be able to enjoy the Divine Oneness in peace.” His prayer was answered- From that day onward, he lived a secluded life in blissful aloneness, and was never seen in the company of others, except at synagogue. As the festival of Sukkot drew near, he had to build his sukkah all by himself, for nobody would help him (which was fine by him). On the first night of the holiday, the rabbi sat in his sukkah all by himself (which was fine by him), and he began chanting the invocation to Avraham, inviting the spirit of the ancient patriarch into his sukkah. Reb Pinkhas looked up in wonder- the spirit of Avraham had appeared, and was standing just outside! At first, Reb Pinkhas fell into an ecstatic wonder at the apparition before him, but soon became anxious because the spirit wouldn’t enter the sukkah, despite Reb Pinkhas’ invitational invocations. “Master, why do you not enter my sukkah?” cried Reb Pinkhas. Avraham Avinu replied, “It is not my custom to enter a place where there are no guests.” Avraham then disappeared. Sad and regretful, Reb Pinhkas made Kiddush by himself, then took the special water vessel to cleanse his hands before the blessing over bread. As he washed his hands, he prayed- “Ribono Shel Olam, cleanse me from my reclusiveness- may I accept the holiness of being with people as well as being alone. Please, Ribono Shel Olam, take away the hatred people have for me.” From that time onward, Reb Pinkhas was restored to his rebbe-hood and Hasidim began visiting him once again. On this Shabbat Ki Tisa, the Sabbath of Raising Up, may we raise up the Reality that includes others and includes ourselves, for there’s only One Reality, and we're all part of it. Let’s remember the supreme middah of hospitality, honoring whomever we’re with, allowing this moment to be a welcoming home for all we encounter... and may our hearts and minds flow with this moment... like the liquid coconut oil in Costa Rica! Good Shabblisss!! The Plumber- Parshat Ki Tisa 3/6/2015 3 Comments I have a friend who told me an amazing story about how she used to earn a living. She is a particularly handy person, with a knack for things like plumbing, light carpentry, and so on. Several years ago, she discovered that most people (myself included) don’t have such a knack and often need a handy person, so she started to take little fix-it jobs to earn extra money. For a while the jobs were easy for her. One day, she was asked to do a job that baffled her. What did she do? Did she say, “Sorry, I can’t do that” and go on to an easier job? No. She pretended she knew how to do the job, went home and watched You Tube videos on how to fix that particular thing, then went and fixed it. That was just the beginning. Eventually, she was learning and growing by taking on harder and harder jobs. Her work became her school. There is an analogue here to spirituality. Just as the basic point of work is to receive physical sustenance in the form of money, so the basic point of spirituality is to receive spiritual sustenance- the Inner Light of bliss and oneness that manifests as wisdom, joy, love and many other wonderful qualities. The most direct way to connect with your spiritual sustenance is to remove outer distractions and do your avodah- spiritual work such as meditation, chanting, and so on. If you really just want that spiritual sustenance, you should involve yourself with as few other things as possible. Do what you need to do to eat and have basic necessities, then devote yourself to spiritual practice. That would be analogous to my friend taking the easy handy jobs she already knew how to do. But if your intention is not merely to get the sustenance, rather to learn and grow in your ability to stay connected to the Source of that sustenance even in the midst of life, then you can bring your spiritual Light into the chaos and complexity of life. Then, distractions are really not distractions anymore. They are what you need to train. They are your helpers on the path of becoming spiritually masterful. Many folks tend toward one side or the other. Some get so caught up in the drama of life that it is impossible remain present and bring forth the Inner Light when things get stressful. Others tend toward the other direction, seeing the drama of life as a distraction and withdrawing into solitude. And, there are times in life when it’s good to lean toward one side or the other. The truth, however, is that these two sides are not really separate or opposed to each other. The Inner Light that flowers within wants to express Itself; it wants to connect with life and bring its power of healing and wisdom. But to balance the rhythm between the Eternal and the temporal, the Silent and the noisy, requires attentiveness and intention. It takes a special effort to create the boundaries you need to have the space in the day for spiritual avodah. And, no matter how complete your realization of the One is in solitude, life will generate challenges for you when you get back in its game. Receiving those challenges as your spiritual training, and not merely distractions, takes a tremendous effort; but it is ultimately an effortless effort. This week’s reading, Ki Tisa, contains instructions for constructing a special basin of water that the kohanim (priests) were to wash their hands and feet with whenever they entered the sanctuary space or brought offerings onto the altar that was outside the sanctuary: “v’asita kiyor n’khoshet- you shall make a basin of copper…bein ohel mo’ed uvein hamizbe’akh- between the Tent of Meeting and the (outer) altar…v’natanta shama mayim- and you shall put water there.” The late Lubavitcher rebbe Rabbi Menachem M Shneerson z’l taught that the outer altar represents the sanctification of ordinary life activities. The inner sanctuary represents one’s spiritual practice and connection with Eternal, separate from mundane life. The fact that the kiyor- the basin- was between the two indicates that you need to inwardly “cleanse” your intentions before entering into your avodah, on one hand, and before entering into ordinary life activities as well. Having the right intention is the key to unifying the life of Being with the life of Doing. Having right intention with your avodah means to approach it in the spirit of service. You meditate and davven not just to “get” something from it but also to serve as a conduit- to bring the Spirit into form. Similarly, you don’t enter into mundane life only to derive material benefit from it, but also to receive its lessons, to be a student and become more and more adept at bringing the Spirit into expression. What is the key to right intention? It’s knowing you are here to serve. We are all constantly receiving, taking so much in so many different ways, but it must be for the sake of giving. That’s why, in the beginning of the reading, the Israelites are told they all must donate a half shekel when they are counted for the census, in order to prevent a plague- “Ki tisa et rosh b’nai Yisrael- when you take a census of the children of Israel… v’natnu ish kofer- they shall give for atonement… v’lo yiyeh vahem negef- so there won’t be a plague…makhazit hashekel- a half shekel…” Being “counted” means being part of community life, part of the chaotic push and pull of multiple agendas and intentions. This life becomes a “plague” if you get stuck in it, if you forget right intention, if you forget that you are ultimately here to serve the One. How do you serve the One? By being connected to the One and bringing Its Light and Bliss and Love into the mundane, into the chaos. And how do you do that? By taking time to separate from the mundane and doing your daily spiritual practice… not to mention the one full day of the week that is all spiritual practice- Shabbat. May this Shabbat be a full immersion into the Eternal and may our world drink of Her healing power- Good Shabbiiiisssss!!!!
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!
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. |
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