וְשַׁבֵּ֧חַ אֲנִ֛י אֶת־הַמֵּתִ֖ים שֶׁכְּבָ֣ר מֵ֑תוּ מִן־הַ֣חַיִּ֔ים אֲשֶׁ֛ר הֵ֥מָּה חַיִּ֖ים עֲדֶֽנָה׃ וְטוֹב֙ מִשְּׁנֵיהֶ֔ם אֵ֥ת אֲשֶׁר־עֲדֶ֖ן לֹ֣א הָיָ֑ה אֲשֶׁ֤ר לֹֽא־רָאָה֙ אֶת־הַמַּעֲשֶׂ֣ה הָרָ֔ע אֲשֶׁ֥ר נַעֲשָׂ֖ה תַּ֥חַת הַשָּֽׁמֶשׁ׃
I praised those who have already died as better than those who are still alive; and better than either of them are those who have not yet lived and have never seen the evil doings that are done under the sun…
…וְעַל כָּרְחֲךָ אַתָּה נוֹלָד, וְעַל כָּרְחֲךָ אַתָּה חַי, וְעַל כָּרְחֲךָ אַתָּה מֵת... For against your will you were born, and against your will you will die…
These brutal verses from Tanakh and Mishna highlight a subtle distinction between different levels of desire. On one hand, the suffering of life is such that we shouldn’t want to live; our natural hatred of the life’s bitterness gives rise to the desire for death, the impulse to reject our own existence. And yet, these verses are heard against the backdrop of a more fundamental impulse – the drive to be and to become that, (God willing) trumps all adversity. We may cry out again and again that we can’t go on, and yet, (God willing) we can and do go on. This points to a level of desire that is deeper than our experience of adversity, deeper than the ups and downs that happen in time. בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה' אֱלהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעולָם. עוטֵר יִשרָאֵל בְּתִפְאָרָה Blessed are You, Oneness of Being, our inner Divinity, Eternal Sovereign, Who crowns Israel with splendor… There is a splendor, a radiance, a transcendent spirit that infuses our lives, that in fact is our very life force. עוטֵר יִשרָאֵל בְּתִפְאָרָה – Oter Yisrael b’Tifarah – crowns Israel with splendor… “Splendor” is called Tiferet, the central sefirah (Divine emanation) on the Tree of Life. It is the radiant Presence of awareness itself, our innermost life-energy. But this Presence derives from Keter, the “crown,” because it transcends our own natural will; it comes to us as from “above,” because it is stronger than all adversity. It is stronger because, on the deepest level, it knows there is nothing to lose; it incarnates within and as every being and eventually returns to Itself. Why? Why is coming into existence worth the immense suffering of life? : כָּל מַה שֶּׁבָּרָא הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא בְּעוֹלָמוֹ, לֹא בְרָאוֹ אֶלָּא לִכְבוֹדוֹ, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר כֹּל הַנִּקְרָא בִשְׁמִי וְלִכְבוֹדִי בְּרָאתִיו יְצַרְתִּיו אַף עֲשִׂיתִיו All that the Holy Blessed One creates in Its world, It creates only for Its Presence, as it says: “All who are called in My Name, for My Presence I created, I formed, I made…”
Presence Itself, Existence Itself, is Its own good, Its reason for being: אֶלָּא לִכְבוֹדוֹ – elah likh’vodi – only for Its Presence… Reality “wishes” to know Itself; Existence “desires” to know that It Exists. This can only happen through us, through our conscious receiving of this sacred mission: to make ourselves into sanctuaries for the Divine Presence. To receive this mission is to receive Torah. The receiving of Torah must be done consciously again and again so that the primary impulse of Being becomes our own conscious intention; we must recognize that, on the deepest level, to simply exist actually means that we are “chosen” for this sacred task. This is the deepest message of Sinai: that when we transcend the Mitzrayim of the various human drives and forces that propel human life, when we “ascend the mountain” of the Eternal Present, we come face to face with the Divine impulse that needs us for Its fulfillment: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם אֲשֶׁר בָּֽחַר בָּֽנוּ מִכָּל הָעַמִּים וְנָֽתַן לָֽנוּ אֶת תּוֹרָתוֹ: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה נוֹתֵן הַתּוֹרָה Blessed are You, Oneness of Being, our inner Divinity, Eternal Sovereign, Who chooses us among the peoples and gives to us the Teaching. Blessed are You, Oneness of Being, Giver of Torah… Hag Samayakh, Good Yom Tov!
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Burning Down the House – Parshat Naso, Shavuot
6/11/2019 0 Comments If you look back in time through your family photos, you will eventually find pictures of people not smiling. It’s an interesting thing – why didn’t people smile back then when posing for pictures? And why and when did people start smiling as we do today? It’s funny – a person could be grumpy, then someone comes along to take a photo and they instantly manifest an expression of deep happiness. In a sense, the old paradigm is more honest; if we want to take a snapshot of life, the practice of always smiling probably gives a false impression, that life is constantly fun and joyful, when we know that is not. Today this trend gets extended with social media – Facebook posts in which people look like all is wonderful and everyone is having a great time are very common. Often, I’ve heard people say, “How are you?” and then, before an answer comes, “I know you are great because I see your posts on Facebook!” Happiness is a wonderful thing, but what about honesty? Psalm 15 says: מִֽי־יִ֝שְׁכֹּ֗ן בְּהַ֣ר קָדְשֶֽׁךָ – Who can dwell on Your holy mountain? דֹבֵ֥ר אֱ֝מֶ֗ת בִּלְבָבֽוֹ – One who speaks Truth from their heart… Truth is a basic middah, a basic spiritual quality, necessary for transcending the mundane and realizing the sacred, for “dwelling” on the “holy mountain.” And yet, in Pirkei Avot, Shamai says: וֶהֱוֵי מְקַבֵּל אֶת כָּל הָאָדָם בְּסֵבֶר פָּנִים יָפוֹת – Receive every person with a cheerful face. And later in the text, Rabbi Yishmael takes it even further: וֶהֱוֵי מְקַבֵּל אֶת כָּל הָאָדָם בְּשִׂמְחָה – Receive every person with joy! So, which is it? Is it best to be honest about our feelings, or should we “put on a happy face?” A disciple once asked the Hassidic master, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev, which is the true path – the path of sorrow or the path of joy? He answered that there are two kinds of sorrow, and two kinds of joy. The wrong kind of sorrow is when you become negative, think of yourself as a victim and complain about your life. The right kind of sorrow is when you simply feel your suffering and the suffering of others in an honest way, without embellishment, without getting caught by the negativity. The wrong kind of joy is when you only become happy about things you like, when things are going your way, when you get what you want. The right kind of joy, on the other hand, is like when a person’s house burns down, and as they rebuild what was destroyed, they rejoice over each and every brick. It’s a remarkable image – the right kind of joy is like when your house burns down. The genius of this teaching is that the right kind of joy and the right kind of sorrow are really the same thing; they are merged in the truth of our experience, that everything we love and enjoy will eventually burn down. If our happiness is based on gratification alone, then we are slaves to our experience. But there is a deeper joy that arises from the depths of who we are, beneath our temporary experience, beneath the “house” of our thoughts and feelings. That is the simple joy of being, the joy of existence, which becomes available when we let the “house” of ego “burn down” and fully open to the truth of our experience without resistance – even, paradoxically, the experience of pain and suffering. And in that openness, we begin this moment anew, rejoicing over every “brick” – over every action offered in service of building a home for the Divine during this brief life we are given. This deep openness of consciousness to whatever arises is very simple, but it’s not easy, because the complexities of life can easily distract. That’s why we have spiritual teachings and practices – to develop our ability to remain awake and free in the midst of life. דַּבֵּר֙ אֶל־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל וְאָמַרְתָּ֖ אֲלֵהֶ֑ם אִ֣ישׁ אֽוֹ־אִשָּׁ֗ה כִּ֤י יַפְלִא֙ לִנְדֹּר֙ נֶ֣דֶר נָזִ֔יר לְהַזִּ֖יר לַֽיהוָֽה׃ …מִיַּ֤יִן וְשֵׁכָר֙ יַזִּ֔יר Speak to the Israelites and say to them: If anyone, man or woman, explicitly swears the vow of the Nazir, to abstain for the sake of the Divine, he shall abstain from wine and intoxicants… The Nazir mentioned in the parshah is someone who has become disconnected from the Divine and wishes to come back. How do they do it? They take a period of abstinence from alcohol and haircuts! Why? Alcohol is a way of altering our inner state, while grooming our hair is a way of altering our outer state. In other words, they are examples of manipulating our experience toward our liking. By abstaining from both, one can get in touch with that deeper level of awareness that simply receives the moment as it is, that “lets the house burn down,” so to speak. This level of awareness experientially knows the Oneness of the Divine as the basic condition of Reality, prior to the impulse to do something about it. Through this practice, the Nazir could find their way back to the Divine, back to their deepest nature, and then return to ordinary life from this higher place. Last week was the festival of Shavuot, during which the biblical Book of Ruth is traditionally read. This book begins with Naomi’s house “burning down” as great tragedy befalls her: first, her husband dies, and then both of her sons die. She tells her daughters-in-law to go back to their families, but her daughter-in-law Ruth swears allegiance to Naomi, and they return to Naomi’s hometown of Bethlehem, penniless. Someone says, “Could this be Naomi?” but Naomi tells her that is no longer her name: וַתֹּ֣אמֶר אֲלֵיהֶ֔ן אַל־תִּקְרֶ֥אנָה לִ֖י נָעֳמִ֑י קְרֶ֤אןָ לִי֙ מָרָ֔א כִּי־הֵמַ֥ר שַׁדַּ֛י לִ֖י מְאֹֽד׃ “Do not call me Naomi (pleasantness),” she replied. “Call me Mara (bitterness), for Shaddai has made my lot very bitter.” After that, their luck begins to change. Ruth serendipitously meets the wealthy Boaz, a relative of Naomi, ends up marrying him, and they have a son who ends up being an ancestor of King David, who is believed to be the ancestor of the future Moshiakh, the salvation of all humanity. The hint is: their salvation begins to sprout when Naomi expresses her bitterness: “Call me Mara (bitterness), for Shaddai has made my lot very bitter.” She is not complaining about her lot, she is receiving it from the hands of the Divine. She is speaking Truth from the heart – her experience isn’t pleasant, it is bitter – but from that honesty, her fortune begins to change and will lead ultimately to world salvation. In other words, it is from the openness to the bitter that a deeper, transcendent joy can arise. And so, for us – may we open to the truth of our experience with simplicity and without resistance, receiving everything from the hands of the Divine, and may we merit to feel the deeper joy that arises from that openness. May we share that joy with everyone we encounter: וֶהֱוֵי מְקַבֵּל אֶת כָּל הָאָדָם בְּשִׂמְחָה – Receive every person with joy – and may true peace and salvation sprout for this world, speedily in our day!
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The message of Presence is: Don’t think so much. Think less, perceive more.
And yet, in more common circles of wisdom, we hear the message that we should think more, that mistakes can be avoided if we thoroughly think things through. So, which is it? שְׂא֗וּ אֶת־רֹאשׁ֙ כָּל־עֲדַ֣ת בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל לְמִשְׁפְּחֹתָ֖ם לְבֵ֣ית אֲבֹתָ֑ם בְּמִסְפַּ֣ר שֵׁמ֔וֹת כָּל־זָכָ֖ר לְגֻלְגְּלֹתָֽם׃ Take a census of the whole Israelite community by the families of their ancestral houses, listing the names, every male, head by head. (Bamidbar/Numbers 1:2) On the surface, the parshah is talking about taking a census of the Israelite males who can be made ready for battle. But on a deeper metaphorical level, there is wisdom here for harmonizing the contradicting advice to think more and to think less: שְׂא֗וּ אֶת־רֹאשׁ֙ – S’u et rosh – lift the head… This phrase is an idiom for taking a census. But the deeper implication is that before going out to “do battle” with the challenges of life, we must “lift our head” – that is, elevate our perspective to see our situation as clearly as we can, which means transcending and getting free from whatever thoughts and feelings in which we might be entangled. This is thinking less. It is the practice of Presence and meditation. From this elevated place, we can than begin to act consciously and intentionally. How? כָּל־עֲדַ֣ת בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל – kol adat b’nei Yisrael – all the assembly of the Children of Israel… Yisrael means sarita El, “striving for the Divine.” It is the meaning of our collective identity, to “assemble” (adat) things so as to bring forth “Godliness” or “holiness.” So, the first thing we should do if we want to get clarity on the right path to take is to ask ourselves, “What is my purpose in doing such-and-such? What am I trying to accomplish?” We can sometimes act automatically, without really considering what we are trying to do. This question cuts through that unconsciousness and brings us face to face with our power of decision. It doesn’t guarantee that we will succeed, but if we don’t ask this question, we are almost certain to fail. Once we get clear on our kavanah, our intention, we might simply drop whatever we were considering doing if the intention isn’t good. But, if the intention is good, then we can move onto the next question. לְמִשְׁפְּחֹתָ֖ם – l’mishp’khotam – by their families… “Family” consists of those close to us, those we for whom we are responsible, and those who are responsible for us. This hints at the next question: “How will this action affect people?” “People” doesn’t necessarily mean other people; we also need to consider how things will affect ourselves. For example, we might consider looking at the news or social media. We might determine that our intention is good, that we are trying to be informed and connected to the world. But then we ask, “How will this affect people?” To some extent, there may be no ill affect. But beyond that point, if news and social media create negativity and anxiety in ourselves, and we then project that negativity towards others, we need to be aware of that aspect in our decision process, which brings us to the final question: בְּמִסְפַּ֣ר שֵׁמ֔וֹת כָּל־זָכָ֖ר לְגֻלְגְּלֹתָֽם – b’mispar shemot, kol; zakhar l’gulg’lotam – by the number of names, every male, head by head… Once we “name” both what the purpose is and what the effect will be, we have to “number” it – we have to ask, “Is it worth it?” In other words, if our intention is good but the consequences are dire, we need to ask which “counts” more; we need to evaluate and decide. Again, this is no guarantee that we will make the right choice, but if we don’t evaluate and decide, it is likely we will make the wrong choice. And if, after careful thinking the situation through, we do end up making the wrong choice, this too has goodness to it, because we will learn from it. This two-part process of “lifting the head,” that is, the stripping away of thought in meditation, followed by the “numbering of names,” that is, careful evaluation of purpose and consequence, is represented in Kabbalah by the dual sefirot on the Tree of Life of Hokhmah (wisdom, awareness) and Binah (understanding, focused thought). Seen in this way, there is no contradiction in the advice to “think more” and “think less”; they are two parts of one process. Here are the three questions again for use in deciding on a course of action:
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The Lazy Man – Parshat Bamidbar
6/5/2019 1 Comment Yankel was too lazy to do physical exercise. But as he got older, he realized that he had better take care of his body, or he would soon be in trouble. So, he hired a personal trainer to teach him and motivate him to work out. The personal trainer began by coming to his house every day. First, she taught him the exercises that would be best for him. But when it came to actually doing them, Yankel was so lazy, that the trainer would have to yell cheers and encouragements: “Come on Yankel you can do it!” she would shout. “That’s seven, just three more! Go! Go!” Over time, Yankel’s resistance dropped away more and more, and it became easier and easier for the trainer to motivate him. After several weeks, the trainer didn’t have to do anything except come over to check and make sure Yankel was exercising. Yankel even shouted out his own motivational cheers: “I can do it! One! Two! Just seven more to go! Getting stronger! Three!” Eventually, the trainer didn’t even come inside, but just listened at the door. She would hear Yankel yelling to himself: “Getting stronger and stronger! I can do it! Five! Six! Four more to go!” When she would hear him yelling through the door, she would leave, satisfied that he was doing it on his own. But, when they finally had a meeting after several months to evaluate and adjust his exercise routine, she noticed that he didn’t look like he was exercising at all; he was almost as unfit as he had been before they began. “How strange! I hear you working out every day, but it seems like you haven’t been doing anything!” “Oh, I haven’t been working out,” said Yankel. “But I come by every day and hear you yelling and counting reps!” said the trainer. “Yes – I figured if you heard me counting, you would think I was working out and leave me alone.” When it comes to prayer, many folks are just like Yankel – perhaps going through the motions, saying the words, but nothing is really happening. It’s not that the words are irrelevant – the cheers and counting of reps can be a good accompaniment and even encouragement to exercise; but it’s no substitute for exercise. Similarly, sacred words and rituals can be a wonderful accompaniment and even expression of prayer, but they’re not the prayer itself. As long as the words are helping you do the real inner activity of prayer, they are doing their job. But if they become a substitute for prayer, then we are missing the point. It is understandable that the form of prayer – how many times per day, what texts to say on which day, and so on, could easily eclipse the real, inner reality of prayer, because form is quantifiable. We can easily talk about and define how to fulfill prayer in form. But the inner reality of prayer is connection with the Timeless, with the Un-Countable; it’s more difficult to talk about and evaluate. There is a nice hint about these two sides of reality – form and The Formless, finite and Eternal, in the opening lines of the parshah and the haftorah. The parshah begins: שְׂא֗וּ אֶת־רֹאשׁ֙ כָּל־עֲדַ֣ת בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל לְמִשְׁפְּחֹתָ֖ם לְבֵ֣ית אֲבֹתָ֑ם בְּמִסְפַּ֣ר שֵׁמ֔וֹת כָּל־זָכָ֖ר לְגֻלְגְּלֹתָֽם׃ Lift the head (take a head count) of the whole community of the children of Israel, by the families of the houses of their fathers, counting the names of every male, head by head. This is about quantifying the people, giving them a number, so as to know how many soldiers they have. On the other hand, the haftora from Hosea, chapter 2, begins: וְֽ֠הָיָה מִסְפַּ֤ר בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵל֙ כְּח֣וֹל הַיָּ֔ם אֲשֶׁ֥ר לֹֽא־יִמַּ֖ד וְלֹ֣א יִסָּפֵ֑ר וְֽ֠הָיָה בִּמְק֞וֹם אֲשֶׁר־יֵאָמֵ֤ר לָהֶם֙ לֹֽא־עַמִּ֣י אַתֶּ֔ם יֵאָמֵ֥ר לָהֶ֖ם בְּנֵ֥י אֵֽל־חָֽי׃ The number of the children of Israel shall be like the sands of the sea, which cannot be measured or counted; and instead of being told, “You are Not-My-People,” they shall be called “Children of the Living God.” The text then leaves this uplifting vision and talks about how the Children of Israel have strayed and run after idols, the “ba’alim.” Israel is compared to a harlot, an unfaithful wife, running after other lovers. Why does she do this? “I will go after my lovers, for they will give me my bread and water, my wool and linin, my oil and my drink.” In other words, the Children of Israel aren’t satisfied; they want more. Rather than appreciate what is present, they run after that which is not present; they imagine they can achieve more gratification. Pursue her lovers as she will, she shall not overtake them; and seek them as she may, she shall never find them. Then she will say, “I will go and return to my First Husband, for then I fared better than now...” Eventually, Israel realizes that her obsession with more, (called “idolatry”) only causes her suffering, and so she comes home to appreciate the gifts she already had (called teshuvah, returning to the Divine). The hint here is that, on a deep and practical level, “idolatry” really means fixating on that which is not present; it means elevating the images in our minds above the actual Reality right in front of us. The “idol” is that which is not present; the Divine is Presence. Of course, there is nothing wrong with imagining what we need or want in the future; that’s the job of the mind. We have to count and quantify; we have to make maps of the world in order to navigate it. The point is not to elevate the map over the territory; the point is not to live in your mind, but to live in the Living Present. The maps of the mind are useful, but they are not alive; they are not the Real Thing. This understanding of idols as dead concepts about reality substituting for Actual Living Reality is expressed in Psalm 15: פֶּֽה־לָ֭הֶם וְלֹ֣א יְדַבֵּ֑רוּ They have mouths, but cannot speak… The true Divine, however, is That which speaks, as the parshah opens: וַיְדַבֵּ֨ר יְהוָ֧ה אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֛ה בְּמִדְבַּ֥ר סִינַ֖י בְּאֹ֣הֶל מוֹעֵ֑ד The Divine spoke to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai, in the Tent of Meeting… The Hassidic rebbe, Rabbi Yisrael of Rizhyn, told that when he was learning with the great Maggid, Rabbi Dov Bear of Mezrich, all the disciples learned and memorized the master’s teachings except one: Reb Zushia. This is because when the Maggid would begin to expound a verse of Torah, so many of the verses began like this: Vay’daber Hashem – and the Divine spoke… Whenever Reb Zushia would hear these words, he would go into a fit of seizures: “Hashem spoke!!! Hashem spoke!!!” he would scream, and they would have to take him out into the shed until the teaching was over. “But,” rabbi Yisrael would add, “that’s okay, because even one word spoken in truth and received in truth is enough…” Right now, and always, the Divine is speaking. The words aren’t necessarily conveying a conceptual message: Even one word spoken in truth and received in truth is enough. Meaning, when we deeply connect with the truth of this moment, then Reality Itself can be received as “Divine Speech.” When we receive the Present in this way, it is deeply liberating, shaking us from the dead maps of the mind and into the Living Present. For some, realizing this may send you into convulsions like Reb Zushia, but not necessarily so. A disciple asked Reb Pinkhas of Koretz, “Why is it that you are so calm and still when you daven (pray), unlike so many other tzadikim who thrash about in ecstatic convulsions?” Reb Pinkhas replied, “You know, the essence of prayer is deveikut, attachment to the Divine, and this involves the death of the separate self. There are two kinds of death: one kind is as difficult as pulling a rope through a mast, and the other is easy as removing an eyelash from a glass of milk. It is the second kind that I was granted…” For some, ecstatic movement is the path; for some, stillness. The point is not the particular path, but rather that we use the mind properly, that we use the mind as a tool to navigate the world in time, but not let it get in the way of connecting with the Eternal. As the beginning of the parshah says: S’u et rosh – normally translated “take a census,” but literally: “lift up the head!” In other words, elevate your mind by understanding its limitation; use the mind to go beyond the mind. As we come to the end of the annual ritual of counting the 49 days of the Omer, may we use the quantifying mind wisely to express our praise, gratitude and ultimate unity with the Eternal within the world of time… Good Shabbos! Parshat Bamidbar 5/17/2018 1 Comment Once, Rabbi Shmelke and his brother came to their teacher, the Maggid of Metzritch, with a problem: "Our sages say that we should give praise and thanks to Hashem for all the misfortunes that befall us, as well as for the blessings. How can we understand this?" "Go ask Reb Zushia," replied the Maggid, "he sits in the Beit Midrash, smoking his pipe." They went and found Reb Zushia and put the question to him. Reb Zushia just laughed. "Ha! Surely you've come to the wrong man, for I have never experienced misfortune!" "How can you say that?" replied Reb Shmelke, "for you have been impoverished for most of your life!" "Let me tell you a story," said Reb Zushia. "Once there was a king who wished to test his subjects, so he arranged a massive festival in an outdoor park. He had hundreds of precious objects from the palace brought out on display, and sent this message throughout the kingdom: "Let everyone come and pick one object from among my treasures to take for themselves." People came from all over and wandered through the park, picking and choosing the treasures they wanted. Among them was an old beggar woman who made her way to the king and asked, "Your Highness, is it true I can choose anything in this park to take for my own?" "Yes!" replied the king, "anything you want." "Then," replied the old woman, "I choose you!" "Ha, you have chosen wisely!" said the king. "You get me, and my whole kingdom!" The amazing news is, you're in that park right now. Ordinarily, we tend to focus on the different treasures – the fruits of our efforts that we desire. But just one small shift, and you have the whole kingdom, instantly. What is that shift? Dedicate your actions to the Divine. Dedicate your words to the Divine. Dedicate your thoughts to the Divine. Don't worry about the fruits; just do your best in service and love, and let the Divine give you what It gives you. Shift your motivation from the separate things and goals, to the One Thing, the One Goal. The One is always instantly available, but you have to shift into that frame; you have to elevate the way you think. This week's reading begins with the instruction to take a census of the Israelites: ...שְׂא֗וּ אֶת־רֹאשׁ֙ כָּל־עֲדַ֣ת בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל S'u et rosh kol ada'at b'nei Yisrael – Lift the heads of the children of Israel... "Lift the heads" is an idiom that means to take a "head count" – that's the census. Yisrael means, SARita im ELohim – Strive for the Divine (Gen. 32.29). So, if you want to reach the Divine, you must "lift your head". You must elevate the way that you think. All your goals, responsibilities, tasks, your whole life situation – know that it's all a path to the Divine, if you but keep the Divine in mind, and dedicate everything to the Divine. Pirkei Avot, 1:3, says: אַל תִּהְיוּ כַעֲבָדִים הַמְשַׁמְּשִׁין אֶת הָרַב עַל מְנָת לְקַבֵּל פְּרָס, אֶלָּא הֱווּ כַעֲבָדִים הַמְשַׁמְּשִׁין אֶת הָרַב שֶׁלֹּא עַל מְנָת לְקַבֵּל פְּרָס Don't be like the servant who serves the master to receive a reward, be like the servant who serves the master not to receive a reward... In other words, shift your motivation to serve the One, and let go of separate, particular goals. This doesn't necessarily mean changing anything you're doing; it means changing your motivation, changing your frame. וִיהִי מוֹרָא שָׁמַיִם עֲלֵיכֶם and let the awe of heaven be upon you. "Heaven" means the space of your own awareness, within which your experience arises. Your awareness is the gateway to Heaven – it is always whole, complete, at peace. So when you declutter yourself from all separate aims, and instead aim at the One Thing that is ever-available, you can know yourself as the space of this moment, and Heaven can come together with Earth... This Saturday night is Shavuot, the Festival of Revelation. May we all receive a new insight for bringing Heaven down to Earth, a new revelation on our paths... The Garbage Truck- Parshat Bamidbar 6/9/2016 2 Comments One morning, as I lay in bed around 6:30 am, I heard a rumbling sound from deep within whatever dream I was having. “That sound… it means something… something important… what is that sound?” The garbage truck! I had forgotten to put the garbage out the night before, and the can was pretty full. I leapt out of bed, slid into some pants, darted downstairs and out the front door. I looked and saw- the garbage truck had already passed my house and was halfway down the street! I grabbed the can and ran after him, rolling it behind me. When I caught up, I started to politely ask him if he would take it, but before even one word came from my lips he grabbed it from me violently, almost knocking me over and barked something like “GIMMEE IT!” …I think. Wow- he had certainly drunk his coffee already. Maybe a little too much. But I was grateful that he took it at all! So, what would make you get up in the morning so fast? The codes of Jewish law are somewhat paradoxical about getting up in the morning. On one hand, they say that you should leap out of bed to “do the Will of the Creator”- no laziness! Not a moment should be wasted- there is much to do! Get up with the “strength of a lion” and jump into the day. On the other hand, before you get up, you should take a moment to receive the gift of your life, chanting- “Modeh ani lifanekha- I give thanks before you…” Then should you leap into your day? No, you should ritually wash your hands, with the kavanah (intention) to purify your heart so that you can serve with love in all your actions. Okay now should get on with it, right? No. First there are many blessings to be chanted, many prayers to pray. And even before all of that, they say you should take some moments in silence to tap your inner depths in preparation. So which is it? Should you leap out of bed and get to work, or take your time to connect with your inner depths? But that’s the point- it's both. If you spend all your time in meditation, the bliss of Being reveals Itself within your own awareness, but the world remains untouched. On the other hand, if your life is focused solely on the external, then you become lost in its dramas, disconnected from you inner Source, and the world suffers for it. But connect with the Eternal in order to bring it into the temporal- that’s the alchemy! This week’s reading hints at this spiritual rhythm. It begins with Hashem instructing Moses to take a census of all the soldiers who are ready for battle- “Vay’daber Hashem el Moshe b’midbar Sinai- “Hashem spoke to Moses in the Sinai wilderness… “Se’u et rosh kol adat- “Take a census of the entire assembly…” Counting the soldiers is a metaphor for our external lives. Each day we should arouse ourselves like soldiers to do battle with our inner inertia and make every moment “count”. But then a few verses later, it gives the other half of the equation: “Akh et hamateh Levi lo tifkod- “But the tribe of Levi your shall not count…” The Levites weren’t soldiers, they were priests and musicians- caretakers of the Mishkan- the Sacred Space at the center of the camp. The soldiers went out to conquer the many, but the Levites connected to the One. And in the One, there’s nothing to count! There is only One! The trick is for these two sides- the internal and the external- the many and the One- to be in balance. Ideally, you express your inward sacredness through the external wilderness of life. But this takes practice- it’s no small thing staying connected to the holiness of this moment while running after the garbage truck! But fortunately, no matter how lost in the external we become, the present moment has not gone anywhere. It’s always here, open to our return, to our t’shuvah. There’s a story of the Chofetz Chayim, that he once had a student who was sunk in crushingly oppressive poverty. The student would often implore his master to pray on his behalf, and promised that if his prayers were answered and he were to become wealthy, he would give abundant tzeddaka- abundant charity to those in need. The Chofetz Chayim would just listen compassionately and nod. Years later, after the student had moved away to the city, he had indeed become exceedingly wealthy. The Chofetz Chayim went to visit him and asked- “So, how are things?” “Very well thank God,” said the former student, “I’ve been blessed with many riches.” “And how has your tzeddaka been going?” The rich former student turned red, embarrassed that he had forgotten his promise. In fact, as his riches grew more and more, his stinginess had grown as well. “You know,” said the Chofetz Chayim, “The more successful you are in your external battles, the stronger your yetzer hara- your lust for the external- also becomes.” In that moment, his delusion was broken, and he returned fully to the inner path that his heart had abandoned. He dedicated his wealth to service and became a fountain of relief for many who suffered in poverty. On this Shabbat Bamidbar, the Sabbath of the Wilderness, may we reconnect with this holy intention: to neither become lost in the drama and grasping of the external wilderness, nor abandon this world that is so in need of healing. Rather, let us connect frequently and deeply with the truth of this moment, bringing its love and wisdom into the story of our lives as it unfolds in time- for this brief time we inhabit these bodies, on this earth. Guard and Remember- Parshat Bamidbar 5/21/2015 3 Comments A question I often hear goes like this: “When I am meditating or chanting, I feel so deeply connected and I have no problem being my highest self. But, when stressful things in life push my buttons, all of that is out the window. "How do I maintain my spiritual connection in those moments?” This is a question that often comes up after you have had some success with your practice. Before that success, sure, you will still have been looking for a spiritual connection, realization, experience or whatever. But then, at the very moment when you think you've discovered and connected with what you've been searching for. . . Oy! . . . The problem is even deeper: How do I keep the connection? The simple answer, of course, is practice. You have to practice keeping that connection in different life situations. Only then will you get better and better at it. But I bet that answer doesn't feel so helpful to hear, right? After all, you know that when you find yourself in a stressful or triggering situation, two things sneak up and derail you: 1) You don’t care anymore about your spiritual connection, because you are triggered! You go into in a fight-or-flight mode. You just want to get out of there or lash out. 2) Even if you do care to practice in such a moment, you probably can’t remember to practice because you are triggered! Your emotions have taken over and blocked your memory of what's most essential, and how to get back to it! I guess you can see why, if you are going to actually be able to practice in those triggering situations, you'll first need a foolproof strategy for working through the two problems above. And . . . Here is exactly that! First of all, you need to remember to practice (zakhor), and second of all, you need to be motivated to practice (shamor). There are many ways to approach this, but let’s explore one. First, how do you remember? A great way to remember is to use what I call the “Fringe Technique”. You may know the traditional practice to wear fringes, called tzitizt, on a four-cornered garment, or tallit. The purpose of the tzitzit is exactly what we are talking about- they are a physical reminder on your body to dedicate your actions to the Divine and to avoid getting caught in distractions that take you away from that intention. Another purpose of the tzitzit is to remind you to do the mitzvot, the particular spiritual practices of Judaism, throughout your day. This brings us to the second problem- how do you remain motivated? Let’s take a particular mitzvah and see how this can work: There is a daily mitzvah to chant the words, “Ve’ahavtah et Hashem Elohekha… You shall love Existence, your inner Divinity, with all your heart, all your soul and all your might.” These words are an expression of commitment. For the sake of clarity, let’s rephrase it to express this commitment more explicitly. You might say, “I commit to serving the Divine in everything I do.” If you say this commitment every day (or use the traditional words, but understand them and mean them as a commitment), then you are adding tremendous power to your intention to practice in difficult moments. Why? Because even when you don’t care about spirituality in a moment of being triggered, you have made a commitment and you can rely on that commitment. You don’t have to care; you just have to honor your commitment. The actual saying out loud of a commitment will give tremendous power to your intention, even in the most difficult moments. But now you still have to remember your commitment. That’s where the “fringe” comes in. You need to have some kind of reminder that works for you all day long, so that your chances of remembering in those difficult moments are increased thousand-fold. Your reminder could actually be tzitzit. Of course, just wearing tzitzit is not enough; you have to train yourself to be reminded of your intention by them. For example, make it a practice to say your commitment over and over again, every time you look down and see them. But, any reminder will work, as long as you empower it as a reminder. For example, you could set your smart phone to give you reminders throughout the day. Or, you could wear something else like a piece of jewelry to remind you. Whatever you use, the key is to verbally say your intention out loud every day, and then have something to remind you throughout the day. Using this “Fringe Technique” is so powerful, you can transform your entire life in any direction you choose, simply by programming yourself with the intentions you choose. This week’s reading begins, “Vayidaber Hashem el Moshe b’midbar Sinai- Hashem spoke to Moses in the Sinai wilderness… se’u et rosh kol adat- take a census of the entire assembly… according to their head count…” Moses is instructed to count the Israelites who are ready to out go to battle. The wilderness, the midbar, is the arena in which we live. Like the wild of nature, life itself is not totally predictable. It throws us curve balls. We need to be like soldiers if we are to make each moment count by bringing our spiritual commitments to every situation. But later it says, “V’hal’viyim lo hotpakdu- the Levites were not counted…” The Levites weren’t soldiers. They were in charge of the sanctuary- the sacred space at the center of the camp where the Divine rested. They represent the people’s connection to the One. In the One, there is nothing to count! There is only One! And this is the paradox- To bring liberating intention to each moment, you need strategies that work in time. You need to be like a soldier. But, the Reality you safeguard through those strategies is Itself beyond time. It is the space of Presence that does not change; it is Being Itself- it is not born and does not die. When you stay connected to That, the storms of life cannot shake you. You sit within the eye of the hurricane, the holy of holies. May we bring forth our potential for unity and love through the power of our commitment to this moment, and may the world swiftly be transformed by it- Good Shabbos!
וַיְדַבֵּ֤ר יְהוָה֙ אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה בְּהַ֥ר סִינַ֖י לֵאמֹֽר׃
דַּבֵּ֞ר אֶל־בְּנֵ֤י יִשְׂרָאֵל֙ וְאָמַרְתָּ֣ אֲלֵהֶ֔ם כִּ֤י תָבֹ֙אוּ֙ אֶל־הָאָ֔רֶץ אֲשֶׁ֥ר אֲנִ֖י נֹתֵ֣ן לָכֶ֑ם וְשָׁבְתָ֣ה הָאָ֔רֶץ שַׁבָּ֖ת לַיהוָֽה׃ שֵׁ֤שׁ שָׁנִים֙ תִּזְרַ֣ע שָׂדֶ֔ךָ וְשֵׁ֥שׁ שָׁנִ֖ים תִּזְמֹ֣ר כַּרְמֶ֑ךָ וְאָסַפְתָּ֖ אֶת־תְּבוּאָתָֽהּ׃ The Divine spoke to Moses on Mt. Sinai saying, “Speak to the children of Israel and say to them, ‘When you come into the land that I give you, the land shall rest – a Shabbat for the Divine. Six years you shall sow your fields and six years you shall prune your vinyards and gather in your yields…’” (Leviticus 25) This week was the festival of Lag b’Omer, which means the “thirty-third day of the Omer,” the practice of counting the days between Pesakh and Shavuot. Lag is lamed ל – gimel ג, thirty-three. (Hebrew letters have numberical values; lamed ל is thirty, gimel ג is three.) These two letters, lamed ל – gimel ג, also have meanings: Lamed ל means “learn.” To learn means to go from a state of less knowledge to more knowledge; it is forward moving in time, filling a lack, going from incomplete to more complete without end, never reaching completion (since there is always more to learn). Gimel ג has the opposite connotation. Gamal means to “pay back,” in the sense of being already complete to overflowing. A gamal is also a camel, which carries its water in its hump as it traverses the desert; again, a symbol of being already complete-within-oneself. These two opposite meanings – the never-complete of lamed ל and the already-complete of gimel ג – point to two dimensions of our experience, right now. On the level of form, we are ever-incomplete. Our bodies need constant nourishment and excercise, and our minds must actively learn new things to stay sharp. In terms of spiritual practice, this is the ongoing practice of studying texts and contemplating meanings with the thinking mind. There is a hint in the Parshah: Six years you shall sow (tizra) your fields… Tizra תִּזְרַ֣ע, “sowing” or “seeding” is the work we must do on the “fields” of our minds. This is lamed ל, “learning.” But on the level of consciousness, the open space of awareness within which all forms come and go, there is a completeness to this moment; there is a wholeness when we “arrive” into the present. This is gimel ג. But to experience this fullness, we paradoxically need more emptiness; we need to “prune” away excess thought, so that we can sense the underlying Presence beneath our thoughts: …six years you shall prune (tizmor) your vinyards… Tizmor תִּזְמֹ֣ר, “pruning,” is the work we must do on “grapevine tendrils” of thought; this is meditation. “Sowing” and “pruning,” learning and meditation, thinking and not-thinking, are the substance of daily spiritual practice aimed at bringing about inner transformation. Six years you shall sow your fields and six years you shall prune your vinyards… “Six Years” is sheish shanim שֵׁשׁ שָׁנִים. Shanim, “years,” also can mean “change.” “Six” also means change, as in the “six days of creation.” The Hebrew letter that represents the number six is vav ו which, as a prefix, means “and” – again, implying adding, transforming, doing the dual spiritual work of “sowing” and “pruning.” But there is also a level at which all work stops. It stops not because the “sowing” and “pruning” are no longer happening, but because at this deep level, there is the recognition that is not “me” who does the work; there is the recognition that everything comes from and returns to the same Reality; we can’t “take credit” for any of it. This level is represented by Lag B’Omer. In terms of the sefirot, Lag B’Omer is Hod Sheb’Hod, or “Humility of Humility.” The essence of humility is not some kind of self-deprication or belittlement; it is the recognition that the “me” comes from beyond “me”; existance is a gift, everything I have and am is a gift. This is also freedom: we have nothing to lose or gain, because ultimately there is only Reality, there is only the Divine. וְשָׁבְתָ֣ה הָאָ֔רֶץ שַׁבָּ֖ת לַיהוָֽה – The land will rest a Shabbat for the Divine… You can “let the land rest a Shabbat for the Divine” any time – try it! Before you learn, before you meditate, before you do the dishes, whatever – take a moment to recognize Reality, to simply stop, to let the “me” dissolve and let this moment be One…
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The Bird and The Lizard – Parshat Behar
5/22/2019 0 Comments A friend of mine went to let out his dog, when he noticed a cute little baby dove huddled on the ground. Above was the nest that it must have fallen from. He kept his dog in the house while he went out and lifted the baby bird back into its nest. He wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do, but it seemed the right thing in the moment, and it was a warm and gratifying feeling to save that baby bird. Not long after, he was moving some furniture in his workplace. As he lifted a desk, be was taken aback by a huge, dead, rotting lizard with maggots crawling in it! It was disgusting sight, and he had to deal with it and clean it up. He told me this story because it seemed to him almost like a symbolic dream, and he was wondering what it meant. Why such a gratifying, life-affirming, cuddly experience followed by such a disgusting horrific, death centered experience? What was the meaning of it? Sometimes we are given situations that require immediate action. These are the real-time “commandments” – the mitzvot we don’t learn from books, but that appear to us and demand a response without hesitation. Sometimes the action required is to save a cute little bird, sometimes to clean up a rotting lizard corpse. Sometimes it is to feed a hungry baby, sometimes it is to yank a child out of the street when a car is coming, and sometimes it is to bury a loved one who has died unexpectedly. In other words, when it comes to being present to what is needed in the moment, it may be bitter or it may be sweet. There is a full spectrum of human experience, and if we want to be available to the “commandment” of the moment, we have to be open to both – we can’t avoid any of it. Of course, most of the time, there isn’t some unexpected urgent thing to deal with, barukh Hashem. Still, when it comes to being spiritually awake, when it comes to connecting with the Divine as the Reality of this moment, there is an ever-present urgency. There is only one place and one time to wake up and be free, and that is here, right now. As Hillel says, אִם לֹא עַכְשָׁיו, אֵימָתָי – If not now, when? And yet, paradoxically, to wake up is to fully accept; it is to embrace the Reality of this moment, not resist it. This has almost the opposite quality of urgency. It is more like patience; it is more like planting a seed and simply watching it grow, rather than jumping in and taking some action. לֹא הַבַּיְשָׁן לָמֵד, וְלֹא הַקַּפְּדָן מְלַמֵּד …a timid person can’t learn, and an impatient person can’t teach… -Pirkei Avot 2:6 Full Presence means the unity of these two seemingly opposite qualities. On one hand, don’t be timid – jump fully into the present, now! On the other hand, jumping fully into the Now means allowing it to be as it is, not to be impatient about how you think it should be or how you want it to be. אֵ֣ת סְפִ֤יחַ קְצִֽירְךָ֙ לֹ֣א תִקְצ֔וֹר וְאֶת־עִנְּבֵ֥י נְזִירֶ֖ךָ לֹ֣א תִבְצֹ֑ר שְׁנַ֥ת שַׁבָּת֖וֹן יִהְיֶ֥ה לָאָֽרֶץ׃ וְ֠הָיְתָה שַׁבַּ֨ת הָאָ֤רֶץ לָכֶם֙ לְאָכְלָ֔ה You shall not reap the aftergrowth of your harvest or gather the grapes of your untrimmed vines; it shall be a year of complete rest for the land. But you may eat whatever the land during its Sabbath will produce… The parshah talks about the practice of the shmita, the cycle in which every seven years, the land is given a Shabbat, a year of rest from farming. During this year, the Israelites were forbidden to work the land, to prune their vines, or manipulate their crops in any way. But, they could pick and eat whatever was there; they had to survive on whatever the land naturally gave them, without interference. This is a perfect metaphor for Presence: accept fully what this moment gives you, both the nourishing food and the thistles and thorns. Even as we work externally to bring about certain results, as we must do, on an inner level there can be a Sabbath of the land; we can accept both the bird and the lizard with that quality of patience, allowing the process to unfold as it must. Rabbi Levi Yitzhak once saw a man running. “Why are you in such a hurry?” “I am running after my livelihood!” replied the man. “You think your livelihood is in front of you and you must catch up to it, but how do you know it’s not behind you, and all you have to do is stop and let it catch up to you?” Ascend- Parshat Behar- On the Mountain 5/18/2017 0 Comments "When you come into the land that I give to you, the land will rest a Shabbat for the Divine..." The Torah reading Parshat Behar opens by talking about Shabbat not as a day of rest for people, but as a rest for the land. It says: Ki tavo’u el ha’aretz asher ani notein lakhem, v’shavta ha’aretz Shabbat laShem- When you come into the land that I give to you, the land will rest a Shabbat for the Divine. It then goes on to explain what it means for the land to rest: "Sheish shanim tizra sadekha v’sheish shanim tizmor karmekha v’asafta t’vuatah- "Six years your will plant your field, prune your vineyard and gather in your produce. "Uvashana hashvi’it Shabbat shabbaton yiyeh la’aretz- But the seventh year should be a Sabbath of Sabbaths for the land… don’t plant your field or prune your vineyard..." Now the Torah doesn’t talk much about vegetables. When it refers to planting fields, it’s mostly talking about grain, and from the grain is made the ancient staple, bread. Pruning vineyards is a reference of course to grapes that are made into wine. Now wine and bread are not only basic foods, they’re also sacramental foods- forming the ritual part of sacred meals on Shabbat and festivals. In fact, the first mention of this is in Bereishit 14:18 when Makitzedek, the priest-king of Shalem, blesses Avraham and brings him bread and wine. I heard once from a friend a special teaching that he heard from Rabbi Shlomo Carlbach of blessed memory. He pointed out that wine is something that gets better and better with age. You pay more for wine depending on how old it is. Bread, on the other hand, has to be fresh. No one wants a fifty year-old loaf of bread. Similarly, there’s an aspect of the spiritual path that’s ancient and an aspect that’s fresh and new. For example, the Torah, and really the whole Jewish tradition, is ancient and there’s a special richness in that. And even though there are plenty of passages in the Torah that may seem wrong and even disturbing, that’s offset in a sense by the richness of being connected to a lineage that’s many thousands of years old. And yet, that richness doesn’t really come to life unless it’s combined with fresh, new insights and interpretations. No one wants to hear the same old canonized interpretations over and over again. For the tradition to really live, it also has to be like bread- we need khidushim-new insights. On a deeper level, the very practice of Presence also contains these two aspects. On one hand, there is nothing more ancient than the present moment. There’s nothing that’s ever existed that didn’t exist in the space of its own present. That’s why one of the names of God is Atik Yomin- the Ancient of Days. And when you become fully present to the ancient space of this moment, there’s an intoxication, as you drink in the wine of the Being. At the same time, in becoming present to That which is most ancient, there’s also a spontaneous letting go of mental and emotional baggage from the past so that everything in your experience becomes alive and new like a freshly baked challah. So on this Shabbat B’Har and B’khukotai- the Sabbath of the Mountain and the Decree- may continue to ascend the mountain of transcendence and freedom through both the wine of tradition and the bread of immediacy, bringing that transcendence into the flow of actual life, doing our part to fulfill the decree of tikum olam- transforming this world into a celebration of creation and an expression of love. Good Shabbos!! Lonely The Drive- Parshat Behar 5/26/2016 0 Comments If you could choose exactly how much time to waste every day, how much would it be? Would you waste two hours per day? One hour per day? Or would you be conservative- maybe only waste twenty minutes? Five minutes? And furthermore, what does it mean to “waste time” anyway? Is watching a movie wasting time? What about sitting around enjoying a cup of tea? Taking a walk for no particular reason? Or, is “wasting time” about doing something that creates the exact opposite of what you want? If enjoyment is what you want, maybe watching a movie is a good use of time, as long as it’s not in excess. If peace is what you want, maybe sipping tea and taking walks are a great way to spend time. And, if you want to be miserable, maybe complaining and judging and gossiping and putting yourself and others down are just what the doctor ordered. But who wants to be miserable? And yet, many spend time complaining and judging and gossiping and putting self and others down. When was the last time you did one of those things? There’s really only one reason you would do something that creates the opposite result of what you want, and that’s not being conscious of what you are doing. Consciousness is the key. You want health, but an impulse arises to eat that unhealthy food. The impulse is bothering you, and you unconsciously assume that fulfilling the impulse will make you feel better and bring you peace. The problem is, fulfilling the impulse only gives you a temporary experience of relief, and you still haven’t come closer to the real peace you are seeking... plus you are working against your health. The real peace you seek can only come from getting to know who you are beneath all the impulses. It comes from knowing that underneath all your restless energies, there is an awareness that knows the restlessness. That awareness is peace. Shift your home from the restlessness to that awareness, and peace is yours, because you rise above all the stories about how you need this or that to have peace. But to do that, you need to be willing to let go of the company of your own thoughts, and be truly alone. This week’s reading begins- “Vayedaber Hashem el Moshe b’har Sinai- "Hashem spoke to Moses on Mt. Sinai…” After driving my son to school in the morning, I used to return home along Skyline up in the Oakland hills, from which I can catch a glimpse of the entire East Bay and San Francisco. Seeing these cities from above is an entirely different experience from being down in them. There is a sense of peace, of wonder, of floating above the seething urban chaos. It’s the same spiritually. To hear the Voice of the Divine, you have to take some time to tune out the voices of the mundane- that is, the voices of your own mind. Sinai is totally within you and available, once the movement of the mind subsides. And from Sinai comes the “Voice of the Divine”- meaning, the inner wisdom of how to live- to live without wasting time. A still mind is not a waste of time, it is the end of time. As the end of time, it's also the fulfillment of time. Fulfillment is completely available to you, right now, to the degree that you can open to your inner Sinai. The reading goes on to say- “Ki tavo el ha’arets… v’shavtah ha’arets Shabbat LaShem… "When you come into the land… the land itself shall rest a Shabbat…” The “land” is life itself- messy, chaotic, beautiful life itself. But, when you stop wasting time, guess what- life doesn’t take so much energy! Life itself becomes a “Shabbat”- simple, clear, straightforward. Do you want simplicity? Do you want clarity? Do you want peace? Do you want a life that is wholly Shabbat? Make a commitment now: “I will let go of all excess thought, moment by moment. I will refrain from creating negative narratives and stand alone in the Presence of God, without the noise of the mind.” Can you make this commitment? The Baal Shem Tov told: "Once I dreamed that I traveled to Gan Eden- the Garden of Eden- and many people went with me, chattering excitedly. But the closer I came to the Garden, the more of them disappeared, and the more quiet it became. "When I finally entered Paradise, there were only a few of them left, speaking softly, with few words. But when I stood beside the Tree of Life, I looked around- and I seemed to be alone." On this Shabbat Behar, The Sabbath on the Mountain, may have the courage to walk the road of true aloneness- aloneness not in the sense of being without others, but in the sense of allowing the mind to stand alone, without the constant and relentless company of thought. May we be renewed in peace and clarity- Good Shabbos! Is Time Wasting? Parshat Behar 5/15/2015 1 Comment Here’s a question for you- If you could choose exactly how much time to waste every day, how much would it be? Would you waste two hours per day? One hour per day? Or would you be conservative- maybe only waste twenty minutes? Five minutes? And furthermore, what does it mean to “waste time” anyway? Is watching a movie wasting time? What about sitting around enjoying a cup of tea? Taking a walk for no particular reason? Or, is “wasting time” about doing something that creates the exact opposite of what you want? If enjoyment is what you want, maybe watching a movie is a good use of time, as long as it’s not in excess. If peace is what you want, maybe sipping tea and taking walks are a great way to spend time. And, if you want to be miserable, maybe complaining and judging and gossiping and putting yourself and others down are just what the doctor ordered. But who wants to be miserable? And yet, many spend time complaining and judging and gossiping and putting self and others down. When was the last time you did one of those things? There’s really only one reason you would do something that creates the opposite result of what you want, and that’s not being conscious of what you are doing. Consciousness is the key. You want peace, but an impulse arises to eat that unhealthy food. The impulse is bothering you, and you unconsciously assume that fulfilling the impulse will make you feel better and bring you peace. The problem is, fulfilling the impulse only gives you a temporary experience of relief, and you still haven’t come closer to the real peace you are seeking. The real peace you seek can only come from getting to know who you are beneath all the impulses. It comes from knowing that underneath all your restless energies, you are peace, and you can know it for yourself. You can rise above any stories telling you that you need this or that to have peace. But to do that, you need to be conscious. You need to wake up from the dream of discontent that your impulses thrive on. How do you do that? This week’s reading begins- “Vayedaber Hashem el Moshe b’har Sinai- Hashem spoke to Moses on Mt. Sinai…” After driving my son to school in the morning, I often return home along Skyline up in the Oakland hills, from which I can catch a glimpse of the entire East Bay and San Francisco. Seeing these cities from above is an entirely different experience from being down in them. There is a sense of peace, of wonder, of floating above the seething urban chaos. It’s the same spiritually. In order to be conscious and free as you move through any disruptive and seductive energies in day-to-day life, you’ve got to get up on the mountain sometimes. To hear the Voice of the Divine, you have to take some time to tune out the voices of the mundane. Where do those mundane voices come from? They come from your own mind! Sinai is totally within you and available to you, once the movement of the mind subsides. From Sinai comes the “Voice of the Divine”- meaning, the inner wisdom of how to live- -to live without wasting time. A still mind is not a waste of time, it is the end of time. As the end of time, it is also the fulfillment of time. Fulfillment is completely available to you, right now, to the degree that you can open to your inner Sinai. The reading goes on to say- “ki tavo el ha’arets… v’shavtah ha’arets Shabbat LaShem… when you come into the land… the land itself shall rest a Shabbat…” The “land” is life itself- messy, chaotic, beautiful life itself. But, when you stop wasting time, guess what- life doesn’t take so much energy! Your life itself becomes a “Shabbat”- simple, clear, straightforward. Do you want simplicity? Do you want clarity? Do you want peace? Do you want a life that is wholly Shabbat? Make a commitment now: “I will let go of all excess thought, moment by moment. I will refrain from creating negative narratives and open to the reality of this moment, from this moment onward.” Can you make this commitment? I wish you renewing peace and clarity on this holy Shabbat, from the mountaintop~ Good Shabbos!
וַיֹּ֤אמֶר יְי אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה אֱמֹ֥ר אֶל־הַכֹּהֲנִ֖ים בְּנֵ֣י אַהֲרֹ֑ן וְאָמַרְתָּ֣ אֲלֵהֶ֔ם לְנֶ֥פֶשׁ לֹֽא־יִטַּמָּ֖א בְּעַמָּֽיו׃
כִּ֚י אִם־לִשְׁאֵר֔וֹ הַקָּרֹ֖ב אֵלָ֑יו The Divine said to Moses, ‘speak to the priests, the sons of Aaron, and tell them that they should not make themselves spiritually impure for a (dead) person among their people, except for close relatives…’ (Leviticus 21:1-2) In the plain meaning, this is talking about the purity laws for the kohanim (priests), that they shouldn’t touch a corpse and become ritually defiled, except for when close relatives die. On a deeper level, there is a practical and universal message: on one hand, it is beneficial to be know what makes us tamei, that is, spiritually “dead” inside, and avoid those things. Is it too much news and social media? Is it dealing with particularly difficult people? Is it your job, or certain kinds of entertainment, or some addictive substance? To be on the spiritual path means we have to take responsibility for what experiences we take in, just as those on a path of physical health must take responsibility for what food they take in. This is lo yitama – don’t defile yourself! At the same time, we also need to sometimes do the opposite, because if we try to avoid tumah completely, we can never grow spiritually in our ability to stay free and at peace in the midst of disturbance. Furthermore, on a deeper level, the avoidance itself can become a kind of tumah. Guarding ourselves from disturbances is necessary, but it also can become a neurotic attempt to control our experience; life happens and we must meet it, not avoid it. This is ki im lish’eiro karov eilav – except for a close relative. The key is the word karov, close. In general, we should do what we can to live in a spiritually conducive environment. But when disturbance comes along, we need to know how to be karov – how to come close, meaning be present – with whatever has arisen. In the state of Presence, the disturbance merely comes and goes, we deal with whatever we need to deal with, and we strengthen our connection with inner spaciousness and peace through the practice. Some of the masters of the past were particularly good at this. There’s a story that Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev was visiting Rabbi Shmelke of Nikolsburg. They had both been students of the great Maggid of Mezritch, but Rabbi Shmelke was older, and Levi Yitzhak considered him to be his teacher as well. On the first morning, Levi Yitzhak came down from the guest room with his tefillin and tallis on, ready to go to daven, when he stopped in the kitchen and starting conversing with the cooks. (Rabbi Shmelke was apparently quite well off and had his own cooks.) He asked them what they were making, and questioned them about their methods as if he were concerned that food wouldn’t be good enough. When some disciples came by on their way to shul and overheard all this, they frowned in disapproval. At the synagogue, Levi Yitzhak didn’t pray, but spent all his time talking loudly in the back of the sanctuary to a man who was considered to be annoying and unlearned. Eventually, one of the hasidim couldn’t take it anymore. “You must be quiet in here!” Levi Yitzhak simply went on talking loudly and disturbing everyone. Later, when all the hasidim gathered for lunch, Rabbi Shmelke treated Levi Yitzhak with the utmost honors, giving him food to eat from his own bowl. Later, the hasidim asked their rebbe about this strange man who talked so obnoxiously about such mundane things. Why did the rebbe honor him so? Rabbi Shmelke replied, “In the Talmud, the rabbi known as Rab (Abba Areka) is praised for never engaging in worldly speech. How could it be that this is what he was praised for? Does this mean that the other rabbis did engage in worldly speech? Rather, it means that when he engaged in worldly speech, he did so with such kavanah that Divine blessings flowed into this world with every word. Other rabbis could accomplish this for a short time, but eventually their worldly speech would drag them down. “It’s the same with Levi Yitzhak and myself. What I can do for a short time, he can do all day long; with his seemingly mundane conversations, he is bringing heaven down to earth.” Generally speaking, it is better not to blabber on loudly in synagogue; that is obviously the right and good way to behave. But we also need to know how to leave the box of the obvious good in order to access the hidden good. The word for spiritual impurity, tamei, hints at this hidden good. Tamei begins with the letter tet, which also begins the word tov, “good.” The letter tet is shaped in such a way that it points into itself: ט – thus symbolizing the “good” that is hidden within. We access this hidden goodness within things we ordinarily think are not good by becoming karov, bringing our awareness into close connection with whatever messiness we are dealing with: Don’t become tamei, except for with close relatives… This is our paradoxical task: to guard ourselves against things that drag us down spiritually, but also to transform those things into vehicles for the spirit. How do you know when to take which approach? The key is Presence; life itself conveys to us which path to take if we are listening…
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The Passenger – Parshat Emor
5/14/2019 0 Comments Just before the plane was about to shut its doors and prepare for takeoff, a frazzled woman boarded my flight back to Tucson from the Bay. She made her way past the many occupied seats and indicated she wanted to sit next to me, so I stood up to let her in. As she proceeded to squeeze herself and her three big bulky bags into the seat, I told her I would be happy to put some of her stuff in the overhead bin. She said no thanks, she preferred to hold them all. She then proceeded to furiously text on her phone. Soon, a flight attendant came by and told her she had to put her bags either all the way under the seat in front of her, or put them up in the overhead bin. The woman said, “No, I prefer to keep them here.” “I’m sorry,” said the flight attendant, “it’s for your safety.” “Well my cousin is a pilot and I know this is safe, so I’m just going to keep them here, thank you!” she responded angrily, not looking up from her ferocious texting. “I’m sorry ma’am, it’s the rules. I’m just doing my job.” “Well if you want to put them up, go ahead. I’m not moving.” The flight attendant politely asked me to turn my legs to the side as she pulled up my armrest, reached in, pulled out her bags and put them up in the overhead. I was very impressed with that flight attendant. Not only did she remain polite, but I think she was genuinely not angry at all; just a little amused. When we landed in Tucson, the woman said to me that she wasn’t paying attention when the flight attendent put her bags up, and asked if I knew where they were. I said that I didn’t. She said, “I should make that lady get them down for me.” Then, a nice woman in front of us reached up and retrieved the bags for her. I thought that was interesting… just moments before, I was wondering if I should look for her bags and get them down for her or not. On one hand, I thought I shouldn’t, because she would take that as a validation of her absurd behavior, and she would see me as being “on her side.” On the other hand, I know that indiscriminate gemilut hasadim – acts of kindness – can be transformative, and might spontaneously increase her self awareness. But the decision was no longer mine to make, as the kind woman in front of us reached up and pulled down the bags for her. We’ve all probably witnessed extreme unconsciousness in others from time to time, and it can be baffling. How can a person be so clueless? And yet, each at our own level, the powers of unconscious reactivity can take temporarily take hold of us if we’re not careful to regularly “replenish our awareness,” in a sense. When the woman had first sat down next to me, before the bag incident, she had muttered, “What f%&ed up day.” She also smelled somewhat of alcohol. It’s true – a few things going wrong can greatly diminish our self- awareness, and we might even seek solace in alcohol or something else that diminishes awareness even more. We are prone to spiral, one negative thing leading to another. Here in Arizona, there are many swimming pools, and anyone who takes care of a pool knows that you have to regularly put more water into it, because the water evaporates over time, especially when it’s hot. That’s what happens to our awareness, especially when our experience “heats up” with emotion-triggering mishaps. But even without anything overtly disturbing, our consciousness tends to sink down unless we are deliberate in “refilling our pool” so to speak. That, of course, is the whole point of meditation and prayer – to “fill up” with consciousness and awaken our spiritual potential. But sometimes, having a daily practice is not enough, because if our consciousness has sunk to a low enough level, our practice will be from that low level, and then we will only be mechanically going through the motions. In those cases, we have to somehow wake ourselves up first to even begin. There’s a hint of this in the parshah: דַּבֵּ֨ר אֶֽל־אַהֲרֹ֜ן וְאֶל־בָּנָ֗יו וְיִנָּֽזְרוּ֙ מִקָּדְשֵׁ֣י בְנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל וְלֹ֥א יְחַלְּל֖וּ אֶת־שֵׁ֣ם קָדְשִׁ֑י אֲשֶׁ֨ר הֵ֧ם מַקְדִּשִׁ֛ים לִ֖י אֲנִ֥י יְהוָֽה Tell Aaron and his sons that they should withdraw from the sacred offerings that the children of Israel sanctify to Me and not desecrate My Holy Name – I am Hashem. The word for “withdraw” – vayinazru – comes from a root which means to “abstain” or “renounce” on one hand, but also to “sanctify” or “consecrate,” on the other. (An example of this is the Nazir who both renounces wine and also becomes consecrated to the Divine.) The traditional understanding of this verse is that it speaks of priests who become ritually impure – tamei – and so must excuse themselves from dealing with the offerings that people bring, until they become pure – tahor – again. The word for “desecrate” – y’khal’lu – comes from the root which means “to empty.” The shem kodshi – the “My Holy Name” is the four-letter name which the kabbalists associate with the human body, based on the notion that we are b’tzelem Elohim – the “image of the Divine.” Thus, to “desecrate the Holy Name” means to “empty” our Presence from our bodies, and become disconnected from the wisdom and benevolence that arises from that body-Presence. When that happens, when we sink to such a low level of awareness. disconnected from our bodies and the present moment, holy prayers and Divine Names become temporarily useless; the “Name” becomes “empty,” and formal prayer and meditation are not enough to pull ourselves up. רַבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן אוֹמֵר, הֱוֵי זָהִיר בִּקְרִיאַת שְׁמַע וּבַתְּפִלָּה. וּכְשֶׁאַתָּה מִתְפַּלֵּל, אַל תַּעַשׂ תְּפִלָּתְךָ קֶבַע, אֶלָּא רַחֲמִים וְתַחֲנוּנִים לִפְנֵי הַמָּקוֹם Rabbi Shimon said, “Be meticulous in the chanting of the Sh’ma and in prayer. And when you pray, don’t make your prayer rigid and fixed; rather, compassion and supplication before The Place…” Rabbi Shimon gives advice for this. On one hand, he acknowledges the importance of having a regular, formal practice: Be meticulous in the chanting of the Sh’ma and in prayer. On the other hand, if all you have is a formal practice, that won’t work: Don’t make your prayer rigid and fixed; rather, compassion and supplication before The Place… In other words, when we have sunk to a low level, we can’t mechanically elevate ourselves; we need humility. We need to acknowledge how low we’ve sunk, and acknowledge that we may have acted from that low level. We have to admit: I’ve been that rude woman on the airplane, but I want to be the flight attendant – I want to “attend” to the elevation of myself and others. Oh Ribono Shel Olam, help me out of this low place. Help me fulfill potential and my purpose! That’s the rakhamim v’takhanunim – “compassion and supplication before HaMakom.” It’s interesting that the Divine is here called HaMakom – The Place, hinting that the point is not theology, it’s how you affect those with whom you share space. The point is not what you believe about God, it’s about keeping your inner space Godly; it’s about openness and humility. You are the “priest” of your own inner space. Sometimes your space becomes contaminated, so then it’s time to call out to the Divine, even call out to your own “inner priest” – as the parshah says: אֱמֹ֥ר אֶל־הַכֹּהֲנִ֖ים – Speak to the priests! The person who can reach this openness and humility, the person who accepts what happens and finds peace within their own being, and who also takes responsibility for what they’ve done and for acting to fulfill their reason for being – that person truly serves God, even if they say they are an atheist. On the other hand, the person who complains about what happens, who harbors grudges and anger, who judges others while refusing to take responsibility for what only they can and must do – that person is the true atheist, even as they profess to “believe.” Beliefs about “God” are not the same as actual God. People have believed in various gods for a long time; we seem to have an innate capacity for bowing to something greater than ourselves. Much, if not all extraordinary human achievements and crimes come from that capacity, whether it’s bowing to the God of the Bible or the cause of science; whether it’s Democracy or Nazism. Bowing to something greater is empowering, but it’s not necessarily good. That’s the essence of the Jewish prohibition against idolatry – don’t bow to some parasitic ideology, something that is not good. Rather, the inner message of Judaism is: Hashem Hu HaElohim. Meaning: Existence, Being, Reality, That is the true Divinity. In other words, take your innate devotionality and aim it at Reality Itself. Reality always Is what it Is, it always Will Be what it Will Be, and yet you can and must bring forth what Could Be – Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh. Bow to That – don’t resist what is, find the peace within your own being that is the blissful openness of that acceptance. At the same time, acknowledge – you are here, aren’t you? Take it seriously. There are things only you can bring into being, and there is something only you can do. Do it. All those religious beliefs about God are secondary. They change over time, because at any moment they are either helpful or not. And sometimes they even interfere. But within your own being is the potential: וְלֹ֥א יְחַלְּל֖וּ אֶת־שֵׁ֣ם קָדְשִׁ֑י – Don’t empty the Holy Name – Rather, cry out to HaMakom, the transcendent field of Beingness that is not separate from your own awareness, and bring forth your sacred destiny… What Do You Say? Parshat Emor 5/3/2018 0 Comments Once, when Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev had finished leading the davening, he went out into the congregation and greeted everyone: "Shalom aleikhem! Shalom aleikhem!" – as if he they had just arrived after a journey. "Rabbi, why do you greet us as if we just got here? We've been praying with you all morning!" "Have you?" replied the rebbe, "but in your mind, you were just in the marketplace, you were just wondering what's for lunch, you were just arguing with someone, and when the prayers ended, you all returned, so I greeted you!" The essence of spiritual work is Presence, and the goal of Presence is freedom. Freedom means: no resistance to whatever happens to arise within your experience. It means: no resentment, no blame, no persisting anger – no resistance at all! One of the biggest obstacles in our quest for freedom can be the way we talk to ourselves. How do you narrate your experience? How are you framing this moment right now? The way we speak to ourselves has the power to either lead us to more inner clutter, or lead us into the spaciousness of the Present; the power is in our mouths, so to "speak"... There's a hint in this week's reading, Parshat Emor: אֱמֹ֥ר אֶל־הַכֹּֽהֲנִ֖ים בְּנֵ֣י אַֽהֲרֹ֑ן וְאָֽמַרְתָּ֣ אֲלֵהֶ֔ם לְנֶ֥פֶשׁ לֹֽא־יִטַּמָּ֖א בְּעַמָּֽיו Speak – Emor – to the priests, the children of Aaron, and say to them, "don't become polluted for a person among your people..." If you wish to keep yourself open, spacious, uncluttered, then "speak to the priests" – that is, know that you are literally a "priest" – you're not merely a separate entity navigating through life, you are a connecting point between heaven and earth – between the vast space of consciousness, and everything that you perceive – thoughts, feelings, sense perceptions – the whole world around and within. Speak to yourself, remind yourself in this way: "Here is this feeling, here is this thought..." And even more, transform it into a prayer: "O Hashem, help me to know myself as the vast space of awareness, help me to accept everything that arises and live in simplicity, with love, serving Your highest potential and uplifting the world..." Good Shabbos! love and all blessing, reb brian yosef "Say"- Parshat Emor 5/12/2017 "Mo’adei Hashem asher tikr’u otam mikra’ei kodesh, eleh hem mo’adai- "Special Divine times you are to define as holy gatherings- these are My festivals." (Inspired by a teaching from Rabbi Menachem Mendel Shneerson- The Rebbe) The Torah reading Parshat Emor emphasizes the mitzvot of making sacred times- in this case, of setting aside special days in which you put aside all your time-bound agendas so that you can more deeply connect with Eternal dimension of Being. It says, "Mo’adei Hashem asher tikr’u otam mikra’ei kodesh, eleh hem mo’adai- Special Divine times you are to define as holy gatherings- these are My festivals." It then goes on to talk about the various festivals, beginning with Shabbat: "Uvayom hash’vi’i Shabbat Shabbaton- and on the seventh day shall be a Sabbath of Sabbaths." Why does it call Shabbat a Sabbath of Sabbaths? Because ultimately, the purpose of Shabbat- the purpose of the festivals, as well as any other times you set aside for spiritual practice- is not merely to have a special holy experience during those times alone. Rather, the purpose is to immerse in the Eternal dimension of Being so that you can continue to practice Presence even as you operate in the mundane world of time. In that way, all times become like a Sabbath, and the actual Sabbath is then a Sabbath of Sabbaths. Because as we all know, there are many forces of distraction on many levels that block the sense of life being a Sabbath. But when you regularly put those distractions aside in order to do your spiritual practice, you give yourself that space you need and allow the Eternal dimension of Being to blossom more and more into all your life. So what does it mean to put aside the things of ordinary time? As it says, "...mikra kodesh- a sacred time- kol melakha lo ta’asu- all melakha, that is all work, don’t do." Meaning, anything that has goals in time such as earning a livelihood, traveling, planning, working on projects- all those things that define your life in time, as opposed to your actual life- that sense of simply Being, as you are, right now, don’t do that stuff. Make sure you have some special times that are sacred. So on this Shabbat Emor, the Sabbath of saying, may we say out loud to ourselves our commitment to set aside time to go beyond time, whether in the traditional practices of Shabbat and the mo’adim, the Sabbath and festivals, or even for just a few seconds throughout the day to stop, breath and be present, perhaps even putting away phones and computers. May the whole world be nourished by our commitment to practice, that we might be greater channels of love and healing in the world. Good Shabbos! The Zombies- Parshat Emor 5/19/2016 2 Comments Once I saw my son looking at You Tube, ravenously drinking in the old 1980’s Michael Jackson Thrillervideo. Oh man, that brought me back! The way Michael morphs into some kind of wer-cat and then leads a band of zombies in that funky dance of the dead- And then the really scary part- his girlfriend cowering in the corner of her house while zombies crash through windows, breaking through the walls and floor- it’s the classic zombie scene that both draws and repels. Why is the “zombies-invading-the-house” thing so compelling? To me, the home is a sanctuary- a place to be safe, to relax, to sip a cup of tea on the couch- wouldn’t you agree? And let’s face it- nothing messes with our nice, safe, home-sanctuary like a bunch of zombies clawing at your window! But there is also an inner sanctuary- a place of peace and stillness, a place of vitality, of creativity, of light and benevolence. That place is your own deepest layer of being- the space of awareness itself. When you dwell in that space, you dwell in the temple of your own being, which is also Divine Being. That space is always here, always open and sacred- the space of consciousness that is eternally this moment. But, there are zombies!! Sometimes there are only a few pathetic zombies, wandering around on your lawn. Sometimes they are fast, tricky and vicious, fooling and distracting you into letting them in. Sometimes, they are disguised as something you lust for- they are seductive- more like vampires- making your eyes glaze over as you lurch unconsciously toward the door and turn the knob... These zombies and vampires are your own thoughts. There was once a hassid who went to his rebbe for advice on how to empty his mind. He knocked on the door of his rebbe’s house, but no answer. He peered through the window- the rebbe was sitting at a table, reading. The hassid knocked again, a little louder- no answer. Growing more and more frustrated, his polite greetings and knocks turned into screams and bangs, pounding on the doors and windows. This went on for hours! Eventually, the rebbe opened the door- “Just as I can ignore you, no matter now much fuss you make, so you can ignore your own thoughts and not admit them into your mind.” It’s true, your zombie/vampiric thoughts can trick you, distract you, lure you, entice you. But unless you believe in them, they have absolutely no power. It is your own mind that is creating them; if you let them be and don’t get drawn in, they fade away. The power is completely with you. This can be learned and practiced, but it is not merely a technique. It is a way of being that reveals your own inner freedom, your own inner divinity. Free from thought, you dwell in the sanctuary of presence- a space of freedom, of blissful goodness within your own being. This is the space of kadosh- holiness, or sacredness. Kadosh means “separate”, because in it you are separate from the tornados of life. However, it’s not a separateness of alienation, but of the closest intimacy- not far off at a distance from the storm, but at the eye of the storm. Get seduced by the storm- get absorbed into the drama of time and people, get dragged around and eaten by those flesh-rotten zombies, and you become tamei- spiritually contaminated. Let go of the drama, let the thoughts dissolve and you return to the Presence- to the Kadosh. This is your role, if you choose to accept it, as priest or priestess of your own inner sanctuary. On that subject, this week’s reading begins with Moses telling the priests, “L’nefesh lo yitama b’amav- "You shall not become tamei (spiritually contaminated) to a person among your people.” In its plain meaning, it’s talking about a priest not becoming tamei from touching a corpse (a regular corps, not the undead!). But metaphorically, it also can refer to the inner tuma we can incur from allowing our thoughts about others to contaminate our minds. When was the last time you allowed your mind to become tamei because of what some person did or said that you didn’t like, some argument you had, or anything else involving another person? It’s one of the great traps. And yet, the power is with YOU! Remember- the tzures (suffering) you experience is mostly generated by your own mind. You can stop empowering it NOW and come into the sanctuary. And yet, the next verse qualifies the first- “Ki im lish’eiru hakarov- "EXCEPT for a close relative…” Here we move from the metaphorical to the actual- from people as thoughts in your mind, to actual living and breathing people. There are people who are our “close relatives”- not necessarily blood, but those in our tribe, in our community, in our web of interdependence. For them we must become tamei at times, meaning that the relationship sometimes requires the sacrifice of our own needs in order to serve. Sometimes that sacrifice takes a few minutes, as with a screaming child, and sometimes it can go on for years, as in someone who needs on-going care. Sometimes we must sacrifice the plush-ness of kadosh for love, for the love that binds us together. But then there are those who are not “close relatives”, who seek to insert themselves into your life for whatever reason. They have their dramas, their pathologies, their fixations, and they are truly zombies and vampires, seeking to drag you down to their level. As all famous people learn, you can’t let every person into your life who tries to get in. It’s impossible. But, this truth is not just for famous people. The rhythm of reality dictates we work with both sides of the Tree of Life- the Hesed and the Gevurah- the loving-kindness and the setting of boundaries and limits. And life/Hashem will test you on this- you must learn both sides of the Tree! Of course, there is also gray area- folks who lie somewhere in between close and not-so-close. Then what do you do? Make a decision, and don’t worry. Each moment is new. The enemy is not the not-knowing, it is the not-deciding. On this Shabbat Emor, The Sabbath of Saying, may we speak our intentions with decisiveness, balancing openness with boundaries. And, once our decisions are made, may our minds let go and drink in the Divine Words that are being said in this moment, as this moment. |
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