Integral Kabbalah for the Days of Awe
Class #3: Binah – The Palace “Akhat Sha'alti – Only One Thing”
Friends – as we count down to this year's High Holy Days with Torah of Awakening and Urban Adamah, we are planning an audio component to capture the music and feel of how we normally gather.
Check out this rough mix of the Akhat Sha'alti, melody by Krishna Das, and Kaveh, melody by me, sung by Jeannette Ferber, Kohenet Yael Schonzeit, myself and all of BRIAH, featuring Gary Lapow on slide guitar, Josh Miele on bass, Yari Mander and Craig Miller on drums and percussion, my son Eidan on guitar and Peter Allan on clarinet:
Once there was a rabbi who wanted to start a yeshivah – an institution for Jewish learning. After many years of planning and raising funds, his vision was finally realized – the new Torah school was built in a beautiful area out in the country, on the bank of a river. Many young people came to live and to learn, and the rabbi was gratified to see his goal and passion manifested.
On days with good weather, he would often go outside with the students to the river’s edge to daven Minkhah – to pray the afternoon prayer. One day, while they were all outside praying, he noticed that the building across the river (which seemed to have been abandoned) was being renovated and readied for something. Day after day he watched as workers came to refurbish the old building, and he could see that there seemed to be a woman in charge of the enterprise because she was there every day, busily involved with whatever was going on. Eventually the building seemed to open for business, because he saw men coming and going at all hours of the day and night. He wondered, what could be going on over there? Then he found out – the new business was a brothel, and the women he had seen was the head of the brothel. He was so upset – his Torah school was right across from a brothel! How terrible! He feared that his boys would be tempted into going over there; he was angry that his life’s work was being contaminated with such sinfulness and he was filled with scorn for the woman who was responsible. Nevertheless, he refused to change his practice of bringing the students out to daven by the river. It was Spring, and the weather had just become warm and beautiful. One time, while they were all praying, he noticed that the woman had also come outside. He glared at her across the river, and he saw her looking back at him. He was filled with rage and cursed her in his heart. This became a pattern – every day during those pleasant months, the rabbi and the students would go outside to daven, and every day he would see the women. He would try to ignore her, but he was driven by his irritation to look at her, and every time he did, he saw her looking back at him. Soon after, it happened that the rabbi had a heart attack and died. When he came to Olam HaBa, the “World to Come,” he was told that he would not be able to enter right away, but would have to spend some time in Gehinnom (Jewish Hell) first to cleanse himself from the spiritual impurities caused by all his anger and cursing of the brothel owner. So, he willingly descended into Gehinnom. After what felt like an eternity of torment, he was finally cleansed enough to be allowed into the World to Come. He was ushered into Paradise – a beautiful, peaceful place of lush gardens, in which the Divine Presence was palpably felt – and led to a small, modest dwelling, which was to be his heavenly home. It wasn’t much, but he accepted it with gratitude. As he approached his dwelling, he looked around and noticed that there was an immense palace next door. “Wow” he thought, “That must be the abode of some great tzaddik (saint).” “Actually,” said his angelic escort, “That’s the house of the brothel owner across the river; she happened to die the same day you did.” “What?” shouted the rabbi, “There must be some mistake! I mean, I realize I wasn’t perfect, I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at her, but still – I was studying Torah all day, and she was running a brothel!” “Actually,” said the angel, “She studied much more Torah than you did.” “Really? How could that be?” “All those days that you stared at her from across the river, you seethed with anger thinking, ‘What a horrible person she is! Look what a terrible sin she has done, building that brothel and seducing people into sin!’ “But as she stared back at you, she was thinking, ‘What a sweet holy soul that is! Look at what a great mitzvah he has done, starting that yeshivah and nourishing so many with a Torah education!’ Over time, her holy thoughts of blessing toward you infiltrated the rest of her life, until she was almost constantly blessing you in her heart. Whereas in your case, your destructive thoughts of anger and cursing infiltrated the rest of your life, so even when you were studying Torah externally, internally you were filled with scorn…” There is a beautiful Mishna that expresses the essence of this story: רַבִּי חֲנִינָא בֶן תְּרַדְיוֹן אוֹמֵר, שְׁנַיִם שֶׁיּוֹשְׁבִין וְאֵין בֵּינֵיהֶן דִּבְרֵי תוֹרָה, הֲרֵי זֶה מוֹשַׁב לֵצִים, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר (תהלים א) וּבְמוֹשַׁב לֵצִים לֹא יָשָׁב : אֲבָל שְׁנַיִם שֶׁיּוֹשְׁבִין וְיֵשׁ בֵּינֵיהֶם דִּבְרֵי תוֹרָה, שְׁכִינָה שְׁרוּיָה בֵינֵיהֶם R. Hananiah ben Tradion said: If two sit together and there are no words of Torah between them, then this is a session of scorners, as it is said: “And in the seat of the scornful he does not sit…” (Psalms 1:1); But, if two sit together and there are words of Torah between them, then the Shekhinah abides among them… - Pirkei Avot 3:3 At first, this mishna might seem extreme; is it saying that if two people are talking and they don’t discuss Torah, then they are “scorners?” But if we look at it from the opposite direction, it is actually telling us what “Torah” really is. If “scorn” is the opposite of Torah, then the opposite of “scorn” is Torah! In other words, when we speak from a sense of appreciation, love, and blessing – we speak words of Torah. Furthermore, the words we speak form the structure of perception through which we see things; just as the thoughts of the characters in the story formed the abodes for their souls in the afterlife, so too we construct our perception, our inner “dwelling” through our thoughts and words. This is why Binah, the third sefirah of the Tree of Life which represents the activity of thinking, is sometimes referred to as the “Palace.” But, if our thoughts have such power, why are we so careless with them? In the story, the rabbi is a scholar of Torah – how could he make such a mistake? We seem to make the mistake of wrong thinking because we’re not aware of our choice. We get taken over by an impulse and our minds start running; we get swept away by our thoughts. If we want to gain sovereignty over our own minds, then our thinking needs to be balanced by not thinking; thought needs to be balanced by space, Binah needs to be balanced by Hokhmah. (Hokhmah is the second sefirah which represents the field of awareness behind our thoughts.) There is a hint in the parshah, which seems to me to be the first place ever that Hokhmah and Binah are mentioned: …רְאֵ֣ה לִמַּ֣דְתִּי אֶתְכֶ֗ם חֻקִּים֙ וּמִשְׁפָּטִ֔ים See, I have taught you ethical rules and spiritual practices… וּשְׁמַרְתֶּם֮ וַעֲשִׂיתֶם֒ כִּ֣י הִ֤וא חָכְמַתְכֶם֙ וּבִ֣ינַתְכֶ֔ם לְעֵינֵ֖י הָעַמִּ֑ים אֲשֶׁ֣ר יִשְׁמְע֗וּן אֵ֚ת כָּל־הַחֻקִּ֣ים הָאֵ֔לֶּה וְאָמְר֗וּ רַ֚ק עַם־חָכָ֣ם וְנָב֔וֹן הַגּ֥וֹי הַגָּד֖וֹל הַזֶּֽה׃ Guard them and do them, for She is your Wisdom (Hokhmatkhem) and Understanding (Binatkhem) in the eyes of the peoples that will hear all of these practices and say, “Surely this great nation is a people of Wisdom (Hokham) and Understanding (N’Vonam).” - Deuteronomy 4:4-6 These passages begin with a description of the Teaching (“She” – Torah) as hukim and mishpatim. Mishpatim refers to universal ethical laws such as “don’t steal,” “don’t slander” and the like; they are laws that anyone might arrive at through contemplation of right and wrong. Hukim literally means “decrees” and has come to mean the particularistic ritual laws of the tradition, practices that may seem strange and arbitrary from the outside, such as kashrut and Shabbat, but have an inner transformational wisdom to them that you can experience only through practicing them. That’s why I translated hukim as “spiritual practices.” These two elements – ethical behavior and spiritual practices – form the foundation of the spiritual path; neither can replace the other, because it is through spiritual practice that we sensitize ourselves to seeing beyond the narrow view of ego. Without widening our view beyond ego, we can’t see right and wrong clearly; we will always see it in terms of our preconceptions and prejudices. Again, this is why Hokhmah and Binah are both so important. Through meditation and prayer (hukim), we transcend the thinking mind so that we can get free from our preconceptions and prejudices and see reality more clearly. From this clear place, we can contemplate (Binah) the right paths we should take with our behaviors (mishpatim). Thus, hukim and mishpatim are the expressions of Hokhmah and Binah. The text then mentions another pair of concepts: שְׁמַרְתֶּם֮ וַעֲשִׂיתֶם֒ – Sh’martem va’asitem – Guard them and do them. In order for the Teaching to become fully integrated into our lives, we need not only try to practice the Teaching, but we must also “guard” Her. “Guarding” means keeping her forward in our minds; it means making Her into our highest value. Again, this is only possible in an authentic way if we balance our thoughts of the Teaching with space from thought, because it is through the space of Presence that we can experience the Oneness of Being in a direct way; thus, the Divine becomes not merely a concept, but a lived Reality. Finally, the text mentions two different modes of perception: לְעֵינֵ֖י הָעַמִּ֑ים אֲשֶׁ֣ר יִשְׁמְע֗וּן – l’einei ha’amim asher yishm’un – in the eyes of the peoples that will hear… “In the eyes” and “will hear” refers to the senses of both “seeing” and “hearing.” Both of these are themselves metaphors. “Seeing” represents direct perception, because when we look around, we have a sense of what is going on instantaneously; we don’t have to think about it. Thus, “seeing” represents Hokhmah, pure awareness. “Hearing,” on the other hand, refers not to hearing sounds, but to hearing words, and so relies on the thinking process – Binah. We need both – we need to see what is plainly in front of us in the present, and we need to use thought to chart a path into the future – Hokhmah and Binah together. When we bring awareness to thinking and consciously alternate between thinking and resting in silence, our thinking becomes alive, vibrant and discerning, as opposed to automatic, mechanical and closed. This is expressed by four different qualities, represented by the four Hebrew letters which connect to Binah in the Integral Kabbalah version of the Eitz Hayim, the Tree of Life: ל Lamed represents an attitude of openness and curiosity, a willingness to approach the moment with the question: “What is the Divine teaching me now?” פ Pei represents the practice of anchoring the mind in sacred words or phrases that point to the Divine, such as happens in prayer, meditation and text study. This is a core practice of Judaism and many other traditions, universal in principle, though the language and texts are unique to the different traditions. ר Reish represents the recognition of the limits of thought, that ultimate questions are not answerable in an ordinary, conceptual way, and that even with things that are answerable, the thinking mind is always merely the map, not the territory. This is essential for staying free of the mind-created ego that thinks it “knows” and insists on being “right.” ד Dalet represents the recognition that thought itself, along with all other elements of experience, appear in awareness on their own; we don’t create our thoughts and we don’t control them. Through this recognition, we can fully receive our present task of responding to whatever thoughts arise through the activation of Hokhmah and Binah, conscious contemplation and spacious meditation, rather than struggle against our thoughts or become too absorbed in them. All of these are dependent on holding “Her” – the Teaching, the Path, the Divine – in the forefront of our minds. This is the aim of all the mitzvot, the hukim and mishpatim – to give us many and numerous moments in time to open to That which is beyond time, the Eternal Present, the One Thing… אַחַ֤ת שָׁאַ֣לְתִּי מֵֽאֵת־יְהוָה֮ אוֹתָ֪הּ אֲבַ֫קֵּ֥שׁ שִׁבְתִּ֣י בְּבֵית־יְ֭הוָה כָּל־יְמֵ֣י חַיַּ֑י לַחֲז֥וֹת בְּנֹֽעַם־יְ֝הוָ֗ה וּלְבַקֵּ֥ר בְּהֵיכָלֽוֹ׃ Akhat she'alti me'eit Hashem Otah avakesh shivti b'veit Hashem Kol yemei hayai lakhazot b'no'am Hashem Ul'vaker b'heikhalo One thing I ask of the Divine, this do I seek – to dwell in the house of the Divine all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Divine, and to meditate in the sanctuary of the Divine. - Psalm 27:4
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More on Va'etkhanan
The Ox in the Field – Parshat Va'etkhanan
8/14/2019 0 Comments A disciple of Rabbi Yitzhak Meir of Ger came to the rebbe with a complaint: “I’ve been trying for twenty years, and still I don’t feel like I’m getting anywhere! If a craftsman practiced their craft for twenty years, they would either be much better at their craft, or at the very least they would be able to do it much more quickly. But with me, I’ve been praying and praying, and I don’t feel any closer than when I began.” “It is taught in Elijah’s name,” replied the rebbe, “that a person should take Torah upon themselves as an ox takes the yoke. You see, the ox leaves its stall in the morning, goes to the field, plows, and his led back home. This happens day after day. Nothing changes with regard to the ox, but the ploughed field bears the harvest.” In the course of our avodah (spiritual practice), there can be times of tremendous transformation, but there can also be times of plateau, times when it seems we are plugging away without much result. At such times, it is good to express any dissatisfaction we may have through prayer, just like Moses pleaded with the Divine: וָאֶתְחַנַּ֖ן אֶל־יְהוָ֑ה בָּעֵ֥ת הַהִ֖וא לֵאמֹֽר׃ I pleaded with the Divine at that time, speaking… Moses is pleading with Hashem to let him enter the “land.” Like the hassid who complained to his rebbe, Moses is saying, “I’ve been leading this people toward the land for forty years – please let me at least enter along with them!” The “land” is a metaphor – in relation to our spiritual path, it represents the fruit of the practice – that sense of coming home into the Oneness, coming home into the present. When we feel the angst of separateness, when we feel like an ox that goes on day after day with the same old routine, don’t hold back – cry out in prayer! Va’etkhanan! But then listen for the Divine response: רַב־לָ֔ךְ אַל־תּ֗וֹסֶף דַּבֵּ֥ר אֵלַ֛י ע֖וֹד בַּדָּבָ֥ר הַזֶּֽה׃ “Too much of you! Do not increase your words to me about this thing!” That separate self-sense, the “me” that thinks and speaks and acts, is the “ox.” The truth is, the ox will always be an ox. At some point, we need to give up on all this “me” – Rav lakh! Too much of you! – and discover the aspect of our being that is silence – Al tosef daber! Do not increase your words! In that silence we can discover the other aspect of our being – the deep, vast, boundless “field.” This is not to deny or devalue the “ox” in any way; we need the ox. We need to organize our lives and set aside time for practice. But just as the ox cannot become the field, just as Moses cannot enter the land but must die outside the land, so too we must let go of this self-ness and recognize the aspect of ourselves that is beyond the ox. The truth is, on the deepest level, we already are the field. עֲלֵ֣ה רֹ֣אשׁ הַפִּסְגָּ֗ה וְשָׂ֥א עֵינֶ֛יךָ “Ascend to the top of the cliff and raise up your eyes…” Moses climbs up the cliff and sees the “land” from afar, and there he dies. Similarly, we can understand the goal with our minds, but that is only a “seeing from afar.” To truly enter the “land,” we must discover what is beyond the ox-self. Alei rosh – elevate the head – recognize that beneath all the content, you are simple awareness, totally transcendent of your thoughts, feelings, and experiences. How do you do that? V’sa einekha – raise up your eyes – “see” whatever is arising in your awareness, right now; be the transcendent space within which this moment unfolds. In this way, prayer leads to silence, and you can make that shift from being the “ox” to being the “field” – the vast field of silent Presence, beneath the thoughts, beneath the words. A rabbi once asked Menachem Mendel of Vorki, “Where did you learn the art of silence?” Menachem Mendel was about to respond, but then he changed his mind and said nothing... A Little Less Salt – Parshat Ve'etkhanan 7/26/2018 0 Comments There's an old episode of All in the Family where Gloria is cooking something in the kitchen. "Ma, can you taste this and let me know if it needs anything?" "Sure Gloria," says Edith. She takes a bite, contemplates the flavor a bit and says, "I think it needs... a little less salt!" Salt is absolutely necessary, but you don't want too much. And just like salt, our thinking is something we can't do without, but most of us have way too much of it. Thinking is so compulsive that we have no idea what life would feel like with less thinking and more Presence. But let your mind relax, and you can realize: the present moment is spacious, beautiful and alive with magic. And though there are certainly disturbing a traumatic things that can and do happen, it's mostly the movement of our minds that creates all our tension, fear, and stress. Of course, we need to think in order to decide, to know how to proceed. But when the thinking has accomplished its goal, then we can let it go and simply be, even as we act. Our beingness can be an offering, an act of love that shines through our actions, once the mind relaxes. As the old parable goes: once you take the boat across the river, you don't have to drag the boat around with you. Let it go. Use the mind to cross the "river" of your next decision, but then let your thoughts go and move into the present. Two rabbis were traveling on foot together, a younger and a senior, and they came to a shallow river. They took off their shoes and began to wade across, when a young woman called to them. "I need help getting across please!" The senior rabbi picked her up and carried her across on his back. When they reached the other side, the woman thanked them and went her way. As the two rabbis walked together in silence for an hour or so, the younger became withdrawn and tense. Finally, the younger one could no longer restrain himself: "How could you have done that! The halakhah clearly forbids touching a young woman, let alone putting her on your back!" "Look at you," replied the senior. "I only carried her across the river, but you are still carrying her!" In this week's reading, Moses speaks to the Israelites as they too are about to cross a river: "Va'etkhanan el Hashem – I implored the Divine... please let me cross this river Jordan and see the good land!" But Moses was not allowed to cross; he had to die before the Israelites that he had led for forty years could cross over without him. Have you ever worked hard for something you really wanted, but once you achieved it, you didn't feel the sense of achievement you thought you would because YOU were not the same person anymore? The mind thinks, figures out, navigates, decides. If you want to cross over into the promised land, if you want the inner freedom that is your nature and birthright, you must decide; you must commit to it. You need your mind for that. But to truly achieve the Goal, you have to then let "Moses" die, so to speak, and discover the deeper "You" beneath your thoughts. No More "Rather-ing"! Parshat Va'etkhanan 8/7/2017 6 Comments “Va’etkhanan el Hashem ba’eit hahi- I implored Hashem at that time…” This parsha opens with Moses imploring God to enter the Promised Land, ba’eit hahi – At that other time, I implored – at that time, and not at this time. I just got back yesterday from a two-week trip with my family to Italy. I am blessed to have such amazing parents-in-laws who, ba’eit hazeh, at this time, can choose however they want to spend their time, and they chose to take our whole mishpakha on vacation with them for their fiftieth anniversary. At one point in Rome, we had split up into two different cabs, and I was in a cab alone with Lisa’s father, who we call Poppi Normy. Poppi said to me ba’eit hahi, at that time, “So, Brian – are you enjoying yourself or would you rather be at some ashram in India?” I replied, “Well, I don’t really put energy into rather-ing things.” He was silent for a moment, and then said, “I get that. That’s good. I’m going to eliminate ‘rather’ from my vocabulary.” And then I said, “I’ll use this story in my next drash.” So, what does it mean to not “rather” something? It doesn’t mean that you can’t make good judgements. It doesn’t mean that you don’t take yourself out of an undesirable situation, or that you don’t help to make things better for yourself or others, it just means that whatever your experience is, in whatever situation you find yourself in, you don’t put mental and emotional energy into wishing things were different. You first of all accept the moment as it is, and then do whatever you do from this place of openness and surrender. If you’re familiar with Musar, the Jewish practice of cultivating character traits, you might recognize “not-rather-ing” as Equanimity, known as menukhat hanefesh or shivyon nefesh, but it’s important to understand that this is not merely a character trait; it’s not something that you add on to your personality, but rather it’s a quality of Presence – a quality inherent within your field of awareness that is underneath your personality, underneath your thoughts, underneath your feelings. And while your thoughts and feelings are always flowing and changing, awareness is the background against which your thoughts and feelings are happening. So, when you shift from feeling that “I am this personality, I am these thoughts and feelings,” into knowing yourself as the field of Presence within which your thoughts and feelings are happening, then Equanimity is very natural, because awareness itself is never preferring one thing over another thing; it’s simply open to whatever there is to perceive in the present moment – that’s why it’s called “Presence.” So when Moshe says, “Va’etkhanan el Hashem ba’eit hahi- I implored Hashem at that time,” it’s saying, “I implored that I should be at some other time, at a time other than this moment. I don’t want to be here, I want to get to the Promised Land. But God says, no – “Alei rosh hapisgah- ascend to the top of the cliff- v’sa einekha- and raise up your eyes…” Now the expression for “ascend to the top of the cliff” begins, “Alei rosh,” which literally means, “Raise up the head.” Meaning, get out of your head. Don’t be so identified with your own opinions, with your emotional reactions and so on. How do you do that? “v’sa einekha- and raise up your eyes,” meaning, instead of putting energy into judging, into “rather-ing,” simply see what’s happening in this moment. Be the witnessing Presence within which your present experience is unfolding. On this Shabbat Va’etkhanan, the Sabbath of Imploring, may our prayer lead us to deeper connection with Hashem Who is constantly incarnating as the fullness of this moment,ba’eit hazeh – in this moment! Good Shabbos! The Acceptance of Rejection- Parshat Va'etkhanan 8/17/2016 4 Comments When I was in the fifth grade I went to a summer camp called, “Le Camp.” It was a day camp, so every day I was schlepped back and forth by my parents- except for one day. Once per summer, we had a sleepover. The sleepover evening would begin with a dance in the barn. Later, we slept in our sleeping bags out in a huge field. I was at the age when girls were first becoming interesting. During the dance part, there was a girl I was dancing with for most of the night. I guess I got it in my head that this girl liked me, and during the sleeping-bags-in-the-field part, I kept trying to sneak out of the “boys area” and into the “girls area” so I could go see her. At some point a counselor caught me. “Brian, stop bothering the girls!” “No you don’t understand,” I pleaded (etkhanan), “they want me to be here!” after which that girl and several of her friends cried out, “NO WE DON’T!” Rejection! Sometimes we think we are wanted, but we are not. That’s just the truth. The person who thinks he’s wanted despite all protestations is an egomaniac. Kids can be like egomaniacs sometimes, and at some point, the delusion is toppled: “No, you really are annoying the hell out of me and I want you to STOP!” But these kinds of hurtful childhood experiences can also create another kind of misperception into adulthood: it can create a self-image that you have nothing to offer, that people don’t need or want you. Recently I was in a situation where I wanted to help someone, but I wasn’t being asked for help. In my post “LeCamp” psychology, I didn’t offer anything, because I thought that if my help was wanted, I would be asked. As time went on, however, I could see that I would never be asked- not because my help wasn’t wanted, but because the person wasn’t comfortable asking. So, I gathered my will against my personality, offered my help directly, and it was promptly accepted! So easy. In this week’s reading, Moses tells the Israelites about how he pleaded (etkhanan) with God to let him enter the Promised Land. Moses says: “Va’etkhanan el Hashem baeit hahi leimor- "I pleaded with God at that time, saying… please let me cross and see the good land on the other side of the Jordan!” But God doesn’t let him. Moses, the beloved prophet who “knows God face to face” is rejected. But does Moses develop a bad self-image and stop doing his job? Not at all. A few verses later, Moses says: “V’atah Yisrael sh’ma- "And now Israel, listen!” He then goes on teaching them the Torah that he was called upon to transmit. Sometimes our offers are accepted, and sometimes they are rejected. But if you shut down when you are rejected and stop offering, you may miss your real calling. And furthermore, what’s wrong with being rejected anyway? If rejection feels bad, it’s because there is a self-image that is feeding off the desire to be appreciated. That ego, that separate self-sense, is quite natural, but ultimately it is a burden. When the ego is bruised, take that as medicine. Accept the pain- let it burn away the ego’s substance. Ultimately, the pain will be liberating, and in that liberation is real intimacy- intimacy with the plain and radiant present, with the simple bliss of being. After all, when you are pleading for something, it’s because you desire some kind of completion. But when the pain of rejection burns away the very source of incompleteness, then the rejection itself can actually be the fulfillment! There is a story that Reb Beirish of Alisk once went to spend Shabbos with his childhood friend-turned-rebbe, Reb Uri of Strelisk. At the Shabbos table, Reb Uri turned to his hassid: “Rav of Alisk! Could you perhaps honor us with some spontaneous words of Torah, some words that you have not prepared?” Immediately Reb Beirish answered, “It is written, ‘Va’etkhanan el Hashem ba eit hahi leimor- I pleaded with God at that time, saying.’ You see, in order for me to say something spontaneously at that time- meaning at this time, unprepared, I have to plead with God! Reb Beirish had nothing to say except his plea that he should have something to say, and that plea itself became his words of Torah! On this Shabbat V’etkhanan, the Sabbath of Pleading, may you be blessed with the confidence to know that you are needed for something quite unique, something no one else can offer. And, when your offerings are rejected, may you be blessed to bring your awareness deep into the present experience of that rejection, so that any trace of the “Wounded Me” gently dissolves into the spacious calm of the Timeless. Good Shabbos! What Prayer is Answered Instantaneously? 8/16/2016 4 Comments This week’s reading begins: “Va’etkhanan el Hashem- I implored Hashem at that time saying: You have begun to reveal Your Greatness…” The word for “I implored” is ethanan- from the word hein, which means “grace.” To “implore” is to beg for grace. What "grace" is being prayed for? The revelation of God's "Greatness." But this "Greatness" is not something separate from you; it's the revelation of your own being. It is "great" in the sense that it is far more spacious than anything within your experience; it's the space within which all experience arises- the space of awareness itself. In Pirkei Avot 3:18, Rabbi Akiva says: “Haviv Adam shenivra v’tzelm- Beloved are human beings, for they are created in the Divine Image…” The Divine, or Reality, expresses Its Greatness as your own awareness. Rabbi Akiva calls us “beloved” because of this gift- the gift of our Divine Greatness. Then he says, “Hibah yeteirah noda’at lo shenivra v’tzelem- It is indicative of an even greater love that our Divine Image is made known to us…” In other words, though our Divine Greatness is a wonderful gift, it doesn’t do us much good unless it’s made known to us, unless we experience the Infinite directly. To experience your Divine Greatness is the greatest gift, the Supreme Grace, because it’s the revelation of your own being, something that can never be taken away. But your Divine Greatness is not really hidden; it’s just that your awareness is always looking at everything except Itself, so it can be difficult to notice. But if you ask for grace, if you implore God to reveal your Divine Greatness to you, the prayer itself helps you open to the truth of this moment. Then, your prayer is answered- instantaneously. Try it- “Oh Hashem, please reveal to me my own Divine Greatness, the place in me that is free, spacious, that allows everything to be as it is...” Then, notice- this moment is complete- sensation, feeling, thought- all arising in the space of this moment, which is awareness itself, free and open, complete and miraculous, the Divine Greatness...
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Integral Kabbalah for the Days of Awe
Class #2: Hokhmah – Spaciousness “Hashiveinu – Return AGAIN”
Friends – as we count down to this year's High Holy Days with Torah of Awakening and Urban Adamah, we are planning an audio component to capture the music and feel of how we normally gather.
Check out this rough mix of the Hashiveinu by Shlomo Carlbach, sung by Jeannette Ferber, Kohenet Yael Schonzeit, myself and all of BRIAH, featuring Jason Ditzian on clarinet, Josh Miele on bass, Yari Mander and Craig Miller on drums and percussion:
Some disciples of Reb Pinhas of Korets once asked him why, when he prayed, was he not wildly ecstatic in his devotions the way many other Hasidim were. Reb Pinhas replied, “As you know, the point of prayer is to divest oneself from all separateness, to merge with the Divine, and this is a kind of death. Our sages tell us that there are two kinds of death – there is the kind of death that is as hard a rope being pulled through the ring of a mast, and there is the kind of death that is as easy as removing an eyelash from a glass of milk. It is the second kind of death that I have been granted in my prayer.”
The Reality that we call “Divine” is nothing but the “Being-ness” of things; it is the basic “Is-ness,” the Mystery of Existence Itself. As such, we are never and can never be separate from It. But, we generally remain unconscious of this fact, because the “Is-ness” of our own being – that dimension of our experience that is devoid of specific quality yet glowing softly behind all qualities – is consciousness itself, and consciousness tends to be aware of objects rather than its own subject-hood. This is not to say that we are not aware of our “selves” – just the opposite. As we move through the world, we tend to split reality into two parts – “me” and “everything else.” The problem is that we don’t know who “me” really is; we assume we are our thoughts, our feelings, our stories. We feel we are a spirit trapped in our bodies, looking out. We identify with one small aspect of ourselves – the aspect of thoughts and feelings – and call that “me.” But this ordinary “me” is actually just another object among objects, perceived by and living within the vast field of awareness that we are. This field of awareness, formless and borderless, is the true “I” hidden within plane sight, the vast inner “heavens” within which the “earth” of all particular experiences come and go: בְּרֵאשִׁ֖ית בָּרָ֣א אֱלֹהִ֑ים אֵ֥ת הַשָּׁמַ֖יִם וְאֵ֥ת הָאָֽרֶץ׃ In the beginning (Bereisheet), Elohim created the heavens and the earth… (Genesis 1:1) This first pasuk of the Torah hints at this fundamental duality of our experience – the shamayim, the “heavens” of consciousness and the aretz, the “earth” of everything else that is perceived by consciousness. And yet, within this hidden duality there is actually an even more deeply hidden unity, because everything we perceive is literally a form of consciousness. For example, look at your hand. Ordinarily you might think that you are perceiving something that exists separate from the perception, that the hand exists whether you are looking at it or not. And this is most likely true. But, the image of the hand that you perceive is something that lives entirely within your field of awareness. The real hand might be separate, but your perception of the hand is an image that is literally made from the ethereal substance of consciousness itself. On this level of actual experience, the duality of perception and perceived collapses into one – there is only consciousness, taking on different forms and perceiving those different forms. This is hinted at by the Divine Name: בְּרֵאשִׁ֖ית בָּרָ֣א אֱלֹהִ֑ים – Bereisheet Bara Elohim – In the beginning, Gods was creating… Elohim means “gods” – it is a plural word, conjugated in the singular: bara – “was creating.” This fusion of plural and singular is an expression of this basic fact of experience, of the multiplicity of experience all being part of one reality we call consciousness. In Kabbalah, this field of awareness within which thought arises is called Hokhmah, “Wisdom,” and is the second sefirah of the Tree of Life. The connection between hokhmah and our opening pasuk is further expressed in this verse from Psalms: רֵאשִׁית חָכְמָה יִרְאַת יְהֹוָה, שֵֽׂכֶל טוֹב לְכָל עֹשֵׂיהֶם, תְּהִלָּתוֹ עוֹמֶֽדֶת לָעַד: The beginning of wisdom (reisheet hokhmah) is awe of the Divine, good comprehension comes to all who practice this; praise of the Divine endures eternally… (Psalm 111:10) That is, if we wish to recognize hokhmah, the field of awareness that is the reisheet, the “beginning” or root of all experience, we should begin with yirat Hashem – that is, respect and awe for the Mystery of Being that is behind all existence, from which nothing is separate. Why? Because our consciousness is a microcosm of Reality as a Whole: Just as the entire content of our experience is not separate from the consciousness that perceives it all, so too all things are not separate from the “Is-ness” from which and within which everything springs and eventually returns. The Divine is Elohim, encompassing the multiplicity of all things, and is also Yod-Hei-Vav-Hei, the underlying Being-ness of it all. This is why God is also HaMakom – the “Place” within which everything is happening. This realization is both the method and the fruit of meditation. There is a hint in the parshah: אֵ֣לֶּה הַדְּבָרִ֗ים אֲשֶׁ֨ר דִּבֶּ֤ר מֹשֶׁה֙ These are the words that Moses spoke… (Deuteronomy 1:2) “These” is eleh, and “words” is devarim, which also means “things.” When we place together the last part of devarim (im) with eleh, we get Elohim, the Divine Unity that expresses Itself in all multiplicity. All words (devarim) arise first as thoughts within the field of consciousness, just as all things (devarim) arise within the open field of Existence. These two fields, the micro and the macro, are represented by “Moses,” which is Mosheh – מֹשֶׁה – mem, shin, hei. Each of these three letters represent a particular quality of consciousness (micro) and Being-ness (macro): מ Mem is mayim, water, effortlessly taking the shape of whatever vessel it enters, just as consciousness takes the shape of whatever is perceived, and Being takes the shape of all things. ש Shin is fire, making light which radiates light infinitely outward and meets whatever it falls upon, just as consciousness perceives whatever it meets without discrimination, and the underlying (Divine) “Presence” of Being give existence to and shines from all things, without discrimination. ה Hei is the “H” sound, the sound of the breath, which is air – the medium within which our lives unfold. The breath is also the medium of words (devarim) as speech, just as thought arises spontaneously in the field of consciousness, and all things arise within the “space” of Reality. There is also a hint in the haftora: שִׁמְע֤וּ שָׁמַ֙יִם֙ וְהַאֲזִ֣ינִי אֶ֔רֶץ כִּ֥י יְהוָ֖ה דִּבֵּ֑ר בָּנִים֙ גִּדַּ֣לְתִּי וְרוֹמַ֔מְתִּי וְהֵ֖ם פָּ֥שְׁעוּ בִֽי׃ Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth, For the Divine has spoken: “Children I have made great and exalted — And they have rebelled against Me! (Isaiah 1:2) Not only do the “heavens” of awareness “hear,” but “earth” as well – because the “earth” of our perceptions are also made from awareness; the realization of this is the bringing together of heaven and earth within our own being, a small but crucial and irreplaceable step in the bringing together of heaven and earth in the world. How do we do this? The key is to return frequently to the Truth of who we really are. It is natural for the momentum and drama of life to pull us away from this Truth, and there is nothing wrong with that. Just as we must stop breathing for a moment to swallow food and water, so too we must temporarily turn away again and again from the Truth of our being to accomplish things in time. The crucial thing, however, is to start breathing again after we swallow – that is, to Return, and to Return frequently. How do we do that? הֲשִׁיבֵֽנוּ יְהֹוָה אֵלֶֽיךָ וְנָשׁוּבָה חַדֵּשׁ יָמֵֽינוּ כְּקֶֽדֶם Hashiveinu Adonai Eilekha V’nashuvah Hadeish Yameinu K’kedem Return us, Hashem, to You, and we will return; renew our days as in the beginning… (Lamentations, Eikha, 5:21) Expressing the desire of the heart to return is itself to return. The traditional practice is to daven three times per day, plus the many small prayers and blessings that are said throughout the day. The point is to frequently leave behind the time and mind-bound separate self-sense, and to “remove the eyelash from the milk” again and again, thereby stitching together the world of time with the Eternal Present, binding words to the wordless, connecting our deeds back to the silent field within which they unfold…
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More on Devarim...
The Lifeguard – Parshat Devarim
8/7/2019 0 Comments I have a memory of being very young, maybe three or four, and my parents (probably mistakenly) took me to some kind of vacation resort. We were by the pool, and I saw someone running. I had heard that running wasn’t allowed, so I went up to the lifeguard in his tall chair and yelled up to him: “Is it true that there’s no running allowed around the pool?” “That’s right,” he said. “Okay,” I answered, and proceeded to dart off past him. In an instant, he tossed his whistle up in the air, caught it in his mouth, and emitted a piercing whistle blast that caught me in my tracks. I froze. “Don’t you run,” he said. I had been thinking about the other person I saw running, and my brain hadn’t applied the rule to myself. How similar it is with remembering not to “run” away with our own thoughts and feelings… It’s relatively easy to see when someone else is trapped by their thoughts and feelings. We see someone being defensive, angry, or complaining, or blaming, and it’s easy to diagnose. But when we become annoyed with that person for getting caught, how easy it is to get caught ourselves; we resist the resistance of others, and can’t see that we ourselves are resisting. While it would certainly be desirable for everyone to wake up from the dream of ego, we can only ever wake up ourselves. Yes, there is a synergy between people; awakening begets more awakening, and unconsciousness begets more unconsciousness. But at the end of the day, the choice to awaken – meaning, the choice to receive and accept this moment as it is – is an essentially individual matter; you can only do it for yourself, right now. So, in the moment that we perceive the ego of someone else and forget to be aware of our own, we must remember: there is only one time to be awake, and that time is always now. This can be difficult because now is constant; we tend to be unconscious of things that are constant, like our breathing, for example. But how can we constantly remember? The key is to use that which is not constant to remind us of the constant, to use time and change to stay awake to the Changeless and the Timeless. וֶהֱוֵי זָהִיר בְּמִצְוָה קַלָּה כְבַחֲמוּרָה Be careful with a light mitzvah as with a grave one… -Pirkei Avot, 2:1 There are lesser and greater mitzvot; obviously, the mitzvah to light a Shabbat candle is not as great as the mitzvah of not murdering someone, for example. And, yet, this mishna is saying we should be just as careful with the lesser ones as with the greater ones. How can this be? If we should be just as careful with the lesser ones as with greater ones, doesn’t that destroy the whole idea that are lesser ones and greater ones? The word for “careful” is zahir, which can also mean “watchful” or “attentive.” Understood this way, it is not saying that it is just as important to observe the lesser mitzvot as the greater ones; it’s saying that no matter what mitzvah you are doing, you should be just as zahir – you should be just as attentive, just as present. And furthermore, it is our awareness of the very fact that not all mitzvot are equal that reminds us: even though the mitzvot are not all equal, we can bring equal presence to them all. And, as different as the various mitzvot are, even more varied are our moments in life; you cannot compare a moment of childbirth or a moment of death to a moment of putting toothpaste on your toothbrush. And yet, the message is: hevei zahir – be present in all moments, great and small. And, use your awareness of the great and small to remind you: the moment to be zahir is always this moment. לֹֽא־תַכִּ֨ירוּ פָנִ֜ים בַּמִּשְׁפָּ֗ט כַּקָּטֹ֤ן כַּגָּדֹל֙ תִּשְׁמָע֔וּן Don’t show favoritism in judgment; like the lesser as the greater, you shall listen. -Deuteronomy 1:17 In this verse from the Parshat Devarim, Moses is telling the Israelites how the judges should behave: they shouldn’t show favoritism, but they should judge fairly, not giving preference to either the poor and powerless or to the great and powerful. But on a metaphorical level, kakaton kagadol – regardless of whether the moment is mundane and insignificant or crucially important, tishma’un – listen! Be fully present. Why? Because in being fully present, you are being what you truly are, beneath and beyond the small, partial self that is constructed of thoughts and feelings, the self that judges lesser and greater, the self that prefers this over that. At the core of your being and beyond the border of all that you perceive, you are presence, vast and unconditionally free. And even more, that presence is truly the One Presence, the One Reality present in all things, awake right now through your own senses, ever creating and perceiving Itself, That from which all arises to Which all will return. When Rabbi Yitzhak Mer of Ger was a boy, someone said to him: “My boy, I will give you a gulden if you can tell me where God lives.” The boy replied, “I will give you two gulden if you can tell me where He doesn’t!” The Waiting Room– Parshat Devarim 7/18/2018 0 Comments A friend once asked me, "I don't understand this stuff about being present. What if the present sucks?" There's a dimension of our experience that is beyond the particular experience we're having– beyond our feelings, thoughts and sensations. That's our consciousness that's aware of the feelings, thoughts and sensations. That consciousness is similar to the empty physical space that allows us to exist physically. We're often not aware of the physical space, but without it, we couldn't be here. Similarly, without the space of awareness, there can be no experience. Being present doesn't just mean to be aware of what's going on in our experience, but more importantly, it means to be aware of the space within which it's happening. As you become aware of the space of awareness, you come to know yourself as this space, rather than as the content of the space– your particular thoughts and feelings. And as you come to know yourself as this space more and more deeply, your thoughts and feelings and sensations begin to resonate with the space, and that creates a feeling-sense of freedom, bliss and joy. But this all requires some trust in the process, because sometimes the experience of the present can be horrible, and you'll want to resist, to run away and hide or fight tooth and nail. But if you treat the present moment as an opportunity to be Presence, then every experience becomes a steppingstone to greater freedom and joy. This is reflected in Pirkei Avot, 4:21: "Rabbi Yaakov says, 'This world is like a waiting room before the World to Come. You should work on yourself in the waiting room, so that you can enter the banquet hall.'" The common understanding of the "World to Come" is that of the afterlife. But the hint here is that there's an eternal dimension of experience that's available now, though you may not yet be aware of it. If you're not yet aware of it, you have to "work on yourself in the waiting room"– meaning, treat your temporal experience as an opportunity to practice being present, and you will come to enter the "banquet hall"– that eternal dimension of experience that is the space of your own awareness. In this week's Torah reading, Parshat Devarim, Moses begins recounting the journey of the Israelites. Much of the actual story is simply skipped over, but then Moses emphasizes the incident with the spies: The spies go to investigate the land. They bring back the report that the land is great, but their are "giants" in the land and they should turn back. Hashem says that because of their cowardice, they will never enter the land, and only their children will enter. Then the Israelites say, "No no! We were just kidding!" They run up the mountain to do battle with the "giants" and are slaughtered. Talk about being out of sync! But what a wonderful metaphor for such a common disfunction– the disfunction of not being in alignment with the reality of the moment. One moment calls us to fight, the next calls us to retreat, If we're not in alignment, if we're spending energy wishing that things are other than they are and responding to how we think things should be rather than how they are, we get in trouble. But if we know ourselves as the space within which our experience is arising, we can easily align with the needs of the moment and act appropriately, fearlessly going to battle when we must, and surrendering when we must, rather than the other way around. There's a story of Rabbi Yitzhak Eisik, who had a condition that caused him extreme pain his whole life. His doctor asked, "How can you take all that pain without grumbling or complaining at all? "You would understand if you knew how I see pain," replied the rebbe. "I regard pain as a scrubbing of the soul, like putting a coin in a strong cleaning solution." "But how can you take that level of pain for so long? You've had it nearly all your life!" "It's not a question of how long. Whatever pain I've had in the past is over; it doesn't hurt anymore. Whatever pain is to come is in the future doesn't yet exist, and so I don't have to bother with that. I only need to be aware of the pain that's happening right now, and that's totally doable!" As we approach Tisha B'Av, the holiday of pain and destruction, may we be cleansed by whatever pain arises, making way for something beautiful and new to emerge from the depths of our souls, healing ourselves and the world... The Great River- Parshat Devarim 8/10/2016 6 Comments Have you ever had the experience of finding yourself in conflict with someone, and then realizing that the same conflict has happened a thousand times before, in different forms? It is as if the conflict is a virus, a replicating pattern. It has no real life of its own; it is just a dead, repetitive, automatic story that lives off your life energy, playing itself out again and again. Once there was a scorpion who was looking for a way to get to the other side of a river. As he searched up and down the banks, he came upon a fox who was about to swim across. “Please let me swim on your back!” implored the scorpion. “No way!” replied the fox, “You’ll sting me!” “Why would I do that?” argued the scorpion, “If I stung you, we would both drown.” After thinking about it, the fox agreed. The scorpion climbed up on his back, and the fox began to swim across. But, when they were about half way across the river, the scorpion stung the fox. As the poison began its work, the fox started to sink. “Why did you do it?” said the fox, “Now we’ll both drown!” “I couldn’t help myself,” said the scorpion, “It’s in my nature.” Is it in your nature to always react in the same old ways, perpetuating the same old conflicts? Or is there a way out? Of course there is a way out, but it can be difficult because the old patterns are usually motivated by the desire to escape pain, and it’s totally natural to want to escape pain. Something happens, someone does something, and it triggers a painful emotional response. You naturally want to avoid this pain, so you lash out unconsciously or passive aggressively or whatever, in an attempt to vent the pain and punish the one who caused it. But, it doesn’t work, because it just perpetuates a dynamic that guarantees the cycle will continue… that is, until you wake up. To wake up means to see the pattern, and to stop feeding it. This usually means feeling the triggered pain on purpose, without doing anything about it... just being with it. You might think that a lot of meditation can help you “just be with it,” but sometimes the opposite is true. Meditation can give you beautiful and blissful experiences. If you get attached to those experiences, then the pain that life brings can sometimes be even harder to endure. I often hear people lament about having to come down from the lofty mountain of the spirit to deal with the pain of life. It reminds me of a passage I read in one of Ram Dass’ books, where he talks about coming down from a spiritual high and literally “seeing” a tidal wave coming toward him- a tidal wave made out of all the broken relationships, tedious responsibilities, unconscious expectations- the whole mess. It’s natural to resist the pain of that tidal wave! And yet, what are you resisting? What are you holding on to? There is nothing but the Divine, unfolding in ever-new ways through time. If you cling to the spiritual experience of a moment ago, you lose its most important message: God is speaking in and as everything. The unfolding of life in time is God’s Speech. Open to it, as it is. This week’s reading- Devarim, the beginning of the Book of Deuteronomy- gives some beautiful hints of this truth. “Devarim” means “Words”- the words spoken by Moses to the Israelites. They too stand by a river, preparing to cross, and Moses tells them the story of their journeys. He begins by recounting the highest moment, when they stood at Mt. Sinai and heard God speak to them. But does he tell them about all the Torah they learned there? No! He tells them only one piece of Torah- “Rav lakhem shevet bahar hazeh! “It’s too much already for you to still be dwelling by this mountain! Turn and journey for yourselves!” In other words, don't be the scorpion! Life is change. The world is turning; you must turn with it. The journey is “for yourselves”- it is for your own happiness and fulfillment that you have to not cling to your idea of happiness and fulfillment! Then it says, “Uvo’u har ha’emori- and come to the mountain of the Amorites…” On the surface, this is talking about a tribe called “Amorites” that live on a mountain in the Promised Land. But the word for “Amorites” has the same letters as the verb “to speak”- aleph-mem-reish. The hint here is that you must leave the “mountain” where you hear God’s “speech” so that you can come to a new mountain, where there will be new “speech.” Don’t cling to the old speech; it’s dead. Then it goes on to say, “… on the mountain, in the plain, in the lowland, in the desert, and on the seacoast…” The point is not only the next “mountain” experience you will come to. There is also the “plain- aravah”- the ordinary, daily work of life, a mixture (erev) of many different kinds of experiences. Then there is the “lowland- sh’felah”- times of sadness, of tragedy, of failure- all part of God’s speech! These times are medicine for the distortions of ego. Then there is the “desert,” or the “south- negev”- times when your life and work don’t seem to be yielding anything good, but you must persevere through these stretches! These times train us to stay focused and true to our goals. Then there is the “seacoast- hof hayam”- like when the children of Israel stood at the Sea of Reeds, with the Egyptian army behind them. These are times when the outcome is unknown, when we are tempted to fear and despair. This is training for the supreme quality of Trust, to take the leap into the unknown. (Of course, all outcomes are always unknown, but only sometimes does this become obvious!) Finally, it says you will come all the way to “Hanahar Hagadol- the Great River!” The Great River is at the end of the journey, because if you can learn to work with life in all of its manifestations, you will see that life is the Great River. God incarnates in the form of your mind and your body, for just a brief time, to take a little journey on the Great River. This moment is the arena within which we are learning to journey. The Baal Shem Tov taught: “In the Amidah prayer, we say: ‘God of Abraham, God of Isaac, and God of Jacob,’ and not: “God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,’ because Isaac and Jacob connected to the unique form of God’s speech as they heard it; they didn’t rely on what Abraham heard.” As we enter Shabbat Devarim, the Sabbath of Words, may our words be ever fresh and alive, free from old and dead patterns. May we hear the Living Words that are spoken anew, flowing as the Great River, always in this moment.
Integral Kabbalah for the Days of Awe
Class #1: Keter – Oneness “Shofar Chant”
Friends – as we count down to this year's High Holy Days with Torah of Awakening and Urban Adamah, we are planning an audio component to capture the music and feel of how we normally gather.
Check out this rough mix of the SHOFAR CHANT by Tziona Achishena, sung by Jeannette Ferber, Kohenet Yael Schonzeit and all of BRIAH, featuring Josh Miele on bass, Yari Mander and Craig Miller on drums and percussion, and Peter Allen on clarinet:
The Baal Shem Tov once told of a vision he had:
“I was traveling to paradise, and great throngs of people went with me. But the closer got closer to Gan Eden (the Garden of Eden), the more of them disappeared. When I entered and walked through the Garden, there were only a few people left. Finally, I came to the Tree of Life, and as I stood beside Her and looked around, I seemed to be alone…” The mystical journey is a return to Oneness, to a fundamental shift in our relationship to Reality through which we can see that there is, in fact, only One Thing. While this realization may be accompanied by all sorts of perceptual upheaval, radical overthrowing of conceptual maps, and even paranormal experience, it need not be. The ultimate Oneness is, in fact, not remote or inaccessible; it is the simple fact of this moment, grasped in its Unity: וְיָדַעְתָּ הַיּום וַהֲשֵׁבתָ אֶל לְבָבֶךָ כִּי יהוה הוּא הָאֱלהִים בַּשָּׁמַיִם מִמַּעַל וְעַל הָאָרֶץ מִתָּחַת אֵין עוד Know today (be present) and return to your heart (offer your attentiveness), that Hashem Hu HaElohim – Existence Itself is the Divine – in the heavens above and on the earth below, Ayn Od – there is nothing else. - Deuteronomy 4:39 There is nothing but the Divine, which is to say, Reality or Existence Itself is already One; all that is necessary is yadata hayom – know today – meaning, bring your awareness into connection with the present. Give your attention heartfully to Reality as it appears. For just as a movie screen seems invisible when the mind is absorbed in the drama of the projected movie, but becomes completely visible simply by shifting our attention toward it, so too the Oneness of everything that is appearing right now may seem invisible, but only because we have not yet found the path to focus upon it. But… כִּֽי־קָר֥וֹב אֵלֶ֛יךָ הַדָּבָ֖ר מְאֹ֑ד Ki karov elekha hadavar me’od – for this Thing is very close to you! - Deuteronomy 30:14 The moment we call to mind Its Presence, It appears. Everything we perceive already exists in Its “Light.” This “Light,” this Oneness of Being in which everything participates, is Keter, the first sefirah on the Tree of Life. It is the highest, yet also the simplest level of perception there is, wholly accessible right now. And yet, because of its simplicity and constancy, it can be difficult to grasp… not really difficult to know it, but difficult to know that you know it. The Integral Kabbalah Tree of Life glyph can be helpful in defining a path toward bringing the Reality of the One out of the background and into lived experience:
In this version, the sefirah of Keter is on top, with five lines proceeding from it and connecting it with five other sefirot. These five lines represent the five otyot: א ט ח ז כ – kaf, zayin, het, tet, and aleph. These letters offer five pathways into the unitive consciousness of Keter that can be tread either separately or in sequence. In sequence, they progress like this:
KAF K’vod/Kavanah – Majesty/Intentionality “Shining Presence” כ Kaf is the power of decision to be fully with this moment as it is. It is the actualization of consciousness to shine unflinchingly into the truth of however Reality appears, whatever form It might take. This wakefulness is accomplished in an instant, but once it is accomplished, it is easily thwarted by the constant stream of thoughts that blossom forth in the mind. This brings is to the second step: ZAYIN Zekher – Remembrance “Cutting Away Distraction” ז Zayin, which means “weapon” or “sword” means “cutting through” the dramatic pull of thought to the underlying Being-ness. Since thought is an unceasing stream, this requires a constant re-membering, a refusal to be lulled into the dream world of the mind and to shine awareness into the space of the moment. But, this vigilance easily devolves into an aggressive attempt to control the mind, which is the opposite of Presence and Oneness; to remedy this tendency, we come to the next letter: HET Hanun – Compassionate “Presence With” ח While zayin is the vigilance necessary to pierce through the dream-world of the mind, het is the inner feel of Presence once the dream world has been pierced. Het is the soft quality of listening, of patience, of “presence-with” whatever arises, even paradoxically the presence of thought. It is the expression of “I am here with you” – it is the inner “I” that can truly be “here.” Through the deliberate expression of compassion through “presence-with,” we can come to know the inherent quality of awareness itself, which brings us to the next letter: TET Tov, Ta’am – Goodness, Taste “The Taste of Being” ט After bringing forth sustained presence through the compassionate quality of het by turning attention outward, we can then taste the attention itself – what does it taste like? What is the flavor of our own essence, the consciousness that we are, beneath all the forms? One way to describe it is that it is the ta’am of tov, the “taste of goodness.” This is tet – it is the noticing that beneath the content of experience, there is this basic goodness of simply being. Which brings us to the final (and yet first) letter: ALEPH Akhdut – the Unity of Life “Will-ingness, Equanimity” א When we know, experientially, the underlying goodness with no opposite; when we take refuge not in the world of shifting things and conditions but in the inherent miracle of Being, there then arises the possibility of whole-heartedly saying “Yes” to life. We know that, in the world of experience, bitterness and sweetness form a Whole. We know that joy and pain are inseparable. Ordinarily, a person endures this knowledge through unconscious denial and conscious self-distraction. But in knowing the underlying goodness, this becomes no longer necessary. Aleph is being willing to take the basic risk of life every day; it is fully saying “yes” to both bitterness and sweetness, to joy and sorrow, because all opposites appear in the open space of awareness which is its own good, which is truly lishmah, for its own sake.
But, that is not the end.
A life that comes to know its own Oneness, that is grounded in that Oneness, must then forge that Oneness in the world of multiplicity; the Oneness, if it is to become a way, rather than just an experience, must be embodied. There is a hint in the parshah: אִישׁ֩ כִּֽי־יִדֹּ֨ר נֶ֜דֶר לַֽיהוָ֗ה אֽוֹ־הִשָּׁ֤בַע שְׁבֻעָה֙ לֶאְסֹ֤ר אִסָּר֙ עַל־נַפְשׁ֔וֹ לֹ֥א יַחֵ֖ל דְּבָר֑וֹ כְּכָל־הַיֹּצֵ֥א מִפִּ֖יו יַעֲשֶֽׂה׃ If a person vows a vow to the Divine or swears an oath to forbid something to one’s soul, they shall not empty their word; everything that comes from their mouth, so shall they do…
We can say one thing and do another, and our lack of integrity doesn’t affect the Oneness of Being in any way. But, why would we say one thing and do another? Because we lack confidence in the Oneness; we lack integrity because we don’t trust the inner okay-ness, and so we try to manipulate things. Whether or not we have integrity doesn’t affect the Oneness, but it does affect our realization of the Oneness, and perhaps more importantly, it affects other people’s realization of the Oneness. Lo yakhel devaro – Don’t empty your word! When our words are empty, we also commit hilul Hashem – the “emptying” of the Divine Name, because we demonstrate our lack of confidence in the Oneness. But, when we bring together the word and the deed, then that Oneness not only is, not only is realized, but is fulfilled. In the Musaf prayer of Rosh Hashanah we find: עָלָה אֱלֹהִים בִּתְרוּעָה יי בְּקוֹל שׁוֹפָר Alah Elohim Bit’ruah, Adonai B’kol Shofar The Divine is elevated by the blast, Existence with the Sound of the Shofar! On Rosh Hashanah there is the ritual of sounding the shofar, the ram’s horn, one hundred times. Each sounding is preceded by the calling of the particular sound to be made. The t’ruah, which means “blast,” is one of these special sounds. Elohim is a plural word for a singular Divinity, hinting that the Divine is the Oneness behind the multiplicity. Alah means “elevate,” or “transcend.” So, we can read: Alah Elohim Bit’ruah – The Transcendent Unity behind all forms is called forth… Adonai is the pronounced Name, but the actual written name is י–ה–ו–ה, which means “Being” or “Existence.” The kol shofar, the “sound of the ram’s horn,” is the actualization of the Transcendent Unity in the ritual act of “calling” and then “sounding.” In this way, the calling and then sounding of the shofar is an expression of the unified life, of saying what you mean, and doing what you say. In this first of ten weeks counting down to the t’ruah of Rosh Hashanah, may we come to recognize the Unity that Is ever more deeply, and may we bring that Unity to fulfilment through integrity in our words and actions…
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Goof! Parshat Matot
7/11/2018 0 Comments K’khol hayotzei mipiv, ya’aseh – "As everything that comes from his mouth, he shall do...” In Parshat Matot, it says that if a person makes a vow to do something, or takes an oath not to do something, “lo yakhel d’varo- his word shall not be desecrated or emptied – k’khol hayotzei mipiv, ya’aseh – as everything that comes from his mouth, he shall do.” So, on the surface this is talking about keeping your word. You say you’re going to do something, you should do it. But on a deeper level, when we have an intention to do something or not do something, there’s a reason for the intention. The point is not necessarily the act itself, but the result that you intend through the act. For example, let’s say you go to work not because you necessarily like your work, but so you can make money. And you make money not because you like the money, but because you want to use the money to benefit your family. But then let’s say you use the money to buy food for your family, and someone in your family has a terrible allergic reaction to the food and gets really sick, God forbid. So now there’s a contradiction between your intention and your action; that’s called making a mistake. So, on this level, the Torah is saying that there should be a unity between your intention and your action – lo yakhel d’varo- don’t make your intentions mere empty words by doing things or not doing things that bring about the opposite result. Instead, be conscious, be attentive, be careful and do your best to act with wisdom. But wait a minute, you might say. That’s good and well, but in the example that I just gave, the food allergy isn’t something you could have known about in advance; it was a mistake. That’s the whole nature of mistakes – we don’t intend them. They happen by accident. And while it’s true and good to be as conscious and wise as you can, it’s also true that you’re going to make mistakes, because ultimately, we are not in control of what happens. So then, the next verse says, that if a child vows to do something or swears not to do something, and her father hears about it and prevents her from fulfilling her oath, Hashem yislakh lah- God forgives her, ki heini aviah otah- because her father had restrained her; it wasn’t in her control. So, who is this child the Torah talks about? It’s us. We may act with a certain intention, but the “parent” can prevent that intention from happening. Who is the parent? It’s Reality Itself – it’s the Truth of what is – as it says, Emet malkeinu efes zulato – Truth is our king and there is nothing else,meaning, there is nothing but the Truth of what is – there is nothing but God. And so, this is the paradox: on one hand, yes you should be as conscious and careful as you can with your actions – k’khol hayotzei mipiv, ya’aseh – make sure you do your best to bring about the positive result that you intend. But on the other hand, know that you have absolutely no control whatsoever over what happens. So, don’t beat yourself up over your mistakes; that’s just the ego clinging to a self-image of being successful, or good or whatever. Instead, surrender to the Truth and know that Hashem yislakh lah – you are forgiven because you weren’t really in control in the first place, so you must forgive yourself if you want to be free from hameitzar- from the separateness and narrowness of ego, and really experience anani hamerkhav Yah- the infinitely vast expansiveness of the Divine. But how do you do that? How do you come to forgive yourself so that you can experience Hashem yislakh lah – that you are truly forgiven for all your mistakes? Ultimately there is only one way, and that is that you have to forgive everyone else! As it says in Vayikra- Leviticus 10:18, ve’ahavtah l’reiakha k’mokha – love your neighbor as yourself – and if you’re not sure what it means, that you should love others like you love yourself, then right before that it says, lo titur et b’nai amekha- don’t bear a grudge against the children of your people. So, on this Shabbat Mattot, the Sabbath of the Tribes, may we be vigilant against that unconscious tendency that often happens in community, to judge other members of our tribe. Not just because it’s bad for the community and for relationships, but because when your judge others instead of forgiving others, you won’t be able to forgive yourself. The ego that judges others is the same ego that gets you stuck in self judgment. Give permission for others to be as they are, even when you have to correct them. You can accept someone in your heart even as you reprimand them for something; there’s no contradiction there. And in that acceptance, you will be able to truly accept yourself, even as you try to learn from your mistakes. And through this paradox of acceptance and action, of forgiveness and correction, may the rav tov – the abundant goodness of Being Itself, of Reality Itself, become ever more apparent, healing all who seek it. Good Shabbos! Don't Blow it Out Your Window- Parshat Mattot 8/2/2016 6 Comments One summer, my son attended a band camp in Danville, California. Since the drive was 45 minutes each way from our home in Oakland, I just stayed out in Danville all day and worked in my car rather than drive back and forth twice. Danville is quite a bit hotter than Oakland, and there are fewer trees as well, so it was a challenge to find a shady place to park. The first day, I drove around for long while before finding a tiny tree that could at least partially shade my car. I parked there and rolled down the windows. That was fine for the first couple hours, but then it started getting really hot. So, I rolled up the windows, turned on the car, put on the air conditioner and continued to work. After some time, I was surprised by how ineffective the air conditioner was. Then, I was startled by a noise coming from the backseat. I twisted around to see what was going on and realized- I had neglected to roll up the back windows! No wonder it wasn’t getting any cooler. All the cold air was blowing into the car and right back out the window. Spiritual life can be like that too sometimes. You might be trying to “cool down” your anger or impulsiveness, or maybe you need to “heat up” your enthusiasm for your daily practice. And yet, even with the best intentions, transformation might elusive. In that case, it is possible that you’ve "left the window open." All your best intentions are “blowing right out the window!” How do you “roll up the window” and make the most out of the power of your intention without wasting it? This week’s reading begins: “Ish ki yidor neder laShem- if a person takes a vow to the Divine, or swears an oath to prohibit something upon oneself… “...k’khol yotzei mipiv ya’aseh- according to everything that comes out of one’s mouth, one shall do…” Why would someone want to take a vow or swear an oath? Because verbally saying your intention- and even repeating it often- is a powerful way to “shut the window.” Just because you have an intention one moment, that doesn’t mean your brain will constantly be connected to that intention, especially if the intention goes against your habits. For that, you need to create a new pattern in your nervous system so that the intention doesn’t “fly out the window” as life unfolds in real time. So, if want to transform, put the transformation in your mouth! And then, repeat it often. What is it that you desire to bring forth from yourself? When that becomes clear to you, commit to it. Write it down. Repeat it often. Then, when the flow of life tends to confuse and distract, you will be solid as a rock. If your intention is clear to yourself, nothing can shake you. But, you might ask, isn’t attaching yourself to some goal a function of ego? It’s true- if you merely say, “I commit to accomplishing such-and-such,” you can and probably will create ego-identification with the goal. The ego seeks control, and when things don’t go your way, that creates suffering. That’s why intention and commitment have to be balanced with surrender and trust, and this is the basic function of prayer. The purpose of praying for things is not to control God or manifest our desires, but rather to make our desires transparent, not-fixed, not-egoic. When we pray for something, we recognize that we aren’t in control; we don’t even control our own thoughts. We pray only because the words have arisen in our mouths to pray- there is no “me,” there is only God- unfolding in every form and every happening. At the same time, if your prayer makes you passive so that you simply wait for God to act, you’ve make a false split between you and God. You assume that “God” is one thing and you are another. But there is One Reality. Commit and act, but know that it is not you who acts. Pray, but know that God prays through you. One Friday afternoon, the Baal Shem Tov traveled with his disciples to a certain far-off village, and led them to a little broken down shack of a house. He knocked, and when a woman opened the door and saw they were travelers, she warmly greeted them: “Won’t you stay for Shabbos?” she asked. The Baal Shem Tov immediately accepted. The disciples were surprised- why were they bothering this poor family who obviously had hardly enough for themselves? At Shabbos dinner, when they came to the motzi, the blessing over the bread, a tiny crust of bread with mold on it was brought out. After the blessing, the Baal Shem grabbed the tiny crust and gobbled it down himself. The disciples were terribly embarrassed. Next, a little bit of dried fish was brought out for dinner. Again, the Baal Shem grabbed it and gobbled it down, not allowing anyone else even a taste. For the rest of Shabbos, the Baal Shem did similar things, while the disciples endured his actions in silent agony. After Shabbos was over and they set off to return home, they could restrain themselves no longer: “How could you behave that way? What is the matter with you??” The Baal Shem was just silent. A year later, the Baal Shem Tov brought those same disciples back to the same little village where they had visited the poor family the year before. But, when they arrived, there was a palatial mansion in the place where the little shack once stood! The Baal Shem Tov explained: “The man whose home we visited last year was fully capable of becoming successful in business, but he was so full of faith, that he chose to rely only on God’s grace and wouldn’t do anything to help himself. Yes, he prayed passionately for livelihood, but refused to take any steps toward it. “When we visited last year, that crust of bread and bit of fish were enough to keep him trapped in his passivity. All I needed to do was take away that last bit of sustenance, so that he’d be pushed over the edge and forced to take some action. That’s what he did, and just look at them now!” On this Shabbat Mattot, the Sabbath of Tribes, may we support each other in manifesting our visions and goals. May we recognize that commitment to action and prayer are two sides of the Whole- the passive and the active, as One. May you have abundant success and blessing in all your ways! Good Shabbos!
Recently I received this question:
I am struggling with something ...I have done a lot of things in my life but I still don’t know what my purpose is. Do you have any thoughts about how to figure that out? What a wonderful and core question! Like many spiritual inquiries, an answer requires exploration at a number of levels: From a traditional Jewish point of view, our purpose is to do our part in the purpose of creation in general, which is to reveal Divine Reality in the world. We participate in this singular goal, in turn, on two different levels: First, we participate simply by existing. Without doing anything in particular, even without having any knowledge of it, we are always already a part of the process of Divine revelation in the world; we cannot do otherwise. Our existence is part of Existence; we play the role in the unfolding of Reality that we are given, whether we understand it or not. But, second, we can also participate intentionally. The whole point of the spiritual path is not to merely play our role unconsciously, but to be active participants in the process, to become “partners with the Divine” in a sense. We do this by committing to a path of Torah and avodah, “learning and spiritual practice,” as well as gemilut hasadim, “acts of kindness.” With these there are both internal and external aspects; for example, doing the mitzvah of lighting Shabbat candles on Friday evening are an external example of avodah, while connecting to the Divine in meditation (devakut) would be an internal example. There is also a way in which our knowledge of our participation in the purpose of Existence unintentionally can become part of how we participate intentionally: Ordinarily, we tend to see our lives in relation to our own experience; we judge things based on how they look and seem to us. But when we understand that there is a deeper process going on that is beyond the scope of our mental maps and immediate perception, we can surrender to that Bigger Picture and practice dedicating all parts of our lives to the service of the One. This “sanctification of the ordinary,” and even sanctification of things we might consider unholy, is a core practice of Hasidism and it has the power to liberate us from the angst that can arise from the question of meaning and purpose, by transforming whatever we happen to be doing into a means toward Divine fulfillment. All of this, however, is part of a general understanding of purpose, applicable equally to anyone who cares to ask the question. But there is also a level that is specific and unique to each individual: There is a story that Rabbi Baer of Radoshitz once asked his rebbe, Rabbi Yaakov Yitzhak (the “Seer of Lublin”) to show him one general way to fulfill his purpose. The Seer answered: “It is impossible to tell people one general way. One person fulfills their purpose through the teachings, another through prayer, another through fasting, still another through eating. Everyone should look within and see which way their heart draws them, and then choose that path with all their strength.” There are two key points to this teaching. The first and more obvious one is that our purpose is given to us partially by our inclinations; we don’t need to look externally for our purpose, because we are already drawn toward some things and away from others. The second and less obvious point is that, after you discern your own inclinations, you must choose them as your purpose. Your own power of choice is not something separate and unrelated to the discovery of your purpose; we must use our full power of decision and commitment to say, “I choose such-and-such as my purpose.” We can see this truth hidden in the story of Moses and the Burning Bush. On the surface, it looks like God simply gives him his purpose by telling him to free the Israelites. But actually, Moses already knew about the suffering of his brethren in Egypt; God wasn’t telling him anything new. On this deeper level, the “burning bush” is really a symbol of his own waking up to the power of decisiveness. This decisiveness certainly has an element that comes from beyond the self; Moses didn’t “choose” to be an Israelite brought up in the palace of Pharaoh. His situation was given. But, he still needed to choose his path with his whole being – that’s what it means to look into the fire of the burning bush; that’s what it means to be commanded; that’s what it means to discover your unique purpose: it is both receiving and choosing in one. There is a hint in the parshah: פִּֽינְחָ֨ס בֶּן־אֶלְעָזָ֜ר בֶּן־אַהֲרֹ֣ן הַכֹּהֵ֗ן הֵשִׁ֤יב אֶת־חֲמָתִי֙ מֵעַ֣ל בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל בְּקַנְא֥וֹ אֶת־קִנְאָתִ֖י בְּתוֹכָ֑ם וְלֹא־כִלִּ֥יתִי אֶת־בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל בְּקִנְאָתִֽי׃ “Pinhas, son of Elazar, son of Aaron the priest, has turned back My wrath from the Children of Israel with his passion for My passion among them, so that I did not consume the Children of Israel in My passion.” לָכֵ֖ן אֱמֹ֑ר הִנְנִ֨י נֹתֵ֥ן ל֛וֹ אֶת־בְּרִיתִ֖י שָׁלֽוֹם׃ “Therefore I say, behold! I grant him My covenent of peace!” This strange passage comes in the aftermath of the episode in which the Midianite women seduce many Israelite men into an idolatrous orgy. At the hight of it, Pinhas grabs a spear and executes an Israelite man and Midianite women in sexual embrace, thus appeasing “God’s wrath” and saving many Israelite lives. In our times, when violence resulting from religious zelotry is not something we tend to value, this passage can be a difficult vessel for spiritual teaching. But we must look below the surface: What is idolatry? In the Zohar and in many other Kabbalah texts, idolatry is understood not primarily as the worship of statues, but as the recognition of the sacred dimension in something as separate from its Divine Source. For example, let’s say you recognize the sacredness of a particular flower. Good! But then, a landscaper guy comes along and cuts it down with a weedwacker accidentally, and you murder the landscaper guy because he cut down your sacred flower. That would be idolatry, not because the flower isn’t sacred, but because in your mind you cut off the sacredness of the flower from the sacredness of human life; you made an “idol” out of the flower. Similarly, just as there is a unity between the sacredness of all life, so there is a unity between the impulse we feel toward fulfilling our purpose and our own power to decide our purpose. If someone came along and told us our purpose (as cult leaders and ideologically extreme politicians will often do), and we were to just accept what they say unquestioningly, thereby negating our own Divine potential for judgment and decision, that too would idolatry; we would have “cut off” our impulse toward purpose from our own inner reality. When Pinhas comes along and pierces the couple with his spear, he is “piercing” through false separation; he is, in that moment, choosing his purpose by “killing” the seductive force of idolatry, the tendnency to see our purpose as somehow outside of ourselves. This is why he is given the brit shalom – the “covenant of peace” – for such a “violent” act. Sometimes we too must “pierce through” our inertia, our inability to take this moment seriously, to take ourselves and our situation seriously, in order to formulate and realize our own unique and Divine purpose. In this way, we too can win the brit shalom – the inner peace that comes from bringing our potential into actuality and coming into harmony with the truth of who we really are. Here is an exercise: Sit in meditation with the question, “What am I drawn toward? What do I want to do? How do I want to live?” See what arises. Answers may not come right away. If this is the case, try asking prayerfully that an answer come. When answers do begin to come, see if you can choose one of the answers to work with as an affirmation of purpose. Make a dedication to it. If you find it difficult to commit, it may not be the right purpose. Or, you may simply be resistant to commitment! Only you can discern this; return to the question in your meditation until you receive a path to which you can commit. If time goes by and you still don’t receive any satisfactory answers, make this practice itself into your purpose, temporarily. Dedicate yourself to finding the path that will serve as your purpose, and continue with inquiry as part of your daily practice. Don’t worry how long it takes; the dedication to the practice will bear its own fruit in time. Trust the process…
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Questioning Your Mind – Parshat Pinhas
7/24/2019 0 Comments Today it seems that, once again, we are in a cultural and political crisis. Beliefs and values seem to have clumped together into two opposing camps, each often accusing the other of the worst. It is a war, in a sense, because the prevailing belief is that if you hear the point of the other and empathize in any way, they might get the upper hand. So, the rule is, fight to win. Exaggerate (or invent) the failings of the other, so that they remain your enemy. I wonder if it is possible for intelligence to pierce through this mind and emotion created illusion, just as the spear of Pinhas pierced through Zimri and Kozbi (names which together mean the “song of falsehood”)? Can awareness prevail over the power of ideology, on a cultural level? Can we, not only as individuals, but as a movement in history, become more interested in questions than assertions? It is true, questions can be endless, and sometimes action is required. If an arrow is stuck in your body, you don’t ask where the arrow came from, who made it, and so on; you remove it from your body and save your life. But what about when the action we think is required isn’t based on a clear seeing of an arrow in your body, but on stories we believe in, stories we identify with, stories that our collective egos are invested in? It is then, perhaps, that the action required is a stepping back from acting to make a space for questions. It is then, perhaps, that the actions required would be actions aimed at awakening the spirit of the question in people. Then, perhaps, is now. I wonder: might we be able to ask questions that pierce through our most cherished beliefs about what is right and true, in order to clear a space for seeing without bias? Or, at least, might we be able to see our own bias? I know, these are dangerous questions, and it is dangerous to promote the spirit of the question. Many in history have been killed for doing so. In the haftora, Elijah must have felt the danger and hopelessness of his mission in a similar way, when Jezebel vowed to have him killed for questioning the cult of Baal that the Israelites had adopted. Despondent, he left the world of people and went out into the wilderness to die. But then an angel came to him and gave him food and drink – “get up and eat!” He ate and drank a little, then lay back down again to die. Then the angel gave him some more food: “You will need this for your journey ahead!” Then he seems to get super powers from the second meal and he walks for forty days and nights. Eventually he comes to a cave here he is shown a vision of the power of the Divine, manifesting as great winds, earthquakes and fires, and yet the Divine was not in the wind, the earth, or the fire. Where was It? ק֖וֹל דְּמָמָ֥ה דַקָּֽה – Kol d’mama dakah – a still, small voice… Can we sense the Divine power in the fiery storms that are erupting today? Can we sense that we are being pushed by them, as the forces of evolution have always pushed life to transform, to hear what is beneath all those storms? Can the kol d’mama dakah actually be our own voice, arising out of the depths of stillness beneath our thoughts and feelings? The angel is tapping you on the shoulder; she gives you the nourishment of the teachings and implores you: don’t run away from the storms, but don’t get caught up in them either! God is not in the storm, but there is a Divine potential of the storm – this crisis has a purpose, if we are willing to engage it. And that purpose could be: awakening out of the mind, out of the passionate beliefs, out of ideologies, out of polarization, and into the spirit of the question, into the spirit of openness, into the willingness to really look. Whether that is the purpose or not, is actually our choice. Will you be part of the (r)evolution? Freedom in Pain – Parshat Pinhas 7/5/2018 1 Comment There are really two different kinds of discomfort. The first is like when you stub your toe. It happens suddenly, and once it happens, you're going to feel pain; there's no choice involved. The second is like when someone is talking your ear off, and you want to get away. The discomfort increases moment by moment, and you can get away any time you choose. If you want to live an awakened life, if you want to be free, these two kinds of discomfort require two different responses. The first requires simple acceptance; there's no way to escape the intense pain once you stub your toe. The second requires conscious choice about when to stay in the discomfort and keep listening to the person talk at you, and when to simply walk away. Yet for some reason, we often confuse these two situations. We can trick ourselves into thinking we're "trapped" by someone talking to us, and not realize that we have a choice. When we finally escape, we might be angry at the person: "How could they keep talking at me like that! How insensitive!" And yet, we could have left any time; we don't take the power that's ours, and instead blame someone outside ourselves for our experience. Or, we lament and complain about some discomfort that we can't control, when we should really just accept it; it already happened, we have no control! So why be in conflict with it? There's a hint of this in Parshat Pinhas: צַ֚ו אֶת־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל וְאָֽמַרְתָּ֖ אֲלֵהֶ֑ם אֶת־קָרְבָּנִ֨י לַחְמִ֜י לְאִשַּׁ֗י רֵ֚יחַ נִֽיחֹחִ֔י תִּשְׁמְר֕וּ לְהַקְרִ֥יב לִ֖י בְּמֽוֹעֲדֽוֹ Command the children of Israel and say to them, “My offerings, My food for My fires, My satisfying aroma, you shall take care to offer Me in its special time… If you draw your awareness into your pain, it becomes לַחְמִ֜י לְאִשַּׁ֗י – food for My fires –that is, food for awareness, because awareness is strengthened through the practice of fully being present with whatever you feel the impulse to resist. That's the first kind of pain, like stubbing your toe. That’s why the offering is called קָרְבָּנִ֨י – My korban, because korban means to “draw near.” The magic is that even though you are drawing your awareness into something unpleasant, the attitude of openness can transmute the pain into a connection with the Divine, with Reality, with our own being, which are all ultimately the same thing. The second type of pain, as in the example of someone talking at you, is the רֵ֚יחַ נִֽיחֹחִ֔י –pleasing aroma. That's because there's a sweetness when you claim your own power to change your situation, and not blame others. Our response to these different kinds of discomfort must be done בְּמֽוֹעֲדֽוֹ – it its special time – meaning, our response has to be in alignment with the reality of our situation. Is it time to simply accept, or is it time to act? Notice the inner tendency to lean away from your own power, or to lean into resisting what has already happened. Then, simply lean a bit the other way, and come back into balance. Once, when Reb Yisrael of Rizhyn was sitting casually with his Hassidim and smoking his pipe, one of them asked, "Rebbe, please tell, me– how can I truly serve Hashem?" "How should I know?" said the rebbe, "But I'll tell you, once there were two friends who broke the law and were brought before the king. The king was fond of them and wanted to acquit them, but he couldn't just let them off the hook completely. "So, the king had a tight rope extended over a deep pit. He told the friends, 'If you can get to the other side of the pit on the tightrope, you can go free.' The first set his foot on the rope and quickly scampered across. The second called to his friend, 'How did you do it?' "'How should I know?' said the first, 'But I'll tell you– when I started to fall toward one side, I just leaned a little to the other side...'" Good Shabbos! Piercing the Two Layers of Mind- Parshat Pinhas 7/14/2017 0 Comments "Notein lo et briti shalom – "I give him my covenant of peace.” Parshat Pinkhas begins in the aftermath of a plague that God put on the Israelites, because they had been seduced by the Midianites into an idolatrous orgy. At its climax, The Israelite man Zimri and the Midianite woman Kozbi are engaged in sexual union in front of everyone, and the zealot Pinkhas comes along and kills them both by piercing them through with a spear, causing the punishing plague to subside. God then says in the opening of the parsha, that Pinkhas “heishiv et khamati- turned back my wrath from upon the children of Israel- b’kano et kinati- when he avenged my vengeance” or “my jealousy. Therefore, hin’ni, check it out- notein lo et briti shalom- I give him my covenant of peace.” Woe, what is going on here. This sounds like the vengeful, jealous God that everyone loves to hate. What kind of a God is that, right? A God that’s jealous, a God that kills people and so on. And yet, in a sense, that’s actually perfectly true. From a certain point of view, God is a vengeful, jealous God that kills people. Not literally, of course, but this is scripture. It’s pointing to something spiritual in the language of the time it was written. So what is it pointing to? There is a basis, or a foundation for everything you’re experiencing right now. Whether we’re talking about things that appear to be outside of you – like the sensory world, what you see, what you hear, or things that appear to be inside you, such as feelings or thoughts, everything is perceived only because of this miracle called consciousness. And in the field of your experience, everything you perceive is, in fact, made out of consciousness. So that thing that I see over there is nothing but consciousness, because seeing is a function of consciousness. And, in fact, the sense of “me” that sees the thing over there, this body/mind that I call me, is also something that I perceive, so it too is just a form of consciousness. So the thing I see and the me that sees are both forms of one consciousness. And yet, as you know, most people have no sense of that at all. There’s just the sense of me over here in this body and that thing over there that I see. Why? Because we’re constantly framing our experience with language that reinforces the belief that things are objective and separate. The language we use refers to “me” and “that thing over there,” and so our thinking which is largely made out of language, is deeply conditioned with this assumption of separateness, even though our experience right now tells us otherwise. But to really see what our experience is telling us, we have to pierce a hole through the lie that’s created with our language. And to do that takes a special effort because the language lie is two-ply. Just like good toilet paper. If you have only one-ply toilet paper, that doesn’t work too well. Good toilet paper has two layers of paper so that it doesn’t tear when you’re using it. It’s the same with our minds- there’s two layers. The first layer is simply the fact that our minds are constantly going. Bla bla bla bla. It’s like a song that you get stuck in your head. Once that song is stuck, it just repeats over and over, because it’s created a groove in your nervous system. That’s why music is groovy. Dance music is always talking about “getting into the groove” and “making you move” because it’s playing on this tendency of the mind to get into grooves of thought patterns within which your mind moves. That’s the first layer you have to get through- the movement in the groove of constant thinking. The other ply is the content of the groove- the nature of how language tends to work. How does language work? Well even right now as I talk about language, the words are creating the impression that language is this thing that “I” am talking about. So there’s the sense that “I” and the subject of this talk, language, are two separate things. This doesn’t get questioned unless we deliberately decide to question it, which is what we’re doing right now by the way, because it’s simply the background assumption of language and thinking- that there’s a me who thinks and talks, and there are things that the “me” thinks and talks about. And yet we can, if we choose, notice that these words right now, as well as whatever concepts we’re talking about, as well as this body that’s talking, as well as the “you” that’s listening, are all living within and are forms of awareness. And as soon as we point this out, there can be this subtle but profound shift- and this is the shift into knowing that there’s only one thing going on. Hashem Eloheinu Hashem Ekhad- All Existence, all Being is not separate from Eloheinu- our own divinity, meaning consciousness, and Hashem Ekhad- All Existence is just this One thing that’s going on- consciousness in form. And how do you know this? Because you are Sh’ma- you are the listening, the perceiving, and nothing you perceive is separate from that. Isn’t it funny that we tend to look for God, thinking we know the world but we have to find God, when in Reality, God is the only thing we really know? Meaning, we know that there’s Existence. And we know that the knowing and the Existence, are not separate. That’s Hashem Ekhad; that’s the Oneness of God right there. Or should we say, right here. So if you choose to think in this very different, very counter-intuitive and yet very obvious kind of way, you can pierce through that ply of separateness almost instantly. Because even though it’s counterintuitive, it’s also really obvious. It’s really obvious that there’s only one Reality and this is it. How many Realities could there possibly be? Only one, because Reality just means whatever is. And it’s also totally obvious that you don’t have to go anywhere or do anything to find Reality, because there’s only ever one place to find it, and that’s always right now in your present moment experience. So once you do that, and hopefully we just did it, the next step is to connect with the Presence of Being in form. Meaning, let your awareness really connect whatever is present, rather than continue with all that duality producing language. Just let yourself be present. This isn’t complicated- just notice what’s going on… and be conscious of your breathing. And in doing that, your mind effortlessly becomes quiet, and you pierce through the other ply- the layer of the constantly moving mind. So once you’ve gotten through the two layers, and maybe you just have, Reality can be your friend, and the plague, so to speak, can be lifted. What’s the plague? It’s just the belief that you’re separate. And that’s why God can be thought of as jealous or vengeful. Not literally of course, but if you’re not paying attention to God, meaning you’re not seeing the underlying Being of everything, always focused on the conditional world, then you’re literally in exile from yourself. You’re identified with this tiny piece of who you really are, and you don’t even know it. So this is why God gives Pinkhas the covenant of shalom – of peace and wholeness – for killing Zimriand Kozbi. Because what is Zimri? It’s like the word zemer- song. So Zimri is “my song”- meaning, the constant movement of the mind; the song that my thoughts are always singing. And what is Kozbi? Kaf-Zayin-Bet means a lie, a falsehood. So Kozbi means “my lie.” And when Zimri and Kozbi unite, that’s the two ply barrier of both constant thinking and the lie of separateness that Pinkhas is able to pierce through. Now, what is Pinkhas? It’s Pey-Nekhs. Pey is a mouth, and Nekhs is bad, or unsuccessful. So Pinkhas knows the bad side of the mouth, meaning language, how it tends to make us unsuccessful in our quest for Truth. So he pierces through both layers, and receives the Brit Shalom, reminding us that whoever wants real peace and wholeness, must also pierce through the two-ply toilet paper of the mind. So on this Shabbat Pinkhas, which we might call the Sabbath of Silence, may we pierce more deeply and consistently through the noise and conditioning of the mind, connecting with and also embodying in our actions, words and even thoughts, the Divine Presence of Being that is ever-present... love, brian yosef Put Your Weed in There! Parshat Pinhas 7/28/2016 4 Comments One of my favorite Saturday Night Live sketches begins in one of those exotic import stores, filled with incense holders, meditation bowls, handmade musical instruments and the like. A stoner-type guy who works there comes up to some customers and starts showing them some crafty knick-knack import. He says in a stoner voice: “This is a Senegalese lute carved from deer wood, used for fertility rituals… oh and you can put your weed in there!” They move from one knick-knack to another. Each time the stoner guy describes the intricacies and history of the item, he concludes by showing them some hole or little compartment in it and says, “Oh, and you can put your weed in there!”- and stuffs a baggy of marijuana into it. Finally, a cop comes into the store. When the stoner sees the cop, he anxiously tells his customers to say nothing about weed. The cop walks over to them and says, “How you doing?” The stoner clenches his jaw, trying to restrain himself, and then busts out uncontrollably: “WEED!! WEED!! WEED!!” The cop says, “Why are you yelling like that?” He then examines the knick-knack he’s holding, finds the weed and arrests him. The Talmud says (Sukkah 52a), “A person’s yetzer (drive, inclination, desire) grows stronger each day and desires his death.” In the sketch, all the stoner guy has to do to not get caught is nothing. But he can’t help it- he yells, “Weed! Weed!” How often are you given the opportunity for life to go well, to go smoothly, and somehow you find yourself messing the whole thing up? Why do we have this yetzer hara- this “evil urge”- this drive toward self-destruction? In his introduction to Pirkei Avot, HaRav Yochanan Zweig proposes something unique and compelling: He says that the reason we tend to sabotage ourselves is actually because of our unbelievably enormous potential. We know, on some level, that our potential is enormous, and that creates a kind of psychological pressure. We are terrified of not living up to our potential. So, to avoid the pain of knowing our great potential and not living up to it, we try to convince ourselves that we have no potential, that we are worthless, and all our self-destructive behaviors are aimed at proving our worthlessness to ourselves. This week’s reading begins with the aftermath of a self-destructive incident as well. The Israelites had just been dwelling peacefully in their camp. Then the Midianites come along and try to seduce them into an orgy of idolatry and adultery. The Midianites didn’t attack them militarily; all the Israelites had to do is say “No thank you,” and they’d be fine. But what happens? They are easily seduced and the Divine wrath flares up. It’s the golden calf all over again! Dang. The fellow for whom the parshah is named, Pinhas, then wields his spear and kills two particularly hutzpadik offenders who were flaunting their orgiastic idolatry right in front of the holy “Tent of Meeting.” This week’s parshah then begins with Pinhas getting rewarded for his heroic murder, and he is given a Divine Brit Shalom- a “Covenant of Peace.” For many, it’s hard to see anything positive in this story. Murder in the name of religious zealotry? Embarrassing. And yet, if we dig deep into the underlying currents of the narrative, an urgent message emerges: There is a powerful drive toward self-sabotage, toward self-destruction. It is seductive, sexy, exciting and relentless. It will disguise itself in all kinds of ways to trick you and lure you into its power. But, you can overcome it, if you are aware of it! In fact, if you are aware of it, it has no power at all. The Talmud says that in the future, the Yetzer harawill be revealed for what it really is. When the wicked see the yetzer hara, it will appear as a thin hair. They will weep and say, “How were we ensnared by such a thin hair?” The key is being conscious, and clearly holding the intention that you are not living for your own gratification, but rather you are here to serve the enormous potential for wisdom and love that is your essence, your divine nature. At the same time, it’s crucial to acknowledge that you do have needs and desires. While it’s true there are times when our impulses are so destructive that they must be completely halted as represented by Pinhas and his spear, in most cases our thirsts can be quenched in moderation, with balance and wisdom. Our desires, after all, are like the impulses of an animal. Don’t let the animal take over, but don’t torture it either. You have the power, through your awareness, to give the animal enough so that it let’s you have peace, without it taking over and pulling you toward self-sabotage. There’s a story of a simple man who came to Maggid of Koznitz with his wife, demanding that he be allowed to divorce her. “Why would you want to do that?” asked the Maggid. “I work very hard all week,” said the man, “and on Shabbos I want to have some pleasure. Now for Shabbat dinner, my wife first serves the fish, then the onions, then some heavy main dish, and by the time she puts the pudding on the table, I have eaten all I want and have no appetite for it. All week I work for this pudding, and when it comes I can’t even taste it- and all my labor was for nothing! “Time after time I ask my wife to please put the pudding on the table right after Kiddush (the blessing over wine), but no! She says that the way she does it is the proper minhag (custom).” The Maggid turned to the woman. “From now on, make a little extra pudding. Take a bit of the pudding and serve it right after Kiddush.Then, serve the rest of it after the main dish, as before.” The couple agreed to this and went on their way. From that time on, it became the minhag (custom) in the Maggid’s house to serve some pudding right after Kiddush, and this minhag was passed on to his children and his children’s children. It was called the Shalom Bayit Pudding- the “Peace-in-the-House Pudding!” On this Shabbat Pinkhas, the Sabbath of Peace, may we be aware of the needs of our hearts an bodies, giving and receiving the pleasures of life without being controlled by them. May we know that we are infinitely more vast than any particular impulse or want. May we see that all impulses come and go, and that we need not identify with them. And that is the good kind of self-destruction! Good Shabbos, Bless you, brian yosef |
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