Parshah Summary – P’shat
The parshah opens with the instruction to appoint judges and law enforcement officers in every city. “Justice, justice shall you pursue,” Moses tells them. Crimes must be thoroughly investigated and a minimum of two credible witnesses is required for conviction. Furthermore, the Torah must be alive: in every generation, the law must be interpreted and applied in new ways. Moses then reviews laws governing the appointment and behavior of a king, along with the laws of the “cities of refuge” for the inadvertent murderer. Also set forth are the rules of war: the exemption from battle for one who has just built a home, planted a vineyard, married, or is “afraid and soft-hearted;” the requirement to offer terms of peace before attacking a city; and the prohibition against needlessly destroying something of value, such as the law that forbids cutting down fruit trees when laying siege – “For a human being is a tree of the field.” The parshah concludes with the law of the eglah arufah—the special procedure to be followed when a person is killed by an unknown murderer and the body is found in a field—which underscores the responsibility of the community and its leaders not only for what they do, but also for what they might have prevented from being done.
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
שְׁמַ֣ע יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל אַתֶּ֨ם קְרֵבִ֥ים הַיּ֛וֹם לַמִּלְחָמָ֖ה עַל־אֹיְבֵיכֶ֑ם אַל־יֵרַ֣ךְ לְבַבְכֶ֗ם אַל־תִּֽירְא֧וּ וְאַֽל־תַּחְפְּז֛וּ וְאַל־תַּֽעַרְצ֖וּ מִפְּנֵיהֶֽם׃ Hear, O Israel! You are near, today, to the battle against your enemies. Don’t let your heart be distant; don’t be afraid, don’t panic, and don’t be broken before them. - Devarim (Deuteronomy) 20:3, Parshat Shoftim
Rabbi Yitzhak of Vorki once happened to visit Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk on Shabbat, who at that time had just begun to live in great seclusion and received only close friends, like the rabbi of Vorki. “Why,” asked Rabbi Yitzhak, “have you gone to such extremes in withdrawing from people?”
Rabbi Mendel replied: “The answer is in Parshat T’rumah: וְיִקְחוּ־לִ֖י תְּרוּמָ֑ה – ‘They shall take for Me an offering.’ Meaning: when one wishes to “take” the Godly Path, one must make an ‘offering.’ That is, they must offer up all companionship, not only that of evil people, but also that of good people; for a little further on we read: ‘Of every person whose heart is willing to give.’” “But there is a deeper meaning to verse,” replied the rabbi of Vorki, “When one wishes to “take” the Godly Path, they must take what every person offers them. They should accept the companionship of everyone, and by associating with everyone, receive from them whatever is given as the Godly Path. But there is one qualification: you cannot receive the Path if your heart is locked. Only the person ‘whose heart is willing’ can find the Path.” What does it mean for the “heart to be willing”? אַל־יֵרַךְ לְבַבְכֶ֗ם – Don’t let your heart be distant… The “Godly Path” appears when we bring our “hearts” close to what is actually being “given” in the moment – meaning, when we bring our awareness into connection with the truth of our actual experience, now. This is because That which we call “God” is, in fact, not something separate from our awareness; not something separate from whatever it is we encounter. How do we know this? שְׁמַ֣ע יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל – Listen/become aware, Israel! This verse begins just like the other, better known verse which proclaims the Divine Oneness. But in case we’re in denial about what Oneness actually means, the next words tell us: אַתֶּ֨ם קְרֵבִ֥ים הַיּ֛וֹם לַמִּלְחָמָ֖ה עַל־אֹיְבֵיכֶ֑ם... – You are close, today, to the battle against your enemies… This word for “close,” קְרֵבִים k’reivim, can mean not just close in space, but close in intimate connection. הַיּ֛וֹם Hayom – “today” – of course means Now. So it is saying: Open yourself; come close to this moment. We need this instruction because when we experience emotional pain, the tendency is to recoil, to contract, to project blame upon something we imagine to be the source of our pain. The imagined source – a person, a situation, whatever – seems to be our “enemy.” But here it reminds us: Come close to that urge toward “battle.” Notice this unconscious impulse; be the awareness of the impulse. אַל־יֵרַךְ לְבַבְכֶם – Don’t let your heart falter… The word for “falter” – יֵרַךְ yeirakh – is a different form of the word for “hip” – יָרֵך yareikh – the place where Jacob was struck when he wrestled the “angel,” after which he limped – hence the connection with falter. But the hip is also a euphemism for the reproductive organs, the part of the body that is usually hidden. So, we might retranslate אַל־יֵרַ֣ךְ לְבַבְכֶם al yeirakh l’vavkhem to mean, “don’t hide your heart.” Together, we can understand the two meanings of “falter” and “hiddenness” to mean: Don’t cripple your heart by hiding it away! Don’t split yourself in two – whatever pain arises is literally made out of your own awareness – be present with it and don’t be ruled by it. As it says: אַל־תִּֽירְא֧וּ וְאַֽל־תַּחְפְּז֛וּ – Don’t be afraid, and don’t panic! Don’t fear your own fear – bring your awareness into the fear. Relax; don’t panic – don’t buy into the drama, simply feel whatever is there to be felt. וְאַל־תַּֽעַרְצ֖וּ מִפְּנֵיהֶֽם – And don’t be broken before them! This sums up the entire teaching: don’t divide yourself by imagining there is something in your experience that is separate from you; everything you perceive right now is arising as a form within your own awareness. Furthermore, this awareness that you are is actually far beyond you – it is the Awareness of Reality Itself, incarnating as you; it is the Divine, seeing through your eyes. This is hinted at by the construction of each of these phrases: אַל־יֵרַךְ לְבַבְכֶם אַל־תִּֽירְאוּ וְאַֽל־תַּחְפְּזוּ וְאַל־תַּֽעַרְצוּ מִפְּנֵיהֶֽם Al yeirakh… al tir-u, v’al takh-p’zu, v’al ta-artzu – don’t don’t don’t don’t! The word for “don’t” – אַל al – with a slight vowel change, can also means both “to” (אֶל el) and “God” (אֵל El). The hint is that when we dissolve our fear by bringing our awareness to (אֶל el) the fear, that awareness is actually God’s awareness (אֵל El); the duality of bringing “my awareness” אֶל el (to) the feeling, dissolves into the Oneness of אֵל El, the Oneness of God. The Divine Oneness is ever-present as the own “light” of our own awareness. When strong emotions threaten to pull us into contractedness, into “hiding” from ourselves, our deliberate Presence With the the truth of our experience is the ever-available remedy. This practice of Presence With is represented by the letter ח het, which is also the letter for this month of Elul. As it says in the psalm for this month, Psalm 27: אוֹרִ֣י וְ֭יִשְׁעִי מִמִּ֣י אִירָ֑א יְהֹוָ֥ה מָעוֹז־חַ֝יַּ֗י מִמִּ֥י אֶפְחָֽד׃ יְהֹוָ֤ה The Divine is my Light and my Salvation, whom shall I fear? The Divine is my living essence; whom shall I dread? מְרֵעִים֮ לֶאֱכֹ֢ל אֶת־בְּשָׂ֫רִ֥י צָרַ֣י וְאֹיְבַ֣י לִ֑י הֵ֖מָּה כָשְׁל֣וּ וְנָפָֽלוּ׃ בִּקְרֹ֤ב עָלַ֨י When aggressiveness approaches to devour my flesh, tormentors and foes against me, it is they who stumble and fall… - Psalm 27:1, 2 That is, through our recognition of the Divine power of awareness, they “fall” back into the Oneness from which they arise. The shape of the letter Het חis כְּנֶ֙שֶׁר֙ יָעִ֣יר קִנֹּ֔ו עַל־גֹּוזָלָ֖יו – “…like an eagle rousing its nest, hovering over its eaglets” (Devarim [Deuteronomy] 32:11), suggesting the practice of Presence With, of “hovering” over whatever we are feeling, neither trying to escape nor trying to change it; this is meditation. Meditation is the practice of radical acceptance, of Being With What Is. It leads to the recognition of ourselves as awareness, which is our essential life, hinted by the word for Life that begins with ח Het: חַיִים Hayim.
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Torah of Awakening: Parshat Re'eh
Parshah Summary – P’shat
Parshat Re’eh, which means “see,” opens with Moses’ admonishment: “Blessing and curse are before you; choose blessing!” He then reminds them of a ceremony in which the litany of blessings promised to them if they follow the Torah should be proclaimed publicly on Mount Gerizim, and the curses for not doing so on Mount Ebal. Instructions are then given for establishing a Temple, the only place that offerings are to be brought. And while it is permitted to slaughter animals anywhere for meat, the blood may not be eaten. The people are then warned against false prophets, and the identifying signs for kosher animals and fish, along with the list of non-kosher birds (first given in Leviticus 11), are repeated. Moses then reviews tithing of a tenth of the produce, which must be eaten in Jerusalem. In certain years this tithe is instead given to the poor. (This is one of the origins of today’s Jewish practice of self-tithing a tenth of our livelihood for the poor.) Moses then reviews the mitzvah of tzedakah (charity), the obligation to lift up anyone in the community who becomes needy with a gift or a loan. Furthermore, on the Sabbatical year (occurring seven years), all loans are forgiven, and all indentured servants are set free after six years of service. The parshah concludes with the laws of the three pilgrimage festivals – Pesakh (Passover), Shavuot and Sukkot.
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
רְאֵ֗ה אָנֹכִ֛י נֹתֵ֥ן לִפְנֵיכֶ֖ם הַיּ֑וֹם בְּרָכָ֖ה וּקְלָלָֽה׃ “See – I place before you today blessing and curse!” - Devarim (Deuteronomy) 11:26, Parshat Re’eh
There was once a farmer named Moishe, who owned many horses. But, after a series of unfortunate incidents, he lost all of his animals except for one old horse. Then, one day, even his last horse escaped, leaving Moishe with nothing. The villagers came to console him: “Oy Moishe, we are so sorry. What great sin could you have committed to bring this curse upon yourself?” Moishe replied, “Maybe curse, maybe blessing. We don’t know.”
Later that week, just before Shabbos, the horse returned – with an entire herd of wild horses! Moishe’s son was able to move all the wild horses into their fenced field. Instantly, Moishe was a rich man. The villagers returned: “Oy Moishe! What a blessing! Surely you have done some great mitzvah to deserve such a reward!” Moishe just said, “Maybe a blessing, maybe a curse! Who knows?” After Shabbos, Moishe’s son began the task of breaking in the wild horses. While he was working a particularly feisty one, he was thrown and broke his leg. Again, the villagers came: “Oy Moishe, I guess those horses were not such a blessing after all! Now your only son is worthless! How will you get any work done? How could you have brought such a curse upon yourself?” Moishe simply replied, “Well, we really don’t know… maybe it’s a curse, maybe it’s a blessing.” The next day, some Russian soldiers came through the village, drafting all the young Jewish men into the army. But, Moishe’s son was spared on account of his broken leg. Again, the villagers came – “Oy Moishe! Hashem has surely blessed you by causing your son to break his leg!” Where does it end? Of course, we must judge things when necessary. But the humor of the story is the unconscious impulse of the villagers to constantly judge everything that happens, rather than accepting life as it comes. If we are compulsively dragged around by the shifting judgements of our minds, automatically proclaiming everything as either a blessing or a curse, isn’t that itself a curse? הַיּ֑וֹם בְּרָכָ֖ה וּקְלָלָֽה – Today, blessing and curse! In other words, “today” – meaning now – there is the potential for either blessing or curse. How to choose the blessing? אֶֽת־הַבְּרָכָ֑ה אֲשֶׁ֣ר תִּשְׁמְע֗וּ אֶל־מִצְוֺת֙ – The blessing, that you listen to the commandments… On the plain, p’shat level, Moses is simply telling them to follow the commandments so that they can choose blessing. But we can discover a deeper level if we look at the different meanings of the word מִצְוֺת֙ mitzvot, “commandments.” First, this moment in which we find ourselves is itself a “commandment.” Meaning, it is what it is. It has authority. We surrender to this moment or we struggle in vain; this moment has already become what it is. How do we surrender? This brings us to the second meaning of mitzvah, that of “connection” rather than commandment: בֶּן עַזַּאי אוֹמֵר, הֱוֵי רָץ לְמִצְוָה קַלָּה כְבַחֲמוּרָה, וּבוֹרֵחַ מִן הָעֲבֵרָה. שֶׁמִּצְוָה גּוֹרֶרֶת מִצְוָה, וַעֲבֵרָה גוֹרֶרֶת עֲבֵרָה. שֶׁשְּׂכַר מִצְוָה, מִצְוָה. וּשְׂכַר עֲבֵרָה, עֲבֵרָה: Ben Azzai said: Be quick in performing a minor commandment just as a major one, and flee from transgression; for a commandment leads to another commandment, and transgression leads to another transgression; For the reward for performing a commandment is another commandment and the “reward” for committing a transgression is a transgression. - Pirkei Avot 4:2 And the Hasidic master, Rabbi Menachem Nachum of Chernobyl wrote in his Me-or Einayim (“Light of the Eyes,” mid-18th century): אמרו רז״ל: שׂכר מצוה – מצוה. רצונם לומר, שהשם יתברך נתן לנו המצות כדי להידבק על ידיהם בהשם יתברך. וזהו “שכר מצוה – מצוה”, לשון צוותא, דהיינו שנדבק על ידי המצות בהשם יתברך, ואין לך שׂכר גדול מזה: Our Rabbis said: ‘The reward for a mitzvah is a mitzvah.’ This means that the God gave us the commandments so that we might cleave to the Holy Blessed One through them. Thus, the reward for a mitzvah is the mitzvah itself—in the sense of (the similar Aramaic word) tzavta, which means “connection,” hinting that through the mitzvot, one “connects” to the Divine, and there is no greater reward than that… Rabbi Menachem Nachum points out that mitzvah is related to the Aramaic word tzavta which means not “to command,” but “to connect.” And what is the basic means through which we connect with another being? אֲשֶׁ֣ר תִּשְׁמְע֗וּ – that you listen… We connect by listening – as when someone is speaking, we affirm our connection by telling them, “I hear you.” In this way, the verse is telling us: if we want to connect (tzavta) with the “command” of this moment, we must listen – that is, we must be present; this is meditation. הַבְּרָכָ֑ה אֲשֶׁ֣ר תִּשְׁמְע֗וּ – The blessing, that you listen… In other words, if we want blessing and not curse, we must connect with command of this moment – be present with what is, regardless of whether it seems like a blessing or a curse on the surface. Accept the blessing and the curse; that’s the blessing. Prefer the blessing and not the curse – that’s the curse! רְאֵ֗ה...בְּרָכָ֖ה וּקְלָלָֽה – See…blessing and curse!” But in order to do that, we first have to be aware of our situation; we have to see. So while the sense of “hearing” is a metaphor for connecting, the sense of “seeing” is a metaphor for understanding, as in when we “see” that something is the case: “Oh, I see.” Our tendency, however, is to be like the villagers, stuck in the curse of the automatic, unconscious impulse to judge things as either blessings or curses. To go beyond that, we need to see that impulse within, and choose instead to simply listen to the fullness of how it is, without judging, like the wise farmer. And this is the one judgement we should make – the judging of the judge. When we do that, we free ourselves from the mitzrayim (Egypt, narrowness) of the compulsively judging mind. Then, we can respond to each moment as it is, without the excess drama. And this brings us to the third meaning of mitzvot – the plain meaning as God’s “commandments” to us. When we see our own impulses, get free from them, and listen attentively to the fullness of what is now, then we can recognize that we are not something separate from that Fullness; there is One Reality, and we can choose to align our actions can with that Oneness. We can choose to live, imperfectly yet ever-returning, in service of the Whole, through the two core mitzvot: וְאָהַבְתָּ לְרֵעֲךָ כָּמוֹךָ V’ahavtah l’rei-akha kamokha ~ “Love your neighbor as yourself.” This is not merely a mitzvah to have a certain feeling, but to live in communal responsibility toward others: giving of tzedakah (charity), hospitality, visiting the sick, and the many other mitzvot of service. וְאָהַבְתָּ אֵת יְה–וָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ V’ahavtah et Adonai Elokekhah ~ “Love Hashem, your (own, inner) Divinity.” This is not merely a mitzvah to have a certain feeling, but to express love of the Divine through the concrete forms of avodah: prayers and blessings, Shabbat and festivals, Torah study, and the many other mitzvot of Jewish practice. Then, our actions can truly be, however imperfectly yet ever-returning, expressions of God in the world; that is both our true nature and infinitely unfolding potential: to accept how Reality unfolds, and respond with wisdom and love, bringing forth Its potential beauty and harmony, moment by moment.
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"Permeating Presence" Parshat Eikev & Malchut
Parshah Summary – P’shat
The third parshah of Sefer Devarim continues with Moses’ closing address to the Children of Israel, promising them that if (Eikev) they will fulfill the mitzvot, they will prosper in the Land – a “good land, a land with streams and springs and fountains issuing from plain and hill; a land of wheat and barley, of vines, figs, and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey…”
Moses also rebukes them for their failings in their first generation as a people, recalling their worship of the Golden Calf, the rebellion of Korakh and the sin of the spies. But he also speaks of forgiveness and the Second Tablets, instructing them in the core principles of “circumcising the heart,” and the mitzvah to “love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” Moses explains that their forty years in the desert, during which they were sustained with daily “manna” from heaven, was to teach them “that a human being does not live by bread alone, but by all that emanates from God’s mouth does a person live!” Moses describes the land they are about to enter as “flowing with milk and honey,” blessed with the “seven species” – wheat, barley, grapevines, figs, pomegranates, olive oil and dates. He warns them to be aware, lest they become arrogant and begin to believe of themselves that “my power and the might of my hand have gotten me this wealth…”
Torah of Awakening
וְהָיָ֣ה עֵ֣קֶב תִּשְׁמְע֗וּן אֵ֤ת הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים֙ הָאֵ֔לֶּה וּשְׁמַרְתֶּ֥ם וַעֲשִׂיתֶ֖ם אֹתָ֑ם וְשָׁמַר֩ יְהֹ-וָ֨ה אֱלֹ-הֶ֜יךָ לְךָ֗ אֶֽת־הַבְּרִית֙ וְאֶת־הַחֶ֔סֶד אֲשֶׁ֥ר נִשְׁבַּ֖ע לַאֲבֹתֶֽיךָ׃ And it will be if you listen to these discernments and guard them and do them, then Hashem your God will guard for you the covenant and the kindness which was sworn to your ancestors… - Devarim (Deuteronomy) 7:12 Parshat Eikev
Part of the purpose of meditation is to get free from negative thinking. But, there are times when our view of Reality is distorted by positive thinking; for example, when you hear the word, “Nature” – what comes to mind? Most likely, a beautiful forest, a beach, a sunset over the mountains. Probably not the smell of rotting food…but this is too is nature! And yet, we don’t think of stinky, rotting food because, for most of us, it doesn’t invoke that sense of awe and spaciousness that we associate with nature.
And yet, if we bring to mind the inner intelligence of the natural cycles and the roles that microorganisms play as we encounter the stinky rotten food, something shifts. The unpleasant smell is still there, but it lives in a greater context; we can still have that element of awe and reverence, if we remember to evoke it. The same is true of the sacred. When we think of the sacred, an image of burning candles or holy texts may come to mind, because those things help evoke a sense of the sacred. But the sacred is simply the dimension of Being-ness that everything participates in; the sacred is ever-present. Just as in the nature example, we can know this for ourselves, if we remember to become present, to bring ourselves into connection with present Reality, and hence with the Presence that infuses all things. There was once a king who decided to test his subjects, so he had all the riches of his palace brought out into a huge field, while he sat on a raised throne in the center. He invited everyone in the kingdom to come and pick one thing to take for themselves. Droves of people came and wandered around anxiously, trying to decide what to choose. Then, a little old woman made her way through the field and up to the king. “Is it true that we can take anything in the field?” she asked the king. “Yes,” he replied, “everything in this field is available. You just have to decide which one to choose.” “In that case,” said the old woman, “I choose you!” This is our task – to not be distracted by all the seductive things, experiences, or thoughts and feelings that are constantly coming and going, but to see through them all to the underlying Reality – to “choose the King,” so to speak. The message is: all the forms we perceive, all objects, all beings, all perceptions, all feelings, all thoughts – all of it – all are forms of the same One Reality that we call the Divine. The Divine is not remote; it is not somewhere other than Here. All we need do is remember and choose It. וְהָיָ֣ה עֵ֣קֶב תִּשְׁמְע֗וּן אֵ֤ת הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים֙ הָאֵ֔לֶּה... And it will be if you listen to these Mishpatim, ethical principles… At first glance, this verse, with its use of the word mishpatim, seems to be saying the opposite. Mishpatim are ethical laws, grounded in the perspective that there is good and bad, right and wrong – which is in contrast to seeing the Divine in all things, transcending good and bad, going beyond right and wrong. And yet, on a deeper level, there is a hint in this verse of the non-dual, of the realization of the Divine that permeates everything, beyond good and bad: וְהָיָ֣ה עֵ֣קֶב תִּשְׁמְע֗וּן – It will be if you listen… The word עֵקֶב Eikev literally means “heel.” In this context it is understood to mean the word “if,” in the sense of one thing “following on the heels” of another thing, if. The word וְהָיָ֣ה v’hayah means “it will be,” but it is also the same letters as the Divine Name, in a different order: יה – וה yod hei and vav hei. The idea here is that in order for us to realize the underlying Divinity of everything, then even our heels, the bottom and most insensitive parts of the body, must become sensitive to the Divinity that permeates all things. There is a hint in the word Eikev itself: ayin, koof, bet. Ayin means “eye” and indicates seeing, meaning perception. Koof represents kedushah, meaning “the sacred.” Bet is bayit, meaning “house,” indicating form. Thus, within the word Eikev itself is encoded the practice of “seeing” through to the “sacred” dimension which is “housed” in all things. How do we do that? וְהָיָ֣ה עֵ֣קֶב תִּשְׁמְע֗וּן “The Divine is realized by the heel that listens…” In other words, bring awareness into the senses. The s’firah of Presence in form, the Divinity that infuses all things, is called Malkhut, which means “Kingdom” – the tenth s’firah of the Tree of Life. “Kingdom” may have a masculine sound to it, but it’s meaning is actually Sh’khinah, a feminine word which means the Divine Presence, and has been pictured over the centuries as a queen, as a bride, and as a maiden. In this spirit, Malkhut also represents receptivity, as it receives the influx of Divine energy from the other nine sefirot. The message is: all the forms we perceive, all objects, all beings, all perceptions, all feelings, all thoughts – all of it – all are forms of the same One Reality that we call the Divine. The Divine is not remote; it is not “somewhere” other than Here. All we need do is remember and receive It.
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Parshah Summary – P’shat
This second parshah of Sefer Devarim continues with Moses’ monologue to the Children of Israel on the banks of the Jordan. He opens with how he prayed to enter the Promised Land along with them, but instead he was told he must climb a mountain and view the Land from afar before he dies. He then continues telling the story of the Exodus from Egypt and their receiving of the Torah at Sinai, followed by the prophesy that future generations will abandon the Path for “false gods,” leading to the exile and their being scattered among the nations. But, from their exile they will once again seek the Divine and return.
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
וָאֶתְחַנַּ֖ן אֶל־יְהֹ–וָ֑ה בָּעֵ֥ת הַהִ֖וא לֵאמֹֽר׃ ...אֲדֹנָ֣י יֱהֹ–וִ֗ה אַתָּ֤ה הַֽחִלּ֙וֹתָ֙ לְהַרְא֣וֹת אֶֽת־עַבְדְּךָ֔ אֶ֨ת־גׇּדְלְךָ֔ “I pleaded with Hashem at that time, saying, ‘My Lord, Hashem, You have begun to show Your servant Your Greatness…’” - Devarim (Deuteronomy) 3:23, 24 Parshat Va’Etkhanan
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.” What does this story mean? Obviously, the ox is a metaphor for the disciple – and therefore for us. But, the field is also a metaphor for the disciple, otherwise it would be irrelevant. What is this “field” aspect of our being that “bears the harvest” in response to our practice, and yet we may not necessarily be aware of it? There is a hint in the parshah: וָאֶתְחַנַּ֖ן אֶל־יְה–וָ֑ה 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 hasid 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 to Oneness, of finally “arriving.” This verse, then, is actually an instruction – when we feel the angst of life, when we feel like an ox that goes on day after day with the same old routine, we too must not hold back and cry out in prayer. 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” – רַב־לָךְ Rav lakh! Too much of you! – and discover the aspect of our being that is silence – אַל־תּוֹסֶף דַּבֵּר 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 do things, to organize our lives. We even need the ox just to set aside the time for meditation. 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 spiritual goal with our minds, we can understand the concept of enlightenment, 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. This practice of silent seeing is represented by the letter ע ayin. The word “ayin” means “eye”—like the physical eye that sees the world, but on a deeper level, it is awareness itself – the awareness that sees, that hears, that feels; the space of consciousness within which all experience arises. The Zohar teaches that, while God is hidden, God longs to be sought. Just as a child plays hide-and-seek for the sake of being found, the Sacred waits patiently for our seeking. The tricky part is that we don’t find God by seeking outwardly, but by our awareness becoming aware of itself – aware of its own Divinity…
Read past teachings on Va’Etkhanan HERE
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