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The 18th century Hassidic master, Rabbi Dov Ber, the Maggid of Mezritch, said:
“Nowadays, in this time of exile and great suffering of our people, the Divine Presence is felt much more easily than when the Holy Temple was still standing. How is this possible? “Once there was a king whose realm was conquered by an invading army. The king left the palace and disguised himself as a wayfarer, wandering from place to place in secrecy. In the course of his wanderings, he was recognized by a poor family, still loyal to the king. They invited him into their modest dwelling gave him whatever food they could offer. His heart grew light in their company, and he sat and spoke with them as intimately as he had once done with his inner court. “Now that the Divine Presence is also in exile, She does the same!” Judaism tends to glorify the past and the future; the past was the golden age when the Temple stood in Jerusalem, and the future is the ultimate Messianic redemption to come. This view may have been helpful psychologically during times of great difficulty, boosting self-esteem with stories about the glorious past and giving hope for a better tomorrow. But in the above teaching, the Maggid has taken the opposite approach by telling his students the truth – that the Unbroken Light of Being we call the Divine Presence comes to us most vividly and intimately in the Now. It is true – Judaism tends to emphasize the more normative, time-bound view, but the simple truth of fulfillment in the present is hidden just below the surface. We can see this in the texts of both Yom Kippur and Sukkot. Yom Kippur is considered the holiest day of the year, a time we can become free from all accumulations of past negativity, a time of supreme presence before the One. And yet, on this holiest day of the year, we say this: אֱלֹהַי עַד שֶׁלֹּא נוֹצַֽרְתִּי אֵינִי כְדַאי, וְעַכְשָׁו שֶׁנּוֹצַֽרְתִּי כְּאִלּוּ לֹא נוֹצַֽרְתִּי. עָפָר אֲנִי בְּחַיָּי. קַל וָחֹֽמֶר בְּמִיתָתִי. הֲרֵי אֲנִי לְפָנֶֽיךָ כִּכְלִי מָלֵא בוּשָׁה וּכְלִמָּה. My God, before I was formed, I was unworthy, and now that I have been formed, it is as if I had not been formed. I am like dust while I live, how much more so when I am dead. Here I am before You like a vessel filled with shame.
Sukkot, which comes as the fruit of the freedom and presence attained on Yom Kippur, is z’man simkhateinu – a time of supreme joy and celebration. Like the king’s hosts in the Maggid’s parable, the practice is to dwell in the humble, make-shift hut of the sukkah, within which the Supreme Guest – the Divine Presence Herself – is felt most closely on this harvest festival. And yet, on this most sacred time of fulfillment, we chant this: הֲבֵ֤ל הֲבָלִים֙ אָמַ֣ר קֹהֶ֔לֶת הֲבֵ֥ל הֲבָלִ֖ים הַכֹּ֥ל הָֽבֶל׃ Vanity of vanities! – said Koheleth – Vanity of vanities, all is vanity! מַה־יִּתְר֖וֹן לָֽאָדָ֑ם בְּכָל־עֲמָל֔וֹ שֶֽׁיַּעֲמֹ֖ל תַּ֥חַת הַשָּֽׁמֶשׁ׃ What profit is there for a person in all their toil beneath the sun? רָאִ֙יתִי֙ אֶת־כָּל־הַֽמַּעֲשִׂ֔ים שֶֽׁנַּעֲשׂ֖וּ תַּ֣חַת הַשָּׁ֑מֶשׁ וְהִנֵּ֥ה הַכֹּ֛ל הֶ֖בֶל וּרְע֥וּת רֽוּחַ׃ I observed all the happenings beneath the sun, and I found that all is vanity and striving after wind…
In other words, our individual existence is characterized by imperfection, and the world in which we live is ephemeral, non-substantial, passing. And yet, when we dive fully into this truth without avoidance and without embellishment, we can discover the other side of the equation: the comings and goings of time and the successes and failures of human life dance against the background of Wholeness. That Wholeness is the consciousness that we are, the consciousness that perceives the brokenness; we are the sukkah – the simple open space of this moment, intimate yet infinitely vast and transcendent, the space of welcome to whatever is now arising… וּפְרוש עָלֵינוּ סֻכַּת שלומֶךָ Ufros Aleinu Sukkat Sh’lomekha! Spread over us the Shelter of Your Peace!
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The Dog – Shabbat Sukkot
10/16/2019 0 Comments ה֤וֹרֵ֥נִי יְהוָ֗ה דַּ֫רְכֶּ֥ךָ וּ֭נְחֵנִי בְּאֹ֣רַח מִישׁ֑וֹר לְ֝מַ֗עַן שׁוֹרְרָֽי Reveal to me, Hashem, Your way, and guide me on a straight path, because of my watchful foes. (Psalm 27) In this psalm that is chanted during this holiday season, King David prays to be in alignment with the Divine so that he might merit salvation from his enemies. But this and many other psalms are so universally relevant because they point not only to external foes, but to our inner reality. I once saw a bumper sticker that read, “Don’t believe everything you think.” What a beautifully succinct and useful piece of wisdom! We know that believing in absurdly distorted thoughts is called insanity; we can see when a person is insane, because the reality they describe is completely different from what most normal people would consider to be true. And yet, there is some degree of insanity for most people; when our minds make automatic judgments, we tend to believe our thoughts without question, especially if there is an emotional charge attached to them. In this way, it is our own thoughts that lead us onto a crooked path; it is our own thoughts that become the enemy. וְאַל תָּדִין אֶת חֲבֵרְךָ עַד שֶׁתַּגִּיעַ לִמְקוֹמוֹ Don’t judge your friend until you have reached his place… (Pirkei Avot 2:5) Until you have the same perspective as your friend, says the sage Hillel, you should refrain from judging them… which is really the same as saying that we should never judge anyone, because it is impossible to ever see from someone else’s perspective. This is an amazing statement for a text that is mostly directed toward actual judges! The message is: we must sometimes make judgments, but don’t believe in them as absolute truth. Be open. Let your thoughts be translucent to the light that Reality continuously reveals, and be conscious of the infinite complexity that is not revealed. But if the function of the mind is thought, how can we possibly transcend thought? Rabbi Yitzhak Mer of Ger was once talking to a hasid of Rabbi Simcha Bunam. The hasid said his master once remarked he was amazed that a person wouldn’t become spiritually perfected by merely saying birkat hamazon, the grace after meals. Rabbi Yitzhak thought for a moment and then replied, “I think differently. I am amazed that a person isn’t spiritually perfected merely by eating! After all, a donkey knows its owner.” We may not have so much experience with donkeys, but many of us have experience with dogs – how a dog will run to its owner with love and enthusiasm the moment they walk through the door. How does the dog know the owner is there? Usually all it takes is the sound of the door opening, or the sound of the voice, and the dog comes running. The dog doesn’t want the door or the voice, the dog wants the person; but the sounds are the cue. ה֤וֹרֵ֥נִי יְהוָ֗ה דַּ֫רְכֶּ֥ךָ וּ֭נְחֵנִי בְּאֹ֣רַח מִישׁ֑וֹר לְ֝מַ֗עַן שׁוֹרְרָֽי Reveal to me, Hashem, Your way, and guide me on a straight path, because of my watchful foes. There is profound lesson here for us as well: if we want to run into the arms of the Divine, we too can listen for the cues to tell us which direction to go. Only with us it is even more simple – all we need do is pay attention to whatever is present, to whatever presents itself. And this is the deeper lesson of Reb Yitzhak’s spiritual perfection through eating: it is the realm of the senses that brings us into the arms of the Master, not the realm of language and thinking (though, paradoxically, language and thinking is certainly needed to tell us this!) There is a hint in this week’s reading for Shabbat Sukkot: וַיֹּ֨אמֶר מֹשֶׁ֜ה אֶל־יְהוָ֗ה רְ֠אֵה אַתָּ֞ה אֹמֵ֤ר אֵלַי֙ הַ֚עַל אֶת־הָעָ֣ם הַזֶּ֔ה וְאַתָּה֙ לֹ֣א הֽוֹדַעְתַּ֔נִי אֵ֥ת אֲשֶׁר־תִּשְׁלַ֖ח עִמִּ֑י Moses said to Hashem, “See, You say to me, ‘Lead this people forward,’ but You have not made known to me whom You will send with me….” (Exodus 33:12) Moses is asking, who and where are You, God? How can I know You? God responds by putting Moses in a cleft of rock and then passes by Moses while shielding Moses’ eyes from seeing the Divine directly. After God passes by, the shielding is removed, and Moses sees God’s “back.” וַהֲסִרֹתִי֙ אֶת־כַּפִּ֔י וְרָאִ֖יתָ אֶת־אֲחֹרָ֑י וּפָנַ֖י לֹ֥א יֵרָאֽוּ Then I will take My hand away and you will see My back; but My face must not be seen.” (Exodus 33:23) What is this “back” of God that Moses sees? It is nothing but the world of the senses, the presence of whatever is present. This is the deeper wisdom of Rabbi Yitzhak’s teaching: this moment is grace. You need not even wait until the next time you eat; every moment we are “eating” the air around us. Every moment is grace. But we can only really see this if we come fully to the moment, if we come into the senses, into the body, into our breathing, and out from the world of thought. In this way, our thoughts become like the sukkah – not a solid edifice of assertion, but a framing of a tiny space in the world, a translucent embellishment of the Mystery… The Mouse- Shabbat Sukkot 10/21/2016 4 Comments Once, during the days after Yom Kippur, we suspected that there was a mouse in the house. First, the strange little pieces of refuse that would show up on the floor when we knew we had already swept. Then, the little mysterious scratchy sounds I would hear when I knew everyone else was asleep. But we knew for sure when we found that a bag of leftover hallah had been chewed through. Not knowing how the mouse got in and out, we quickly became much more disciplined about putting all our food away! We could tell the mouse was still coming in, but most of the time there was nothing for it to steal. It wasn’t until Sukkot began, however, that I actually saw it. We were eating in the sukkah, when I went back into the house to get the main course. As soon as entered the back door of our house, I saw the little mouse scurry across the floor and squeeze right through a little opening below a sliding door that goes into the wall. I took some plastic bags and pushed them into the opening to block it, then used duct tape to seal it up. A temporary measure, but the mouse seems to have not returned, leaving the sanctuary of our home free from it for now. But there is another kind of sanctuary- a space in which the heart is free and the mind is clear. That space is a sanctuary from all stress, from all problems, from all tzures. That space is the present moment. It is ever available, and always right here. And yet, the ordinary human mind is unaware of this space. Living life almost entirely through the screen of thinking, this sanctuary is overrun with the “rodents” of thought. Craving some peace, one attempts to put life in order so that the rodents won’t disturb anything too much. Unaware of where the rodents are coming from, all you can do is put the food away so as not to attract them. By “putting the food away” I mean arranging your life to your liking- organizing things so that stress and chaos are kept at bay. This is a wonderful thing. I’ll tell you, our kitchen was never so consistently clean as when that mouse forced us to develop better habits! But once you see where the mouse is coming from, you can seal up the hole at its source. Meaning- once you see that the source of all chaos and worry is your own mind, you can “close the hole” through which chaos and misery enter. Then, you can still clean your kitchen if you want to, but you’re not dependant on it. Meaning- you can organize your life to maximum benefit, but even when life is chaotic externally, even when there is loss, failure and uncertainty, the Sanctuary of the Present is not lost. Your mind can be free from those “rodents” of excess thinking, and in that clarity the Sanctuary reveals itself. And yet, this is still a big secret, even for long-time spiritual practitioners! Many people enter the Sanctuary in their moments of avodah, of meditation, ritual, chanting and so on, but cannot seem to stay connected in the midst of life. In this week’s special reading for Shabbat Sukkot, Moses seems to have this very problem. Moses- the one who speaks to Hashem face-to-face, is afraid that the Divine Presence will not accompany him on his journey of leading the people (Exodus 33:12): “Re’eh Atah omer eilai, ha’al et ha’am hazeh- "See, You say to me, ‘take this people onward’, but You did not reveal whom You will send with me!” Moses is afraid that the One who sends him on his mission will abandon him. What is Hashem’s response? “Panai yelekhu v’hanikhoti lakh- "My Presence will go and give you rest!” The Presence “goes” wherever you go! That’s because the “Presence” is not something separate from your own presence, from your awareness when it is actually present. And when your awareness is present, there is “rest”. The word here for “I will give rest”, hanikhoti, has the same root as the name Noakh, the fellow who built the ark for the great flood. Whether the metaphor is rodents or destructive floodwaters, the idea is the same- there is an ark that floats above the raging waters in which you can find refuge. In the case of Moses and the Israelites, they lived in temporary dwellings on their journeys- the sukkot in which Jews everywhere are now dwelling for this holiday that commemorates the ancient dwellings of the Israelites. The sukkah is a sanctuary, yet it is hardly a solid thing. Open to the sky, vulnerable to the elements, it is really just a frame, not secure at all. And that’s the paradox- that “sealing the hole” and securing your mind from the “rodents” of thought does not mean something hard or effortful. No plastic and duct tape! It means relaxing the mind, allowing the mind to be open to the fullness of what is already present. But still, to do this constantly takes a special kind of effort that eludes most people. So much of the language of prayer is longing for the fruit of this effort! As King David says in Psalm 27: “Akhat Sha’alti me’eit Hashem- "Only one thing I ask of You, Hashem, that I should dwell in Your house and meditate in Your sanctuary all the days of my life!” The Sanctuary of Presence is ever-present, yet it is so easy to block it. Think of this- the sun is 864,938 miles in diameter, yet you can block its view entirely with just your little hand. And yet, even while you are blocking the Presence, the blocking is itself happening in the present! The only thing blocking God, ultimately, is God- as God tells Moses a few verses later (Exodus 33:22): “It will be when My Glory passes, I shall place you in a cleft in the rock and shield you with My hand…” When our fleeting and immaterial thoughts hide the “Glory” of this passing moment, hardening the openness of the present into what feels like a narrow cleft of rock on all sides, remember: Your thoughts themselves are also part of this moment. Accept them with openness and let them pass as well. In accepting and releasing your thoughts, they can dissolve, revealing the open space once again, as Hashem says next: “Then I will remove My hand and you will see my ‘back’…” Meaning, you will see in retrospect that your thoughts blocking the Sanctuary are themselves part of the Sanctuary. They are part of the reality of the present moment. But the more simple and direct path is simply to bring your attention to literally anything physical that is already present. The more you train yourself to do this, the more you will become aware of the space behind whatever is present- the ineffable openness that is the present moment. There is a story of Reb Shneur Zalman of Liadi, that once he asked his son what he “prays with”. The boy answered that he inspires himself with the verse, “Every form shall prostrate itself before You.” The boy then asked the rebbe, “What do you pray with, Abba?” The rebbe answered, “I pray with the bench and the floor.” On this Shabbat Sukkot, may we commit our attention ever more deeply to the bench on which we sit and the floor on which we stand, that we might open ever more deeply to the Sukkat Shalom- the Space of Peace that is this moment in which we now live. Good Shabbos!
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Once, when the Baal Shem Tov was about to enter the synagogue, he stopped at the threshold. Those behind him waited patiently, but after some time passed, one of them politely asked him if he was going to go in.
“I can’t go in,” replied the Baal Shem, “there is no room for me – the entire space is crowded with teachings and prayers. How can anyone enter when there is no space?” They looked at him dumbfounded. Then he continued, “When prayers and teachings don’t come from the heart, but are merely repeated mechanically, they don’t rise to heaven, but rather they fill up the room from floor to ceiling. That is why there is no room for me to enter!” This is the great challenge of any formal spiritual practice, especially Jewish prayer and teaching – that there is a tendency towards verbosity without kavanah, without sacred intention. The approach of the Baal Shem, along with much of the Hassidic teaching that came after him, was to emphasize simplicity and sincerity. While not outright reforming Jewish common practice, the Hassidic teachings and stories counterbalanced it with teachings about simple sincerity over scholarship and formal comformity to the order and texts of the prayers. No time is this problem more apparent than on the High Holy days, when the sheer immensity of the liturgy makes depth and sincerity a profound challenge. There are many external approaches that can be employed to help avoid this pitfall, such as simplifying the liturgy, the use of music and verbal guidance into the inner dimensions of the prayers, and so on. But the one who prays need not be dependent on any of these things; it is within our own power to bring forth the depths of sincerity from our hearts so that our prayers “ascend to heaven,” so to speak. There is a hint in the parshah: כְּנֶ֙שֶׁר֙ יָעִ֣יר קִנּ֔וֹ עַל־גּוֹזָלָ֖יו יְרַחֵ֑ף יִפְרֹ֤שׂ כְּנָפָיו֙ יִקָּחֵ֔הוּ יִשָּׂאֵ֖הוּ עַל־אֶבְרָתֽוֹ׃ Like an eagle who rouses its nest, hovering over its eaglets, spreading its wings and taking them, elevating them on its pinions…
This verse describes the Divine as an eagle, and we as the eaglets; we are lifted up out of our inner bondage by the Divine power. But this Divine power is not only something we may sense gracing us from beyond; it is also the power of our own awareness from within, elevating the “eaglets” of our feelings, our impulses, our longings. According to Hassidic teaching, this happens through the primal emotional energies of ahavah and yirah, love and awe. In fact, these two qualities are imagined as the two wings of a bird; prayer is the bird, and in order for the bird to fly, in order for prayer to ascend, it needs to have both of these qualities. How to we bring forth these qualities from within? There is a message encoded within the Hebrew word for “wing” or “pinion” used in this verse – aver, which is alef – bet – reish. אבר Alef א represents feeling fully; we embody the alef when we decide to unflinchingly experience whatever is present. Be it pleasure or pain, we can be the Oneness behind whatever experience is arising. Bet ב, which means “house,” represents hospitality; it is “inviting the Divine” into whatever feelings are present, recognizing that we can direct our energy toward the Divine, and that the feelings themselves are essentially Divine. Reish ר, which means “head” and also “beginning,” represents That which is beyond thought. We can think about and understand how things work in the world of form, but the “beginning” of all things, the ultimate Reality of Being, is beyond the “head” – it transcends the thinking mind. In the same way, our ordinary, natural feelings can lead us into transcendence of the ordinary, into the Supreme Mystery of ר reish, which is embodied in the word ירא yirah, meaning “awe” or “transcendence.” This happens when when we feel them fully (represented by א alef), and and then direct them toward the Divine (inviting the Divine in, represented by ב bet). Alef and bet, together with ה hei which represents authentic self-expression, form the word אהבה ahavah, “love.” How do we begin? Simple: עַל־גּוֹזָלָ֖יו יְרַחֵ֑ף – hovering over its eaglets… יְרַחֵף – y’rakhef – “hovering” means simply being with experience as it is. Just as an eagle “hovers” – neither landing on the eaglets, which would crush them, nor flying away, which would be abandoning them, but simply hovering, patiently waiting for them to fly on their own. Meaning – waiting for the love and awe to emege in their own time, in their own way. This combination of the two poles of simple, patient waiting on one hand, and aiming toward a goal in time on the other hand, is also the inner meaning of Kaveh, which means both “wait” and “hope.” The last line of Psalm 27 reads: קַוּ֗ה אֶל־יְה֫וָ֥ה חֲ֭זַק וְיַאֲמֵ֣ץ לִבֶּ֑ךָ וְ֝קַוֵּ֗ה אֶל־יְהוָֽה Kaveh el Hashem, hazak v’ya’ameitz libekha; kaveh el Hashem! Wait/Hope for the Divine, be strong and your heart will have courage; have hope/wait for the Divine!
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No Inside or Outside – Sukkot and Parshat Ha'azinu
9/27/2018 0 Comments The realization of your essential nature as simple openness is represented nicely by the sukkah. The sukkah is a structure that has an inside and an outside, and yet the inside really doesn’t feel very different from the outside; it is open and permeable. Similarly, when you recognize yourself as the open space of awareness, your thoughts and feelings come to reflect that openness, becoming permeable like the leaves and branches atop the sukkah. Normally, we tend to feel ourselves as being “inside” our bodies, with the rest of the world on the “outside.” But as we recognize that both “inside” and “outside” appear within awareness, this duality becomes less pronounced, and we can know ourselves as the simple open space within which all opposites arise. How do we do that? There is a beautiful hint in this week’s reading: Parshat Ha’azinu records a song that Moses teaches the children of Israel, so that they may sing it and remember their connection with the Divine. Appearing in the middle of the song are the following words: יְסֹֽבְבֶ֙נְהוּ֙ יְבֹ֣ונְנֵ֔הוּ יִצְּרֶ֖נְהוּ כְּאִישֹׁ֥ון עֵינֹֽו It surrounded him, imbued him with understanding and preserved him like the pupil of Its eye… (Deut. 32:10) Here is the coded instruction for becoming present and awakening to your essential being: יְסֹֽבְבֶ֙נְהוּ֙ – Y’sovevenhu – It surrounded: Surround the fullness of your experience right now with consciousness; let your awareness connect with everything that arises in your field of perception, without pushing anything away. יְבֹ֣ונְנֵ֔הו – Y’vonenehu – imbued him with understanding: Understand that everything you perceive – from sensory impressions, to emotional feelings, to thoughts – are all literally different forms of consciousness. Everything you experience happens within consciousness, and is therefore made out of consciousness, at least within your experience. יִצְּרֶ֖נְהוּ כְּאִישֹׁ֥ון עֵינֹֽו – Yitzrenhu k’ishon eino – and preserved him like the pupil of Its eye:Return yourself repeatedly to knowing that you are consciousness, that you are essentially an open space of awareness, beyond all thoughts and feelings. Just as the pupil of an eye is a simple opening through which light can flow, so too the full spectrum of Reality as you experience it flows through and as the open field of awareness that you are. In this joyful time of Sukkot, may we become like a sukkah; may we invite in the ushpizin(guests) of everything that arises, that we may discover anew and live our nature as the openness of hospitality... Good Shabbos! The Salad- Parshat Ha'azinu 10/13/2016 1 Comment Once, my son told me about a show he saw on food waste. He learned that in our country alone, every person wastes a staggering twenty pounds of food per month! And yet, with a little more consciousness and care, much of the wasted food could be put to good use. To illustrate the point, they assembled a group of folks and served them a gourmet salad. They asked the group to rate the salad, and everyone loved it. Then, they revealed the truth: the salad was made entirely out of food waste! A gourmet chef was given food that is normally considered waste- peelings, stems, stalks and other items that are usually discarded. The food scraps were cut, peeled, marinated, pounded and transformed into something the group perceived to be not only edible, but a unique and delicious gourmet dish. It’s a good thing that the human mind can differentiate between food and garbage, between “wheat and chaff”, between nourishment and poison. But the shadow side to this dualistic thinking is that we tend to develop a rigid narrative about what is good and usable, and what needs to be thrown away. Or, sometimes the opposite happens- Out of fear that something valuable might be lost, some people become hoarders, surrounding themselves with far more junk than they could ever use. But what if the human mind could be flexible enough to fully use whatever is present? Not hoard for another day, and not look at a fridge partially filled with odds and ends and decide, “there’s nothing to eat!” One time, I was away with my son and my wife Lisa was home alone for a few days with our daughter. Lisa thought, “I wonder if I can avoid going shopping and just live off whatever is in the house?” Guess what- she did! No shopping that week. They were fine. When the mind is full of rigid preconceptions, it’s impossible to see the full potential of what is present. But get some space around your thoughts (like send the boys to Arizona!), connect with what is really here in this moment, and new possibilities open up. There are little miracles waiting to happen. But to open up this space and become present, you need to bring together the two opposite poles of your being- consciousness and flesh. Ordinarily, human consciousness tends to congeal into a constant stream of thinking, taking the thinker into all kinds of imagined realities, while the body is left to deal with the here and now. The eyes are looking in the fridge, but the mind is thinking about something else! This week’s reading begins with Moses’ words to the Israelites: “Ha’azinu hashamyaim va’adabeirah- Give ear, O Heavens, and I shall speak- “V’tishma Ha’aretz imrei fi- And listen, O Earth, to the words of my mouth.” The “Heavens” and the “Earth” are metaphors for these opposite polls of our being. When mind is extricated from the relentless narratives of thought and brought into intimate connection with the body, then the mind and body can “listen” together as one. When that happens, the “secrets” that are hidden in plain sight can be revealed. These “secrets” are ever-present, as it goes on to say- “Let my teaching fall like rain, let my utterance flow like dew, like storm winds on vegetation, like raindrops on blades of grass…” Torah is everywhere, soaking everything like rain, blowing through everything as the air we breathe. But to see it, to hear it, you have to open to it. Opening means: there must be an opening in your thoughts, so that your awareness and your body can fully join together. When that happens, there is no more sense of “me” as the thinker and “my body” that “I” inhabit. That separate “I” drops away. There is a hint of this in the concluding verses of the parshah: “Aley el har… ur’eh et eretz… umoot b’har… Ascend the mountain… see the land… and die on the mountain…” “Ascend the mountain” means to rise above your thinking mind. “See the land” means to really see what is right here before you, now. “Die on the mountain” means that when you rise above your mind and yet connect fully with your body, your ordinary thought-bound self can drop away. This is the deepest freedom- freedom from the sense of “me” as a separate entity that is living in “my” body. And when there is no more separate "me", what is left? This can’t really be described, because language itself is rooted in thought, which is the basis for separateness. But there is a hint in this parshah: “He is suckled with honey from a stone, and oil from the hardness of a rock…” In other words, what seemed to be dead is bursting with life. Everything is miraculous, everything is nourishing. Rabbi Moshe Hayim Efraim, the grandson of the Baal Shem Tov, told a story in the name of his grandfather: “Once there was a fiddler who played so sweetly that no one who heard the music could resist dancing. One time, a man walked by a house where the fiddler played and he saw people dancing through the window. He couldn’t hear the music they heard, and so he thought they were madmen, flailing their bodies about tastelessly.” As we approach the joyful and celebratory days of Sukkot, may we hear the music of Existence that plays all around us and within us. May we be like the sukkah- an open form, a beautiful frame, without much differentiation between “inside” and “outside”. And as we leave behind the day of fasting, may we take care to fully use and share what we have, nourishing each other and minimizing our food waste. If you haven’t already, make the fast of Yom Kippur real by donating to your local food bank or other relief organization. Take a moment and give tzeddaka now! Moadim L’Simkha! Good times! love, -brian yosef The Mouse- Shabbat Sukkot 10/21/2016 4 Comments Once, during the days after Yom Kippur, we suspected that there was a mouse in the house. First, the strange little pieces of refuse that would show up on the floor when we knew we had already swept. Then, the little mysterious scratchy sounds I would hear when I knew everyone else was asleep. But we knew for sure when we found that a bag of leftover hallah had been chewed through. Not knowing how the mouse got in and out, we quickly became much more disciplined about putting all our food away! We could tell the mouse was still coming in, but most of the time there was nothing for it to steal. It wasn’t until Sukkot began, however, that I actually saw it. We were eating in the sukkah, when I went back into the house to get the main course. As soon as entered the back door of our house, I saw the little mouse scurry across the floor and squeeze right through a little opening below a sliding door that goes into the wall. I took some plastic bags and pushed them into the opening to block it, then used duct tape to seal it up. A temporary measure, but the mouse seems to have not returned, leaving the sanctuary of our home free from it for now. But there is another kind of sanctuary- a space in which the heart is free and the mind is clear. That space is a sanctuary from all stress, from all problems, from all tzures. That space is the present moment. It is ever available, and always right here. And yet, the ordinary human mind is unaware of this space. Living life almost entirely through the screen of thinking, this sanctuary is overrun with the “rodents” of thought. Craving some peace, one attempts to put life in order so that the rodents won’t disturb anything too much. Unaware of where the rodents are coming from, all you can do is put the food away so as not to attract them. By “putting the food away” I mean arranging your life to your liking- organizing things so that stress and chaos are kept at bay. This is a wonderful thing. I’ll tell you, our kitchen was never so consistently clean as when that mouse forced us to develop better habits! But once you see where the mouse is coming from, you can seal up the hole at its source. Meaning- once you see that the source of all chaos and worry is your own mind, you can “close the hole” through which chaos and misery enter. Then, you can still clean your kitchen if you want to, but you’re not dependant on it. Meaning- you can organize your life to maximum benefit, but even when life is chaotic externally, even when there is loss, failure and uncertainty, the Sanctuary of the Present is not lost. Your mind can be free from those “rodents” of excess thinking, and in that clarity the Sanctuary reveals itself. And yet, this is still a big secret, even for long-time spiritual practitioners! Many people enter the Sanctuary in their moments of avodah, of meditation, ritual, chanting and so on, but cannot seem to stay connected in the midst of life. In this week’s special reading for Shabbat Sukkot, Moses seems to have this very problem. Moses- the one who speaks to Hashem face-to-face, is afraid that the Divine Presence will not accompany him on his journey of leading the people (Exodus 33:12): “Re’eh Atah omer eilai, ha’al et ha’am hazeh- "See, You say to me, ‘take this people onward’, but You did not reveal whom You will send with me!” Moses is afraid that the One who sends him on his mission will abandon him. What is Hashem’s response? “Panai yelekhu v’hanikhoti lakh- "My Presence will go and give you rest!” The Presence “goes” wherever you go! That’s because the “Presence” is not something separate from your own presence, from your awareness when it is actually present. And when your awareness is present, there is “rest”. The word here for “I will give rest”, hanikhoti, has the same root as the name Noakh, the fellow who built the ark for the great flood. Whether the metaphor is rodents or destructive floodwaters, the idea is the same- there is an ark that floats above the raging waters in which you can find refuge. In the case of Moses and the Israelites, they lived in temporary dwellings on their journeys- the sukkot in which Jews everywhere are now dwelling for this holiday that commemorates the ancient dwellings of the Israelites. The sukkah is a sanctuary, yet it is hardly a solid thing. Open to the sky, vulnerable to the elements, it is really just a frame, not secure at all. And that’s the paradox- that “sealing the hole” and securing your mind from the “rodents” of thought does not mean something hard or effortful. No plastic and duct tape! It means relaxing the mind, allowing the mind to be open to the fullness of what is already present. But still, to do this constantly takes a special kind of effort that eludes most people. So much of the language of prayer is longing for the fruit of this effort! As King David says in Psalm 27: “Akhat Sha’alti me’eit Hashem- "Only one thing I ask of You, Hashem, that I should dwell in Your house and meditate in Your sanctuary all the days of my life!” The Sanctuary of Presence is ever-present, yet it is so easy to block it. Think of this- the sun is 864,938 miles in diameter, yet you can block its view entirely with just your little hand. And yet, even while you are blocking the Presence, the blocking is itself happening in the present! The only thing blocking God, ultimately, is God- as God tells Moses a few verses later (Exodus 33:22): “It will be when My Glory passes, I shall place you in a cleft in the rock and shield you with My hand…” When our fleeting and immaterial thoughts hide the “Glory” of this passing moment, hardening the openness of the present into what feels like a narrow cleft of rock on all sides, remember: Your thoughts themselves are also part of this moment. Accept them with openness and let them pass as well. In accepting and releasing your thoughts, they can dissolve, revealing the open space once again, as Hashem says next: “Then I will remove My hand and you will see my ‘back’…” Meaning, you will see in retrospect that your thoughts blocking the Sanctuary are themselves part of the Sanctuary. They are part of the reality of the present moment. But the more simple and direct path is simply to bring your attention to literally anything physical that is already present. The more you train yourself to do this, the more you will become aware of the space behind whatever is present- the ineffable openness that is the present moment. There is a story of Reb Shneur Zalman of Liadi, that once he asked his son what he “prays with”. The boy answered that he inspires himself with the verse, “Every form shall prostrate itself before You.” The boy then asked the rebbe, “What do you pray with, Abba?” The rebbe answered, “I pray with the bench and the floor.” On this Shabbat Sukkot, may we commit our attention ever more deeply to the bench on which we sit and the floor on which we stand, that we might open ever more deeply to the Sukkat Shalom- the Space of Peace that is this moment in which we now live. Good Shabbos!
Integral Kabbalah for the Days of Awe
Class #10: HESED – Lovingkindness Adon HaSlikhot ![]()
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אָ֠נֹכִי עֹמֵ֨ד בֵּין־יְהוָ֤ה וּבֵֽינֵיכֶם֙
I stood between the Divine and you…
In this verse, Moses is recounting to the Israelites how, when they all stood at Sinai, he mediated between the Divine and the people. But the early Hassidic master, Rabbi Yekhiel Mikhal of Zlotchov, had a novel interpretation of this verse: he taught that the “I” is what “stands” between us and the Divine! In other words, it is the sense of “me” as a separate entity, and particularly the asserting of the “I” that acts as a barrier, preventing connection with the Divine Oneness. On the other hand, for one who offers their “I” to the Divine, there is no barrier; as the verse from Shir Hashirim says: אֲנִ֤י לְדוֹדִי֙ ודוֹדִ֣י לִי I am my Beloved’s and Beloved is mine…
This “offering” of the “I” is an aspect of meditation. In our practice, we begin by offering our awareness to the Divine as It manifests in and as this moment, invoking the quality of Hesed (Lovingkindness) from within as a quality of Presence. The verse above is also associated with the month of Elul leading up to Rosh Hashanah, as the initials of the verse spell Elul: אֲנִ֤י לְדוֹדִי֙ ודוֹדִ֣י לִי אלול This framing of Elul (the month leading up to Rosh Hashanah) as a time of intimate connection with the Divine as “Beloved” forms a counterpoint to the traditional imagery of Rosh Hashanah, which describes the Divine as a lofty king who sits in judgement. The Hassidic teaching bridges these two opposite images; when we offer ourselves to the Divine in attentive surrender to the present moment as it is, relating to Reality as “king” and “dethroning” our own “I” (ego), there can then arise a sense of intimacy with the Presence that is ever-present, and Being Itself becomes the Beloved. Then, from this sense of Divine intimacy, there can also arise the realization of reciprocity: Not only do we offer our “I” to the Divine, but the Divine has already offered Its “I” to us! Meaning – this consciousness that we are is nothing but the “I” of Existence Itself, awake in this body, as our own awareness. In this way, our expression of Hesed toward the Divine leads to our realization that we have been the recipients of God’s Hesed all along. This realization is expressed in the mishna: הוּא הָיָה אוֹמֵר, חָבִיב אָדָם שֶׁנִּבְרָא בְצֶלֶם. חִבָּה יְתֵרָה נוֹדַעַת לוֹ שֶׁנִּבְרָא בְצֶלֶם, כִּי בְּצֶלֶם אֱלֹהִים עָשָׂה אֶת הָאָדָם שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר He (Rabbi Akiva) used to say: “Beloved are human beings for they were created in the Divine image. Extra beloved that it was made known to them that they are created in the Divine image! As it is said: ‘for in the image of ELOHIM, humanity was made.’”
בְּצֶלֶם אֱלֹהִים – Betzelem Elohim – in the image of God – meaning not that God looks like a person, because God is by definition beyond form, but rather that we give an image to Divine, because we are not separate from the Divine; the Divine manifests as us. This is the great Hesed of simply being that we are constantly being blessed with. But it an even greater Hesed that we can realize and appreciate this simple fact! There is a hint about this in the parshah: וַיֵּ֖לֶךְ מֹשֶׁ֑ה וַיְדַבֵּ֛ר אֶת־הַדְּבָרִ֥ים הָאֵ֖לֶּה אֶל־כָּל־יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃ Moses went and spoke these things to all Israel…
In Kabbalah, the Divine Name associated with Hesed is the Name EL: אל EL is such an interesting Name because it has several different meanings. In this opening verse of Parshat Vayelekh, EL happens three times. First, it appears as part of the word eleh, which means “these.” Second, it appears as its own word, meaning “to.” Third, it appears as part of the word YisraEL, Israel, meaning “one who strives for/wrestles with EL/God.” אֵ֖לֶּה – eleh – “these” אֶל – El – “to,” but also “God” יִשְׂרָאֵֽל – Yisrael – one who “strives for/wrestles with God” This, then, is Moses’ hidden esoteric message, embedded in the language itself: “All of these (Eleh) beings who strive for God (Yisrael), are already not separate at all from God (El)!” In this time of Elul, may we come to recognize and know ever more deeply the Beloved Presence as our own Essence, and see that Essence in every being that we encounter in this coming year… Amein.
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Land of Life – Parshat Vayelekh
לולא הֶ֭אֱמַנְתִּי לִרְא֥וֹת בְּֽטוּב־יְהוָ֗ה בְּאֶ֣רֶץ חַיִּֽים Had I not trusted that I could see the Divine Goodness in the land of the living… (Psalm 27:13) Once, Rabbi Yitzhak Mer of Ger was riding in a carriage with one of his hasidim. As the carriage crested over a steep hill, the horses were spooked by something and took off wildly down the dangerous slope. The hasid was terrified for his life, and as the carriage raced toward certain destruction, he nearly fainted with fear. In the frenzy, he happened to look over at his rebbe, who seemed completely calm and undisturbed in the midst of it all. Barukh Hashem, as they came to the bottom of the hill, the driver got control of the horses and slowed them back down to a safe speed. After some time had passed and the hasid recovered from his shock, he asked his rebbe: “How is it possible that you seemed to be not the slightest bit scared back there??” Rabbi Yitzhak replied, “One who is aware of the Constant Danger is not disturbed by the many dangers of the moment…” What is this “Constant Danger” that renders all other dangers powerless? It is simply the ordinary condition of mind that makes possible the perception of danger in the first place: the sense of “me” that prefers this over that, that prefers a nice gentle ride in the carriage over getting hurled around by reckless horses. In moments of inner stillness, the ego can relax, leaving only the fullness of Presence without that sense of “me” as something separate from that fullness. This is the טוּב־יְהוָ֗ה Tuv Hashem – Divine Goodness; we can partake of this Goodness right now, in the חַיִּֽים אֶ֣רֶץ eretz hayim – the land of the living – it is not in some afterlife, but available now! At first, transcendence comes at particular moments, after which you return to a more ego-based state. But with time, the practice will bear fruit, and the “going out” and “coming back” becomes more and more slight. There’s a hint of this in the parshah: וַיֹּ֣אמֶר אֲלֵהֶ֗ם בֶּן־מֵאָה֩ וְעֶשְׂרִ֨ים שָׁנָ֤ה אָנֹכִי֙ הַיּ֔וֹם לֹא־אוּכַ֥ל ע֖וֹד לָצֵ֣את וְלָב֑וֹא He said to them: One hundred and twenty years I am today; it is not possible anymore to go out and come back… (Deuteronomy 31:2) Moses is speaking to the people, telling them that he is old; he must step down from leadership and prepare for death. But the deeper hint is the death of the ego after many years of practice – לֹא־אוּכַ֥ל ע֖וֹד לָצֵ֣את וְלָב֑וֹא lo ukhal od latzeit v’lavo – it is no longer possible to go out and come back. That’s the state of Reb Yitzhak Mer. This may seem like an unattainable goal, but the truth is that if we’re concerned about ourselves reaching that goal, we are only reinforcing that “me” that wants to achieve something. Rather, practice out of love for the teaching and the possibility; practice because it is a privilege to practice. Know: Presence is what you are; practice being with this moment as it is, even if the coming and going seems to have no end in sight: אָנֹכִי֙ הַיּ֔וֹם – Anokhi Hayom – I am, today! Don’t be concerned about “getting there” but also don’t give up trying to get there! That’s the paradox: “surrender” and “will” in one. “Surrender” without “will” simply destroys the path, but “will” without “surrender” prevents it from ever beginning. But, when they come together, transformation is not only possibly, it is guaranteed. This is hinted at in the final line of Psalm 27, by the word kaveh. Kaveh can mean “hope” but it can also mean “wait.” These are, in a sense, the opposite of each other: To hope means to reach after the future, to base your existence in the present on something that you wish will come later – this is “will.” Waiting, on the other hand, has the connotation of patience, of being here with this, content to allow the future to come when it comes – this is “surrender.” When you’ve got them both, you have an aim, but the aim is the dropping of the “me” that has the aim. In this way, ego becomes your ally in transcending yourself… קַוּ֗ה אֶל־יְה֫וָ֥ה חֲ֭זַק וְיַאֲמֵ֣ץ לִבֶּ֑ךָ וְ֝קַוֵּ֗ה אֶל־יְהוָֽה Kaveh el Hashem, hazak v’ya’ameitz libekha; kaveh el Hashem! Wait for the Divine, be strong and your heart will have courage; have hope for the Divine! Our Loss is Our Gain – Parshat Vayelekh 9/13/2018 0 Comments I spoke to a woman once who had recently lost her husband. In her grief she confided in me that the most painful part was not that her husband had died – he had lived a good life and death is natural, after all – but that she didn’t fully appreciate him while he was alive. In his death, she was finally appreciating him so deeply, but now he was gone. Why don’t we appreciate what is here now? Why does it take death to open our hearts? The irony is that the past is always dead, but we hold on to it, and the holding on itself is what creates this separation from the preciousness that’s here now. But, if we bring ourselves to realize that the past is dead, that the only preciousness there is resides now in this moment, we can use the power of death to awaken. This week’s reading, Parshat Vayelekh, begins with Moses telling the Israelites before he dies: הַיֹּ֔ום לֹא־אוּכַ֥ל עֹ֖וד לָצֵ֣את וְלָבֹ֑וא Today it is no longer possible for me to go out and come back… For many, connection with Reality, with the Divine, with the Space of this moment, is something one visits occasionally, perhaps only by accident. But for a few, the Divine becomes the central guiding Reality, the Place one returns frequently every day. For these few practitioners, the drama of “going out” and “coming back” can feel very pronounced, since one really wishes to stay there all the time. But there is a later stage where the going out and coming back ceases. This is NOT because one simply stays in some static Divine consciousness all the time, which is impossible, but rather because one is no longer so concerned about the “me” that comes and goes. The Divine becomes one’s center of attention, so that even when one’s attention wanders from the Divine and then returns, it is the Divine that matters – not the “me” that wandered and returned. This is similar to death, in that the attachment to one’s self and life drama comes to an end: Today, meaning in the Reality of the Present, it is no longer possible to be concerned about the “me” that “goes out” and “comes back”… The Maggid of Metzrich taught that this opportunity of these High Holy Days: to consciously let the “me” die, and let the force of this death blast our hearts open like the shofar to receive the fulness that is always present, and also to open to the full potential for the future, unburdened by any clinging to the past. That’s why we have to forgive each other, and even more importantly, forgive ourselves. In this way, our loss is our gain. Rather than be in regret that we didn’t appreciate something or someone enough in the past, we consciously feel both the pain and the relief of letting go, and come now to arrive in the present. On these Days of Return, may we all be helped to make the Divine our center, so that the going out and coming back starts to pale in comparison… Live From Your Depths- Parshat Vayelekh 10/6/2016 6 Comments Once, my wife and mother-in-law were giving a bath to our three-year-old daughter. A few minutes after she got in the water, she looked up and said, “Um, could you guys please put some toys in here so I don’t have to play with my feet?” The mind loves things to play with. As children we call those play objects toys. As adults, we have different names for them, but they are essentially the same. They are stimulation. They are external content that we become fascinated with. We don’t want to just “play with our feet,” or even worse, have nothing to play with at all. What could be worse for a child than to have to sit still, be quiet and do nothing? The mind craves and needs stimulation. For children, this stimulation is essential for the healthy growth of their brains, and so stimulation must be almost constant. But at some point, that changes. At some point, you might notice: all the stimulation, all the thinking, all the experiencing, wonderful and essential as they are, can be like the flaming sword of the keruvim, guarding the entrance to Gan Eden- the entrance to paradise. At some moment, and maybe that moment is now, you notice: There is an inner depth so vast, so beautiful, so alive, if you would only put down your toys and open to it. That vastness is your own inner Divinity- Eloheikhem- it is awareness meeting the truth of the present moment- Eloheikhem Emet. But many people never discover this, and remain identified and entangled in the noise of mental toys, in the mind’s perpetual narratives. This creates an experience of separateness, of craving for the wholeness that is actually there all along, beneath the mind. That craving can lead to great inner disturbance, and ultimately, all of the horrors that still plague humanity. What is the remedy? In the Talmud, Rabbi Levi Bar Chama says in the name of Rabbi Shimon Ben Lakish that when you feel yourself gripped by unwholesome motives, you should study some Torah (Berakhot 5a). In other words, study some spiritual teaching that puts you in touch with your inner Divinity, just like you are doing right now. For the aim of spiritual teaching is not just to convey information, it’s to awaken your higher potential. But, if that doesn’t work, he says to chant this verse: “Sh’ma Yisrael Hashem Eloheinu, Hashem Ekhad- "Listen Israel, Existence Itself is your own inner Divinity; there is only One Existence.” In other words, stop and become aware that God is not something “out there” or separate. All you need do is “listen” because this moment is nothing but God, if your thinking mind would relax. And if that doesn’t work, there’s one more trick: Think of your own death. The irony of children is that, on one hand, they are such bright little explosions of life, free and unencumbered by the heaviness that so many adults carry around with them. And, at the same time, they are so utterly obsessed with things that are really trivial, as anyone knows who has had to negotiate “sharing toys” with three-year-olds. But as adults, despite the years of psychic crust we accumulate in our nervous system, there is this tremendous opportunity for depth when we let go of everything. That is the contemplation of death. We will all die, but we can die before we die, surrendering into the reality of this moment, letting go of the story of “me”. This week’s reading begins shortly before Moses’ death: “Vayelekh Moshe- "Moses went and spoke these words... ‘Hayom lo ukhal…’- ‘today it is no longer possible for me to go out and come in…’” When you live on the surface, in the mind’s narratives, there is this sense of “me” going here and there, doing this and that. But in hayom- in the “today”- there is no longer a “me” coming and going. In the present, you live from your depths that are far beyond your personal story. This is the death before you die. It is said that a heavenly voice told the Baal Shem Tov he would be denied life in the World to Come for some small sin he committed. When he heard this news, he jumped for joy and danced. “Why are you so happy?” said the heavenly voice. “Because now I can serve God for its own sake, without ulterior motive.” In these days of teshuvah, leading to Yom Kippur- The Day of At-One-ment, may our commitment to live from our depths become ever more deep, and may that depth be revealed in our thoughts, words and actions. May we speedily see a day when all of humanity lives and loves from its true depth and potential! Good Shabbos, and g’mar hatimah tovah- May you be inscribed for all good things! -b yosef
Integral Kabbalah for the Days of Awe
Class #9: Gevurah – Strength Unetaneh Tokef ![]()
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There are many Names of the Divine, but in the Torah, there are two that are most prominent. The first is Elohim, and the second is Yod – Hei – Vav – Hei, or Hashem:
י–ה–ו–ה ,אלהימ The Name Elohim is often associated with nature and Divine Might. We see this at the very beginning of the Torah, in the act of creation: בְּרֵאשִׁ֖ית בָּרָ֣א אֱלֹהִ֑ים אֵ֥ת הַשָּׁמַ֖יִם וְאֵ֥ת הָאָֽרֶץ׃ In the beginning of Elohim creating the heavens and the earth… - Genesis 1:1 Ancient peoples saw the forces of nature as powerful gods, also called elohim, and they rightly saw themselves as at the mercy of these gods. This is probably the origin of ritual sacrifice – the desire to appease the nature gods and gain their favor through sacrificial offerings. Corresponding to these two Names, there were two major theological innovations the Torah brought into the world. The first was to use the word for these nature gods, elohim, to address the singular God, Elohim. The genius was that by using a plural word to describe the singular God, it expresses the idea that the One God is not the only god or even the most powerful god, but rather that the One God includes all the other gods; the One God is One because It includes everything – no thing is separate from It. The second innovation was that unlike the nature gods who were appeased by sacrifices, this singular God is “appeased” by kindness. This new vision of the Divine as having a core ethical dimension is expressed in the Torah through the second Name, Hashem. We can see this in the story of Noah’s flood: וַיַּ֣רְא יְהוָ֔ה כִּ֥י רַבָּ֛ה רָעַ֥ת הָאָדָ֖ם בָּאָ֑רֶץ וְכָל־יֵ֙צֶר֙ מַחְשְׁבֹ֣ת לִבּ֔וֹ רַ֥ק רַ֖ע כָּל־הַיּֽוֹם׃ Hashem saw how great was human wickedness on earth, and how every desire of the thoughts of his heart nothing but evil, all day long. וַיִּנָּ֣חֶם יְהוָ֔ה כִּֽי־עָשָׂ֥ה אֶת־הָֽאָדָ֖ם בָּאָ֑רֶץ וַיִּתְעַצֵּ֖ב אֶל־לִבּֽוֹ׃ And Hashem regretted making the human on the earth, and His heart was saddened. - Genesis 6:5-6 Not only is Hashem concerned with ethics, but Hashem has a heart that can be sad! But then, when the Divine carries out the destruction of humanity through the power of nature as the “great flood,” the Name switches back to Elohim: וַיֹּ֨אמֶר אֱלֹהִ֜ים לְנֹ֗חַ קֵ֤ץ כָּל־בָּשָׂר֙ בָּ֣א לְפָנַ֔י כִּֽי־מָלְאָ֥ה הָאָ֛רֶץ חָמָ֖ס מִפְּנֵיהֶ֑ם וְהִנְנִ֥י מַשְׁחִיתָ֖ם אֶת־הָאָֽרֶץ׃ Elohim said to Noah, “The end of all flesh has come before me, for the earth is filled with violence because of them; and behold, I am about to destroy them with the earth. - Genesis 6:13 So, while Elohim is associated with nature and might, Hashem is associated with the heart, with goodness, and compassion. Eventually, after the flood relents and Noah builds an altar, Hashem reappears: וַיָּ֣רַח יְהוָה֮ אֶת־רֵ֣יחַ הַנִּיחֹחַ֒ וַיֹּ֨אמֶר יְהוָ֜ה אֶל־לִבּ֗וֹ לֹֽא־אֹ֠סִף לְקַלֵּ֨ל ע֤וֹד אֶת־הָֽאֲדָמָה֙ בַּעֲב֣וּר הָֽאָדָ֔ם כִּ֠י יֵ֣צֶר לֵ֧ב הָאָדָ֛ם רַ֖ע מִנְּעֻרָ֑יו וְלֹֽא־אֹסִ֥ף ע֛וֹד לְהַכּ֥וֹת אֶת־כָּל־חַ֖י כַּֽאֲשֶׁ֥ר עָשִֽׂיתִי׃ Hashem smelled the pleasing aroma, and Hashem said in His Heart, “Never again will I doom the earth because of man, since the desires of the human heart mind are evil from their youth; nor will I ever again destroy every living being, as I have done. - Genesis 8:21 In Kabbalah, Elohim is associated with the sefirah of Gevurah, Strength, and Hashem is associated with Tiferet, Beauty, which is itself associated with Rakhamim, Compassion, as well as Emet, Truth. Of course, these two Names are aspects of One Reality. We can see this most clearly in what happens next in the Noah story, because the promise that Hashem makes requires the power of Elohim to carry it out: וַאֲנִ֕י הִנְנִ֥י מֵקִ֛ים אֶת־בְּרִיתִ֖י אִתְּכֶ֑ם וְאֶֽת־זַרְעֲכֶ֖ם אַֽחֲרֵיכֶֽם׃ “I now establish My covenant/brit with you and your offspring to come… וְלֹֽא־יִכָּרֵ֧ת כָּל־בָּשָׂ֛ר ע֖וֹד מִמֵּ֣י הַמַּבּ֑וּל וְלֹֽא־יִהְיֶ֥ה ע֛וֹד מַבּ֖וּל לְשַׁחֵ֥ת הָאָֽרֶץ׃ … … never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth.” אֶת־קַשְׁתִּ֕י נָתַ֖תִּי בֶּֽעָנָ֑ן וְהָֽיְתָה֙ לְא֣וֹת בְּרִ֔ית בֵּינִ֖י וּבֵ֥ין הָאָֽרֶץ׃ I have set My rainbow in the clouds, and it shall serve as a sign of the covenant/brit between Me and the earth. So, in order for the Rakhamim, the Compassion of Hashem to manifest, it needs to be allied with the Gevurah, the Strength of Elohim, through the concept of brit – covenant, commitment, promise, oath, or pact. Applied practically to ourselves, this means we need the inner strength of Gevurah, the commitment not to be taken over by reactive forces within ourselves, to channel the Rakhamim/Compassion of Tiferet. The pure reactive Gevurah energy can be powerfully destructive, as in the story of the flood. But we can use that energy against itself, through the aid of making a brit – making a commitment to bring forth our potential for Rakhamim. There is a hint in the parshah: אַתֶּ֨ם נִצָּבִ֤ים הַיּוֹם֙ כֻּלְּכֶ֔ם לִפְנֵ֖י יְהוָ֣ה אֱלֹהֵיכֶ֑ם רָאשֵׁיכֶ֣ם שִׁבְטֵיכֶ֗ם זִקְנֵיכֶם֙ וְשֹׁ֣טְרֵיכֶ֔ם כֹּ֖ל אִ֥ישׁ יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃ You stand this day, all of you, before the Hashem your Divinity—your tribal heads, your elders and your officials, all the men of Israel… לְעָבְרְךָ֗ בִּבְרִ֛ית יְהוָ֥ה אֱלֹהֶ֖יךָ וּבְאָלָת֑וֹ אֲשֶׁר֙ יְהוָ֣ה אֱלֹהֶ֔יךָ כֹּרֵ֥ת עִמְּךָ֖ הַיּֽוֹם׃ …to enter into the covenant (BRIT) of Hashem your Divinity, and with its oaths (ALAH) which Hashem your Divinity seals with you this day… אלה – ALAH is an interesting word; it can mean “oath,” but also “curse,” as well as “to lament” or “mourn.” (As in the curse that will come if you violate the oath, causing you to lament and mourn!) But, it also means “goddess,” as well as “club/bat/cudgel,” hinting again at the old and mighty nature deities. Lastly, it also means “these” – eleh. The Zohar says that eleh (“these”) refers to the sefirot, which can be incorrectly interpreted to be separate deities. As a remedy to this dualistic view, the Zohar recommends a practice of inquiry in which one asks the question, mi? meaning, “who?” Through the asking of “who,” we can come to realize the inner identity of all “these” different forces – eleh combines with mi, and becomes Elohim – “these” is revealed as One Reality. This is the essence of the brit of the Torah, to know the One, and not see Reality as merely a collection of separate entities. But what does this really mean for us? It means not living from ego, which is psychological identification with separateness. It means accepting Reality as it happens and living in loving service of the One, which is present manifest in and as all beings. But to do this, we need to be committed to it; we need to tap our inner Gevurah in order to overcome the forces of ego. How do we do that? First and foremost, we have to be committed to it. We have to make an inner brit (covenant), an inner alah (oath), to be conscious and not be taken over by the forces of separateness. Then, we must constantly remember our ALAH (oath) to know that ELEH (these) are really ELOHIM (One Reality that includes all plurality), and that if we forget this and worship the ELEH instead, this will only create ALAH (suffering) for ourselves. This is teshuvah, returning to the One that is ever-present, returning to the Divine Compassion of our heart and the Divine Strength of our will to bring It forth…
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Repairing the Road – Parshat Nitzavim
9/25/2019 0 Comments This past Sunday, my son and I drove up from Tucson to the Bay Area – about twelve hours of driving. Toward the end of the journey, it was getting late – I wasn’t sure if I could make it. It was around 12:00 am, and I wanted to push through. But the next thing I knew, the 75-mph traffic began getting slower and slower, eventually came to a complete stop before resuming at a barely moving pace. After nearly an hour we came to the reason – workers were repairing the road. Of course, like all things, the road wears out; the pavement chips, breaks, and becomes dangerous. Like everything, it needs to be repaired. And so it is with us as well. It’s inconvenient to the pace that we’re accustomed to; we have deadlines, we have places to go. Oh the places we want to go! Our consciousness becomes accustomed to pointing toward the future; our thoughts and feelings tend to be directed at where we are going. This is natural and necessary to a degree, but if we are always barreling forward at 75 mph, we miss out on the actual nature of our consciousness; we miss out on the depths of who we are, beneath all those directional thoughts and feelings. We may sometimes have a temporary sense of “arrival,” but then it’s back to moving again, back to the next imagined end-point. One problem with this is that over time, the road breaks down! Meaning, the movement of life leaves us injured and scarred. This too is fine and natural – but we need to slow down regularly, and even come to a complete standstill, so that the “workers” can make the tikun in our souls and bring us back to the Wholeness that we are, beneath all experience. אַתֶּ֨ם נִצָּבִ֤ים הַיּוֹם֙ כֻּלְּכֶ֔ם לִפְנֵ֖י יְהוָ֣ה אֱלֹהֵיכֶ֑ם You stand today, all of you, before Existence, your Divinity… Atem nitzavim hayom – You stand today – that is, come to a “standstill,” today – meaning, in the present… Kulkhem – all of you – that is, with your whole being; it’s not about merely sitting and be still physically. “All of you” means bring thought itself to a standstill… Lifnei Hashem Eloheikhem – before Existence, your Divinity – that is, become aware of the underlying Being-ness before you, and know that it is not separate from the Divine consciousness that you are… This Rosh Hashanah, may we renew our commitment to our avodah, to being nitzavim and coming to a “standstill” hayom – today and everyday. Let us make space for the Divine healer inherent within our own Being-ness to repair the “pavement” of our nervous systems, so that we can experience and embody the Wholeness that are beneath it all– amein. Listen and Reveal – Parshat Nitzavim 9/6/2018 1 Comment This week’s reading is Parshat Nitzavim, which means “standing.” It begins with Moses telling the Children of Israel about all the blessings that will come from following the right path, as well as the curses that will come from following the wrong path, and that in fact they will follow both right and wrong paths. But eventually, after all these ups and downs, this beautiful line describes what will happen next: וְשַׁבְתָּ֞ עַד־יְהוָ֤ה אֱלֹהֶ֙יךָ֙ וְשָׁמַעְתָּ֣ בְקֹלֹ֔ו You will return to Existence, which is not separate from your own inner Divinity, and you will begin to listen to Its Voice… This prediction applies to each one of us; we can ask ourselves right now: Ad matai? How long will I remain preoccupied with the dramas of life with all its ups and downs, before I Return? Behind all spiritual practices lies this one simple move– return to Reality, return to this moment. If you want to be free, if you want to realize your nature as wholeness, as peace, as joy, then be as the nitzavim – take your stand in your actual experience as it is, right now, being the space of awareness within which life unfolds. Be Present. But if it’s so simple, why doesn’t everyone realize this right away? Because the vast and infinitely superior reward that comes from Return to Presence is not always readily apparent. For many people, a whole lot of suffering has to come first before one is really motivated to find another way. Before that, Presence is meaningless. So the real question is, have you suffered enough yet? How long until you Return? And that’s where faith comes in. Return now; listen to the Voice of Reality as it speaks in this moment, and you may not feel anything special. Awakening comes when it comes, as an act of Grace. That’s why it says a few verses later: וּמָ֨ל יְהוָ֧ה אֱלֹהֶ֛יךָ אֶת־לְבָבְךָ֖ And Existence, which is your own inner Divinity, will circumcise your heart… We don’t “circumcise” our own hearts; the dropping away of all separation and the realization of peace and wholeness as your own nature comes to us by Grace. But we canprepare ourselves for it, we can open ourselves to it. And that’s what Teshuvah, Return to Presence, is all about. But if you need a dramatic experience to convince you, you might give up before your practice bears fruit. So please, have faith and keep at it! A disciple of Reb Mordechai of Lekhovitz had a business partner who was a mitnagid, an opponent of the Hassidic way. The disciple kept urging his partner to come see his master, Reb Mordechai, but his partner obstinately refused again and again. One day, when they happened to be in Lekhovitz on business, the partner allowed himself to be persuaded and agreed to go to the rebbe’s house for a Shabbat meal. During the meal, the disciple saw his partner’s face light up with joy. When he asked him about it later, his partner said, “When the rebbe ate, he looked as holy and radiant as theKohen Gadol – the High Priest – must have looked, making offerings in the ancient Temple!” Later, the disciple went to his master, troubled in spirit, and asked his rebbe why his friend who hated the hasidim had such a wonderful experience on the first encounter, while he had not. The master replied, “The mitnagid must see, but the hasid must have faith! May we have the strength and faith to keep at our teshuvah, to return more deeply and frequently to Presence, and may this year bring new and unique opportunities to craft the vessels of our lives into conduits for the Divine Grace that yearns to get our attention.Amein, Good Shabbos! Can't Stand It? Parshat Nitzavim 9/28/2016 6 Comments What happens when you can't stand something? Ordinarily, there is a sense of "me" and the thing or person you "can't stand." Reality is split in two, and there is tension, contraction, stress. How do you rise above this tension? The Parshah begins: "Atem nitzavim hayom kulkhem... "You all stand together today... from your hewer of wood to your carrier of water... to pass into the covenant...״ What is a covenant? A covenant is a special, intentional connection between two beings- a coming together of two, rather than a separation and tension. How do you connect with the Divine? Nitzavim Hayom- Stand today- meaning, take your stand in this moment. When you "stand" your head is raised up- meaning, you can see all that is below- your body, your feelings, your thoughts. Use your head to be aware of yourself in this moment, rather than spinning off into judgments, fantasies, and opinions about what you can't stand! Instead, take your stand in this moment. From your hewer of wood to your carrier of water- It doesn't matter what your identity is, what roles you play, what your opinions are. On the level of awareness, we are all the same transcendent presence. Then it says: "L'ma'an hakim ot'kha hayom- "In order to establish you today..." That is, establish yourself in the present moment! Make Presence a way of living, not merely a technique or occasional practice. When your presence burns brightly like the sun, far above your opinions and yet intimately aware of them, then the One Being looks through your eyes, seeing Itself everywhere. Then there is no longer "you" connecting with "God," but there is simply Being, shining forth from everything. From that state, the love and wisdom to make peace and "stand with others" becomes available... Watch Me Ney Ney?? Parshat Nitzavim 9/9/2015 8 Comments Last week I took my 3-year-old girl and nine-year-old boy out for dinner, along with my son’s nine-year-old friend. As we sat in the vegan Japanese restaurant waiting for noodle soups and avocado rolls, the friend was singing some popular song, trying to get my daughter to sing along and do the dance moves that apparently went with it. “Watch me whip! Watch me ney-ney!” he sang, showing her how to wave her arm in a certain way that I assume is from a video he saw. I had never heard the song before, and something about the way he was doing the arm wave and singing “watch me ney-ney” seemed a little off to me. I don’t want to say it sounded obscene, but not knowing what “ney-ney” meant, I was suspicious. Was this appropriate for a three year old? I wasn’t comfortable with it, so I told him to please stop. The next day, I went to pick up my daughter from her Jewish preschool. When I got there, all the kids were being led in a dance by their teacher. What was the dance? “Watch me whip! Watch me ney-ney!” The song blasted from the stereo and all the kids were doing the moves. I couldn’t believe it. Apparently her teacher thought the song was perfect for preschoolers! Later on, I told my wife the story and we laughed so hard. The next day, she told the whole story to the teacher, who also laughed and said, “Yeah I thought the song was a little strange too, but I learned it from the Rebbetzen- the rabbi’s wife!” Our narratives about reality are not the same as actual reality. Was the song appropriate or inappropriate? We had different narratives about it, but I still have no idea what "nay nay" means. Similarly, we have all kinds of narratives about who we are and who other people are, but ultimately they are just stories, mental fabrications. The roles we play, the scripts we run, the functions we fulfill, are not what we actually are. So what are we? This week’s reading opens with Moses’ words to the Children of Israel: “Atem nitzavim hayom- You are standing today…” He then goes on to describe all the different identities of the people who are “standing”: the heads of the tribes, the elders, the officers, the men, the women, the children and the stranger, ending with the sweepingly inclusive description- “…meikhoteiv eitzekha ad sho’eiv meimekha- From the hewer of your wood to the carrier of your water.” In other words, all the different identities are standing together. What does it mean to “stand today”? It means to take your stand in the present. When you stand in the present- awake, still, and attentive- all of your identities and roles are temporarily suspended. When you stand in the present, you are pure potential, pure aliveness, a field of awareness encompassing a human form. Why are they standing today? It goes on to say, “L’ovrekha bivrit Hashem Elohekha- To cross over into the covenant of Being, which is your own Divinity…” All identities, in the end, are just roles, just stories. It doesn’t matter if you are a hewer of wood or a carrier of water. When you simply stand, you stand as Being, as the Divine Being that you are. I remember one time a visiting rabbi came to our shul and gave a talk for a Shabbat service. When he stood up to talk, he first stood in silence. He looked around the room, making eye contact with everyone. The silence was powerful, and lasted about 3 or 4 minutes. Finally, he began to talk. His teaching was very good, but the truth is, it was nothing compared to his silence. When he stood in silence and connected with everyone in the room one by one, there was a shift. That ineffable quality of being- the quality that some call “Divine”- was palpable. The roles we play, on the other hand, have the potential to divide us. Our roles can create competition. Our stories can become arguments over who is right, over who has the “truth”. The solution? Stand together. We need not get rid of our roles, but we do need to choose roles that express our basic oneness, our inner Divinity. But to do that, we need to be committed to it. That’s the brit, the covenant. Commitment to transformation, to truly embody who you want to be, may seem difficult. But, as the Torah reminds us later in the same parshah, “Ki karov eilekha hadavar me’od- this matter is very near to you- b’fikha uvilvavkha la’asoto- in your mouth and in your heart, that you may do it.” A shopkeeper once complained to Reb Moshe of Kobrin that his neighbor, who sold exactly the same goods as he did, always made a killing, while customers just passed on by his shop. “I can promise big profits to you, too,” said the tzaddik, “but only on the condition that when you see your neighbor doing well, you must thank Hashem for his success. Something like this- Thank God for the rich livelihood of my neighbor! "It may be difficult to say this wholeheartedly at the beginning, but as you train your mouth to say the words, in time they will find their way into your heart as well- until in fact you will be saying them with all your heart. "For, in the verse- ‘in your mouth and in your heart, that you may do it’- we first find ‘in your mouth’, and only after is it written ‘in your heart.’” If you want your life to express your inner Divinity, rather than merely repeat old scripts and narratives, it’s important to consciously construct your narratives- don’t let them construct you! Choose who you want to be, write it down and repeat it often. And, to tap into the transformative power that makes this possible, you must go beyond all narrative, and stand in the silence of pure potential. That’s meditation. As we come into Shabbat Nitzavim, the Sabbath of Standing, and then into the New Year beginning Sunday night, may we renew our connection with the Divinity of Being. May we “crown” Reality as “King” over all our mental narratives. May we know ever more deeply the sweetness and bliss of what we truly are, and the power and potential of what’s possible when we stand together. L’shanah tovah tikatevu- May you be inscribed for a good year- And may you consciously inscribe yourself as an expression of your deepest potential! love, brian yosef |
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