This year, you may have noticed that Rosh Hashanah fell on Shabbat. Traditionally speaking, shofar is not sounded on Shabbat, which is why Rosh Hashanah is a two-day festival even in Israel; with two days, the shofar will be sounded on at least one of the two. My inclination was to not have shofar in our service this year, but instead to gather the next day in the park and have a little shofar service then, which we did. However, as news of my decision spread throughout the Torah of Awakening service leader world, I heard that someone from our team was not happy. I called Estelle, and I made my case. I told her that I want this Rosh Hashanah falling on Shabbat to feel different, by adding special Shabbat songs and prayers, and making room for them by not having shofar. She expressed that shofar is the most important part of Rosh Hashanah, and that many won’t hear it at all if we don’t do it on the first day. Plus, she said, what’s the problem, since you have musical instruments anyway!
כָּל מַחֲלֹקֶת שֶׁהִיא לְשֵׁם שָׁמַיִם, סוֹפָהּ לְהִתְקַיֵּם. וְשֶׁאֵינָהּ לְשֵׁם שָׁמַיִם, אֵין סוֹפָהּ לְהִתְקַיֵּם Every dispute that is for the sake of Heaven, will in the end endure; But one that is not for the sake of Heaven, will not endure. This was a perfect example of a makhlokhet l’shem shamyim, an “argument for the sake of heaven.” But this makhlokhet was unlike many of the halakhic disputes of the rabbis, in which there are clear winners and losers. For example, the argument between Beit Hillel and Beit Shamai, in which Beit Shamai said we should light all eight candles on the first night of Hanukkah and then light one less for each of the eight days, and Beit Hillel said that we should light one candle the first night, two on the second and so on. Hillel’s view became the common practice, not Shamai’s. But in this case, we compromised. We left shofar out of Musaf so that the davening would feel different for Shabbat, but we brought it back at the end so that anyone who wanted to hear shofar could hear, and anyone who wanted to step out could do so. I felt good about our compromise, not just because it’s good in general to work out our disagreements, but because it points to a deeper level of the halakhic process – the process by which questions of Jewish practice are worked out. After all, what is the point of Jewish spiritual practice? The ordinary understanding is that God gave the Jewish people Torah and mitzvot. Teaching and commandments, and that those are the means through which we can connect with God and fulfill our purpose. The non-religious, secular scholar view, on the other hand, denies the idea of divinely given Torah and mitzvot, and sees Judaism and all religion as an essentially human creation. But this dualism of Divinely given vs. human creation is, in my view, born from an insensitivity to the miracle of the ordinary: Far more extraordinary than the idea of Divine revelation with miracles and pillars of fire, is the simple miracle of two beings having a conversation and resolving a conflict. And on a deeper level, more extraordinary than any holy book is the very fact of our own consciousness, of our own minds as outposts of the Divine mind, manifesting right now in these bodies we inhabit. The duality then is not human creation vs. Divine revelation; it is either being sensitive to the mystery of consciousness as a Divine miracle, or being insensitive, conditioned and unimpressed. In truth, Torah is happening constantly, as the arising of thought within this miraculous field of consciousness that we are. You might disagree, saying that much of what arises in consciousness is not wise or interesting. And it’s true. As I say these words that have arisen within this consciousness that I am, there is, perhaps, some sense of the miracle. But if Buggs Bunny appears in my mind, I dismiss it rather than saying it, even though I just said it. Buggs Bunny doesn’t necessarily point to something sacred or Divine. But, the process of Torah actually includes this process of discernment between Wisdom and Buggs Bunny: סְפוֹג, שֶׁהוּא סוֹפֵג אֶת הַכֹּל. מַשְׁפֵּךְ, שֶׁמַּכְנִיס בְּזוֹ וּמוֹצִיא בְזוֹ. מְשַׁמֶּרֶת, שֶׁמּוֹצִיאָה אֶת הַיַּיִן וְקוֹלֶטֶת אֶת הַשְּׁמָרִים. וְנָפָה, שֶׁמּוֹצִיאָה אֶת הַקֶּמַח וְקוֹלֶטֶת אֶת הַסֹּלֶת: There are four types among those who sit before the sages: a sponge, a funnel, a strainer and a sieve. A sponge, soaks up everything; a funnel, takes in at one end and lets out at the other; a strainer, which lets out the wine and retains the lees; a sieve, which lets out the coarse meal and retains the choice flour. - Pirkei Avot 5:15
This remarkable passage contradicts the traditional idea of the Torah as eternally perfect and whole, which we might see reflected in this Torah passage, in which God says:
אֵ֣ת כׇּל־הַדָּבָ֗ר אֲשֶׁ֤ר אָנֹכִי֙ מְצַוֶּ֣ה אֶתְכֶ֔ם אֹת֥וֹ תִשְׁמְר֖וּ לַעֲשׂ֑וֹת לֹא־תֹסֵ֣ף עָלָ֔יו וְלֹ֥א תִגְרַ֖ע מִמֶּֽנּוּ׃ All of this matter that I command you, you shall guard to do; do not add to it, nor take away from it. - Devarim (Deuteronomy) 13:1
Pirkei Avot seems to be saying that it is up to us to discern which parts of the teaching are good and which parts should be dismissed, while the Torah verse seems to be saying that the Torah is perfect as it was given, and we shouldn’t add or subtract from it. How do we resolve these two verses?
The answer, I believe, is hinted in אֲשֶׁ֤ר אָנֹכִי֙ מְצַוֶּ֣ה אֶתְכֶ֔ם – that I command you. The “you,” meaning we, are part of the process. In other words, our own discernment is the means by which we are “commanded” – we must discern what is truly important – first for ourselves, so that we know what our own values are, and then in dialogue with others, so that we can be in harmony with their values and find a path that serves all to the best of our ability. Once we’ve found that, THEN we must not add or subtract from it – meaning, we must not insist that our way is the only right way, that would be adding, nor must we deny our own values when we confront the strong opinions of others – that would be subtracting. Instead, תִשְׁמְר֖וּ לַעֲשׂ֑וֹת – you shall be attentive to do it. But, of course we can only do this if we purify ourselves to know our own depths and to be in clean relationship with others; this is the meaning of כפרה on this Day of Atonement. Kaparah means making up for something, correcting a wrong, making whole and unifying that which was broken and fragmented. In this sense, the English play on the word “atonement” is appropriate, in which we read “atonement” as “At-One-Ment.” And how do we make at-one-ment? We do it by giving something up, by compromising, by be willing to feel the slight sting of not getting our way completely, in order to avoid the far worse sting of broken relationship. That willingness to feel the slight sting is the kaparah – like the goat sacrifices of the ancient Yom Kippur rite, it substitutes for the brokenness, and heals. Interestingly, another way of saying “substitute” is מְמַלֵא מָקוֹם which literally means, “filling the space.” We avoid the filling of the vacuum created by our misdeeds with disaster by filling it with something else – filling it with dialogue, compromise, or other healers of relationship such as apologies. On the deepest level, our kaparah sacrifice is something we can practice any moment, when we recognize that our minds tend to “fill up the space” of our consciousness with thought. Sometimes that thought is just Buggs Bunny, sometimes it is the channeling of Torah, but if we are to be the student that “retains the choice flour,” we must practice being aware of our own minds, “filling the space” not with always thought, but with Presence, with awareness… Then we can experience מְמַלֵא מָקוֹם – that the whole world is filled with the radiant Mystery of Being that we call the Divine…
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The other day, our cantorial soloist and service leader Renée came to me to discuss a dilemma: she was having trouble with leading the High Holiday prayers, because on one hand, she wants to be authentic, but on the other hand, many of the prayer texts just don’t feel authentic to her. She said that she wants to have integrity as a prayer leader, and not just treat our services as a just another “singing gig.”
I appreciated this so much, and I shared with her that it took me many years for these prayers to feel authentic, and that my process with them involved putting them into my own words and making my own interpretive translations. The key for me has been to try to connect with the prayerful intentions beneath the words. Many of these texts are over a thousand years old, and some of them over three thousand years old. On top of that, reading English translations can sometimes bring up connotations of today’s America brand of fundamentalism, which only adds to their distance. But if we can connect the prayerful impulse beneath the words with our own prayerful impulse, then the ancient words can merge with our own prayerfulness, so that we pray not merely as individuals, but as voices in the chorus of our people and our history. But how do we do that? Ironically, when Renée came to me with her question about how to be authentic, in doing so she was being completely authentic! And what was that authentic impulse? It was to engage in a process of transformation – in this case, to find a way into integrity with leading the prayers. And in a sense, this is really the essence of these High Holy Days: to engage in a process of transformation – to become aware of how we want to change for the better in the coming year. That’s it – if each of us can bring that question into our lives and take steps to effect that transformation for ourselves, then we have done our job. But, in order to ask ourselves the question of how we might change in a true and deep way, we first have to do something even more fundamental: we have to become present with ourselves not as we’d like to be, but as we are. Life is busy and it’s easy to hide from ourselves and live only on the surface of the great Ocean of Being, amidst the movement of the waves of life. If we want to get below the waves into the depths of the Ocean Itself, we need to pause the momentum; we need to stop doing and take some time for just Being; we need to sing, we need to move, we need to contemplate, and on the deepest level, we need silence; we need meditation. This is why the most central practice of Rosh Hashanah does not consist of any of these problematic words; it is simply listening to the sound of the shofar. עָלָ֣ה אֱ֭לֹהִים בִּתְרוּעָ֑ה יי בְּק֣וֹל שׁוֹפָֽר׃ – Alah Elohim b’truah, Adonai b’kol shofar – “Elohim rises up in the blast, Adonai in the voice of the shofar.” These two Divine Names are so instructive: Elohim is plural – literally “gods” – hinting that all the forces of Existence are One Reality, and Adonai is really the four letter Name which means “Existence” or “Being” or “Reality.” Alah means “rises up,” hinting that our experiential sense of the sacred arises out of our connection with Reality – that is, with whatever is present in this moment, when we become present – that is the attentiveness called forth by the sound of the shofar. In this very real sense, “God” is not about believing in some deity. Rather, “God” is a relational word, like “friend” or “teacher.” If someone asked you, “Do you believe in friend?” – that would be absurd. “Friend” is not something to believe in; rather, it describes a certain type of relationship. In the same way, “God” describes a relationship of prayerfulness, awe and reverence that we can have with Reality; not a divine being, but Being Itself. Prayer then, in its truest sense, is a response to our recognition of the sacred. God has gifted us with this moment, with this life – what is our response? When our response includes the aspiration to be co-creators of ourselves, then we tap into the spirit of these holy days. וּלְחַנָּ֖ה אֵ֥ין יְלָדִֽים – and Hannah had no children… - I Samuel 1:2 This is why, in our haftara, Hannah is barren at first, but she longs for a child. When her longing reaches its peak, she expresses her aspiration in prayer. The description of how Hannah moves her lips quietly as she prays becomes the model in our tradition for the Amidah, the most core prayer in our tradition. Then, when her prayers are answered and she conceives and gives birth, she names her son Shmuel, which is Sh’ma – El; meaning, “listens to God” or “God listens.” Either way, it is the God within us, listening to the God all around us, waking up to that impulse of transformation, through us. May we all be inspired and encouraged in our grand pause and coming together (again) to listen…
Read past teachings on Rosh Hashanah HERE.
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Parshah Summary – P’shat
The parshah begins by instructing a ritual of gratitude to be performed when the Children of Israel cultivate the land: the celebrant should put the first-ripened fruits (bikkurim) of their orchard into a basket and bring it to the place where Hashem “chooses” to “make the Holy Name rest.” The celebrant then offers these first fruits, making a declaration of having come out of slavery in Egypt and into the “land flowing with milk and honey.” The celebrant then “rejoices” with one’s family as well as with the “stranger.”
The parshah continues with the laws of tithes given to the Levites and the poor, along with detailed instructions on how to proclaim the blessings and curses on Mount Gerizim and Mount Eival, as discussed at the beginning of Parshat Re’eh. The latter part of Ki Tavo consists of a long, harsh account of the curses—illness, famine, poverty and exile—that shall befall them if they abandon the Torah. It concludes with Moses’ words that “only today,” forty years after their birth as a people, have they attained “a heart to know, eyes to see and ears to hear.”
Torah of Awakening – Jewish Meditation Teaching
וְהָיָה֙ כִּֽי־תָב֣וֹא אֶל־הָאָ֔רֶץ אֲשֶׁר֙ יי אֱלֹהֶ֔יךָ נֹתֵ֥ן לְךָ֖ נַחֲלָ֑ה וִֽירִשְׁתָּ֖הּ וְיָשַׁ֥בְתָּ בָּֽהּ׃ וְלָקַחְתָּ֞ מֵרֵאשִׁ֣ית כׇּל־פְּרִ֣י הָאֲדָמָ֗ה אֲשֶׁ֨ר תָּבִ֧יא מֵֽאַרְצְךָ֛ אֲשֶׁ֨ר יי אֱלֹהֶ֛יךָ נֹתֵ֥ן לָ֖ךְ וְשַׂמְתָּ֣ בַטֶּ֑נֶא וְהָֽלַכְתָּ֙ אֶל־הַמָּק֔וֹם אֲשֶׁ֤ר יִבְחַר֙ יי אֱלֹהֶ֔יךָ לְשַׁכֵּ֥ן שְׁמ֖וֹ שָֽׁם׃ When you enter the land that Hashem your God is giving you as a heritage, and you possess it and settle in it, you shall take some of every first fruit of the soil, which you harvest from the land that Hashem your God is giving you, put it in a basket and go to the place where Hashem your God will choose to establish the Divine Name... - Devarim (Deuteronomy) 26:1-2 Parshat Ki Tavo
Once, when Rabbi Moshe Leib of Sasov was deeply absorbed in the mystical ecstasy of his prayers, he heard a knock at the window. A drunken peasant stood outside and asked to be let in and given a bed for the night. For a moment, the rebbe’s heart raged with anger and he thought to himself, “How can this drunk have the hutzbah to ask to be let into this house!”
But then he said silently in his heart, “And what business does he have to exist at all, when Existence is nothing but the Divine? But if Hashem gets along with this guy and allows him to exist in this world, who am I to reject him?” He opened the door at once and prepared a bed. It is impossible to perceive another person without them casting their image upon our consciousness; every being we meet, every situation and every experience appears to us as forms within our own awareness. To love another being, then, is simultaneously an embracing of one’s own inner depths. On the other hand, negativity toward others is a rejection of the form that our own awareness has taken; we resist not just the other, but the image of the other within, thereby creating an inner split, an experience of “exile,” of being not at home. The more resistance toward others that we accumulate throughout our lifetime, the more inner pain of fragmentation and alienation. It seems this is inevitable, for life tends to give us plenty of material to resist! What to do? Fortunately, the remedy is simple, and we can begin (again) right now. Welcome this moment as the form in which it appears. Whether it be a person, or a situation, or a feeling – it doesn’t matter – the hospitality we express toward the fullness of present experience allows us to be at home with ourselves, now. וְהָיָה֙ כִּֽי־תָבֹ֣וא אֶל־הָאָ֔רֶץ – It will be when you come into the land... While the natural impulse is to resist what we don’t like, creating the sense of “not being at home,” like Israelites wandering the desert, we counteract this כִּֽי־תָבֹ֣וא ki tavo – “when we come in” – that is, when we fully inhabit this moment. The key is כִּי ki: kaf-yud! כִּֽי־תָבֹ֣וא – It will be when you come in… Resistance is born of fear, the instinctual impulse to protect oneself. This is good and necessary, but the side effect is inner exile. To “come home,” we need to transcend the fear – know that you are not the fear. Fully accept it as part of the texture of the moment, without being caught by it; this is כ kaf: “courage.” כִּֽי־תָבֹ֣וא אֶל־הָאָ֔רֶץ – It will be when you come into the land…Then, in order to sustain the sense of Wholeness arising from letting go of resistance, we must rest awareness in the אָרֶץ aretz, in the senses and the physical world, rather than becoming lost in world thought; this is י yud: “simplicity.” וְהָיָה כִּֽי־תָבֹוא – It will be when you come in… Through this “coming in” to the moment and the senses, our inner split is healed, and there can arise the joy of הָיָה hayah, the joy of simply being. יי אֱלֹהֶ֔יךָ נֹתֵ֥ן לְךָ֖ נַחֲלָ֑ה – Hashem your God is giving it to you as a heritage… This moment now is literally our נַחֲלָה nakhalah, our inheritance; it comes to us from the boundless past, as an unearned gift. From the infinite possibilities of what could have been, here we are. This realization is both the spiritual goal and the path: אַחַ֤ת שָׁאַ֣לְתִּי מֵֽאֵת־יי – One Thing I ask of Hashem… We can read this not merely as asking for one thing, but as asking for Oneness itself. From whom do we ask? From Y-H-V-H, which is composed of the same letters as v’hayah וְהָיָה – it will be. Meaning, our “question” that arises from feeling not at home is answered when we turn toward the moment, intentionally of “coming into” our “heritage.” This is teshuvah, “return,” aided by the spirit of ב bet: “welcoming this moment.”
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