Guided Jewish Kabbalah Meditation
Torah of Awakening:
Parshat Ki Tavo
Parshah Summary – P’shat
The parshah begins by instructing a ritual of gratitude to be performed by Israelite farmers who when they enter the Land, settle it and cultivate it: the celebrant should put the first-ripened fruits (bikkurim) of their orchard into a basket and bring it to the place where the Divine “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 the “stranger.” The parshah continues with the laws of tithes given to the Levites and to the poor, and detailed instructions on how to proclaim the blessings and the curses on Mount Gerizim and Mount Eival—as discussed in 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
Two disciples came to Rabbi Dov Ber, the Maggid of Mezritch, with a question: “We are troubled by the teaching of our sages, that one must bless for the evil one experiences as well as the good (Mishna, Berachot, 9:5). How are we to understand this?”
The Maggid replied, “Go to the beit midrash (house of study). There you will find Reb Zusha smoking his pipe. He will give you the answer.” So they went and found Reb Zusha and put the question to him. Zusha just laughed and said, “I think you’ve come to the wrong man. I have never experienced suffering in my life.” But the two knew that Zusha’s life had been a web of need and anguish! Then they understood – Reb Zusha received all that happened to him with a spirit of gratitude. When we hear a teaching like this, we might think it’s telling us to play act. Suffering happens, but we should pretend that it’s “all good” – we should just put on a happy face. But the teaching is much deeper than that, as hinted in the opening words of the parshah: וְהָיָה֙ כִּֽי־תָב֣וֹא אֶל־הָאָ֔רֶץ אֲשֶׁר֙ יְהֹ–וָ֣ה אֱלֹ–הֶ֔יךָ נֹתֵ֥ן לְךָ֖ נַחֲלָ֑ה וִֽירִשְׁתָּ֖הּ וְיָשַׁ֥בְתָּ בָּֽהּ׃ וְלָקַחְתָּ֞ מֵרֵאשִׁ֣ית כׇּל־פְּרִ֣י הָאֲדָמָ֗ה... When you come into 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... - Devarim (Deuteronomy) 26:1-2 Parshat Ki Tavo It goes on to describe the farmer’s ritual of gratitude for the goodness of the land, in which the fruit is brought in a basket to the place which will eventually become the Beit HaMikdash, the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. But on a deeper level, “coming into the land” is a hint – it means coming into the place you already are, coming into the full Presence of whatever is present. We can see this in the first three words: וְהָיָה כִּֽי־תָבוֹא... – It will BE when you come in... Meaning, coming in to the mode of Being. And notice וְהָיָה֙ v’hayah is the Divine Name with the letters in a slightly different order, hinting that we connect with the Divine Presence, יה/וה Hashem, through וְהָיָה v’hayah – through coming into the mode of Being – this is meditation. 4 Our lives consist of both Doing and Being, but we tend to identify with the Doing mode. Doing means “going out” – like last week’s parshah, Ki Tetzei, which means “when you go out.” It’s about reaching toward a goal we imagine in the future. This is how we create and accomplish things, which is wonderful and necessary. But if it is not balanced by the mode of Being, if there is total identification with thought and with Doing, then there is no arrival, no appreciation, no “coming in” – like this week’s parshah, Ki Tavo, which means “when you come in.” וְלָקַחְתָּ֞ מֵרֵאשִׁ֣ית כׇּל־פְּרִ֣י הָאֲדָמָ֗ה... You shall take from the first fruits of the earth… There is a “fruit” that we are reaping right now. That “fruit” is the fullness of this moment; it is the “fruit” of all that has come before. But what is our first fruit? It is, first of all, our relationship with this moment. The moment is complex; it often contains both goodness and suffering. We may have many stories and judgments about it. But before stories and judgments of the mind, there is simply this consciousness, meeting this moment as it is. When we “come into” ourselves, when we return from the journeys of thought into the reality of the present, there is the possibility of realizing: we have the choice to hold this moment in the “basket” of gratitude. This is not a denial of suffering. In fact, it is often thanks to our suffering that we are awakened to those things that truly matter, to the blessings we are constantly receiving but usually taking for granted. How do we do it? וְהָיָה֙ כִּֽי־תָב֣וֹא אֶל־הָאָ֔רֶץ... – When you come into the land… In other words, come into this place that you already are, by connecting your awareness with the אָ֔רֶץ aretz – this earth upon which we live, this body through which we live, and with whatever else happens to be present – this is meditation. In this way we can connect with the Divine Presence that infuses all things: וְשַׂמְתָּ֣ בַטֶּ֑נֶא וְהָֽלַכְתָּ֙ אֶל־הַמָּק֔וֹם אֲשֶׁ֤ר יִבְחַר֙ יְהֹוָ֣ה אֱלֹהֶ֔יךָ לְשַׁכֵּ֥ן שְׁמ֖וֹ שָֽׁם׃… …put it in a basket and go to The Place (HaMakom) where Hashem, your own Divinity, chooses to rest the Divine Name of “Being”... We connect with the Divine Presence by coming to הַמָּקוֹם HaMakom, “The Place,” which is itself one of the Divine Names. Let go of imagined “fruits” in the future; bring your focus to the “fruits” that are present, conscious of HaMakom, the Divine Presence we access through this Place. Then, the choice appears: we too can receive this moment into the “basket” of gratitude; this is the sefirah of Hod. Then, you will be able to say as the ancient farmer said: וַיּוֹצִאֵ֤נוּ יְהֹ–וָה֙ מִמִּצְרַ֔יִם וְשָׂמַחְתָּ֣ בְכׇל־הַטּ֗וֹב... Hashem brought us out of Egypt – rejoice with all the goodness... Hashem brought us out of Egypt – meaning, we are brought out of the contracted bundle of mind-identified ego through Presence and Gratitude. And then you will rejoice with all the goodness – in other words, the fundamental condition for happiness is not “getting” in the future, but appreciating what is already here; when we allow ourselves the space to arrive into this moment and appreciate this gift of Being, we truly can know that this moment is good, and rejoice in That. In this month of return, may we re-turn evermore into the space of Gratitude; may we trust enough to let go and connect with HaMakom the eternal Presence of Being that infuses every moment. This is the sefirah of Hod – the eighth sefirah on the Tree of Life. Hod, which means “splendor” or “magnificence,” shares its root with Hodayah, meaning “gratitude,” and also humility. This is also the root of Yehud, Jew, hinting that the essence of Judaism is relating to this moment as a Divine gift. In the midst of our lives which tend to be focused on pushing toward the future in a momentum of relentless Becoming, Hod comes to remind us of Being, of patience, of recognizing this miracle, and saying “thank you.”
Read past teachings on Ki Tavo HERE
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Guided Jewish Kabbalah Meditation
Torah of Awakening:
Parshat Ki Tetzei
Parshah Summary – P’shat
Parshat Ki Tetzei contains seventy-four of the Torah’s 613 mitzvot. Included among them are the inheritance rights of the firstborn, the law of the rebellious son, burial and dignity of the dead, returning a lost object, sending away the mother bird before taking her eggs, the duty to erect a safety fence around the roof of one’s home, and the various forms of kilayim (forbidden plant and animal hybrids). Also recounted are the laws of having a special place outside the camp for going to the bathroom and covering up one’s waste with earth, the prohibition against turning in an escaped slave, the duty to pay a worker on time and to allow anyone working for you—human or animal— time to eat, the prohibition against charging interest on a loan, the laws of adultery and divorce, and the procedures for yibum (levirate marriage), which is the practice of a man marrying the wife of his deceased childless brother in order to give her children on his brother’s behalf, and halitzah – the ritual of “removing of the shoe” – in the case that the brother-in-law does not wish to marry her. The parshah concludes with the obligation to remember “what Amalek did to you on the road, on your way out of Egypt.”
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
כִּ֤י תִבְנֶה֙ בַּ֣יִת חָדָ֔שׁ וְעָשִׂ֥יתָ מַעֲקֶ֖ה לְגַגֶּ֑ךָ וְלֹֽא־תָשִׂ֤ים דָּמִים֙ בְּבֵיתֶ֔ךָ כִּֽי־יִפֹּ֥ל הַנֹּפֵ֖ל מִמֶּֽנּוּ... When you build a new house, make a parapet (ma-akeh) for your roof, and you won’t bring blood upon your house when one falls from it… - Devarim (Deuteronomy) 22:8, Parshat Ki Tetzei
Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev once came upon a wealthy man in the street who was known to be abusive with his money and power. “Oh, I envy you sir!” said Levi Yitzhak. The rasha (evil person) looked proudly at Levi Yitzhak, thinking that the rabbi wished he too could have all that money and power. But then Levi Yitzhak continued, “I envy you, because when you finally return, when you finally do t’shuvah, all your sins will be transformed into magnificent lights, and what a brilliant spectacle that will be! Oh sir, I envy you that brilliance!” This story brings with it a remarkable insight: that there are times when bad can actually become good, when failure becomes success. There is a hint is the parshah:
The fact that the Torah talks about preventing a person from falling off the roof by building a protective barrier implies that, indeed, people must have fallen off rooves; it was probably the failure to anticipate this danger that led to the law of making a מַעֲקֶ֖ה ma-akeh, or parapet. Similarly, when we become aware of our own misdeeds in the past, we too can build some kind of מַעֲקֶ֖ה ma-akeh, some kind of protective fence to prevent the same thing from happening again. There are two main types of misdeeds: mistakes and temporary insanity. A mistake would be: you’re up on the roof and you’re goofing around, not paying attention, or maybe you just miscalculated your footsteps and you fall of the roof, God forbid. Temporary insanity would be: you’re up on the roof with someone, you get into a fight and push them off the roof, God forbid. You didn’t intend to hurt them; you just got angry and lost control. The מַעֲקֶ֖ה ma-akeh prevents both types of scenarios. Whether accidental or by temporary insanity, the parapet prevents a person from falling. There’s a hint in the wording of the פָּסוּק pasuk: “one who falls” is יִפֹּ֥ל הַנֹּפֵ֖ל yipol hanofel –literally, “will fall, the falling.” The repeating of the verb “fall” is an idiom of emphasis, but also hints that the מַעֲקֶ֖ה ma-akeh can prevent both the accidental and the impulsive falling crisis. Similarly, we too can take measures to prevent ourselves from repeating our misdeeds, whether they be accidental or impulsive. To do that, we need to see our lives clearly, to contemplate, and then to create our own “parapets.” This is the transformative part of t’shuvah, the main practice in this month of Elul, leading to the Days of Awe. There is yet a third kind of misdeed, one that is far more difficult to prevent. This is the misdeed of habit, the misdeed that has become part of one’s personality and lifestyle – such as addiction, relationship dysfunction, abuse, and so on. The more emmeshed we become in the negative behavior, the less likely we are to change it. And yet, we absolutely can change it. This is the deepest and most transformative kind of t’shuvah. These three types of misdeeds – accidental, impulsive and intentional, are three main types of “sins” mentioned in the liturgy: חֵטְא het means “missing the mark,” as in shooting an arrow and missing the target. This is the accident. An עֲבֵרָה aveira is crossing over a boundary impulsively; you accept that there is a boundary, but you become possessed by strong feelings and you violate it. Lastly, an עָווֹן avon is a misdeed that is not a mistake and is not impulsive; it has become part of how you operate. The עָווֹן avon cannot be prevented by any kind of מַעֲקֶ֖ה ma-akeh; you can’t “trick yourself” out of this kind of misdeed. For the עָווֹן avon, you actually have to choose differently; you have to fully transform. These three kinds of “sin” are different from each other, but for a person who wants to become free from them, a single ingredient is needed. Whether we are merely setting a boundary to prevent mistakes and impulsivity, or we are seeking to overcome a deeply ingrained behavior, the root of all transformation on any level is the application of intentional awareness, so that we may return ourselves, that is, do תְשׁוּבָה t’shuvah, back into alignment with our highest intentions; this is meditation. Our highest intentions have their root in the one, single intention of simply being aware, right now. This root intention is represented by the sefirah of Keter. Keter means “crown,” hinting that the intention of Presence is above the rest of our experience. Just as a crown rests above the head, the intention to be aware is all-encompassing, beyond different points of view and opinion, because it is simply the awareness of what is and therefore includes everything in our experience, moment to moment. For this reason, Keter also represents Oneness, because from the perspective of pure awareness, there is always only one experience happening now, within the One Reality that we call God. In this sense, returning to Presence is really a return to God, and constitutes the inner dimension of t’shuvah. So, there are really two levels of תְשׁוּבָה t’shuvah: inner and outer. Outer תְשׁוּבָה t’shuvah, which is returning to intentional action is rooted in the inner תְשׁוּבָה t’shuvah of bringing our awareness out from its compulsive preoccupation with thought (which ordinarily reinforces our habitual patterns), and into our actual present moment experience, into our senses, into our bodies. In doing so, acceptance and forgiveness of the past is natural and spontaneous, as the pain we cause ourselves by holding on to the past becomes obvious to ourselves. And not only that, but the more we bring our attention to this moment, the more we can see that we are the awareness of this moment. We are openness, we are free, and we are in no way trapped by the past or by habit. In Presence, the power to choose reveals itself. Whenever I prepare to travel, I am always amazed that I can draw together the clothing, toiletries, books, computer equipment and so on, and pack them all into a single suitcase. It actually seems miraculous to me, that all these disparate items can come together into a single whole. But miraculous as that is, it is nothing compared to the miracle of Presence: that through the simple shift of opening to the immediacy of actual experience, all the disparate chaos comes together in the “suitcase” of the present moment; in Presence, there is no longer “me” and “that” – there is only the fullness of the what is, in all its richness, arising and falling away in the one field of awareness that we are. As it says in the haftara: בְּרֶ֥גַע קָטֹ֖ן עֲזַבְתִּ֑יךְ וּבְרַחֲמִ֥ים גְּדֹלִ֖ים אֲקַבְּצֵֽךְ... For a tiny moment I forsook you, but with a vast compassion I will gather you together… - Isaiah 54:7 When we “gather together” our awareness into the fullness of the present, there is a vastness and a benevolence – a רַחֲמִ֥ים גְּדֹלִ֖ים rakhamim g’dolim – that is our own nature, revealing all past misdeeds for what they really are: tiny moments of forgetfulness arising and disappearing into the vastness of Being…
Read past teachings on Ki Tetzei HERE
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