אֵ֚לֶּה תּוֹלְדֹ֣ת נֹ֔חַ נֹ֗חַ אִ֥ישׁ צַדִּ֛יק תָּמִ֥ים הָיָ֖ה בְּדֹֽרֹתָ֑יו אֶת־הָֽאֱלֹהִ֖ים הִֽתְהַלֶּךְ־נֹֽחַ
These are the offspring of Noah; Noah was a righteous person; he was perfect in his generation; Noah walked with the Divine. The word for “perfect” is tamim, which comes from tam, meaning “simple,” as in the “simple son” of the Passover Seder. In that context, tam doesn’t seem to be a positive thing, at least on the surface; the tam is normally thought of as someone without much intelligence. But in his commentary on Deuteronomy 17:13, Rashi says, Kol mah sheyavo eilekha – all that comes to you – kabel b’timimut – accept with simplicity. This “simple acceptance of whatever comes to you” is the deeper level of being tamim. On the surface, it resembles being unintelligent – isn’t it stupid to “simply accept” bad things? But this misunderstanding of acceptance makes the common mistake of forgetting to include oneself in “what happens.” Of course, “what happens” includes what we do; it’s not only “what happens” outside ourselves. So, being tamim doesn’t mean passively resigned to whatever happens; it means being present with what happens. There is a hint of this in the word טעם which has the same sound as תם – tam, and means “taste” – to be tamim means to “fully taste” the present moment, to be intimately connected with whatever is present. And, this connection with our situation includes what we do about the situation. For example, if we accept and “fully taste” a situation that is causing suffering, then that naturally leads us to a response aimed at relieving the suffering. That’s why this pasuk doesn’t only say that Noakh was tamim, it also says he was an ish tzaddik – a “righteous person.” Presence is Acceptance and Love in One. Another hint of the this comes from the unusual form of the pasuk: אֵ֚לֶּה תּוֹלְדֹ֣ת נֹ֔חַ – Eleh toldot Noakh, Noakh – These are the offspring of Noah, Noah… The name Noakh actually means “comfort” or “ease.” The fact that the word Noakh is repeated hints at two kinds of ease: ease within oneself (accepting what happens with simplicity, being tamim), and bringing easefulness to others (love, righteousness, being a tzaddik). There’s a wonderful mishna that expresses this idea: הֵם אָמְרוּ שְׁלשָׁה דְבָרִים. רַבִּי אֱלִיעֶזֶר אוֹמֵר, יְהִי כְבוֹד חֲבֵרְךָ חָבִיב עָלֶיךָ כְּשֶׁלָּךְ, וְאַל תְּהִי נוֹחַ לִכְעֹס. וְשׁוּב יוֹם אֶחָד לִפְנֵי מִיתָתְךָ They said three things: Rabbi Eliezer said: Let the honor of your friend be as dear to you as your own, and don’t easily become angry. And, return one day before your death. (Pirkei Avot 2:15) These three aphorisms are all connected: if you want to make the honor of your friend be as dear to you as your own honor, you’ve got to get free from your own anger, because it is anger that causes us to be callous toward others. Furthermore, there is a funny play on words here: v’al t’hi noakh likh’os – don’t be easeful/comfortable (noakh) to get angry. If we want to be like Noakh, if we want to be easeful, accepting what is (tamim) and we also want to be a helpful person to others (ish tzaddik), then we should not be noakh likh’os – easy to anger. But how do we do this? וְשׁוּב יוֹם אֶחָד לִפְנֵי מִיתָתְךָ – V’shuv yom ekhad lifnei mitatkha – Return one day before your death. On the surface it’s saying we should “repent” every day, because we don’t know what day we will die. But on a deeper level, this is the “death” of everything extraneous to this moment; it is the death of anger, of worry, of overthinking. We achieve this “death” through shuv yom ekhad – returning to this one day – meaning, returning to this moment. But to do this means learning to distinguish between being Present and being lost; between the truth of this moment and the mental projections we impose on this moment. This is a constant effort of discernment: אֶת־הָֽאֱלֹהִ֖ים הִֽתְהַלֶּךְ־נֹֽחַ Noah walked with the Divine. The Divine Name here is Elohim, the Name associated with discernment. Our natural tendency is to become absorbed into our own thinking and then see the world through the lens of our minds. To counter this, we must constantly “walk ourselves back” to the truth of our actual experience, into the Divine Presence that is always present…
Free Weekly Live-Streams:
Experience our growing community Here.
More on Parshat Noakh...
Snake and Scorpion – Parshat Noakh and Rosh Hodesh Heshvan
10/9/2018 0 Comments The Amidah is the central prayer of Jewish practice. It is believed to be so sacred that, traditionally speaking, one should not allow oneself to be interrupted while praying the Amidah. However, there are certain circumstances under which one must interrupt one’s Amidah prayer for specific reasons. In the Talmud (Berakhot 33a), there’s a discussion about when it is permissible and even mandatory to interrupt one’s praying of the Amidah: אפילו נחש כרוך על עקבו לא יפסיק: אמר רב ששת לא שנו אלא נחש אבל עקרב פוסק We learned in the mishna that even if a snake is wrapped around one’s heel, one may not interrupt one’s prayer. In limiting application of this principle, Rav Sheshet said: They only taught this mishna with regard to a snake, as if one does not attack the snake it will not bite him. But if a scorpion approaches an individual while one is praying, one stops, as the scorpion is liable to sting even if it is not disturbed. There is a Hassidic teaching that the “snake” and the “scorpion” are actually metaphors: The snake represents desire and passion, while the scorpion represents the opposite: lifeless apathy. So, when it says that the “snake is wrapped around one’s heel,” this alludes to one being disturbed by thoughts and feelings of desire. For example, you’re trying to focus on the holy words of the prayer, and suddenly you’re salivating for a cheeseburger. In this case, there’s no need to stop davening, because the desire you feel for the cheeseburger isn’t a bad thing; all you have to do is redirect its energy into the prayer. In fact, the desire is actually a wonderful gift, because it is raw energy that you can use to bring the prayer to life. On the other hand, if a scorpion starts crawling on you, this means the opposite of passion; you are simply saying meaningless words with no life in them. In that case, you should stop the prayer, do something to awaken your passion, and start over again. But how do you awaken your passion? Of course, there are many ways, but here is one that I find helpful: do something to create beauty and order in the world. Paint something. Make some art. Organize your closet. Vacuum the rug. Do the dishes. When you do, you will feel empowered by the force of blessing can comes through you, and you can direct the energy of that blessing into your practice – into your prayer, chanting, or meditation. The reason this is so powerful is because beauty and order are actually qualities of Presence. When consciousness is cluttered, the radiant beauty Being can get covered up somewhat. But the more you come to this moment with openness, the more your consciousness becomes more and more expansive and free. Then, your inner beauty begins to glow its own brightness. Sometimes, however, the ambient chaos (and sometimes trauma) of life can keep that beauty stifled on the inside, even when you attempt to become present through meditation or prayer. Then we need an extra boost from the outside; we need to take some physical action. This is the secret of how art becomes ritual – do something on theouter level to create an effect on the inner level. There’s a hint of the power of beautification in this week’s reading, Parshat Noakh: יַ֤פְתְּ אֱלֹהִים֙ לְיֶ֔פֶת וְיִשְׁכֹּ֖ן בְּאָֽהֳלֵי־שֵׁ֑ם … May God expand Yaphet, and may he dwell in the tents of Shem… Bereisheet/Genesis 9:27) This verse is part of a blessing that Noakh gives his son Yafet after the famous flood. The name Yafet means beauty, or expansiveness. The words are: Yaft Elohim l’Yafet –meaning, May the Divine expand Expansiveness, or May the Divine beautify Beauty. This hints at the secret of how beauty becomes revealed: Consciousness contains the quality of beauty, but this inner beauty is easily obscured from itself. So, consciousness externalizes its beauty through action, and this outer beauty reflects the nature of consciousness back to itself, freeing it from its constraining clutter: The Divine expands Its Expansiveness… This week begins the new moon of Heshvan, the eighth month. Heshvan is associated with water and rain, since the traditional prayers for rain began a week ago. Heshvan is also the month in which the flood began, according to this week’s Torah reading. In Kabbalah, water is often associated with awakening passion and desire, since water causes seemingly dead things to sprout and grow. Heshvan is also associated with the Zodiac sign of Scorpio – the sign of the scorpion. Thus, Heshvan is a time to shift from the inner beauty accessed during Tishrei (through the prayers of the High Holy Days and Sukkot) to outer beauty through action, in order to reveal the inner beauty externally. This in turn further awakens the inner beauty, creating a positive pulsation between the inner and the outer… The Ark- Parshat Noakh 11/3/2016 1 Comment The world is a river; you cannot hold a river. The world is a wave, but we see it as particles. Forever the mind is building arks to float upon the churning ocean of Truth, Holding frames of changing being above the morph so as to discern a narrative- The arks- words! The tzaddik’s naming of beings saves them from dissolution in God; The tzaddik gives full attention to the being beheld, while all else drowns (for now) in the One. Two by two- one being beholds another- But when the ark is beached on the dry wasteland of things and agendas, the tzaddik cannot function! S/he must plant a vineyard in the midst of the wreckage and take refuge in the wine of ecstasy- That is, withdrawal from time into the Place where prayer erupts. To others s/he looks naked and dysfunctional- useless. “Let’s cover up this embarrassment!” People are more comfortable with the building of great towers so they can say, “Look what we have done!” Not content with the warmth (Ham) of life, they must make a name (Shem) for themselves, claiming authorship of beauty (Yafet). Have you forgotten how to let go? To behold the one who stands before you and let all else drown in the One? Don’t grasp for the spotlight, you will find everyone speaking gibberish. But relax and take a walk with God~ God will show you how to construct your words, and illuminate them from above… The Window- Parshat Noakh 10/15/2015 8 Comments Recently a friend of mine posted a tragic news story on Facebook, in which some horrible violence was done in the name of religion. My friend was so disturbed by it, he said that religion should be destroyed. The Torah might agree- This week’s reading begins with the story of Noah’s ark, and how nearly all life was destroyed in the Great Flood due to the corruption and violence of humanity: “Vatimalei ha’aretz hamas- “The earth was filled with violence…” (Gen. 6:11) But is religion really the source of the corruption and violence today? Or is there something deeper that infects and corrupts religion? One thing is for sure: All premeditated violence springs from a particular story that the perpetrator buys into. Without the story of how the “other” deserves punishment for being immoral, or is guilty of various crimes, is less than human, or whatever, would it be possible for premeditated violence to exist? Of course, there are many wonderful things created by the narrative-making mind as well. In fact, without the fiction of mental narrative, you would not know what to do when you wake up in the morning. You would not even know your own name. The problem is not narrative, but the confusion between narrative about reality and actual Reality. That confusion happens because most of us are almost completely unaware of what Reality actually is. Without awareness of Reality, you are bound to look for Truth in your stories. But your stories, though they may be more or less accurate, are not the same as Truth. What is Truth? Truth is simply this moment. It’s your reading of these words right now. It’s the breathing movement of your body, right now. A feeling arising, a thought occurring- it’s the ever-evolving fact of this moment. “Vay’hi khol ha’aretz safa ekhat ud’varim akhadim- “And the whole earth was of one language and unity between all things…” (Gen. 11:1) In the present moment, before the mind splits Reality into pieces, there is only one this, and we are all here in this Oneness. In the present, there is no that. But in our thirst for purpose and understanding, we tend to multiply our thoughts and ignore Reality. Not content with the Mystery, we want to feel like we know something, like we’re getting somewhere, like we have meaning: “They said to one another, ‘Come, let us make bricks and burn them in fire.’ And the bricks were like stone…” The word for “brick”- “L’veinah”- shares three letters with the verb “to build” (Bet-Nun-Heh). The first two letters, Lamed-Bet, spell Lev, which means “heart”, or “mind”. The “Bricks”, then, are not just physical bricks. They are the building blocks for the stories we hold in our hearts and minds- namely, our thoughts and words. Our thoughts and words are the most precious expression of our inner life. They form the landscape of who we are. But when they substitute for Reality rather than point to it, when we become enflamed with a passion for being “right” rather than being open, they burn like fire and are dense like stone. Exiled from the present moment by our multiplying of thoughts and words, we hope to find security by building our thoughts and words into towers of narrative: “Come, let us build a tower with it’s top in the heavens, and let’s make a name for ourselves…” The word for “top” here is “rosh” which also means “head”. The word for tower is “migdol” which comes from the root that means “great”. We try to capture the Ineffable Greatness with our heads! But there is a problem: there is no limit to the number of different and conflicting stories we create. Sometimes I listen to people debate. I will listen to the conservatives and the progressives. I will listen to the theists and the atheists. Almost invariably, there is an unwillingness to hear the valid points of the other. Real communication is rare; it’s all just opposing stories, babbling at one another. “Hashem said, ‘Let us confuse their language’... that is why it was called Babel…” But there is another way. In the beginning of our parshah, we are introduced to the savior of all life: “Et HaElokim Hit’halekh Noakh- “Noah walked with the Divine…” The name Noakh comes from the root that means “rest”. It has a passive quality. And yet, this kind of rest is in motion; it “walks”. The mind grasps after something solid, something static and secure, but the Divine (Truth, Reality) is not something static. The present moment is ever flowing, ever in motion. It cannot be made into a tower, an idol, or an edifice. So to “walk with the Divine” is actually to rest the grasping of the mind and relax into the movement of the present. After all, as soon as your mind tries to grasp this moment as something solid, the moment is already being washed away. The flood is constantly coming. What will save us? Only the quality of Noakh- the one who can rest into the flow of Reality. “Make an ark of gopher wood…” The word for “ark” is “teva”, which also means “word”. A word is a representation of something; it’s not the thing itself. So to rest in the flow of Reality, make your words of wood, not stone. Let them be alive, supple. “A window you shall make from above…” Let your words be open to the heavens, rather than trying to reach the heavens. Your mind cannot capture the infinity of the heavens! But relax your mind open to this moment, and let the inspiration flow downward. Like the rains of the flood, inspiration washes away the old and dead towers of thought, but gives life to the mind that is open like a window. The Kotzker Rebbe once surprised a group of learned men with the question- "Where is God present?" They laughed at him, assuming that he must be thinking of God as a limited being that would exist in once place and not in others. "Of course, God's Presence is everywhere! As it says, 'm'lo kol ha'aretz k'vodo- The whole world is filled with It's glory!'" (Isaiah 6:3) "No," replied the Kotzker, "God's Presence is wherever you let It in." My friends- on this Shabbat Noakh, the Sabbath of Rest, may we relax free from the narratives that trap and divide us. May our thoughts and words be like open windows, permeable to the Presence of the Ineffable Present. May our species speedily grow into this wisdom and remake our world in the image of love, care and respect for all life. Good Shabbos! love, brian yosef
0 Comments
 Sometimes it happens that a jar of something spills in the refrigerator. It is rare, in our home, for the refrigerator to be totally clean; usually it shows the signs of being well used. But when something spills, it crosses over from acceptable shmootz to a genuine crisis of muck. The spilled mess pushes me over the edge of complacency and drives me to clean not just the spilled stuff, but also the dirtiness in general. It is then, ironically, that more dirtiness leads to more cleanliness. And so it is with the spiritual life. When things are going well, there is a low level of discomfort that is easily tolerated without much effort. We can become lazy in our attentiveness. But when the “jar” of our expected routine “breaks,” when some crisis disrupts our sense of normalcy, causing the mind to rush and the emotions to flare more than usual, we are driven from the comfort of our ordinary laziness. It is then that we are again motivated to find our way back to the true peace within, the peace that lies not in the external and temporal, but in the Eternal Present within which all experience arises. This sense of being driven out from our comfort, a universal experience fundamental to the human condition, is appropriately expressed in this first parsha, in the story of the expulsion from Eden: וַֽיְשַׁלְּחֵ֛הוּ יְהוָ֥ה אֱלֹהִ֖ים מִגַּן־עֵ֑דֶן לַֽעֲבֹד֙ אֶת־הָ֣אֲדָמָ֔ה אֲשֶׁ֥ר לֻקַּ֖ח מִשָּֽׁם׃ The Divine sent them from the Garden of Eden, to work the soil from which they were taken. (Bereisheet 3:23) Adam and Eve are sent out of Eden because they “ate from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Bad.” In other words, they became conscious of the possibility of crisis. Rather than passively and unconsciously receive the moment as it unfolds, the way a fetus would in the womb, this daat/knowledge is imagining how things might go wrong; we might say this is the beginning of worry. It is also the beginning of ego, of the attempt to control our experience. וַיְגָ֖רֶשׁ אֶת־הָֽאָדָ֑ם וַיַּשְׁכֵּן֩ מִקֶּ֨דֶם לְגַן־עֵ֜דֶן אֶת־הַכְּרֻבִ֗ים וְאֵ֨ת לַ֤הַט הַחֶ֙רֶב֙ הַמִּתְהַפֶּ֔כֶת לִשְׁמֹ֕ר אֶת־דֶּ֖רֶךְ עֵ֥ץ הַֽחַיִּֽים׃ He drove the Adam out, and stationed east of the Garden of Eden the cherubim and the fiery sword, ever-turning, to guard the way to the Tree of Life. (Bereisheet 3:24) When our awareness of crisis triggers the turning movement of the mind and the enflames the fire of the heart, driving us from our peace to “work the soil” and deal with our situation, our worry can eventually become compulsive, and we may come to feel as though we have been exiled forever (or worse, lose all memory of peace altogether). The plain meaning of the text seems to support this: “…the fiery sword, ever-turning, to guard (lishmor) the way to the Tree of Life.” This is the bitterly pessimistic view of human life that we sometimes see in Biblically based perspectives – that the Way back to The Garden, the derekh eitz hahayim, is completely blocked to us in this life by the “fiery turning sword” that guards it. But we can understand this word for “guard” – lishmor – in a different way by looking at some other passages: שָׁמ֣֛וֹר אֶת־י֥וֹם֩ הַשַׁבָּ֖֨ת לְקַדְּשׁ֑֜וֹ כַּאֲשֶׁ֥ר צִוְּךָ֖֣ ׀ יְהוָ֥֣ה אֱלֹהֶֽ֗יךָ Guard (shamor) the Sabbath Day and keep it holy, as the Divine has commanded you. (Devarim 5:12) This passage from the Ten Commandments says to “guard” the Sabbath. Does that mean that we are kept away from the Sabbath? Of course not! To “guard” doesn’t mean we are blocked from it; it means that we should not take it for granted, that we should recognize its sacredness so that we can enter into it more deeply. Or how about this passage: וְהָיָ֣ה עֵ֣קֶב תִּשְׁמְע֗וּן אֵ֤ת הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים֙ הָאֵ֔לֶּה וּשְׁמַרְתֶּ֥ם And it will follow if you listen to these rules and guard (ushmartem) them… (Devarim 7:12) Does it mean to guard the rules so as to keep away from them? Of course not – it means the opposite. And this reveals the deeper dimension of the “fiery turning sword” – yes, the movement of the mind and the triggering of emotion drives us out from our peace, but it also serves as a beacon to bring us back, showing us exactly where to find the Path to the Tree of Life! More dirtiness leads to more cleanliness. That is why the “guardian” of the Path is not just movement and fire, not just thought and emotion, but is also a sword. This is the sword of intention that directs us into awareness of thought and emotion, so that we need not be caught by them. And more than that, as we intensify our awareness of the movement of the mind and the fire of the heart, the quality of awareness itself comes to the foreground, showing us not only the Way Back to the Garden, but also revealing that the Garden is who we really are, beneath and beyond the mind and heart. The Tree of Life is not external; it is our own nervous system. וַיַּשְׁכֵּן֩ מִקֶּ֨דֶם לְגַן־עֵ֜דֶן אֶת־הַכְּרֻבִ֗ים – and caused to dwell east of the Garden of Eden the cherubim… The “east” is the place of the rising sun, the place of the dawn, reminding us: when we awaken in the morning and the mind is moving and the heart is agitated, let that “fiery turning sword” show you the way back to the Garden. Before you go out to “work the soil,” spend some time first with meditation, using the “sword” of intention to cast off the bonds of the temporal, dip into the spacious freedom of the Eternal Present, and nourish yourself with the Tree of Life. It is a new year – let us recommit and deepen our practice – the Garden is waiting for you. I’ll be there with you tomorrow morning! More on Bereisheet... The Garden- Parshat Bereisheet
10/27/2016 3 Comments “Bereisheet Bara Elohim Et Hashamayim v’Et Ha’aretz- "In the beginning, Elohim created the heavens and the earth…” What Is My Purpose? When you awaken from sleep, is it because you’ve decided to awaken? Or, do you simply wake up when your body is finished sleeping? In sleep, there’s no deciding. Once you are awake, you are faced with the question: What shall I do? What is my purpose? Waking up itself solves nothing- There was no problem to begin with. But once awake, life becomes a problem. The universe springs into being- Does creation have a purpose? But “purpose” is itself something that’s created! “Purpose” is a thought; “purpose” is a thing. There cannot be a purpose for creation until after creation. Before, there is no problem. The universe comes into being because: Why not? Sometimes, after many months, I clean my car. My wife asks, “Why did you have to clean it now all of a sudden?” But the only answer is: Why Not? Before creation, there is no problem. After, all the problems. What is the solution to all the problems? Go back to before the problems! “Hinei Tov Me’od- Behold it was very good!” That is the Shabbat- the remembering that there were no problems before we got involved; In fact, there are still no problems. The “Before” never went anywhere, because it is not a thing. It is always right here. The Shabbat, the Garden- they were Here before Anything. From within the Garden, there is no problem with moving back into problems. From within Shabbat, there is no problem with moving back into time. Seeing from within the Garden, even outside the Garden is really still inside the Garden- For where can the Garden not be? Seeing from outside the Garden, even inside the Garden is just more of the same: “How can we manage to get back in?” “Once we get in, how can we make sure that we stay there?” But- The Garden is not “there.” Thought springs into being from No-Thought; in No-Thought, there is no problem. From No-Thought, why not think? “Eitz Hada’at Tov v’Ra- The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Bad…” Here we are amidst the trees of the Garden- Why not take a bite of the good and the bad? Of the This and the That? Of the Before and the After? But once you leave the Timeless, the Sword of Fire blocks your way back. What is the Sword of Fire? Nothing but thought! You can't decide to awaken- You can’t think your way back into the Garden- The Garden never went anywhere. But let thought cease, and you will see for yourself: The “Purpose” is to come back to No-Purpose- To the Place from which the Universe springs: “Y’hi Or- Let there be light!” To return to No-Purpose requires living with Great Purpose- The Purpose of Being Present. From There (which is always Here) We can create something beautiful- You, Me, and Others. The world is waiting! Do you not believe me? Don’t worry- it’s Friday afternoon! The Pool- Parshat Bereisheet 10/8/2015 1 Comment When I was about two or three years old, my parents took me on vacation. I have a memory of a boy playing by the pool, filling his plastic bucket with water and splashing it on people. As I walked by him, he made an angry growling noise and threw some water on me. Without a thought, I just pushed him into the pool and watched him slowly sink to the bottom. Immediately, a barrage of adults surged all around me. Men in suits threw off their jackets and dove into the water. In a moment he was safe, and I stood there watching in astonishment. He coughed a bit, looked at me and said, “Next time I’ll push you in the pool!” I wonder sometimes what my life would have been like if I had accidentally killed that boy, and I am so grateful that he was saved from my innocent but deadly push. At that age, I had no idea what the consequence of pushing him into the water would be. It was just an impulse. As adults, we know that we can’t breathe underwater, and that we must constantly breathe to stay alive. And yet, there is a different kind of breathing that many people are barely aware of at all- not a physical breathing, but a kind of inner breathing, without which you can “drown” in your own life. Meaning, you can “drown” in the “water” of your roles, your desires, your opinions, your memories, everything that seems to make up your life. This “water”, however, actually exists only in only your mind. This “water” is nothing but thought! The more continuous your stream of thinking, the less space there is to “breathe”- meaning, the less you can feel the openness and ease that is available when simply living in the present. This continuous stream of thinking is not malicious or evil; it is just an impulse. But it's an incredibly strong impulse. Most people function on very little “breathing”. Their minds “come up for air” only occasionally, take a “breath”, then dive back into the waters of thought. Some people, unfortunately, lose the ability to come up at all, and end up drowning in the stresses and pressures of life, all created by thought. For these people, there is no longer any ability to differentiate between thought and reality. Everything is seen as a projection of the mind. Who will save them? Is it possible to awaken from the dream of your own mind, to come up and breathe the life-giving air of the present? It is possible, but to do it, you have to make the background the foreground. For most, the present moment glows faintly in the background, while the foreground is filled with the noisy waters of thought. But when the background becomes the foreground, the texture of this moment becomes bright, alive and new, as if seen for the first time. This is hinted at in the very first verse of the Torah. This week’s reading begins: “Bereisheet bara Elokim et hashamayim v’et ha’aretz- “In the beginning, the Divine created the heavens and the earth.“ The 12th century Kabbalistic text known as “The Bahir” equates the word “Reisheet”, which means “Beginning”, with the word “Hokhma”, which means “Wisdom” or “Consciousness”, by means of a verse that connects the two: “Reisheet hokhmah yirat Hashem- “The beginning of consciousness is awe of the Divinity of Existence…” (Psalm 111:10) When your own awareness (Hokhmah) meets this moment, it has the quality of brightness, of newness (Reisheet). This is also hinted at by the duality of “heavens and “earth”- When the “heavens” of your awareness meet the “earth” of all of your sense perceptions- then everything is be-reisheet- with (be) the quality of beginning-ness (reisheet). We’ve all known this newness at the very beginning of our lives. As an infant, you didn’t know your name. The infant has no story. Just like a cat rolling in the sun, like a bird flying in the sky, like a worm tunneling through the earth- the newborn is fresh and alive in this moment. But then the story begins. The child learns its name, its roles, its story, and the confusing mix between direct perception and all these mental narratives starts to obscure the present moment. As it says: “V’ha’aretz hayta tohu vavohu, v’hoshekh al p’nai tahom- “And the earth was confusion and chaos, with darkness on the face of the depths…” But fortunately, there is a path out of this confusion: “V’ruakh Elohim merakhefet al p’nai hamayim- “And the Divine hovered over the face of the waters-“ Rather than drown in the waters of your mind, you can “hover” over it simply by consciously noticing what your mind is doing. In deciding to notice your own thoughts, you can command your inner “light” into the darkness: “Vayomer Elohim ‘y’hi ohr’ “And the Divine said, ‘let there be light!’” Simply notice what’s going on in your own mind: “There is a thought about such-and such.” And when notice it, what happens? You may find your mind becomes quiet all by itself, revealing an experience of Reality without the burden of mind, without the burden of time. Practice this often, and eventually a new light will be revealed: “Vay’hi ohr! “And there was light!” This “light” is the dawning of the brightness that was there when you were a newborn, before you were a “someone”. It hasn’t changed! It was overlaid with narrative, but it never went anywhere. This goodness of life in the present in not something you have to believe in. It’s not about philosophy. It’s something you can see directly: “Vayar Elohim et ha’ohr ki tov- “The Divine saw that the light was good!” And so the Torah opens not merely with a cosmology or a mythology, but with a description of awakening- a Torah of Awakening. Of all the Hassidic rebbes, Reb Zushia of Hanipole was particularly known for his simple wisdom that transcended the intellectual complexity characterizing so much of Jewish teaching. According to one story, when asked to reveal his core teaching on what’s most important, he replied, “To me, the most important thing is whatever I happen to be doing in the moment.” Again, none of this is to put down or devalue the mind and thinking. After all, you wouldn’t denigrate your clothing for not being your body! You wouldn’t insult a menu for not being food! It’s only that when we confuse thought for reality, we tend to lose reality. Then we are literally living in a dream, and dreams can become nightmares. Of course, bringing the power of awakening into its full potential for your life takes training and practice. Soon I’ll be launching a new opportunity for you to get that training and practice in this new year. Stay tuned! As we enter the gates of Autumn and this Shabbat of Beginnings, may these opening words of Torah inspire us to not forget the inherent goodness, newness and freedom that is our birthright and nature- -the ever-available, ever-flowing present moment. Good Shabbos! -b yosef
 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… More on Sukkot... 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! 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
 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! More on Parshat Vayelekh... 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 |
Archives
October 2024
|
||||||||
RSS Feed