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The Hasidic rebbe, Rabbi Yitzhak Eisik, had an ailment which caused him tremendous pain. And yet, his pain wasn’t noticeable from looking at him; never did he show that he suffered any agony. Once, his physician asked him, “How is it that you can endure such pain without complaining or groaning?”
“You would understand,” replied the rebbe, “if you thought of pain as scrubbing and purifying the soul in a strong solution. When you understand it that way, what can you do but accept it with love and without grumbling? And with practice, you can build the strength to endure any present pain. After all, one need only be concerned with the moment – all pain from the past is no longer present, and who would be so foolish as to worry about pain that hasn’t happened yet?” The ability to transcend pain is one of the most powerful fruits of spiritual practice. This power is represented by the letter aleph, and is associated with the middot (qualities) of “equanimity” and “integrity.” But this is not the equanimity of detachment or lack of feeling; it is just the opposite. The aleph represents the singularity of consciousness, the vast field of awareness within which arises both pleasure and pain, joy and sorrow, fulfilment and loss, and so on. All of these polarities of experience are deeply felt, but they are felt within the unitary, open space of awareness. In knowing oneself as this openness, one tastes both the sweetness and the bitterness, but the polarities of experience are no longer seductive or dramatic; they are no longer compelling. They are simply the coming and going of qualities within the inner spaciousness that we are, and this spaciousness is infinitely more vast than any particular experience. There is a mishna hints at this power: רַבִּי יַנַּאי אוֹמֵר, אֵין בְּיָדֵינוּ לֹא מִשַּׁלְוַת הָרְשָׁעִים וְאַף לֹא מִיִּסּוּרֵי הַצַּדִּיקִים Rabbi Yannai said: it is not in our hands [to explain the reason] either the tranquility of the wicked or the afflictions of the righteous…
On the surface, this mishna is expressing that old and tired philosophical and religious dilemma: why do good things happen to bad people, and why do bad things happen to good people? But on a deeper level, it is actually giving us an entryway into aleph, into being the space within which the שלוה shalvah (tranquility) and the יסורין yisurin (afflictions) both arise and disappear: אֵין בְּיָדֵינוּ – ayn b’yadaynu – it is not in our hands… When we recognize that the experience of this moment is not something we can control at all, that it is simply what is, we take the perspective of our essence – the space of awareness that simply perceives, prior to the judging activity of thought and emotion. This does not contradict the fact that we can and must take responsibility for our actions, so as to not create unnecessary suffering for the next moment; it is only to say that in this moment, the present experience is already here. If we first of all accept it, we can use it to transcend it; this is the purification that Rabbi Yizhak Eisik was talking about. Moreover, when we cease to view our יסורין yisurin as a problem, we will not be grasping after external things to make us feel better. We will not be tempted to cheat, steal, or act out of integrity in our dealings with our fellow beings. לֹ֤א תַסִּיג֙ גְּב֣וּל רֵֽעֲךָ֔ Lo tasig g’vul rei’akha – You shall not move your neighbor’s landmarks…
This mitzvah of not cheating our neighbors by respecting boundaries is an outer expression of the quality of aleph; when we know the strength and boundlessness of our own being, we need not forsake our integrity to get just a little more land, a little more money, and so on. When we know the strength and boundlessness of our own being, then our pain becomes like the יִּסּוּרֵי הַצַּדִּיקִים – yisurei hatzadikim – the afflictions of the righteous. This week’s parshah finishes Sefer Bereisheet, the Book of Genesis, and also finishes the Yosef cycle. In the tradition, Yosef is often called HaTzadik, the “perfected one” or “righteous one,” because he perfectly embodies this quality of accepting and transcending all suffering. Earlier in the story, Yosef told his brothers not to be distressed about their having wronged him. He explains that it was all part of the Divine intelligence that he should be brought to Egypt in order to save them from the famine. In this parshah, their father Yaakov/Yisrael dies, and the brothers bring him back to Canaan to bury him in the Cave of Machpelah, along with Avraham, Sarah, Yitzhak, Rifka, and Leah. Afterward, the brothers again become distressed, worrying that perhaps now that their father is dead, Yosef might take his revenge on them: וַיֵּלְכוּ֙ גַּם־אֶחָ֔יו וַֽיִּפְּל֖וּ לְפָנָ֑יו וַיֹּ֣אמְר֔וּ הִנֶּ֥נּֽוּ לְךָ֖ לַעֲבָדִֽים׃ His brothers went and fell before him, and said, “We are ready to be your slaves.” וַיֹּ֧אמֶר אֲלֵהֶ֛ם יוֹסֵ֖ף אַל־תִּירָ֑אוּ כִּ֛י הֲתַ֥חַת אֱלֹהִ֖ים אָֽנִי׃ But Joseph said to them, “Do not fear, for am I instead Elohim? וְאַתֶּ֕ם חֲשַׁבְתֶּ֥ם עָלַ֖י רָעָ֑ה אֱלֹהִים֙ חֲשָׁבָ֣הּ לְטֹבָ֔ה לְמַ֗עַן עֲשֹׂ֛ה כַּיּ֥וֹם הַזֶּ֖ה לְהַחֲיֹ֥ת עַם־רָֽב׃ Although you intended me harm, Elohim intended it for good, in order to do, as it is on this day, to keep many people alive…
This is Yosef’s integrity – that he doesn’t hold a grudge, but accepts everything from the “hands of God,” which is another way of expressing the teaching in the above mishna: אֵין בְּיָדֵינוּ – ayn b’yadaynu – it is not in our hands… In other words, Yosef doesn’t hold a grudge because he is relating to Reality as God, rather than as something to be judged and manipulated. Judging and manipulating would be the activity of the ordinary, ego self – the sense of “me” that does not know how to receive the moment as it is. This is expressed beautifully in the pasuk: וַיֹּ֧אמֶר אֲלֵהֶ֛ם יוֹסֵ֖ף אַל־תִּירָ֑אוּ כִּ֛י הֲתַ֥חַת אֱלֹהִ֖ים אָֽנִי׃ But Joseph said to them, “Do not fear, for am I instead Elohim? Another way to read this would be, “Don’t fear, because takhat אֱלֹהִ֖ים Elohim אָֽנִי ani –the “I” is underneath the Divine…” When the alef of our ani, the open space of awareness that we are, opens to allow this moment to be as it is, then we can access the Alef of Elohim, the Divine Reality that removes all fear and reveals the miraculous intelligence that is behind and unfolds within all happening…
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The Dog Hair – Parshat Vayekhi
1/6/2020 0 Comments When we’re about to sweep and mop the dining room floor in our house, I like to put the dog outside first. Why? Our dog sheds an uncannily huge amount of hair (a fact of which we were unaware when we took her in). If we didn’t put her outside during cleaning, there would be no point at which the floor would actually be clean, because the dog would be constantly dropping more and more hair on it as we cleaned it. And yet, what even is the point? As soon as we let the dog back in, the floor will start getting coated with hair again. מַה־יִּתְר֖וֹן לָֽאָדָ֑ם בְּכָל־עֲמָל֔וֹ שֶֽׁיַּעֲמֹ֖ל תַּ֥חַת הַשָּֽׁמֶשׁ׃ What gain is there for a person in all their work that they labor under the sun? (Ecclesiastes 1:3) The point, of course, is that it’s nice to experience a clean floor, even if just for a short time. If you thought that by cleaning the floor it would somehow stay clean forever, that would be הֶ֖בֶל וּרְע֥וּת רֽוּחַ hevel ur’ut ruakh – “vanity and striving after wind.” But if you value the temporary yet regularly recurring experience of a clean floor, it’s perfectly worth it to get out the broom! And so it is with our spiritual life. Just like the dining room, our inner world also has a “floor” that gets “dirty.” Meaning, there is root, an essence, a basic level to our beingness, that gets overlaid with thoughts, feelings, emotions, impressions, memories, ideas, opinions, and all kinds of experiences. That basic level is awareness itself – it is the simple miracle of perception, beneath and beyond our person-hood. Most people never realize that there’s a difference between the “floor” and the “hair” – they never experience their own being in a pure way, and so life is assumed to be nothing but a tapestry of the overlay. But the miracle of meditation is that it “sweeps the floor” and reveals the essence beneath; that essence is spacious, free, creative, benevolent and inherently joyful. It’s true, when we move from meditation back into the flow of life, awareness is bound to get “dirty” again. But that’s okay – when you know yourself as that pure awareness, you don’t need to be fooled by the “dirt.” You have seen the “clean floor” with your own eyes, and you can sweep it again, any time! In fact, it is only because our awareness becomes overlaid with all kinds of experience that we are able to fully recognize our deepest nature. When we were infants, our awareness was fresh, pure and innocent, but we had no appreciation for it, no recognition of the beauty within our own being. Of course, adults could recognize it – that’s why people love babies! But babies don’t recognize their own beauty. Only after we become adults, after our innocence seems to be lost, can we re-discover our essential innocence and appreciate it for the first time. We make think our innocence is long gone, but sweep the floor and see – it has never gone anywhere. At the root of all experience, beneath all the overlay – we are that freshness, that innocence, that open aliveness. Life is not easy – its trials and tribulations, consisting of both what happens to us and of the misdeeds we commit, accrue over time and become heavy burdens, burdens which we may not even recognize until we experience freedom from them. But when we do, when we finally come to know the freedom that we are beneath all that accumulated past, the curse of the burden is no longer really a curse; it is, in fact, a blessing. It is a blessing because without it, without the pain that life gives us, there cannot be a full knowing of who we are beneath the pain. Without the pain that life gives us, there can be neither the wisdom nor the experience we need to help others discover their essence as well. There is a hint of this in the parshah: כָּל־אֵ֛לֶּה שִׁבְטֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל שְׁנֵ֣ים עָשָׂ֑ר וְ֠זֹאת אֲשֶׁר־דִּבֶּ֨ר לָהֶ֤ם אֲבִיהֶם֙ וַיְבָ֣רֶךְ אוֹתָ֔ם אִ֛ישׁ אֲשֶׁ֥ר כְּבִרְכָת֖וֹ בֵּרַ֥ךְ אֹתָֽם׃ All these were the tribes of Israel – twelve – and this is what their father said to them as he blessed them, each according to their blessing, he blessed them. (Genesis 49:28) He “blessed” them? But to at least half of them he delivered curses: Shimon and Levi are a pair; their weapons are tools of lawlessness. Cursed be their anger so fierce, And their wrath so relentless. I will divide them in Jacob, scatter them in Israel… Issachar is a strong-boned ass, crouching among the sheep… He bent his shoulder to the burden, and became a toiling serf… Gad shall be raided by raiders… Joseph is a wild ass… Archers bitterly assailed him; They shot at him and harried him…. But that’s the point: the “curses” are in fact the blessings, because it is through the pain of life experience that our true path of blessing is revealed. That’s why it says he “blessed them according to their blessings” – each of them had their own pain, their own “curses” that became their ultimate blessings. This is most clearly expressed in the story of Joseph, that through his tremendous suffering, masses of people were saved, as Joseph says to his brothers: וְאַתֶּ֕ם חֲשַׁבְתֶּ֥ם עָלַ֖י רָעָ֑ה אֱלֹהִים֙ חֲשָׁבָ֣הּ לְטֹבָ֔ה לְמַ֗עַן עֲשֹׂ֛ה כַּיּ֥וֹם הַזֶּ֖ה לְהַחֲיֹ֥ת עַם־רָֽב׃ You intended me harm, but the Divine intended it for good, so as to bring about as it is today – to bring life to many people. (Genesis 50:20) And even deeper – whatever pain and negativity come from the past, עֲשֹׂ֛ה כַּיּ֥וֹם הַזֶּ֖ה – asoh kayom hazeh – to bring about as it is today – meaning, this moment is as it is because of what has come before. And in the embrace of this moment as it is, לְהַחֲיֹ֥ת עַם־רָֽב – the essential life beneath all pain is revealed as the vastness beyond person-hood… Spiritual Double Take – Parshat Vayekhi 12/20/2018 1 Comment The moment you wish to awaken, you have already awoken to a certain degree. That’s because the desire to awaken can’t even arise at all unless there is already a certain amount of objectivity on your thoughts and feelings. Even if you feel like you are failing, even if you feel that your mind is too busy, or you feel emotionally reactive or whatever, your awareness of that is already a movement in the direction of wakefulness. The key is to use the wakefulness you already have to deepen your wakefulness further, rather than focusing on how not-awake you are: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה’ ... הַמַּעֲבִיר שֵׁנָה מֵעֵינַי Blessed are You, Hashem… who removes sleep from my eyes… This morning blessing gives thanks for waking up from sleep, but on a deeper level, it’s appreciating the tremendous grace we’re receiving just for being awake enough to say the prayer at all! A little later the prayer says: וְדַבְּקֵנוּ בְּמִצְותֶיךָ And attach us to your mitzvot (commandments)… Traditionally speaking, the mitzvot, commandments, are the actions that the Divine “wants” us to do. So to do a mitzvah, in this traditional view, is to fulfill the meaning of your existence. The deeper desire expressed in this prayer, then, is the longing for meaning: Help me be motivated to fulfill my purpose! This desire for meaning, for purpose, is core to the spiritual drive. But, it is only half of the equation. A little further on it says: וְאַל תַּשְׁלֶט בָּנוּ יֵצֶר הָרָע And don’t let the yetzer hara (personal impulses, literally the “bad desire”) rule within us… The other half of the equation is the desire for freedom, for transcendence. These two core desires that drive the spiritual path are, in a sense, the opposite of one another. The first wants to transform the world; the second wants to transcend the world. The first wants fulfill one’s role; the second wants to be liberated from all roles. The first wants to serve the Divine; the second wants to realize that All is Divine. These two core desires are the opposite of one another, but they are not opposed to one another. In Kabbalah and Hassidic teaching, they must work together. You cannot really serve the Divine if you don’t awaken your own inner Divinity. You cannot really transform anything for the better, if you’re emotionally attached to things being a certain way. In Kabbalah, this is called ratz v’shuv – running and returning. In meditation, we “run” – we transcend every particular aspect of experience and know ourselves as the ayin, the Nothing, the open space of this moment within which everything arises. In prayer, we “return” – we appreciate particular things and give thanks; we envision transformation and ask the Divine for help in its manifestation. On a broader level, all spiritual practices, including both prayer and meditation, are a kind of “running” and our ordinary work and life with people is “returning.” In Judaism, both are necessary. This theme manifests at all levels of the tradition: Liberation from Egypt, followed by building the Sanctuary. Or, in the opposite order: six days of working the world, followed by a full day of letting everything be as it is onShabbat. And, in this last example, we see the emphasis unique to Judaism: Six days of work, one day of rest – both are necessary, but transformation is emphasized. In many traditions, it’s the opposite; the holy person is the one who withdraws from the world. But in Judaism, withdraw and transcendence, while absolutely necessary, are not the goal. These two poles are represented by Joseph’s two sons, Menasheh and Ephraim.Menasheh comes from leaving the past behind – transcending the world: וַיִּקְרָ֥א יוֹסֵ֛ף אֶת־שֵׁ֥ם הַבְּכ֖וֹר מְנַשֶּׁ֑ה כִּֽי־נַשַּׁ֤נִי אֱלֹהִים֙ אֶת־כָּל־עֲמָלִ֔י וְאֵ֖ת כָּל־בֵּ֥ית אָבִֽי And Joseph named the firstborn Menasheh, for "God has caused me to forget all my toil and all my father's house." But Ephraim comes from being “fruitful” – that is, successful – in the world: וְאֵ֛ת שֵׁ֥ם הַשֵּׁנִ֖י קָרָ֣א אֶפְרָ֑יִם כִּֽי־הִפְרַ֥נִי אֱלֹהִ֖ים בְּאֶ֥רֶץ עָנְיִֽי And the second one he named Ephraim, for “God has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction.” Menasheh is the first born, hinting at the usual way that spirituality is viewed: transcendence is primary. But when Jacob blesses the two boys, he switches his hands to give the blessing of the first born to Ephraim instead: וַיִּשְׁלַח֩ יִשְׂרָאֵ֨ל אֶת־יְמִינ֜וֹ וַיָּ֨שֶׁת עַל־רֹ֤אשׁ אֶפְרַ֨יִם֙ וְה֣וּא הַצָּעִ֔יר וְאֶת־שְׂמֹאל֖וֹ עַל־רֹ֣אשׁ מְנַשֶּׁ֑ה But Israel stretched out his right hand and placed [it] on Ephraim's head, although he was the younger, and his left hand [he placed] on Manasheh's head… This is why the traditional blessing for boys on Friday nights puts Ephraim first, even though Menasheh was first born – Y’simkha Elohim k’Ephraim v’k’Menasheh! Transformation is the goal (Ephraim), but to achieve that goal, transcendence is also necessary (Menasheh). This is a basic key to living in awakened life: being involved, helping, serving, creating, but also letting go at the same time – accepting everything as it is, not trying to control anything, being the simple, open space of consciousness within which this moment arises. I call this the Spiritual Double-Take. The Double-Take is really not double; it is the simple, single move of Presence. But until it becomes integrated into the way we operate, it requires this ratz v’shuv attitude, this oscillation back and forth between effort and letting go. Eventually, this awakens a sense of effortless effort, of acting in the world without any sense of the “me” doing the acting. As Joseph responded to Pharaoh when asked if he could interpret Pharaoh’s dream: בִּלְעָדָ֑י אֱלֹהִ֕ים יַֽעֲנֶ֖ה – Biladi, Elohim ya’aneh! – It is totally beyond me, but the Divine will answer! There is nothing but the Divine manifesting in all forms, and so from this awakened point of view, there need not be any tension whatsoever – life simply unfolds effortlessly. So may it be for us, amein! Good Shabbos! Die Before You Die – Parshat Vayekhi 12/28/2017 0 Comments This week’s reading begins, “Vayekhi Ya’akov b’eretz Mitzrayim – Jacob lived in the land of Egypt for seventeen years…” The last time we heard about “seventeen years” was back in Parshat Vayeishev, where Joseph is described as a na’ar – a seventeen-year-old youth. Seventeen, then, symbolizes youthfulness. Joseph is the embodiment of youthfulness: he is both beloved and hated, he has BIG and unrealistic seeming dreams, and he has no common sense about how to get along with his brothers. Egypt, on the other hand, means limitation, suffering, constricted-ness (Egypt is Mitzrayim, from tzar,which means “narrow). The youthful Joseph must first get enslaved in Egypt before his eventual ascent to Egyptian royalty. Similarly, the youthfulness in each of us gets constricted by the limitations and conditioning of our physical bodies, families and culture. And yet, we need not be burdened by the temporary challenges of life. Like Joseph, we can be like cream – always “rising to the top” – if we can really let go of resistance to all our seeming limitations as they appear. Ironically, this “letting go” isn’t really a quality of youthfulness, but of old age. As we get older and approach the ultimate Letting Go, it’s natural for attachments to fall away. This is hinted at in the blessing Jacob gives to Joseph’s two sons, Menasheh and Ephraim. Menasheh means “forgetting troubles,” hinting at old age, which is fitting since Menasheh is the elder. Ephraim means “fruitfulness,” which is fitting for the younger brother. But Jacob deliberately switches his hands, giving the blessing of the elder to the younger, which is why the traditional blessing for boys is that they should be like Ephraim and Menasheh, and not the other way around, as if to say: Let go of your troubles while you are still fruitful! Die before you die! On this Shabbat Vayekhi, the Sabbath of Life, may we recognize the precious opportunity we have while we’re alive, to die before we die, to get free now, in this life. Good Shabbos! Getting Real in the Trader Joe’s Parking Lot- Parshat Vayekhi 12/24/2015 6 Comments Last Friday afternoon I went to pick up some kosher wine at Trader Joe’s. (Less than $5 for a cabernet and not too bad!) I pulled into the narrow entrance of the indoor parking lot and saw a woman getting into her car, so I paused to let her pull out so that I could take her spot. Just then, a niggun (melody) came to me. I thought it would be great to sing in the service I was leading that night, so I pulled out my iPhone to record it and send out to the other service leaders. Just then, I heard an angry voice yelling at me- “What the hell are you doing?? Look at you sitting there on your phone- backing up traffic!!” An older man was tensely yelling and walking toward me. I thought he might burst a blood vessel! I ignored him at first, but he kept walking right up to my car. I rolled down the window a little and explained, “I’m waiting for this car to pull out so I can pull in.” “What about that spot??” he yelled and gestured. There was another open spot behind me, but I couldn’t pull in since there were now several cars blocking the way. Due to the angle of the turn, it wasn’t visible when I had first pulled in. “Oh okay, I didn’t see that,” I said. “Aaagghh!” he gestured angrily and stormed away. Now, as far as I know, pausing and holding up traffic for a few moments in order to allow someone to pull out of their parking spot is kosher. But to this guy, I was clearly in the wrong, and he was letting me have it. Why? I assume it’s because he thought I was talking on the cell phone while driving, which really triggered him. As happens to folks so often, his mind judged something external (me) and then lost all self-awareness and composure. He became a jerk because he was convinced that I was a jerk. At such moments of being triggered, people are often swept away by emotion. All the positive middot- wisdom, sensitivity, awareness, compassion and so on- are out the window. How often do you experience such moments? Is it possible to take another path? Can triggered emotion actually be put to good use? Back in 1998, during a radically transformative time of my life, I had such an experience: I was driving, when a car violently cut me off at an intersection. I gasped, adrenalin pumping. I felt the heat of anger swelling within me, and the urge to retaliate and curse the guy behind the wheel. Then, the thought occurred to me that this moment of being triggered was the moment to be present. I brought my awareness deep into the feeling of the anger. It burned within me, and it was extremely painful. Next, I felt it move upward through my body and out the top of my head. It was like a huge cloud of darkness left me. As the last of it left my body, everything looked totally different. The road glistened with moisture from a recent rain and the sound of a bird’s caw filled the sky. I began to see that driver in a completely different way. He wasn’t against me- he was actually setting me free! It left me feeling raw, simple, innocent and at peace. The truth is, the human nervous system is a heaven/hell engine. Of course we want the heaven and not the hell. But, if you really want heaven to be born within you, the key is to not resist the hell. Like physical birth, there is pain in birthing heaven. If you’re willing to open to this pain, it can serve its function- to set you free. As in the birth of a child, it’s ultimately a blessing. This week’s reading, Parshat Vayekhi, is the last reading of the book of Genesis. Jacob is dying, and he calls his son Joseph to bring him his two grandsons, so that he can bless them before he dies. Joseph arranges his sons with the older brother Menasheh at Jacob’s right hand and the younger brother Ephraim at Jacob’s left. This way, the older will get the blessing of the first born from Jacob’s right hand, as was the custom. However, Jacob reverses his hands, putting his right hand on Ephraim’s head instead. Then he says: “By you shall Israel bless, saying, ‘May the Divine make you like Ephraim and Menasheh.’” Today, there is a tradition for parents to bless their boys on Friday nights with these words. Girls are blessed with the names of the matriarchs. Why does Jacob switch his hands and reverse the order? What’s so special about Ephraim and Menasheh that boys should be blessed with their names, rather than the names of the patriarchs? Let’s go back a few readings to Parshat Mikeitz, when Joseph names his sons. He names his first-born son Menasheh because, he says, “The Divine has made me forget (Nashani) my troubles”. He names the second son Ephraim because- “The Divine has made me fruitful (Hifrani) in the land of my suffering”. These two names actually map out the process of spiritual awakening and the birth of the inner heaven: First, there must be an intensification of awareness in the body, an anchoring of the mind in the present. This, by necessity, entails a surrendering of mental preoccupation with the past and the suffering created by that. In other words, the “troubles”, are “forgotten.” This is Menasheh. “Forgetting troubles” opens a new space in one’s consciousness that was previously taken up by excessive thinking. After that space has opened up, the spiritual “fruit” can be born within- the inner Light of joy, freedom and bliss- the inner heaven. This is Ephraim. But, as Joseph said, “The Divine has made me fruitful in the land of my suffering.” In order for this inner Light to come forth, one must first feel fully any emotional pain that has previously been blocked. Most people have a good amount of suppressed pain from a lifetime of difficult experiences. When feelings are unpleasant, we naturally want to avoid them. We can become expert at putting up inner barriers so we don’t have to feel them. But those inner barriers take energy. They block us from feeling our own aliveness and from the life of this moment. They impede the blossoming of heaven on earth. But open to the blocked pain, and the blockages begin melting away. When you do, you may want to turn back. It’s easy to forget the good that lies at the other end. Perhaps this is why Jacob reversed his hands, putting Efraim first in the formula- “Y’simkha Elokim k’Efraim v’kh’Menashe- “May the Divine make you like Efraim and Menashe!” In other words, remember that the “fruit” is the point. You won’t have to walk through hell eternally. Contrary to the Christian fundamentalists, the hell fires do burn themselves out eventually, if you feel them fully. There is another hint of this in the verb Joseph uses when he says that the Divine made him “forget- Nashani”- his troubles. The verb root is Nun-Shin-Heh. Besides the meaning “to cause one to forget”, this verb also means, “to feminize”. In classical symbolism, “feminine” means “receptive”. It is the opposite of aggressiveness, which is often characterized as masculine. Perhaps this is why the blessing of Efraim and Menashe has traditionally been used for boys. If you truly wish to awaken, you need to temper the “masculine” activity of inner conflict with the “feminine” quality of openness. In this openness, you may have to suffer the pain that emerges, but it will pass, and its fire will transform you. Like the fiery sword that guards the Garden of Eden, you must pass through, allowing it to slay all that is false. There’s a Hassidic story of the brothers Rabbi Shmelky of Nicholsberg and Rabbi Pinkhas of Koretz. They were greatly troubled by a passage in the Mishna (Berakhot 9:5) that says one should say a blessing for bad things that happen as well as for good things. They came to their master Rabbi Dov Bear, the Maggid of Mezrich, and asked him- “Our sages teach that we should praise and thank Hashem for the bad well as the good. How can we understand this? Wouldn’t it be insincere to give thanks for suffering?” The Maggid replied, “Go to the House of Study. There you will find Reb Zusha smoking his pipe. He will give you the answer.” When they arrived at the House of Study they found Reb Zusha and put their question to him. Reb Zusha simply laughed and said, “I think you’ve made a mistake coming to me. You had better go find someone else, because I myself have never experienced anything bad!” The two brothers were taken aback. They knew that Reb Zusha’s life was riddled with poverty and misfortune. Then, they began to realize what Zusha was saying: He didn’t see his suffering as “bad”. Zusha's suffering had transformed him into the ecstatic saint he was. On this Shabbat Vay’khi, The Shabbat of Life, let’s open to life as it is in its fullness, with its joy and suffering. And when life brings you suffering, let it be a pointed reminder to once again become present, to allow the pain to break open your heart and reveal the light within. Rather than judge, snap or plot, let that light come through you in a word of kindness or act of service. And if the response you are called to give is harsh, let it be strong and clear- but without anger and malice. Good Shabbos! -brian yosef I Have Never Suffered In My Life- Parshat Vayekhi 1/1/2015 2 Comments There is a Hassidic story of the saintly brothers Rabbi Shmelky of Nicholsberg and Rabbi Pinkhas of Koretz. They were greatly troubled by a passage in the Mishna (9:5) that says one should say a blessing for bad things that happen as well as good. They came to their master Rabbi Dov Bear, the Maggid of Mezrich, and asked him, “Our sages teach that we should praise and thank Hashem for the bad well as the good. How can we understand this? Wouldn’t it be insincere to give thanks for our suffering? The Maggid replied, “Go to the House of Study. There you will find Reb Zusha smoking his pipe. He will give you the answer.” When they arrived at the House of Study they found Reb Zusha and put their question to him. Reb Zusha simply laughed and said, “I think you’ve made a mistake coming to me. You had better go find someone else, because I myself have never experienced suffering in all my life.” At first, the two brothers were taken aback. They knew that Reb Zusha’s life was riddled with poverty and misfortune. Then, they realized- Zusha had a very different relationship with his “suffering”. The human nervous system is a Heaven/Hell engine. Which one will your engine produce? The whole purpose of the spiritual path is to produce Heaven, for Heaven to be born within. To do this requires not just conscious choice, but also commitment. The moment you make this commitment, you are on the Path. You need commitment because there is a common pitfall. If you wish to have Heaven and not Hell, you may think that you can somehow avoid the Hell, avoid the suffering. But, like physical birth, there is pain in birthing Heaven. A person must be willing to endure this pain, to get to the other side- to walk through Hell to get to Heaven. Without commitment, you are likely to give up at this point. But if you persevere, the pain of suffering begins to look entirely different. As in the birth of a child, it is ultimately a blessing. This week’s reading, Parshat Vayekhi, is the last reading of the book of Genesis. Jacob is dying, and he calls his son Joseph to bring his two sons to him, that he may bless them before he dies. Joseph arranges his sons with the older brother Menashe at Jacob’s right hand and the younger brother Efraim at Jacob’s left. This way, the older will get the blessing of the first born from Jacob’s right hand, as was the custom. However, Jacob reverses his hands, putting his right hand on Ephraim’s head instead. He then blesses the boys with the words- “By you shall Israel bless, saying, ‘May the Divine make you like Efraim and Menashe.’” Today, there is a tradition for parents to bless their boy children on Shabbat with these words. Why does Jacob switch his hands and reverse the order? What is so special about Efraim and Menashe that they should become the paradigm for blessing boys? Let’s go back a few readings to Parshat Mikeitz, when Joseph names his sons. He names his first-born son Menasheh because, he says, “The Divine has made me forget (Nashani) my troubles”. He names the second son Efraim because “The Divine has made me fruitful (Hifrani) in the land of my suffering”. These two names actually describe the process of spiritual awakening and the birth of the inner Heaven. First there must be an intensification of awareness in the body, an anchoring of the mind in the present. This, by necessity, entails a surrendering of mental preoccupation with the past and the suffering that is created by this type of thought. The ordinary worries of the mind, the “troubles”, are “forgotten”. This opens a new space in one’s consciousness that was previously taken up by excessive thinking. After that space has opened up, the spiritual “fruit” can be born within- the inner Light of joy, freedom and bliss- the inner Heaven. But, as the verse says, “The Divine has made me fruitful in the land of my suffering.” In order for this inner Light to come forth, one must first feel fully any emotional pain that has previously been blocked. Most people have a good amount of suppressed pain from a lifetime of difficult experiences. When feelings are unpleasant, we naturally want to avoid them. We can become expert at putting up inner barriers so we don’t have to feel them. But those inner barriers take energy. They divide us internally and block us from our own life energy and from life as it is happening in this moment. They block the blossoming of Heaven on Earth. When you begin to open to this inner suffering, you may want to turn back. It’s easy to forget the good that lies at the other end. Perhaps this is why Jacob reversed his hands, putting Efraim first in the formula- “y’simkha Elokim k’Efraim v’kh’Menashe- may the Divine make you like Efraim and Menashe”. In other words, remember that the “fruit” is the point. You won’t have to walk through Hell eternally. Contrary to the Christian fundamentalists, the Hell fires do burn themselves out eventually, if you feel them fully. This means becoming deeply open to whatever arises in your field of awareness as your consciousness comes to dwell within your body, in your heart, in the present. There is another hint of this in the verb Joseph uses when he says that the Divine made him “forget- Nashani”- his troubles. The verb root is Nun-Shin-Heh. Besides the meaning “to cause one to forget”, this verb also means, “to feminize”. In classical symbolism, “feminine” means “receptive”. It is the opposite of aggressiveness, which is often characterized as masculine. Perhaps this is why the blessing of Efraim and Menashe has traditionally been used for boys. If you truly wish to awaken, you need to temper the “masculine” activity of inner conflict with the “feminine” quality of openness. In this openness, you may have to suffer the pain that emerges, but it will pass, and its fire will transform you. Like the fiery sword that guards the Garden of Eden, you must pass through, allowing it to slay all that is false. Jacob gives his blessing on the threshold of the Book of Exodus, where his descendents descend into the suffering of slavery, only to be saved and brought into freedom with the Divine Presence. May we all receive this instruction and with it the faith and commitment to walk through the fires of whatever “hell” emerges in service of the Divine Presence that wants to be born through each of us. Amein, Good Shabbos!
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There is a story that Rabbi Shmelke and his brother were once learning a passage of Mishna:
חַיָּב אָדָם לְבָרֵךְ עַל הָרָעָה כְּשֵׁם שֶׁהוּא מְבָרֵךְ עַל הַטּוֹבָה, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר וְאָהַבְתָּ אֵת יְיָ אֱלֹהֶיךָ בְּכָל לְבָבְךָ וּבְכָל נַפְשְׁךָ וּבְכָל מְאֹדֶךָ One must bless for the bad in the same way as one blesses for the good, as it says, “And you shall love Hashem your God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your might”… (Deuteronomy 6:5)
This passage greatly distressed them, as they thought, “How can we possibly give praise and thanks for hardship and suffering as we do for our wellbeing?” So, they brought their dilemma to their master, Rabbi Dov Ber, the Maggid of Mezritch. “Go ask Reb Zusha,” replied the Maggid, “You will find him in the beit midrash (the house of study) smoking his pipe.” So, they went and found Reb Zusha, merrily smoking his pipe and chanting verses of sacred text. When they put their question to him, he just laughed and replied, “Ha! You certainly have come to the wrong man! If you want to know how to give thanks for bad things, you must find someone who has experienced something bad! I, unfortunately, have never experienced anything bad in my life, so I cannot help you.” The brothers were awestruck and speechless, because they knew Reb Zusha’s life had been a web of poverty and anguish. But gradually they began to realize – the answer had to with the way Zusha received suffering; he received suffering with love. The Hasidic master, Rabbi Tzadok ha-Kohen Rabinowitz of Lublin (1823 – 1900), taught: “If you want to understand the spiritual meaning of a Hebrew letter, look at the first word in the Torah that begins with that letter…” We find the first instance of א aleph in the first verse of the Torah: בְּרֵאשִׁ֖ית בָּרָ֣א אֱלֹהִ֑ים אֵ֥ת הַשָּׁמַ֖יִם וְאֵ֥ת הָאָֽרֶץ׃ Bereisheet bara Elohim et hashamayim v’et ha’aretz In the beginning of אֱלֹהִים Elohim creating the heavens and the earth…
This first instance of aleph is the Divine Name, אֱלֹהִים – Elohim. As a Name of God, Elohim is remarkable, in that it is a plural word – it actually means “gods.” But, the verb create is conjugated in the singular – בָּרָא אֱלֹהִים – bara Elohim; it is as if we were to say in English, “Gods is creating.” We wouldn’t say that; we would say “gods are creating.” By saying “is,” singularity is implied in the plural word. In this way, the very first sentence of the Torah gives a message to the dominant polytheistic culture in which the Torah appeared: “The deities you worship are actually a singular Reality.” Furthermore, Elohim can also mean “mighty ones” or “judges,” and for this reason, Elohim is associated with might and power. Accordingly, in Kabbalah, Elohim is associated with the sefirah of Gevurah (Strength) on the Tree of Life. In addition, one of the meanings of aleph is “ox,” also reinforcing this sense of might and strength. From all of this, we can begin to get a picture of the inner meaning of aleph: aleph has to do with the inner strength it takes to be unified in oneself, to be singular, uncomplicated, un-self-contradictory. There are two levels of unity in a person – inner and outer unity. Inner unity is something that we already are on the deepest level; there is always already only one experience happening right now. Our present experience is multifaceted and constantly changing, but all the content of experience is appearing and disappearing within the one space of consciousness. We are already that space of consciousness on the deepest level; there is nothing we have to do to achieve this deepest oneness of being. According to the Kabbalist Rabbi Isaac Luria, known as the Arizal, this inner unity is represented by the form of the aleph – a letter ו vav in the middle with a י yod on top and a י yod on the bottom. The letter ו vav, when appearing as a prefix to a word, means “and.” The upper י yod represents the “waters of joy” and the lower י yod represents the “waters of bitterness.” In this way, the form of the aleph embodies the attitude of saying “yes” to bitterness and sweetness, to the full spectrum of experience that appears and disappears. Again, this is already what consciousness does; at the level of awareness, we are simply aware of whatever appears; it is only at the level of thought and feeling that we judge good and bad, what we like and what we don’t like. So, the practice of aleph on this level is the recognition that we are not essentially our thoughts and feelings; we are the open space that transcends thoughts and feelings. As we rest in this recognition, our sense of self shifts its center from identification with thoughts and feelings (ego) to the singular space of awareness, the space of aleph; this is meditation. Outer unity, on the other hand, is not something we automatically have; it is something we must forge through the power of intention and decisiveness. Outer unity means being trustworthy, and not self-sabotaging. It means that once we choose a path, we don’t keep going back in our minds to the other path; it means giving up on all what-ifs, giving up on all resentments and grudges. It means being one in how we think, speak and act. It means having integrity. Accordingly, the mitzvah of aleph is the mitzvah of integrity: Don’t cheat. לֹא־תַעֲשׂ֥וּ עָ֖וֶל בַּמִּשְׁפָּ֑ט בַּמִּדָּ֕ה בַּמִּשְׁקָ֖ל וּבַמְּשׂוּרָֽה׃ You shall not do injustice in judgement, in quality, in weight, or in measure.
The plain meaning here is aimed at merchants – don’t cheat your customers. When you weigh out the stuff you are selling, use a true scale and give people what they pay for. But on a deeper level, it also means: don’t cheat yourself. You have this limited time on this planet, in this body. What is your commitment to your practice, to your learning? Know what it is and stay true to it; don’t cheat yourself. It is difficult to forge outer unity without awareness of our inner unity. Experientially knowing our inner unity is what allows us to be free, to not be caught by the many contradictory thoughts and impulses that arise. This is why meditation is so important – not merely because it creates a feeling of peace and spaciousness, but because it shows us that we are spaciousness. And from that realization, the path toward forging outer unity becomes clear. This is the easiest way – through realizing the inner unity that we are, we can see and not get caught by the tendencies of outer contradiction. But there is also a harder, and probably more common, way as well – the way of failure. Because when we experience the pain of our own lack of integrity, this can wake us up and motivate us to change course. This was the path of Yehudah: וְעַתָּ֗ה יֵֽשֶׁב־נָ֤א עַבְדְּךָ֙ תַּ֣חַת הַנַּ֔עַר עֶ֖בֶד לַֽאדֹנִ֑י וְהַנַּ֖עַר יַ֥עַל עִם־אֶחָֽיו׃ “And now, please let your servant dwell, instead of the boy, as a slave to my lord, and let the boy go back with his brothers…”
The beginning of Parshat Vayigash is the climax of the Yosef story. Yosef is fooling his brothers, saying that he is about to take their brother Binyamin as a slave for stealing Yosef’s magic goblet. Of course, Binyamin didn’t really steal it; Yosef framed him for the purpose of bringing the brothers to recognize their past sins toward him. Finally, it is Yehudah who steps us and takes responsibility. “Take me instead” he says. This is the Yehudah who was shamed for his arrogance and aggressiveness in the last parshah. Now, Yehudah has been transformed; he has become a mensch. He is willing to be a slave himself in order to save his brother and his father. This is the quality of aleph, both on inner and outer levels; he is willing to receive suffering with love, like Reb Zusha, for the sake of serving his father and brother. Interestingly, the words for “father,” av, and “brother,” akh, both begin with aleph, as does the word Adon, Lord, the superlative that Yehudah calls Yosef: אדון – אח – אב In this way, Yehudah’s humbled and service-oriented relationship with those around him symbolizes our relationship with the the Divine Aleph which is the Oneness of All Being. Through recognition and transcending of our past failures, through willingness to feel the sting of their pain and choose to move forward and unify ourselves in service of Reality, we follow the pattern of Yehudah; we become Yehudim, Jews, in the deepest sense of the word…
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Glass of Sunshine – Parshat Vayigash
12/30/2019 0 Comments Rabbi Yehoshua Heschel of Apt said, “A person should be like a vessel that willingly receives what its owner pours into it, whether it be wine or vinegar.” What does this teaching mean? The other day I went to see a production of the Nutcracker with my family. I loved it – the lead dancers were wonderful, but also there were many little children who danced adorably as well, at their level. But I was most impressed by the sets. One moment the entire huge stage looked like the inside of a fancy mansion, and the next moment the mansion set lifted into the air and was replaced by a winter wonderland. This happened several more times; one set flew away and another completely different scene manifested. It was hard to believe that all those different sets could fit somewhere above the stage, out of sight. Each one looked so substantial; the change from one set to another in a few seconds was truly magical seeming. And so it is with our different experiences as well. As I am writing this, the sky has been cloudy for most of the day. The dampened sunlight and cold, moist December air creates in me a somewhat muted emotional tone; the outside is reflected on the inside. Then, about an hour ago, the clouds parted and the sunlight broke through. Instantly, my inner world changed as well – light on the outside, light on the inside – magic! The weather is a great metaphor for experience in general. Qualities of experience persist for some time, then change. Of course, we are not completely passive; there are many ways we can and must regulate our experience. We certainly have the ability to drink the “wine” and reject the “vinegar.” And yet, in this moment, a certain experience is already manifest. We can steer the experience in certain ways as we move through time, but whatever experience is already manifest now, that is the experience we must be with now. The “wine” or “vinegar” has already been “poured.” If we do not willingly receive this moment as it is, we create resistance, stress, dis-ease. But if we do open to this moment as it is, even as we may steer it into the future, then there is a deeper magic that can manifest: we can come to know ourselves as the vessel. After all, what is a vessel? It is just an open space. The point is that on the deepest level of your being, you are simple openness; you are the “stage” upon which an infinite number of different “sets” are assembled and disassembled instantaneously. You are not the clouds or the sunlight penetrating the clouds; you are the openness of this moment, the stage upon which everything is unfolding. And, as it turns out, when we are open to both the wine and the vinegar, there is a deeper “wine” that can reveal itself; a deeper “sunlight” that shines from within. There is a hint of this in the parshah: וַיֹּ֨אמֶר יוֹסֵ֧ף אֶל־אֶחָ֛יו גְּשׁוּ־נָ֥א אֵלַ֖י וַיִּגָּ֑שׁוּ וַיֹּ֗אמֶר אֲנִי֙ יוֹסֵ֣ף אֲחִיכֶ֔ם אֲשֶׁר־מְכַרְתֶּ֥ם אֹתִ֖י מִצְרָֽיְמָה׃ Joseph said to his brothers, “Please approach me.” And when they approached, he said, “I am your brother Joseph, he whom you sold into Egypt.” Up to this point in the story, Joseph had been disguised as a merciless dictator, giving rise to fear and despair in the brothers. But then Joseph reveals himself by saying, g’shu na eilai– please approach me. To “approach” is the opposite of resisting. And just as Joseph reveals his true identity to his brothers when they approach, so too when we “approach” this moment with openness, we can come to see that this experience too is our “brother” – whatever quality is present, be it “vinegar” or “wine,” is arising within the field of consciousness that we are. In fact, every experience is only a form – a “disguise” – of our own consciousness. Come to this moment and see – your “brother” is ready to embrace you; your “sister” is ready to kiss you. All are forms of consciousness, and consciousness is nothing but the Divine, alive and awake within you, as you… וַיִּגַּ֨שׁ אֵלָ֜יו יְהוּדָ֗ה Vayigash eilav Yehudah – And Judah approached… That is, to be a “Jew” is to approach this moment with gratitude! (Jew, Yehudah, is from odeh et Hashem – “I thank the Divine.”) Approaching the Eternal – Parshat Vayigash 12/11/2018 0 Comments Recently I was teaching my Bat Mitzvah cohort about the Sh’ma. We talked about how the word sh’ma (listen) is really an invitation not merely to do the act of listening, but to be the listening. When you are the listening, you can take a break from the roles you play – roles like daughter, student, friend, sister, and so on – and simply be a knowing presence. “But why would we want to do that?” one of them said. “I like my identity!” “Sure, identity can wonderful. But that doesn’t mean we need it all the time. For example, it’s great to live in a house. But would you want to be trapped in your house?” “Yes, I love my house! I want to be in it all the time!” They were toying with me. At their age, it’s not common to want to take a break from identity; there is not yet knowledge of the burden of identity, because identity is still new, still forming. But on some level, the heart knows. Many people go their whole lives without making this knowledge conscious and intentional, but still the seed is there of the realization: There is much more to existence than identity. Children are usually not interested in going beyond identity, and most adults aren’t either. Some adults may come to realize it would be a good idea to meditate in order to let go of stress or whatever, but still they don’t necessarily do anything about it. Even fewer will get to the point of realizing: the whole drama of life with its ups and downs, with death ever lurking at the end of the story, is not the deepest level. There is an intuition of something deeper – but how to get to It? The truth is, we don’t have to “get” to It – all we need do is stop and turn toward It. The mind constantly generates this whole noisy drama of life, but there is a Center. The Center is vast silence, and that Center is none other than your own being, which is not separate from the One Being. But, we shouldn’t think that the noisy drama and the vast, silent Center are two different things! Rather, all the content and movement of our life drama are nothing but the Vastness, dressed up in different costumes. We need not turn away from life, we need only to turn more completely toward it. Beneath the costume, the Divine is whispering to us, as Joseph said to his brothers when he revealed himself to them: אֲנִ֣י יֹוסֵ֔ף – I am Joseph! The name Yosef (Joseph) means “increase,” so on the deepest level, this is the Divine message to us: whatever we are relating with in the moment, its deepest identity is the Mystery from which all emerges. Then Yosef says, גְּשׁוּ־נָ֥א אֵלַ֖י – g’shu na eilai – Approach me please! In other words, don’t be fooled by the masks – come to the heart, come to the vast and silent Center behind all the actors playing out the drama. That Vastness is home, that Vastness is peace, that Vastness is the Divine, and it was Here all along. But this realization of the Center is not the end of the drama – not at all! Because now that you’ve tasted the Real Thing, you want more – you want to stay there. You want It all the time. But life pulls you back into its chaos again and again! What to do? Hear the Divine’s message to Jacob, as he prepares to descend in Egypt: אַל־תִּירָא֙ מֵֽרְדָ֣ה מִצְרַ֔יְמָה כִּֽי־לְג֥וֹי גָּד֖וֹל אֲשִֽׂימְךָ֥ שָֽׁם – Don’t be afraid of descending into Egypt, because I will make you into a great nation there… Egypt is Mitzrayim – narrowness, constriction. Don’t be afraid to get pulled back into a constricted state, because it is through your descent that your ascent will become more mature and stable. You can only grow spiritually through the learning that comes through failure. Then it says: אָֽנֹכִ֗י אֵרֵ֤ד עִמְּךָ֙ מִצְרַ֔יְמָה וְאָֽנֹכִ֖י אַֽעַלְךָ֣ – I will descend with you into Egypt and I will surely bring you up as well… Even in the depths of separation there is nothing but the Divine, so the power to return is always inherent within every experience, no matter how far you seem to fall. גַם־עָלֹ֑ה וְיוֹסֵ֕ף יָשִׁ֥ית יָד֖וֹ עַל־עֵינֶֽיךָ – and Joseph will place his hand on your eyes… The eyes are a symbol for awareness. Joseph’s name, Yosef, means “increase,” and the hand is a symbol of action: It is through your descent and subsequent ascent that you will gain the power to increase your own awareness, to be free from the tremendous pull ofMitzrayim, to awaken completely out of the seduction of life’s noisy dramas. Then you will say as Jacob said: אָמ֣וּתָה – Amutah – I will die – The “me” that is dependent on the Mitzrayim of life’s dramas can die, because רְאוֹתִ֣י אֶת־פָּנֶ֔יךָ כִּ֥י עֽוֹדְךָ֖ חָֽי – r’oti et panekha ki odkha khai! I have seen Your Face, that it lives forever! Every form we encounter is the Nothing but the Face of the Living, Eternal Presence… What is Egoless Intention? Parshat Vayigash 12/20/2017 0 Comments When Joseph reveals himself to his brothers, that he is the one they nearly killed and sold into slavery, he says, "don't be distressed for having sold me here, ki l'mikhyah sh'lakhani Elokim lifneikhem – for it was to be a provider that the Divine sent me before you!" Here we have the great paradox that includes yet goes beyond morality. The brothers did him wrong; there's no excusing them. And yet, Joseph says, "Al ta'atzvu – don't be distressed!" Why? Because it needed to happen that way. Their sin leads to their redemption; their evil was all for the sake of Mercy. And this is our choice now, in every moment – to practice Al ta'atzvu – not being distressed – and instead knowing that this moment is as it should be. This doesn't excuse or justify hurtful and wrong behavior; it just sets it in the widest, infinite context of Reality, and opens the door to redemption, no matter what the situation... if we can remember to approach this moment, as it is. Good Shabbos! A Little Bee Says- Parshat Vayigash 12/16/2015 2 Comments Have you ever misheard the lyrics of a song and gone around singing it completely wrong? When I was about four years old, the song “I Believe in Music” by Mack Davis was popular. There was some PBS children’s show I used to watch that put the song with some animation, so I heard it all the time. Only I didn’t really hear it, I misheard it. The song actually went- “Oh I… believe in music… Oh I… believe in love!” But in my mind, the song went like this- “Oh-ah! A little bee says… Oh-ah! A little bee!” I have fond memories of my father shaving in the bathroom, singing, “Oh-ah! A little bee says…” A few years ago there was some animated Disney movie- I think it was Shark Tale. I was watching it with my four year old son, when suddenly that rap about “big butts” comes on. I sat there, incredulous. Oh no! Corruption! Luckily, he thought the lyrics were, “I like… big… birds in the cats!” Then, I got to shave in the bathroom and sing, “I like big birds in the cats!” When a child hears some catchy music but doesn’t understand the meaning of the words, the child’s mind fills in the meaning spontaneously (and cutely). I was reminded of this when I was leading a Shabbat service a few years back, and I saw a man singing his heart out with the Hebrew prayers. After the service, I spoke with him. “Wow you were so into davening that prayer!” I said. “You know the meaning of those words is interesting…” “Don’t tell me what the words mean!” he yelled. “I don’t want to know! If I know the real meaning of the Hebrew, it will ruin it for me!” Just like children who create their own versions of songs, he had created his own meaning for that prayer, and was davening so passionately. He didn’t want to know the “real” meaning because it wasn’t his meaning, and would probably contain off-putting religious ideas besides. I think this is true for many American spiritual seekers and practitioners- not just in the Jewish scene, but in many traditions. Americans chant Sanskrit in yoga classes. They chant Turkish and Arabic in Sufi gatherings. They chant Japanese and Tibetan in Buddhist zendos and temples. For many of these seekers and practitioners, a lack of understanding the language is freedom. The exotic and foreign sounds can easily accommodate the true prayers of the heart, because they are not locked into any precise linguistic meaning. And yet, for many people, the opposite is true: For some who know how to say the words but don’t understand them, the prayers can feel rote and meaningless. Others, who neither know nor understand the words, end up feeling alienated, like outsiders. In response to that type of reaction, the Second Vatican Council changed the Catholic Mass from Latin to the local vernacular languages in the early 1960s. For some, this made the Mass more meaningful. But for others, getting rid of the Latin destroyed its mystery and power. You can’t please them all! No rabbi, no priest, no guru or shaykh or roshi or lama can ever come up with the formula that will “work” for everyone- it’s impossible. The real question is not how to make it work for everyone. The real question is: How can you make it work for you? And the question is even broader. It’s not just a question of how to connect with the external language of a traditional practice, but how to connect with any practice whatsoever. I remember several years ago when I was teaching a workshop on prayer and meditation. There was a guy in the class who raised his hand at the end and said, “I’m trying to do the practices you’re teaching me, but every time I try, it just feels so fake, so forced.” Whether traditional practices feel foreign and alienating because they’re so new to you, or whether you know them so well that they’re boring and tedious, it’s really the same question: How can I connect deeply to an external practice? How can it become authentic? How can it be transformative? This week’s reading begins after last week’s cliffhanger. Joseph’s brothers stand around him, not knowing his true identity, seeing him only as a foreign ruler from whom they must beg for sustenance due to the famine. Joseph has been toying with them, threatening to take the youngest brother, Benjamin, as a slave. Judah steps forward to plead with Joseph: “Vayigash eilav Yehudah- -And Judah approached him- “Vayomer, bi adoni y’daber na avdekha… And he said, ‘Please my lord, let your servant speak…’” The Hebrew wording in Judah’s plea with Joseph has a strange idiom: “… bi adoni y’daber na avdekha…” The word “bi” is usually left un-translated. Literally, “bi” means “in me” so a literal rendering would be, “In me, my lord, let your servant please speak…” Or, to say it more clearly, “May my inwardness express itself in speech…” If Judah represents the expression of inwardness and authenticity, Joseph represents externality, superficiality. Joseph is a political leader. For Judah and his brothers, Joseph is (or seems to be) a foreigner, something alien. And, most importantly, Joseph is hiding his inner identity from them. They can only see the most external part of him. But Judah, the internal and authentic self, approaches (yigash) the external and foreign form with three special qualities- humility, honesty and sacrifice. First, he approaches with humility: “And he said, ‘Please my lord, let your servant speak…’” Humility is the opposite of coming in with a lot of judgments and ego. With judgments and ego, you’ve already sabotaged any potential for connection before you even begin the conversation. If you want to connect, leave those at the door. Second, he approaches with honesty: “For how will I go up to my father if the boy is not with me? Let me not see the misery that will befall my father!” Judah brings his true concerns and fears- that’s the way to approach prayer. Whatever is really going on inside you, that’s your korban- your offering, your means to draw close. Just like the fellow who didn’t want to know the meaning of the words, fill the sounds of the words with your own sincere cries. This doesn’t mean you have to be anti-intellectual. If you can understand the words and identify with their meaning, all the better. Then you can take your place in the chain of tradition that brings those words to this moment in history. But whether you understand the words or not, it just means that you fill the words with the energy of your heart. Lastly, he approaches with sacrifice: “So now, please let (me) your servant stay instead of the boy as a slave to my lord, and may the boy go up with his brothers.” On one hand, real prayer has to come from the depths of your own desire. But then, it needs to go beyond that, to be offered for the sake of others. Don’t do it merely for your own experience, but to refine yourself so that you can be of more benefit to others, to bring more light into this world. Then, the externality of Joseph will break down: “Now Joseph could not bear all those standing beside him, and he called out, ‘Take everyone away from me!’ And he wept out loud, and said to his brothers, ‘I am Joseph!’” Bring these three qualities to your daily practice, to your synagogue, to the tradition, and it will open itself to you, revealing itself as your brother, your sister; it isn’t cold or alien underneath. How do you invoke these three qualities in yourself? The secret is in the tune. Music opens the door. Don’t just recite, chant. Don’t just speak, sing. The nervous system relaxes, dopamine is released, and even incomprehensible words can become carrier waves for depths of longing and ecstatic expressions of the heart, drawing you back into connection with yourself, with others and with the present moment. As Psalm 147 says: “Ki tov zamra leiloheinu navah tehillah- How good it is to sing praises to our God!” The 18th century Hassidic sage, Rabbi Elimelekh of Lizhensk, expounded on this verse like this: “It’s good when a person is able to bring about that God sings within him!” On this Shabbat Vayigash, the Sabbath of Approaching, may everything we approach that appears foreign and alienating open with warmth and connection, revealing the secret brother/sisterhood between all beings. May our words sprout from the fertile soil of melody and rhythm! Good Shabbos! love, b yosef ![]()
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There was once a king who decided to test his subjects, so he had all the riches of his palace brought out into a huge field, while he sat on a raised throne in the center. He invited everyone in the kingdom to come and pick one thing in the field to take for themselves. Droves of people came and wandered around anxiously, trying to decide what to choose.
Then, a little old woman made her way through the field and up to the king. “Is it true that we can take anything in the field?” she asked the king. “Yes,” he replied, “everything is this field is available. You just have to decide which one to choose.” “In that case,” said the old woman, “I choose you!” Beneath the world of beings and things, the world of this and that, of relative values, there is a supreme Value that remains hidden in plain sight. This is the Value of Being Itself, and it is ever available, if we can only bring ourselves to notice It and choose It. But since It is not a thing, but is rather the Being-ness of all things, it is elusive and ineffable. So what do we do? We dress It up in the clothing of the familiar; we invoke It through the feelings and images of relationships that we know. One of the most common traditional Jewish images of the Divine is that of Melekh, of King. In relating to the One as Melekh, the world then reveals itself as Malkhut, the Divine Kingdom, the ever shifting abode of the ever-present Presence. In contrast to the world of time and form, in which all things are temporary and ultimately unstable, there is a Wholeness in the world of being and space that is not only available to us, it is our essence; it is who and what we are on the deepest level. Knowing this experientially dissolves that gnawing sense of dissatisfaction with one’s life situation, and opens the door to splendor of life – the miracle that shines within all the ups and downs. This is why the mitzvah from the Aseret Hadibrot (the Ten Commandments) associated with Malkhut is לֹא תַחְמֹד – lo takhmod – don’t covet (Exodus 20:14). In order for recognition of the Oneness to be more than an experience, it must become a commitment; this is the commitment to accept our situation as it is, to fully occupy our own reality, not get lost in fantasies about where and who we would rather be – it is being שָּׂמֵחַ בְּחֶלְקוֹ samayakh b’helko, “happy with one’s portion.” (Pirkei Avot 4:1) וַיֹּ֙אמֶר֙ יְהוָ֣ה אֱלֹהִ֔ים לֹא־ט֛וֹב הֱי֥וֹת הָֽאָדָ֖ם לְבַדּ֑וֹ אֶֽעֱשֶׂהּ־לּ֥וֹ עֵ֖זֶר כְּנֶגְדּֽוֹ׃ Hashem Elohim said, “It is not good for man to be alone; I will make a helper against him.”
The Bahir expounds on that Eve was not created from Adam’s rib, as the typical translation reads, but rather that Adam was androgynous, and that Eve’s creation entailed separating the female and male aspects of the Adam so that they might face one another. Since the Adam is b’tzelem Elohim, in the Divine Image, this hints at our existential predicament: we too tend to experience ourselves as separate, as alone, and this is lo tov – not good! But, there is a path to remedy our predicament, when we recognize that the consciousness we are is not something separate from the world around us; all things are part of this One Reality that we are. There appears to be this and that, “I” and “other,” and we may feel our “I” to be separate from the “other” – but this is just the dream of duality; it is possible to wake up, now. In Parshat Mikeitz, Yosef interprets Pharaoh’s two dreams about the seven sickly cows devouring the seven healthy cows, and seven scorched stalks of grain devouring the seven healthy stalks of grain. He explains they are the same dream, representing seven years of plenty, followed by seven years of severe famine. He then says: וְעַ֨ל הִשָּׁנ֧וֹת הַחֲל֛וֹם אֶל־פַּרְעֹ֖ה פַּעֲמָ֑יִם כִּֽי־נָכ֤וֹן הַדָּבָר֙ מֵעִ֣ם הָאֱלֹהִ֔ים וּמְמַהֵ֥ר הָאֱלֹהִ֖ים לַעֲשֹׂתֽוֹ׃ As for the repeating of the dream to Pharaoh two times, it is because the matter is definitely from Elohim, and that Elohim will soon carry it out…
פַּעֲמָ֑יִם – pa’amayim – two times… On a deeper level, “two” means the duality of our experience in the world of form – past and future, me and other, and so on. The hint here is that duality is a dream; when we awaken from the dream, we can see: כִּֽי־נָכ֤וֹן הַדָּבָר֙ מֵעִ֣ם הָאֱלֹהִ֔ים – ki nakhon hadavar mei’im HaElohim – for definitely the matter is “from-with” the Divine… מֵעִם – mei’im is a strange word – it literally means, “from-with.” Meaning, all devarim, all things, are manifestations of the One, all creations of the Divine (from), and the Divine is the Being-ness, or Presence of all things (with). Besides the well-known image of Melekh (King) that is used by the tradition to help us relate to the Divine, there is also the image of the Av (Father). These two images are combined in the well-known liturgy of Avinu Malkeinu – “Our Father, Our King.” Rabbi Yisrael of Rizhyn taught on the difference between these two different images, noting that most prayerbooks say: וְהַעֲמִידֵֽנוּ מַלְכֵּֽנו … הַשְׁכִּיבֵֽנוּ יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ Hashkiveinu Adonai Eloheinu… v’ha’amideinu Malkeinu Lay us down, Hashem Our God…and raise us up, our King “But in some prayer books,” the Rabbi of Rizhyn taught, “instead of ‘Malkeinu, our King,’ it says ‘Avinu, our Father.’ This is because thinking of the Divine as the “King of the Universe” is not exactly conducive to restfulness. A father, however, is a loving and familiar presence that calms you down and ‘tucks you in,’ as the prayer says a bit later: וּפְרוֹשׂ עָלֵֽינוּ סֻכַּת שְׁלוֹמֶֽךָ Ufros Aleinu Sukkat Shelomekha Spread over us the shelter of Your peace… Besides Ruler and Parent, there is also the less common but more evocative image of the Lover: צְר֨וֹר הַמֹּ֤ר דּוֹדִי֙ לִ֔י בֵּ֥ין שָׁדַ֖י יָלִֽין׃ Tzeror hamor Dodi li bein shadai yalin A satchel of myrrh is My Beloved, laying between my breasts….
These three Divine images, Ruler, Parent and Lover, come together in the piyut (spiritual poem/song) Yedid Nefesh by Rabbi Elazar ben Moshe Azikri (1533-1600), which is traditionally sung Friday nights and Shabbat afternoons, and in some communities every day. In this way, our experience with beings can lead us to the experience of Being, guiding us through prayerfulness through the portal of ordinary life, into the extraordinary spaciousness of Life… Here is how the three Divine images express throughout Yedid Nefesh: Father: יְדִיד נֶפֶשׁ אָב הָרַחֲמָן Yedid nefesh av ha-rahaman My soul's dear one, merciful Father, King: מְשׁוֹךְ עַבְדְךָ אֶל רְצוֹנֶךָ יָרוּץ עַבְדְּךָ כְּמוֹ אַיָּל: יִשְׁתַּחֲוֶה אֶל מוּל הֲדָרֶךָ m’shokh avd’kha el r’tzonekha Yarutzav’d’khak’moayal. Yishtahavehelmulha-darehkha Draw your surrendered to your will! Your surrendered will run like a gazelle, To bow before your splendor. Lover: יֶעֱרַב לוֹ יְדִידוֹתֶיךָ מִנּוֹפֶת צוּף וְכָל טָעַם הָדוּר נָאֶה זִיו הָעולָם. נַפְשִׁי חולַת אַהֲבָתֶךָ. אָנָא אֵל נָא רְפָא נָא לָהּ: בְּהַרְאוֹת לָהּ נוֹעַם זִיוָךְ. אָז תִּתְחַזֵק וְתִתְרַפֵּא. וְהָיְתָה לָהּ שִׂמְחַת עוֹלָם Ye’e’rav lo y’diydoteykha, minofet tzuf v’khol ta’am Hadur na-eh ziv ha-o’lam, nafshi holat ahavatekha Ana El na refana lah, b’harot lah no’am zivekha Az tit’hazeik, v’titrapei, v’haytah lah simhat olam Your love is sweeter Than the dripping honeycomb, and any taste! Resplendent, beautiful, radiance of the world, My soul is sick for your love, Please, O God, heal her now, By the beauty of your radiance, by showing her. Then she will be strong, she will be healed, And she will be your joyful forever more. Father: וָתִיק יֶהֱמוּ נָא רַחֲמֶיךָ. וְחוּסָה נָא עַל בֵּן אֲהוּבֶךָ: כִּי זֶה כַּמָּה נִכְסוֹף נִכְסַפְתִּי לִרְאוֹת בְּתִפְאֶרֶת עֻזֶךָ. Vatik yehemu na rahmekha, v’husa na al ben ahuvekha Ki zeh kama nikhsof nikhsafti Lirot m’heirah b’tiferet uzekha Ancient one, rouse, please, your mercy. Please, on your beloved son, have pity, For so much has this yearning been, To see your strength, in its beauty, Lover: אֵלֶה חָמְדָּה לִבִּי. וְחוּסָה נָא וְאַל תִּתְעַלֵּם הִגָּלֶה נָא וּפְרוֹס חֲבִיבִי עָלַי אֶת סֻכַּת שְׁלוֹמֶךָ. Eileh hamdah libi v’husah na v’al tit’a’lam Higaleh na u-fros havivi alai etsukatsh’lomekha Please, my God, the love of my heart, Hurry, please, and do not remain hidden. Please, be revealed and spread the covering, beloved, Upon me, the shelter of your tranquility King: תָּאִיר אֶרֶץ מִכְּבוֹדֶךָ: נָגִילָה וְנִשְׂמְחָה בָּךְ. Ta-ir eretz mik’vodekha, nagilah v’nismihah bakh Illuminate the earth with your nobility We will celebrate and rejoice in you Lover: מַהֵר אֱהוֹב כִּי בָא מוֹעֵד וְחָנֵנוּ כִּימֵי עוֹלָם: Maheir ehov kiva mo’ed, v’honeinu kimei olam! Hurry, beloved, for the time has come, And be good to me, as in days past
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The Gift of Loneliness – Parshat Mikeitz
12/26/2019 1 Comment Rabbi Barukh told a parable about one who comes to a strange land; he doesn’t speak the language and doesn’t know the customs. He feels deep loneliness. Then, he meets another stranger, and the two of them become close friends, because they are both strangers together in this alien land. That stranger is you, and the other stranger is God… It sometimes happens that we come to feel alone, alienated, disconnected, and we then seek connection through fulfilment of our cravings. And while it is true that God hides within all forms and all beings, this is especially true of our cravings. We think we need this or that experience, we feel we need some validation, some comfort, or whatever, but in fact what we really need is only God. Of course, we are never separate from God, for there is nothing in our experience in this moment that is not God; and yet, we can become disconnected – meaning, consciousness becomes disconnected from itself, which really means disconnection from the Divine, from the “Is-ness” of this moment… וַיַּכֵּ֥ר יוֹסֵ֖ף אֶת־אֶחָ֑יו וְהֵ֖ם לֹ֥א הִכִּרֻֽהוּ׃ For though Joseph recognized his brothers, they did not recognize him. Joseph’s brothers had sold him into slavery out of jealousy and hatred, but unbeknownst to them, Joseph has risen from slave to the rank of Pharaoh’s right-hand man. Now there is a famine in the land and Joseph’s brothers come before him to plead him for provisions. Joseph recognizes his brothers who had done evil to him, but they don’t recognize him; all they see is a potential savior who has the food they need. In the same way, we may seek fulfillment in something or someone – we may “descend into Egypt” to find what we think we need, but beneath the surface, the thing we seek is our own “brother” we “sold into slavery.” Meaning, at some point in our past, we may have disowned some aspect of our experience. We may have done something we’re ashamed of, or suffered some guilt or trauma, and the energy we unconsciously expend keeping this aspect of ourselves in exile creates a deep sense of lack, of un-fulfillment. What is the solution? וַיְהִ֕י מִקֵּ֖ץ שְׁנָתַ֣יִם יָמִ֑ים And it was MiKeitz – at the end – of two years, days… The word for “year” – shanah – also means “change.” Shanatayim שְׁנָתַ֣יִם – means “two years” or, translated interpretively, “the duality of change.” This is the duality of our present moment experience, on one hand, and what we seek to experience, on the other. This word מִקֵּ֖ץ mikeitz, is similar to the word used for Pharaoh’s awakening from his dream: וַיִּיקַ֖ץ פַּרְעֹֽה vayikatz Paroh. To transcend the duality of time, the duality of present experience in relation to that which we crave, we must awaken from the dream of separation and reconnect with our own exiled consciousness, and hence with the Divine. How to do it? Look beneath the disguise – bring awareness deep into the craving itself, into the feeling of alienation, into the loneliness itself – embrace it – be the Presence with the pain. Stop seeking – the Divine you seek is here with you, hidden within your pain, if you would stop and make friends with the present moment. The pain is only a form of consciousness; be willing to feel it, and the form will relax back into its true nature. Then, consciousness can reunite with consciousness – the Divine within you can reunite with Itself, and in this realization of Divine Oneness there is a Supreme Aloneness, but not loneliness. This Aloneness is fullness, wholeness, connectedness. There is a hint of this in the miracle of Hanukkah. Just as the single days worth of oil miraculously burns for eight days, so too if we bring the awareness that we have “today” – meaning right now – to whatever feeling of lack we may have, that feeling of lack can miraculously open into the brightness of the Eternal Present; stay with it and see! It's Beyond Me! Parshat Mikeitz 12/6/2018 0 Comments This past Shabbat I was at a meal where some friends were lamenting the expectation that their kids had to receive presents on Hanukkah. One young woman from Israel said that when she was growing up, there were no presents, but they would play games instead. This seems to be an old custom, because there’s a story of Rabbi Moshe of Sasov, that once during Hanukkah he came into the beit midrash to find some of his student playing checkers. When they saw their rebbe, they were embarrassed and started putting the game away. “No, keep on playing!” said Reb Moshe. “You know, you can learn three important things from the game of checkers: first, you can only make one move at once. Second, you can only go forward and not backward. And lastly, when you get to the last row, you can move in any direction you want…” In order to accomplish anything, you need a plan; you need to envision the end result and imagine all the different steps you must take to get you there. But, in any given moment, you can only do the step you’re on. This is obvious, and yet because we have the power to envision our next steps, the mind tends to dwell in the imagination of the future. The present is often approached merely as a stepping stone toward something else, and this creates a feeling of separation from this moment, a disconnect from Reality. This in turn can produce the unconscious belief that wholeness is somehow not present, that fulfillment lies somewhere in the future. The remedy is, remember: “You can only make one move at once.” Bringing attention to the “move” we are now making liberates consciousness from its imprisonment in the world of thought and its imagined future, allowing the realization: thisis Reality, this moment is complete, the Divine is Present. But what if, when we really connect with the move we are now making, thoughts of regret arise about the past, pulling us into a painful dwelling on what could have been? Remember: “You can only go forward and not backward.” Accepting the past and moving on doesn’t mean you have to somehow push away the feelings of regret; that would just be more rejection of the present! Instead, acceptwhatever thoughts and feelings arise, and let them dissolve of their own accord. Everything that arises is part of the complete texture of the present – don’t resist. And in this act of coming to this moment without resistance, there can be the realization that, in fact, you have arrived – there is nowhere else to go, because you’re always Right Here! Then, you can “move in any direction you want” – you can think about the future or the past and not get caught by them, because they all arise in the open space of the Present – the Eternal Now has come to the foreground. This quality of freedom is embodied by Yosef. Pharaoh asks him to interpret his disturbing dream, but Yosef says, Biladai, Elokim Ya’aneh – It is beyond me, but the Divine will answer! This short phrase contains a code for this teaching: Biladai – It is beyond me: There is only the task of this moment; whatever will be will be. Elokim – the Divine: We cannot go back and change the past; whatever has been is the “Divine Will” – meaning, it already is. The only right relationship we can have with the past is total surrender. Ya’aneh –(the Divine) will answer: In Presence and Surrender, there arises a natural and unforced trust in the way everything is unfolding; all “answers” to the mind’s questions will be revealed in time. At this point, there need not be any strained effort in “trying to be present” or in “letting go of the past” because the movements of the mind are no longer charged, no longer motivated by grabbing after fulfillment. The Divine is ever-present as the fundamental Beingness that underlies all being… The Dream is Over – Parshat Mikeitz 12/14/2017 0 Comments When Joseph advised Pharaoh to put someone in charge of amassing grain during the years of plenty in preparation for the years of famine, Pharaoh replied: “Akharei hodia Elohim otkha et kol zot, ayn avon v’hakham kamokha – Since the Divine has revealed to you all of this, there can be no one as understanding and wise as you.” The words for “understanding and wise” are avon v’hakham, which are forms of the two root attributes of consciousness on the Tree of Life, Hokhmah and Bina – Wisdom and Understanding. Bina, Understanding, refers to the function of thought: the capacity to create images of reality in one’s mind, then manipulate the images so as to comprehend and predict things that wouldn’t otherwise be apparent in one’s immediate, present moment experience. For example, if my refrigerator is full in my immediate experience, I can nevertheless predict that in the future it will be empty, and that I will starve unless I go out and buy some more food. The empty refrigerator is a thought, a mental image, but it allows me to navigate the objective world. That’s Binah –Understanding. Hokhmah, on the other hand, is the awareness from which thought arises. Awareness is the space of consciousness within which the perception of what’s happening in the present arises – in this case, the perception of a full refrigerator, along with the arising of the thought that soon it will be empty. Awareness perceives, “there’s the refrigerator, and there’s the thought about the empty refrigerator in the future.” So, awareness is “above” or “transcendent” of thought. But ordinarily, we tend to perceive the present moment as somewhat in the background, while our thoughts about reality tend to dominate in the foreground. Like the cows in our story, the fullness of awareness is “swallowed up” by the neediness of thought, the need to understand and control things. This reinforces an experience of lack, of incompleteness. But when we allow the present to come into the foreground, seeing our thoughts come and go within the open space of the present, then Hokhmah and Binah can function freely, and there is an experiential sense of wholeness, of completeness. That is meditation, or Presence. Then – hodia Elohim otkha et kol zot – it is revealed that the fullness of experience in this moment, from sensory awareness of the outer world, to the rising and falling of feelings and thoughts, to the open space of consciousness itself, kol zot – all of this is Elohim – One Divine Reality, and there is nothing but Elohim, always and only. Bashamayim mima’al v’al ha’aretz mitakhat – In the heavens above and the earth below, ayn od- there is nothing else. Good Shabbos! Only a Dream- Parshat Mikeitz 12/28/2016 0 Comments Vay’hi mikeitz sh'natayim yamim ufaro holem- And it was at the end of two years to the day, Pharaoh dreamed… Vayikatz Paro- and Pharaoh awoke… This week’s reading begins with Pharaoh’s dream: He is standing by the Nile, when seven beautiful, healthy cows emerge from the water and begin grazing in the marshland. Suddenly, seven more cows emerge, except these ugly and gaunt cows eat up the seven healthy cows. Next, he dreams that seven beautiful, healthy ears of grain get swallowed up by seven thin and scorched ears of grain. Then Pharaoh wakes up, agitated and disturbed. The name of this parshah is Mikeitz, which means “at the end”- referring to the end of a two-year period after which Pharaoh had the dream. But when Pharaoh awakens from his dream, the same word is used again in a different form- “Vayikatz Paro- Pharaoh awakened.” Why is the word for “ending” used also for awakening? For most of us, there’s no awareness of dreaming while we’re dreaming; it’s only in waking up that you realize, “Oh, it was only a dream.” You say, only a dream because it has no external reality; it’s just an experience generated by the mind. Then, when you wake up, you become aware of what’s actually going on around you. Life is real, and unlike the dream, there are real consequences in the world external to your mind. And yet, there’s an aspect of waking life that’s also like a dream. Right now, your awareness is perceiving the richness of this moment- the beings around you, the space you’re in, the sense of your body, your feelings and your thoughts. Ordinarily, you perceive some things as external to you, such as these words, and some things as internal to you, such as your thoughts. There are physical things out there, and emotional and mental things in here. But what many people never notice is that everything in your perception- from the ground under your feet to the clouds in the sky to the feelings in your gut- are all nothing but consciousness, exactly like a dream. Of course there’s also the whole universe out there independent of your consciousness, but your perception of the universe completely arises within your consciousness as part of your consciousness. In other words, everything you perceive is actually you, since ultimately, you are consciousness. So that means that when you judge people, or complain, or in any way resist the truth of whatever arises in the moment, you’re actually resisting yourself- you’re creating a split within yourself which creates a sense of being not whole, of being incomplete. And that’s the dream- that’s the illusion- you think that you need something out there to change in order to feel whole or complete. Just like the gaunt and hungry cows who eat up the full cows, you’re never satisfied because you’re constantly pulling away from yourself, creating an inner split. But when you awaken to realize that everything “out there” is always only perceived “in here,” then you can relax and accept everything in your experience as your own being. When you do that, your consciousness that's become split in two can merge back into oneness, bringing that sense of inner duality to an end. And that’s why the word that’s used here for “awaken” is the word for “ending”- katz- because it’s an end to inner duality. It’s also an end to time, in a sense, because there’s no longer any journey to wholeness or fulfilment; wholeness is simply what you are when you stop pulling yourself apart. There’s a hint of this in the opening line as well- “Vay’hi mikeitz sh'natayim yamim ufaro holem- And it was at the end of two years, to the day…” The word for “year” is shana, which also means “change” or “time.” “Two years” hints that in order to have time, you need two-ness; you need duality. That's because time and change are based on the perception of before and after. But when you see that reality is not in any way ever separate from your perception, that your memories of the past and projections of the future are all arising in the now, that's the keitz shana- the end of time, the awakening into the Eternal Present. So on this Shabbat Mikeitz, the “Sabbath of Ending” which is also Shabbos Hanukah, may everything that arises in your perception be fully embraced as the energy of consciousness, burning ever more brightly within your being and expressing itself in love and healing on all levels. Good Shabbos, b yosef Mr. Fimmen- Parshat Mikeitz 12/9/2015 6 Comments Back in the eighties, Mr. Fimmen was the Vice Principal in my High School. He was known as the disciplinarian. If you did something bad, you got sent to him. I was sent to him as a freshman when I screamed in the hallway after finding out that I got the part of Renfield in the school play, “Dracula.” When I was a senior, my class put on an original musical in which I impersonated Mr. Fimmen. In the play, the main character was a “nerd” who was searching to find himself. In one scene, the nerd’s journey takes him into the depths of Hell. We had him walk down off the stage and into the orchestra pit, where I was dressed like Satan. When he asked who I was, I said, “I have been known by many names- The Trickster, Beelzebub, HaSatan… revealed to the West as… Mr. Fimmen!!” The audience roared. I wasn’t sure how Mr. Fimmen was going to take it, but it turned out he loved it. Every time I saw him in the hallway after that, he gave me a satanic look and said, “Do you know my name?” We became good friends after that. One time, we were having a conversation in his office about religion. He said that just as Judaism is the root of Christianity and Islam, and Hinduism is the root of Buddhism and Jainism, there must be a common root between Judaism and Hinduism. “That’s what I want to find out about!” he said with a smile. But when I was about to leave his office, he became concerned about other students finding out that he was friendly. He said, “Remember Brian, not a word about this to the other students. To them, I’m just MR. FIMMEN!!” It’s true- the other students had no idea who Mr. Fimmen really was. They only saw an image created by their own minds- a “Mr. Fimmen the scary mean guy” narrative. And that’s the way he wanted it. But sometimes, the mind tells negative stories about people that they wouldn’t want. Some bad experience ferments in the memory and sprouts into an inevitably over-simplified story, and that’s the screen through which you then see things. And sometimes, life itself sinks into a negative frame, and you feel that Reality or God is conspiring against you. What’s the way out? To get free of this negativity, the story must come to an end. The whole narrative has to collapse. This week’s reading is called Mikeitz, which means, “At the end”. The parsha begins: “Vay’hi mikeitz sh’natayim yamim, uparo holeim- And it happened at the end of two years, to the day, Pharaoh was dreaming…” The phrase, “Sh’natayim yamim” literally means, “Two years, days”- a strange construction. The first word, “sh’natayim”, is a contraction of two words- “shanah” which means “year” or "change," hinting at the concept of time, and the word “sh’tayim” which means “two”. “Sh’natayim”, then, could be translated as “the duality of time”. When you add “yamim” which means “days”, the full phrase could be translated: “The duality of time, the multiplicity of days”. Time is dependant on duality, on the ability of the mind to compare one thing to another. In the case of time, the mind compares one moment to another. Through the imagination of past and future moments, a sense of time is created. Once the mind creates a sense of time, we experience life as a “multiplicity of days”. Meaning, we experience life as receding tunnel of yesterdays, and an impending journey of tomorrows. But this time-based version of life is actually a dream. Just like Pharaoh’s dreams, this version of life is a tapestry of healthy, peaceful moments, alternating with ugly, monstrous moments. And sometimes, the monstrous seem to overtake and swallow up everything that’s good, as happens in Pharaoh’s dream: “The cows of ugly appearance and gaunt flesh ate up the seven cows of beautiful appearance…” But, dreams come to an end: “Vayikatz Paro, v’hinei halom- And Pharaoh awoke, and behold, it was a dream!” The word for “awoke” is “yikatz”- sharing two letters with “mikeitz” which means “at the end”- hinting that “awakening” is the end of something. What is it the end of? Let’s look back at the first verse, retranslating it according to the above ideas: “Vay’hi mikeitz sh’natayim yamim- Awakening from the duality of time is the end of the multiplicity days…” To come to the end of time, to awaken, is actually profoundly simple. It can happen at any moment, and yet it can only happen in this moment. It happens when you let go of your grip on narrative and allow this moment to speak for itself. Is there any greater beauty than the richness of this moment? Is there any greater gift than your consciousness of this miracle? And in the consciousness of this miracle, is there any room for negative, judgmental thoughts about others? When you see how your own mind works and get free from its illusions, it also becomes easy to see how others are trapped by their illusions. Then, you don’t get pulled into their drama, no matter how they treat you. Even the nastiest insults will only evoke compassion from your heart. You don’t take it personally, because you can see that they are trapped- they are hurling their negativity toward some idea of you, not the real you. There is a story that Reb Yitzhak of Vorki had a friend who would always verbally bash Reb Yitzhak’s rebbe, Reb Simha Bunem. This friend would always say terrible things about Reb Simha right in front of Reb Yitzhak, but Reb Yitzhak never said anything about it or got upset in the slightest. Reb Yitzhak’s hassidim were astonished by this. They asked him how he could possibly allow his friend to speak so harshly about his rebbe and never say a word of defense or reprimand. “I’ll tell you about something that happened to me,” Reb Yitzhak replied. “I was once traveling in a certain city when a stranger approached me, looked at me for a moment and exclaimed, ‘that’s him!’ Then a second man did the same thing, and then a third, though I had no idea what they were talking about. “Before long, a crowd of noisy men and an upset woman surrounded me, showering me with curses and abuses, the gist of which was: ‘You are the man who deserted this woman and left her as an aguna!’” (In traditional Jewish law, an aguna is a woman who’s husband runs away without granting a legal divorce, thus leaving her unable to remarry.) “They were so convinced they knew who I was, that no amount of explanation on my part could persuade them that I was not the man they were looking for. In the end, I had to go along with them to the rabbinical court and grant the woman a bill of divorce. “Now all that time they were busy abusing me, I wasn’t the slightest bit angry at them, because I knew that it wasn’t at me they were directing their complaints and curses. They thought I was her husband. In truth, they couldn't see me at all- they only saw their own story. “So, too, with my friend who talks bad of my rebbe. I don’t get excited. I know he talks this way only because he doesn’t really know my rebbe. In truth, he talks about a character that lives only in his mind.” On this Shabbat Mikeitz, the “Sabbath of Ending” which is also Shabbos Hanukah, and Shabbos Rosh Hodesh (new moon), may our inner light ever increase to bring the negative dreams of life to an end, awakening us to the miraculous gift of the true life, just as it is. And, at the same time, may the function of our dreams be fulfilled: To guide us as we navigate this ever changing moment and help us bring more peace, intelligence and relief to this world that so needs it. Good Shabbos, brian yosef Holes and Stars- Parshat Mikeitz, Shabbat Hannukah 12/17/2014 8 Comments Here in Oakland, the fleas are like monsters- much bigger than on the east coast. Our cat brings them in, so we have to treat the cat once per month with some anti-flea stuff. To get the flea stuff on him, I have to part the hair on the back of his neck and squirt the stuff as best I can onto his skin. To do that, I first have to pet him, make him feel relaxed, then apply the fluid when he’s not suspecting. There’s only one problem. When I first got the cat as a kitten, I lived in a bachelor pad with two roommates. The cat got plenty of attention. Since having kids, however, I have to admit that my enthusiasm for taking care of a pet has waned. Two little humans with all their needs, desires and demands are simply enough; I can’t get so excited about taking care of an animal too. Not that I am neglectful or anything- the cat gets fed and taken care of- but I don’t exactly sit around and pet him. And that’s the problem: Since I only pet him when I am about to put the flea stuff on him, he knows what’s coming! As soon as I start being nice and try to pet him, he runs away. In order for him to relax when I pet him, petting would have to become an every day thing, not a monthly occurrence. It’s exactly the same with spiritual practice. If you only do it occasionally when you feel like you need it, it’s not going to do what it has the potential to do- transform you completely. For that, it has to become an every day thing. There is a spectrum of spiritual intelligence along which the human experience dances. At one extreme, a person is like a “black hole”-never satisfied, always needing to grab more for him/herself. At this extreme, a person lives to “get”. The “black hole” is always restless, always seeking the next experience to feel more complete. At the other extreme, a person can be like a star- radiant, burning with joy and aliveness, giving of him/herself for its own sake, out of love for giving. Each person lives somewhere on this spectrum. These two poles are not merely potentials of the human personality; they actually exist at different levels of our being. For example, at the level of the body, we truly are like black holes. Every day we have to take in more food and water. Even more desperate is our need for air. The body is not satisfied with a deep breath for more than a few seconds before it has to take another. At the level of awareness, however, the opposite is true. The job of awareness is to sense what is, not to prefer one thing over another. If awareness were to have preferences, it wouldn’t work. First we have to perceive whatever is there, then our mind can have preferences about it. Awareness itself is just openness- a boundless field of knowing. As long as things basically go our way, as long as our needs are pretty much taken care of, it is very easy to live in the dream of the “black hole” without even knowing it. The satisfied person may feel no need for spirituality, because the “black hole within” gets its needs met. But sooner or later, the system shatters. Health fails, loss happens, failure happens, and a person goes into crisis. Like the body gasping for air, the ego can desperately seek a way out of its pain. So what is the solution? How can we awaken from the dream of ego without having to get shattered? Parshat Mikeitz begins with the Pharaoh having a disturbing dream. He dreams that seven robust, healthy cows emerge from the Nile, grazing in the marshland. Then, seven sickly emaciated cows emerge and swallow up the seven healthy cows. Furthermore, after the skinny cows eat the fat cows, they are just as skinny as before. He then has a similar dream with ears of grain rather than cows. Pharaoh calls on his necromancers and wise people, but no one can interpret the dream. He then gets a tip that an imprisoned Hebrew named Joseph is a great dream interpreter. Joseph is summoned and interprets the dream for Pharaoh: The seven healthy cows and ears of grain represent seven years of plenty. The seven bad cows and grain represent seven years of famine that will follow the seven years of plenty. Pharaoh is impressed. He elevates Joseph to a royal status and places him in charge of gathering and storing grain for the time of famine. In this way, Egypt is saved and becomes a breadbox for surrounding countries during the time of famine. The essence of Joseph’s message is to not take for granted the abundance you’ve got. Prepare for famine, because famine is sure to come. Spiritually speaking, this means you need to awaken from the dream of entitlement, from the unconscious belief that your ego will continue to be fed. Make a “crisis” for yourself now. This is actually the job of daily spiritual practice: to shatter the callousness of your ego that takes things for granted and open to the living uncertainty of the present. How do you do it? During the seven years of abundance, the people gave Joseph their grain to store away for the years of famine. In the metaphorical sense, Joseph represents the Divine. He interprets dreams on behalf of the Divine. His own dream has the stars, sun and moon bow down to him. His very name, Yosef, means “to increase”, indicating the Source from which all things in the universe come into being. So, in this sense, the people giving Joseph their grain suggests a profound practice in which we intentionally “give back” everything we have to G-d. This is the purifying fire and water of daily prayer and meditation, stripping away the expectations of ego and “me”, accustoming us to being in the naked present. For a person who lives in the naked present, times of “famine” do not lead to crisis, because that person is not relying on the temporary and transitory. That person is like a star, burning with bliss and truth, giving without ulterior motive. This Hanukah, as we increase the light each night, may the flames burn away the barriers of the heart, that we may feel ever more clearly: That which we seek is the only thing there is. That which we crave is what we already are. Amein, Hag Samayakh! ![]()
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The students of Reb Simkha Bunim decided to meet together regularly for learning and fellowship. When the master heard about this, he told them this story:
“Once, there was a man who wished to change careers so that he might make a better living. He investigated what types of work would earn him more, how expensive they would be to learn, how much time they would take, and so on. After some research, he decided he would start a business making mead. So, he went into the city and found an expert mead brewer who could teach him the craft. He paid the man, learned with him for several weeks, and then returned home to launch his enterprise. After brewing up his first batch, he invited many friends and relatives to his home for a tasting party, hoping they would become customers and spread the word. But after pouring everyone a glass and inviting them to take a sip, they all recoiled in disgust! “What is wrong?” he exclaimed. “I don’t know,” someone said, “taste it – it seems really bitter!” The man tried it and it was true, the mead was terrible. Embarrassed and enraged, he set off for the city once again, found his teacher, and demanded his money back. But the teacher insisted he must have done something wrong. “Did you do such-and-such properly?” The master mead brewer went through each step of the process, and the man said that he had done them all correctly. “Hmm… maybe there was something wrong with the honey you used,” said the mead brewer. “Honey?” said the man, “I didn’t use and honey.” “No honey?? You fool – do I have to tell you everything? Of course you can’t make mead without the honey!!” Reb Simkha Bunim then concluded to his students, “And that is how it must be for you. It is good to get together and learn, but you must remember to add a good amount of hasidic honey!” The ninth of the Thirty-Two Paths is Yesod, which means “foundation.” What is the foundation of the spiritual life? It is that hasidic honey – it is joy, enjoyment, having a positive attitude – it is health of the spirit. On the physical level, it is also health of the body. Both are foundational not just for spirituality, but for any endeavor. In the Torah, Yesod is represented by Jacob’s beloved son, Joseph: וְיִשְׂרָאֵ֗ל אָהַ֤ב אֶת־יוֹסֵף֙ מִכָּל־בָּנָ֔יו כִּֽי־בֶן־זְקֻנִ֥ים ה֖וּא ל֑וֹ וְעָ֥שָׂה ל֖וֹ כְּתֹ֥נֶת פַּסִּֽים׃ Now Israel loved Joseph best of all his sons, for he was the child of his old age; and he had made him an ornamented tunic. וַיִּרְא֣וּ אֶחָ֗יו כִּֽי־אֹת֞וֹ אָהַ֤ב אֲבִיהֶם֙ מִכָּל־אֶחָ֔יו וַֽיִּשְׂנְא֖וּ אֹת֑וֹ וְלֹ֥א יָכְל֖וּ דַּבְּר֥וֹ לְשָׁלֹֽם׃ And when his brothers saw that their father loved him more than any of his brothers, they hated him so that they could not speak a friendly word to him. וַיַּחֲלֹ֤ם יוֹסֵף֙ חֲל֔וֹם וַיַּגֵּ֖ד לְאֶחָ֑יו וַיּוֹסִ֥פוּ ע֖וֹד שְׂנֹ֥א אֹתֽוֹ׃ Once Joseph had a dream which he told to his brothers; and they hated him even more…
The Joseph story is characterized right from the beginning by the experience of both love and hate: וְיִשְׂרָאֵ֗ל אָהַ֤ב אֶת־יוֹסֵף֙ – V’Yisrael ahav et Yosef – And Israel loved Joseph… יוֹסֵף Yosef actually means “increase,” and this was Joseph’s characteristic – no matter what happened to him (and he truly had the hardest life out of any of the Biblical characters), he never let anything bother him. He was like cream, always rising to the top, no matter how much he was beaten down: He was almost killed and then sold into slavery by his brothers, and then he rose to be the most trusted servant in the house of a wealthy nobleman. Again, he was falsely accused of a crime and thrown into the dungeon, but eventually he was taken into the palace and made second only to Pharaoh. And through all his troubles, he never complains; he simply goes with what is happening. יִשְׂרָאֵל Yisrael is Joseph’s father, who loves him the most. And just as Joseph is a symbol for the quality of success and not being beaten down by anything, so too “father” represents the Supreme Father, the Divine Source. After all, Yisrael can be read as Yishar El, “straight to the Divine.” Seen in this way, his father Israel represents the vertical dimension of experience, Joseph’s relationship with the Source of Being. His brothers, however, represent the horizontal dimension – relationship with beings, with happenings in time, which express the exact opposite of the vertical dimension: וַיּוֹסִ֥פוּ ע֖וֹד שְׂנֹ֥א אֹתֽוֹ – vayosifu od s’no oto – and they increased even more their hatred of him… The word for “increase” here is a play on words: וַיּוֹסִ֥פוּ vayosifu is like the name Yosef; as Yosef increases, the hatred of his brothers also increases. The hint here is that as we grow and become successful in something, there are often “haters.” People will try to tear you down. And even when this is not the case, there are new challenges that emerge as we become more and more successful at something. The key, then, is to be like Yosef. He wasn’t bothered by the difficulties of the horizontal dimension, because he was rooted in the vertical dimension: וְיִשְׂרָאֵ֗ל אָהַ֤ב אֶת־יוֹסֵף֙ – V’Yisrael ahav et Yosef – And Israel loved Joseph… He trusted in his “dream,” his vision that he was given for the future; he had a purpose, and so it didn’t matter to him how that purpose would be fulfilled. So too, we can receive this moment as it unfolds from the “hands of God” so to speak; we can know that the same Reality from which we are created is expressing Itself in every happening. Our very existence and our very journey in this life is Grace, an expression of Love. Yesod and Yosef are also associated with sanctified sexuality: וַיְמָאֵ֓ן וַיְהִ֗י אַחַר֙ הַדְּבָרִ֣ים הָאֵ֔לֶּה וַתִּשָּׂ֧א אֵֽשֶׁת־אֲדֹנָ֛יו אֶת־עֵינֶ֖יהָ אֶל־יוֹסֵ֑ף וַתֹּ֖אמֶר שִׁכְבָ֥ה עִמִּֽי׃ After a time, his master’s wife cast her eyes upon Joseph and said, “Lie with me.” But he refused…
When Joseph’s master’s wife makes advances, he doesn’t succumb to temptation. She then accuses him of making advances on her, and he is thrown in the dungeon, but he doesn’t complain. Instead, he is eventually put in charge of all the other prisoners! For these reasons, Yosef is also called HaTzadik, “righteous one,” both because he can’t be seduced into improper sexuality, and because he trusts that “things are unfolding as they should.” This association with sanctified sexuality also connects Yesod with brit milah, the practice of circumcision as the sign of covenant with the Divine. The “Saying of Creation” associated with Yesod connects to the aspect of life and procreation: וַיֹּ֣אמֶר אֱלֹהִ֗ים תּוֹצֵ֨א הָאָ֜רֶץ נֶ֤פֶשׁ חַיָּה֙ לְמִינָ֔הּ Elohim said, “Let the earth bring forth living creatures after their kind…
And, the imperative from the Aseret Hadibrot, The Ten Commandments, relates to the aspect of sanctified sexuality: לֹא תִּנְאָֽף – Lo tinaf – don’t commit adultery By contrast, Joseph’s brother Judah expresses the opposite qualities. After the devastating incident of selling their brother Joseph into slavery, Judah leaves the family for some time, marries a woman and has three sons. The eldest marries a woman named Tamar, and he dies soon after. Then next son then marries Tamar, but he dies too. So, Judah withholds his third son from Tamar, fearing he will die as well. But, Tamar doesn’t want to be childless, so she disguises herself as a prostitute and waits for Judah by the crossroads. When he sees her, he stops and asks to be her customer: …וַיֵּ֨ט אֵלֶ֜יהָ אֶל־הַדֶּ֗רֶךְ וַיֹּ֙אמֶר֙ הָֽבָה־נָּא֙ אָב֣וֹא אֵלַ֔יִךְ כִּ֚י לֹ֣א יָדַ֔ע כִּ֥י כַלָּת֖וֹ הִ֑וא So he turned aside to her by the road and said, “Please, let me come to you”— for he did not know that she was his daughter-in-law…
He cannot pay her anything, so he gives her his staff and signet as a pledge to hold while he goes and sends her a goat. Later, when he sends the goat, the messenger returns back with the goat, saying he could not find any prostitute by the crossroads. Three months later, Judah is told that his daughter in law has been promiscuous and his now pregnant, to which Judah demands that she be taken out and burned! Tamar coolly holds up the staff and the signet, and says that the father of the child in her womb is the their owner. Judah realizes his folly, and in his embarrassment, he takes responsibility for the whole situation. This is the beginning of Judah’s transformation, which culminates in the next parshah. On a symbolic level, Yehudah and Yosef are archetypes of opposite qualities: Yosef is described as looking after his brothers. In Genesis 37:2, it says that Joseph was a shepherd with his brothers, but it can also be read that he was a shepherd toward his brothers – יוֹסֵ֞ף ... הָיָ֨ה רֹעֶ֤ה אֶת־אֶחָיו֙ Yehudah, on the other hand, sells his brother, as in Genesis 37:26, “What do we gain by killing our brother and covering up his blood? Come, let us sell him to the Ishmaelites…” Yosef maintains integrity and doesn’t succumb to the temptation of his master’s wife, but is then humiliated wrongfully when he is thrown in prison. Yehudah does succumb to the temptation of Tamar, and is then humiliated rightfully, meaning, his humiliation humbles him and begins his transformation. Yosef ends up with great power in the end when he becomes like a king, second only to Pharaoh, and Yehudah ends up having to humble himself before Yosef to get food and not starve to death. These two opposite archetypes of Yosef and Yehudah manifest in the tradition that there will one day be two messiahs, one that will come from Joseph, and one that will come from Judah. The more commonly known messiah legend is the one from Judah, and it has its origins in this parshah, when Tamar, who was impregnated by Judah, is about to give birth: וַיְהִ֖י בְּעֵ֣ת לִדְתָּ֑הּ וְהִנֵּ֥ה תְאוֹמִ֖ים בְּבִטְנָֽהּ׃ When the time came for her to give birth, there were twins in her womb! וַיְהִ֥י בְלִדְתָּ֖הּ וַיִּתֶּן־יָ֑ד וַתִּקַּ֣ח הַמְיַלֶּ֗דֶת וַתִּקְשֹׁ֨ר עַל־יָד֤וֹ שָׁנִי֙ לֵאמֹ֔ר זֶ֖ה יָצָ֥א רִאשֹׁנָֽה׃ While she was in labor, one of them put out his hand, and the midwife tied a crimson thread on that hand, to signify: This one came out first. וַיְהִ֣י ׀ כְּמֵשִׁ֣יב יָד֗וֹ וְהִנֵּה֙ יָצָ֣א אָחִ֔יו וַתֹּ֕אמֶר מַה־פָּרַ֖צְתָּ עָלֶ֣יךָ פָּ֑רֶץ וַיִּקְרָ֥א שְׁמ֖וֹ פָּֽרֶץ׃ But just then he drew back his hand, and out came his brother; and she said, “What a breach you have made for yourself!” So he was named Perez. וְאַחַר֙ יָצָ֣א אָחִ֔יו אֲשֶׁ֥ר עַל־יָד֖וֹ הַשָּׁנִ֑י וַיִּקְרָ֥א שְׁמ֖וֹ זָֽרַח׃ Afterward his brother came out, on whose hand was the crimson thread; he was named Zerah.
Perez, or Paretz, begins the line from which comes King David, and King David begins the dynasty of kings which, according to legend, will one day be restored by Moshiakh ben David, the “Messiah son of David.” The legend of Moshiakh ben Yosef is found in the Talmud: ויראני ה' ארבעה חרשים מאן נינהו ארבעה חרשים אמר רב חנא בר ביזנא אמר רבי שמעון חסידא משיח בן דוד ומשיח בן יוסף ואליהו וכהן צדק “The Divine then showed me four craftsmen” (Zechariah 2:3). Who are these four craftsmen? Rav Ḥana bar Bizna said that Rabbi Shimon Ḥasida said: They are Messiah ben David, Messiah ben Yosef, Elijah, and the righteous High Priest…
According to this legend, Moshiakh ben Yosef will come first at the “end of days” and fight the wars of Armageddon to prepare the way for Moshiakh ben David, who will usher in a new era of world peace. What does this all mean? Joseph and Judah, Yesod and Hod, really point to the two basic aspects of our being: Yosef HaTzadik is our deepest being. It is our capacity to recover from anything that might happen and return to positivity, to the basic vibrant goodness of being, which is the quality of our foundational life energy – this is Yesod, the power of consciousness that is eternal renewal and youthfulness, ever available to heal all wounds, to effect peace and tikun. Yehudah, on the other hand, is our ordinary personhood; it is the one who makes mistakes again and again, with the capacity to be humbled and ultimately transformed by the process. This is the Baal Teshuvah, the one who repents, represented by Hod which is humility and gratitude (as expressed by Judah toward Joseph in next week’s reading). And this is the dynamic between these two levels within us – as the personal dimension of Judah – our body, personality, feelings and thoughts – humbles itself and opens to the deepest transpersonal dimension of Joseph – the luminescent field of awareness that we are on the deepest most essential level, then “Joseph can feed Judah.” Meaning, our Divine essence can shine within and express itself through our personhood, bringing healing and redemption on all levels. This is the birth of Moshiakh within, and both the shining Yosef and the imperfect but growing Yehudah are essential for this process…
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The Whole World in Her Hands! Parshat Vayeishev
12/16/2019 0 Comments אֲסַפְּרָ֗ה אֶֽ֫ל חֹ֥ק יְֽהוָ֗ה אָמַ֘ר אֵלַ֥י בְּנִ֥י אַ֑תָּה אֲ֝נִ֗י הַיּ֥וֹם יְלִדְתִּֽיךָ׃ I am obligated to proclaim: The Divine says to me, “You are My child, today I give birth to you…” (Psalm 2:7) Rabbi Nahum of Stepinesht once said of his brother, Rabbi David Moshe of Tchortkov: “When my brother chants from the Book of Psalms, Hashem calls down to him: ‘David Moshe My son, I am putting the whole world into your hands – now do with it whatever you like.’ Oh, if only Hashem gave me the world, I would know very well what to do with it! But David Moshe is so faithful a servant that when he gives the world back, it is exactly as it was when he received it…” This anecdote of Rabbi Nahum, the son of Rabbi Yisrael of Rizhyn, is strange; it seems to say that non-action is a virtue. It seems to say that one who does nothing it improve the world is better than one who tries to improve the world. How can this be? When Joseph is thrown into the dungeon, two prisoners come to him with their disturbing dreams, hoping that Joseph will interpret the dreams for them. Joseph responds: הֲל֤וֹא לֵֽאלֹהִים֙ פִּתְרֹנִ֔ים – Don’t interpretations belong to the Divine? (Genesis 40:8) Joseph is saying that his ability to see the meanings of their dreams is a gift that comes from beyond; it’s not really his own doing. But on a deeper level, “dream” is a metaphor for all experience. After all, what is a dream? It is an experience we have while we’re sleeping, an experience that seems real when it’s happening, but turns out to be some kind of projection of the mind. Similarly, our waking experiences too are comprehensible only because our minds project narrative onto them. We tend to be “asleep” in relation to most of what is going on, so that the mind can piece together a story that makes sense. And, central to that story is the character of “I.” From our ordinary state of mind, in which we are mostly asleep, it seems there is this “I” that does things, that acts on the world, that causes things to happen. But what really is this I? Is it really something separate? Isn’t this I part of the flow of Reality, of Existence, of the Divine? On this level, Joseph is saying: Halo l’Elohim pitronim – isn’t this dream of life we are having correctly interpreted as only the Divine? From this point of view, Rabbi David Moshe isn’t being lauded by his brother for not doing anything, but rather for not seeing himself as the doer; he “gives the world back exactly as it was when he received it” – meaning, he gives credit back to the Divine for what happens, just as Joseph does: הֲל֤וֹא לֵֽאלֹהִים֙ פִּתְרֹנִ֔ים This is why Joseph is able to receive such extreme hardship without any complaint; he receives everything from the Hands of the Divine, including his own dreams, from which he knows that he will one day attain greatness. So, when the world seems to hate him, he still regards himself as beloved by the Root of the world. There’s a hint of this in the opening of the parshah: וְיִשְׂרָאֵ֗ל אָהַ֤ב אֶת־יוֹסֵף֙ Now Israel loved Joseph… (Genesis 37:3) Israel loved Joseph – “Israel” means “strives for the God” or “straight to the God” – in other words, Joseph’s sees through the surface of things to the Divine love underneath, even though his experience of the world seems to be the opposite: וַיִּרְא֣וּ אֶחָ֗יו… וַֽיִּשְׂנְא֖וּ אֹת֑וֹ And his brothers saw…and they hated him… (Genesis 37:4) His brothers – “Brothers” represents the things and beings in the horizontal dimension of experience – the forms we encounter in time. But “Israel,” the “Father,” represents the vertical dimension of experience – our encounter with Timeless that abides within and as all things. This is the great skill of the spirit that we are called upon to develop: to know the love that flows from Being, even when hatred seems to flow from the many beings. In Pirkei Avot (6:6), it is said that Torah is acquired through 48 qualities, one of which is: קַבָּלַת הַיִּסּוּרִין Kabalat HaYisurin – receiving of painful feelings Our tendency is to resist that which is painful. But if we are aware that the pain itself is a means toward awakening out of the dream of separateness, then we can receive pain as a gift, even as an expression of Divine love, as it says a few qualities later: וְאֵינוֹ מַחֲזִיק טוֹבָה לְעַצְמוֹ, אָהוּב Eino makhazik tovah l’atzmo, Ahuv – Not claiming credit for yourself, being Beloved… Consciousness glistens on the rustling leaves of the present moment; there is a freedom and a beloved-ness that shines forth when we let go of the “I” that acts, and receive this moment from the hands of the Divine. Then we can know directly that we too are nothing but a fleeting form of Divine Reality, a moment of consciousness awakening in this form: אֲסַפְּרָ֗ה אֶֽ֫ל חֹ֥ק יְֽהוָ֗ה אָמַ֘ר אֵלַ֥י בְּנִ֥י אַ֑תָּה אֲ֝נִ֗י הַיּ֥וֹם יְלִדְתִּֽיךָ׃ I am obligated to proclaim: The Divine says to me, “You are My child, today I give birth to you…” (Psalm 2:7) Just Say Yes! Parshat Vayeishev 11/28/2018 0 Comments וַיֵּ֣שֶׁב יַֽעֲקֹ֔ב בְּאֶ֖רֶץ מְגוּרֵ֣י אָבִ֑יו בְּאֶ֖רֶץ כְּנָֽעַן Jacob dwelt in the land of his father’s sojourning, in the land of Canaan… Jacob’s name, Ya’akov, actually means “heel.” So, to say that he “dwelt in the land” evokes the image of feet touching the earth, being grounded in connection with the sensory world. The “land” is the place where his “father sojourned.” On the surface, this is referring to the other patriarchs, Abraham and Isaac. But on a deeper level, aviv – his father – is a metaphor for the Divine, or the transcendent dimension Being, the hidden Presence beneath all forms. The “land” is also called Canaan. Canaan begins with kaf - nun, which spells kein – “yes.” So, on this level, we can freely this verse: Dwell in connection with the Divine – say “yes” to this moment. On the deepest level, it is already the nature of your consciousness to say “yes” to this moment, to simply shine light on what is without judgment. The nature of thought, on the other hand, is discernment – saying both “yes” and “no,” making judgments. We need both of these levels; we need both discernment and simple openness to what is. Without the openness, we become trapped in a narrow, thought-created identity. But without the discernment, not only wouldn’t we be able to function in life, but we also paradoxically wouldn’t even be able to sustain the openness either, because to realize the deepest “yes” level of our being requires a radical discernment and decision to come fully to your present moment experience as it is and simply dwell with it: וַיֵּ֣שֶׁב יַֽעֲקֹ֔ב בְּאֶ֖רֶץ Vayeishev Ya’akov Ba’aretz The Heel Dwells on the Earth… Bring the awareness of your mind all the way down to the heels of your feet. Let your awareness be like light, simply shining outward, illuminating whatever arises in your experience. This is the secret of Hanukah, which comes in the darkest time of the year to illuminate the eternal dimension of Being within ordinary day-to-day life, which sometimes feels “dark” when obscured by time and the thinking mind... The Evil Shepherd- Parshat Vayeishev 12/22/2016 2 Comments This week’s reading begins with the story of Yosef, or Joseph: “Yosef hayah ro’eh et achav- Joseph was a shepherd with his brothers… v’hu na’ar et b’nei Vilha v’et b’nei Zilpa- and he was a youth with the sons of Bilha and Zilpa...” It then says that he brought evil reports about his brothers to their father. Now the word for “shepherd” is ro’eh, and the word for “evil” is ra’ah-exactly the same letters, just voweled a little differently, hinting at a connection between shepherding and judging others. This is also reflected in the wording. A more straightforward way of saying that he was a shepherd with his brothers would be “hayah ro’eh imachav”- instead of “hayah ro’eh et achav”- which could be read that he’s being a shepherd at his brothers. This hints at two different levels of what’s going on. On the surface, Joseph and his brothers are out shepherding the sheep. But at the same time, Joseph sees himself as shepherding his brothers. He feels that he’s above them, judging them and tattling on them to their father. His vision of himself as above the rest of his family is of course prophetic- he eventually becomes an actual ruler with Pharaoh in Egypt. But at this point in the story, his leadership is immature- as it says, “V’hu na’ar- and he was a youth.” There’s a level of your own being that is above everything. It's the place within you that it sees the fullness of whatever arises in your experience, yet remains free from it, unencumbered by whatever your situation is. That level of inner freedom is simple awareness. Another name for it is Hokhmah or Wisdom, because from that place of awareness, wisdom naturally flows and can guide you in your particular situation. So your awareness is above your situation, on one hand, yet offers its steady guidance at the same time- just like a ro’eh- a shepherd- guides the flock, yet is not itself a sheep. The thinking mind, however, loves to claim the wisdom of awareness for itself in order to feed the ego. The ego thinks, "This is my wisdom"- and then gets gratification from believing itself to be above others. That’s Joseph as the na’ar- the youth- who brings evil reports. As long as the immature mind coopts the wisdom of awareness, the ro’eh becomes ra’ah- an evil shepherd. So what’s the remedy? The remedy is hidden within the letters. The words ro’eh and ra’ah are Reish-Ayin-Heh. The middle letter, Ayin, literally means “eye,” hinting at awareness as the deepest identity of the shepherd. The Reish literally means “head,” hinting that as long as the “head” is ruling the “eye”- as long as the thinking mind claims awareness for itself, the shepherd is evil. But if you change the Ayin to an Alef, the letter of Oneness, then the word becomes Re’eh which means, “see.” When you simply see, not in the literal visual sense but in the sense of simple perception, then you can notice the antics of the mind and ego and not get seduced by them. From this comes mature leadership, where the wisdom that pours into the mind is not coopted or claimed, but is humbly received as a gift. So on this Parshat Vayeyshev, the Sabbath of Dwelling, may we practice dwelling in the simple Presence and receive the gift of guidance from the Ultimate Shepherd. May we be guided by this inner wisdom on a path of love, renewal and healing. Good Shabbos!!! -brian yosef Being Now, Wanting Now- Parshat Vayeishev 12/2/2015 0 Comments A few years ago, I was at a Shabbat table where someone was describing the different character traits of Jacob and his brother Esau: “Jacob could see the big picture. He planed for the future, while Esau only cared about satisfying his immediate desires. Esau lived in the here and now.” I cringed when I heard that, because “living in the here and now” and “wanting something here and now” couldn’t be more different. So many people don’t understand this difference! Back at that Shabbat table, I tried to clarify this point, but I was unsuccessful. I hope to clarify it “now”. Actually, my desire to clarify this point “now” is a perfect example to use. When I say that I want to clarify this point “now”, I don’t mean “now” literally. I mean that I hope to clarify it by the end of this d’var. Which really means that I hope to clarify it in the near future. By the time you’re done reading this, I hope that the point will be clear. In fact, whenever anyone says that they want something “now”, what they really mean is that they want their “now” to change into a different “now”. They may want it really fast… but “fast” is still the future. This is the exact opposite of “being in the now” or “being present”. To “be in the now” doesn’t mean that you want a different “now”. It means you’re just being in thisnow. There’s no conflict or tension in that- you’re just present. In fact, you are the present; there’s not you, on one hand, and the present on the other. When you are present, you and the present are the same thing. So when that guy talked about Jacob and Esau, he wasn’t talking about long-term planning versus being in the now. He was really talking about long-term planning versus short-term planning. Neither one is about the “now” at all. And yet, there’s a way in which long-term planning can actually can help you be fully present. When you know exactly where you’re going, you’re less likely to worry about what you’re going to have for dinner in a few hours. It just doesn’t matter that much. You have a long-term plan, so you can fully enjoy the journey. You can be present. That’s the way Joseph is in this week’s reading. At the opening of our parsha, it says that Joseph is Israel’s favorite son. This makes Israel’s other sons jealous of Joseph. Then, Joseph does something to further upset them: Joseph dreamt a dream that he told to his brothers, and they hated him even more. He said to them, “Hear, if you please, this dream that I dreamt: Behold! We were binding sheaves in the middle of the field, when, behold! My sheaf arose and remained standing. Then, behold! Your sheaves gathered around and bowed to my sheaf.” Then, as if that weren't bad enough, he really ticks them off with a second dream: The sun, moon and eleven stars all bowed down to him, implying that one day he would rule over his eleven brothers, father and mother. Why was Joseph unconcerned about upsetting his brothers with these dreams? Some say that Joseph was immature and vain. But I don’t think so. People who are immature and vain tend to complain when bad things happen to them. Not Joseph! His brothers throw him in a pit and sell him into slavery. When he later rises to be the most trusted and powerful slave in the house of his master, he is framed and thrown in the dungeon. Through all these calamities, he never once complains, never once gets angry, never even defends himself. Why? Because he trusts his dream and he knows where he is going. Since he knows where he’s going, he doesn’t have to fuss much about how he gets there. His brothers are mad at him? No big deal, it will work out. Sold into slavery? There’s an interesting turn. Everything that happens to him is merely a modulation of the present moment. Whatever it is, he’s there with it. He sees the big picture, and therefore he’s fully in the now. In fact, his name embodies this quality. The Hebrew for Joseph is Yosef, which comes from the root that means “to increase”. No matter how terrible life gets, he pops back and increases toward his goal. He’s like cream- always rising to the top, never growing anxious or complaining. He just rides the story of his life, moving steadily toward his destiny. There’s a story that Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev saw a man hurrying down the street, bumping into things and knocking people over. The rabbi grabbed him and said, “Why are you rushing so?” “I’m running to meet my destiny!” replied the man as he tried to break free from the rebbe’s grip. “But how do you know that your destiny is in front of you?” argued the rebbe, “Perhaps it’s behind you, and all you have to do is slow down and let it catch up with you!” On this Shabbat Vayieshev, the Shabbos of Dwelling, remember that to truly dwell in the Presence of the One who is only ever in the present, you don’t have to give up your dreams for the future. But, you don’t have to run after them either! Instead, rest in the knowledge of where your ship is going- take the steps you need to move in that direction, then trust and enjoy the cruise, even when the world seems to be against you! And if you don’t know yet where you want to go, be present with the not knowing. In the silence, your dreams will reveal themselves. Good Shabbos, b yosef ![]()
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When Rabbi Menachem Mendel was about to leave for the Holy Land, he went first to visit his master, Rabbi Ya’akov Yosef of Polnoy. He arrived at the inn in a troika, which seemed ostentatious to the other hasidim and annoyed them greatly. But when he came to the master’s house, they were even more flabbergasted to see that he arrived hatless and beltless. His shoes had big golden buckles, and a pipe stuck out of his mouth. They were sure Rabbi Ya’akov Yosef would boil with anger and harshly reprimand him, for his temper was well known.
But instead, Rabbi Ya’akov Yosef greeted Rabbi Menachem Mendel warmly and invited him in, where they sat and talked affectionately for many hours. When Menachem Mendel left, the hasidim asked their rebbe why he wasn’t disturbed by Menachem Mendel’s conduct. “Let me tell you a story,” said the master. “Once there was a king whose land was under attack, so he hid all his wealth and precious family heirlooms as best he could, hoping to prevent them from falling into the hands of the enemy. But his most precious possession, the family crown jewel, he hid in palace basement, under a heap of cinders, for he knew no one would think to look for it there. And so it is with Reb Menachem Mendel – he hides his great humility in the cinder heap of vanity.” Humility is a tricky thing, mostly because it’s not a “thing” – it is the absence of something. What is it the absence of? It is the absence of psychologically investing in one’s “self-ness.” Put more simply, it is the absence of concern for how the self looks to others; it is the absence of self-image. This is why, in the story, Menachem Mendel appears to be concerned with his self-image; in that world, displays of apparent vanity and ostentatious displays of wealth would invite harsh, judgmental attacks from others. But he doesn’t care! That’s the true humility – not being concerned with looking humble. Part of why humility is so important is because when we are attached to a certain self-image or a certain fixed point of view, this can block us from growing; we think we “already know” or that we are “already there.” The arrogant personality doesn’t think it needs to grow. This is why Jewish teaching sees the imperfect person who transforms as far more relevant than the perfected tzadik. In fact, the three names that are commonly used for the Jewish people all point to this process of transformation: The first name is עברי Ivri, Hebrew. The first time this word is used is in reference to Abraham, who is called Avram ha’ivri – “Abram the Hebrew” (Genesis 14:13). The word עברי Ivri appears to be connected to the root עבר aver, which means to “cross over” or “pass by,” probably referring to the fact that Abraham and his family were part of the ancient migrations from Mesopotamia to the Land of Canaan. But in a deeper sense, Abraham founded a new kind of spirituality. Out of the pagan culture in which he was embedded, he began teaching that the gods, the Elohim, are actually a singular Reality; Abraham’s story is one of transformation from seeing Reality as a plurality of conflicting forces, to seeing the underlying Unity. The second name is ישראל Yisrael, Israel, which, in this parshah, is the name that Jacob is given by the mysterious being with whom he wrestles all night long and comes out victorious. The third name is יהודי Yehudi, Jew, which comes from Jacob/Israel’s fourth son, Judah. Judah’s story comes in the next parshah, and as we will see, his story is one of being humbled, of having his arrogance broken, and his ensuing transformation results in his making peace with his brother Joseph. Judah’s name, Yehudah, is related to the word הודאה hoda’ah, which can mean confession, conceding an argument, and also thankfulness, as in the morning prayerמידה אני Modeh/Modah Ani, which is chanted upon awakening to give thanks for being alive another day. He was given that name my his mother Leah who wanted to give thanks for his being born. The name יהודה Yehudah has the word הוד Hod within it, which is the origin of the sefirah of Hod being associated with humility and gratitude, even though Hod literally means “Glory.” Jacob’s transformation also stems from his being humbled, and like Judah, his transformation results in his making peace with his brother as well – his brother Esau. The process begins with Jacob’s intense fear of his brother, who is coming toward him with four hundred men. Jacob, whose name means “heel,” had manipulated his brother many years earlier to sell him his birthright, and then tricked their father into giving him the blessing of the firstborn as well. Esau resolved to murder Jacob, so Jacob fled to Haran, where worked for Laban, got married and built a family. Now he is returning home, and he is terrified that his brother is going to kill him. So, he sends his brother gifts, he splits is family into two camps, and prays for salvation from his brother. He is then left alone in the night, and a mysterious being appears and attacks him; he wrestles with this “angel” all night long, and is eventually victorious. It is then that the mysterious being gives him the name Israel, which means sarita-El, one who has “wrestled with” or “strives for God.” We then have the following verses: וַיִּשְׁאַ֣ל יַעֲקֹ֗ב וַיֹּ֙אמֶר֙ הַגִּֽידָה־נָּ֣א שְׁמֶ֔ךָ וַיֹּ֕אמֶר לָ֥מָּה זֶּ֖ה תִּשְׁאַ֣ל לִשְׁמִ֑י וַיְבָ֥רֶךְ אֹת֖וֹ שָֽׁם׃ Jacob asked, “Please tell me your name.” And he said, “Why do you ask about my name?” And he blessed him there. וַיִּקְרָ֧א יַעֲקֹ֛ב שֵׁ֥ם הַמָּק֖וֹם פְּנִיאֵ֑ל כִּֽי־רָאִ֤יתִי אֱלֹהִים֙ פָּנִ֣ים אֶל־פָּנִ֔ים וַתִּנָּצֵ֖ל נַפְשִֽׁי׃ Jacob named the place Peniel, because “I have seen the Divine face to face, and my life has been spared/my soul has been rescued.” וַיִּֽזְרַֽח־ל֣וֹ הַשֶּׁ֔מֶשׁ כַּאֲשֶׁ֥ר עָבַ֖ר אֶת־פְּנוּאֵ֑ל וְה֥וּא צֹלֵ֖עַ עַל־יְרֵכֽוֹ׃ The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, and he was limping on his hip. עַל־כֵּ֡ן לֹֽא־יֹאכְל֨וּ בְנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֜ל אֶת־גִּ֣יד הַנָּשֶׁ֗ה אֲשֶׁר֙ עַל־כַּ֣ף הַיָּרֵ֔ךְ עַ֖ד הַיּ֣וֹם הַזֶּ֑ה כִּ֤י נָגַע֙ בְּכַף־יֶ֣רֶךְ יַעֲקֹ֔ב בְּגִ֖יד הַנָּשֶֽׁה׃ Therefore, the children of Israel do not eat the sciatic nerve that is on the sinew of the hip to this day, because he struck Jacob’s hip socket on the sinew.
Let’s look at each of these verses: וַיִּשְׁאַ֣ל יַעֲקֹ֗ב וַיֹּ֙אמֶר֙ הַגִּֽידָה־נָּ֣א שְׁמֶ֔ךָ וַיֹּ֕אמֶר לָ֥מָּה זֶּ֖ה תִּשְׁאַ֣ל לִשְׁמִ֑י וַיְבָ֥רֶךְ אֹת֖וֹ שָֽׁם׃ Jacob asked, “Please tell me your name.” And he said, “Why do you ask about my name?” And he blessed him there. Why is Jacob chastised for asking the name of the being/angel he is wrestling? This is similar to when we might be outraged by something, and we ask, What is that?? The asking itself is a way of denying its validity; it is a way for the ego to pronounce judgment on something. Additionally, learning the name for something can give the ego a feeling of security, as if calling it something imparts a sense of control. In fact, it is a common belief of early peoples that to know the name of a deity or spirit would allow you to control it. The being’s response is, “access denied.” Immediately after, it says וַיְבָ֥רֶךְ אֹת֖וֹ שָֽׁם vay’varekh oto sham – he blessed him there. Meaning, right there – the refusal to reveal its name – that itself is the blessing! Jacob’s ego is not given any wiggle room, and that is the blessing, because it is in transcending the ego that transformation becomes possible. As Reb Pinhas of Koretz said: “The strength of one who accepts reproof is greater than the one who reproves!” The next verse says: וַיִּקְרָ֧א יַעֲקֹ֛ב שֵׁ֥ם הַמָּק֖וֹם פְּנִיאֵ֑ל כִּֽי־רָאִ֤יתִי אֱלֹהִים֙ פָּנִ֣ים אֶל־פָּנִ֔ים וַתִּנָּצֵ֖ל נַפְשִֽׁי׃ Jacob named the place Peniel, because “I have seen the Divine face to face, and my life has been spared/my soul has been rescued… The phrase וַתִּנָּצֵ֖ל נַפְשִֽׁי – Vatinatzel nafshi – is normally translated as “my life was spared,” and this makes sense in the ordinary understanding of the words. But there is a deeper level when we look at these words more literally: nafshi literally means “my soul,” not “my life,” and vatinatzel means “rescued,” “delivered,” or “snatched away.” Seen this way, it is saying that the deepest level of being – the soul, or consciousness, is set free – meaning, consciousness is liberated through the ego becoming humbled. And this is “seeing the Divine face to face” – meaning, when our consciousness is set free from its petty concerns and preoccupation with self-image, our eyes are open to see the wonder of Existence everywhere, and all things are the “Divine Face.” The next verse says: וַיִּֽזְרַֽח־ל֣וֹ הַשֶּׁ֔מֶשׁ כַּאֲשֶׁ֥ר עָבַ֖ר אֶת־פְּנוּאֵ֑ל וְה֥וּא צֹלֵ֖עַ עַל־יְרֵכֽוֹ׃ The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, and he was limping on his hip. “The sun rose” is another way of expressing וַתִּנָּצֵ֖ל נַפְשִֽׁי, the setting free of consciousness, and רָאִ֤יתִי אֱלֹהִים֙ פָּנִ֣ים אֶל־פָּנִ֔ים seeing the Divine face to face; the “light” of consciousness is set free, and that Light is then perceived as the essence of all things. But, it doesn’t happen without a price: וְה֥וּא צֹלֵ֖עַ עַל־יְרֵכֽוֹ v’hu tzole’a al yirkho – and he was limping on his hip… The “hip” is a euphemism for the sexual organs, which are represented by the sefirah of Yesod. Yesod represents joy and connection. So, the message is: having one’s ego humbled can temporarily put a damper on our joy! But, not to worry about this – it is temporary, and the “rising of the sun” reveals a depth and beauty that ignites a deeper joy, one not based on temporary conditions. (This passage about Jacob’s injury is also the source of the practice in kashrut not to eat the hindquarters of the animal, so as to avoid consuming the sciatic nerve that is referred to in these verses. Why? To eat something is to make it part of us. The message is, don’t make your ego-injury part of you; don’t identify with being a victim! Instead, reignite your joy as soon as you can; let go of the past and ivdu et Hashem b’simkha – serve the Divine with joy!) וַיִּֽזְרַֽח־ל֣וֹ – Vayizrakh lo hashemesh – The sun rose for him… The phrase relates to the “Saying of Creation” associated with Hod: וַיֹּ֣אמֶר אֱלֹהִ֗ים יְהִ֤י מְאֹרֹת֙ בִּרְקִ֣יעַ הַשָּׁמַ֔יִם Elohim said, “Let there be lights in the expanse of the sky…”
Just as the “rising of the sun” represents the liberation of consciousness and the perception of the Divine Presence in all things, so too the me’orot birkia hashamayin, the “lights in the expanse of the sky” also hint at this perception. In the realm of human relationships, this perception is mirrored by our relation with our parents; they are the first “lights above” which we become aware of. The Zohar therefore relates this to the imperative of honoring one’s parents in the Aseret Hadibrot, the Ten Commandments: כַּבֵּ֥ד אֶת־אָבִ֖יךָ וְאֶת־אִמֶּ֑ךָ לְמַ֙עַן֙ יַאֲרִכ֣וּן יָמֶ֔יךָ Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be lengthened…
Interestingly, this is one of the few mitzvot for which a clear reason is given; we should honor our parents in order to live longer! Again, honoring our parents is an expression of Hod – of humility and gratitude. The rabbis extended this much further and expressed the connection between our honoring of others and our connection with the Divine: אֵיזֶהוּ מְכֻבָּד, הַמְכַבֵּד אֶת הַבְּרִיּוֹת, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר כִּי מְכַבְּדַי אֲכַבֵּד וּבֹזַי יֵקָלּוּ: Who is honored? One who honors all creatures, as it is said: “For I honor those who honor Me, but those who spurn Me shall be dishonored…
וּמַרְאֵה֙ כְּב֣וֹד יְהוָ֔ה כְּאֵ֥שׁ אֹכֶ֖לֶת בְּרֹ֣אשׁ הָהָ֑ר לְעֵינֵ֖י בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃ The Divine Presence (K’vod Hashem) appeared as a consuming fire atop the mountain, to the eyes of the Children of Israel…
In other words, an important key to the liberation of our consciousness (the “rescue of the soul”) and beholding he Divine Presence, the K’vod Hashem in all things (the “rising of the sun”), is being ham’kkabed et habriyot – honoring all beings, all creation, especially those who raised us and to whom we owe our very lives.
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12/9/2019 0 Comments What is the nature of pleasure? Is pleasure something to be enjoyed and celebrated, or is pleasure a spiritual obstacle? There is a teaching recorded in the Talmud that contains a puzzling dialogue between Moses and Hashem: בקש להודיעו דרכיו של הקדוש ברוך הוא ונתן לו שנאמר הודיעני נא את דרכיך אמר לפניו רבונו של עולם מפני מה יש צדיק וטוב לו ויש צדיק ורע לו יש רשע וטוב לו ויש רשע ורע לו אמר לו משה צדיק וטוב לו צדיק בן צדיק צדיק ורע לו צדיק בן רשע רשע וטוב לו רשע בן צדיק רשע ורע לו רשע בן רשע (Moses) requested that the ways of the Holy Blessed One be revealed to him, and it was granted it to him, as it is stated: “Show me Your ways and I will know You” (Exodus 33:13). He said, “Master of the Universe! Why is it that there are righteous who prosper, righteous who suffer, wicked who prosper, and wicked who suffer?” (The Divine) replied to him: “Moses, the righteous person who prospers is a child of a righteous person. The righteous person who suffers is a child of a wicked person. The wicked person who prospers is a child of a righteous person. The wicked person who suffers is a child of a wicked person. (Berachot 7a) This teaching (attributed to Rabbi Yohanan in the name of Rabbi Yosei) attempts to answer that old perennial question: if there is Divine justice in the world, why do bad things happen to good people? Why are there bad people who seem to have all the good things? The answer given here is a little baffling – it’s just because of their parents? Not very satisfying! However, a novel interpretation of this passage comes from the renown 19th century rabbi known as the Chasam Sofer. He says that the good person who suffers (tzaddik v’ra lo- literally, “righteous and bad for him”) is not one to whom bad things happen. Rather, it is someone who doesn’t know to receive painful experiences. After all, painful experiences will absolutely happen to all people, regardless of how good or bad they are ethically. The issue is not whether pain will come, it is how we deal with the pain when it comes. That’s why the passage says that the tzaddik v’ra lo is a righteous person with wicked parents. The tzaddik v’ra lo is good intentioned, but because they have wicked parents, they don’t learn how to receive pain and not get caught by it; they are still ruled by their impulses, in the same way a wicked person would be. Conversely, the rasha v’tov lo – the wicked person who prospers – doesn’t mean a wicked person to whom good things happen; good experiences are constantly happening to all people, regardless of how good or bad they are ethically (like, for example, our next breath.) Rather, this is someone who may be ethically wicked, but because they have good parents, they have learned the skill of receiving pain without resistance, as well as the skill of cultivating gratitude and appreciation for the all the blessings. The Chasam Sofer is interpreting the Gemara in light of this most fundamental spiritual quality: the simple receiving this moment as it is, also called “equanimity.” The main obstacle to equanimity is the impulse to resist and reject our present moment experience. This resistance, in turn, takes two main forms: rejecting or denying or judging or attacking what we don’t want, and longing for or running after what we do want. One common approach to cultivating equanimity is to purposely restrict your enjoyment of pleasure and voluntarily take on a certain amount of pain; this is the path of asceticism. From the ascetic point of view, pleasure is seen as suspect, even immoral, because it leads to weakness of character and dependence on external experience. This is the context within which the pleasure-negative point of view arises in Judaism and in many other traditions. The counterpoint to the ascetic point of view is the Hassidic approach, which came along to counteract the pleasure-negative ideology that became so prevalent in eighteenth century Eastern European Jewry. After all, it is not pleasure itself that is dangerous, but the clinging to and dependence on pleasure that is dangerous. Feeling good is a blessing of life – why should we go against our nature? Put another way, why should we reject the gifts that Hashem gives us? That’s why Hassidism celebrated eating, drinking, dancing, sexuality, and so on, as a means to realize the sacred; the key was the kavanah – the intention – that one brings to pleasure. One time, Rabbi Yisrael of Rizhyn walked into a room where some of his hasidim were drinking together and making merry, and he seemed to look at them with disapproval. “Are you displeased that we are drinking?” one of them asked. “But it is said that one when hasidim sit together over their cups, it is just as if they were studying Torah!” “There are many words in the Torah that are holy in one passage, and unholy in another,” replied that rabbi of Rizhyn. “For example, it is written: וַיֹּ֤אמֶר יְהוָה֙ אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה פְּסָל־לְךָ֛ שְׁנֵֽי־לֻחֹ֥ת אֲבָנִ֖ים – And the Divine said to Moses, 'carve for yourself two tablets of stone…' (Exodus 34:1) “And in another place, it says: לֹֽ֣א תַֽעֲשֶׂ֨ה־לְךָ֥֣ פֶ֣֙סֶל֙ – Do not make for yourself a carved image… (Exodus 20:1) “Why is the same word, fesel (“carved”), holy in the first passage and not holy in the second? It is because in the first passage, “yourself” comes after “carved,” and in the second it comes first. And so it is in all that we do: when the self comes after, all is holy; when it comes first, all is not.” In other words, the sacred function of pleasure is to help us transcend ourselves; it is to use the pleasure as a means to praise and gratitude, to connection with the Source of blessing, rather than cling to the blessing for the sake of gratification alone. And even deeper, it is to awaken that Presence which is the deepest level of our being, beyond the “self” that craves this and that. After all, there is something essential that we can learn from enjoying pleasure: just as we enjoy pleasure for its own sake, savoring the moment without any future goal, so too we can learn to fully savor the moment as it is, even without any external gratification. We can do this because there is a deeper goodness, a deeper pleasure, that arises from Presence Itself; when we awaken this deeper pleasure, we can see through the ups and downs of transient experience and pierce through to Oneness of Being, the Divine Ground that knows Itself through our own awareness, through the Living Presence that we are, beneath and beyond the “self” of thoughts, feelings, and changing experiences. In the parshah, Jacob is pushed into this realization through crisis. He is terrified that his brother is coming to kill him and his family. He sends gifts to appease his brother, he prays for salvation, he divides his camp in the hope that some might survive if they are attacked. But then he spends the whole night wrestling with a mysterious being who attacks and injures him. By the time dawn breaks, Jacob is victorious, and the being gives him the name Yisrael, which means “strives for the Divine.” Then, it says something interesting: וַיִּקְרָ֧א יַעֲקֹ֛ב שֵׁ֥ם הַמָּק֖וֹם פְּנִיאֵ֑ל כִּֽי־רָאִ֤יתִי אֱלֹהִים֙ פָּנִ֣ים אֶל־פָּנִ֔ים וַתִּנָּצֵ֖ל נַפְשִֽׁי׃ Jacob named the place Peniel, because “I have seen the Divine face to face, yet my life has been preserved.” (Gen. 32:31) It is true that it all turns out well for Jacob in the end; his brother forgives him and they hug and weep upon each other’s necks. But this verse comes before he sees his brother; he doesn’t know yet whether his prayers will be answered; he doesn’t know yet whether his brother will forgive him or kill him. And yet he says, וַתִּנָּצֵ֖ל נַפְשִֽׁי – which is usually translated as above: “my life has been preserved.” But the word for “my life” – nafshi – literally means “my soul,” not “my life.” In other words, his becoming Yisrael means that he has pierced beyond the “good” and “bad” of his personal experience, to his underlying “soul” – his essential being beyond the “self,” beyond ego. He becomes Yisrael because regardless of whether he lives or dies, regardless of whether his prayers are answered or not, he knows now that everything is the Face of the Divine – ra’iti Elohim panim el panim – I see the Divine face to face. This is our task: not to avoid pleasure, not to pursue pleasure as the goal, but to receive both pleasure and pain with full Presence. Because beneath our transient experience is a deeper pleasure, a pleasure with no opposite, a pleasure that is the nourishment we need now for our deepest being… וְֽהָיָ֗ה כְּעֵץ֮ שָׁת֪וּל עַֽל־פַּלְגֵ֫י מָ֥יִם – And one shall be like a tree planted by streams of water… (Psalm 1:3) No Expectations – Parshat Vayiskhlakh 11/21/2018 1 Comment Although we have done our best to raise our children eating healthy food, they have lately become a bit obsessed with candy. The other night, my daughter showed me a little toy electric fan filled with M&Ms that someone had given to her. As she tried to take out the M&Ms, I said, “Honey, let’s read the ingredients on the label.” We did. There were so many chemicals, both artificial flavors and colors, along with preservatives. She asked what all those things were, and when I got to explaining about the preservatives, she said, “But that’s good, right Abba? The preservatives prevent it from going rotten.” I suddenly realized she had a point. It’s true, many preservatives aren’t in any way nourishing. But, in certain situations, a little preservative would certainly be better than eating something that had become overrun with dangerous bacteria. It’s kind of like spirituality. When spiritual practices like prayer and ritual are “fresh” – meaning, they are done with a spirit of openness and humility, they can be deeply nourishing. But there is a danger – when a person thinks of oneself as “spiritual” and therefore special or superior, the same practices can be a source of arrogance. The spirituality becomes “rotten” in a sense. In such a case, we need some kind of “preservative.” What is the spiritual preservative? Once, when Rabbi Avraham Yehoshua of Apt came to visit a certain town to teach, two men competed to have the rabbi stay with them. Both homes were equally roomy and comfortable, and in both households, all the halakhot – the rules of conduct aroundkashrut and Shabbat – were observed with meticulous exactness. The only difference was that one of the men had a bad reputation for his many love affairs and other self-indulgent habits. He knew he was weak, and didn’t think much of himself. The other fellow, on the other hand, was perfect in his conduct, and he knew it. He walked around proudly, thoroughly aware of his spotless purity. The rabbi chose the house of the man with the bad reputation. When asked the reason for his choice, he answered that in the Talmud (Sotah 5a), it says: “R. Hisda said… every person in whom there is arrogance of spirit, the Holy Blessed One says, ‘I and he cannot both dwell in the world.” “And,” said the rabbi, “if the Holy Blessed One can’t share a room with an arrogant person, then how could I? We read in the Torah, on the other hand, that the Divine “…dwells with them in the midst of their uncleanliness.” (Lev. 16:16) And if Hashem takes lodgings there, why shouldn’t I?” The Divine can’t dwell with the arrogant person, because his spirituality has become spoiled. And what is the “preservative” that kept the other fellow from being arrogant? Sin! An amazing, radical teaching: Yes, sin is sin. It’s not good, just like a preservative is not in itself healthy. And yet, it can prevent rottenness of spirit, by helping to conquer arrogance. After all, what is arrogance really? It’s not just thinking good of oneself; it’s about entitled expectation. Spiritual practice, on the deepest level, is about dropping all expectation. When we’re successful in that, there can be an experience of freedom, of space, of sacredness. And in that experience, there can be a very subtle form of expectation that creeps in without our even knowing it; this is spiritual arrogance, the expectation perhaps that others should see us as special, and even more importantly, that we are somehow entitled to the spiritual bliss lasting forever. But if we reflect on our own imperfections, bringing to mind that we have made many errors and aren’t entitled to anything in particular, then we can paradoxically remain connected to the root, even when our branches falter. וַיִּירָ֧א יַֽעֲקֹ֛ב מְאֹ֖ד וַיֵּ֣צֶר ל֑וֹ וַיַּ֜חַץ אֶת־הָעָ֣ם אֲשֶׁר־אִתּ֗וֹ וְאֶת־הַצֹּ֧אן וְאֶת־הַבָּקָ֛ר וְהַגְּמַלִּ֖ים לִשְׁנֵ֥י מַֽחֲנֽוֹת Jacob became very frightened and distressed, so he divided the people who were with him… into two camps. This was Jacob’s quality that won him the name Yisrael. He is very insecure about his brother who wants to kill him, so he “divides the people” – meaning, part of him wants to simply trust the Divine protection that was promised to him, but part of him isn’t sure. His insecurity is actually the deepest nature of existence: all things, all beings, are completely insecure. Nothing is guaranteed. There may be a deep desire to trust, to believe that we have some kind of Divine protection, but this kind of trust is arrogance; if we’re honest, we must admit that insecurity is the Truth. וַיִּוָּתֵ֥ר יַֽעֲקֹ֖ב לְבַדּ֑וֹ וַיֵּֽאָבֵ֥ק אִישׁ֙ עִמּ֔וֹ עַ֖ד עֲל֥וֹת הַשָּֽׁחַר And Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him until the rising of dawn. These two sides of his being wrestled, until the “arising of the dawn” – until illumination occurred. He had done everything he could – he sent many gifts to his brother, he split up his camp, he prayed for safety – now it was time to surrender, and in that surrender, to conquer. וַיֹּ֗אמֶר לֹ֤א יַֽעֲקֹב֙ יֵֽאָמֵ֥ר עוֹד֙ שִׁמְךָ֔ כִּ֖י אִם־יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל כִּֽי־שָׂרִ֧יתָ עִם־אֱלֹהִ֛ים וְעִם־אֲנָשִׁ֖ים וַתּוּכָֽל He said, “No longer shall your name be called Jacob, but Yisrael, for sarita im Elohim –you have conquered with (your) Divine (nature) and (your) human (nature), and you are able!” Through his human nature, through his profound insecurity, he reached the true kind of trust – not trust in a particular outcome, but trust in Reality Itself, trust that this moment is as it is, and will be as it will be. Thus, through his human nature, he reached his Divine nature. And this is our opportunity as well – to do everything we can to secure the outcome we want – pray, send gifts, work hard, all of it. But at the same time, be free. Embrace and relax into the insecurity, into the unknown, and into the true and actual security that isn’t about what we want; it’s about connecting with the truth of this moment, beautiful and fragile and tragic and miraculous. And in doing so, we can truly be one, and reunite with anything disowned or denied from our past: וַיָּ֨רָץ עֵשָׂ֤ו לִקְרָאתוֹ֙ וַיְחַבְּקֵ֔הוּ וַיִּפֹּ֥ל עַל־צַוָּארָ֖יו כתיב צוארו וַֹיִֹשָֹׁקֵֹ֑הֹוֹּ וַיִּבְכּֽוּ And Esau ran to greet him and embraced him, and fell on his neck and kissed him, and they wept… Good Shabbos and Happy Thanksgiving! Send! Parshat Vayishlakh 12/15/2016 1 Comment “Vayishlakh Ya'akov malakhim lifanav el eisav- And Jacob sent angels before him to Esau…” This week’s reading begins with Ya’akov, with Jacob, sending angels ahead of him to appease his brother Eisav who had been intent on killing Ya’akov. So who are Ya’akov and Eisav? They’re twin brothers, but they were also opposite archetypes. Eisav was a hunter, a man of the field. Ya’akov, on the other hand, “dwelled in tents” where, according to the tradition, he would study Torah. Get it? Eisav represents the body, and Ya’akov the mind. Eisav wants to kill Ya’akov because Ya’akov used his cunning intelligence first to convince Eisav to sell him his birthright, and later to trick their father Yitzhak into giving Eisav’s blessing of the first born to Ya’akov. And isn’t this what the mind so often does? The body has its needs- not very complicated or profound- it needs good food, fresh air, good rest, and so on. But our minds have other more sophisticated and ambitions and plans. And because of all the great things we want to accomplish and experience, we end up polluting our bodies, not getting enough rest and exercise, and pushing ourselves in ways that can make us sick- not to mention the damage we cause to other people and to the earth. Eventually, Eisav will rebel- the body rebels, the oppressed rebel, the earth rebels. And that’s when life can fall apart. So what’s the solution? It’s to realize, first of all, that there’s a much more profound dimension to your mind than your thoughts, ideas and ambitions; and that’s your sensitivity- your awareness, your Presence. Just as Ya’akov sends the malakhim- the angels- to Eisav, so you can send your awareness into your body. That’s how you can give yourself love, because awareness is the carrier wave for love; it’s the whole basis for love. After all, before you do anything loving for anyone, you first have to be present with them, you have to pay attention to them. Sometimes, attentiveness is all that’s needed. And, it’s the same for your own body. So what does Eisav do when they finally meet? Eisav weeps and kisses Ya’akov. In the same way, when you bring your mind out of its imaginary worlds of ambition and projection and down into your physical body, then with practice, your body will reflect back to you that quality of love and attention as a feeling of blissful openness, showing you the true nature of your own Being. So on this Shabbos Vayishlakh, the Sabbath of Sending, may we send our loving attention deeply into our own bodies, and may our appreciation of the body lead us to eradicate all the needless human oppression on this planet. May we also love and protect this earth which is our physical home. And as we approach the time of Hanukah, may this loving attention- this Power of Presence- ever increase like the lights of the menorah. Good Shabbos!! -b yosef DON'T Let it Go! Parshat Vayishlakh 11/25/2015 “Abba, do you want to wrestle?” asked my four-year-old daughter hopefully- “Sure,” I said, “How do we start?” “First, you go on that side of the bed, and I go on this side of the bed. We have to make mean faces and put our fists in the air. Then, we fall forward face down… and then… we wrestle!” When I was in seventh grade, I was on the wrestling team, but we never started a wrestling match quite like that. Hilarious. But that’s what we did: We made our mean wrestling faces, put our fists in the air, fell onto the bed, and then… we wrestled! Sort of… Wrestling with a little four-year-old girl is not exactly fair. She thinks we’re wrestling, but I'm calling the shots. I pretend to struggle, then I fall over and say, “Oh no, she’s getting me! She’s getting me!”- but really, it's an illusion. Kind of like when we wrestle with Reality. We can groan and moan, complain and blame, and somehow the mind thinks that all this drama will get us somewhere... but of course, it's an illusion too. We can do a lot to change our situation for the future, but we can never do anything to change what has already become. And yet, in the case of wrestling with my daughter, just because it’s an illusion doesn’t mean it’s worthless. The real value is not in the struggle itself, but the blessing of connection that comes from the struggle. In this week’s reading, Jacob demands that a blessing comes from his struggle. Jacob is once again in a dark place. He has received word that his brother Esau is coming toward him with four hundred men, and he fears for his life: “Jacob became very frightened and distressed, so he divided the people, flocks, cattle and camels into two camps…” (Gen. 32:8) If Esau attacks half of his camp, at least the other half will survive. He then sends tributes ahead to appease his brother and prays for his life. Night falls. After sending his family across the river, a strange thing happens- “He spent the night there… Jacob was left alone and a man wrestled with him until the break of dawn…” The “night” is his not knowing- his anxiety about the danger that might befall him. So, he “wrestles” with his situation- meaning, he resists the truth of his predicament. Of course, it’s not a fair fight- the “wrestling” is an illusion. You can’t fight with Reality. But eventually, the “man” says to Jacob, “Let me go, for the dawn has broken!” In every experience of fear, anger, frustration or loss, there comes a time to “let it go”. To “let it go” means you stop telling yourself stories about it, that you stop torturing yourself with it. But- is there a value in not letting it go? Jacob thinks so: “I will not let you go until you bless me!” Jacob knows that the real value is not in the struggle itself, but in the blessing that comes from the struggle. The mysterious man concedes and says: “No longer will it be said that your name is Jacob, but Yisrael, for you have striven (Sarita) with the Divine and with man and have prevailed.” Jacob insists on a blessing, so his opponent gives him the title of one who has mastered his situation. It’s true- Jacob has done everything he could do with both God and man to take responsibility: He’s split his camp to ensure the survival of at least half of them. He’s sent many gifts to appease his brother. He’s prayed to God for safety and protection. And now, after an all night struggle with his anxiety and fear, the dawn is breaking. He’s done his best- he has become Yisrael- and now he’s ready to let go, surrendered to whatever is going to happen. But something is missing. He is not satisfied with the mere title of Yisrael, there’s something he still needs to learn- so he asks a question: “Vayishal Ya’akov- Jacob asked- ‘Tell me please your name!’” The word for “asked” is “yishal”- the same letters as his new name, “Yisrael,” except that it’s missing a letter Reish. The letter Reish means “head”. It implies authority, as in the “head of a school” or the “head of a company” and so on. As Yisrael, Jacob has used his head wisely- he’s thought through his situation and acted as the responsible “head” of his family. But in asking a question, Yisrael becomes Yishal- he loses the Reish,as if to say, “my head is incomplete- there’s something I don’t yet know.” What is it that he doesn’t know? He doesn’t know the identity of the “man” that he’s wrestling with. In other words, even though he might be ready to give up his struggle, he doesn’t yet understand the nature of his struggle. Jacob’s opponent answers him with yet another question: “Why do you ask me my name?” His opponent puts a question back onto Jacob: What’s your motivation in asking? When we experience the inner pain of resistance, there comes a time when we accept and let go. Little children do this all the time- they’re great a letting go. But that doesn’t help them stay out of trouble in the future. The next moment, they’re upset about something else. There’s no self reflection- no sense of how they create their own suffering. But if you take the time to really look at your own motivation- ask yourself, “How am I creating my experience?” then there’s the possibility for growth, for actually responding to life with a new wisdom. That kind of wisdom can only be won through the real struggles of your life. But the struggle itself doesn’t automatically give it to you. You have to hold on to it a little longer and deeply inquire into yourself, before the “dawn” makes you forget all about it. The wisdom you get from that self-inquiry is the true blessing. When you experience the blessing that only comes through suffering, the suffering takes on a whole new dimension. It’s no longer your enemy. Behind your troubles and problems, there is the Divine Friend, urging you to grow, to evolve. In Psalm 119, the psalmist says to God: “I am a stranger on the earth- hide not your commandments from me!” On this verse, the Hassidic rebbe, Rabbi Barukh of Mezbizh, taught: “When a person is driven into exile and comes to a strange and alien land, he has nothing in common with the people there and not a soul he can talk to. But, if a second stranger appears, even though the new stranger comes from a totally different place, the two can confide in one another, and come to cherish one another. And had they not both been strangers, they never would have known such close companionship. And that’s what the psalmist means: ‘You, just like me, are a stranger on this earth, for Your Divinity is hidden by my pain and suffering. So please, do not withdraw from me, but reveal to me your ‘commandments’- reveal to me the wisdom that can only be learned through this suffering- and let us be friends…’” On this Shabbos Vayishlakh, the Shabbat of Sending, may our personal pain and all the troubles of the world be sent far away. But before it goes, may we extract the Light that can only come from the darkness- the self-knowledge we need to evolve. And as we approach the time of Hanukah, may that Light ever increase as the lights of the menorah, helping our whole species to evolve. May we dedicate ourselves ever more completely to the revelation of this Light! Good Shabbos, b yosef Send Yourself Home- Parshat Vayishlakh 12/4/2014 2 Comments Where have you been? This week’s reading, Parshat Vayishlakh, opens: “Vayishlakh Yaakov malakhim lefanav el Eisav akhiv- Jacob sent angels before him to his brother Esau…” Jacob had been away from Esau for twenty years. After Jacob had tricked their father Isaac and stolen Esau’s blessing and birthright, he fled for his life from his brother. Now, as he prepares to return to Esau, he sends angels to deliver gifts and bring back information. Esau is an ish sadeh- a man of the field- a hunter and trapper. In other words, Esau represents the physical. Jacob is a yoshev ohalim- one who “dwells tents”. According to tradition, this was the tent of learning, of the mind. Esau and Jacob, then, represent the spectrum of human existence- from the physicality of our bodies to the inner worlds of mind and thought. Our bodies generally serve our minds, to our detriment. If our minds served our bodies, would we poison ourselves with toxic foods and stress? It is easy to take the body for granted, to make it serve our intentions, as if the mind is the adult and the body is the child. The truth, however, is that the body is older; the body is the “first born”. Only later did the mind develop. And yet, the body is often ignored, except to gratify it. We tend to live in the mind, in the world of time, not in the real world of the body that lives in the eternal present. Our minds have “stolen the birthright” of our bodies. Like Jacob, we flee the present world of the body into the mind in order to manipulate and control, just as Jacob used his mind to outsmart the trickster Laban. But at some point, we must return home to our bodies or we become stuck in the world of lies, the world of the mind with its calculations and projections. We must return to the eternal present, to the world of truth, to the physical. The irony is that in returning to the physical, we discover the spiritual, for that which is aware of the physical is itself spiritual. But if we stay preoccupied with the mental, awareness becomes stuck in the world of thought and separation. So what is the solution? Like Jacob- send the angels of your awareness all the way down into your body. Let your body feel the sun, the air, the rain, the whole natural world. Pour your awareness all the way down to your feet. Take off your shoes, let your heels touch the earth. In fact, Jacob’s name means “heel”. As long as Jacob is stuck in the mind, he is paradoxically a “heel”- a manipulator. But as he prepares to meet and honor the physical, wrestling on the dark earth with his mysterious foe, he receives the name Yisrael- meaning one who “strives for" or "wrestles with the Divine”. His name is not changed; he is still Jacob, but now he is also Israel. Rather than being a "heel" in the negative sense, he becomes like the bodily heel- supporting the higher structures of the mind through full connection with the earth and the present. G-d is ever-present, but are you present? Send the “present” of your awareness into your body, and receive what your body has to tell you. In this unity of presence with form, of awareness with the body, the Divine reveals Itself: The basic and simple Oneness of Being, manifesting in the gorgeous and awesome miracle of this moment… |
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