Parshah Summary – P’shat (literal level)
The parshah begins with the Children of Israel encamped in the wilderness of Paran, and Moses sends out twelve spies to the land of Canaan. After forty days, they return with great reports, carrying some of the land’s bounty: an enormous cluster of grapes, a pomegranate and a fig. But, ten of the spies warn that the inhabitants of the land are giants and warriors; only Caleb and Joshua insist that the land can be conquered. The people side with the ten naysayers and complain that they would rather return to Egypt. In response, Hashem decrees that the entire present generation of the Children of Israel will wander in the desert for forty years until they all perish, and only their offspring will enter the Promised Land. When they hear this news, a group of them storms a mountain on the border, but they are swiftly defeated by the Amalekites and Canaanites. Hashem then gives mitzvot about the offerings of grain, wine and oil that their descendants should bring when they enter the land, as well as the mitzvah to consecrate a portion of dough when making bread, which is the origin of challah. Finally, a man is found gathering sticks on Shabbat. In response, the mitzvah of tzitzit, which are special fringes worn on the four corners of garments, is given as a bodily reminder of the mitzvot.
Torah of Awakening
שְׁלַח־לְךָ֣ אֲנָשִׁ֗ים וְיָתֻ֙רוּ֙ אֶת־אֶ֣רֶץ כְּנַ֔עַן אֲשֶׁר־אֲנִ֥י נֹתֵ֖ן לִבְנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל אִ֣ישׁ אֶחָד֩ אִ֨ישׁ אֶחָ֜ד לְמַטֵּ֤ה אֲבֹתָיו֙ תִּשְׁלָ֔חוּ כֹּ֖ל נָשִׂ֥יא בָהֶֽם׃ Send for yourself people to spy out the land of Canaan that I am giving to the Children of Israel, one person from each of their ancestral tribes you shall send, each one a leader among them... - Bamidbar (Numbers) 13:2, Parshat Bamidbar
There is a story of Rabbi Hersh of Zydatchov, that once when he was a traveling preacher visiting the town of Brody, a number of opponents of Hasidism surrounded him, attacked him, and drove him out of town. Rabbi Hersh describes his experience:
“On the day before Shabbos, they drove me out of the town of Brody and I was in great disgrace. I walked on and on without stopping, and when I got home toward the evening, just before Shabbos, I went to the Beis Medresh in my workday clothes and could barely manage to daven any of the prayers. But in the morning, before davening, I prayed to Hashem: ‘Ribono Shel Olam, Master of the Universe, You see the humiliation of those who have been humiliated, and You see my crushed heart. Give me Light so that I can pray to You!’ Then, suddenly, my heart caught fire. My prayer was a flowing flame. Never before had that happened to me, and I expect it never will again.” In the story, Rabbi Hersh goes through a traumatic experience that seems to destroy his ability pray, and yet, when he prays to be able to pray, it becomes the catalyst for the deepest spiritual experience of his life. The key was not to succumb to the deadening effect of his emotional pain, but to use that pain and elevate it into his own, personal, heartfelt prayer. This is possible only if we are able to courageously confront our pain, rather than be resigned to its deadening effect; this is the Path of כ Kaf, the practice of boldly coming into the truth of our experience. עֲל֥וּ זֶה֙ בַּנֶּ֔גֶב וַעֲלִיתֶ֖ם אֶת־הָהָֽר׃ – “Go up into the Negev and ascend the mountain…” When the spies ascend the mountain and return with giant grapes, pomegranates and figs, they report: “Yes! This land flows with milk and honey and these are some of the wonderful fruits growing there. But, the inhabitants of the land are giants; they would destroy us!” וַנְּהִ֤י בְעֵינֵ֙ינוּ֙ כַּֽחֲגָבִ֔ים וְכֵ֥ן הָיִ֖ינוּ בְּעֵינֵיהֶֽם׃ – We were like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and so we were in their eyes… Once a person knows what it is to ascend the “mountain” of transcendence and partake of the “fruits” of joy and bliss that come from such an awakening, there can be frustration and resignation when they “come down” into the place of ordinary, sometimes negative emotions such anger, fear, sadness, and so on. That is when we need the words of Yehoshua – the words of encouragement that Joshua speaks to them: יהֹוָ֥ה אִתָּ֖נוּ אַל־תִּירָאֻֽם׃ – The Divine is with us; don’t be afraid of them! Meaning, even though you have come down from the “mountain” of transcendence, in fact nothing has changed; that transcendence of the “mountain” is still the open space of your own awareness within which the experience of negativity arises. You can conquer any negativity not by fighting against it, but by using it, by crying out to the Divine from the heart. וַֽיהֹוָ֥ה אִתָּ֖נוּ The Divine is with us – your very nature is Divine, it is the miracle of consciousness that feels the pain in the first place. But, that is not what happens in the parshah; instead, the Israelites are afraid. They say, “Forget it! Let’s go back to Egypt.” Meaning, let’s go back to the ordinary and familiar way of being, before we experienced transcendence. And then, they change their minds again out of fear of punishment, and try to go fight the enemy after all. But Moses says to them: וְלֹא־יִהְיֶ֥ה יְהֹוָ֖ה עִמָּכֶֽם׃ – God will not be with you! They go anyway, and fail. How can this be? If our nature is Divine, how can that change? Of course, it doesn’t change, it is our awareness of this fact that changes. We get seduced by our feelings and believe them into giants. Rather than know our own vastness, “we were like grasshoppers in our own eyes…” Grasshoppers don’t want to get crushed, so we try and fight our feelings, try to push them away, or deny them, and that just creates inner conflict so that: “we were grasshoppers in their eyes” – meaning, the pain that we fight gets bigger and bigger, because negativity is empowered by more negativity. On the other hand, if you know יהֹוָ֥ה אִתָּ֖נוּ The Divine is with us – meaning, the Divine is literally your own nature, then: אַל־תִּירָאֻֽם Don’t be afraid of them! There is never anything to be afraid of in your experience! You’re on top of the world? No big deal it’s a passing experience. You’re in the depths of hell? No problem, it will pass. Rather than get caught up in your experience of the moment, which is always changing, realize the space of the moment within which your experience is arising. You can do this through the synergism of prayer and meditation: “Oh Hashem, help me through this darkness, open me to Your Light!” And then, take the time to open to that Light which is your essence – this is meditation. Then you will know the truth of the words of Yehoshua: אַל־תִּֽירְאוּ֙ אֶת־עַ֣ם הָאָ֔רֶץ – Don’t be afraid of the people of the land – meaning, don’t be afraid of any particular experience that arise – כִּ֥י לַחְמֵ֖נוּ הֵ֑ם – for they are our bread – meaning, when you stand courageously in the midst of difficult experiences, they become food for your awakening, deepening your grounded-ness in the reality of Presence. Then you’ll know directly: יהֹוָ֥ה אִתָּ֖נוּ אַל־תִּירָאֻֽם – the Divine is with you; there’s nothing to be afraid of. So, in this week of Shabbat Shelakh, the Sabbath of Sending, let us courageously come in the truth of our experience and work from there to send forth our prayers from the heart, from the depths of whatever pain arises in our experience, and open fully that we may convert all pain into Light!
Read past teachings on Shelakh L’kha HERE.
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Parshah Summary – P’shat (literal level)
Aaron is instructed to kindle the lamps of the menorah, and the tribe of Levi is initiated into their duties in the Mishkan (Sanctuary). Those who were unable to bring the Pesakh (Passover) offering on the festival, due to being tamei (ritually impure), approach Moses and petition him to be permitted to bring their offerings later. In response, a Pesakh Sheini, a “Second Passover,” is instituted. Israel’s journeys and encampments are then described – they would be guided by the ascending and descending movements of a cloud by day and fire by night over the mishkan. Moses is instructed to make two silver trumpets through which the community would be signaled for journeying, for battle and for festivals. The people then begin moving in formation from Mt. Sinai, where they had been camped for nearly a year. Next, the people complain to Moses about their dissatisfaction with the man (“manna”), the “bread from heaven” with which they were miraculously fed in the wilderness, and they demand that Moses provide them with meat. In response, Moses appoints seventy elders to assist him in the burden of governing, and the people are all fed by numerous quail which descend upon the camp. Miriam speaks judgmentally to Aaron about Moses’ wife and questions his leadership. As a consequence, she contracts tzara’at, the skin affliction associated lashon hara (gossip, slander). Moses prays for her healing with the words, El na refa na la, and the entire community waits seven days for her recovery…
Torah of Awakening
דַּבֵּר֙ אֶֽל־אַהֲרֹ֔ן וְאָמַרְתָּ֖ אֵלָ֑יו בְּהַעֲלֹֽתְךָ֙ אֶת־הַנֵּרֹ֔ת אֶל־מוּל֙ פְּנֵ֣י הַמְּנוֹרָ֔ה יָאִ֖ירוּ שִׁבְעַ֥ת הַנֵּרֽוֹת׃ Speak to Aaron, and say to him: when you kindle the lamps, toward the face of the menorah shall the lamps cast light… - Bamidbar (Numbers) 8:2, Parshat Beha’alotkha
Once, when Reb Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev was traveling, he stopped to spend the night in the town of Lwow. He knocked on the door of a very wealthy man and asked for lodging. “I have no use for vagrants like you! Why don’t you stay at the inn?” said the man. “I am not able to afford the inn,” replied Reb Levi Yitzhak. “Please, I won’t be any trouble, let me stay in one of your rooms just for the night.”
“Well then, if you can’t afford the inn,” said the miserly rich man, “go around the corner to the schoolteacher. He likes to take in vagrants, and he will offer you a room, food and drink.” So, Reb Levi Yitzhak went around the corner to the schoolteacher and was offered lodging. But on his way there, someone in the town recognized him, and began to spread the word that the great Rabbi Levi Yitzhak was at the schoolteacher’s house. Before long, there were throngs of people crowding the house, trying to get a blessing from the master. Among the crowd was the miserly rich man, who pushed his way to the front. “Master! Master! Forgive me! I didn’t know who you were! Please come and stay with me. All the great rabbis who come through town stay with me!” “Do you know,” replied Reb Levi Yitzhak, “why such a fuss is made over Avraham and Sarah for their hospitality when they opened their home to the visiting angels and gave them food and drink? Didn’t Lot also invite them in and give them food? But in the Torah’s description about Lot, it says: וַ֠יָּבֹ֠אוּ שְׁנֵ֨י הַמַּלְאָכִ֤ים סְדֹ֙מָה֙ – two angels came to Sodom… But with Avraham, it says: שְׁלֹשָׁ֣ה אֲנָשִׁ֔ים נִצָּבִ֖ים עָלָ֑יו – three men were standing over him… “You see, Lot saw majestic angels, whereas Avraham saw only dusty wayfarers…” In this story, Reb Levi Yitzhak points out the hypocritical ulterior motive of the miser. Hospitality is a basic middah, a fundamental quality of the spiritual life, not a tool for elevating our status, which really means reinforcing and enhancing ego – that illusory self-sense which arises from identification with thoughts and feelings. It is easy to see the value of helping others out of love, without ulterior motive. But the “dusty wayfarers” of the story are not just people in need; they can be any undesirable experiences that come to us. When was the last time you were annoyed with something or someone? Were you able to open yourself fully? Did you give your attention generously to the situation or were you like the miserly fellow: “Don’t bother me!” Every experience is an opportunity to remember: “This, now, is the Divine, appearing to me in this form. This, now, is an opportunity to transcend ego and welcome this moment as it appears, to welcome the Divine which comes in the form of this moment.” But to do that, we have to be aware not only of what is happening around us, but of what is happening within us: אֶל־מוּל֙ פְּנֵ֣י הַמְּנוֹרָ֔ה יָאִ֖ירוּ שִׁבְעַ֥ת הַנֵּרֽוֹת – toward the face of the menorah shall the seven lamps shine… How can the lamps shine their light “toward the face of the menorah?” After all, it is the nature of fire to shine outward in all directions; you can’t “point” the light “toward” anything. But if we understand that the “light” represents our awareness, and the “menorah” represents our own bodies, then the metaphor can be instructive. Ordinarily, our “light” tends to shine “outward,” creating the sense of “me” in the body, looking out. But shine your “light” back into your body, and you will be able to sense your own impulses, your own feelings. Through this intentional act of “self” awareness, there is the potential to awaken – to transcend the “self” – meaning, to transcend the self-sense which is created through identification with thought and feeling. Through this transcendence, we can recognize: we are not our thoughts and feelings alone. We are the light. And in recognizing our deepest selves as this light, then there is the genuine potential to overcome that tendency toward “ulterior motive,” and to be an actual light of welcome. There are three basic steps to this process: First, we must intentionally say “yes” to whatever comes to us; we must affirm the Presence that stands before us, as it is, as unsatisfactory as it might be. This step is internal; it is about our attitude toward the truth of this moment, and is represented by the letter ו vav, which has the meaning of “and.” Second, we must recognize the Divine Reality which is present within the form that this moment has taken – the inner essence of Being behind all phenomena. This step is also internal, and is represented by the letter ט tet which begins the word טוֹב – “goodness.” Third, we must “welcome the dusty wayfarer” – that is, take some action to express our hospitality toward the Divine before us. This may mean actual hospitality, or generosity in listening and empathizing, or it may be simply in our smile and tone of voice. This step is external, and is represented by the letter ב bet, which means “house,” hinting both at the hospitality we can express through sharing our homes, as well as the mishkan (the portable Sanctuary of the Israelites), and later the ancient Temple in Jerusalem, which was the “House” of the Divine Presence. Together, these three letters form the word טוֹב tov – “goodness!” May we bring forth the goodness that is our essence by shining our light of hospitality both within and then out into the world, doing our part to transform the tiny corner of the universe we inhabit into a Home for the Divine.
Read past teachings on Beha'alotkha HERE.
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Torah of Awakening
וּסְפַרְתֶּ֤ם לָכֶם֙ מִמׇּחֳרַ֣ת הַשַּׁבָּ֔ת מִיּוֹם֙ הֲבִ֣יאֲכֶ֔ם אֶת־עֹ֖מֶר הַתְּנוּפָ֑ה שֶׁ֥בַע שַׁבָּת֖וֹת תְּמִימֹ֥ת תִּהְיֶֽינָה׃ You shall count from the day after the Sabbath, from the day on which you bring the sheaf of elevation, seven Sabbaths; they must be complete… - Vayikra (Leviticus) 23:15
In the supermarket, there are eggs and chickens that are labeled “cage free,” implying that they aren’t confined to tiny little cages as are most commercial chickens, but are instead happily running around a vast outdoor space. Unfortunately, “cage-free” doesn’t really mean cage-free at all. It means that for a certain portion of the day, the doors on the cages are opened so that the chickens can escape if they want to. Only, they don’t; the chickens always choose to stay in their cages. (If you want chickens that actually walk around the farm, I think you have to buy “pastured” eggs and chickens.)
Why don’t the chickens leave their little cages when the doors are opened? Because they are conditioned to be in their cages; they don’t realize they can leave. Perhaps, if they had more time, their instinct for freedom would eventually lead them to discover the opening. But, the doors aren’t open long enough for that; they’re only open long enough for the company to be able to legally label their product as “cage-free.” And, it’s the same with us. At the seder, there is a song in which we label ourselves as free: Avadim hayinu, ata b’nai khorin – we were slaves, now we are free. But are we free? The “cage door” is actually always already open, ready for us to step through. But can we see that? Like the chickens, we only step through if we have the time to discover that open door, if we have the time for that impulse for freedom to grow within. אֲנִ֣י שָׁמַ֗עְתִּי אֶֽת־נַאֲקַת֙ בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל – “I have heard the cries of the Children of Israel…” It was only after the suffering of the Israelites had become ripe that they were ready for freedom, that God “heard their cries.” We too need to let ourselves ripen, so we can come to “see” our own suffering, so that we may recognize – we are the seeing; we are not trapped. And once the time is ripe, this recognition takes only an instant. But then, after this recognition, we need more time to walk through the door and discover how to roam the “farm,” to explore the wild terrain of the uncharted midbar, rather than return to the security of the cage. In other words, we need to discover how to live our freedom. But like the Israelites, the tendency is to revert, to backslide: הֲֽמִבְּלִ֤י אֵין־קְבָרִים֙ בְּמִצְרַ֔יִם לְקַחְתָּ֖נוּ לָמ֣וּת בַּמִּדְבָּ֑ר –“Weren’t there enough graves in Egypt that you took us to die in the wilderness?” - Shemot (Exodus) 14:11 So, the journey of awakening has an aspect that takes takes no time at all, that takes only an instant to realize: the cage door is open. But, leading up to that moment, it takes time for awareness to ripen – to disentangle itself from its identifications for long enough to be able to see that this is the case. This is the whole point of sitting in meditation; in the stillness, awareness can, in time, shift and recognize its own freedom from the “cage.” The “cage” is made from the patterns of our thoughts and feelings; it is our identity. But, the open space is our awareness. It is the field of consciousness, within which our experience in this moment is now appearing. Everything within our experience arises from and falls back into this open space, including the cage of thoughts and feelings. In truth, it is not that we must go out into the open space, we are the open space. By taking time to disengage from the activity of thought and feeling, we can recognize – we are awareness; we are already free. In that recognition we can say with sincerity, avadim hayinu, we thought were slaves, but now, ata b’nai khorin – now we realize that we are actually free. לְמַ֣עַן תִּזְכֹּ֗ר אֶת־י֤וֹם צֵֽאתְךָ֙ מֵאֶ֣רֶץ מִצְרַ֔יִם כֹּ֖ל יְמֵ֥י חַיֶּֽיךָ – so that you may remember the day you went out from Egypt all the days of your life. - Devarim (Deuteronomy) 16:3 But, to then go and live that freedom, to not only see the open door, to not only see the unboundedness beyond the cage, but to step out and live as if that freedom is true, that is an ongoing process. It is not the hurried “going out from Egypt,” when there is no time to let the dough rise. The matzah is that instant realization that happens when the time is ripe – direct connection with the simplicity of the moment, before the “yeast bubbles” cause separation between “me” and the world. But this second, time-bound aspect requires living into this question: how may we translate the freedom that we are into words and deeds, into a way of living? The Sefirat HaOmer is a prompt to that question. As we count each of the 49 days between Pesakh and Shavuot, we walk the path from liberation to revelation – from the instantaneous realization of freedom (Pesakh) to the long-term project of living that freedom (Shavuot). The Sefirat HaOmer gives us a map of seven times seven spiritual qualities: Hesed – “Lovingkindness” – are you motivated by love? What about when something that doesn’t feel loving happens to you? Can you be a warrior of the love motivation, or do you become a victim? Life has plenty of the opposite of love in it. But living freedom means choosing to live from love, even when external and even internal forces are pushing you in other directions. Which brings us to Gevurah – “Strength.” In Pirkei Avot, Ben Zoma says, Ezehu gibor? Who is strong? Who has Gevurah? Hakoveish yitzro – one who masters their own motivation. Because then you’re not tossed around by circumstances – then you can radiate gracefulness, equanimity. And that’s the third quality: Tiferet – “Grace, Beauty.” Through this inner balancing, you can be victorious over the powers of time and change, knowing HaMakom, the Eternal Space within which everything is happening, and knowing yourself as that Space. That is Netzakh, which means Victory, but also Eternity. And from that rootedness in the Eternal, arises a gratitude for the ever-present simple blessings, a humble gratitude for the simple privilege just to be. That is Hod, which means Gratitude and Humility. And out of the positive vibration of this simple humility and gratitude arises the pleasure of connection – the Eros, the joy of living, of communing with the Presence as it manifests in this moment. That’s Yesod, which means Foundation, because the enjoyment of life is the foundation of life. If you can’t enjoy, then all the richness of meaning and value will slowly drain away. But with that joy, there can also arise a deep sense of Presence in the body, on this earth, of trusting the process, of trusting that Reality has its own endgame, in a sense. That is Malkhut, “Kingdom,” pointing to the idea that all Reality is really a Divine “Kingdom/Queendom,” and that the union of “King” and “Queen,” of Kudsha Brikh Hu Ushekhintei, the Holy Transcendent Space with the Imminent Presence, happens through us, through our Pesakh realization and our Shavuot application, through our counting of the qualities and bringing them into being in our own lives, day after day, each day anew. There is a story that a disciple of Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev came to the master and asked: “In the Talmud it says that a tzaddik, a perfect person, can’t stand in the place of the Ba’al T’shuvah, one who was wicked but who has turned to the Divine and transformed. According to this, one who has been blameless from youth is at a lower level than one who has done many misdeeds. How can this be?” Rabbi Levi Yitzhak replied, “A person who perceives a new light every day, light that wasn’t perceived the day before, must leave behind the way they lived in the past, and start afresh to embody the new light. The blameless ones who believe they are already perfect don’t perceive the new light, and so there is no transformation.” May the counting of the Omer remind us to constantly open ourselves to a new light every day, to find a fresh path for embodying the freedom that we are…
Read past teachings on HaOmer HERE.
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Parshah Summary – P’shat (literal level)
The parshah opens in the Sinai Desert encampment, with the Children of Israel receiving instructions to conduct a census of men suitable for battle from the twelve tribes, between 20 to 60 years of age. The tribe of Levi is excluded, but included are the two sons of Yosef, keeping the number of tribes twelve. The tribe of Levi, who is to serve as the spiritual leadership, is counted separately. These Levi’im (Levites) are given responsibility for the Mishkan (Sanctuary), and all of its vessels and sacrificial equipment. Whenever the Children of Israel would break down the camp to travel, the three Levite clans would dismantle and transport the Mishkan, and then reassemble it at the center of the next encampment. They then erected their own tents around it. The Kohathites, who carried the Sanctuary’s ritual objects (such as the Ark and menorah) on their shoulders, camped to its south; the Gershonites, in charge of its tapestries and roof coverings, to its west; and the families of Merari, who transported its wall panels and pillars, to its north. Before the Sanctuary’s entranceway, to its east, were the tents of Moses, Aaron, and Aaron’s sons, who served as the kohanim, the priests. Beyond the Levite circle, the twelve tribes camped in four groups of three tribes each. To the east were Yehudah, Yissakhar, and Zevulun; to the south, Reuvein, Shimon and Gad; to the west, Ephraim, Manasheh, and Binyamin; and to the north, Dan, Asher and Naphtali. This formation was kept also while traveling. Each tribe had its own nassi (prince or leader), and its own flag with its tribal color and emblem...
Torah of Awakening
וַיְדַבֵּ֨ר יְהֹוָ֧ה אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֛ה בְּמִדְבַּ֥ר סִינַ֖י בְּאֹ֣הֶל מוֹעֵ֑ד בְּאֶחָד֩ לַחֹ֨דֶשׁ הַשֵּׁנִ֜י בַּשָּׁנָ֣ה הַשֵּׁנִ֗ית לְצֵאתָ֛ם מֵאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרַ֖יִם לֵאמֹֽר׃ שְׂא֗וּ אֶת־רֹאשׁ֙ כׇּל־עֲדַ֣ת בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל לְמִשְׁפְּחֹתָ֖ם לְבֵ֣ית אֲבֹתָ֑ם בְּמִסְפַּ֣ר שֵׁמ֔וֹת כׇּל־זָכָ֖ר לְגֻלְגְּלֹתָֽם׃ Hashem spoke to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai, in the Tent of Meeting, on the first day of the second month, in the second year from the Exodus from he land of Egypt, saying: “Raise up the heads (take a census) of the whole (battle ready) assembly of the Children of Israel according to their families, according to their ancestral houses, listing the names, every (battle ready) male, according to their count.” - BaMidbar (Numbers) 1:1,2; Parshat Bamidbar
Yankel wasn’t inclined to do physical exercise. But as he got older, he realized that he had better take care of his body, or he would be in trouble. So, he hired a personal trainer to motivate him out of his sloth and help him to work out. The personal trainer began by coming to his house every day. First, she taught him the exercises that would be best for him. But when it came to actually doing them, Yankel was so lazy, that the trainer would have to yell cheers to get him to exert himself. “Come on you can do it!” she would shout. “That’s seven, just three more to go! Do it!”
Over time, Yankel’s resistance seemed to drop away, and it became easier and easier for the trainer to motivate him. After several weeks, the trainer didn’t have to do anything except come over and make sure Yankel was working out, simply by witnessing him. Yankel even shouted out his own motivational cheers: “I can do it! One! Two! Just eight more to go! Getting stronger! Three!” Eventually, the trainer didn’t even come inside, but just listened at the door. She would hear Yankel yelling to himself: “Getting stronger and stronger! I can do it! Five! Six! Four more to go!” When she would hear him yelling through the door, she would leave, satisfied that he had established his workout habit. But, when they had a meeting after several months to evaluate and adjust his routine, she noticed that he didn’t look like he was exercising at all; he was just as unfit looking as he had been before they began. “How strange! I hear you working out every day, but it seems to not be working!” “Oh, I haven’t been working out,” said Yankel. “But I come by every day and hear you doing it!” said the trainer. “Oh, that’s just me yelling, not actually working out,” said Yankel. “I figured if you heard me yelling, you would think I was working out and leave me alone.” When it comes to prayer, many folks are just like Yankel – perhaps going through the motions, saying the words, but nothing is really happening. It’s not that the words are irrelevant – as with working out, the cheers and counting of reps can be a good accompaniment to exercise, but they do not substitute for exercise. Similarly, with prayer, the traditional words are a beautiful accompaniment, and even a beautiful expression of prayer, but they are not the prayer itself. As long as the words are helping us do the real inner activity of prayer, they are doing their job. But if they become a substitute for prayer, then we are missing a vital opportunity. It is understandable that the form of prayer – how many times per day, what texts to say, and so on, could easily eclipse the real, inner reality of prayer, because the form is quantifiable. You can easily define how to fulfill the prayer in form. But the inner reality of prayer is connection with the Timeless, with Un-Countable… שְׂא֗וּ אֶת־רֹאשׁ֙ כָּל־עֲדַ֣ת בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל – Lift the head (take a head count) of the whole community of the Children of Israel… This is about quantifying the people, giving them a number, so as to know how many soldiers they have. On the other hand, the haftaora begins…
וְֽ֠הָיָה מִסְפַּ֤ר בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵל֙ כְּח֣וֹל הַיָּ֔ם אֲשֶׁ֥ר לֹֽא־יִמַּ֖ד וְלֹ֣א יִסָּפֵ֑ר וְֽ֠הָיָה בִּמְק֞וֹם אֲשֶׁר־יֵאָמֵ֤ר לָהֶם֙ לֹֽא־עַמִּ֣י אַתֶּ֔ם יֵאָמֵ֥ר לָהֶ֖ם בְּנֵ֥י אֵֽל־חָֽי׃
The number of the Children of Israel shall be like sands of the sea, which are not measured or counted; instead of being told, “You are Not-My-People,” they shall be called “Children of the Living God.” - Hosea 2:1
The text then leaves this uplifting vision, “Children of the Living God,” and talks about how they have strayed from the Divine and run after idols, the ba’alim. Israel is compared to a harlot, an unfaithful wife, running after other lovers. Why does she do this?
אֵלְכָ֞ה אַחֲרֵ֤י מְאַֽהֲבַי֙ נֹתְנֵ֤י לַחְמִי֙ וּמֵימַ֔י צַמְרִ֣י וּפִשְׁתִּ֔י שַׁמְנִ֖י וְשִׁקּוּיָֽי׃ – “I will go after my lovers, for they will give me my bread and water, my wool and linin, my oil and my drink.” In other words, the Children of Israel aren’t satisfied; they want more. Rather than appreciate what is present, they run after that which is not present; they imagine they can achieve more gratification. But…
וְרִדְּפָ֤ה אֶת־מְאַהֲבֶ֙יהָ֙ וְלֹא־תַשִּׂ֣יג אֹתָ֔ם וּבִקְשָׁ֖תַם וְלֹ֣א תִמְצָ֑א וְאָמְרָ֗ה אֵלְכָ֤ה וְאָשׁ֙וּבָה֙ אֶל־אִישִׁ֣י הָרִאשׁ֔וֹן כִּ֣י ט֥וֹב לִ֛י אָ֖ז מֵעָֽתָּה׃
Pursue her lovers as she will, she shall not overtake them; and seek them as she may, she shall never find them. Then she will say, “I will go and return to my First Husband, for then I fared better than now.”
Eventually, Israel realizes that the obsession with more, also called “idolatry,” only causes her suffering, and so she comes to appreciate the gifts she had and thereby returns to true connection with the Divine. The hint here is that, on a deep and practical level, “idolatry” really means to fixate on that which is not present; it means to elevate the images we “engrave” in our minds above the actual Reality right in front of us. The “idol” is that which is not present; the true Divine is Presence.
Of course, there is nothing wrong with imagining what we need or want in the future; that is the job of the mind. We have to count and quantify; we have to make maps of the world in order to navigate life. The point is not to elevate the map over the territory; the point is not to live in your mind, but to live in the Living Present. The maps of the mind are useful, but they are not alive: פֶּֽה־לָ֭הֶם וְלֹ֣א יְדַבֵּ֑רוּ – They have mouths, but cannot speak… - Psalm 15 The “Divine,” however, means That which speaks to us from amidst the “wilderness” of life: וַיְדַבֵּ֨ר יְהוָ֧ה אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֛ה בְּמִדְבַּ֥ר סִינַ֖י – The Divine spoke to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai… Right now, and always, Hashem is speaking. The words aren’t necessarily conveying a conceptual message, but when we deeply connect with the truth of this moment, then Reality Itself can be received as the Divine Speech, shaking us from the virtual reality of the mind and into the Living Present. And when we receive the moment in this way, hearing the unfolding of Reality as Divine Speech, then we can connect with the essence of prayer, putting our conscious intention into each syllable, as we call back to the One that constantly calls to us. This is the Path of פ Pei, “Presence in Speech.”
Read past teachings on BaMidbar HERE.
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“Coming Into the Field of Being”| ד DALET – “Receptivity”
Parshah Summary – P’shat (literal level)
The parshah opens on mount Sinai (b’har – “on the mountain”) with the laws of the Sabbatical year: every seventh year, all work on the land should cease, and its produce becomes free for the taking for all, human and beast. Seven Sabbatical cycles are followed by a fiftieth year— the Jubilee year, on which work on the land ceases, all indentured servants are set free, and all ancestral estates that have been sold revert to their original owners. Additional laws governing the sale of lands, and the prohibitions against fraud and usury, are also given… Torah of Awakening וַיְדַבֵּ֤ר יְהֹוָה֙ אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה בְּהַ֥ר סִינַ֖י לֵאמֹֽר׃ דַּבֵּ֞ר אֶל־בְּנֵ֤י יִשְׂרָאֵל֙ וְאָמַרְתָּ֣ אֲלֵהֶ֔ם כִּ֤י תָבֹ֙אוּ֙ אֶל־הָאָ֔רֶץ אֲשֶׁ֥ר אֲנִ֖י נֹתֵ֣ן לָכֶ֑ם וְשָׁבְתָ֣ה הָאָ֔רֶץ שַׁבָּ֖ת לַיהֹוָֽה׃ שֵׁ֤שׁ שָׁנִים֙ תִּזְרַ֣ע שָׂדֶ֔ךָ וְשֵׁ֥שׁ שָׁנִ֖ים תִּזְמֹ֣ר כַּרְמֶ֑ךָ וְאָסַפְתָּ֖ אֶת־תְּבוּאָתָֽהּ׃ וּבַשָּׁנָ֣ה הַשְּׁבִיעִ֗ת שַׁבַּ֤ת שַׁבָּתוֹן֙ יִהְיֶ֣ה לָאָ֔רֶץ שַׁבָּ֖ת לַיהֹוָ֑ה שָֽׂדְךָ֙ לֹ֣א תִזְרָ֔ע וְכַרְמְךָ֖ לֹ֥א תִזְמֹֽר׃ Hashem spoke to Moses on Mount Sinai: Speak to the Children of Israel and say to them: When you come into the land that I give to you, the land shall rest a sabbath of Hashem. Six years you may sow your field and six years you may prune your vineyard and gather in the yield. But in the seventh year the land shall have a Sabbath of complete rest, a sabbath of Hashem: you shall not sow your field or prune your vineyard… - Vayikra (Leviticus) 25:1-4; Parshat Behar A disciple asked Rabbi Simha Bunem: “It is written, אֵ֚לֶּה הַדְּבָרִ֔ים אֲשֶׁ֥ר תְּדַבֵּ֖ר אֶל־בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל – These are the words which you shall speak to the Children of Israel. (Ex.19:6) "And Rashi comments, לֹא פָּחוֹת וְלֹא יוֹתֵר אֵ֚לֶּה הַדְּבָרִ֔ים; – ‘These are the words’- no more, and no less. What does he mean by that?” Rabbi Bunam explained: “Moses was overflowing with the teaching and wanted to reveal everything. But, the people wouldn’t have been able to receive it, for a person needs to seek and strive for wisdom; being spoon-fed doesn’t work. Moses has to say just these words to them, no more and no less, so that they might feel: something is hidden here, and we must strive to discover it for ourselves. “That is why, further on, we read: וַיָּ֣שֶׂם לִפְנֵיהֶ֗ם אֵ֚ת כׇּל־הַדְּבָרִ֣ים הָאֵ֔לֶּה And he set before them all these words – meaning, the words that were spoken, no more and no less, as well as the words that were not yet discovered…” Anyone who teaches knows that it is a relational process: the student must want to learn and, to some degree, discover for themselves. Attempting to teach when there is no desire to learn can be a frustratingly futile activity. But, when the student seeks to learn that which they do not yet know, then the learning becomes alive and new; old information is received with fresh insight, as if for the first time. שָֽׂדְךָ֙ לֹ֣א תִזְרָ֔ע וְכַרְמְךָ֖ לֹ֥א תִזְמֹֽר – you shall not sow your field or prune your vineyard… “Planting fields” refers to grain, and from the grain is made the ancient staple, bread. “Pruning vineyards” is a reference to grapes that are made into wine. וּמַלְכִּי־צֶ֙דֶק֙ מֶ֣לֶךְ שָׁלֵ֔ם הוֹצִ֖יא לֶ֣חֶם וָיָ֑יִן וְה֥וּא כֹהֵ֖ן לְאֵ֥ל עֶלְיֽוֹן׃ – And King Melchitzedek of Salem brought out bread and wine; he was a priest of God Most High… - Bereishit (Genesis) 14:18 Wine and bread are not only basic foods, they’re also sacramental foods, forming the ritual part of sacred meals on Shabbat and festivals. The earliest reference to this practice is this passage in which Malkitzedek, the priest-king of Shalem, blesses Avraham and brings him bread and wine. There is a teaching attributed to Rabbi Shlomo Carlbach which points out that wine gets better and better with age; you pay more for wine depending on how old it is. Bread, on the other hand, has to be fresh; no one wants a fifty year-old loaf of bread. Similarly, there is an aspect of the spiritual path that is ancient and an aspect that is fresh and new. For example, Torah, including the whole Jewish tradition, is ancient. There is a special richness in being connected to this ancient lineage; so much so that many are able to tolerate the many passages of Torah that feel disturbing, unethical, and sometimes completely wrong. And yet, that richness doesn’t really come to life unless it is combined with fresh, new insights and interpretations. For the tradition to really live, it also has to be like bread – we need hidushim – new insights, new ways of reading the texts and practicing the tradition. On a deeper level, the very practice of Presence Itself also contains these two aspects. On one hand, there is nothing more ancient than the present moment. There is nothing that has ever existed outside the space of this one, eternal moment; there has never been and can never be an instance of the present moment being absent. That is why one of the names of God is Atik Yomin – the “Ancient of Days.” And when we become fully present to the eternal space of The Present, there is a feeling of transcendence that arises, a knowing of oneself as that space, an intoxication in drinking from the “wine” of Being. At the same time, in becoming present to That which is most ancient, there is also a spontaneous letting go of the past – a dropping away of mental and emotional baggage so that the fullness of this moment appears not as ancient, but as radiant, alive and new – like a freshly baked challah. In this way, that which is most ancient gives rise to that which is most new – in meeting this moment, free from the conditioning of the past, we are greeted by a new potential, never before seen. But if the “field’ and “vineyard” are the eternal and ever-renewing fruits of our practice, what does it mean that we may not harvest them? Is there a time when we should not reap the benefits of the path? וְשָׁבְתָ֣ה הָאָ֔רֶץ שַׁבָּ֖ת – The land shall rest a sabbath… Actually, the “Shabbat” for the “land” is the very essence of the path. There are many factors that must support our practice – we must plan and organize of lives to allow for the daily “tending the Land.” But, when we engage the practice itself, we must let all that go and come fully into the moment… כִּ֤י תָבֹ֙אוּ֙ אֶל־הָאָ֔רֶץ אֲשֶׁ֥ר אֲנִ֖י נֹתֵ֣ן לָכֶ֑ם – When you come into the land that I give to you… This is the true Shabbat Shabbaton – to “come into the land” means to recognize that the appearance of Reality Now is the Gift of Being. It is “given” to us from the Mystery; it is not the result of our intentions or efforts. And while it is true that from the point of view of ordinary life we must attend to the blossoming of this realization with our efforts, to truly live this realization we must fully “come into the land” – we must rest in the field of Being that is not separate from the consciousness we are. This is meditation. And to truly rest in the “Shabbat” of meditation, we must become fully receptive to all that is now arising. This is the Path of Dalet ד – the middah of Receptivity, of resting in the recognizing that everything emerges from the Mystery and returns there, a gift both new and ancient, this holy moment…
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Parshah Summary – P’shat (literal level)
The parshah opens with special laws for the kohanim (priests) and sacrificial offerings, including laws about ritual impurity, marriage, and the animals that may be offered. Included are the laws that a newborn calf, lamb or kid must be left with its mother for seven days before being eligible for an offering, and that one may not slaughter an animal and its offspring on the same day. The second part of Emor lists the festivals: the weekly Shabbat; the bringing of the Passover offering on the 14th of Nissan; the seven-day Passover festival beginning on 15 Nissan; the bringing of the Omer offering from the first barley harvest on the second day of Passover, and the 49-day “Counting of the Omer,” culminating in the festival of Shavuot on the fiftieth day; a “remembrance of shofar blowing” on the 1st of Tishrei (Rosh Hashanah); a solemn fast day on the 10th of Tishrei (Yom Kippur); the festival of Sukkot, beginning on the 15th of Tishrei, which involves the practices of dwelling in huts for seven days and the ritual of waving the “Four Species”; and finally the holiday of the eighth day of Sukkot, called Shmini Atzeret. The parshah then discusses the lighting of the menorah and the lekhem hapanim (the “showbread”), which is placed on a special table each week. Emor concludes with the penalties for murder and for injuring one’s fellow or destroying their property. Torah of Awakening דַּבֵּ֨ר אֶֽל־אַהֲרֹ֜ן וְאֶל־בָּנָ֗יו וְיִנָּֽזְרוּ֙ מִקָּדְשֵׁ֣י בְנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל וְלֹ֥א יְחַלְּל֖וּ אֶת־שֵׁ֣ם קָדְשִׁ֑י אֲשֶׁ֨ר הֵ֧ם מַקְדִּשִׁ֛ים לִ֖י אֲנִ֥י יי Tell Aaron and his sons that they should withdraw from the sacred offerings of the Children of Israel – that which they sanctify to Me – so as not to desecrate My Holy Name – I am Hashem. - Vayikra (Leviticus) 22:2; Parshat Emor Once, when the Baal Shem Tov was about to enter the synagogue, he stopped at the threshold. Those behind him waited patiently, but after some time passed, one of them politely asked him if he was going to go in. “I can’t go in,” replied the Baal Shem, “there is no room for me – the entire space is crowded with teachings and prayers. How can anyone enter when there is no space?” They looked at him dumbfounded. Then he explained: “When prayers and teachings don’t come from the heart, but are merely repeated mechanically, they don’t rise to heaven, but rather they fill up the room from floor to ceiling. That is why there is no room for me to enter!” Anyone who takes care of a pool knows that you have to regularly put more water into it, because the water evaporates over time, especially when it’s hot. That is what happens to awareness as well, especially when we “heat up” with reactive emotion. But even without reactivity, consciousness tends to “sink down” unless we are deliberate in “refilling our pool,” so to speak. That is the whole point of prayer and meditation – to “fill up” with consciousness, so that we can live from the fullness of our inner depths. But sometimes, formal practice is not enough, because if our consciousness has sunk to a low enough level, our practice will be from that low level, and then we will only be mechanically going through the motions. In those cases, we have to somehow wake ourselves up first to even begin. וְיִנָּֽזְרוּ מִקָּדְשֵׁ֣י בְנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל – they should withdraw from the sacred offerings of the Children of Israel… The word for “withdraw” – וְיִנָּֽזְרוּ vayinazru – comes from a root which means to “abstain” or “renounce” on one hand, but also to “sanctify” or “consecrate,” on the other. (An example of this is the Nazir who both renounces wine and also becomes consecrated to the Divine.) The traditional understanding of this verse is that it speaks of priests who have become ritually impure – tamei – and so must excuse themselves from dealing with the offerings that people bring, until they become pure – tahor – again. וְלֹ֥א יְחַלְּל֖וּ אֶת־שֵׁ֣ם קָדְשִׁ֑י – and not desecrate My Holy Name… The word for “desecrate” – יְחַלְּלוּ y’khal’lu – comes from the root which means “to empty.” The “Holy Name” is the Tetragrammaton – the four-letter name which the kabbalists associate with the human body, based on the notion that we are בְּצֶלֶם אֱלֹהִים b’tzelem Elohim – the “image of the Divine.” Thus, to “desecrate the Holy Name” means to “empty” our Presence from our own bodies, and become disconnected from our own inner depths that are available to us through body-Presence… When that happens, when we sink to such a low level of awareness, disconnected from our bodies and the present moment, holy prayers and Divine Names become temporarily useless; the “Name” becomes “empty,” and formal prayer and meditation are not enough to pull ourselves up. There is a remedy discussed in the rabbinic wisdom text Pirkei Avot: רַבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן אוֹמֵר, הֱוֵי זָהִיר בִּקְרִיאַת שְׁמַע וּבַתְּפִלָּה. וּכְשֶׁאַתָּה מִתְפַּלֵּל, אַל תַּעַשׂ תְּפִלָּתְךָ קֶבַע, אֶלָּא רַחֲמִים וְתַחֲנוּנִים לִפְנֵי הַמָּקוֹם Rabbi Shimon said, “Be meticulous in the chanting of the Sh’ma and in prayer. And when you pray, don’t make your prayer rigid and fixed; rather, compassion and supplication before The Place…” - Pirkei Avot 2:13 On one hand, Rabbi Shimon acknowledges the importance of having a regular, formal practice: Be meticulous in the chanting of the Sh’ma and in prayer. On the other hand, if all you have is a formal practice, that won’t work: Don’t make your prayer rigid and fixed; rather, compassion and supplication before The Place. In other words, when we have sunk to a low level of consciousness, we may not be able to elevate ourselves with formal practice alone; we need humility. We need to acknowledge how low we’ve sunk: “Oh Ribono Shel Olam, help me out of this low place!” That’s the compassion and supplication before The Place. It is interesting that the Divine is here called הַמָּקוֹם HaMakom – The Place, hinting that the point is not theology, the point is the sacred quality of space itself, and how we affect those with whom we share space. The point is not what you believe about God, it is about keeping your inner space Godly; it’s about openness and humility. You are the “priest” of your own inner space. Sometimes your space becomes contaminated, so then it is time to become vulnerable and call out from the heart with humility. The person who opens to that humility and vulnerability truly “serves God,” even if they say they are an atheist. On the other hand, the person who complains about what happens, who harbors grudges and anger, who judges others while refusing to take responsibility for their own inner space – that person is the true atheist, even if they profess to “believe.” Beliefs about “God” are not the same as actual God. People have believed in various gods for a long time; we seem to have an innate capacity for bowing to something greater than ourselves. Much, if not all extraordinary human achievements and as well as horrific crimes come from that capacity, whether it’s bowing to the God of the Bible or the cause of science; whether it’s Democracy or Facism. Bowing to something greater is empowering, but it’s not necessarily good. That’s the essence of the Jewish prohibition against idolatry – don’t bow to some parasitic ideology, something that is not good. Rather, the inner message of Judaism is: יי הוּא הָאֱלֺהִים Hashem Hu HaElohim! Meaning: Existence, Being, Reality, That is the true Divinity. In other words, take your innate devotionality and aim it at Reality Itself. Reality always Is what it Is, it always Will Be what it Will Be, gifting us with the power to bring forth what Could Be… אֶֽהְיֶה אֲשֶׁר אֶֽהְיֶה Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh “I Will Be That Which I Will Be” Let us bow to That – let us not resist what is, but rather let us find the peace within our own being that comes from openness and acceptance – that is the Path of Hod, of Humility and Gratitude. And from that Place of openness, let us rise up – let us envision a better reality and offer our actions toward that goal with intention and consistency – that is the Path of Netzakh, of commitment and action…
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Parshah Summary – P’shat (literal level)
The parshah opens in the aftermath of the deaths of Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, and God warns that one must enter the kadosh kadoshim, the innermost chamber of the Sanctuary, in a particular way in order for it to be safe. Only the Kohen Gadol, the High Priest, may enter to offer the sacred ketoret (incense) once per year, on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. Another feature of Yom Kippur is the casting of lots over two goats, to determine which one should be offered to God, and which should be sent off to “Azazel” in order to carry away the sins of the Children of Israel. The parshah then warns against bringing korbanot (animal or meal offerings) anywhere but in the Sanctuary (or later the Temple), forbids the consumption of blood, and details the laws of incest and other types of prohibited sexual relations. Torah of Awakening וַיֹּ֨אמֶר יְהֹוָ֜ה אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֗ה דַּבֵּר֮ אֶל־אַהֲרֹ֣ן אָחִ֒יךָ֒ וְאַל־יָבֹ֤א בְכׇל־עֵת֙ אֶל־הַקֹּ֔דֶשׁ מִבֵּ֖ית לַפָּרֹ֑כֶת אֶל־פְּנֵ֨י הַכַּפֹּ֜רֶת אֲשֶׁ֤ר עַל־הָאָרֹן֙ וְלֹ֣א יָמ֔וּת כִּ֚י בֶּֽעָנָ֔ן אֵרָאֶ֖ה עַל־הַכַּפֹּֽרֶת׃ Hashem said to Moses: Tell your brother Aaron that he is not to come at will into the Shrine behind the curtain, in front of the cover that is upon the ark, lest he die; for I appear in the cloud over the cover… - Vayikra (Leviticus) 16:2; Parshat Akharei Mot There is a story that once Rabbi Yehezkel of Kozmir strolled with his young son in the Zaksi Gardens in Warsaw. His son turned to him with a question: “Abba, whenever we come here, I feel such a peace and holiness, unlike I feel anywhere else. I would expect to find it when I’m studying Torah, but instead I feel it here.” Reb Yehezkel answered: “As you know, it says in the Prophets: מְלֹא כָל הָאָֽרֶץ כְּבוֹדוֹ – the whole world is filled with the Divine Presence. But, sometimes we’re blocked from recognizing it.” “But Abba,” pressed his son, “Why should I feel blocked when I’m learning Torah? And why would I feel it so strongly in this non-religious place?” “Let me tell you a story,” answered the rebbe. “In the days before Reb Simhah Bunem of Pshischah evolved into great tzaddik, he would commute to the city of Danzig and minister to the community there, even though he lived in Lublin. When he returned to Lublin, he would always spend the first Shabbos with his rebbe, the “Seer” – Rabbi Yaakov Yitzhak. “One time when he arrived back at Lublin, he felt disconnected from the holiness he had felt while he was in Danzig. To make matters worse, the Seer wouldn’t give him the usual greeting of Shalom, and in fact behaved rather coldly to Reb Simha. Figuring this was just a mistake, he returned to the Seer some hours later, hoping to get his rebbe’s attention, but again the Seer just ignored him. He left feeling alone and rejected. Then, a certain Talmudic teaching came to his mind: that a person beset with unexpected tribulations should scrutinize their actions. So, he mentally scrutinized every detail of his conduct in Danzig, but he couldn’t recall anything he had done wrong. If anything, he noted with satisfaction that this visit was definitely of the kind that he liked to nickname ‘a good Danzig,’ for he had brought down such holy ecstasy in the prayers he had led there. But then he remembered the rest of the teaching. It goes on to say: פִּשְׁפֵּשׁ וְלֹא מָצָא יִתְלֶה בְּבִטּוּל תּוֹרָה – If he sought and did not find, let him ascribe it to the diminishing (bitul) of Torah.’ (Berakhot 5a:9) Meaning, that his suffering must be caused by having not studied enough. Taking this advice to heart, Reb Simhah decided to start studying right then and there. Opening his Talmud, he sat down and studied earnestly all that day and night. Suddenly, a novel light on the Talmudic teaching dawned on him. He turned the words over in his mind once more, and began to think that perhaps what the sages really meant by their advice was not that he didn’t study enough, but that he wasn’t ‘diminished’ (bitul) by his studying. Rather than humbling himself with Torah, all that book knowledge was simply building up his own ego, and blocking his connection with the Presence. As soon as he realized this, he put down his book, let go of his “scholar,” identity, and began to open to the Presence that is always present. Later that evening, the Seer greeted him warmly: ‘Danzig, as you know, is not such a religious place, yet the Divine Presence is everywhere, as it says: מְלֹא כָל הָאָֽרֶץ כְּבוֹדוֹ The whole world is filled with Its Presence… if you could feel It while you were there, this was no great feat accomplished by your extensive learning; it was because, in your ecstasy, you opened to That which is always already present.’” The heart is imprisoned by the burden of whatever we compulsively “hold.” If we want to “let go” and be free, we have to look at why we “hold on.” There are two main reasons we tend to “hold on” to things. First, there can be holding on to the fear about what might happen. It is true – the future is uncertain, and knowing this can create the feeling of being out of control. Holding onto time – meaning, thinking about the future – can give us a false sense of control. There is often the unconscious belief that if we worry about something enough, we will be able to control it. Of course, that is absurd, but we can unconsciously believe it because of a deeper fear: the fear of experiencing the uncertainty itself. If we really let go of our worry about what might happen, we must confront the experience of really not knowing, of being uncertain. But, if we allow ourselves to experience the uncertainty, our resistance to it will dissipate. The key is: don’t block the feeling of uncertainty with thought – on the other side of uncertainty is liberation – the expansive and simple dwelling with Being in the present. Second, there can be negativity about something from the past; in our resistance to a memory, we keep the memory alive as though it is still happening in the present. If we want to let go of the burden of the past, we must confront the fact that the past is truly over. The deeper level of this is confronting our own mortality. Everything, eventually, will be “over.” But, if we let go of the past, and allow ourselves to feel the insecurity of knowing that everything is passing, then we can see – there is a gift being offered right now. It is precious; it is fragile, like a flower – this precious moment. וְאַל־יָבֹ֤א בְכׇל־עֵת֙ אֶל־הַקֹּ֔דֶשׁ – He shall not come at all times into the Holy (Sanctuary)… We may try to reach holiness by working out the past in our minds, or by insisting on a certain future, but as it says: …he shall not come at all times. In other words, you cannot enter the sacred through time! To enter the sacred, we must leave time behind, and enter it Now. Let your grasping after the future dissipate; let your clinging to the past be released. There is a hint further on in the description of the Yom Kippur rite… גּוֹרָ֤ל אֶחָד֙ לַיהֹוָ֔ה וְגוֹרָ֥ל אֶחָ֖ד לַעֲזָאזֵֽל׃… וְלָקַ֖ח אֶת־שְׁנֵ֣י הַשְּׂעִירִ֑ם– Aaron shall take the two he-goats...one marked for Hashem and the other marked for Azazel… The goat for the Divine means: the future is in the hands of the Divine. This goat is slaughtered and burned. Meaning: we must experience the “burning” of uncertainty and “slaughter” our grasping after control. The word Azazel is composed of two words: עוֹז oz means “strength”, and אָזַל azal means “exhausted, used up.” In other words, the “strength” of the past is “used up” – it is over. Let it go, or it will use you up! This goat is let go to roam free into the wilderness. The past is gone, the future is in the hands of the Divine. But those Divine hands are not separate from your hands. Set your hands free – put down the narratives – and receive the “flower” of this moment, as it is, free from the burden of time. This is the Path of י Yud – Trust and Simplicity. In this week of Shabbat Akharei Mot, the “Sabbath After the Death,” let us practice dropping excess thought and let go of time. May we live in this sacred moment that is always already present…
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Parshah Summary – P’shat (literal level)
The parshah opens with the laws of purification after a woman gives birth, which includes immersing in a mikvah (a naturally gathered pool of water) and bringing offerings. All male infants are to be circumcised on the eighth day of life. It then details the subject of tzara’at (an affliction often mistranslated as leprosy), which can afflict people’s skin as well as garments or homes. If white or pink patches appear on a person’s skin (dark red or green in garments), a kohen is summoned. Judging by various signs, such as an increase in size of the afflicted area after a seven-day quarantine, the kohen pronounces it tamei (ritually unfit) or tahor (ritually fit). A person afflicted with tzaraat must dwell alone outside of the camp (or city) until they are healed, and the afflicted area in a garment or home must be removed. If the tzara’at recurs, the entire garment or home must be destroyed… Torah of Awakening דַּבֵּ֞ר אֶל־בְּנֵ֤י יִשְׂרָאֵל֙ לֵאמֹ֔ר אִשָּׁה֙ כִּ֣י תַזְרִ֔יעַ וְיָלְדָ֖ה זָכָ֑ר וְטָֽמְאָה֙ שִׁבְעַ֣ת יָמִ֔ים כִּימֵ֛י נִדַּ֥ת דְּוֺתָ֖הּ תִּטְמָֽא׃ וּבַיּ֖וֹם הַשְּׁמִינִ֑י יִמּ֖וֹל בְּשַׂ֥ר עׇרְלָתֽוֹ׃ וּשְׁלֹשִׁ֥ים יוֹם֙ וּשְׁלֹ֣שֶׁת יָמִ֔ים תֵּשֵׁ֖ב בִּדְמֵ֣י טׇהֳרָ֑הֿ בְּכׇל־קֹ֣דֶשׁ לֹֽא־תִגָּ֗ע וְאֶל־הַמִּקְדָּשׁ֙ לֹ֣א תָבֹ֔א עַד־מְלֹ֖את יְמֵ֥י טׇהֳרָֽהּ׃ Speak to the Children of Israel, saying: When a woman gives birth to a male, she shall be tamei seven days; like the days of her menstrual separation, she is tamei. On the eighth day, the flesh of his foreskin shall be circumcised. For thirty-three days she shall dwell in the blood of taharah: Any holy thing she shall not touch, and into the holy space she shall not enter until her days of taharah are full… - Vayikra (Leviticus) 2-4; Parshat Tazria There is a story of Rabbi Moshe Leib of Sasov, that despite an ailment which caused him great physical exhaustion, he would arise at midnight on weekdays to recite the lamentations over Jerusalem, and then sneak off to some unknown place. Once, when his disciple Rabbi Hirsch was a guest in his house, he hid so that he might watch Rabbi Moshe and see what he was doing. At midnight he saw him put on peasant’s clothes, go into the snow covered yard, fetch a load of wood out of the cellar, and hoist it on his back. Then, as Rabbi Moshe walked away down the road, Rabbi Hersch followed him in the crackling cold of the winter night to the end of town. There Rabbi Moshe stopped in front of a miserable hut and unloaded the wood. His disciple crept up to a window in the back and peered into a bare room. The stove was out, and lying on the bed was a woman pressing a newborn baby to her breast with an expression of utter despair. At that moment, the Rabbi of Sasov entered the room. He went up to the woman and spoke to her in Ruthenian: “I have a load of wood for sale, and I don’t want to carry it any further. Will you buy it at a bargain price?” The woman answered, “I don’t have a penny in the house.” But the rabbi didn’t give up: “I’ll come back for the money some other time, if you will just take the wood.” The woman objected: “What shall I do with the wood? I can’t chop it myself, and I don’t have an axe anyway.” The Rabbi of Sasov replied, “You just let me take care of that,” and he went outside and chopped the wood into small pieces. While he was chopping, Rabbi Hirsch heard him chanting the Lamentations at Midnight associated with our foremothers Rachel and Leah. Then he brought the wood back into the house, made her a warm fire, and returned home, walking very quickly. The Tanya, the hasidic text of Chabad Lubavitch hasidism, talks about two different kinds of love: the first springs from knowing the Divine as the deepest level of your own being. Since people naturally love their own lives, the experience of God as your own essential nature means loving God just as you love your own life. The second kind of love happens when you think of God as your parent. The Tanya talks about the example of certain children who love their parents so much, they are willing to sacrifice their lives for them. The first type of love is non-dual; God is not something separate from my own being. The second type is dualistic; God is separate from me, even possibly negating me, if I sacrifice my life. Which one is higher? On one hand, the non-dual way could be seen as higher, because it is an awakening to the deepest level of who we are. However, the Tanya takes another approach: when we see the Divine as our own essential being, there is a pleasure, a spiritual bliss that arises from transcending the separate sense of self. But if we see God as something separate, and we are willing to give up our very life for God, that is even more self-transcending, and is therefore the higher love. But in truth, these two ways are not really different at all; they are two sides of one coin. When we recognize that our own being is not separate from Being Itself and we shift identification from our separate self-sense to the Oneness of Reality, then there is the possibility of transcending our natural fear of death; Reality cannot die, only our particular form dies. Self-transcendence is not merely a feeling of bliss; bliss is simply a reflection of transcendence on the feeling level – a “bonus” in a sense, not the essential thing. Nevertheless, in the actual flow of life, there are times we need to drink from the nectar of bliss to replenish ourselves, and there are times in which we must put aside our own needs for the sake of others. The Tanya’s example of sacrificing one’s life for a parent may not be so common; more common perhaps is the parent being willing to sacrifice their life for their child. Parenthood, and new motherhood in particular, is not necessarily good for you. Even if your situation is not as bad as the woman in the story, it can still it can be a fire of suffering – the lack of sleep, the constant neediness of the baby. But, it is a suffering of love. בְּכׇל־קֹ֣דֶשׁ לֹֽא־תִגָּ֗ע וְאֶל־הַמִּקְדָּשׁ֙ לֹ֣א תָבֹ֔א – Any holy thing she shall not touch, and into the holy space she shall not enter… The word for “holy,” קֹדֶשׁ kodesh, means “separate” – not in the sense of being distant or removed, but rather central and exclusive. For example, where is the holiest place? It is the very center of the Mikdash, the Kadosh Kadoshim – the “Holy of Holies.” Similarly, the intimacy of marriage is also a “Holy of Holies.” It is holy in its unique togetherness, holy because of its intimacy. So קֹדֶשׁ kodesh doesn’t exactly mean separation, but really means “separation from all separation!” It means “separateness” only in that it is the most close. כִּימֵ֛י נִדַּ֥ת דְּוֺתָ֖הּ תִּטְמָֽא – like the days of her menstrual separation, she is tamei… The menstrual period is considered a time of נִדָה nidah, which also means “separation.” During this time there is traditionally no sexual intimacy – no קֹדֶשׁ kodesh – no “separation-from-all-separation.” In this sense, the “separation” of נִדָה Nidah really means “separation-from-the-separation-from all-separation.” These two states, קֹדֶשׁ kodesh and נִדָה nidah, really parallel the two kinds of love – love of the Divine as your own self (kodesh) and love of the Divine as your own parent – or, as we more commonly experience, as your own child (nidah). Seen in this way, the opening of the parshah is a description of these two kinds of love and service: The new mother is in a state of נִדָה nidah because she is not concerned with the experience of Divinity in her own being; she is completely at the service of the newborn. This is itself a swing of the pendulum because she just gave birth – and what could be more Godly than giving birth? Her own body just created another living being. She is a Goddess – a Creator. And now she swings from Goddess to servant, burning in the painful love of motherhood. But this does not – and cannot – go on forever. She is in a נִדָה nidah-like state only for a short time. Then she returns to connection with the קֹדֶשׁ kodesh. She must do that, because to be only in the selfless service of another would be self-destructive, and therefore destructive to the baby as well. In one way or another, life brings us between these two poles – sometimes being an Eved Hashem – a servant of God, humbly giving of ourselves, not “getting” anything out of it. Other times, we are B’tzelem Elohim, manifestations of the Divine, enjoying the renewal and bliss of the Divine energy that is our essence. Knowing how to balance these two poles is essential – we must be awake in the moment to know when it is time to let go of our needs and be of service, and when we must say “no” to the needs of others and take care of ourselves. This is the Path of Tiferet – of balance, harmony, appropriateness, wisdom-in-action. In this time of Sefirat HaOmer, may we become more conscious of our task to balance the opposing forces of the Tree, knowing when to step up as a servant of God, and knowing when to repose and simply Be God, as we walk the Tree of Life, watering the seeds of revelation embodied by Shavuot…
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Parshah Summary – P’shat (literal level)
The parshah opens with the eighth day (yom hashmini) of the inauguration ceremony for Aaron and his sons to begin officiating as the kohanim (priests). In a dramatic appearance of Divine power, a fire streams forth to consume the offerings on the altar, and the Shekhinah, the Divine Presence, comes to dwell in the Sanctuary. In their enthusiasm, Aaron’s two elder sons, Nadav and Avihu, rush forward to offer aysh zarah – “strange fire.” They are consumed by the fire and perish, yet Aaron remains silent in face of his tragedy. Moses and Aaron subsequently disagree as to a point of law regarding the offerings, but Moses ultimately concedes that Aaron is in the right. The laws of kashrut are given, identifying the animal species permissible and forbidden for consumption. Land animals may be eaten only if they have split hooves and also chew their cud; fish must have fins and scales; a list of non-kosher birds is given, and a list of the kosher insects, which include four different types of locusts…
Torah of Awakening
הַיּ֔וֹם יְהֹוָ֖ה נִרְאָ֥ה אֲלֵיכֶֽם׃ וַתֵּ֥צֵא אֵ֛שׁ מִלִּפְנֵ֥י יְהֹוָ֖ה וַתֹּ֣אכַל אוֹתָ֑ם וַיָּמֻ֖תוּ לִפְנֵ֥י יְהֹוָֽה׃ וַיֹּ֨אמֶר מֹשֶׁ֜ה אֶֽל־אַהֲרֹ֗ן הוּא֩ אֲשֶׁר־דִּבֶּ֨ר יְהֹוָ֤ה לֵאמֹר֙ בִּקְרֹבַ֣י אֶקָּדֵ֔שׁ וְעַל־פְּנֵ֥י כׇל־הָעָ֖ם אֶכָּבֵ֑ד וַיִּדֹּ֖ם אַהֲרֹֽן׃ “Today the Divine will appear to you!” And fire came forth from Hashem and consumed them; thus they died before Hashem. Then Moses said to Aaron, “It is as Hashem spoke, saying: ‘Through those near to Me I am sanctified, And before all the people I am glorified.’” And Aaron was silent… - Vayikra (Leviticus) 9:4, 10:2-3 Parshat Shmini There is a story of the Hasidic master Reb Menachem Mendel of Kotsk, the Kotsker Rebbe. One day, the son-in-law of Reb Shlomo of Radomsk was visiting him. The Kotsker asked his guest to please tell some Torah from his saintly father-in-law Reb Shlomo, to which he replied with this teaching: “When Aaron lost his two sons, the Torah records his praise, saying: וַיִּדֹּ֖ם אַהֲרֹֽן Aharon was silent, because he was able to accept the intense pain of his misfortune with equanimity. But King David surpassed him and reached an even higher level, as he says in Psalm 30: לְמַֽעַן יְזַמֶּרְךָ כָבוֹד וְלֹא יִדֹּם so that I may sing of Your glory and NOT be silent – for even in times of great distress he would still praise the Divine.” This extreme teaching points to a universal truth – it is not primarily our circumstances and happenings that define our experience, but our minds. It also hints at the two basic practices for learning to use our minds: וַיִּדֹּ֖ם אַהֲרֹֽן – Aaron was silent… The silence of Aaron hints at meditation. Through meditation, we can learn to embrace whatever pain arises without resistance and free our minds from excess thought. As the mind becomes more still and spacious, we become free from conditioned, time-bound experience, coming to dwell more and more in the spaciousness of the Timeless Present. לְמַֽעַן יְזַמֶּרְךָ כָבוֹד וְלֹא יִדֹּם – so that I may sing of Your glory and not be silent… The singing of David hints at prayer. In prayer, that sacred dimension revealed in meditation helps to build our inner world of experience as a conscious expression of the sacred, rather than an unconscious expression of our conditioning. These two basic practices – meditation and prayer – first strip away our unconscious and unintentional conditioning so that the sacred might be revealed; and second, they draw forth the nourishment of the sacred into expression, rebuilding our inner world in Its Image. וַיְהִי֙ בַּיּ֣וֹם הַשְּׁמִינִ֔י קָרָ֣א מֹשֶׁ֔ה לְאַהֲרֹ֖ן וּלְבָנָ֑יו וּלְזִקְנֵ֖י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃ – On the eighth day, Moses called to Aaron and his sons, and to the elders of Israel… The number eight symbolizes infinity, both in its Arabic shape and in its Hebrew meaning as the number that transcends seven, which is the number of finite creation. One of the names of God in Kabbalah is Ayn Sof, which also means infinity – literally, “there is no limit.” Thus, the Infinite appears to the Israelites בַּיּ֣וֹם הַשְּׁמִינ֔י – on the “Day of Infinity.” And when is this “Day of Infinity” as it applies to each of us? הַיּ֔וֹם יְהֹוָ֖ה נִרְאָ֥ה אֲלֵיכֶֽם׃ – Today the Divine will appear to you! Today, of course, means Now. In the subsiding of thought, there is the subsiding of time. In the subsiding of time, there is the blossoming of the only Reality there is – the Reality of this moment, this One and Only moment. This moment is not static or fixed. Ever changing, it is Ayn Sof, without limit, inseparable from past and future, yet also unbound by past and future; when we get free from the burden of time created by thought, we tap into the infinite potential of the Ayn Sof. יי נִרְאָ֥ה – The Divine will appear… The word נִרְאָ֥ה nirah, “appear,” is related to יִראָה yirah, “awe.” The Divine Name יְ–הֹ–וָ–ה Yod-Hei-Vav-Hei is related to the verb “to be,” לִהיוֹת lihyot. In other words, the “appearance of the Divine” is simply a way of describing a relationship with Existence based on awe and wonder, which are inherent qualities of consciousness when it is free from the burden of excessive thought. We can awaken awe through meditation and express it through prayer. Or, we can work in the opposite direction, awakening awe and wonder by reminding ourselves that Reality is inherently unknowable, a Mystery that transcends all understanding. This is the Path of ר Reish, which means both “head” and “beginning,” hinting that our “heads” have the power to transcend the limitations of thought, so that we may know this moment as a New Beginning, pregnant with the potential of the Ayn Sof. This is also the spirit of Pesakh, during which the practice of refraining from hameitz (leavened foods) ritually connects us to that radiant spaciousness of the Unconditioned, prior to the “rising dough” of thought. In this time of the Festival of Liberation, may we awaken once again to the bright and radiant simplicity of Being, going out of narrowness and into the spacious wilderness of the Present…
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וְכַאֲשֶׁר֙ יְעַנּ֣וּ אֹת֔וֹ כֵּ֥ן יִרְבֶּ֖ה וְכֵ֣ן יִפְרֹ֑ץ וַיָּקֻ֕צוּ מִפְּנֵ֖י בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃
וַיַּעֲבִ֧דוּ מִצְרַ֛יִם אֶת־בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל בְּפָֽרֶךְ׃ The more they oppressed them, the more they increased and spread out, and they came to dread the Children of Israel. So, Egypt enslaved the Children of Israel with crushing servitude… -Shemot (Exodus) 1:13 Parshat Shemot One Passover, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev led the seder so perfectly, that every word and every ritual glowed with all the holiness of its mystical significance. In the dawn, after the celebration, Levi Yitzhak sat in his room, joyful and proud that he had performed such an perfect seder. But all of a sudden, a Voice from above spoke to him: “More pleasing to Me than your seder is that of Hayim the water-carrier.” “Hayim the water-carrier?” wondered Levi Yitzhak, “Who’s that?” He summoned all of his disciples together, and asked if anyone had heard of Hayim the water-carrier. Nobody had. So, at the tzaddik’s bidding, some of the disciples set off in search of him. They asked around for many hours before they were led to a poor neighborhood outside the city. There, they were shown a little house that was falling apart. They knocked on the door. A woman came out and asked what they wanted. When they told her, she was amazed. “Yes,” she said, “Hayim the water carrier is my husband, but he can’t go with you, because he drank a lot yesterday and he’s sleeping it off now. If you wake him, you’ll see he won’t even be able to move.” “It’s the rabbi’s orders!” answered the disciples. They barged in and shook him from his sleep. He only blinked at them and couldn’t understand what they wanted. Then he rolled over and tried to go on sleeping. So they grabbed him, dragged him from his bed, and carried him on their shoulders to the tzaddik’s house. There they sat him down, bewildered, before Levi Yitzhak. The rabbi leaned toward him and said, “Reb Hayim, dear heart, what kavanah, what intention was in your mind when you gathered the hameitz – the leavened foods – to burn in preparation for the seder?” The water carrier looked at him dully, shook his head and replied, “Master, I just looked into every corner and gathered it together.” The astonished tzaddik continued questioning him: “And what yihudim – what holy intentions of unification did you contemplate when you burned it?” The man pondered, looked distressed, and said hesitatingly, “Master, I forgot to burn it, and now I remember – it’s all still lying on the shelf.” When Rabbi Levi Yitzhak heard this, he grew more and more uncertain, but he continued asking: “And tell me Reb Hayim, what intention did you have when you celebrated the seder?” Then something seemed to quicken in his eyes and limbs, and he replied enthusiastically. “Rabbi, I shall tell you the truth. You see, I had always heard that it’s forbidden to drink brandy on all eight days of the festival, and so yesterday morning I drank enough to last me eight days. Then I got tired and fell asleep. When my wife woke me in the evening, she said, ‘Why don’t you celebrate the seder like all the other Jews?’ I said, ‘What do you want from me? I’m an ignorant man and my father was an ignorant man. I don’t know how to read, and I don’t know what to do, or what not to do.’ My wife answered, ‘You must know some little song or something!’ I thought for a moment, and then a melody came to me that I had heard as a child. I began to sing:‘Mah nishtana halaila hazeh mikol haleilot – Why is this night different from all other nights?’ As I sang I began to think, ‘why is this night different?’ “Then, something strange happened. It was as if I awoke from a dream, and everything was suddenly more real, more alive. It was as if the night itself woke up all around me. I began to feel as if I were flying high above my life, and all of my troubles, all of my problems, were just ripples in an ocean far below me; but at the same time, I felt more connected to everything, to my wife and to our humble lives together – and then I realized – everything is part of Hashem! Everything is One! Then I got tired and fell asleep.” Rabbi Levi Yitzhak smiled and understood. וַיַּעֲבִ֧דוּ מִצְרַ֛יִם אֶת־בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל בְּפָֽרֶךְ׃ – Egypt enslaved the Children of Israel with crushing servitude… Within this verse are three hints about the nature of spiritual bondage. The first hint is in the word פָֽרֶךְ farekh – “crushing labor.” The root פרך means “to break apart” or “fracture.” The hint here is that spiritual bondage is unpleasant – it involves suffering. But on a deeper level, it hints that there is some kind of breaking or fracturing happening, and that is the fracturing of Reality Itself as it appears in your consciousness. Consider – in this moment, our consciousness is meeting whatever is appearing right now – our sensations, our feelings, our perception of what is around us, whatever thoughts are arising, and so on. As long as consciousness simply meets whatever is present, there is a Wholeness to Everything. But when something unpleasant arises, whether external or internal – it doesn’t matter, because all experience arises within the one space of consciousness – there is a tendency for consciousness to contract into resistance. That is the פָֽרֶךְ farekh – the tearing apart of Reality, because now there is me “over here,” resisting that “over there” (even if the “over there” is in my own mind). This move from Wholeness to an opposing position implies a kind of contraction, because now rather than simply being the space of awareness within which experience happens, we become finite entities, resisting something within our experience. וַיַּעֲבִ֧דוּ מִצְרַ֛יִם – Egypt enslaved… This brings us to the second hint in this verse, the word מִצְרַ֛יִם Mitzrayim – “Egypt,” – from the root tzar which means “narrow,” probably because Egypt was built along the Nile. But metaphorically, it hints that to be in Mitzrayim is to be in a narrow state; the native and full spaciousness of our consciousness gets contracted into a fixed point of view – the narrow “me” called “ego.” And what is the basic activity of ego? Ego tries to control things, because it feels incomplete. That’s the basic hallmark of ego – that feeling of incompleteness, and with it, the need to change things in order to be “okay.” That feeling comes from the contraction into a mitzrayim state that happens spontaneously in reaction to farekh – suffering that breaks apart the Wholeness of our experience… וַיַּעֲבִ֧דוּ מִצְרַ֛יִם – Egypt enslaved… And this brings us to the third hint in the verse, יַּעֲבִ֧דוּ ya’avidu – “enslaved.” The arising of suffering, represented by farekh, which causes the contraction into ego, represented by Mitzrayim, is obviously not something we consciously choose; it seems to just “happen” – that contraction seems to “grab” and “enslave” us against our will. And yet, on a deeper level, יַּעֲבִ֧דוּ ya’avidu is related to the word עֲבוֹדָה avodah, which means “work” or “service” not in the negative sense of slavery, but in the positive sense of prayer, or spiritual practice – which is an act of Presence and devotion. The hint here is that the experience of suffering, and the spiritual bondage that comes from it, has a purpose – and that is to be transformed into עֲבוֹדָה avodah, into a path of liberation. Because it is only from getting caught in spiritual bondage, and then finding our way out of bondage, that we can really mature and evolve. A baby in the womb is already whole and one with all being, but it is not liberated, because there is no appreciation of the Wholeness. In order to know liberation, we have to first taste bondage. The danger, of course, is that the experience of bondage, however that manifests, seduces us into a negative attitude and we become resigned to our stuck-ness; that is why we need to remember: לְמַ֣עַן תִּזְכֹּ֗ר אֶת־י֤וֹם צֵֽאתְךָ֙ מֵאֶ֣רֶץ מִצְרַ֔יִם כֹּ֖ל יְמֵ֥י חַיֶּֽיךָ׃ – So that you remember your going out from Egypt all the days of your life… Deut. 16:3 This verse, which also appears near the beginning of the seder, urges us to constantly remember that our basic nature is freedom, reminding ourselves every day, and even every night as the words of the seder say: יְמֵי חַיֶּיךָ הַיָּמִים. כֹּל יְמֵי חַיֶּיךָ הַלֵּילוֹת – “The days of your life” means the daytime; “all the days of your life” means the nights also. And what is the daytime and nighttime practice for remembering our essential nature? שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל יי אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ יי אֶחָד – Listen, Israel, Hashem is our God, Hashem is One… יי אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ – The Divine is our God… Meaning: Being, or Existence, is not separate from Eloheinu – from our own inner Divinity – that is, from our awareness. In fact, our awareness is not really “ours” at all, but it is rather God’s awareness, waking up as us, within our body/mind… יי אֶחָד – Existence, or Reality, is One. Again and again we may get pulled into farekh – that involuntary suffering in which we contract into the egoic mitzrayim state, but if we sing out to the Ekhad – to the Oneness of Being – we can find our way beyond our problems and troubles (which exist primarily in our thoughts and feelings) and into the transcendent spaciousness of the present moment. And here, within the transcendence of this moment, may we recognize the true answer to the question – “Mah nishtana halaila hazeh – Why is this night different from all other nights?” Because THIS “night,” really, this moment, is the only real moment! And this is the true Exodus – going out from the mitzrayim, the “virtual reality” of our minds – into actual Reality, the freedom and spaciousness of the present…
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