Parshah Summary – P’sha
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 as 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 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 | Jewish Meditation Teaching
וַיֹּ֤אמֶר יְי אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה אֱמֹ֥ר אֶל־הַכֹּהֲנִ֖ים בְּנֵ֣י אַהֲרֹ֑ן וְאָמַרְתָּ֣ אֲלֵהֶ֔ם לְנֶ֥פֶשׁ לֹֽא־יִטַּמָּ֖א בְּעַמָּֽיו׃ כִּ֚י אִם־לִשְׁאֵר֔וֹ הַקָּרֹ֖ב אֵלָ֑יו... Hashem said to Moses, ‘Speak to the priests, the sons of Aaron, and tell them that they should not defile themselves for a (dead) person among their people, except for close relatives…’ - Vayikra (Leviticus) 21:1-2; Parshat Emor
There is a story that Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev was visiting Rabbi Shmelke of Nikolsburg. They had both been students of the great Maggid of Mezritch, but Rabbi Shmelke was older, and Levi Yitzhak considered him to be his teacher as well. On the first morning, Levi Yitzhak came down from the guest room with his tefillin and tallis on, ready to go to shul to daven, when he stopped in the kitchen and began conversing with the cooks. (Rabbi Shmelke was apparently quite well off and had his own cooks.) He asked them what they were making, and questioned them about their methods as if he were concerned that the food wouldn’t be good enough. When some disciples stopped by on their way to shul and overheard all this, they frowned in disapproval.
At the synagogue, Levi Yitzhak didn’t pray, but spent all his time talking loudly in the back of the sanctuary to a man who was considered to be annoying and unlearned. Eventually, one of the hasidim couldn’t take it anymore. “You mustn’t have conversation in here!” But, Levi Yitzhak simply went on talking loudly and disturbing everyone. Later, when all the hasidim gathered for lunch, Rabbi Shmelke treated Levi Yitzhak with the utmost honor, giving him food to eat from his own bowl. Later, the hasidim asked their rebbe about this strange man who talked so obnoxiously about such mundane things. Why did the rebbe honor him so? Rabbi Shmelke replied, “In the Talmud, the rabbi known as Rab (Abba Areka) is praised for never engaging in worldly speech. How could it be that this is what he was praised for? Does this mean that the other rabbis did engage in worldly speech? Rather, it means that when he engaged in worldly speech, he did so with such kavanah that Divine blessings flowed into this world with every word. Other rabbis could accomplish this for a short time, but eventually their worldly speech would drag them down. It is the same with Levi Yitzhak and myself. What I can do for a short time, he can do all day long; with his seemingly mundane conversations, he is bringing heaven down to earth.” Generally speaking, it is better not to blabber on loudly in synagogue; that is obviously the right and good way to behave. But, we also need to know how to leave the normative box of the obvious good in order to access the hidden good. לְנֶ֥פֶשׁ לֹֽא־יִטַּמָּ֖א בְּעַמָּֽיו׃ – they should not defile (yitama) themselves for a (dead) person among their people. On one hand, it is beneficial to be know what makes us tamei, that is, spiritually “dead” inside, and avoid those things. Is it too much news or social media? Is it dealing with particularly difficult people? Is it your job, or certain kinds of entertainment, or some addictive substance? To be on the spiritual path means we have to take responsibility for what experiences we take in, just as those on a path of physical health must take responsibility for what food they take in. This is לֹֽא־יִטַּמָּ֖א lo yitama – don’t pollute yourself with dangerous experiences… כִּ֚י אִם־לִשְׁאֵר֔וֹ הַקָּרֹ֖ב אֵלָ֑יו... – except for close relatives… At the same time, we also need to sometimes do the opposite, because if we try to avoid it completely, we can never grow spiritually in our ability to be at peace in the midst of disturbance. Furthermore, on a deeper level, the avoidance itself can become a kind of defilement. Guarding ourselves from disturbances is necessary, but it can also become a neurotic attempt to control our experience; life happens and we must meet it, not avoid it. הַקָּרֹ֖ב אֵלָ֑יו... – those close to him… In general, we should do what we can to live in a spiritually conducive environment. But when disturbance comes along, we need to know how to be קָּרֹ֖ב karov – how to come close, meaning be present – with whatever has arisen. In the state of Presence, the disturbance is felt to come and then go; we deal with whatever we need to deal with and then let go of it. In this way, we strengthen our connection with that which remains through all of it: the inner spaciousness of consciousness in which all experience arises. לֹֽא־יִטַּמָּ֖א – they should not defile (yitama) themselves… The word for “defilement” or “spiritual impurity” is טוּמאָה tumah, and one who is “impure” is טָמֵא tamei. These words begin with the letter ט tet, which also begins the word טוֹב tov, “good.” The letter ט tet is shaped in such a way that it points into itself – thus symbolizing the “goodness” that is hidden within. How do we access this hidden goodness? We do it by becoming קָּרֹ֖ב karov, bringing our awareness into close connection with whatever messiness we are dealing with. And so this is our paradoxical task: to guard ourselves against things that drag us down spiritually, but also to sometimes transform those things into vehicles for the spirit. How do you know when to take which approach? The key is Presence; life itself conveys to us which path to take if we are listening.
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Parshah Summary – P’sha
Parshat Kedoshim consists of the many mitzvot (commandments) through which the Torah envisions a sanctified life, including the prohibition against idolatry, the mitzvah of charity, the principle of equality before the law, Shabbat, sexual boundaries, honesty in business, honor of one’s parents, and the sacredness of life in general. Among these mitzvot is the famous principle which the great sage Rabbi Akiva called the essence of Torah, and of which Hillel said, “This is the entire Torah, the rest is commentary:
וְאָֽהַבְתָּ֥ לְרֵעֲךָ֖ כָּמ֑וֹךָ – and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
וַיְדַבֵּ֥ר יְהֹ–וָ֖ה אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֥ה לֵּאמֹֽר׃ דַּבֵּ֞ר אֶל־כׇּל־עֲדַ֧ת בְּנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֛ל וְאָמַרְתָּ֥ אֲלֵהֶ֖ם קְדֹשִׁ֣ים תִּהְי֑וּ כִּ֣י קָד֔וֹשׁ אֲנִ֖י יְהֹ–וָ֥ה אֱלֹהֵיכֶֽם׃ Hashem spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the whole community of the Children of Israel and say to them: Holy ones you shall be, for I, Hashem your God, am holy. - Vayikra (Leviticus) 19:1, 2; Parshat Kedoshim
A disciple of Rabbi Dov Baer, the Maggid of Mezritch, started home after studying with the Maggid for many years. On his way he stopped in Karlin to see his old friend Rabbi Aaron, who had once been his learning companion in the Maggid’s Beit Midrash (House of Study). It was already midnight by the time he arrived in the city, but he was so excited to see his old friend, he made his way to Rabbi Aaron’s house right away. When he arrived, he could see some light coming from the window, so he looked in and saw his old friend learning from books at the table by candlelight. Excited to see him, he knocked on the window enthusiastically. Rabbi Aaron looked up from his books: “Who is there?”
“It is I!” exclaimed the disciple. Rabbi Aaron looked back down at his books and continued studying. The student waited a bit, then knocked again, and again, but no reply. “Aaron, why don’t you open the door for me?” Rabbi Aaron looked up and spoke with grave seriousness: “Who is it that dares to call himself “I” as befits only God?” When the disciple heard this, he realized that he had not learned nearly enough, so he immediately turned around and headed back toward Mezritch. Through all our life experiences, we tend to take for granted the one common element at the root of them all – the “I” that is having the experiences. What is this “I” that we feel we are? הוּא הָיָה אוֹמֵר, אִם אֵין אֲנִי לִי, מִי לִי. וּכְשֶׁאֲנִי לְעַצְמִי, מָה אֲנִי. וְאִם לֹא עַכְשָׁיו, אֵימָתָי: He used to say, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? And if I am for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?” - Pirkei Avot 1:14 This little aphorism of the famous sage Hillel, which is often (mis) understood only on an ethical level, actually contains a formula for discovering our deepest identity: אִם אֵין אֲנִי לִי, מִי לִי – If I am not for myself, who will be for me? It is up to us to realize who we really are; no one can do it for us. We can do this by noticing that there is, in a sense, two of “me” – the “me” that is made out of my body and mind and feelings, and the “I” that perceives all of that. Which “me” am I? “I” am not the “self” that “I” perceive – the body, the thoughts, the feelings – rather, “I” am the awareness that perceives those elements. וְאִם לֹא עַכְשָׁיו, אֵימָתָי – And if not Now, when? There is a way we can know this for ourselves, and that is to be attentive to whatever is present in experience; this meditation. The point is not the content of experience, but rather the act of being aware. Through the intentional act of awareness, we can come to know ourselves as that awareness, as that Presence. This deepest level of our identity, infusing yet also separate from our thoughts, feelings, senses, and all that normally is taken to be “me,” is also the root of what we might call the “sacred” or “holy” – קָד֔וֹשׁ kadosh. What is this קָד֔וֹשׁ kadosh, this quality of “holiness?” קְדֹשִׁ֣ים תִּהְי֑וּ כִּ֣י קָד֔וֹשׁ אֲנִ֖י יְה–וָ֥ה אֱלֹהֵיכֶֽם – Holy ones you shall be, for I, Hashem your God, am holy. The passage instructs the Children of Israel to be holy without explaining what it means, giving as the reason that God is holy. Why does one follow from the other? Why should we be holy just because God is holy, and what does it mean? The word קָד֔וֹשׁ kadosh means “set apart” or “separate,” but not in the ordinary sense. Normally, the word “separate” connotes distance, disconnectedness, or alienation, such as when a relationship between two people goes sour and connection is lost. But קָד֔וֹשׁ kadosh actually means the opposite; in a Jewish wedding ceremony, for example, we hear these words spoken between the beloveds: הֲרֵי אַתְּ מְקֻדֶּֽשֶׁת לִי Harei at mekudeshet li – Behold, you are holy to me… Meaning, your beloved becomes קָד֔וֹשׁ kadosh not because they are separate from you, but because they are exclusive to you. They are your most intimate, and therefore separate from all other relationships. In this way, the separateness of קָד֔וֹשׁ kadosh points not to something that is distant, but to something that’s most central. It points not to alienation, but to the deepest connection. And just as one’s spouse is separate from all other relationships, so too when we become present, this moment becomes separate from all other moments; we are able to get some distance from the world of time – from our memories about the past and our anticipations of the future. This allows us to truly experience ourselves – not as a bundle of thoughts and feelings inhabiting a body, but as the open, radiant space of awareness within which our thoughts and feelings come and go. This is why our awareness is, by its nature, קָד֔וֹשׁ kadosh – separate from the world of thought and feeling within which we can tend to become trapped, yet fully and intimately connected with everything that arises in this moment. קְדֹשִׁ֣ים תִּהְי֑וּ – You shall be holy… In other words, access the sacred dimension of your being by becoming present – by separating your mind from the entanglements of thought and time. How is this possible? כִּ֣י קָד֔וֹשׁ אֲנִ֖י יְה–וָ֥ה אֱלֹהֵיכֶֽם – for I, Hashem your God, am holy… In other words, it is because Existence Itself – which is the meaning of יְה–וָ֥ה Hashem, the Divine Name –- is already אֱלֹהֵיכֶֽם Eloheikhem, your own inner Divinity. Your deepest “I” is not your “I” at all, but is rather the “I” of the Divine; it is the “I” of Reality Itself, knowing Itself through you. And so it is not only that we can awaken to our deepest identity and recognize that we are not the ordinary “me” we thought we were, but rather, God can wake up to Itself; we play our part in Existence awakening to Itself; that is the deepest potential of קְדֹשִׁ֣ים תִּהְי֑וּ kedoshim tih’yu – not merely that we should “be holy,” but that we awaken to the holy, through being.
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Parshah Summary – P’sha
The parshah opens in the aftermath of the deaths of Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, and God warns that one must only enter 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 a 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 | Jewish Meditation Teaching
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 any time into the Holy behind the curtain, in front of the cover that is upon the ark, so that he not die; for I appear in the cloud over the cover… - Vayikra (Leviticus) 16:2; Parshat Akharei Mot
There is a story of Rabbi David Lelov, that before he became a great rebbe himself, he was a mystic who wished to experience the Divine through fasting and other harsh practices. After six years of asceticism, he still had no more perception of the Presence then he had before he began, so he went on another six years. Still nothing! So, he went to see Rabbi Elimelekh of Lizhenzk, whom he heard might be able to help him.
When he arrived on Friday afternoon just before Shabbat, he went to the House of Prayer with the other hasidim to see the rebbe. Rabbi Elimelekh greeted everyone warmly one by one, but when he came to David, he immediately turned away and ignored him. Shocked and feeling as if he had been stabbed in the heart, David retreated back to his room at the inn. There he sat on his bed in silent disbelief about what had happened. But after some time, he began to think that the rebbe must have not noticed him. Of course, it had to be an accident! How is it even possible that a rebbe could behave that way? So, he decided to go back. When he arrived, they were just finishing the evening prayers. David made his way up to the rebbe and extended his hand in greeting. Again, the rebbe simply turned away and ignored him. His worse fear confirmed and feeling dejected, David went back to his room again and cried bitterly all night. In the morning he resolved not to visit the rebbe nor pray with the community, but to leave as soon as Shabbos was over. Hours of agony and boredom went by. Eventually it was time for Shalosh Seudes, the Third Sabbath Meal toward the end of the day as the sunlight waned. He knew this was the time when Rabbi Elimelekh would be teaching, and he suddenly felt a pull to go visit him one last time, even though he had resolved not to go back. Before he knew it, he was making his way to the House of Prayer a third time. When he arrived, he stationed himself outside a window, hoping to hear a few words of Torah without having to go inside. Then he heard the rebbe say: “Sometimes a person wishes to experience the Divine Presence, and so they fast and torture themselves for six years, and even another six years! Then they come to me to draw down the Light for which they think they have prepared themselves. But the truth is, all that fasting is like a minute drop in an ocean, and furthermore it doesn’t rise up to the Divine at all, but instead only rises only to the idol of their own egos. Such a person must give up on all of that nonsense, and instead go to the very bottom of their own being, and begin again from there.” When David heard these words, he almost fainted. Gasping, he made his way to the door and stood motionless at the threshold. Immediately the rebbe rose from his chair and exclaimed, “Barukh Haba! Blessed is he who comes!” The rebbe rushed over to David, embraced him, and then invited him to come sit in the chair next to his at the table. The rebbe’s son Eleazar was confused by his father’s conduct, and took him aside. “Abba, why are you being so friendly? You couldn’t stand the sight of this guy yesterday!” Rabbi Elimelekh replied, “Oh no, you are mistaken my son – this isn’t the same person at all! Can’t you see? This is sweet Rabbi David!” Rabbi David Lelov needed Rabbi Elimelekh’s fierce grace; he needed to have his ego “slaughtered” by the rebbe. Through all those years of fasting he had tried to purify himself, but it turned out that his asceticism was like the ego trying to commit suicide – it doesn’t work. Such a path is only more ego, only a spiritualized ego. The only way out for Rabbi David was to have that spiritual ego smashed. When we need to have our egos smashed, life is usually easy to oblige; this world is full of opportunities for that. And while we certainly don’t wish such a path on anyone, it is useful for each of us to remember in the midst of our difficulties. But there is a second path – one not of smashing ego, but of exposing it to the light of awareness, and letting it vanish on its own – this is the fruit of meditation. Painful insults are not the only way. רַבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן אוֹמֵר, הֱוֵי זָהִיר בִּקְרִיאַת שְׁמַע וּבַתְּפִלָּה. וּכְשֶׁאַתָּה מִתְפַּלֵּל, אַל תַּעַשׂ תְּפִלָּתְךָ קֶבַע, אֶלָּא רַחֲמִים וְתַחֲנוּנִים לִפְנֵי הַמָּקוֹם בָּרוּךְ הוּא, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר כִּי חַנּוּן וְרַחוּם הוּא אֶרֶךְ אַפַּיִם וְרַב חֶסֶד וְנִחָם עַל הָרָעָה. וְאַל תְּהִי רָשָׁע בִּפְנֵי עַצְמְךָ: Rabbi Shimon says: Be careful in the chanting the Sh’ma and in the Prayer. When you pray, do not make your prayer a fixed form, rather, mercy and supplication before the Place, It is Blessed, as it says (Joel 2, 13): “For (the Divine is) gracious and compassionate, slow to anger, abundant in kindness, and relenting of harm.” And do not be wicked to yourself. On one hand, Rabbi Shimon says הֱוֵי זָהִיר – be careful or meticulous with your practice. This is something we are all empowered to do ourselves; we need not rely on the power of Grace, but rather we must be decisive about our practice. This inner strength and decisiveness we need is represented by the sefirah of Gevurah, which also represents the self-restricting practices of asceticism. And yet, on the other hand, אַל תַּעַשׂ תְּפִלָּתְךָ קֶבַע – do not make your prayer a fixed form. It doesn’t seem to make sense – it just said to be careful and disciplined about it, and now it’s saying not to make it a fixed form? Then it explains: אֶלָּא רַחֲמִים וְתַחֲנוּנִים לִפְנֵי הַמָּקוֹם – Rather, mercy and supplication before the Place – in other words, your prayer must come from your heart, from the very “bottom of your being.” On this level, it is not a fixed form, because each time you must find your way back to your essence, and begin again from there… וְאַל תְּהִי רָשָׁע בִּפְנֵי עַצְמְךָ…הֱוֵי זָהִיר בִּקְרִיאַת שְׁמַע – Be careful in the chanting the Sh’ma… and do not be wicked to yourself… The Sh’ma is the affirmation of the Oneness of Being, so it is saying: don’t be wicked to yourself by forgetting that you too are essentially part of that Oneness! You must know that, however separate you seem to feel, you can find that Reality of Oneness within your own being, because It is who you really are. And so, while prayer takes us into humility by pointing out our egos, the Sh’ma takes us into Divinity by pointing out our Divine nature. When you have both, you have the preferred path… וַיְדַבֵּ֤ר יי אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה אַחֲרֵ֣י מ֔וֹת שְׁנֵ֖י בְּנֵ֣י אַהֲרֹ֑ן בְּקָרְבָתָ֥ם לִפְנֵי־יְהוָ֖ה וַיָּמֻֽתו׃ The Divine spoke to Moses after the death of the two sons of Aaron when they drew close before the Divine and they died… The death of Aaron’s two sons points to the destruction of ego – not the preferred way. It then proceeds to outline a preferable way: אַל־יָבֹ֤א בְכָל־עֵת֙ אֶל־הַקֹּ֔דֶשׁ... וְלֹ֣א יָמ֔וּת He is not to come at any time into the Holy…so that he not die… Aaron is instructed not to come into the Holy בְכָל־עֵת at any time. Meaning, you can’t enter the sacred through time – through the egoic perspective which sees oneself as achieving something over time. No amount of fasting, ritual, or learning – no amount of any accumulation that happens in time can get you there. Rather, it is only in becoming naked of time that we come into the Presence, because the Presence is not something separate from who we are, beneath all the accumulations of ego. That is וְתַחֲנוּנִים לִפְנֵי הַמָּקוֹם רַחֲמִים – compassion and supplication before the Place. “The Place” is a Name for God; it is always the “Place” where we find ourselves Now, the space within which this moment unfolds. Its revelation is rakhamim – compassion – in response to our takhanunim – our genuine longing; in other words, it is an act of Grace. At the same time, that doesn’t mean we are passive; the Grace becomes available when we have the Gevurah – the strength and boundaries to be zahir – to be careful and meticulous in our practice and open ourselves again anew, day by day, hour by hour, and moment by moment. In this week of Gevurah and Akharei Mot, may we renew the boundaries of our Jewish meditation practice while going again and again to the depths of our essence within the space of those boundaries.
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Parshah Summary – P’sha
The word metzora refers to a person afflicted by tzará’at, a scaly affliction of the skin which places them in a state of being ritually unfit to make offerings. The parshah begins by detailing how the recovered metzora is purified by the kohen (priest) with a special ritual involving two birds, spring water in an earthen vessel, a piece of cedar wood, a scarlet thread and a bundle of hyssop. A home can also be afflicted with tzará’at by the appearance of dark red or green patches on its walls. In a process lasting as long as nineteen days, a kohen determines if the house can be purified, or whether it must be demolished. Ritual impurity can also be engendered through a seminal or other discharge in a man, and menstruation or other discharge of blood in a woman, necessitating purification through immersion in a mikvah.
Torah of Awakening
זֹ֤את תִּֽהְיֶה֙ תּוֹרַ֣ת הַמְּצֹרָ֔ע בְּי֖וֹם טׇהֳרָת֑וֹ וְהוּבָ֖א אֶל־הַכֹּהֵֽן׃ וְיָצָא֙ הַכֹּהֵ֔ן אֶל־מִח֖וּץ לַֽמַּחֲנֶ֑ה וְרָאָה֙ הַכֹּהֵ֔ן וְהִנֵּ֛ה נִרְפָּ֥א נֶֽגַע־הַצָּרַ֖עַת מִן־הַצָּרֽוּעַ׃ וְצִוָּה֙ הַכֹּהֵ֔ן וְלָקַ֧ח לַמִּטַּהֵ֛ר שְׁתֵּֽי־צִפֳּרִ֥ים חַיּ֖וֹת טְהֹר֑וֹת וְעֵ֣ץ אֶ֔רֶז וּשְׁנִ֥י תוֹלַ֖עַת וְאֵזֹֽב׃ This shall be the ritual for a metzorah on the day of their purification: they are brought to the priest. The priest shall go outside the camp, and the priest shall see that the metzorah has been healed of the scaly affliction. The priest shall then command to take for the one to be purified: two live pure birds, cedar wood, crimson thread, and hyssop. - Vayikra (Leviticus) 14:2-4; Parshat Metzorah
A couple sits anxiously in the therapist’s office, unsure how to begin talking about their problems at home. “Why don’t you start,” says the therapist to the woman. “My husband is a jerk!” she blurts. “Please,’” says the therapist, “Only ‘I’ statements. Don’t tell me about him, tell me what’s going on with you. You can start by saying, ‘I feel…’”
“Okay,” says the wife, “I feel like he is a jerk!” Differentiating between your actual feelings in the present moment and your impulse to accuse, judge, or blame, is not easy when emotions are inflamed, but making this distinction is crucial. There is a world of difference between. “I feel like he is a jerk,” on one hand, and “When he comes home late, I feel a pain in my stomach,” on the other. The first is an attack – it is accusatory. It is also an opinion, a judgement, not a true statement, and it puts the responsibility on something outside of oneself. The second is absolutely truthful – and also vulnerable, exposing the actual experience of what happens when he “comes home late.” The difficulty, of course, is that when we feel emotional pain, the last thing we want is to be vulnerable. The impulse is likely to attack back, to accuse, to blame. But ultimately, this is a self-defeating impulse; our negative words perpetuate our problems rather than correcting them. There’s a Jewish proverb of unknown origin: “A bird that you set free may be caught again, but a word that escapes your lips will never return.” שְׁתֵּֽי־צִפֳּרִ֥ים חַיּ֖וֹת טְהֹר֑וֹת – two live pure birds… In the ritual of purification, one of the birds is slaughtered over an earthenware vessel filled with water. The remaining live bird is then held together with the cedar wood, the crimson thread and hyssop, and dipped into the bloody water. The water is then sprinkled on the afflicted person seven times, and the live bird is set free into an open field. What does this mean? Medieval commentator Rabbeinu Ephraim explains the symbolism of this ritual in transformational terms. The first bird represents negative speech – gossip and slander. The “earthenware vessel” represents our physical bodies. The “bird” being “slaughtered” over the “vessel” means freeing ourselves from arrogance by becoming aware of the fragile and temporary nature our bodies, so that the impulse toward negative speech is “slaughtered.” כְּלִי־חֶ֖רֶשׂ עַל־מַ֥יִם חַיִּֽים – an earthen vessel, over living waters… The “living waters” represent Truth, which fills the humble “earthen vessel,” our bodies, once the arrogance is removed. The bird that is set free represents the disease of tzará’at, – just as the bird flies away, so should the disease depart. But, just as the bird might return, so too can the affliction return if one falls back into patterns of negative speech. Why is it so easy to fall back into negative speech? Why is it so hard to stay free from judgement and projection, and instead stay present with what we are actually experiencing, so that we might be nourished by the “living waters” of the vulnerable truth? Because the truth can be painful and ego crushing. And yet, when we project blame and judgment without fully being with the truth of our experience, healing cannot happen. Instead, we become the disease – a disease of living on the surface of life, of holding back from our inner depths, out of fear that our depths will be too painful; that is why tzará’at is a skin disease. Like returning home after a trip – the windows and doors have been shut and the atmosphere is stagnant and stuffy, until they are opened to let the air flow again. That’s what it’s like – our inner world can be like a shut up house, festering. But open the doors and windows – speak the truth, and healing begins: שִׁוַּ֥עְתִּי אֵ֝לֶ֗יךָ וַתִּרְפָּאֵֽנִי – I cried out to You and you healed me… (Psalm 30) This is the true potential of prayer and meditation – to “open up the house” every day – to feel whatever needs to be felt in meditation, and to express whatever needs to be expressed in prayer. In this way, we tap the healing power of Presence; the “living waters’ can nourish the “home” of our bodies and renew our spirits. There is a story that the poverty of Reb Mordechai of Pintchov was so extreme, he could barely support his household at all. His wife would nag him incessantly to tell their woeful situation to his rebbe, the Seer of Lublin. Time after time he would travel to Lublin, but never once did he mention his troubles to the Seer, because upon arriving there he would forget them completely. Being a practical woman, his wife decided to say nothing more, but to make the journey there by a separate wagon immediately after he had left home. When Reb Mordechai arrived at Lublin, he was confronted by the fact of his wife’s presence. There was no way out, and so he told the Seer all about their state of affairs at home. “Why did you never mention this until now?” asked the Seer. “Master,” answered Reb Mordechai, “I assumed that my situation would be known to you through Ruakh Hakodesh – through the holy spirit that rests upon you.” “Not so,” answered the Seer. “It is true, the Torah says: A person whose skin has the plague of tza’árat shall be brought to a priest, וְרָאָ֣ה הַכֹּהֵ֣ן – the priest shall see. That is to say: As soon the ailing person is brought before the priest, the priest will be able to see the malady for himself, without being told. But, in the case of plagues that affect houses, the Torah teaches otherwise: And the house owner shall come and tell the priest, saying: כְּנֶ֕גַע נִרְאָ֥ה לִ֖י בַּבָּֽיִת – ‘Something like a plague seems to be in the house!’ From this we see that for plagues affecting houses, the priest cannot see it; he must be told about it.” On this Shabbat Metzorah – the Sabbath of Affliction – may we not shrink away from the “bitter herbs,” but rather may we fully feel and truthfully express our inner afflictions as they arise – not with judgment and blame, but as healing prayer. And in this Passover season, may our journey of inner liberation be reflected swiftly in the world; may our current plagues of violence and war come swiftly to an end for peace and wellbeing of all peoples.
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Parshah Summary – P’sha
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 tzaraat, an affliction 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 tzaraat recurs, the entire garment or home must be destroyed.
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
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 conceives and 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
Rabbi Mendel was sunk in great poverty. One day, when he was a guest at Rabbi Elimelekh’s opulent table, a servant forgot to give him a spoon. When they came to the soup course, everyone ate except for Rabbi Mendel. The tzaddik noticed and asked him, “Why aren’t you eating? Is the soup not to your liking?”
“I have no spoon,” said his guest sheepishly. “Look,” said Rabbi Elimelekh, “one must know enough to ask for a spoon, and a plate too, if need be!” Rabbi Mendel took the word of his teacher to heart. From that day on, his fortunes were on the mend. The story points out a potential danger of a living a committed spiritual life. In ordinary life, when we become involved with worldly endeavors, our tendency is to become emotionally “attached” to our goals – meaning, our sense of “rightness” becomes conditional. If we are successful, we are okay; if not, we are miserable. Spiritually speaking, this kind of attachment to the fruits of action is poison, causing us to lose our connection with the Eternal as we become caught up in the dramas of the temporal. But, as Rabbi Elimelekh points out, attempting to avoid involvement with the world altogether is absurd; one must “ask for a spoon or a plate” when necessary. The trick, of course, is balance. If we wish to lead a committed spiritual life, we will still need to dip into the temporal. After all, the material world is the vehicle through which we can come to realize the Eternal; the two are not separate. אִשָּׁה֙ כִּ֣י תַזְרִ֔יעַ וְיָלְדָ֖ה – When a woman conceives and gives birth… On the metaphorical level, “conceiving” and “giving birth” means to create some effect in the world. Whatever it is we are trying to accomplish, action begins with “conceiving” – with the spontaneous arising of thought in the mind. Then, as our thoughts become clarified into decisions and manifest as actions, we “give birth” to something. This “conceiving” and “giving birth” is represented by the letter ה hei, the path of self-expression and individual uniqueness. וְטָֽמְאָה֙ – she shall be ritually impure… Whenever we engage in worldly action, we enter the world of time; we envision a particular goal and risk its failure by involving ourselves in the time-bound process of trying to bring that goal about. And as we dip into the temporal, there is the tendency to lose our connection with Eternal; meaning, to lose our identification with the open space of awareness beyond the thinking mind, as we become involved with the particular project in which we are engaging. We seem to lose whatever inner freedom we may have gained through meditation; we forget all about the space of this moment and get tangled up our situations. That is the state of tamei, the “ritual impurity.” שִׁבְעַ֣ת יָמִ֔ים – seven days… When we become “stuck” and we try to return to inner spaciousness, we may still feel “stuck. That is because before we can return fully to inner freedom, we first need to simply be present with whatever mind state we’re already in. The important thing is not to become disheartened and give up – but to just be wherever we are at. That is the “seven days” of being tamei – “ritually unfit” to enter the mikdash – the sacred space. “Seven days” means the world of time created by the mind that imagines past and future, as in the “seven days of creation.” כִּימֵ֛י נִדַּ֥ת דְּוֺתָ֖הּ תִּטְמָֽא – like the days of her separation… Niddah refers to the time of menstruation, but it literally means “separation,” hinting: when we are caught by the dramas of time, we temporarily lose connection with our inherent Wholeness; we feel “separate” from the moment, as our minds and hearts aim toward a different moment. But if we can stay with it, being conscious of the feelings of constriction that arise in the body, being present with our state of disconnection, the barrier to Wholeness will ultimately drop away. וּבַיּ֖וֹם הַשְּׁמִינִ֑י יִמּ֖וֹל בְּשַׂ֥ר עׇרְלָתֽוֹ – On the eighth day, the flesh of his foreskin shall be circumcised… The foreskin – the orlah – is a metaphor – a strange metaphor perhaps, but as a barrier, it hints at the feeling of separation that the ego feels. The number eight represents Eternity, as it is one step beyond seven, and on its side it is the symbol for infinity. The message is that when we are involved in “giving birth” to something in the world, there can be an inherent orlah – a feeling of separation, and that is okay and natural. So, when you find yourself in those “seven days” of disconnection from the sacred – just be there. It is only temporary. Stick with the practice, meditating and being present with the experience as it is. When you do this, you will certainly come to יּוֹם הַשְּׁמִינִי yom hashmini – the experience of the Eternal in the present moment, that sense of “arrival” where all barriers drop away. In this week of Shabbat Tazria – The Sabbath of Conception – let us remember to fully embrace whatever states we find ourselves in, and in that affirmation of life, seek to co-birth a more kind, loving and conscious world.
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Parshah Summary – P’sha
The parshah opens with the eighth day (yom hashmini) of the inauguration ceremony for Aaron and his sons to begin officiating as 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 about 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
וַיְהִי֙ בַּיּ֣וֹם הַשְּׁמִינִ֔י קָרָ֣א מֹשֶׁ֔ה לְאַהֲרֹ֖ן וּלְבָנָ֑יו וּלְזִקְנֵ֖י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃ On the eighth day Moses called Aaron and his sons, and the elders of Israel. - Vayikra (Leviticus) 9:1 Parshat Shmini
In his early life, Rabbi Yehiel Mikhal of Zlotchov lived in great poverty, but not for an hour did happiness desert him. Someone once asked him: “Rabbi, how can you pray day after day: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ... שֶׁעָשָׂה לִי כָּל־צָרְכִּי Blessed are You… who provides for all my needs? For surely you lack everything that a person needs!” He replied, “Apparently, what I need is poverty, and that is what I have been supplied with.”
Rabbi Yehiel Mikhal’s response points to the deeper spiritual potential for how we may relate to our desires. Let’s look at what happens when we desire something, and then we receive the object of our desire. For example, food: we feel the pain of hunger, the desire to eat something, and then we eat and feel satisfaction. But there is something else going on that is easy to miss: that is, a different sense of incompleteness that is caused not by the hunger, but by the mental and emotional fixation on the object of desire. It is not just the incompleteness of hunger, but also a basic dis-ease with the present moment, a psychological “reaching” for a future moment when one imagines being satisfied. Then, along with the ordinary satisfaction of eating the food, not only is there a sense of completeness in satisfying the hunger, there is also (hopefully) a relaxing into present moment reality while one enjoys the food, and a dropping away of that dis-ease of wanting. That simple connection with the moment and the dropping away of dis-ease is itself satisfying – even more so, sometimes, than the food. This inner sense of inner Wholeness, available when we become present, is represented by the letter ג gimel. Although it is true that everyone experiences the ג gimel, the inner fullness of Presence, it is rare to discern between the two different levels of inner Wholeness and ordinary gratification. Instead, we are inclined to assume that all of our satisfaction comes from the food, or from whatever is the object of gratification. But in any receiving of satisfaction, the deeper pleasure comes not from the object, but from the temporary letting go of wanting and relaxing into connection with the present moment. That is ultimately the purpose of self-restricting practices like fasting, for example, or the giving up of bread on Passover. These practices work because, ordinarily, when we feel a craving for something, our heart tends to run after what we want and we lose our connection with Presence. But when we let ourselves feel the craving on purpose, returning attention to our present moment experience without getting carried away by our desire for gratification, then it is possible to re-awaken that sense of inner Wholeness, without needing to satisfy the external desire – this is the essence of meditation. With practice, we can become more and more rooted in this inner Wholeness, which opens the deeper dimension of the morning blessing: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יי אֱלֹהֵֽ–נוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם שֶׁעָשָׂה לִי כָּל־צָרְכִּי. Barukh Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melekh HaOlam, she’asa li kol tzorki! Blessed are You, Hashem, our Divinity, Sovereign of the Universe, who provides for all my needs! קָרָ֣א מֹשֶׁ֔ה לְאַהֲרֹ֖ן וּלְבָנָ֑יו וּלְזִקְנֵ֖י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל – Moses called Aaron and his sons, and the elders of Israel… Moses is calling to the priests and elders in order to give them instructions regarding the offerings they must bring in order to have a vision of the Divine. It then goes on in great detail about the animals and grains and oils the are to burn on the altar, which results in the desired vision. וַיֵָא כְבוֹד־יי אֶל־כׇּל־הָעָֽם – …and the Divine Presence appeared to all the people…. Why were all those offerings necessary to bring about a Divine vision? When we experience the satisfaction of eating, we can elevate that experience through gratitude – through affirming that our food is a gift from God. This is the practical function of the various blessings said for different foods. But if we want to experience the ג gimel – the deeper Wholeness that is present even within our neediness, then we must learn to differentiate the pleasure that comes from Presence from the pleasure that comes from gratification. We can do this through sacrifice – through purposely giving something up; such self-restricting practices are represented by the sefirah of Gevurah. Then, just as the Divine Presence appeared to the Children of Israel, so too we can taste the deeper satisfaction of connecting with the moment as it is, beyond all the temporary and finite pleasures, wonderful and necessary as they are. And when we do that, a deeper gratitude can emerge – gratitude not only for the particular blessings we experience, but for the opportunity we have to practice connecting with the unconditional Wholeness of simply Being through meditation. וַיְהִי֙ בַּיּ֣וֹם הַשְּׁמִינִ֔י – And it was, on the eighth day… The first word, וַיְהִי vay’hi, is a form of the verb “to be,” which is the root of the Divine Name, hinting at this deeper meaning of the idea of God: God is an entity to be believed in, but relational word, signifying a prayerful attitude toward Being. The word בַּיּוֹם bayom means “on the day” but it can also mean “in today” meaning, in the Now. In other words, the Divinity of Being is not something to achieve or reach; it is Ever Present; it is always This Moment. The word הַשְּׁמִינִי hashmini means “the eighth.” In Kabbalah, the number seven signifies the natural world, as in the seven days of creation. The number eight, then, is beyond nature – Infinity. We also have this meaning in the shape of our Arabic number eight, which when turned on its side, is a symbol for Infinity. In other words, when we connect with the Divinity of Being by becoming present, there is an experiential sense of the Infinite, as we come to feel the boundlessness of the field of awareness that we are, within which all experience comes and goes, including the experience of want. In this week of Shabbat Sh’mini, the Sabbath of the Infinite, let us absorb the lessons of Gevurah – of delaying and sometimes surrendering gratification, thereby strengthening our connection with that deeper satisfaction of ג gimel, in Eternal Present.
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Parshah Summary – P’sha
The parshah opens with God instructing Moses to command (Tzav) Aaron and his sons regarding their duties and rights as kohanim (priests) who offer the korbanot (animal and meal offerings) in the Sanctuary. The fire on the altar must be kept constantly burning at all times. Upon the altar, the Olah (Ascending) offering is burned completely. Also burned are the veins of fat from the Shlamim (Peace offerings), the Hatat (Sin offering), the Asham (Guilt offering), and a handful of grain that is separated from the Minkhah (Meal offering). The kohanim eat the meat of the Sin and Guilt offerings, and the remainder of the Meal offering. The Peace offering is eaten by the one who brought it, except for specified portions given to the kohen. Aaron and his sons remain within the Sanctuary compound for seven days, during which Moses initiates them into the priesthood.
Torah of Awakening
צַ֤ו אֶֽת־אַהֲרֹן֙ וְאֶת־בָּנָ֣יו לֵאמֹ֔ר זֹ֥את תּוֹרַ֖ת הָעֹלָ֑ה הִ֣וא הָעֹלָ֡ה עַל֩ מוֹקְדָ֨הֿ עַל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֤חַ כׇּל־הַלַּ֙יְלָה֙ עַד־הַבֹּ֔קֶר וְאֵ֥שׁ הַמִּזְבֵּ֖חַ תּ֥וּקַד בּֽוֹ׃ Command Aaron and his sons, saying: This is the torah of the Olah (Ascending) offering: The Olah offering shall remain upon the pyre upon the altar all night until morning, and the altar’s fire shall be kept burning upon it… - Vayikra (Leviticus) 6:2 Parshat Tzav
In the days of the Baal Shem Tov, it once happened at the conclusion of Yom Kippur that the sky was particularly cloudy. The moon was completely obscured, preventing the Baal Shem from making the Kiddush Levana – the Sanctification of the Moon that is said after Yom Kippur. He sensed that the welfare of his people somehow depended on his making the blessing that night. Determined, he stood beneath the night sky, concentrating his mind to cause the clouds to disperse, but with no success. He eventually accepted his failure as what needed to be, and retired to his room. His disciples, however, knew nothing of his sadness and had begun to dance around the house in ecstatic celebration. Eventually their revelry burst through the door into the Baal Shem Tov’s room, and in their mad ecstasy, they took him by the hand and drew him into the dance. As they danced, the Baal Shem noticed – the sky had cleared and the waxing moon beamed brightly! The Baal Shem made the brakha (blessing) and wept in gratitude that the danger had been averted.
On the surface, this story is about joy and the power of community to lift our burdens of sorrow. But on a deeper level, the Baal Shem Tov’s response to his failure in controlling his situation demonstrates a wise and practical path for dealing with life’s challenges. This path consists of three phases, which we could call: acceptance, surrender, and affirmation. The words “acceptance” and “surrender” are often used interchangeably, but they are distinct. Acceptance is a choice: when our situation is unacceptable, we can step back from the cycle of emotional resistance by simply deciding, “this is what is happening, I must accept it.” Acceptance doesn’t mean approval and it doesn’t mean the absence of sadness or anger; it only means that our intellect has come into harmony with reality, that we have stopped struggling intellectually against the truth of the moment. The practice of acceptance is represented by the letter ו vav, which means “and” – we say “yes and” to whatever is, because it is. In the story, acceptance the first phase of the Baal Shem Tov’s response, when he acknowledges his inability to move the clouds with his mind and retires to his room. “Surrender,” on the other hand, happens by Grace; it is when our clinging to things being other than the way they are drops away, and a new joy can sprout. Surrender is represented by the letter מ mem, which means “water,” hinting at the way water simply takes the shape of the vessel that holds it. We cannot force ourselves to surrender, but we can open ourselves to its possibility through acceptance. In the story, surrender is represented by the disciples bursting into his room and drawing him into the dance. The disciples come to the Baal Shem Tov of their own accord, but he is susceptible to them because he has ceased his struggling with the clouds. Acceptance was his choice; surrender came by Grace. From this perspective, the miracle of the clouds finally parting, allowing for the blessing on the moon, points not to the supernatural, but to the power of how we perceive what happens. After all, we can notice: the clouds were bound to clear eventually. The significance of this moment is how the event was received by the Baal Shem: in the wake of his surrender and letting go, the very thing that eluded him came on its own; this was the fruit of letting go – the transformation from lack to fulfillment, from loss to gratitude… הָעֹלָ֡ה עַל֩ מוֹקְדָ֨הֿ עַל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֤חַ כׇּל־הַלַּ֙יְלָה֙ עַד־הַבֹּ֔קֶר – The elevation offering itself shall stay on the flame upon the altar all night until morning… If we want to “elevate” our relationship with disappointment and failure, we must become aware of our tendency to resist during the “night time” of our challenges; we must make the decision to accept, and to then remain alert – to keep the “flame” of our awareness burning so that we do not revert to our unconsciousness, all through the “night” until the “morning” – that is, until surrender comes to us. This is the first stage. הוֹצִ֤יא אֶת־הַדֶּ֙שֶׁן֙ אֶל־מִח֣וּץ לַֽמַּחֲנֶ֔ה…הַכֹּהֵ֜ן – The priest… shall carry the ashes outside the camp… Then, after we have accepted and “burned” through any negativity by being present with it, we must let go of the ashes. We cannot force ourselves to surrender, but in being present with our resistance, it transforms. At this point, we must remain present so as to not resurrect the negativity; don’t keep it alive by creating more mental stories; remove it from your space. This is the second stage. וּבִעֵ֨ר עָלֶ֧יהָ הַכֹּהֵ֛ן עֵצִ֖ים בַּבֹּ֣קֶר בַּבֹּ֑קֶר – and the priest shall feed wood to (the burning flame), from morning to morning… But then, when the “morning” comes in the wake of surrender, we’ve got to continue burning the fire of Presence, rather than practice only when things are challenging; this is daily meditation. It is not difficult, but it takes an initial commitment to break through the inertia and establish it as a habit. אֵ֗שׁ תָּמִ֛יד תּוּקַ֥ד עַל־הַמִּזְבֵּ֖חַ לֹ֥א תִכְבֶּֽה׃ – a perpetual fire shall be kept burning on the altar; it should never be extinguished… This is the point of meditation: that through persistence over time, through the cycles of acceptance, surrender and affirmation, we can develop an אֵשׁ תָּמִיד aysh tamid, a perpetual Presence that burns brightly through both the day times and the night times of life. This is the letter ש shin, the practice of moment to moment attentiveness. In this week of Shabbat Tzav, the Sabbath of Connection, may we connect these three phases – accepting challenge and failure when it happens, letting go of negativity so that we may be drawn back into the Dance of Life, and coming to bless the holiness of each moment, regardless of whether our fortune is “waxing” or “waning.”
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Parshah Summary – P’sha
The parshah opens with God calling to Moses (וַיִּקְרָא vayikra) from the Ohel Mo’ed, the Tent of Meeting, and proceeding to instruct him in the laws of the korbanot, the animal and meal offerings. These include: the “Elevation Offering” (Olah) that is burned completely in fire atop the altar; the different types of “Meal Offering” (Minkhah) prepared with fine flour, olive oil and frankincense; the “Peace Offering” (Shlamim), whose meat was eaten by the one bringing it, after some parts are burned on the altar and others are given to the kohanim (priests); the different types of “Sin Offering” (Hatat) brought to atone for transgressions committed by the high priest, the entire community, the king or the ordinary community member; and the “Guilt Offering” (Asham) brought by one who has misappropriated property of the Mishkan, (the Sanctuary), who is in doubt as to whether they transgressed some prohibition, or who has committed a “betrayal” by swearing falsely to defraud a fellow human being.
Torah of Awakening
אִם־עֹלָ֤ה קׇרְבָּנוֹ֙ מִן־הַבָּקָ֔ר זָכָ֥ר תָּמִ֖ים יַקְרִיבֶ֑נּוּ אֶל־פֶּ֜תַח אֹ֤הֶל מוֹעֵד֙ יַקְרִ֣יב אֹת֔וֹ לִרְצֹנ֖וֹ לִפְנֵ֥י יי׃ If their offering is an Elevation Offering from the herd, an unblemished pure male they shall bring. To the entrance of the Tent of Meeting they shall bring it close, for favor before the Divine. - Vayikra (Leviticus) 1:3 Parshat Vayikra
Rabbi Hayyim Meir Yehiel, the grandson of the Maggid of Koznitz, told this story: “When I was a boy of eleven, my grandfather summoned me and said, ‘Come to me at dawn and I shall teach you Kabbalah.’ I did not do as he said, but from that time on, I studied alone at dawn and did my avodah alone, for I did not want anything I couldn’t get by my own efforts. After a time my grandfather again summoned me and said, ‘At first I thought you did not like getting up early. But now I have found that you are up early, but nevertheless you do not come to me.’
“But he grasped the fact that I wanted to study on my own, for he went on to say: ‘Well, just make a point of being there every morning when I pray, and I shall see to it that you receive holy illumination.’ But I did not even want to get any illumination without working for it myself, and so I came only to the beginning and end of his prayers. Time passed, and then one night I had a vision. My deceased teacher, the Rabbi of Apt, zikhrono livrakha, appeared to me and brought me tefillin from paradise. When I had bound the shel rosh to my forehead, illumination came to me…” While being of service is an indispensable cornerstone of the spiritual path, we must be aware of its shadow side: the tendency to project onto others what we think they need, so that we may feel as though we are helping, or be seen as helpers by others. For example, my friend Josh is blind. When he walks around in public, it is not uncommon for someone to grab his arm aggressively and say, “Here let me help you!” and try to force him in a certain direction. Their intentions may be good, but they are unaware of their own motivation, of their psychological need to help others. And consequently, their “help” is not really help – it is simply food for their self-image, for ego. It is like the old Sesame Street episode, where Grover is straining to carry a really heavy brick. The brick has the word “HELP” carved into it. As he moans and groans trying not to drop the brick, he keeps yelling, “Help! Help!” The great trickster Ernie walks up and says, “Oh, Grover, you need some help? I’ve got some help for you, hold on just a minute.” He bends down and picks up another big heavy brick, also with the word “HELP” carved into it, and piles it on top of the first brick, increasing Grover’s burden. “HELP! HELP!” Grover yells even louder. “Oh, you want even more help??” says Ernie. Ernie then picks up yet another big heavy “HELP” brick and piles it on top of the two that Grover is already holding. This goes on a few more times – Grover yelling “Help!” and Ernie just making it worse and worse by piling on more and more HELP bricks. Finally, Grover screams and falls backwards, all the bricks falling on top of him. Have you ever felt a strong desire in yourself be the helper, to be the one who “knows” or is “needed?” The presence of these kinds of strong feelings (or any strong feelings for that matter) are a sign that we need to be aware of ourselves, and ask ourselves: are we really seeing clearly what is needed, or are we unconsciously trying to satisfy our own need to play a certain role, or to be seen a certain way? The root of the problem, of course, is not the desire to be of service; it is identifying with what we are doing. It’s seeing our “self” as the “doer.” It is like a small child who wants to “help” you cook in the kitchen. You might let them “help” by holding your wrist while you stir something in a hot pan, or hold your arm while you lift something much too heavy and dangerous for them. They feel like they are helping, but they are not really the doer. That is actually our situation. We go through motions, thinking “I am doing such-and-such,” but actually the act is being done by Everything; we are only apparently doing it. When you turn on the car, it may seem like the key is turning it on. But is it the key? Is it the starter? Is it the spark plug? There is no single thing doing anything; everything is doing everything all the time. Yet we tend to think, “I am doing it.” In thinking of ourselves as doers, we take on the most profound burden of all. Like Grover, we strain and moan under the burden of life, yelling, “Help! Help!” But when it comes to the burden of being the doer, any “help” we get is ultimately like Ernie’s help. We don’t need that kind of help; what we really need to drop the burden. But, we can’t “try” to drop the burden; that is just more burden. The “me” that tries to drop the burden is itself the burden. So how do we drop the burden? אֶל־פֶּ֜תַח אֹ֤הֶל מוֹעֵד֙ יַקְרִ֣יב אֹת֔וֹ לִרְצֹנ֖וֹ לִפְנֵ֥י יי – To the entrance of the Tent of Meeting they shall bring it close, willingly, before the Divine… The word for “bring close” – יַקְרִ֣יב yakriv – is the same root as קָרבָּן korban, a sacrificial offering. So the meaning of a sacrificial offering is not “sacrifice,” but rather “drawing close,” or “becoming intimate.” אֶל־פֶּ֜תַח אֹ֤הֶל מוֹעֵד֙ – To the opening of the Tent of Meeting… The “Tent of Meeting” is the place we meet Reality. And where is that? It is always only where we already are! לִרְצֹנ֖וֹ לִפְנֵ֥י יי – willingly, before the Divine… But, just because we are always here now, doesn’t mean that we are close or intimate with the Here and Now, with Reality as It manifests Here and Now, that Divine Name which means “Being.” Rather, we need to want it; one needs to come לִרְצֹנוֹ litzono; to come willingly to this moment; this is meditation. אֶל־פֶּתַח – to the opening… Draw your attention willingly into the פֶּתַח petakh – into the openness of the present; that is the openness of consciousness within which this fullness of this moment is now arising. Don’t hold this moment as a burden that you need to change or control – offer yourself to it; that is the key. וְסָמַ֣ךְ יָד֔וֹ עַ֖ל רֹ֣אשׁ הָעֹלָ֑ה – They shall lean their hand on the head of the Elevation Offering… “Leaning” is the exact opposite of “carrying.” To carry a burden, you have to put your hands under it. Here it says they lean their hand on the korban – it implies a restfulness in the “drawing near,” a surrender and trust in “being supported,” which we can see in the word for “lean,” itself: סָמַךְ samakh, which comes from the root that means “support.” Thus we might retranslate: “Come close in openness and rest upon the Divine support, present now as the fullness of this moment…” This is “letting go.” But as long as we don’t let go, we will experience life as somewhat antagonistic; the message we get from life’s challenges will continue to be experienced as difficulty. This message will come to us in the forms of whatever situations arise, over and over again: וַיִּקְרָ֖א אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֑ה – Called to Moses… This opening verse doesn’t say who called to Moses, it just says “called.” The last letter of וַיִּקְרָ֖א Vayikra is א alef, which has the numerical value of one, and is a symbol of Divine Oneness. On a Torah scroll, this particular א alef is written smaller than all the other letters, hinting that the “Oneness” is hidden within everything, calling to us from everything, nudging us to see – it is not you who acts. When we can see that it is not the “me” who acts, but the Divine Oneness that is acting through Everything, we can let go of our burden. Then, the help we offer will also not be a burden; it won’t demand anything in return, or push anybody around. It becomes a true gift, a Divine gift, with no strings attached. There’s a story of Rabbi Baruch of Mezbizh, that once he was saying the blessing after his meal. When he got to the following passage, he repeated it three times with great fervor: וְנָא אַל־תַּצְרִיכֵֽנוּ יי אֱלֺהֵֽינוּ לֺא לִידֵי מַתְּ֒נַת בָּשָׂר וָדָם וְלֺא לִידֵי הַלְוָאָתָם כִּי אִם לְיָדְ֒ךָ הַמְּלֵאָה הַפְּ֒תוּחָה הַקְּ֒דוֹשָׁה וְהָרְ֒חָבָה... Please let us not need the gifts of flesh and blood, nor their loans, but only your full, open, holy and generous hand… When he finished, his daughter asked: “Abba, why did you pray so hard that you should not need the gifts of people? Your only support comes to you from the gifts that people bring you!” “My daughter,” he replied, “You must know that there are three ways of supporting the tzaddik. The first way is when a person thinks, ‘I’m a generous person, so I’ll bring a gift.’ This way is referred to by the words, ‘let us not need the gifts of flesh and blood.’ The second way is when a person thinks, ‘I’ll give something now, and then I’ll get some reward in the future.’ Those people want heaven to pay them interest; that’s the ‘loan.’ But there are some who know: ‘God has put this money in my hand to give, and I’m just the messenger.’ These are the ‘full, open, holy and generous hand...’” In this week of Shabbat Vayikra, The Sabbath of Calling, may we hear the Divine Call from all things, urging us to drop the burden of separateness and accept the סֶמֶך semekh, the Divine support acting through everything to allow us to be, in this moment…
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Parshah Summary – P’sha
An accounting (pekudei) is made of the gold, silver and copper donated by the people for the making of the Mishkan, the Sanctuary. Betzalel, Aholiav and their assistants make the eight priestly garments—the apron, breastplate, cloak, crown, hat, tunic, sash and breeches—according to the specifications communicated to Moses in Parshat Tetzaveh. The Mishkan is completed and all its components are brought to Moses, who assembles it, anoints it with the holy anointing oil, and initiates Aaron and his four sons into the priesthood. A cloud appears over the Mishkan, signifying the Divine Presence that has come to dwell within it…
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
אֵ֣לֶּה פְקוּדֵ֤י הַמִּשְׁכָּן֙ מִשְׁכַּ֣ן הָעֵדֻ֔ת אֲשֶׁ֥ר פֻּקַּ֖ד עַל־פִּ֣י מֹשֶׁ֑ה עֲבֹדַת֙ הַלְוִיִּ֔ם בְּיַד֙ אִֽיתָמָ֔ר בֶּֽן־אַהֲרֹ֖ן הַכֹּהֵֽן׃ These are the records of the Sanctuary, the Sanctuary of Witnessing, which were recorded according to mouth of Moses—the work of the Levites under the direction of Ithamar son of Aaron the priest. - Shemot (Exodus) 38:21, Parshat Pekudei
Rabbi Yitzhak of Vorki told this story: “Once when I was traveling with David Lelov, of blessed memory, we arrived in the little town of Elkish about an hour past midnight. Rabbi David did not want to wake anyone, so we went to Rabbi Berish the baker, who we found standing at his oven. When we entered, I saw his face cloud over because we had found him doing his mundane livelihood work rather than praying or learning Torah.
“‘Oh,’ said Rabbi David, ‘If only Hashem let me earn my living by the work of my hands! The truth of the matter is that everyone in Israel has an inner urge of which they themselves are barely aware: what they want is to work for their fellow human beings. Everyone who plies a trade – the cobbler, the tailor, or the baker – takes money in return for their work only that they may live and continue working for their fellow humans.’ While Rabbi David was speaking, I saw the baker’s face clear and grow brighter and brighter.” There is an instinct of self-interest, a drive which compels us to earn a living and enjoy the fruits of our labors. We might call this instinct the drive of self-preservation or self-enhancement. In the language of Judaism it is known as the yetzer hara, the “evil inclination.” וּמֵעֵ֗ץ הַדַּ֙עַת֙ ט֣וֹב וָרָ֔ע לֹ֥א תֹאכַ֖ל מִמֶּ֑נּוּ… And from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Bad, you must not eat of it… - Bereisheet (Genesis) 2:17 This “bad” yetzer becomes part of our makeup in our origin story – a result of “eating” from the “fruit” of duality – that is, the ability to comprehend the duality of time – of working to move from our present state of perceived lack to a future state in which we may “eat” from the “fruits” of our labors. But the other side of the equation, also awakened in our legend of origin, is the yetzer tov – the “good inclination.” This is the inner urge to which Rabbi David refers: the urge to be of service, to make a positive difference, to contribute. Both drives are essential; the yetzer hara is not really ra, not really a bad thing – it is necessary to insure that we take our next breath; it is the drive of survival. But the yetzer tov is what gives us a sense of purpose; it gives meaning to our survival. Thus, the yetzer hara is only ra when it separates from the yetzer tov and operates for its own sake, becoming ego – that dark self-sense emerging from our identification with the yetzer hara. But when it works together with the yetzer tov, then the mundane work of earning a living can become holy service; the actions of the body in time can become service of the Eternal. This yetzer tov, this impulse toward sacred service, toward meaning, toward serving our fellow beings, is not mysterious or inaccessible, though it can be easily eclipsed by its more obvious counterpart. The aim of spirituality is to overcome this tendency of the sacred to be concealed beneath the ego and reveal the sacred in the mundane. אֵ֣לֶּה פְקוּדֵ֤י הַמִּשְׁכָּן֙ – These are the remembrances of the Sanctuary… That is, remember to make your “self” into a Sanctuary. How do we do that? מִשְׁכַּ֣ן הָעֵדֻ֔ת – The Sanctuary of Witnessing… The moment we become witness to what is happening, simply seeing without judgment or resistance, our inner space becomes a Sanctuary of Presence; this is meditation. וְאִתּ֗וֹ אׇהֳלִיאָ֞ב בֶּן־אֲחִיסָמָ֛ךְ לְמַטֵּה־דָ֖ן חָרָ֣שׁ וְחֹשֵׁ֑ב וְרֹקֵ֗ם – and with him was Oholiab son of Ahisamach, of the tribe of Dan, a carver, a weaver, and an embroiderer… חָרָ֣שׁ – a carver… To become a Mishkan HaEidut, a Sanctuary of Witnessing, we must first let our inner space be “carved” by the content of this moment. What do you see? What do you hear? What do you feel? Don’t resist, let your inner space take the form of this moment, however it arises; this is the Path of מ Mem, of “merging.” חֹשֵׁ֑ב – a weaver… Then, let the fullness of everything in this moment be “woven” into a whole within the space of your awareness. Don’t tear the moment apart with judgments and resistance – it is already one whole tapestry, when you allow it to be as it is; this is the Path of י Yud, of “trusting.” Together, מ mem and י yud are מי mi – “who” – that is, the question we must pose to ourselves: who are we really, beneath this ego, beneath this obvious drive toward self-preservation? Mi? This brings us to… רֹקֵ֗ם – an embroiderer – From this state of Presence, we can live our purpose – serving the moment, “embroidering” the sacred into our thoughts, words and actions. This is the Path of ה Hei, of sacred “self-expression.” And when we are in the flow of our sacred purpose, the ego loses its seductive power… וְלֹא־יָכֹ֣ל מֹשֶׁ֗ה לָבוֹא֙ אֶל־אֹ֣הֶל מוֹעֵ֔ד כִּֽי־שָׁכַ֥ן עָלָ֖יו הֶעָנָ֑ן וּכְב֣וֹד יְהֹוָ֔ה מָלֵ֖א אֶת־הַמִּשְׁכָּֽן׃ Moses could not enter the Tent of Meeting, because the cloud dwelled upon it and the Divine Presence filled the Sanctuary… .” - 40:35 When your Presence completely fills this moment, there is no more room for that separate “me” of ego – there is just Presence, in alignment with and in service of Reality as it is unfolding now. This is the most basic and first mitzvah; it is the original “fruitfulness” of creativity, mentioned before the “fruit” of the ego, the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. וַיְבָ֣רֶךְ אֹתָם֮ אֱלֹהִים֒ וַיֹּ֨אמֶר לָהֶ֜ם אֱלֹהִ֗ים פְּר֥וּ וּרְב֛וּ וּמִלְא֥וּ אֶת־הָאָ֖רֶץ וְכִבְשֻׁ֑הָ God blessed them and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, fill the earth and master/subdue it… - Bereisheet (Genesis) 1:28 פְּר֥וּ וּרְב֛וּ – Be fruitful and multiply… That is, be creative and express yourself, and to do that you must: וּמִלְא֥וּ אֶת־הָאָ֖רֶץ – fill the earth… That is, let your awareness “fill” the moment; don’t hold back or shrink away – alignment with Reality is the fertility of creativity. וְכִבְשֻׁ֑הָ – and master/subdue it… In some contexts, the root כבש kaf-bet-shin can have a militaristic connotation of ruling/subduing and even oppressing, but it can also mean “fermentation” – a כֶּבֶשׁ kevesh is a pickle! In other words, it is taking something that arises naturally in Reality, a cucumber for example, and acting upon it to create something new and delicious. This is the creative act – working with the gifts of creation to become co-creators, to become carvers, weavers, and embroiderers, to become cobblers, tailors, and bakers; this is the expression of purpose, work as sacred service; the Path of ה Hei.
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Parshah Summary – P’sha
The parshah opens with Moses assembling the Children of Israel (vayak’hel, “assembled”) and reviewing the mitzvah of Shabbat, followed by instructions for constructing the Mishkan (Tabernacle). The Israelites bring the materials for its construction in abundance: gold, silver and copper; blue, purple, and red-dyed wool; goat hair, spun linen, animal skins, wood, olive oil, herbs and precious stones. They actually bring too much, and Moses has to tell them to stop.
A team of “wise-hearted” (chochmat lev) artisans then build the Mishkan and its furnishings: three layers of roof coverings; 48 gold-plated wall panels, and 100 silver foundation sockets; the parokhet (veil) that separates between the Sanctuary’s two chambers, and the masakh (screen) at the front; the ark, and its cover with the angelic statues of the keruvim (“cherubim”); the table and the lekhem hapanim, (“showbread”); the seven-branched menorah with its specially prepared oil; the golden altar and the incense burned upon it; the anointing oil; the outdoor altar for burnt offerings and all its implements; the hangings, posts and foundation sockets for the courtyard; and the basin with its pedestal, made out of copper mirrors.
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
וַיָּבֹ֕אוּ כׇּל־אִ֖ישׁ אֲשֶׁר־נְשָׂא֣וֹ לִבּ֑וֹ וְכֹ֡ל אֲשֶׁר֩ נָדְבָ֨ה רוּח֜וֹ אֹת֗וֹ הֵ֠בִ֠יאוּ אֶת־תְּרוּמַ֨ת יְהֹוָ֜ה לִמְלֶ֨אכֶת אֹ֤הֶל מוֹעֵד֙ וּלְכׇל־עֲבֹ֣דָת֔וֹ וּלְבִגְדֵ֖י הַקֹּֽדֶשׁ׃ And everyone who’s hearts were elevated, and everyone whose spirit was moved came forth, bringing Divine offerings for the work of the Tent of Meeting, for all its ritual service, and for the sacral vestments… - Shemot (Exodus) 35:21, Parshat Vayak’hel
Once, while Rabbi Zev Wolf was sitting in his bedroom, he heard a strange noise. He cracked the door open slightly and peered out to see a thief filling his sack with valuables. Among the items he stole was a cup which had been used earlier in the evening by a guest who was sick. As the thief was about to leave, Reb Wolf leapt from his hiding spot and cried out: “Good sir! You can keep all the things you’ve taken, but beware! That last cup you took has the breath of a sick man within in it – I don’t want you to drink from it and become sick yourself!”
When we hear a story like this, we might be inclined to think of Reb Wolf as a super-human tzaddik, embodying an ideal out of reach for most of us, but this not so – we only need to know how to access our deeper spiritual potential. There is a hint in the collection of traditional prayers said before going to sleep: רִגְז֗וּ וְֽאַל־תֶּ֫חֱטָ֥אוּ אִמְר֣וּ בִ֭לְבַבְכֶם עַֽל־מִשְׁכַּבְכֶ֗ם וְדֹ֣מּוּ סֶֽלָה Tremble and sin no more, speak within your heart, upon your bed, and be silent, selah! - Psalm 4 The idea here is that, in the quiet moments before sleep, you bring yourself to a state of heightened reverence and resolve to turn from any negative behavior patterns. This is a simple but very powerful form of meditation – connecting with the silent depths of your being, and consciously intending to live from this depth in your daily life. Thus, within the prayers that would be said the next morning, we have the second half of the equation: לְמַ֤עַן יְזַמֶּרְךָ֣ כָ֭בוֹד וְלֹ֣א יִדֹּ֑ם יְהוָ֥ה אֱ֝לֹהַ֗י לְעוֹלָ֥ם אוֹדֶֽךָּ! So that my inner being will sing to You and NOT be silent; Hashem, my Divinity, constantly I will thank You! - Psalm 30 Taking these two verses together, we have a complete practice: first, awaken your potential in meditation, so that you can then express that potential outwardly in the sometimes noisy and chaotic world. But how can we express our deepest spiritual potential when we find ourselves in situations that trigger powerful emotions like anger or fear, as in the story? Perhaps Rabbi Zev Wolf was beyond such emotions. אִמְר֣וּ בִ֭לְבַבְכֶם... וְדֹ֣מּוּ – speak within your heart… and be silent… But consider: since he was hiding and not confronting the thief immediately, there would have been some space to be aware of his reactive emotions as they arose. יְזַמֶּרְךָ֣ כָ֭בוֹד וְלֹ֣א יִדֹּ֑ם – my inner being will sing to You and not be silent… Then, from the silent depths of that awareness that transcends all feelings and impulses, he was able to reflect and decide to do the opposite of those emotions, and express love rather than negativity – this is the power of meditation. There is a hint in this week’s reading: וַיָּבֹ֕אוּ כָּל־אִ֖ישׁ אֲשֶׁר־נְשָׂא֣וֹ לִבּ֑וֹ – And everyone who’s hearts were elevated came forth… Gifts were brought to build the Sanctuary by those whose hearts were inspired, or elevated, to bring them. But the words נְשָׂא֣וֹ לִבּ֑וֹ nisa’o libo, can also mean hearts were tested; the root for elevated and tested are the same. Meaning: when our hearts are tested – when we peer from our safety to see the thief coming for our things and we become enflamed with fear and anger – it is in precisely those moments that we can become truly elevated by choosing our path consciously rather than be taken over by whatever impulses are arising. Through our meeting of these tests, our ability to express our spiritual potential is strengthened, if we can rise to challenge. How do we do this? הֵ֠בִ֠יאוּ אֶת־תְּרוּמַ֨ת יְהֹוָ֜ה – bringing Divine offerings… Imagine that your words and actions are offerings to the Divine; what words and actions can you express that would reflect this intention? This type of contemplation is a simple, though not necessarily easy, way to transform every moment of life into spiritual practice. And when we fail, not to worry, there will be plenty more opportunities. As long as we are alive in these bodies, we can return, again and again, to the practice. May we strengthen our resolve to meet the tests that life gives us; may we draw upon our meditation to cultivate conscious and intentional self-expression amidst the noisiness of life – this is the Path of ה Hei, of conscious self-expression.
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