The Birth of Sensuality

What is more powerful: A strong touch or a soft one? A loud thud or a gentle song? A forceful shove or a delicate prod?

Is love experienced more though aggression or through tenderness?

Touch. Music. Beauty. Love. Every experience that stirs the heart and soul is actually a bridge between the sensory and the supra-sensory: A loving look, a harmonious melody, wine on the palate, a fragrant flower, a mother’s touch – they all stimulate a sense. But just like a sliding skate on ice or a strumming string on a fiddle, the stimulated sense opens a door to a place that is far beyond any tangible and describable experience. The more subtle, the more powerful.

In one word: Sensuality – where the senses meet that which is beyond the senses. A loving caress is indeed tangible; yet, simultaneously intangible. A touch that just glances the surface, but ignites an eruption of feelings.

Yet, sensuality has a complex history. For all its allure, it is not always associated with purity and innocence. Some even see it as antithetical to the spiritual. In fact, modern dictionaries translate “sensual” as “lacking in moral or spiritual interests; worldly,” “relating to or consisting in the gratification of the senses or the indulgence of appetite.”

Let us revisit the roots of sensuality.

*  *  *

Why did the Sinai experience, in this week’s Torah portion, have to be so dramatic and pronounced? “Mount Sinai was all in smoke because of the Presence that had come down on it. G-d was in the fire, and its smoke went up like the smoke of a lime kiln. The entire mountain trembled violently. There was the sound of a ram’s horn, increasing in volume to a great degree. Moses spoke, and G-d replied with a Voice” (Exodus 19:16-19).

It would seem that the profound spiritual event that was Sinai would be intimate and resonant, without needing to rely on a spectacular display of fireworks.

Indeed, the Midrash explains that the first tablets were broken due to the fact that they were accompanied with high-level fanfare. Thus the second tablets were given on Yom Kippur in silence. “Nothing is more beautiful,” the Midrash concludes, “than modesty.”

Yet, the purpose of Sinai was to permeate the sensory universe, and infuse our tangible existence with the Divine. Sinai was both a profoundly mystical experience and simultaneously an intense sensual experience – a multi-sensory event that stimulated all the human senses: thunder and lightning, the escalating shofar blast, smoke and trembling. While the senses were all engaged at Sinai, they also felt an intense awe of an experience beyond anything physical. Indeed, the people actually achieved a state of synesthesia: “All the people saw the sounds – they saw what is ordinarily heard, and they heard what is ordinarily seen” (20:15 and Mechilta on the verse). With all the dramatic sounds and sights – Sinai opened doors beyond the perceived senses, actually fusing them into one.

True and healthy sensuality was born.

How, then, did sensuality acquire its lewd reputation? Where did the pure and subtle nature of sensuality go awry?

Ahh, the answer to this question lies in the very nature of the sensory universe and how it clutches us in its hold. On our own, we tend to gravitate to the easier option of surface, superficial experiences. Without exerted effort sensory stimuli can seduce us to the point of completely overwhelming our beings. Witness the hypnotic power of television and film; the manipulative mechanics of packaging; how images, sounds, tastes, smells and touches are used to motivate and sell us products and services. If these senses carry superficial messages, their potent power can be used against us – assaulting our psyches, violating our inner space and distorting our perception of reality. Our senses can even become instruments of self destruction, leading to escapism, desensitization and addiction as our sensory immune system is lowered due to hyper-stimulation.

On the conscious level a deep rift can separate sense from spirit, no different than the ostensible divide between matter and energy. The Kabbalists explain, that due to Divine concealment (tzimtzum), we feel independent and separate from the inner forces that sustain us. The material senses can then “go off on their own,” divorced of their sublime connections. The soul of our senses, so to speak, can remain not only obscured, but completely hijacked, to the extent that the same sense of, say, unsubtle touch can so distract and overwhelm us, that it leads us away from realizing touch’s true potential. Instead of the sense being a catalyst that releases enormous power, it becomes a “candy” or “drug” that hold us tight in its tentacles of instant gratification; a “quick fix,” that always needs another one to follow. In place of our senses serving our intimate needs and opening up the softness of our spirits, selfish interests convert these same senses – like a sledge hammer being used to crack an egg – into tools of aggression. Imagine a mother forcefully yanking her child’s arm instead of delicately reaching for it. Instead of a gentle stroke, the same touch becomes a jolting punch.

Once in history the schism between sense and spirit was bridged. Sinai was this unprecedented event. 3329 years ago heaven and earth achieved fusion. Empowering us – till this day – to allow our own senses to reach the ethereal, and maintain the integration in our daily lives, in a sustainable and permanent fashion. At Sinai we received a blueprint for life (called the Torah) – like a life operators’ manual – which instructs us how to marry the Divine and the human.

Many people in our time connected to Hendrix’s lyric “ ‘scuse me while I kiss the sky.” Hendrix may have kissed the sky, but, tragically, did not return to tell about it. As did many of his contemporaries. Some returned, but did not offer us a workable system to merge the senses and transcendence.

Sinai teaches us just that. Want to find out how? Search out for a Torah class which focuses on the Torah’s relevance to our personal, emotional, psychological and spiritual lives.

*  *  *

What is a true touch?

What is a real kiss?

It is where heaven meets earth.

Where the sublime meets the secular.

Where our senses meet our spirits.

Where your body meets your soul.

Moses designated for them seven days of celebration and seven days of mourning – Jerusalem Talmud Ketubot 1:1. Rambam Laws of the Mourner 1:1. See Moed Koton 20a

Talk about surreal.

Last Thursday, just before midnight, an elderly woman passed away, a few minutes after the seven blessings were said concluding the wedding of her grandson, the son of her youngest child.

That woman was my maternal grandmother, Teibel Lipskier, and her youngest son is my uncle Shmuel, who married off his son Menachem.

And so began a very rare occurrence – two cycles at once: As Shmuel’s family celebrated sheva brochos, the traditional seven days of rejoicing following a wedding, Shmuel and his siblings (including my mother) were sitting shiva, the traditional seven days of mourning.

Every night I would watch how Shmuel’s wife Chanie in festive dress would return from another sheva brochos party to console her husband wearing the rent garments of a mourner…

Do you smile or do you cry?

Both the shiva and the sheva brochos concluded simultaneously today, Thursday.

To make things even more surreal: This Sunday will be the wedding of my daughter Rashi – great granddaughter of my Bubbe Teibel. Immediately following – exactly one day after – my mother and her siblings rose from shiva for my grandmother, we will seamlessly begin celebrating her great granddaughter’s wedding, beginning with the Shabbat oifruf (calling up the groom to the Torah) and kiddush followed by the actual wedding ceremony!

How often do we experience life, death and life so intertwined? A wedding, followed by a funeral, shiva, sheva brochos, and as these two cycles of seven come to an end they are capped by yet another wedding.

It’s hard to untangle the intermingling emotions that we are all experiencing. But experience we must, as we forge ahead.

This confluence of extremes brings to glaring focus the statement in the Jerusalem Talmud, cited by Maimonides: Moses designated for them seven days of celebration and seven days of mourning. This week Moses’ designation of two cycles of seven came alive for our family in ways I would never have imagined.

It also brings to mind the obvious question: Why would Moses link these two diametric opposites – death and marriage – in the first place? When we celebrate, allow us to celebrate in peace; why remind us of death? Isn’t there enough pain in the world as it is? So when we have some respite and finally have the opportunity to celebrate, do we really need to be reminded of grief? And when we grieve, why the need to confuse us with joy?

Yet, Moses did connect them both – teaching us that these two dimensions are really one: both part of the mysterious cycle of life and death that defines the journey of the soul as it travels through different stages. Dancing and mourning are two chapters of one book.

Indeed, at the conclusion of the chupa, wedding ceremony – the height of joy – we break a glass, to remind us of the broken world in which we live; the split between the Divine and the material that resulted from the destruction of the holy Temple.

Whether it makes sense or not, I can testify to the convergence of death and life which our family experienced in the last seven days. To see hundreds – no exaggeration – of grandchildren and great grandchildren streaming into my grandmother’s house was the ultimate celebration of life, not death. All these offspring are wonderful, productive people, each touching thousands of lives. And they all originate from this one woman and her late husband who preceded her passing 23 years ago.

No wonder, therefore, that my grandmother’s soul waited till the end of the wedding celebration of her grandchild, to allow the marriage to take hold, before beginning the next leg of her journey, which her children subsequently honored with the seven days of shiva. Only to lead into yet another wedding – of her great grandchild: my daughter Rashi.

I can imagine my Bubbe’s soul traveling rising upward, flanked by her grandson’s wedding on one side and her great granddaughter’s wedding on the other – in a glorious  journey that transcends life and death – a journey toward  immortality.

Here is where death meets its match – where death meets life – and we see who prevails.

Initially, my grandmother’s death seemed to have conquered the celebration of the marriage banquet, as in (tragically fulfilling) the verse “I will turn your feasts into mourning” (Amos 8:10). But with the sheva brochos countering the shiva – the seven days of feasting defying the seven days of mourning, only to be followed by another wedding and sheva brochos – it became clear that it was the other way around: “You have turned my mourning into dancing (Pslams 30:12), and “then will the maiden rejoice in the dance, young men and old alike; I will turn their mourning into joy, and will comfort them, and make them rejoice after their sorrow” (Jeremiah 31:13).

The Talmud derives from the above verse in Amos that just as “your feasts are seven days so too is your mourning seven days” (Moed Katan 20a). Indeed Moses designated for them seven days of celebration and seven days of mourning. Ostensibly, this can be interpreted to mean that in our celebration we must always be humbly cognizant of our mortality. But, on a deeper level, it also means that our seven days of celebration counteract – and transform – the seven days of grief into joy.

Many thoughtful cynics argue that despite all our accomplishments in life, at the end of it all, death – almighty death – vanquishes life.

This week I have seen how life triumphs over death.

Four Prototypes

The Torah reading in Parshat Mishpatim is the basis of the most fundamental principles of civil law till this very day: Liability, damages, personal injury, criminal, labor relations and financial transactions.

Beyond the astounding insights in the laws of liability, lies another dimension of relevance within these laws: Their personal application.

Based on several verses in this week’s portion (Exodus 21-22), the Talmudic tractate Baba Kama, outlines “four prototypes of damages – the animal, the pit, the destroyer and the fire.”

On a basic level, surface level, these prototypes are the primary categories of torts, intentional or negligent acts which injure another person. But the soul of these categories defines four prototypes of psychological, emotional and spiritual abuse, each with many derivatives:

1.       Active, indiscriminate aggression – “the ox.”

2.       Negligence; Passive aggression – “the pit.”

3.       Excessive indulgence – “the destroyer.”

4.       Anger and other destructive forces – “the fire.”

Active, indiscriminate aggression – “the ox”

Selfish behavior, in which a person serves his own needs, “trampling” on everything in his path – insensitive to the fact that he may be hurting others in the process. Like a beast in the wild, he moves about serving himself without regard of others’ boundaries and needs. Choices are driven primarily by his own emotional needs, including the tendency to blindly and indiscriminately follow his own wiles and desires.

Negligence; Passive aggression – “the pit”

In contrast to active aggression, abuse can also come in the form of passivity. A parent that remains silent while the other parent is hurting their child is an accomplice to the crime. Abuse doesn’t always mean that the abuser did an act; it can also manifest in the lack of action. Like the passive damage caused by the negligence of leaving a pit uncovered, allowing an innocent passerby.

Excessive indulgence – “the destroyer”

Abuse driven by personal pleasure. The other three forms of abuse, selfishness, passivity and anger, are not necessarily motivated by the abuser’s personal gratification.

Anger and other destructive forces – “the fire”

Anger, shame and other destructive forces in the psyche can drive a person to hurt others.

All four methods cause damage, yet each has its own particular characteristics, thus the need to enumerate them all. The first and third category (the ox and destroyer) are animated forces, while the fourth (fire) is inanimate. The second (pit) is stationary, as opposed to the other three which are moveable.

There are two opinions in the Talmud regarding the meaning of the term used for the third category of damage (maveh). Rav holds, that it means a person causing damage. According to Shmuel, it means a grazing animal (and the category of “Ox” includes strictly a trampling animal). According to this opinion, the “four principle categories” are only categories of damages done by a person’s possessions, i.e. faculties, not by a person himself. The abusive person himself – the source of all the destruction – deserves his own classification.

But according to both opinions, this third category is driven by self-gratification, and as such, it is called the “destroyer” being the worst form of abuse: The first opinion sees it as pleasure of the heart, pleasure that consumes the entire person, while the latter opinion narrows it down to pleasure of the “tooth,” a “biting” form of abuse which “obstructs speech,” i.e. impedes the Divine transmission (as explained by the Arizal in this week’s portion). In psychological terms, this relates to the delectable delights of the palate (Sefer Hasichos 5701 p. 64).

What are the consequences of these four root forms of abuse?

When an ox causes damage with its tooth or foot in public domain, its owner is not held responsible, since it is expected to graze and walk around, and people should therefore be careful about leaving their things about in a public domain. If, however, the ox roams into someone’s premises other than its owner’s and there causes damage, its owner is liable for the full value of the damage caused. In contrast, if an ox causes damage in the public or private domain by goring with its horn, its owner is liable for half the value of the damage done. Since we do not expect an ox to gore unprovoked, the owner cannot be held fully responsible no matter where it causes damage.

The psychological application of this law is profound: Certain standards that are acceptable in the pubic domain are destructive in the private domain. The environment in the marketplace is one of competition, negotiation and deal making. In a climate of self-interest and distrust, the business world expects and requires us to be at times tough, as we “graze” and establish our “turf.” In the material world we need to use our “animal” tools to protect our interests. Everyone follows these universal rules, and as long as they are moral and just (masa u’matan b’emunah), behaving this way cannot be considered damaging, even if someone may be hurt in the process of acceptable business practices.

This attitude is quite acceptable in the public domain. But in the private domain, this same aggressive attitude is damaging and destructive. Our homes should not be polluted by the mechanics of the workplace.

Even in the pubic domain there are also limits to aggression. “Grazing,” feeding off legitimate profits and treading on the grounds is acceptable. Using one’s “horns” to gore and hurt others, however, is not. Furthermore: Even the acceptable standards of “grazing” must be done with deep discretion. If it causes someone hurt or damage the law states that once is free of responsibility. But if the damage persists, then the perpetrator is classified a “muod,” an aggressive one, and he is held responsible for the damages.

Much more can and should be said on this topic. Hopefully, the ideas here – based on the teachings of the Zohar, the Arizal and Chassidus – can serve as a springboard to do amore comprehensive study on the different “parent” forms of abuse, and all their derivatives. So that we can develop better interventions to heal our ailing world.

The point of understanding these fundamentals of abuse is, obviously, to serve as preventive medicine, and not allow these toxic forces to seep into our lives. And even if they tragically do, to take the right measures to remedy the situation.

May we be blessed, very soon, to reach the day when these issues will no longer plague the human race. Instead, we will apply their relevance to the never-ending quest of spiritual development into the infinite and beyond.

A Toast

— Part 26 and Conclusion of Samach-Vav —

Finally, after two and a half years, sixty-one discourses and over 500 pages, we celebrate  the centennial of the grand conclusion of Samach-Vav – the Rebbe Rashab’s tour de force delivered one century ago (September 1905 through January 1908). From the outset this column has been following along the flow of this comprehensive discourse, which lays out in elaborate detail the psychological and spiritual dynamics of existence, its Divine purpose and our role in the process.

And now, the final scene.

You are stranded on a dark lonely island called life. A weary traveler, on the road for so long, with threatening winds at your back, you have no clue where to find direction or refuge. Despite the intense desolation you sense a voice, hardly detectable, deep inside yourself. But you cannot make out its message. The struggle to survive at all costs controls your life. You spend your days scurrying for food and shelter; dodging shrewd predators and protecting yourself from harsh elements; making it day by day as you face the unknown.

Just as you are about to give up, you discover an ancient roadmap. Difficult and hard to read, the map highlights the pathways and avenues to help you navigate your way. It also offers you a methodology, instructing you how to develop tools and techniques to survive and thrive in this foreign place.

The roadmap and tools allow you to transcend the island’s loneliness. But the challenge is great: Will survival instincts control you, in a never-ending battle for “survival of the fittest,” pitting us one against another, focusing on – and begin distracted by – the means while forgetting the end? Or will you allow the roadmap and tools lift you to live a life driven by higher purpose, recognizing that all the islands material resources are fuel to reach a greater destination?

There is, in effect, a distinction between the roadmap and the tools. The roadmap offers us a bird’s eye from above, shedding light on the dark roads below. The tools, on the other hand, are crafted from the island’s actual resources, and thus transform the island from within, from the bottom up, transforming its raw materials into spiritual energy.

In other words, the tools transform the island; the roadmap directs the process. Like the architect’s blueprint, which directs the entire structure, yet the structure itself is made of crude materials, completely unlike the blueprint, which is a piece of paper.

Yet, even the roadmap is not easily accessible, especially on an island full of distractions and dangers. Exertion is necessary to study and scrutinize the map.

The plot further thickens: On this island you meet other lost souls. Some more lost than others. Many don’t even know or acknowledge the desolation and aimlessness. Others know really well.

And then there are the rare few souls who are never distracted by the island and its seductions. They are the souls that always have their sights on the purpose. These souls are the ones you want to meet in your journey – the ones that remind, cajole and motivate you to see beyond the trees; awake and inspire you to access the roadmap and its tools, so that you transform your wandering life into a meaningful, directional life.

As we roam the island it is indeed a great blessing to meet these souls that remind us of our mission and help us stay the course.

With map in hand, illuminating the dark paths and crevices of the island, you come to realize that you were sent to this isolated island with a mission: To refine your environment and transform this bleak and barren place into a beacon of light.

Only through the hard work of overcoming the challenges faced on the desolate island, and discovering direction and tools, do you realize your full potential and beyond. Transforming desolation into hope, darkness into light, generates an entire new level of experience and the fulfillment of the entire purpose of existence.

As time passes, your confidence builds, your methods are honed as you continue to refine your environment. Until the day comes when you reach your destination – and the island ceases to be a fearful place. Instead, it becomes a comfortable home, for you and others to live in peace and harmony, elevating all the islands in the universe and all of existence.

So we have here five components: You the traveler; the dark island where you find yourself; the illuminating roadmap; the tools; the destination. The interaction of these five elements creates a dynamic called life and all its achievements.

*  *  *

Some souls are like “sons,” spiritually aware of their mission and able to read the roadmap effortlessly and implement its tools seamlessly. Other souls are like “servants,” struggling to find their purpose, exerting themselves to understand the roadmap, and above all – fighting with the forces of darkness to excavate the hidden “sparks” within all matter.

Yet, also the “son” can become like a “servant,” when he exerts himself and delves into the deeper dimensions hidden within the oral interpretation of the roadmap. And even more so – through humility, the process of getting his ego-consciousness out of the way, dedicating himself not to the Torah’s wisdom alone, but to its power to allow in the higher state of unconsciousness and reach the ultimate truth.

Indeed, it is the Torah and the “son” souls, through their intimacy with the Divine, that transmit and reveal the power of the tools and of the “servant” souls to fight their battles in transforming the universe into a Divine home.

Thus, we have the elegant interplay of the traveler (soul) on the desolate island (universe), consulting the roadmap (Torah) that identifies the tools (mitzvoth) which transform the island into a Divine edifice. As well as the interaction between souls of different persuasions that help each other in this difficult journey – all finally join as one in the unfolding drama leading to the final destination – our rendezvous with G-d.

And so, this week we honor Samach-Vav’s conclusion one hundred years ago. We finally come to the end of the glorious journey that the Rebbe Rashab took us on one century ago, through the inner workings of the cosmos and the psyche, exposing the complex dynamics of existence and helping us fulfill our life’s purpose.

When the Rebbe Rashab completed Samach-Vav he instructed his son, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak, to bring [a bottle of] Benedictine and come see him. The Rebbe Rashab told his son: “I will share with you an episode. In 5638 (1878) when my father [the Rebbe Maharash] completed the hemshech [sequence of discourses titled] v’kocho he summoned me and instructed an aide to bring Tokayer wine. He told me to close the door and then said to me: ‘Come and let us celebrate you and I,’ and he spoke with me 1¾ hours on Chassidic subjects.”

As we now celebrate the centennial of Samach-Vav’s conclusion let us raise a cup to the Rebbe Rashab – and to all the Rebbes – and thank them for their priceless gift, providing us with a blueprint for life, relevant today just as then, if not more.

We assure you, Rebbe, that we will honor your life work; your ultimate salute to the dignity of the human spirit. We will not allow your great investment to be squandered. The countless hours you spent, pouring your soul, heart and mind into the 500+ pages of Samach-Vav will live on through our commitment to actualizing its teachings into our lives, and sharing them with all those we encounter.

May the completion of this epic journey mark the conclusion of our long odyssey on our lonely island, with the realization of the entire purpose of creation. In the concluding words of Samach-Vav: The revelation of the hidden Eden [a new unprecedented energy that expresses the innermost aspect of the Divine Essence], the ultimate revelation of the future redemption, when the ultimate purpose, rooted in the Essence, will be realized: the Divine desire to transform the lowest worlds into a Divine home.

L’chaim.

Darkness. Water. Light.

The parallels between the openings of the first two books of Torah are just too glaring to ignore.

Genesis – the first book of Torah – begins: G-d created heaven and earth, and the earth was chaotic and void, with darkness on the face of existence. But the Divine spirit hovered over the water’s surface. G-d said, ‘let there be light, and there was light.’”

Exodus – Torah’s second book – begins with the bitter enslavement of the Jewish people who descended to Egypt. With unprecedented ferocity darkness engulfs them. The Egyptians impose upon the Jews harsh labor and severe persecution intended to crush their spirits and break their bodies.

Despite the continuing intensification of the darkness, to the point that Pharaoh orders the massacre of all Jewish newborn males (“every boy who is born must be cast into the Nile”), a Divine spirit is born and hovers over the water: When Moses was born his mother “saw that he was good” – the entire house filled with light (Sotah 12a. Rashi).  After hiding him for three months from the Egyptians “she took a papyrus box, coated it with asphalt and pitch, placed the child in it and put it in the rushes near the bank of the Nile.”

The little child of light lay snugly in a basket hovering over the dark waters of the River Nile, idol of the Egyptians. Until Pharaoh’s daughter, of all people, draws him out of the water – thus naming him Moses (Moshe), because “I bore (mashe) him from the water.” This in turn set in motion all the events that would lead the luminescent Moses to bring light to the Jews in the Egyptian darkness, and ultimately redeem the people in full glory.

Both books of Genesis and Exodus describe the dark nature of existence and the power we have to face our challenges.

Existence by its very nature is a dark place. We begin our lives – as the Torah begins its first two books – experiencing the surface of existence, with its inner nature personality shrouded within. Finding our mission and direction in life does not come easily. Clarity must be earned. Everything real and true must be discovered. Accessing the goodness of man and the beauty of life requires sustained effort and commitment, without which human nature gravitates easily back to self-interest and all its inevitable vices. Even science today has come to the surprising recognition that “dark energy” and “dark matter” is the stuff that makes up the overwhelming majority of our universe (see It’s the Tzimtzum, Stupid).

But hovering above the dark waters is the spirit of G-d – the soul, crafted in the Divine Image. Each of us carries within a Moses-in-microcosm – a force of light floating above the waters. Waiting for us to set her free by fanning the pilot flame of the soul (“G-d’s flame is the soul of man”), allowing it to illuminate everything in its path.

The most powerful message you will ever hear and the greatest blessing you can ever receive is not that you will be immune to the threatening shadows of existence. Rather, that for every moment of gloom you carry within a more powerful force of light. With every disappointment and loss you receive a gift of radiance. Above every illness and tragedy hovers an indomitable spirit that can and will prevail.

As we begin a new solar year, with all the uncertainties that come with the future, we also begin a new book in the Torah, which offers us a wise and timeless lesson: Above all the dark waters of life hovers the Divine spirit, waiting. Waiting for us to ignite its flame and bring light into the world.

“Let there be light” is our mandate. The challenge presented to each of us is this: Will you be part of the darkness or will you be committed to bring light into the night?

— Samach-Vav Part 25 —

I have often been asked, as I was after last week’s column, why is it necessary to indulge in a complex and dense discussion on the nature of the soul? Isn’t life strenuous enough without further taxing our minds with esoteric ideas?

The answer, my friends, is because without our souls we are utterly lost. The basis of human dignity, the strength we need to make it through life’s difficulties, all originates in the soul we carry.

We live in a troublesome world. Distracted by the struggle for survival, often broken by life’s curve balls, our inner soul is our only recourse. The only way to truly discover peace, happiness and direction in life is to access your soul.

My son shared with me this week the following line: You were born an original. Don’t become a copy. Our originality, our indispensability and unique qualities, all derive from our souls. If that is not enough reason for discovering your soul, I don’t know what else one can say.

If nothing else, just being aware of your soul – and its majesty – lifts you and your soul up to great heights. Think of your soul like your child: Nothing worse can be done to a child than ignoring him or her. With so many demoralizing voices inundating us with the message of our own insignificance, the mere awareness of your soul can be a lifesaver.

And thus the gift of Samach-Vav – and other such discourses – which illuminate for us the nature and power of our souls. To appreciate yourself and your enormous potential it is critical to understand the powerful roots of your soul.

After explaining, last week, the great benefit achieved through the soul’s descent into a material universe, Samach-Vav now continues with an even more startling revelation: Not only is the soul’s root dormant power revealed in this world, but the soul actually goes through a metamorphosis and accesses an entirely new unprecedented dimension, which it did not contain earlier.

But before we can understand the meaning of this extraordinary accomplishment, let us first backtrack to Samach-Vav earlier analysis of the souls very nature.

The purpose of the soul’s descent into this material world – in effect, the mission of our lives – is to recognize and reveal the inherent unity in all of existence. In the words of the sages (cited in Samach-Vav): To transform the lowest of universes into a “Divine home.”

Since the human being’s mission is to fuse matter and spirit, the human itself is comprised of these two components: “G-d formed the human out of dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils a breath – a spirit – of life.”

The soul too, Samach-Vav explains, is comprised of these two dimensions, matter and spirit (in subtler form of course), which empower it to achieve the fusion in the world at large. “Souls originate in Divine thought,” declare our sages. Thought consists of two elements: The containers – letters – that express the thought; and the energy – the ideas – within the thought. The containers (letters) of thought are very closely connected to the thought’s energy and ideas. Thought in contrast to speech carries your innermost ideas and feelings. By contrast, letters of speech, and even more so written letters, are not as attached to the ideas they are conveying. Thought itself is rooted in the power of thought, which also contains both components, in an even subtler form.

Consider the difference between written and engraved letters. The written word is a separate entity from the material it is written on, like ink on parchment. The engraved word, on the other hand, is one with the stone (and made of the same material) upon which it is engraved.

This analogy explains how the letters of expression fuse with the ideas themselves. Samach-Vav, in its inimitable style, then dissects in meticulous detail, and retraces the steps of the souls evolution, explaining that the fusion of matter and spirit continues to intensify as we climb the ladder of the souls roots in Divine thought.

Engraved letters themselves break into two categories: They can be only partially engraved, causing some shadow, or they can be engraved through and through the stone, rendering them literally one with the stone itself. As we get closer to the source of all – the souls point of origin – the souls “matter” and “energy,” its substance and its spirit, literally join as one: The “containers” are indistinguishable from the “light,” as engraved letters are indistinguishable from the stone in which they are engraved.

The formula works like this: In the fusion of matter and spirit, the lower we go, the more they seem to separate, waiting for us to reunite them. The higher and deeper we travel the more the distinction between the two weakens, until they seem to merge into one. This is the nature and state of the soul in its highest source.

But this potent power – the fusion of matter and spirit in the souls root – is unleashed, paradoxically, only when the soul descends to earth, in a pluralistic universe, where matter and spirit are perceived as a duality.

A soul is a piece of the Divine, originating in G-d’s innermost thought, empowered to spiritualize the material universe. Such a radical jump – to tear a soul away from a most sublime environment and throw it into a hostile universe – requires a powerful Divine force, which thrusts the soul into this world. This is the meaning of the verse G-d “breathed into his nostrils a spirit/breath of life.” The Hebrew word for “breathed” is “vayipach,” which actually means “blew,” as in blowing breaths into someone’s mouth. Says the Zohar (cited in Tanya ch. 2): “He who blows, blows from within him,” “that is to say, from his inwardness and his innermost being. For it is of his inward and innermost vitality that a man emits through blowing with force.” Thus the soul’s highest power in its Divine origin is revealed only when it enters a body in the material universe, which requires Divine intense “force.”

And this “innermost” breath from the Divine depths vested in our souls, in turn, empowers us with the enormous force necessary to subdue the seductive woos of material pleasures, and harness them into vehicles for spiritual expression. This challenge – and the power vested in the soul to make this quantum leap – allows the soul to truly fly (as discussed in last week’s entry).

But then something even greater happens: The soul – and every aspect of its substance (containers) becomes one with the essential Divine light and energy. Total fusion of spirit and matter are achieved!

Make no mistake: This is nothing less than an unprecedented soul experience. Being an independent entity, the soul, even in its source in the highest planes of the Divine, is still rooted in “letters” and “containers;” albeit, ones that are inseparable from the “energy,” but “containers” nonetheless. Through the soul’s descent and hard exertion in transforming a pluralistic and hostile universe, the soul rises from the level of the “container” to the level of pure light; from the state of “pure” (“the soul you have given me is pure”) to the state of sanctity (kodosh).

These two achievements of the soul’s descent to earth are consistent with the purpose of existence in general. As you may recall, that the purpose is twofold: 1) To reveal within the parameters of our universe the Divine light that hitherto was concealed. 2) By transforming the material world into a Divine home, we draw down new unprecedented energy, “there will be a revelation of light that is greater than the light that was there before… And these lights are of the innermost aspect and essence of the Infinite Light, which are even higher than the light that filled the “space” before the tzimtzum. So too, with the soul that directs this effort: In addition to revealing its potency, the soul elevates to a place higher than its original source – it accesses the hidden essence and metamorphisizes into pure light, which becomes one with its Source.

The bottom line is that the Rebbe Rashab, one century ago, illuminated for us the astonishing power that we have to change our lives, the lives of our families and the world in which we live.

Your soul contains unimaginable strength, waiting to be released – by you.

If all this may sound too difficult, all you have to remember is this:

You were born an original. Don’t become a copy.

What Is Your Soul Capable Of?

— Samach-Vav Part 24 —

100 years ago this week the Rebbe Rashab (Rabbi Sholom Dovber – 1860-1920) began delivering the final five discourses that would conclude his 61-part tour de force – Samach-Vav.

Samach-Vav, a 547-page tome, broken down into a sequence of 61 individual discourses, is considered to be the most fundamental series of mystical – Kabbalistic/Chassidic – work ever composed, laying out in comprehensive detail the dynamics of existence. It thoroughly dissects the anatomy of the cosmos and the psyche, and presents us with a psycho-spiritual blueprint on life.

Beginning in the autumn of 1905 (Rosh Hashana 5666), through the autumn of 1906 (Vayeira 5667), the first 48 discourses were delivered in consecutive weeks with few breaks. The Rebbe and his family then traveled and remained in Wurzberg, Bavaria (Germany) for six months (where he actually wrote discourses 38-48 which he delivered earlier), and upon his return home, in the spring of 1907, he resumed the series. Seven discourses – 49-56 – were delivered that Spring in consecutive weeks from Parshat Tazria-Metzora through Shavuot and Parshat Nasso. The series took one final break during the Summer of 1907, and then, a century ago this week, in the winter of 1907, Parshat Vayigash, the Rebbe resumed and concluded the series with the last four discourses (Vayigash, Vayechi, Shemos, Vaeira), followed by the final conclusive discourse presented only in writing (not spoken).

[It should be noted that during these breaks the Rebbe said/wrote other discourses].

To celebrate the centennial of the grand treatise “Samach-Vav,” this column has been following the progression of the Samach-Vav series, with analysis and discussion of some of its major themes, with particular focus on its relevance to our lives today (click here for the previous installments of the series and for a running summary of all the discourses). We now continue with the final discourses, beginning with this week’s, which starts with the words of this week’s Torah portion, Vayigash ailov Yehuda, and Judah approached him.

This weeks’ discourse, which continues the theme discussed in the past seven discourses, about the nature of the soul, describes in eloquent detail the power each of our souls contain as it struggles in the material world.

In one of the most moving accounts you will ever read, this week’s Torah portion describes the reunion of Joseph and his brothers 22 years after they sold him to slavery and had no idea what became of him.

But, as it is with most happy endings, the story does not lack in drama or tragedy.

Due to the great famine at the time, Joseph’s brothers come down to Egypt to purchase grain. Little do they know what is in store for them. Joseph, by then viceroy of Egypt, recognizes them, though they do not recognize him. In a long series of events, Joseph forces them to bring back his younger brother Benjamin. Left with no choice Jacob begrudgingly agrees, but only on condition that Judah guarantees Benjamin’s safety. Joseph then conspires to abduct Benjamin.

Enter this week’s chapter: And Judah confronted Joseph, pleading with him to release Benjamin and take Judah in his place. As Joseph hears Judah’s pleas, he finally can no longer control himself, and he reveals his identity to his brothers.

This week’s Samach-Vav discourse concerns itself with the deeper meaning of Judah and Joseph’s confrontation, and specifically over Benjamin. Why did Joseph go to such lengths to have Benjamin be with him? And why did Judah feel it so important to keep Benjamin, to the extent that “the lad cannot leave his father. If he left him, his father would die”? Why was Benjamin different than the other brothers – that only he could not leave his father, but the others can? True, Jacob specifically stated that Benjamin was his remaining son with Rachel (as Judah shared with Joseph), but that only rephrases the question: Why were the children of Rachel preferred over the other children?

Which brings us back to the beginning of the story: Why did Jacob “love Joseph more than any of his other sons” in the first place?

Explains the Rebbe Rashab, that Joseph, Judah (representing the other brothers) and Benjamin are three spiritual archetypes – all necessary in the soul’s difficult journey through life.

To understand this let us go on a trip, retracing the soul’s footsteps to its point of origin, and then its’ arduous descent into a physical body in our material world. As we pray each morning: “The soul which You have given me is pure, You have created it, You have shaped it, You have breathed it into me, And You protect it within me.”

“The soul which You have given me is pure” – the soul is in essence a pure entity, originating in what is called the “world” of Atzilus, a seamless spiritual environment. Then it travels through the three worlds of Biy”a (Beriah, Yetzirah, Asiya), where the Divine is more concealed, and transcendence is not a given – “You have created it (Beriah), You have shaped it (Yetzirah), You have breathed it into me (Asiya).” And then it manifests into a body, where “You protect it within me.”

In one of the most moving accounts you will ever read – befitting the moving theme of this week’s Torah portion – the Rebbe Rashab describes in intimate detail the souls’ traumatic descent from the loftiest spiritual heights to the depths of our empty corrupt world. Reading the Rebbe Rashab’s words you literally can feel the deep anguish of the soul’s difficult descent “from the greatest heights to the lowest depths” (“m’igra rama l’bira amikta”) – a description possible only by someone who has personally experienced the agony of the soul’s limitations in this world in contrast to its freedom above.

Listen to this:

“The soul’s descent into a body is indeed very profound. Before the soul descends below, when the soul is above, in its lofty state, it soars on the wings of love and awe – the soul in a constant state of movement: It is filled with an intimate yearning and desire to be engulfed in its source; and also filled with a deep sense of awe and distance from the great revelations it experiences.

“This dual tug of tension and resolution (rotzo and shuv) propels the soul, elevating it in perpetual motion to great heights, like a bird flapping its wings back and forth, up and down, lifting the bird to soar.”

Imagine yourself like a bird always able to soar above, with wings that carry your soul to unprecedented heights. Instead of a sedentary couch potato, haunted by your psychological ghosts, grounded by pedestrian concerns and the struggle for survival. Imagine this contrast and you can begin to sense the extreme trauma a souls experiences when it has to descend from its sublime heights into the mundane depths of material existence.

“Once a soul descends below” its wings no longer consistently flutter. “Spiritual love and awe are not a constant state; they come and go. And even when they come, they do not have the same intensity as the love and awe of the unfettered soul.

“This is true even for the greatest of souls, like those of the Patriarchs who were unwavering ‘chariots,’ always attached to the Divine… Even the souls of Atzilus, the selfless souls compared to ‘sons’ who have access to the ‘most intimate chambers and secrets of their father’s home,’ even they undergo a fundamental constriction as their souls manifest in material bodies. How much more so is the descent of lower-level souls… and even more so with the ‘lowest’ souls that are dominated by materialism – all these souls undergo a dramatic plunge from their lofty roots.”

Despite the soul’s great descent – it is worth it. Because the soul discovers something in this world far superior than anything it would ever experience in its lofty heights. The value of the gain is so much greater than the pain that it makes it worth all the while to descend below where everything Divine is so deeply compromised!

The purpose of the soul’s descent is to overcome the spiritual darkness of the material universe, and actually reveal the Divine in all of existence – to transform the world into a “Divine home.” This requires our self-generated effort: The discipline to not be distracted and seduced by the delights and instant gratifications of material life; and the hard work of refining the mundane by extracting and redeeming the “spiritual sparks” within all matter, directing and elevating it to its true Divine purpose, ultimately creation total fusion of matter and spirit.

Only in this world of resistance is the souls true power revealed. To jump a relatively short distance or to lift a lighter load, does not require much strength. To jump long distances or lift heavy loads, deep exertion is necessary, reaching deeper within to access inner strengths that the person may not even have been aware of.

Souls above – basking in spirituality – are not challenged and therefore do not need to access the deepest dimensions of the souls root power. But in order for souls to enter earth’s atmosphere and survive; for them to grow in a spiritually hostile environment, these souls need to dig very deep to access hitherto unseen inner strengths, and generate unprecedented intensity and power.

What the soul achieves in this world is the ability to truly fly. In heaven the soul soars like a bird, but only in the same dimensions. Ultimately, all movement is limited to the heaven plane alone. On earth the soul can become a true flyer – with the ability to soar into other dimensions and even beyond heaven itself.

However, because the journey is so difficult, we were blessed to have different levels of souls in our midst, helping us along the way.

This is the inside story of Joseph, Judah and Benjamin. Each of them underwent the trauma of the soul’s descent, but in different measures with different goals:

Jacob (containing all the Patriarchs, including Abraham and Isaac) represents the pure soul of Atzilus – the soul that is in a constant state of transcendence, always embracing the Divine. “The Patriarchs are truly the Chariot,” a selfless vehicle to the Pilot, “all their days… do not cease for a single moment to bind their minds and souls to G-d” (Tanya chapter 34).

Joseph channels Atzilus unity (of Jacob) into the lower, divisive worlds of Biy”a, where transcendence is not a given.

Judah (representing the other tribes) embodies the soul as it manifests in the lower worlds of Biy”a, where the soul is challenged with the hard work to sublimate the “egocentric” personality of matter, discover the Divine and spiritualize the material world. Judah’s service, in effect, is one of elevation.

On a lower level, Judah (and the tribes) tells the story of most of the souls in existence, who struggle and slowly elevate their mundane lives from the bottom up. We begin our lives in a dark world, our mission in life concealed, our destinies unknown. The pursuit to make ends meet and other distractions dominate our lives. Our effort consists of gradually working our way up to finding deeper purpose, leading us from a life of aimlessness to a life of purpose, from a state of concealment to a state of revelation.

Because this work is so difficult, we are blessed with Joseph, who empowers us with strength to spiritualize the material and to reveal it in our lives. In contrast to Judah’s work from the bottom up, Joseph is the soul that draws down, from above to below, the Divine energy of Atzilus sustaining those below. “Joseph was the leader over the land, he rationed out food for all the people (Genesis 42:6). In today’s age – and throughout history – Joseph represents the souls in each generation who lead and inspire us, those that imbue us with strength and motivation to overcome life’s challenges and to integrate the sublime into the secular.

Joseph’s dream attests to this: “We were binding sheaves in the field, when my sheaf suddenly stood up firm. Your sheaves formed a circle around my sheaf, and bowed down to it.” All souls on earth are charged with the mission to “bind sheaves” – to gather the disparate and divisive forces in the “field” of our lives and “bind” them toward one spiritual end. But on our own we can only reach that far. Living in a harsh world we need help to transform our existence. Enter Joseph, a soul whose “sheaf suddenly stood up firm,” further elevating the sheaves. And “your sheaves formed a circle around my sheaf, and bowed down to it.” Once we exert ourselves in this effort, we are blessed with the power that helps us elevate and unite our “sheaves” in one circle, sublimating them to the unifying energy of Atzilus.

Jacob’s special love for Joseph was not at the expense of his other sons. Quite the contrary: It was in support of them. This love reflects the power Jacob – a pure soul of Atzilus – invests in Joseph, allowing him, in turn, to infuse the souls of the tribes, immersed in the material world with the ability to accomplish their calling.

Benjamin is somewhat of an interface between Joseph and Judah (and the other tribes). Called “Tzaddik tachton” in contrast to Joseph’s “Tzaddik elyon,” born in Israel, uninvolved in the selling of Joseph, full brother to Joseph, Benjamin is a soul who elevates the material from the bottom up (like the other tribes), but at the same time he also has part of Joseph’s (and Jacob’s) power in him (as brothers from Rachel).

Ultimately, the battle between Joseph and Judah is over Benjamin: Joseph wanted to elevate Benjamin to his own level in Atzilus, thereby also helping the tribes in their work. Judah, however, unaware he was speaking to Joseph and that Joseph was even alive in Egypt, let alone that he had maintained his spiritual integrity. He therefore insisted that Benjamin remain with them, because he carried Jacob’s power, “the lad cannot leave his father. If he left him, his father would die,” in order to help the tribes, in place of Joseph, with their work of elevating the Divine sparks.

Who was right – Joseph or Judah? Both. As the story continues, Joseph reveals his identity to his brothers, and they are reunited – Joseph, Benjamin, Judah and all the brothers, together with their father Jacob.

Finally, this week’s Samach-Vav tells us, that today Joseph reigns. In our present state we are in need for Joseph to reveal and empower our work in transforming the universe. But soon, very soon, when all that we have achieved will be revealed, Judah will rise to his befitting prominence, higher than Joseph, with the coming of Moshiach from the House of David (descending from Judah) – when all will see that the self-generated of the souls who descend and struggle with the greatest challenges of life are the ones that fulfill the ultimate purpose of existence and draw down the deepest dimensions of the Divine, and the very Divine Essence itself.

As we read in this week’s haftorah: “Thus says G-d: Behold, I am to take the stick of Joseph… and I will join with it the stick of Judah, and make them one stick, that they may be one in my hand… I will make them one nation… One king shall be king over them all. My servant David shall be king over them, and one shepherd shall be for them all” (Ezekiel 37:19-24).

But there is more to the story of the soul’s achievements in this world. To be discussed in the next installment of Samach-Vav.

Judaism is one thing with the Torah, and Torah too suffers from a stereotype: That it is a religious book for Jews.

In actuality, Judaism is not a religion. Nor is it a culture, a race, an ethnic group or a historical phenomenon. Judaism is a way of life and Torah is a universal blueprint for all life.

This does not negate the fact that the Torah addresses the specific role of Jews, as it addresses all aspects of existence. Like a true blueprint, the Torah lays out a plan for every detail of our multifarious universe. At Sinai the Divine mandate was delivered with a voice that rang across one end of the globe to the next, declaring a comprehensive roadmap for the entire human race and the entire world to achieve personal and global redemption.

Nowhere is this more apparent than in the holiday of Chanukah. The festival of Chanukah commemorates the victory that occurred over 2000 years ago when a small band of Jews, in the name of freedom from oppression and freedom of religion, battled the largest army in the world and were victorious. The essential theme of Chanukah, thus, could not be more universal: Freedom – celebrating the dominance of spirit over matter; the transformation of darkness into light; and the victory of the virtuous few over the corrupt majority.

And we celebrate this through light, by kindling a Menorah “at the door facing the outside” Chanukah is a public, not a private, holiday, with a prominent Menorah radiating into the dark street, illuminating the surroundings.

For this reason you may have noticed in recent years the public displays of Chanukah Menorahs illuminating communities worldwide – to illuminate the world, even its darkest corners, with the universal message of freedom.

There was a time when Chanukah’s message was not universally embraced. Indeed, the very founding of modern democracy, beginning with American and French Revolutions, is based on the Chanukah theme.

In 1789, just 218 years ago a group of revolutionaries, in opposition to the great world powers of that time, wrote the Bill of Rights in order to safeguard the basic individual freedoms of the human race – freedom of religion, speech and press. Religious persecution was the impetus for many to leave the shores of Europe for the New World so it is not surprising that the first amendment stressed the importance of freedom of religion. The Founding Fathers understood this to be central to all other liberties as it embodies the freedom to pursue your own belief system, your personal way of finding transcendence.

The message of Chanukah is as relevant today as it was two millenniums and two centuries ago. Every year we celebrate the power of freedom over oppression with the kindling of the Menorah, honoring the victory of light over darkness.

As the sun sets during these eight days (November 27-December 4), people around the world will light candles, each night adding a flame, until a total of eight flames illuminate the night. As we kindle the Chanukah lights, listen carefully to the flames and they will tell you a story, a story that will empower you to live a more profound meaningful life, enabling you to face every challenge and overcome difficulty. Sit near the flames and study them quietly.

Chanukah’s flames teach us many lessons – from the personal to the global, from the psychological to the theological. Look closely at the details of Chanukah – the Menorah, the history, the number of flames – and they reveal the deeper nature of our souls and of existence.

Here are some of their lessons.

Lit at sundown, as the shadows of night descend, the Menorah reminds us that the way to eliminate darkness – to rid the world of selfishness, negativity, hatred and greed – is to kindle the lights of knowledge, generosity, faith and love.

The Menorah is placed in the window (or doorpost) of one’s home or in a public place so that the light shines out into the street. This public display represents our responsibility to bring the light of freedom, morality and spirituality not only into our own homes, but also into the lives of others and into the world.

Just as a flame lights another without diminishing itself, so too by sharing yourself you become enhanced rather than diminished. Every day we must increase illumination of ourselves and our environment – each day adding another good deed, lighting an additional flame.

On a more personal level, a flame represents the soul of a person, the G-dliness that is inherent in each of us. Every person has an individual contribution to make, a unique way of illuminating the world. Chanukah celebrates the power of the soul reminding us that although there are 6 billion people in the world and many forces that de-personalize our lives, each flame, each soul, brings a special and distinctive light into the world.

“The flame of G-d is the soul of a human being,” says the Torah. As flames warm and illuminate their environment, so too you can use your soul to infuse life with warmth and light. Unlike all other physical entities that are drawn earthward, the dancing flames flicker upward defying gravity. Likewise your soul, not satisfied with mere physical comforts, aspires up toward something beyond.

Chanukah tells yet a deeper narrative, a tale that penetrates the darker shadows of our lives. The Menorah shines a tunnel back through time to the aftermath of a great victory in which a small band of Jews defeated the might of the Greek Empire. In amongst the debris of the desecrated Temple the Maccabees searched ceaselessly until they found a single sealed cruse of olive oil that miraculously burnt for eight days. When you are defiled, when your inner Temple has been desecrated and there is no oil to be found, you have the power to reach deeper inside and discover light. The soul always remains intact like a “pilot light.” When you light your Menorah under such difficult circumstances, creating light in the darkest moment, that light can never be extinguished. The light that has dealt with challenge, that has transformed pain into growth, is a light that transcends nature and transforms darkness into light.

This power to transform darkness must come from a place beyond the conventional. We therefore light eight candles, the mystical number of transcendence and infinity, one beyond the number seven that represents the natural cycle. There is a natural limit to all human endeavors, to all human knowledge. In order to pierce darkness with light, however, you can’t just rely on the natural, but need to reach a deeper resource which is the eighth dimension introduced by Chanukah – the power of transcendence that enables us to go beyond our natural limitations and transform darkness into light.

These elements of Chanukah – the eight flickering flames, the miracle of the oil, the light shining into the dark street – beckon us to connect to the power of our soul. Our soul rises like a flame toward that which transcends itself, not only repelling darkness as is the nature of all light, but transforming the darkness into light.

The festival of Chanukah calls us all to revolution, a revolution of light fought over centuries by all people seeking true freedom. The Festival entreats us to reclaim our most basic freedom, the freedom to rise above our subjective, limited perspective and reach for the above and beyond. As citizens of the world, it is our duty and privilege to add to the forces of light both at home and abroad in a steadily growing measure.

My daughter’s engagement has allowed me to appreciate, perhaps for the first time, the opening word and name of this week’s Torah portion: Toldos.

The Hebrew word “Toldos” is usually translated as generations, chronicles, descendants, children, offspring or progeny. That’s the Thesaurus or Google version. But, as is usually the case with Hebrew words, Toldos means much, much more. Toldos also includes results, outcomes and consequences

But above all Toldos means fruit, or perhaps more accurately: birthings. The root of Toldos (or tuldah in the singular) is “leidah,” birthing. Tuldah is the result, the outcome of a birthing. If leidah is the act of birthing, tuldah is its fruit.

The sages have a beautiful expression: “Toldoseihen shel tzaddikim – massim tovim.” The fruit (children) of righteous people are their good deeds.

Children as fruit adds a profound new dimension to the power of our offspring: They are not just our future and our heirs, implying an extension of ourselves. And if you really are self aware, you may wonder whether the greatest achievement in this world is more of you… Rather: children are your pass to eternity. Instead of them being your annex, they give you more than you give them: Fruit that will bear fruit forever and ever.

Children are your pass to eternity.

This may explain the reverse order for Judaism’s classic blessing: “Bon’ai, Chay’ai u’Mezon’ai,” children, life and sustenance. The Arizal (in this week’s portion) questions the order of these three blessings: The natural, chronological order is that first comes sustenance, then life and finally children. Why is the order reversed? The Arizal offers a mystical explanation (which is not in the scope of today’s discussion).

A pragmatic reason for beginning with children is because children are the highest and ultimate purpose of all our blessings. One may be blessed with sustenance, life and health, but those only last one lifetime. Toldos – whether in the shape of actual children, students or good deeds – live on forever. One fruit bearing another bearing yet another, ad infinitum.

And how does one achieve this? Say the sages: “Bon’ai, Chay’ai u’Mezon’ai lo b’zechuso talyeh eloh b’mazlo talyeh,” children, life and sustenance are dependent not on merit but on destiny (fortune?) (mazal). No doubt, that merit plays a role – zechus ovos (the merit of our parents: their efforts and sacrifices). But above all, humility in appreciating G-d’s blessings; that Toldos (and the other two gifts) are not up to you and your “merits.” They are gifts that are bestowed upon us.

It’s one thing understanding and talking about this intellectually. It’s quite another experiencing it.

No words can fully (or even partially) capture the sheer joy and inner ecstasy to see your child find her soulmate. It’s far greater than your own love and marriage. Why should that be? Of course, there is the pleasure of witnessing your child growing up, from cradle to blooming flower. Not just witnessing. All the years of effort, the challenges, the ups and the downs – all come flashing back at you, as you walk your daughter to her marriage.

But there is something more. Toldos is a taste of perpetuity, a piece of eternity – of a fruit that will perpetually bear fruit. That is simply awesome.

There is much pain in the world. When you have a reason to be joyous – cherish it.

And when it’s your child – ahh, what can you say?

Then, you begin to think about your own parents, and come to the realization that you too are a fruit of your father and mother. Suddenly you appreciate the smile and the joy of your own parents when they saw you find your happiness. And you so wish that your father (in my case) could be here with you.

Finally, it dawns upon you that Toldos didn’t begin today or yesterday. Your parents, those mortal beings that you rarely appreciate, are but fruit of the trees that preceded them.

As you step back – while moving forward – you become smaller as you become bigger, and are overcome by the overwhelming revelation that your parents, their parents and grandparents, going back generation before generation, all the way to Isaac and Rebecca, Abraham and Sarah and Adam and Eve, are all part of one unbroken chain of Toldos fruits. Like one tree that regenerates annually, bearing new fruit, all from the same tree, held fast by ancient roots, standing firm on a fatherly trunk, protected by motherly leaves.

May you all bear fruit and merit to see your fruit bear another generation, and another.