Ki Tissa: Suffering

March 9th, 2007

When I Wanted You Did Not

Today I attended a tragic funeral. All funerals are tragic, but some appear worse than others. Especially when a beautiful man, 61 years old, is killed by a drunken driver, leaving a grieving wife, ten children and countless relatives and friends traumatized.

Every tragic death reminds us (or should remind us) of all other senseless losses – and unbearable pain – beknownst or unbeknownst to us. How many broken hearts are crying around the world at this very moment? How do we respond to the millions of tears shed and the piercing screams echoing through the corridors of history?

The timeless question – why? why do terrible things happen to good people? – resurfaces its naked head in these timely moments of agony.

The death of an individual evokes the memory of all deaths from the beginning of time.

In difficult times like these, we have no where to turn but to the eternal strength we glean from those that faced the abyss before us.

None other than the great Moses confronts G-d with this greatest of challenges in this week’s Torah portion. Actually, the story begins earlier when Moses first “meets” G-d at the burning bush.

In perhaps the most dramatic episode in the entire Torah, this week’s portion recounts the intimate dialogue between Moses and G-d, as Moses implores the Almighty to forgive the Jewish people for their terrible sin of building and worshipping the Golden Calf.

As Moses attempts to elicit the Divine compassion, he asks G-d “I beg you, please show me Your Glory.” G-d rejects Moses with the memorable words: “You cannot see My face, for no man shall see Me and live” (Exodus 33:18;20).

A strange Talmud explains that G-d rejected Moses’ request because of an earlier event. When G-d appeared to Moses at the burning bush, Moses refused to look, as it says, “And Moses hid his face, for he feared to look upon G-d” (Exodus 3:6). “Now that you want to see My Face,” G-d said, “I am not willing to show it to you.” “When I wanted you didn’t want; now when you want, I don’t want.” (Berachot 7a).

The Midrash elaborates:

“Moses did not act accordingly by hiding his face. Had he not hidden his face G-d would have revealed to Moses what is above and what is below, what was and what will be in the future. Finally, when Moses did request to see the Divine face, G-d informed him that ‘no man shall see Me and live.’ When I wanted, you didn’t want, and now that you want, I don’t want” (Shemot Rabba 3:1. 45:5).

What is the meaning behind G-d’s bizarre reaction? It’s impossible to say that G-d was being “petty” and angrily getting even with Moses?! Either Moses deserved to see the Divine face or he didn’t deserve to see it? Why would it be dependent on Moses’ not wanting to see G-d’s face at the burning bush?

Indeed, a second opinion in the Talmud and Midrash holds that Moses was honoring G-d by not looking at His face, and he was subsequently rewarded for his respect.

Additionally, the verse de facto suggests that Moses could not see G-d’s face because of an objective reason – “no man can see the Divine face and live.” The Talmud is implying that had Moses chosen to look at G-d’s face in the burning bush he now would be able to see the Divine Face and live.

And finally, why indeed did Moses not want to look at G-d’s face in the burning bush? And now he suddenly developed a craving to do so?

Clearly, the burning bush and G-d’s face in the bush is a major event, which requires deeper examination.

Let’s read the verse closely:

“G-d’s angel appeared to [Moses] in the heart of a fire, in the middle of a thorn-bush. As he looked, [Moses] realized that the bush was burning, but was not being consumed. Moses said [to himself], ‘I must go over there and investigate this great phenomenon. Why doesn’t the bush burn?’ When G-d saw that [Moses] was going to investigate, He called to him from the middle of the bush.  ‘Moses, Moses!’ He said. ‘Yes,’ replied [Moses]. ‘Do not come any closer,’ said [G-d]. ‘Take your shoes off your feet. The place upon which you are standing is holy ground’… Moses hid his face, since he was afraid to look at the Divine. G-d said, ‘I have indeed seen the suffering of My people in Egypt. I have heard how they cry out because of what their slave-drivers [do], and I am aware of their pain. I have come down to rescue them from Egypt’s power. I will bring them out of that land, to a good, spacious land, to a land flowing with milk and honey” (Exodus 3:2-8).

G-d’s words from within the burning bush – “I have indeed seen the suffering of My people…I have heard how they cry out” – explains why G-d appeared, of all places, in a burning thorn-bush. Had G-d appeared in, say, a handsome fruit tree, Moses would have challenged G-d and asked: “It’s very nice that you appear in beauty, but do you also feel our human pain?! You want me to challenge the depraved Pharaoh and insist that he stop the genocide and release the enslaved Jews. But everyone will ask ‘where is G-d in all our suffering. Maybe G-d exists only in good times but not in bad ones. Perhaps you don’t have the power to confront evil’.”

To pre-empt these fundamental questions, G-d appeared in the lowly thorn-bush in order to demonstrate that “I am with you in your pain and suffering” (see Rashi. Tanchuma 14), and that there is no place devoid of the Divine (Mechilta. Shemot Rabba 1:9. Torat Shlomo on the verse).

And now, G-d wanted to show Moses the deeper mystery of good and evil, life and death – “what is above and what is below, what was and what will be.”

But Moses did not want to see G-d’s face in the Holocaust. He did not want to “understand” G-d’s “reasoning” for allowing the death of millions of innocent children. He wasn’t willing to face the ultimate paradox and “hear” Divine explanations for human suffering. “He feared to look upon G-d” when he saw the lives being consumed by the burning bush, even as the bush itself was not being consumed. Moses “hid his face” and just wanted to cry.

But then time passed and things changed. G-d lived up to His promise and delivered the Jews from the clutches of their Egyptian tormentors. G-d demonstrated that He indeed was together with the people in their suffering, and finally redeemed them through His chosen leader, Moses.

Things seemed to be going very well. Following the Exodus, Moses led the Jewish nation to Sinai, where they experienced the greatest revelation in history: The giving of the Divine mandate to the human race. But then the tide turned again. While Moses was relishing in the Divine delights atop Sinai, the people below built and worshipped the Golden Calf. This time the catastrophe did not come at the hands of the Egyptians, but by fault of the Jews themselves.

Moses, descending from the mountain, realized the high stakes: How can he elicit G-d’s compassion in the face of such a grave crime? How can he offer the flawed human being hope after a great fall? Moses knew that now he needed to return to the “burning bush,” the place where good and evil meet, where joy and suffering converge – the place where the Divine can be found in the darkest corners of existence. He understood that only this impenetrable place contained the answer to solve the ultimate paradox: How to repent from sin; how to heal from wounds – how the “bush can burn and not be consumed” – the power of Teshuvah. [By breaking the tablets Moses also demonstrated how the break itself becomes part of the Divine healing process].

Moses marched back up the mountain to confront G-d. Moses had matured to a point where he was now ready to see G-d’s face. He now appreciated the need to enter into the inner sanctum, into the Divine mystery of human suffering, and wanted to “see” the Divine face in order to elicit the strength necessary to endure distress for generations to come.

Moses’ new level of awareness was made possible also by the fact that in the interim Moses had another experience on Sinai that empowered him with the ability to face death – an episode related to an additional, special chapter we read this Shabbat Parah. The Midrash explains that when G-d was teaching Moses the methods of purification from all forms of defilement, Moses was shocked “How can one be purified from the impurity of death?” “At that moment, Moses’ face turned pale.” When they reached the section of the red heifer (read this week), G-d said to Moses: “Now I will give you the answer,” and proceeded with the mitzvah of purification from the impurity of death. What Moses exactly learned was elaborated upon in a previous column, but we know from this that Moses had achieved a heightened state of awareness about the mysteries of life and death.

So at this point, recognizing the need to heal from the “death” brought upon by the Golden Calf, Moses implored of G-d “I beg you, show me Your face.” As the Talmud explains that Moses was plagued by the timeless question why the good suffer and the wicked prosper (Berachot ibid).

And here G-d revealed to Moses one of the most profound secrets of all:

“I show you My face not in pleasure, but in the burning bush – in pain and suffering. I show you My face not when you want to see it, but when I want you to see it.”

“When I wanted you didn’t want; now when you want, I don’t want.” G-d was not “getting even” with Moses; He was baring His Essence and telling Moses “I want a partner. I cannot show you my face if you do not partner with me. Had you looked at me when I wanted to show you My face, even though it was in pain, then you would have joined Me in the mysterious journey of grief and joy, and you would be able to see My face and gather strength. You cannot come and expect to see My face on your terms – when you like it. You have to respect the moment when I want to show it to you.”

But the story doesn’t end here. After all is said and done, G-d did indeed reveal to Moses the secrets of His inner personality, and the hidden thirteen attributes of Divine compassion. “I will make all My good pass before you, and reveal the Divine Name in your presence… [Though] you cannot see my face, because no man can see me and live, [but] I have a special place where you can stand on the rocky mountain. When My Glory passes by, I will place you in a crevice in the mountain, placing My hand over you until I pass by. I will then remove My hand and you will see My ‘back,’ and My face you will not see” (Exodus 33:19-23).

Moreover, commentaries explain that G-d finally showed Moses His face as well. The verse is to be read as follows: “You will see My ‘back’ and My face [but My face will be revealed to you only when] you will not see,” you will see my face only by not looking (see Panim Yafot on the verse). Not when you want to see it on your terms, but when I want you to see it…

… pause …

When we face unfathomable suffering, we are not expected to be better than Moses. We too close our eyes and just weep.

Maybe it takes a G-d to witness so much pain and be able to take it. We just want to be human… We don’t want to look at G-d’s face in such moments. It’s too terrifying.

Yet, whether we like it or not, G-d wants us to partner with Him. “Okay,” we say, “but it doesn’t come easy.” And from time to time, perhaps more often than not, we cry out in our own vulnerable moments – something G-d can surely forgive – that we just want some peace and quiet.

Today we were touched by the mystery of tragedy.

How many more bushes have to be burned before the Divine presence is revealed?

* * *

Tags: suffering, golden calf, burning bush, face, Ki Tiso, death, Moses
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Biblical, Shmot, Personal Life, Torah Personalities, Daily Life, Life Cycles, Pain & Suffering, Ki tissa, Moses | 6 Comments »

Terumah: Menorah

February 22nd, 2007

The Paradox of Existence

The Talmud tells us (1) that “Moses found three things difficult (2), until G-d showed them to him with His finger: Menorah, HaChodesh (the new Moon) and Sherotzim (creepers)” (3).

Moses’ difficulty with the new moon was discussed a few weeks ago in this column. The problem Moses had with the “creeps” (creeping creatures) will be addressed in a future column. Today we will focus on Moses’ troubles with the Menorah.

What disturbed Moses about the menorah, that he needed G-d to show it to him (as a menorah of fire (4))?

Commentaries explain (5) that the challenge of the Menorah was in the requirement that it had to be built out of one piece of pure gold (“miksha achas”). Despite its elaborate and intricate structure, all the Menorah’s components – its base, stem, decorative cups, spheres and flowers – had to be hammered out of a single piece of gold; all an integral part of a single gold Menorah (6). As Rashi explains: The Menorah was not to be made “of sections,” nor should “its branches and lamps be separate pieces that are connected afterward in the style of metal-workers which they call ‘solder’ in Old French. Rather, it should all come from a single piece. He (the craftsman) beats it with a mallet and cuts it with craftsman tools, separating the branches to either side… The craftsman draws the parts of the menorah out of the solid block of gold.”

How is it possible, Moses wondered, to build the complex Menorah out of a single piece of gold? (7). Thus, G-d showed him how to build the Menorah.

But this explanation is lacking. As difficult as a task the construction of the Menorah may have been, the intelligent Moses could have researched and consulted craftsmen who knew the art of sculpting gold. Moses surely understood that there were skilled individuals who could get the job done. Even if he needed some Divine guidance, why was he troubled to the extent that this is one of only three instances that G-d Himself had to intervene and point with His Divine finger to a Menorah made of fire?!

The mystics explain (8) that the Menorah – with its multi-faceted, ornate design, all carved out of one piece of gold – carries the “deep mystery” of Divine unity, an indivisible force that encompasses all the intricate details of existence.

What concerned Moses was a far deeper issue than the physical architecture of the Menorah; He was perplexed by the internal architecture of existence itself and its relationship with the Divine.

The entire Mishkan (Sanctuary) was a prototype of the spiritual infrastructure of the cosmos. “Build for me a Sanctuary and I will rest among you:” The Sanctuary channeled the Divine presence into our lives. All the configurations of the Mishkan and its vessels – were meant to align with the human psyche, which is a microcosm of the larger universe, with its Divine source. As such, Moses understood that like all the Temple’s vessels, the Menorah and its need to be shaped, with all its details, out of a single piece of gold, manifested a deep secret: the underlying unity embedded in all of existence.

When he heard that the Menorah, with all its complex design, was to be made out of one piece of gold, he was plagued with the paradox: How do you carve details out of an indivisible unit? How is it possible that the indivisible G-d should extend and be one with the complex diversity of existence? How can we ever bridge the inherent divide between these two diametrically opposed realities: The absolute infinite and undefined Divine with our finite and absolutely defined universe?

The consequences of this dilemma are far-reaching; its implications affecting every aspect of our lives.

As mortal creatures, dependent on a multitude of factors to survive, the argument can be made – as it has been driven time and again into our brains by nay-sayers, scientists and skeptics – that we are ultimately narcissistic parasites, feeding off the fat of the land and off of each other.

Even when we overcome some of our base survival instincts and act with virtue, we have severe limits as to how far we can reach as finite beings. We can maneuver here and there, but we always remain locked in a prison of restricted parameters, limited by a predetermined script – never truly able to transcend the margins of our fixed existence.

Materialism, by its very nature, is dead and inanimate – antithetical to spiritual vitality. How then can we ever expect to break out of our material confines; how can we even attempt to overcome the struggle between physical survival and transcendence; how can we hope to fuse spirit and matter?

Gold is a symbol of the mundane, self-oriented life, the symbol of selfishness and idolatry. How can gold be turned into a Menorah of light?

Not a very hopeful scenario…

As a result of this fundamental quandary – the paradox of uniting the Divine with the mundane – G-d Himself had to “point his finger” (a metaphor for the defined parameters of existence, like the narrow finger) – and show Moses a Menorah of fire (fire representing the uncontained nature of the Divine). G-d imparted to Moses the mystery of Divine Unity: How all the complex details of existence are an integral part and an extension of one single entity.

And with this, G-d revealed to Moses how the intricate detailed design of the Menorah contains the profound secret of life’s ultimate possibilities.

Moses was disturbed because one would think that in this selfish world, we would be driven by the modality of “survival of the fittest” to become plain parasites, selfishly using each other.

The Divine finger, however, points to another possibility: Behold – a Menorah of fire! You Moses, and all humans like you, can and must build and become Menorahs that emanate light and exude warmth to all with whom you come in contact.

I, G-d, give you My power to not suffice with being mere takers; you are to be givers. (9) Do not be satisified with being creatures; become creators that go out and transform the universe. Turn its raw materials into Divine fuel. Take the dark universe and make it a place of light. More: Make it a source of light – a Menorah.

Just as the Divine “finger” pointed from the Egyptian abyss at the new moon to show Moses the secret of birthing, that same finger now showed Moses the secret of illuminating and changing transforming the world around us.

The new moon gives us hope to survive; the Menorah gives us power to thrive and illuminate the universe

Yes indeed, we mortals of flesh and blood, consumed by a world of material gold, can transform ourselves and our gold into forces of change. We fragile creatures that are so dependent on outside sustenance (air, food, drink, sleep, shelter, protection) living in an insecure world, can become instead of parasites – walking, living Menorahs – that illuminate our surroundings with holy light.

*   *   *

This also explains the prominent role the Menorah and its flames play in Jewish life. Besides the Menorah in the Temple, which is showcased in the Torah more than all the other parts of the Sanctuary, we also have the Chanukah Menorah, the Shabbos candles and on the other extreme – the flames we light in memory of departed souls.

Indeed, light is a central theme in Torah, and today has become a vital component of understanding the nature of existence. In the last century physics has come to discover the critical role that light (energy) plays in the universe; it defines the essential nature of existence – something that the Torah has been teaching for millennia. Light, with its paradoxes, straddles the boundaries between wave and particle, and between existence and beyond-existence. Light, the fundamental metaphor used in Kabbalah for Divine energy,  is the ultimate bridge that unifies existence, and links it to the Divine, as discussed in earlier articles (see: The Physics of Chanukah, Light), Intimate Light)

But the journey of light – the Menorah’s secret of unity – began 3319 years ago, when the Divine finger showed Moses how to build an intricately designed Menorah out of a single piece of gold, and Moses was told to “carefully observe the pattern that you will be shown on the mountain and make [the menorah] in that manner (Exodus 25:40).

Ever since, we have the power of the Menorah to sanctify our lives. Throughout history, till this very day, the Menorah gave the human race the power to transcend their boundaries. Today too we can glean much from the Menorah.

All this power – in a five-foot-tall seven-branched golden candelabra, kindled every evening in the Sanctuary, which cast its sacred radiance to the outside world.

A Menorah that teaches us that our diversity need no be annihilated in the face of the Divine; it can and must be integrated as an inseparable part of the indivisible whole of the Divine.

That we can experience in our limited lives the highest levels of transcendence, reaching to places that are beyond any defined parameters of existence.

That our material lives, even our money and gold – symbols of self and often greed – can become fuel to emanate spiritual light.

That instead of being takers we become givers.

That we become living Menorahs illuminating our surroundings.

———–

(1) Menachot 29a. See also Mechilta Bo 12:2. Sifrei 8:4.

(2) A second opinion in the Talmud adds another item that Moses found difficult – the laws of Shechita (ritual slaughter). The Midrash adds Anointing Oil (Shemos Rabba 15:28). The Ramban and Bechaya (Numbers 8:2) cite a Midrash that includes Korbon (the High Priest offering – Leviticus 6:3) – thus the four items that Moses found difficult create the acronym for the word “mikshe:” Menorah, Korbon, Sherotzim, HaChodesh.

Moses was shown other items as well (though the expression that “he was troubled” is not used): The Holy Ark and the Shulchan (table) – together with the Menorah of fire (Menochot ibid). Shekel (Yerushalmi Shekolim 1:4) – see Tosfot Menachot ibid. Chulin 42a. Commentaries elaborate on the distinction between the things Moses was shown and those he was “troubled” by (Gur Aryeh; Divrei Dovid – Terumah 25:40). But see the Midrash (Tanchuma Terumah 9. Nosso 11. Bamidbar Rabba 12:3. Pesikta Rabsi ch 16): Three things caused Moses to tremble: The Mishkan, the Korbonot and the Shekel.

(3) Acronym of the name Moshe, Mem, Shin, Heh – Menorah, Shekel, HaChodesh (Zohar II Terumah 157b). The Zohar replaces Sherotzim with Shekel.

(4) Rashi Exodus 29:40.

(5) Maharsha Menachot ibid.

(6) Exodus 25:31; 36.

(7) “Mikshe” is also related to the word “koshe” – difficult (Sifrei; Tanchuma Yoshon Numbers; Ramban ibid). See Ohr HaTorah Behaalotcho p. 354.

(8) See Zohar II 157b. Ramban, Rekanti, Shaloh – Terumah ibid. Gur Aryeh Shemini 11:2.

(9) See Ohr HaTorah Behaalotcho p. 356.

* * *

Tags: Moses, Chanukah, unity, spiritual and material, menorah
Posted in Chanukah, Shmot, Months & Holidays, Kislev, Terumah | 6 Comments »

Fireworks

February 9th, 2007

Sinai’s Sounds and Lights: Suprasensory Senses

Do our senses help or impede our ability to experience reality?

Many schools of mysticism insist that to enter the sublime we need to shut down, or at least blunt, our senses. When you are overstimulated by the things you see, hear, taste, touch and smell, you become distracted from your inner voice. By closing your eyes (as we do when we recite the Shema) and quieting down the other senses, you can meditate and concentrate on the soul within yourself and others.

Witness how our level of focus is diminished when we are distracted by our ringing cell phones and buzzing blackberries. Just the other day, I was sitting in a meeting and could not believe how people throughout were busy peeking at their various gadgets. Besides the disrespect, how in heaven could anybody truly apply the necessary attention to the issues at hand? How would we feel if a surgeon operating on our loved one was e-mailing his dinners plans while holding a scalpel in his other hand?! (Obviously, a pedestrian office meeting cannot be compared to surgery, but the point is still the same).

Thus, the case is made that in order to allow our souls to speak we need to subdue our senses. We need to escape the “rush hour” and quiet down our lives. Silence and serenity create a conducive environment for the soulful experience.

Some go a step further and assert that our senses actually distort true reality – the inner truth within. Sight, sound, smell, taste and touch are superficial tools that can only relate to and access superficial, external experiences. Intimacy requires intimate tools. Sublime experiences require sublime tools.

The naked eye, or even a microscope, cannot see sub-atomic particles, nor can it see love or pain. Basically, the level of our experience is in direct proportion to the tools we use.

In The Philosophy of Physical Science Sir Arthur Eddington offers an excellent analogy to explain phenomenon beyond the scope of our conventional measuring instruments:

“Let us suppose that an ichthyologist is exploring the life of the ocean. He casts a net into the water and brings up a fishy assortment. Surveying his catch, he proceeds in the usual manner of a scientist to systematize what it reveals. He arrives at” a generalization: “No sea-creature is less than two inches long.” This is “true of his catch, and he assumes tentatively that… [it] will remain true however often he repeats it.

”In applying this analogy, the catch stands for the body of knowledge which constitutes physical science, and the net for the sensory and intellectual equipment which we use in obtaining it. The casting of the net corresponds to observation; for knowledge which has not been or could not be obtained by observation is not admitted into physical science.

“An onlooker may object that the first generalization is wrong. “There are plenty of sea-creatures under two inches long, only your net is not adapted to catch them.” The ichthyologist dismisses this objection contemptuously. “Anything uncatchable by my net is ipso facto outside the scope of ichthyological knowledge.” In short, “what my net can’t catch isn’t fish.” Or – to translate the analogy – “If you are not simply guessing, you are claiming a knowledge of the physical universe discovered in some other way than by the methods of physical science, and admittedly unverifiable by such methods. You are a metaphysician. Bah!”

If our sensory tools are limited in perceiving the inner nature of the physical universe – from quantum mechanics to the human unconscious, from intangible subatomic particles to microscopic DNA and supra-nano cellular structures – how much more so is their inability to experience the metaphysical.

The mystics explain that to reach deeper states of consciousness we need to learn to get beyond our limited senses – which process experiences in linear fashion – and even beyond our natural logic. Indeed, some mystical systems use paradoxes and counterintuitive exercises (“what is the sound of one hand clapping?”) to access inner dimensions that transcend the limited nature of outer, external consciousness.

The Divine is experienced not through the senses but in silence. G-d was not in the wind, earthquake, or fire that Elijah saw on Mt. Horeb, but in the still, subtle voice (Kings 1 19:11-12).

Parallels have been drawn between the mystical experience and the experience of the quantum state in modern physics, where one also needs to use a new set of sublime tools, altogether different and even antithetical to the intuitive tools of our ordinary language which takes its images from our conventional senses and logical mechanisms.

All this establishes a very strong case against the senses helping us reach the inner world of spirituality: The senses are simply too inadequate and limited. Their obsession with the tangible actually creates an illusion that distracts us. It distorts the true nature of matter (on the microscopic level) and spirit, thus hampering our ability to achieve a higher state of consciousness.

But there is another side to the story.

These same senses very often allow us to experience the sublime. To look at a sight of beauty, to hear the exquisite sound of music, to smell the subtle fragrance of perfume, to taste the intricacies of a rich wine, to touch the soft skin of your beloved – all open us up to the sublime world we call sensuality, a very close sister to spirituality.

Certain sensual stimuli can evoke transcendental feelings and passions, accessing intimate levels of your emotions and soul.

So which one is it: Do our senses support or weaken our spiritual experiences?

This week’s Torah portion provides us with a revolutionary answer:

Here is the Bible’s description of the most momentous event in history – the revelation at Sinai:

“The third day arrived. There was thunder and lightning in the morning, with a heavy cloud on the mountain, and an extremely loud blast of a ram’s horn. The people in the camp trembled. Moses led the people out of the camp toward the Divine Presence. They stood transfixed at the foot of the mountain.

“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).

Sinia 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.

.Indeed, the people actually had an overstimulated sensory experience – a state of synesthesia:

“All the people saw the sounds, the flames, the blast of the ram’s horn, and the mountain smoking. The people trembled when they saw it, keeping their distance” (20:15). “They saw what is ordinarily heard, and they heard what is ordinarily seen” (Mechilta on the verse).

The ultimate Divine experience is not to escape our sensory earth and travel to heaven – indeed, the people were told to remain below and “be careful not to climb the mountain” (19:12; 21; 23-24) – but to integrate the suprasensory into the sensory.

The reason for this is fundamental: The cardinal principle of faith is Divine unity (G-d is One), which means that there is only one seamless reality that permeates all of existence – the innermost recesses of the soul as well as the outermost layers of surface existence – in heaven above and on the earth beneath (Deuteronomy 4:39). Thus, to state that truth can be experienced exclusively by transcending or ignoring our senses, questions the Divine unity connecting all dimensions of experience.

Reality is reality; it is real through and through, from the depths to the shallows. If reality can be experienced only by denying the sensory world, the Divine unity is fundamentally compromised, by stating that the Divine truth cannot be felt in our senses and superficial experiences.

Initially, left to our own faculties, our senses alone can distract us from our inner lives. The sensory stimulation of everyday life – not to mention our being inundated in every which way by marketers hawking their merchandise – is a constant reminder of the formidable forces consuming our lives which we must contend with. We therefore need moments of silence and spaces of solitude to access our soul’s inner journey. Too many extracurricular noises will drown out our ability to hear the subtle hum within.

Indeed, due to the fireworks at Sinai (the greatest “light and sound show” ever displayed), the people became overconfident and ended up worshiping the Golden Calf. Sometimes when you experience the Divine on your own terms – in ways that your sensory tools can relate to – you can become arrogant and feel invulnerable, and then fall from your high perch. Thus, the Second Tablets were given to Moses in the silence and awe of Yom Kippur.

But within sensual stimuli lie reminders – sparks – of Divine glory. Via our sensory experiences we can access profound heights of spirit, albeit with the limits that tangible experience imposes on the undefined passion of true intimacy.

The ultimate goal is to bridge both “worlds” – to express the unexpressable: To see the unseeable, hear the unhearable, smell the unsmellable, taste the untastable and touch the untouchable.

Sinia fused heaven and earth – the higher and the lower. As the Midrash explains: At Sinai “that which was above could now descend below, that which was below could now ascend above” – it fused matter and spirit, the suprasensory and the sensory, the invisible became visible, and the visible became invisible.

Sinai gave us the power to fuse our senses with that which is beyond all senses. To experience transcendence while we are immersed in the minutia of our sights and sounds.

How do we achieve this synthesis in our own lives? By spiritualizing our material investments and sublimating our sensory experiences. We have to see our external lives as a means, a stepping stone to achieve a higher sense of awareness and growth.

In every life experience we have two choices: To indulge in the experience and move on. Or top see it as a tool, a vehicle for an act of virtue or a deeper insight.

When we see a beautiful sight, for instance, we can either just take it in, be stimulated and there it ends. Or we can learn a lesson from the beauty that can help us understand the symmetry of life, the grand Divine design and our responsibility to bring beauty and balance into our lives and surroundings. The same with our other senses – sound, taste, touch and smell: They are not merely instruments for our entertainment and delight, but metaphors and vehicles to take us on an inner journey – where our senses meet that which is beyond the senses.

Each of the 613 mitzvoth tackles another aspect of our material and sensory lives (1), with the objective of refining each respective segment of our material world.

Ultimately, the simple mitzvah – an act of transforming the physical into fuel for virtue – creates the ultimate fireworks: The fusion of the suprasensory and the sensory.

Consider: The powerful sights and sounds of Sinai 3319 years ago changed the world forever.

Quite awesome.

We now have the ability to bridge the most tangible senses with the most intangible sublime.

Quite a gift.

How you and I act today affects us all. Now and forever.

Quite a responsibility.

——-
(1) Most mitzvoth are performed with one or more of the five senses. There are certain mitzvoth that relate specifically to one of the senses. For example – sight: looking at tzitzit. Sound: shofar. Taste: eating a sacred meal. Touch: semicha, grasping the etrog and the other three species. Smell: spices, incense.

* * *

Tags: Clouds, Colors, Earthquake, Lightning, Thunder, Mountain, Senses, Mt. Sinai, experience, miracles
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Soul & Mystical, Shmot, Nature, Yitro, Spiritual | 5 Comments »

Climb

December 1st, 2006

SOULGYM I MASTERCLASS
Live with Rabbi Simon Jacobson
The Secret to Greatness: Getting Out of Your Comfort Zone
Wednesday, December 4, @8:30pm
Live Stream | Podcast

Add to Calendar

Tags: ascent, Jacob's ladder, Inner Strength, challenge, enemies, fear, faith
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Bereishit, Biblical, Faith, Soul Gym, Beliefs & Concepts, Torah Personalities, Personal Life, Life Cycles, Vayeitzei, Torah, Emotions & Psychology, Jacob | 4 Comments »

Messenger or Matchmaker

November 17th, 2006

The Mission of Our Lives

Nothing can function without a specific mission and purpose. Every business or other type of venture must have a mission statement, defining its goals and objectives. Without purpose there is no focus or efficiency, no accountability or accomplishment.

Many if not most failures can be traced to a flawed point of departure: A mission which is vague, generic or unrealistic. Sometimes the fault lies in the tools, resources or execution. But very often the initial mission did not consider all the factors necessary for implementation. If, for instance, you set out on a mission to fly to Jupiter (unrealistic), or to create an artificially intelligent robot (vague), or to write a successful adventure novel (generic) – neglecting to spell out how you intend to succeed – such a mission is mortally defective and is bound to fail.

Why then are we surprised when our lives are not working? When we are not happy? When we feel anxious and fearful? When we wander about aimlessly and feel ineffective? If a business cannot function without a mission statement, how can we?

Nowhere is a mission more important than in our personal lives. Nothing is more critical than to know why you are here; the purpose of your existence; the mission of your life’s journey.

Armed with a sense of purpose, we feel we belong, we feel focused, driven and confident.

The first formal mission documented in the Torah is in this week’s Torah portion: Abraham sending his servant Eliezer on a mission to find a wife for his son Isaac.

Rabbi Schneur Zalman explains that Eliezer’s mission to join Isaac and Rebecca reflects the general mission of each of our lives: To fuse matter and spirit, body and soul into one seamless union.

Now the question is this: What type of messenger was Eliezer? Was he considered Abraham’s emissary (a shliach), selflessly and absolutely dedicated to the cause, as the Talmud states “shlucho shel odom ke’moso,” “a person’s messenger is [considered to be] like the person [the initial sender] himself,” merely an extension of the dispatcher. Or was Eliezer considered more like a “shadchan,” a matchmaker, who also has his own agenda and interests (see Tosafos Ketubot 7b).

These two options define two levels of commitment: 1) A hired gun, otherwise known as a “matchmaker,” who is paid for his services. His loyalty to his mission is commensurate to his compensation and personal gain. 2) A messenger who is completely dedicated to his mission, with no strings attached.

Similar to the difference between and employee and an employer: A paid worker will never be as dedicated as the boss. He will do his work faithfully during working hours, but then he returns to his own life. Unlike the owner whose thinks and dreams about his business not only “nine to five” but all day and night.

As a great Rebbe once said: A true soldier is a soldier even when he sleeps. He is always on duty. When you are completely dedicated to your mission then there is no room for any other agendas.

Therein lays perhaps the most important message in life.

Why are we here? Is it to serve yourself or to serve a higher cause? Sounds like a simple choice. But think again. Most of us may feel that we should serve a higher cause, but in reality we are usually fluctuating between following our own needs and self-interests, with a bout here and there of volunteer service or charity to a cause beyond ourselves. Some would argue that even our giving has selfish interests in mind. But why be negative? Let’s give people the benefit of the doubt, and allow them some forms of noble altruism. However, even in the best scenario, service to a cause greater than the self is usually intermingled, if not overtly outnumbered by the undercurrent of self-interest that drives so much of our life activities.

So, we have before us the usual two options: Will you serve yourself, or will you serve a higher cause? Most of us mix the two, with the former as the dominant force.

But upon further consideration, the two choices are actually more intricate. Even after accepting that your life is a mission to serve, you can either be like a matchmaker or a messenger.

[Of course, there is also the option (if you can call it that) to live without a deeper mission at all (or from time to time to dabble with the idea); to be neither matchmaker nor messenger, and exclusively serve yourself. With material success you can distract yourself and deceive yourself into thinking that you are “on top of it,” even while your soul flounders about, living from day to day, or making big plans that ultimately go nowhere. But that “life choice” deserves its own discussion. Here we are assuming the axiom of a life mission beyond material indulgence].

Says the Talmud: “I was created for no other reason than to serve my Master.”

This may be the most freeing commitment you will ever make: I am here to serve not myself but the Master – a cause greater than myself.

Think. If you were truly able to feel that way all the time, would there be anything to fear?

Why then are we driven to serve our own needs? Explain the mystics that it is because the “Master” has concealed His presence from us. Our own internal missions, etched into the very DNA of our souls, are obscured amidst the chaos of material existence. The superficial dominates over the real. We are consequentially driven by existential insecurity, fear or other survival instincts, which in turn feeds the “concealment” of our Divine connection and mission.

Part of the essential mission is this awareness and embracing the commitment to battle the concealment, and dedicate our lives to a higher cause.

“I was created for no other reason than to serve my Master.” The ultimate goal is to be like a messenger not like a matchmaker. A matchmaker is a dealmaker – bringing together two parties, and getting a cut for his efforts. He serves a purpose, and quite often serves a greater cause, but he ultimately remains an outsider, or at least reserves the right to “do his own thing.” He is donating his services, retaining his right to fulfill his self-interest needs. A messenger, by contrast, is completely dedicated to serve the mission, with no other agendas. He is completely committed.

Some are like surgeons and others are like pilots. What is the difference between them? When someone is in need of surgery, G-d forbid, he will be very cautious and search around for the best possible surgeon. Why? Because his life is at risk, and he wants to ensure that whoever is cutting him open is the most qualified expert in performing this particular surgery.

Why then is it that when the same person books an airline flight, with all the risks of air travel, he doesn’t go searching for the best pilot in the world? The answer is because the pilot is flying together with you on the airplane, and he is exposed to the same risk as the passenger. The surgeon, on the other hand, is not lying on the slab with the patient. If the surgery doesn’t go well, G-d forbid, the surgeon remains intact.

Matchmakers are like great surgeons. They can be excellent networkers and shrewd business administrators. But they are ultimately ‘outsiders,’ not in the ‘same boat’ with us. We will therefore search for the best surgeon. Messengers are like pilots – they may not always be the best, but they are in it with us. Our problem is their problem. Our celebration is their celebration.

As some non-profit leaders like to remind their donors: You may be a chicken that donates an egg from time to time, but the chicken remains intact. But I am like the cattle, whose very life is taken to serve a juicy steak. My life is on the line.

In truth, a messenger in essence is also a paradox: On one hand he must be an independent entity, with his own mind and heart. And at his own choosing he decides to dedicate himself to serve the mission of the sender, thus becoming his extension.

Actually, in the legal (halachik) analysis of a messenger, the dedication of the messenger consists of different levels: 1) “A person’s messenger is like the messenger himself” means that the actions of the messenger are considered an extension of the sender’s actions. 2) The power of his actions is like the sender’s. 3) The messenger himself, his entire being, is an extension of the sender.

The Tzemach Tzedek (1789-1866) would often travel to Petersburg, the capital of Czarist Russia, on matters pertaining to the betterment of Jewish life in Russia. Once, the Tzemach Tzedek was unable to attend an important meeting, and instead he sent one of his loyal Chassidim. Before embarking on his journey the Chassid asked the Tzemach Tzedek: “What do I do if I have a doubt how to resolve a particular issue?” The Tzemach Tzedek replied: “Follow your own thinking.”

Rabbi Shmuel, the Tzemach Tzedek’s youngest son, was present during this conversation. When he heard his father say “follow your own thinking” he thought to himself that the Chassid was “missing” some bittul (selflessness) in his dedication (hiskashrut) to the Rebbe. Hence, he has his “own thinking.”

Soon later, while sitting at the table with his family, everyone noticed a sudden change in the Tzemach Tzedek’s demeanor. The Rebbe was clearly sensing something. “Er mattert zich in Peterburg” (the Chassid is struggling with a particular dilemma in his dealings in Petersburg), said the Tzemach Tzedek. A few moments passed, and the Tzemach Tzedek smiled. “Gut, gut,” he said, “er hot mechaven geven” – good, good. He resolved the issue exactly as I would have.

Reb Shmuel finally understood that contrary to his initial thought, the Chassid was actually far more committed and connected to the Rebbe.

True dedication is not when you don’t have the independence to think on your own. That is called a puppet or a fool. Ultimate commitment is when an independent thinker chooses to dedicate himself to a cause greater than himself, to be a messenger of a truth higher than himself, and in effect, becomes an extension, a channel of that higher truth.

Eliezer servant of Abraham could have been a matchmaker. But he ends up being a messenger: completely dedicated to his master’s will to bring Rebecca and Isaac together, with no other agenda. As a result, Isaac and Rebecca build a life together – a life that would shape the future of the entire world. They would give birth to Jacob and Esau, and perpetuate the legacy of Abraham – laying the seeds for all the generations to follow till this very day.

So after all is said and done: Are you a matchmaker or a messenger?

* * *

Question for the week: How would you define the mission of your life?

Tags: Tzemach Tzedek, dedication, commitment, life's journey, messenger, Eliezer, purpose of existence, higher reality, Divine will, bittul
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Bereishit, Biblical, Alter Rebbe, Beliefs & Concepts, Torah Personalities, Free Choice, Personal Life, Modern, Chayei Sarah, Isaac, Rebecca, Torah, Emotions & Psychology, Pain & Suffering | 5 Comments »

Vayeirah: Nurturing

November 10th, 2006

— Samach-Vav Part 20 —

One hundred years ago this week the Rebbe Rashab, born 146 years ago this Shabbat (Cheshvan 20), delivered the 48^th discourse of his 61-part magnum opus, Samach-Vav. The Rebbe and his family then traveled and remained in Wurzberg, Bavaria (Germany), and the series of discourses would only resume six months later, in the spring of 1907.

Because of the upheaval that took place in the summer of 1906, the Rebbe Rashab was unable to continue writing the discourses he delivered during those weeks – namely the eleven discourses from number 38 till the current one, and he actually wrote them in Wurzberg.

This weeks’ discourse, which ties together the themes discussed all the way back to discourse number 12 – the power of self-generated effort – describes in eloquent detail the many ways we are nurtured in our road to success.

On the surface level the Torah tells the story of the first 26 generations from creation – events that transpired from the time of Adam and Eve, through Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, the twelve tribes, the Egyptian exile and exodus, Moses’ leadership, guiding the Jewish people’s forty year journey through the wilderness, concluding with their arriving at the eastern bank of the River Jordan.

But within the literal Biblical events lies a much deeper story: The Torah is a cosmic blueprint. Every Biblical character and episode is actually another piece of a complex spiritual roadmap, which describes the basic building blocks of existence, including our personal lives. All Torah personalities are archetypes of different traits that we all carry within ourselves.

For this reason we say in our evening prayer that Torah and mitzvoth are “our lives and the length of our days:” The Torah narrative is the story of our lives.

Simply put: Deciphering the Torah will reveal what makes you tick. No small feat.

The mystics explain that the spiritual DNA of existence breaks down to four “worlds,” each comprised of ten “sefirot,” which define the spectrum of all experience, cosmic and personal, global and individual, macrocosmic and microcosmic.

This week we read the story of Abraham which is essentially the story of love (the spiritual “sefirah” called chesed). The Bahir, one of the early Kabbalistic works, states that the emotional faculty of “chesed declares before G-d: Almighty, from the day that Abraham is on Earth I do not have to do my work because Abraham serves in my stead.”

Abraham, called G-d’s “beloved,” is love incarnate on earth. He embodies the faculty of love within existence and within each of our souls.

Abraham embodies the faculty of love within existence and within each of our souls.

Hence, Abraham turns away from G-d, in the opening of this week’s portion, to greet wandering nomads. Abraham and Sarah’s home (tent) is open to all, even strangers. Their life is dedicated to kindness – touching and illuminating all those that they come in contact with. Even when it comes to the wicked city of Sodom, Abraham does not rest and does all he can to try to prevent its destruction.

[Later, Isaac will personify the principle of gevurah – discipline, and Jacob – tiferet, compassion, and so each Biblical personality and event uncovers another aspect of the “map”.]

How fitting, then, that this week’s Samach-Vav discourse addresses the different ways we extend support to those we love.

Every effort, every achievement, regardless of how innovative, does not stand alone. Like a “midget that stands on the shoulders of a giant,” our successes are an accumulative result of our own efforts plus the strengths given to us by those that came before us – our parents, educators, friends and colleagues, all that supported and helped us get to this point.

There are many ways that we are lent a helping hand in our lives and many ways that we must extend our support to others. Samach-Vav enumerates a few of them.

We often don’t notice the “little” events that shape our entire lives, until it’s too late. Especially our earliest childhood experiences that take place in our most formative years.

Observe the way a child begins his/her development from the crib to crawling to walking on his own two feet. Though this may seem merely physiological – incomparable, say, to the emotional nurturing parents provide their children – in fact the way parents guide their children even in physical growth, like learning to walk, reflects much deeper emotional forces at work.

Which is why Chassidic teachings, always deeply rooted in the forces that shape our psyches, focuses on the analogy of a child being carried by his parent, a young child being supported to walk on his own.

Samach-Vav describes two stages in the process of a child’s development. A newborn cannot walk on its own. Even later, we may be able to get up but then we fall and cannot remain standing on our own. A healthy parent lifts up the child, carries and protects the child, like an eagle carrying its young on its wings. At this stage we clearly are dependent on our parents to lift us, to love us.

Then we reach an age we can stand on our feet, but we still need the support of a parent to prod us along. Earlier, a parent may be standing behind the child and actually grasping the child as he guides him along. The child’s feet do the actual walking, but his power to move forward is not his own, but his parent’s. To the child it appears as if he’s walking on his own, when indeed he is only able to do so because of the support behind him.

Then we reach the age when we can “walk on our own two feet.” The rest is history.

The ultimate purpose of life, as the Rebbe Rashab reminds us, is to create – to produce something new through our self-generated hard work. Not to suffice with the gifts of others or be satisfied with the wealth we inherit (see Raging Waters). Not to depend on support and crutches. “If I am not for myself who will be for me?”

But on the other hand, we must never forget how we got here. We are not self-made creatures. We can only innovate today because we were nurtured yesterday. “If I am only for myself what am I?”

We can only innovate today because we were nurtured yesterday.

[In the context of Samach-Vav: The soul of Atzilus (and the Kav in general), the son, nurtures the soul of biy”a, the servant, and allows it to feel comfortable and intimate with the Divine. But the ultimate innovation is acheived through the exertion and hard work of the servant to transform the universe into a Divine home].

What is so beautiful about a tree is that its strength is defined by its roots. The tree reaches up to heaven, branches out into the expanse, bears leaves, flowers or fruits, casts a beautiful shade, absorbs toxic carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and emits nourishing oxygen in return, its powerful trunk – all set in motion, made possible and determined by its early roots. A mere sapling, properly nurtured, bore us this magnificent tree.

Deep roots bear beautiful fruits. Roots that supply support and nutrients allow the tree to soar into the heights.

Every one of us began as children. First we need to be lifted. Then propped up. We then need to be supported. Finally we walk on our own.

In addition to appreciating our roots, an equally vital lesson this teaches us is our obligation to serve – to love, to nurture those that are entrusted to us.

A loving father bends slowly down. Gently, deliberately he lifts his child in his arms, places him on his shoulders and carries him. With that small act the father moves universes, changes the course of history – and shapes a tender life.

How many of us so needed to be lifted at times and there was no one there?…

Living in a narcissistic world, surrounded everywhere by self-interest, not to mention pettiness and frivolity, no words can describe how heartwarming are the words of a Rebbe written 100 years ago this week, reminding us that we are here to serve – to give, not to take.

Life is about giving.

Reading the words of the Rebbe Rashab – born 146 years ago this week – you cannot help but be deeply moved at his careful, meticulous description of a father carrying his child. He then goes on to describe the different ways a true teacher imparts wisdom to his student. It is not a mere academic exercise; but an act of love. The teacher – even “teacher” sounds quite hollow; better stated would probably be “nurturer” – the nurturing teacher imparts much more than ideas and facts. In his every word he ingrains methodology and wisdom that will help the student avoid mistakes and ultimately reach deeper truths on his own, even when the teacher is no longer at his side.

Like a true shepherd tending to his flock, a Rebbe – beginning from the first, Moses the ultimate shepherd himself – has a way of caring that simply doesn’t exist in our normal routines.

We are all children. At times we fall, in need of someone to lovingly lift us. At times we walk upright, not always sensing those that are supporting us along the way.

Yet, above all, the ultimate dignity of the human being is expressed when we walk on our own feet. When we initiate, our self-generated efforts reach into the deepest dimensions of the collective unconscious – into the very essence of the Divine mystery.

But we must always remember that it takes nurturing to allow dignity to emerge.

In the “small” act of a loving parent bending down to lift his or her child lays the secret of all existence.

We have many achievements under our belts. Some of us are moving millions – dollars or people. Others are busy creating mega-plans and mega-mergers, wheeling and dealing, so proud of our conquests.

Take a moment and lift a child. Pause a second and lend a helping hand to someone in need.

Care.

* * *

Question for the week: What plays the most important role in shaping our lives: Our genes? Childhood? Education? Personal responsibility? Courage? Other (please specify)?

Tags: achievement, chesed, childhood, parents, giving, purpose of life, Rebbe Rashab, roots, Abraham, love
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Bereishit, Vayeira, Modern, Personal Life, Torah Personalities, Home & Family, Torah, Rebbe Rashab, Emotions & Psychology | 3 Comments »

Noach: Raging Waters

October 27th, 2006

The Blessing of the Flood

— Samach-Vav Part 19 —

“Great waters cannot quench the love, nor can the rivers wash it away” – Song of Songs 8:7

A century ago (5666/1906), the Rebbe Rashab (Rabbi Sholom Ber), delivered the classic series of 61 discourses, called Samach-Vav. To commemorate this centennial this column of during the past year has periodically addressed some of the central themes discussed in this monumental series, with particular focus on its relevance to our lives today. (The entire series of articles, plus a running summary and related commentaries, can be found in our special Samach Vov section on our website).

The Samach-Vav series (hemshech) actually continues into the next two years. 41 of the 61 discourses were delivered in the year 5666. 15 more discourses were delivered in 5667, and the final 5 discourses are from 5768.

This week marks a century from the 46^th discourse delivered exactly one hundred years ago on Shabbat Parshat Noach. Its focus, which continues the theme of the previous discourses, is on the enormous power of self-generated initiatives, which even a son who inherits his father’s wealth can access by becoming a servant, who achieves results through his own efforts.

Some of its lessons are surprisingly relevant to our lives.

Torah is called a blueprint for life. Every event in the Torah has layers of personal, psychological and spiritual messages relevant to our lives today. One of the most powerful lessons from the great flood in this week’s Torah portion is explained by the Alter Rebbe, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi (1745-1812) in a discourse titled “Great waters cannot quench the love, nor can the rivers wash it away:”

“Great waters” refer to our life struggles. As the great waters of material worries overwhelm us and we find ourselves drowning in a flood of financial concerns, we must always know that these anxieties “cannot quench the love” of the soul nor can the rivers of worry “wash it away.”

On the contrary, our material challenges not only do not quench our souls love, but the flooding waters actually lift the “ark” of spirituality to greater, unprecedented heights. As the Alter Rebbe says, “the mistake of businesspeople is that they think that they cannot pray [and achieve spiritual heights] like the scholars [who spend their time immersed in spiritual activity]. On the contrary, they reach even greater heights, because the most powerful light emerges from the darkness.”

The challenges of material life elicit deeper strengths that can not be accessed in the spiritual realms. Resistance always generates power. A soul on its own naturally reaches toward the sublime and is never dying of thirst. But a soul that descends into the material world and manifests in a physical body flooded by rivers of narcissistic desires builds up a deep longing for transcendence, like a thirsty mouth in a parched desert, which a sated soul can never appreciate.

This is also the central theme of the Chassidic discourse delivered a century ago on Shabbat Parshat Noach.

Within this context, allow me this opportunity to answer a question I recently received which reflects an interesting twist to the manifestation of the “great waters” of material concerns plaguing people today.

Dear Rabbi Jacobson,

I read with great personal interest your article about wealth and the many responses to the question you posed “What does wealth do to families?”

Here’s my dilemma: I was blessed to be born into a wealthy home. With all the blessings of prosperity, it also brings much pain and little true happiness. In my case, I feel that it has destroyed my inner life. For years I did not need, and have therefore never pursued the route, to earn my own way. I would say that I have been castrated in the process. Due to the fact that my father is a rich man, I (as many of my friends born into wealth) have a false sense of entitlement, which today I have come to understand is utterly repulsive and vulgar. Though most won’t admit it, I actually felt – I’m ashamed to even say it – that I was better than other people.

You will never believe the extent of the distortion. Living off my fathers’ wealth I completely lost touch with reality, and actually convinced myself that I was wealthy, that I was all powerful and that I can to anything I wish. I was globetrotting and rubbing shoulders with movers and shakers, making investment decisions – while losing millions of my father’s dollars in the process – completely forgetting that this was not my money. I did not earn it, I hardly made any effort – yet I was behaving as if this was all deservedly mine. In retrospect, my arrogance, my delusion – every move I made – now appalls me.

My father, the good man that he is, of course, let me play my games. I actually wish that he would have been more disciplined. Sometimes I wonder if my parents weren’t smothering me in their own pride to have “made it” and in their laziness allowing us kids to just become an extension of their vanity.

I am now in my mid 30’s, and want to find a true soulmate with whom I can build a serious relationship, not built on distortions and illusions, but I don’t feel that I can overcome the so called “gifts” that have undermined my ability to truly grow.

Is there anything you can tell me that may help?

Thank you for listening,

[signed]

My reply:

Allow me to quote from the Chassidic discourse – part of the Samach-Vav series – delivered one hundred years ago this week:

“A father has a gifted son endowed with all the qualities of wisdom and sensitivity. The son astutely runs his father’s home and assets with prudence and good sense. The son is completely dedicated to his father’s interests, even more than to his own, and builds his father’s holdings into a far greater fortune. Yet, despite all the pleasure and joy the wise son gives his father, and despite the phenomenal growth the son achieves in his father’s business, son and father are not fully satisfied because the son has not yet acquired the ultimate success which can only come through ones own efforts. All the son’s success and achievements are ultimately not his own; they are only a result of developing his father’s assets. The father supports his son and provides him with all his needs. All the son’s work is with his father’s assets, not his own. Thus, all the son’s success was essentially given to him on a platter. The son was provided with all the ready made resources to build upon. So while the son deserves credit for actualizing the potential of his father’s assets, yet after all is said and done, the son did not create anything from new; he only reshaped what was already there into something better – “yesh m’yesh,” “something from something.” The ultimate pleasure is derived when the son builds something of his own; with no initial resources and with his own self-generated initiative, he creates something new – “yesh m’ayin,” “something from nothing.

“For instance, when the son learns a new skill, unrelated to his father’s industry, and uses his newfound skill to build something new. Even if this effort yields less income than reinvesting his father’s money, the son’s initiative manifests a greater and deeper achievement than developing his father’s pre-existing assets. Living off his own limited income brings much deeper pleasure than living off his father’s abundant money, which is unearned “bread of shame.”

“How does the son create something new and original? This is not possible unless the son is far away from his father’s presence. For the son to truly excel and reach his greatest potential he must struggle on his own. Through hard work and exertion, with no help from others, the son learns to create on his own. Only then does the son create new initiatives that generate far greater power than he could ever have reached by expanding his father’s pre-existing resources.”

Samach-Vav uses this analogy to explain how the “son” can become a “servant” and gain all the advantages of self-generated effort of the “servant.” In earlier discourses Samach-Vav discussed the two types of souls and two types of service: The soul of Atzilut which is an extension of the Divine, and therefore serves like a son who has access to the inner revelations of the Divine. The soul of B’iya, which is a “new” entity outside of the Divine and serves like a simple servant through hard work and earns its right to the divine through exertion (unlike a son that naturally inherits his father’s wealth). Despite the greatness of the Tzaddik (the soul of Atzilut), the true innovation and the purpose of creation is fulfilled by the “simple servant,” for only he truly creates a new energy.

This week Samach-Vav explains that also the “son” can attain the self-generated initiative of the “servant,” but to do so requires hard work: To overcome the inclination of a “free ride” and take for granted your inherited wealth and spiritual resources.

As we leave the holiday-filled month of Tishrei and enter into our “ordinary” routines and are flooded with financial concerns and material worries – a flood that has the power to destroy a universe – this week’s Samach-Vav discourse reminds us yet again, based on the words of Rabbi Schneur Zalman in his Noach discourse (delivered 199 years ago) – that our material challenges do not quench our souls love. Indeed, the flooding waters actually have the power to lift our spirituality to new heights.

So I tell you my dear friend, son of wealth, the greatest achievement of all is to “make it on your own.” I am not suggesting that you completely break away from your parents and home. But frankly the more independent you become the greater person you will be.

Each of us is presented with unique challenges, with our particular “floodwaters.” The overwhelming burden of poverty challenges you to remain strong and proud and not allow the poverty to break you and flood you with bitterness and demoralization. Wealth challenges you not to allow the flood of abundance to turn you into a “spoiled brat” who never learns to earn your way in life.

Each of us feels that our particular challenge is the most difficult one. But we are told that we are never given a challenge we cannot overcome. Acknowledged, the challenge of wealth is formidable. How, after all, can you not succumb to the temptation to live off the “fat of the land” and benefit from your parents’ wealth? But be aware that as long as you stay in the “shadow” of your home, the price you will pay will be far greater than the wealth you will inherit. That price will include losing your self, compromising your destiny and the possibility that you may never discover and realize the purpose for which you were put here on earth.

If you are aware of the high stakes it may help you take on the challenge, and follow the Rebbe Rashab’s advice: Leave the sphere of your parents influence, and go make it on your own. You always know that you have loving parents that will support you and your decisions. Indeed, they of all will ultimately be far happier seeing you become yourself,

Above all, remember that the “raging waters” of prosperity flooding your life and your psyche is actually an opportunity to lift you to unprecedented heights, to motivate you to rise above the waters and make your unique, indelible mark on the universe.

* * *

Question for the week: Are you for or against the war in Iraq? Why?

Tags: Samech Vov, Spirituality, Life's Challenges, Tishrei, Noach, anxiety, material, fear, Spiritual growth, Alter Rebbe
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Bereishit, Biblical, Noah, Torah Personalities, Personal Life, Modern, Love & Marriage, Home & Family, Rebbe Rashab, Torah, Business, Work & Money, Pain & Suffering, Personal Stories | 4 Comments »

Bereishit: The Origin of Consciousness

October 20th, 2006

The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil

Tags: self-consciousness, Adam & Eve, Divine Unity, good and evil, purpose of life, Garden of Eden, purpose of existence, purity, self awareness, human behavior, Tree of Knowledge
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Bereishit, Bereishit, Good & Evil, Soul & Mystical, Beliefs & Concepts, Free Choice, Personal Life, Spiritual, Torah, Emotions & Psychology | 7 Comments »

Simchat Torah: Bizarre Journeys

October 13th, 2006

Inspiration from Simchat Torah Over a Century Ago

Do you ever wonder about the bizarre twists and turns of your life’s journey? Why you had to endure various challenges, some of them seemingly quite unfair and overwhelming? Why do some of us have to suffer through impossible odds?

Simchat Torah in Russia over 110 years ago (corresponding to October 12, 1906) the Rebbe Sholom Dovber, known as the Rebbe Rashab, delivered a historic talk about the mysterious passages of life.

The Rebbe was addressing those Jews who were then being called up to the “priziv” – the compulsory draft into long term military service in the Russian Tsar’s army. This conscription was a dreaded prospect for Russian Jews who could anticipate particularly cruel treatment and not know whether they would ever return home.

The draft would begin in the winter. Those due to be called up came to the Rebbe Rashab on Simchat Torah that year (1906) to receive his blessing.

One of the draftees that year was Reb Shilem Kuratin (who was then a student in the Yeshiva, and would later become one of the head mashpiim, spiritual mentors). The Rebbe Rashab told him (translated from Yiddish):

“Regardless, you will be released [from the draft]. But the “spark” of Tohu that needs to be refined by you has to travel through the district [of the government office where you are being drafted], in order that these “sparks” should also “agree” [to be refined].”

A brief explanation of these terms: Tohu in Kabbalistic thought explains a fundamental cosmic dilemma: The root of all dissonance.

Since Divine energy is the essence of all matter, how do we explain the fact that our material existence can be so detached, so far removed from its source? What process allowed for such a radical leap – from unity to fragmentation, from an integral seamlessness to a disjointed existence? Tohu – which means chaos – is a state of being in which the energy is too powerful for its containers, resulting in what is called the “breakage of the containers” (shevirat ha’keilim), giving birth to every form of dissonance.

The purpose of this “explosion” however is not to create chaos, but to allow for an existence such as ours, in which we initially don’t feel our connection to our source and to our higher purpose, with the objective of bringing the Divine even into the darkest crevices, that deny the very existence of the Divine or even worse: replace it with a false god, so that they too should acknowledge the true nature of the Divine unity within all of existence.

Translated into practical terms this means: We live in a world of contradictions. Every one of us experiences dissonance in our lives. This may manifest in the form alienation, confusion or anxiety. It may be rooted in your childhood experiences – growing up in a home full with contradictions: One moment you were loved, the other you were abandoned. Abuse of various sorts help feed the confusion. Or it may be rooted in the nature of existence, regardless of the people around us. One moment you may feel inspired, powerful; the next moment you feel weak, resigned.

You may sometimes feel that you don’t belong. Not comfortable in your own skin. You want to be someone else. You may sense dichotomy in your life – a schism between your personal life at home and your professional life at work, a battle between your material need to survive and your spiritual need to transcend; between your higher ideals and the sad compromise of your standards.

Who of us has no struggle? No inconsistencies?

All this can either depress you, or… if you listen closely to the powerful words of the Rebbe Rashab stated a century ago, come to realize that all our schisms were meant to be: In order to allow the inner light to enter our fragmented existence, so that every aspect of our lives – even the disjointed and the chaotic – should also “agree” and accept the higher truth and purpose of our destinies.

And this is what the Rebbe Rashab told his students 112 years ago: Don’t be afraid of the draft. Remember that its entire purpose is to bring you to a place where there are “sparks” for you to elevate that can be found only in that particular location.

— I recall an interesting episode that took place back in 1990. My father was hospitalized for the High Holidays. On Erev Yom Kippur I went to see the Rebbe to receive a piece of “lekach” (sweet honey cake) and a blessing for my father. The Rebbe gave me a piece of cake, and said, smiling:

“Gib dos dem taten un zog im, az er zol shoin farendiken zein shlichus in shpitol, vet men em fun dort ba’frayen [or: aroislozen?].” “Give this to your father and tell him that he should finish fulfilling his mission in the hospital, so he will be released from there…”

G-d leads the footsteps of man. Wherever we travel, every journey we take, every experience we have – whether planned or not, whether pleasant or not – happens because we were led there by a higher force. You may think that you arrived somewhere due to your plans (business, vacation, personal), or by accident, or even against your will. In truth, you were led there to redeem “sparks” that are uniquely yours. Every place (physical or psychological) you have been too in your life offers you spiritual opportunities, that can help you grow and allow you to help others grow. Look for these opportunities, be open to the unexpected – and you’ll discover unimaginable results.

A Rebbe’s words, especially on the momentous eventful night of Simchat Torah, carry layers of meanings, eternal messages that often can be appreciated many years later.

The Rebbe Rashab’s words at the turn of last century were indeed prophetic. As difficult as the “priziv” may have been, the horrible places we would be forced to visit would only get worse as the century wore on. No one could ever have imagined what hellish abysses we would be thrown into first by Stalin and then by Hitler.

Today in the 21st century, we are blessed to have survived the destruction. Indeed, we live in unprecedented freedom. But we have our own new set of bizarre journeys. Many of us have grown up in homes that were far from healthy. The dichotomies of our lives have hardly subsided. Some may even argue that material prosperity has brought upon us more inner misery. We have fancier houses but broken homes. We have amazing communication tools, but less intimate communication. More network connections, but weaker inner connections.

Tells us the Rebbe Rashab – over one hundred years ago today – that wherever you go, as difficult as the journey may be, as strange your place may be, it is all for a higher purpose, for a deeper reason: For you to redeem the Divine sparks that can only be found in that dark place.

Indeed, we now are ready to finish elevating the final “sparks” in existence, as the Rebbe Rashab continues in his Simchat Torah talk.

Almost nothing is similar to life one hundred years ago. Yet, in some important ways not much has changed.

The greatest peace of all is knowing that where you are at this precise moment and place is exactly where you belong.

Let go of all and dance with that thought on Simchat Torah… and carry into the entire year.

* * *

Question for the week: How can one achieve joy even when things are difficult? Please share your ideas or personal experiences.

Tags: emotions, spiritual and material, psychology, higher reality, kabbalah, raising the sparks, suffering, Life's Challenges, pain, growth, Rebbe Rashab, Tohu, Divine energy, Divine purpose, life's journey, Russia
Posted in Tishrei, Faith, Beliefs & Concepts, Free Choice, Personal Life, Modern, Torah Personalities, Simchat Torah, Rebbe Rashab, Torah, Emotions & Psychology, Pain & Suffering, Rebbe, Personal Stories | 12 Comments »

Yom Kippur: The Kittel

September 29th, 2006

Yom Kippur 1945

The account below was related to me personally in 2006 by Reb Leibel Zisman, a living witness to these unforgettable events. Leibel was 14 years old at the time, and his birthday is on Yom Kippur.

Yom Kippur Eve 1945/5706, Foehrenwald DP Camp, Germany.

The sun was about to set on Yom Kippur eve, the holiest day of the year.

But for us… For us it felt like Tisha B’av. Just a few months earlier we were living, if you can call that living, it was actually dying, in the unspeakable horror that was called the Gunskirchen Lager (concentration camp) in Northern Austria. It is impossible to describe the hundreds of dead bodies strewn about everywhere you turned throughout the camp. The hunger, the stench, the death, the insanity was everywhere. The Nazis, may their names and memories be forever erased, dehumanized us, turning us into ravenous sub-humans, desperate for a drop of water. Days would go by between a morsel of bread and paltry sip.

I was 14 years old when we were finally liberated on May 5, 1945. Orphaned, widowed, homeless – completely alone with no place to go – we wandered in what now appears a complete fog. But it all comes back to me as I tell the story.

We – some 5000 of us survivors – ended up in the Foehrenwald DP (displaced persons) Camp in Germany (southwest of Munich), where we spent Yom Kippur, together with the Klausenburger Rebbe, Rabbi Yekutiel Yehudah Halberstam, who tragically lost his wife and 11 children to the German beasts.

As night was falling that Yom Kippur eve all 5000 of us gathered in a makeshift shul for Kol Nidrei. As is the custom in many communities, the Klausenburger Rebbe stood up on the bimah (the platform in the center of the congregation) to share a few pre-Kol Nidrei words to awaken our hearts and prepare us for the awesome day ahead of us.

I will never forget what the Klausenberger Rebbe said that Yom Kippur eve 61 years ago. The moment was overwhelming.

With tears in his eyes he began by thanking G-d for saving our lives from the Nazi hell.

He then pointed to his kittel – the white linen robe that we traditionally wear on Yom Kippur – and began to speak (in Yiddish), slowly, deliberately, tearfully:

“One of the reasons we wear this kittel is because it is the traditional burial garment, in which we wrap a body before laying it to rest in the ground, as we do when we bury our parents and those that came before us. Wearing a kittel on Yom Kippur thus reminds us of our final day of judgment when we will be laid to rest. It therefore humbles and breaks our hearts, stirring us to do complete Teshuvah (return). The white, linen kittel is a symbol of purity that we achieve through our introspection and efforts to repair all our wrongs.

“Since the kittel reminds us of the burial shroud of those that passed on before us,” continued the Klausenberger, “why are we wearing a kittel today? Our parents and loved ones were just slaughtered without tachrichim (burial shrouds). They were buried, with or without clothes, in mass graves, or in no graves at all…”

Suddenly, the Klausenberger Rebbe began tearing off his own kittel, literally. “No kittel!” he cried out in an anguished voice. “Let us be like our parents. Let us remove our kittels, so that they can recognize us. They won’t recognize us in kittels, because they are not wrapped in kittels…”

I have no words to capture the emotions pouring out of the grand Rebbe that first Yom Kippur after the horror.

Everyone gathered in the shul began to weep uncontrollably – men, women, old, young, every single person in the large hall. All our anguish, all our unbearable losses, all the humiliation and senseless dehumanization came spilling out of our guts.

It was an unforgettable sight: 5000 people sobbing. Nit geveint. M’hot ge’chlipet. Not sobbing; bawling. The floor was wet with the tears gushing from all our eyes.

What a stirring hisorerus (awakening) we experienced that Yom Kippur eve, what a remarkable hisorerus – it was unbelievable.

The Rebbe’s words rang in our ears, in every fiber of our broken beings – every one of us had just lost our closest relatives: fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, uncles and aunts. We were indelibly scarred. The words rang out: “What do we need tachrichim for?! Your father, mother, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, zeide, bobbe – they are all lying mangled in mass graves. Or in no graves at all – burned to ashes… What tachrichim? What clothes? What kittel?!…”

Picture the scene: The holiest night of the year. The awesome moment just before Kol Nidrei. All the Torah scrolls lifted out of the ark. 5000 broken Jews, left shattered, orphaned without families. The saintly Klausenberger Rav standing on the bimah, ripping off his kittel – “We don’t need it…”

*   *   *

What more can be said? Yet, as another Rebbe once expressed himself:

“It is difficult to speak, but it is more difficult to remain silent.”

Today, over 70 years later, we are blessed to enter Yom Kippur without the misery that haunted Yom Kippur in 1945, immediately after the liberation from the camps. Yom Kippur today comes amidst many blessings and comforts. We live in freedom and have achieved many levels of success. It’s almost impossible to imagine that in just six decades the Jewish people have gone through such a renaissance: With the growth of Israel, advancements in Jewish education and overall prosperity Jewish life today is nothing less than a modern miracle.

In stark contrast to 1945, we now enjoy a sumptuous meal before the holiday together with our intact families. We dress up, don our well-pressed kittels and enter our synagogues in calm and peace.

But we must never forget, never lose sight and get caught in the trap so succinctly captured in this week’s Torah portion: Vayishmen Yeshurun Va’Yivat. Shomanto, oviso, koshiso – “He became fat and kicked. You became fat, thick and gross” from comfort and prosperity. Such is the nature of an easy and content life: It creates complacency.

On Yom Kippur we dedicate an entire section of prayer to “aleh ezkiro” – these I will remember. We recount the troubles that have befallen us since the destruction of the Temple, ending with the heart-rending story of the “ten martyrs” who were barbarically put to death by the cruel Roman Emperor.

Ten great men – the greatest of their time – are never forgotten, and live on in immortality despite (or perhaps because of) their premature, brutal deaths.

A little over 70 years ago not ten but… six million martyrs were massacred for no other reason than their being Jewish, with no tachrichim, no kittels, no dignity – with nothing at all.

But we remember. And we don’t only remember. We recreate. We channel all our anger, pain and loss into a revolution, doubly and triply reinforced by the fact that we now have the responsibility to fill the void left by those six million and all that they and their offspring would have accomplished.

We don’t just remember; we know that regardless of the mystery of life and death, despite the historical extremes from destruction to rebirth – we are all part of one mysterious cycle.

We may never know why six million martyrs suffered such cruel deaths and millions of others endured unspeakable degradation. We will never know why their bodies were never shrouded in white.

But we always know that we – all generations – are bound in one inextricable chain, and we do recognize each other despite our different, even diametric opposite, garments, cultures, backgrounds and levels of commitment. Because beneath it all lies a unifying force that connects us all.

And on Yom Kippur – today, in 1945, two thousand years ago, and almost 3300 years ago – we celebrate this inherent unity.

This week we read in the Torah how Moses, close to 3300 years ago, just a few days before he ascended on high not to return, designated heaven and earth as eternal witnesses to his final words for the Jewish people.

Look up at the sky. Look down at the earth. The same clear sky and pure earth that Moses looked at almost 3300 years ago. The same smoke filled sky and blood drenched earth the Jews suffered in Gunskirchen over 70 years ago. The same sky and earth we gaze upon today.

The same heaven and earth heard and absorbed Moses’ words over three millennia ago. And they have stood ever since bearing silent witness to G-d’s promises.

Yom Kippur is upon us. And heaven and earth are our witness that we are linked today to all generations past – both a gift and a responsibility.

As the sun sets this coming Tuesday evening and we put on our kittels, we have much to cry and sing about – for ourselves, our families, generations past, future generations, from the beginning of time into eternity itself.

* * *

Question for the week: What sacred or memorable Yom Kippur memories do you have?

Tags: Jewish history, Yom Kippur, jewish survival, story, freedom, complacency, teshuvah, suffering, pain, holocaust
Posted in Good & Evil, Tishrei, Yom Kippur, Soul & Mystical, Months & Holidays, Miracles, Religion, Beliefs & Concepts, Personal Life, Exile, Spiritual, Moshiach & Redemption, Torah, Prayer, Pain & Suffering, Personal Stories | 7 Comments »