November 12th, 2005
Deconstruction At Its Best
Everyone understands that it’s always best to solve a problem at its root rather than merely address its symptoms. Why then is it so difficult to cut to the core of a dilemma and see beyond its secondary effects?
The one word answer is: Subjectivity. Once we are faced with a challenge, our own biases, comfort zones and blind spots distort our vision and we only see the outer manifestations rather than the underlying causes. “A person,” the Sages tell us, “can see all blemishes except his own.”
Preventive medicine is always better than symptomatic medicine. Yet once a problem settles in the problem itself seems to hide its own personality, and we no longer are objective enough (and sometimes become too busy) to step back and search for the underlying forces that give the problem life.
But, using Talmudic style logic, what lies behind our bias? Bias doesn’t allow us to see the root, but what is the root of our bias? Why should we be unable to see the origins of a problem, especially if seeing it is in our own self interest?
In one word (I am in a “one word” mood today) the answer is: Duality. The Kabbalists call the root: Tzimtzum.
We do not live in a WYSWYG seamless universe. What you see is not what you get. In this two-faced world (or even worse: multi-faced plurality) surface symptoms can conceal and belie what lies within.
If life would be one seamless flow, even if we were uncomfortable (but then again, in a seamless universe we wouldn’t be uncomfortable), we would always be able to recognize the cause of a problem and solve it at its point of departure. No different than, say, seeing the source of a leak and plugging it in time before it causes any damage.
However in our duplicitous world, once we wander away from the course, we cannot see backwards or within and simply retrace our steps; something blocks our vision and it gets increasingly difficult to return to the source. No one gets lost in a vacuum or in a moment. You initially veer off base just by an inch or two. But as you continue to travel in the wrong direction that inch turns into miles.
This may be the reason why it’s so vital to study history and understand how we got here in the first place. The present is always a product of the past, and the future of tomorrow cannot be understood without traveling back to yesterday. Fruits are borne by deep roots.
Could this be why the Bible is the number one best seller, beyond any charts? The story of Adam and Eve’s fall in the Garden of Eden, for instance, is the first documented description of temptation. Indeed, the mystics see this episode as the first loss of innocence, which set in motion a chain of events that would shape all human failings till this very day.
Abraham, in this weeks Torah chapter, is the first deconstructionist, who actually retraced the steps of human bias (to put it mildly) and its resultant consequences. Faced with a self involved pagan world, Abraham early on, recognized the short sightedness of the society around him and began a search – a search that would lead him to profound truths and unprecedented heights, and ultimately to father a revolution that would affect all nations until this day.
In a dramatic study of deconstruction (the first of its nature in history) Maimonides opens up his Laws of Idolatry with a fascinating account of social devolution from a universe experienced as a seamless Divine creation to a narcissistic profane society.
Maimonides’ analysis in sum goes like this: Originally the universe was seamlessly connected to its Creator, G-d. Everyone understood that the Divine was the only Source of existence. Since G-d is invisible, as time passed, social perception changed. Maimonides delineates three stages in this downward spiral.
The first stage happened in the time of Enosh (grandson of Adam and Eve). “The people made a grave mistake, and the scholars of that generation erred.” They speculated that since G-d created heavenly bodies through which He guides the world and placed them on high and gave them honor as His servants, it would only be appropriate that man praise, glorify and honor them as well.
Initially, at this stage, people knew that the one G-d was the only G-d, and they understood that the heavenly bodies had no power of their own. Their mistake was that they believed that G-d intended the heavenly bodies to be served. They then constructed temples for these celestial bodies and brought offerings to honor them, mistakenly thinking that this was G-d’s will and honor.
After many years this devolved into stage two. False prophets arose and claimed that G-d told them to worship the power associated with a particular celestial body and to bring offerings to these stars. They fashioned a figure which they claimed was symbolic of that particular star, which men, women and children should worship. Slowly an “industry” sprung up offering all forms of objects that these false prophets fabricated in their imaginations. These objects could be found everywhere – in temples, under trees and atop of hills and mountains. People would gather and worship these images in the false belief that they could improve or hurt their lives, and therefore are worthy to worship and fear. Other exploiters began to claim that the stars themselves (not G-d) communicated with them to serve them in different ways.
Slowly this way of thinking became the “norm” and spread to the entire population of the world, to serve these images with various forms of worship and offerings. Polytheism was born.
Stage three then became manifest, as the devolution hit a new bottom. As this “norm” took hold with the passing of time, G-d’s name became forgotten amongst the masses. They no longer perceived or recognized G-d’s existence. At this point men, women and children knew only of wooden and stone figures and the temples of stone in which they were educated from childhood to worship, serve and swear by. And their leaders perpetuated this illusion. No person was aware of G-d, the Cosmic architect, except for a few individuals like Chanoch, Metushelach, Noach, Shem and Ever.
And this is how life continued. “In this fashion,” Maimonides writes, “society continued to spiral and plummet, until the birth of the global pillar Abraham.”
Maimonides then goes on to movingly describe, in poetic language, how Abraham from young age came to realize that his society was deeply mistaken. Surrounded completely by a pagan culture, with no teachers and mentors, Abraham began to wonder what moves the celestial bodies. They could not be moving themselves. Slowly, this giant came to realize that which was known at the beginning – before the distortions spiraled out of control – that within all of existence lays G-d, One unified Entity, which created and controls the entire mechanism.
As his understanding evolved, Abraham began to discuss these ideas and address the prevalent beliefs of his community. He argued and called upon them to destroy their idols and recognize the true G-d – the only One worthy of worship. Obviously he upset many, especially in the establishment. As Abraham became more persuasive and influential, the leader of the time tried to have him killed, but he was miraculously saved and moved to Charan. He began to travel from city to city, nation to nation, and gathered people and taught them. He called upon them to recognize the one G-d. As people gathered around him with their questions, Abraham taught them each according to his understanding, until they came to realize the fundamental Divine truth. Abraham succeeded to build a community of tens of thousands of people who learned to get beyond the symptoms – and circumstances – of their time and discover the roots where it all began before the distortion of the Enosh generation.
Abraham then passed on this understanding to his son Isaac, who transmitted it to Jacob, who in turn passed it on to his children, all the way to Moses. And from there these truths were passed on to all generations to come.
Much can be gleaned from the social decline beginning with Enosh, and from the trend reversal initiated by the first non-conformist Abraham.
Perhaps the biggest lesson of all is this: The problem the people had then was that they wanted a relationship with G-d. Every child wants a connection with its parent. Every creature wants to feel attached to its Maker. On the other hand, people also have their more selfish inclinations. They want things on a platter – on their own terms.
These two factors – the search for an invisible G-d coupled with our own materialistic selfishness – create the breeding ground for replacing G-d with something closer to us, on our terms.
Initially, the process began rather innocently. No one was replacing G-d; they were simply honoring G-d’s servants – the celestial bodies, and in doing so, they felt that they were honoring G-d. Innocuous enough. But it was grave mistake. No tragedy begins in a moment. A small shift today becomes a disaster tomorrow. The fundamental, qualitative shift was the erroneous need to experience G-d on human terms.
As stated, G-d’s invisibility provoked people to search for something more visible. And precisely therein lays the problem. For G-d to be true and have any meaning, for us to discover true transcendence, we cannot in any way create a G-d on our terms. That defeats its entire purpose. We were created in the Divine Image, not the other way around. Our challenge is to rise above our finite mortality, our flaws and subjectivity, and embrace G-d on G-d’s terms.
Perhaps this is exactly why G-d must be invisible to our mortal eyes.
Once Enosh and his generation gravely erred and began worshiping something outside of G-d, something that was part of us, part of our created universe, then it was just a matter of time until the process would spiral out of control and people would forget about G-d altogether, to the point where the symptoms completely obscured the root. Almost that is, were it not for Abraham.
Where do we stand today?
Abraham’s awareness has now penetrated, even saturated, most of the world. Yet, in certain ways, relatively speaking, we still are faced with the two options of Abraham’s times:
Do we choose a life of self indulgence, self worship and the worship of other people or creatures like us? Or do we choose G-d. Every moment of your day, in your every move, you have these two choices.
Another manifestation of the dilemma takes on an ironic twist. Even Abraham’s spiritual teachings have been hijacked by some. In the name of Abrahamic faith many religious leaders in the last two millennia have turned religion into another form of self-aggrandizement, thereby paganizing it, in the sense that the religion is more about self worship, worship of authorities or other entities other than G-d Himself.
This, of course has had a profound backlash, with many progressive thinkers rejecting anything that appears faith based – rejecting as it were the distortions imposed on Abraham’s faith.
But whatever shape or form the distortion takes it always comes down to the same basic issue: Do we turn to G-d on His terms or on our own?
Abraham, born over 3800 years ago, left us a monumental legacy – relevant today as much as ever.
As “father of all nations” Abraham’s message is for all people. He can help us retrace our steps and see how we were before distortions set in, which can help us align ourselves instead of perpetuating projected social models.
Will you be an Abraham, on a quest seeking the root, or another symptomatic consequence of culture?
As we read about Abraham’s journey, the question we all have to ask ourselves is this:
Will I be part of the problem or part of the solution?
Tags: purpose of existence, Divine dwelling, Divine will, Maimonades, infinite, subjectivity, perspective, universe, finite, Abraham, spiritual and material
Posted in Bereishit, Biblical, Weekly Parsha, Soul & Mystical, Beliefs & Concepts, Lech-Lecha, Abraham, Religion, Torah Personalities, Free Choice, Spiritual, Torah | 1 Comment »
November 5th, 2005
Finite Infinity
— Samech Vov 100 Years – Part 3 —
How high can mortal humans reach? Being finite creatures can we even expect to touch the sky? From the beginning of time people have been seeking immortality. Is this a hopeless quest?
This week’s column addresses these fundamental questions based on the continuing discussion in the Rebbe Rashab’s magnum opus, Hemshech Samech Vov. 100 years ago this week, the discourse of Parshat Noach 5666/1905, dissects the anatomy of our finite existence and explains how we can free ourselves from its bounds without annihilating our parameters.
The transition from the holiday season to the regular scheduled year is a microcosm that reflects life’s greatest challenge: the struggle we have in balancing our spiritual and material lives. No person is immune of the two forces that tug at us all the time: The need to survive, something we spend most of our lives doing; the need to transcend above and beyond our routines. Humans simply do not have the luxury of animal bliss – the ability to be satisfied by survival alone, as, say, the cow peacefully grazing in the meadows, breeding and tending to its young, with no worry in the world or motivation to achieve more.
Healthy human life requires a delicate balance between a proper measure of angst and inner satisfaction.
The Kabbalists teach us that all of existence divides into space, time, and spirit (man). Indeed, the entire Sefer Yetzirah (Book of Formation) – considered to be the earliest Kabbalistic work – is based on this triad principle. So the human spirits’ struggle between the transcendent and the mundane is reflected in space – sacred places vs. secular ones, and in time – the holiday season vs. ordinary days.
The holidays are an oasis in time; they have the power to lift us on their wings and help us soar above the din of the rat race below. However the purpose of life is not to remain on “the mountain,” not to escape into spiritual insulation, but to carry the transcendence down below; to live in the material world, transform and elevate it to spiritual heights.
This is our challenge as we enter the New Year. Following the holiday-rich month of Tishrei, comes the month of Cheshvan, completely devoid of any holidays. We now enter into real life, challenged to infuse it with higher consciousness (see The Raven and the Dove: How to Deal With Existential Loneliness)
The big question is how? How do we lift ourselves and the world around us? It’s hard enough not to feel besieged and dragged down by the relentless seductions of material life, the unyielding distractions of temptation and the narcissistic forces of greed that surround every moment of our lives. It’s difficult enough to not slip into apathy or resignation. Let alone generate transcendent energy.
Appropriately the Samech Vov discourse said 100 years ago this week addresses this dilemma.
The universe is intrinsically finite. The limits of our existence are not merely in perception. It’s not only that due to the great tzimtzum the Divine infinite reality is concealed from us, but in addition to the tzimtzum the Arizal explains that existence comes into being through a “kav” – a ray of energy, that is both measured itself and measures and defines the gradations of all existence. Had there been only a tzimtzum and no “kav” one could argue that existence is not an independent reality or inherently finite; it only appears that way to us being that its infinite reality is concealed. Had existence come into being via many “kavim,” then there would be an existence, however it would lack diversity and gradations. Bringing existence into being via one single kav, which is like a straight line ruler, creates the inherent diversity of our existence. Thus, our universe is innately limited, structured and defined.
This only intensifies the question: How can we ever redeem ourselves from the inherent finite boundaries of the universe and achieve true transcendence? If it were only a matter of perception, than the challenge would be to get beyond our limited “doors of perception” (William Blake: “If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite”). But since existence itself is deterministically finite, shaped by the finite “kav,” how can we ever transcend our own parameters?
Philosophers and mystics over time have concluded that the only way is to either accept that transcendence is a sweet but impossible dream, or that transcendence comes only after death or through shedding our finite personalities.
The Torah – Samech Vov explains – offers a third option: The Mitzvah.
A mitzvah too has finite parameters. Every mitzvah has its specific guidelines, dimensions or measurements. Yet, the finite nature of the mitzvah is fundamentally different than the finite nature of the universe. The universe is defined by its parameters; a mitzvah is not. It is expressed and releases its power through its finite parameters, but the mitzvah itself is without boundaries.
A mitzvah is therefore essentially a finite form of infinity. To be true so is the universe: It too is a manifestation of Divine infinite energy. However, once the universe has manifested in its finite parameters it is bound and defined by them, with no escape hatch. By contrast, a mitzvah retains its infinite nature, it remains a Divine edict rather than a “law of nature.”
When we eat, sleep or partake in any other natural activity – we have no choice. As limited creatures ruled by the laws of nature, certain rules are necessary for basic survival. However a mitzvah is done by our choice – we choose to commit to a defined mode of behavior, not because we are forced to by the nature of our physical needs.
Thus a mitzvah has the power to redeem and free us from our finite confines.
A mitzvah is infinite energy in a finite discipline, thereby bridging the infinite and the finite. Other transcendent activities that we may partake in can perhaps give us a temporary taste of the infinite beyond Blake’s “doors of perception”. But a physical mitzvah is the only way to experience the infinite while maintaining our “doors of perception” and other finite elements of our personalities.
Paradoxically, the self-imposed (by choice) restrictions of a mitzvah, is precisely what frees us from our naturally imposed (without choice) parameters.
Based on the power of the mitzvah Samech Vov explains the opening verse of this week’s Torah portion: “These are the offspring of Noah. Noach was a tzaddik (righteous man).” Rashi comments that teaches us that “the primary offspring of the righteous are good deeds,” based on the Midrash that the “fruits of tzaddikim are their mitzvoth and good deeds.” Notwithstanding Noah’s biological progeny and spiritual contributions, his primary achievements are his mitzvoth which have the power to transform a finite world into a Divine one.
And this follows the central theme of Samech Vov. The opening discourse addresses life’s purpose: To transform the material world into a home for the Divine, and draw down new unprecedented energy that expresses “the innermost aspect and essence of the Infinite Light” (higher than the light that filled the ‘space’ before the tzimtzum).
Samech Vov then continues with a comprehensive discussion on the power of human initiative, how we have the ability to transform the world and generate new energy, through our mitzvoth.
This message, which is relevant all year round, is especially appropriate as we transition from the holidays and enter our ordinary lives, when our big existential issues come to the fore. Are we limited? Are we alone? What hope do we have to reach upward? How high can we go?
No time is better than now to reflect on the power of the mitzvah, and make our appropriate commitments. For the New Year many have the custom to add or intensify doing a new mitzvah, to assume a new commitment, with new focus, intention and passion.
What better way to begin the year?
Doing a mitzvah can be the difference between a life of enslavement in a finite bottle, or freeing your finite being by becoming a piece of finite infinity.
Tags: purpose of life, tzimtzum, mitzvot, space, transcendence, purpose of existence, Samech Vov, Divine will, spirit, time
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Bereishit, Soul & Mystical, Noah, Faith, Religion, Beliefs & Concepts, Spiritual, Torah | No Comments »
October 29th, 2005
Post Simchat Torah Blues
A close friend of mine shared with me how he was badgered this Simchat Torah. He was thoroughly immersed in the grand celebration of Simchat Torah – an annual event at the conclusion of the holiday season, which is marked by unfettered dancing and singing with wrapped Torah scrolls.
But each time this friend of mine took a respite and was seen standing on the sidelines while thousands around him were passionately dancing, he was criticized by friends and strangers. “Today we dance with our feet not with our minds;” “Stop analyzing, and join the celebration;” “Don’t be so rational;” “Enough talking. Start dancing” – were among the critical comments hurled at him.
Clearly, this man has an image problem. His peers consider him an intellectual – a maskil – a term used in Chassidic lingo to depict a powerful mind. But it can also be used derogatively, to describe a cold and even arrogant intellectual, who lives in his head and doesn’t allow himself to let go and experience emotional sensitivity. At its worst, Maskil or the plural maskilim is also the name for the “enlightened” ones, referring to the Haskalah, an intellectual movement which sprung up in Europe during the 18th and 19th centuries, that tried, and in many cases succeeded, to assimilate Jews into the secular culture of the Western world.
Chassidic thought distinguishes between a maskil and an oved, an intellectual and a “server,” one who puts greater emphasis on serving G-d, laboring to refine his/her character and perfect his/her behavior. It is insufficient to just intellectualize, conceptualize and philosophize; one needs to always apply every concept into personal and practical change. A maskil without avodah is frowned upon. Intellect is even considered to be a force that conceals the pure, unadulterated nature of the Divine.
My friend bemoaned the fact that he was being accused of being a maskil. He felt misunderstood. One person, he tells me, ironically spent 20 minutes philosophizing why philosophy is inadequate…
So the question is: Can a maskil dance? Can an intellectual release?
On a broader scale the issue is the role of intellect in the search for truth. On one hand, a discerning mind is necessary to transcend ignorant or emotional subjectivity and find objective truth. On the other hand, intellect can indeed be a force that distorts the search for truth. Intellectuals are not necessarily free of ego and self interest. And when the intellect is employed as a tool as the subjective ego it becomes a formidable enemy, one masked by “intellectual” arguments. Is there any arrogance greater than intellectual arrogance?
This only amplifies the question whether a maskil can get beyond the limits of intellect and experience the innocence of free abandon? How can intellect avoid worshiping itself?
The surprising answer, which I shared with my friend, lies in understanding the true nature of intellect.
The nature of existence can be perceived in two ways. The most common perspective is a dichotomous one. According to this viewpoint, the universe and the tools with which we experience the universe, is comprised of different, fragmented, elements. We use our minds to analyze, process and comprehend, while our hearts feel, emote and experience. We have emotional impulses and instincts, balanced (hopefully) by our reflective minds. This of course includes many conflicts within our psyches – the quintessential battle between mind and heart or between faith and reason, among others.
The second perspective is a unified or integrated one. All of existence, and all our faculties, are different expressions of one deeper reality. This point of view is fundamentally and qualitatively different than the fragmented view.
Needless to say, the Torah perspective – as elaborated upon in Chasidic teachings – is at its core unified by “Hashem Echod:” All aspects of existence are manifestations of one Divine Reality.
One of the radical implications of this unified perspective is that true intellect – haskalah – is at its core not really intellect. Rather it is just another form of Divine energy.
Unified G-dliness can manifest itself in many different ways – in feelings, in character refinement, in song and dance, and yes – in the mind.
The ultimate purpose, according to Chassidic teachings, is not to be smart and profound, but to be G-dly. Just as the point of being sensitive, refined and action oriented is not an end in itself but to be G-dly.
It’s about taking all your faculties – mind, heart, arms, legs, and everything in between – and recognizing that they are, each in their own way, but mere manifestations of one Higher Reality.
In other words, when one conceptualizes and arrives at various conclusions, including an understanding of the Divine, its not that the mind is knowing G-d. But the other way around: G-dliness is manifesting in intelligence.
And this is ultimately what the unbridled dance of Simchat Torah is meant to release. The mind, as all our faculties, but especially the mind with its own self-worshiping paradox, can become trapped by its own parameters. Uninhibited dancing with the Divine Torah – not studying it, but wrapped up – allows us all to transcend our faculties.
But the purpose is not to become illiterate or anti-intellectual. Rather, to recognize that intellect itself is non-intellectual, better – supra-intellectual, a force that expresses the Divine way of thinking.
The mind on its own, left to our fragmented human resources can be a great trap that blocks us from experiencing the ultimate reality. Mind games masking the need for control, intellectual arrogance hiding insecurity, philosophy justifying unaccountable self indulgence, are just some of the forms that intellectual self worship takes on.
But the mind is not off limits to G-d. Indeed, the mind and all its complexity is very much part of existence reflecting the Divine “mind” and design.
Through the bittul (the selfless suspension of ego) of the Simchat Torah dance one can reach the second ultimate perspective, in which the mind does not worship itself, but recognizes how it reflects the Highest Reality.
So, as I told my friend, there’s a maskil and there’s a maskil. The former one can indeed be arrogant and unable to let go in dance. The latter sees his intellect as just another form of the Divine dance. Its up to you to choose which maskil you will be.
Now, there’s a bit of haskalah to chew upon…
Tags: Chassidus, intellectual, Divine purpose, sensitivity, Simchas Torah, self-development, Divine dwelling, self awareness, arrogance, personal refinement, bittul, dance, joy, haskalah
Posted in Tishrei, Bereishit, Bereishit, Soul & Mystical, Months & Holidays, Simchat Torah, Personal Life, Spiritual, Emotions & Psychology, Personal Stories | 5 Comments »
October 22nd, 2005
Inspiration from Simchat Torah a Century Ago
Simchat Torah 100 years ago (corresponding to October 22, 1905) was a very difficult time for Jews in Russia. That October ended with a wave of anti-Jewish pogroms that engulfed the country: Pogroms in over 660 (!) cities and towns in Belorussia shattered thousands of lives. Following the dreadful pogroms in Kishinev and Gomel in 1903, these massacres left the Jews deeply demoralized, and were the major cause of the first Russian Jewish emigration to America at the turn of the 20th century, with hundreds of thousands of Jews arriving at the shores of this country.
The regions hardest hit by the pogroms were the Minsk, Mogilev and Chernigov gubernii (districts), which were densely populated by 221,000 inhabitants, 28,531 of them Jews.
This area was also home to the fifth Chabad Rebbe, Rabbi Sholom Dovber, known as the Rebbe Rashab, who at the time lived in the town of Lubavitch, which served as the heart of the movement since 1813.
How did the Rebbe celebrate that challenging Simchat Torah?
His son, (who in 1920 would become) the Rebbe Yosef Yitzchak, writes that in that year Simchat Torah night “my father delivered a discourse for four hours,” from midnight to around 4AM. “Then we went to [dance] Hakofot in the shul.”
Rebbe Yosef Yitzchak committed to paper the entire discourse (22 pages in print), which begins with the verse:
“I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dripped with myrrh.” (Song of Songs 5:5)
The next day, Simchat Torah afternoon, the Rebbe Rashab delivered another discourse, titled:
“When [or: because] Israel was a child I loved him.” (Hosea 15:1)
This is in addition to the fact that in that difficult year, one century ago, the Rebbe Rashab began his historic Hemshech Samech Vov (see Centennial of a Revolution).
Is this the way a responsible Rebbe responds to the crisis of his time? Wouldn’t it have made sense that the Rebbe should have been running for cover and warning his constituents of the looming pogroms?
Instead, the Rebbe celebrated Simchat Torah, and indeed the entire year, with providing one of the most fundamental discussions on life and purpose.
This should not surprise anyone. Throughout the history of Jewish persecution, Jewish leaders time and again responded not by wringing their hands and cowering in fear. Instead, they intensified their scholarship, prayer and spiritual growth; they deepened their commitment to virtue and chesed; they increased their mitzvot and adherence to tradition. Indeed, some of the greatest works of Torah scholarship were composed “under the gun,” whether it was Rabbi Akiva during the Roman Empire, Rashi in France or the Arizal following the Jewish expulsion from Spain in 1492.
The most powerful response to tragic events was – never one of resignation, fear or defeat, but – always a defiant demonstration of the power of the human spirit, able to face any challenge. All the terrible events in history led to unprecedented growth and enormous contributions in scholarship and virtue. And the gains – not the losses – are what live on forever.
Samech Vov was no different. The pogroms and unbearable circumstances gave birth to a memorable Simchat Torah and a revolutionary discourse that would forever change the way we look at life.
And what did the Rebbe Rashab discuss in his 4 hour all-night Simchat Torah discourse?
Briefly, he explained that “I rose up to open to my beloved” captures the essence of the human endeavor to get beyond the deception of the world in which we live and take advantage of special opportunities.
“I rose up to open to my beloved” refers to a window of opportunity that opens up for us in special times. “My beloved” is a powerful level of Divine energy emanating from the Essence, which appears intermittently – only in unique times. This opening will close if we do nothing about it. We have to rise up and “open” a door, i.e. create a container that will retain the energy.
“I rose up” refers to the power within each individual soul (the “I,” ani), that allows one to transcend and “rise up” above the din and deception of life – and see beneath the shrouds that conceal the true reality of our souls and our lives.
You “rise up” by not being seduced by material and egoistic trappings, by not getting stuck in the static of “mind games” and the resistance of intellectual defense mechanisms. You “rise up” by allowing your “I” (your self) to be inspired by the enchantment of spirit and bond with the Divine Unity that lies within all of existence, which allows you to see beyond the here and now.
We live in a deceptive world; a deception in consciousness in which we do not recognize the true nature of our own lives. Conformity results from being caught in the tentacles of this deception. Independence is possible by looking above and beyond.
Both scholars and laypeople each have their own particular challenges in seeing through the blinding forces of materialism, and both need to connect to the sublime through study of the Divine Torah. “My hands dripped with myrrh” refers to the “hands” of laypeople immersed in manual labor. Through their meditation and study of the Divine they not only see beyond the concealment; their hands “drip with myrrh” which transforms a bitter substance to a beautiful fragrance.
Though the Rebbe Rashab doesn’t spell it out, it seems quite logical that Simchat Torah is one of these extraordinary windows of opportunity. No doubt that this 4 hour discourse had a powerful impact on the Simchat Torah Hakofot that followed 4 o’clock in the morning a century ago. With all the destruction brewing outside that cold Russian October 1905, the Rebbe and his Chassidim must have danced a dance of spirit that would be the envy of any one of us…
Today, we too have challenges. Thank G-d not like those of 1905 Russia. Then the Divine concealment was clothed in shrouds of pogroms. The darkness created the deceptive illusion that goodness was vanquished. Today, our greatest adversary is complacency – the shrouds of apathy that naturally arise from comforts.
We can learn much from Simchat Torah 100 years ago. Above all we can derive the inspiration to appreciate our blessings of freedom and “rise up to open to my beloved” this Simchat Torah in a Divine dance of body and soul, lifting ourselves and the entire world to new heights of transcendence.
Tags: transcendence, purpose, deception, materialism, Samech Vov, body and soul, tragedy, Rebbe Rashab, complacency, Divine energy, chassidism, Torah study, achievement
Posted in Tishrei, Soul & Mystical, Months & Holidays, Beliefs & Concepts, Modern, Torah Personalities, Simchat Torah, Exile, Spiritual, Torah, Rebbe Rashab | No Comments »
August 6th, 2005
Who is More Passionate About Israel: Jews or Arabs?
Riddle time. Take this little multiple-choice test (and don’t peek at the answer below).
Ok, ready?
Who is the author of the following quote?
“… [the Jews are] more afraid to fight for the Promised Land than they are of G-d. For this reason, the Jewish people does not find it hard to break the covenant between G-d and Abraham, which awarded the Land of Israel to the Jewish people for all generations. That is why G-d has despaired of the Jews. After bequeathing them every possible means for securing victory and independence, G-d found His effort had been in vain.”
Choose the author.
1) Israel’s Labor party.
2) Rabbi Kook.
3) The Satmar Rebbe.
4) The Lubavitcher Rebbe.
5) Gush Emunim.
6) Al Qaeda.
7) The Christian Right.
8) Likud.
9) Woody Allen.
10) Agudah.
11) All the above.
12) None of the above; it’s a fabricated quote.
Write down your answer, then scroll down.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
The answer is #6! The quote is from a five-page essay published in Al Qaeda’s new print-Internet magazine Zerwat al Sanam (Tip of the Camel’s Hump). The article appears under the alias of Abu Zubeida al-Baghdadi and is titled: How Should Islam Relate to the Jews?
Here are excerpts from the article (translated from the Arabic by debka.com):
Al Baghdadi divides Muslim lore on the Jewish people into two stages.
“Stage One: Allah decided to test the Jews when they were still an oppressed people [in Egypt]. He seeks to lead them to the path of faith and victory and therefore urges them to conquer the Land of Israel. But the Jewish people’s main weakness emerges at this early stage. Its shoulders are too feeble to carry the heavy burden; the Jews always aspire to victory, but they are not willing to devote the necessary effort, sacrifice or sweat to achieve this end.
“The Jews have learned and must still learn that there is no victory without sacrifice.
To this day, the Jews have not discovered that which heaven imparted to us [the Muslims], that Allah grants victory only to he who dares cross the threshold and face danger alone. But the sons of Israel want G-d to go before them and win their victory for them.”
The writer here differentiates between God’s authentic representatives and Jews who, he says, make cynical use of the divinity.
“Stage Two: Throughout the generations it transpired that Jews, unlike Muslims, do not fear Allah and are incapable of understanding that the world’s moving force is fear of Allah, not of people. For example, they are even more afraid to fight for the Promised Land than they are of G-d.
“For this reason, the Jewish people does not find it hard to break the covenant between G-d and Abraham, which awarded the Land of Israel to the Jewish people for all generations.
“That is why Allah has despaired of the Jews. After bequeathing them every possible means for securing victory and independence, G-d found his effort had been in vain. Therefore the time has come to get rid of the Jews, because that is Allah’s wish,” al Baghdadi concludes.
There you have it.
Believe me when I say that I cringed when I read these lines. And I cringed even more when I cited them in this week’s article. The last thing I want to do is quote Al Qaeda dogma and its virulent Jew baiting anti-Semitism. And the last thing anyone of us needs are violent killers of the innocent lecturing Jews about breaking G-d’s covenant.
But, as the Psalmist says “from my enemies I have become wise” (Psalms 119:98). Sometimes you have to enter the belly of the beast to learn deeper truths about ourselves and our battles.
In this case we enter not the lion’s den, but the “tip of the camel’s hump.” Interesting that a camel’s hump is a reference among Islamic militants to the “epitome of belief and virtuous activity.” Hump indeed!
I therefore want to make it absolutely clear that I see no virtue or merit in the words of the camel’s hump other than another dangerous, ranting call to violence veiled in theological shrouds. Make no mistake: We have witnessed the blood curdling hatred of Islamic radicals in their jihad against the infidels and the hated Jews, and are not deceived by any of its attempted justifications.
Yet, regardless of the terrorists’ brutal intentions and their sub-human behavior, we can learn much even from their philosophical masquerade.
An adversary can help us expose our own vulnerabilities and what needs fortifying. Look at the place the opposition attacks, and you learn what you need to protect. Just like pain directs us to a problem (or in a reverse analogy: anti-bodies lead us to identify an infection), enemies, not friends, can often direct us to the root of the predicament.
The first thing we learn is that we are faced with a religious, ideological war. Whether the secular West likes or not, the enemy bluntly sees the conflict between Islam and the West as a religious-territorial battle rather than a moral-social one.
The enemy clearly has strong beliefs. However distorted, we cannot deny their passion and their single-minded focus. Which compels us to ask ourselves: What do we believe in with equal passion? Do we have an ideology, a vision that we can be proud of and feel driven to share with the world?
The second question we must ask is an even harder one to face: Is there any truth to al Baghdadi’s argument that the Jews do “not find it hard to break the covenant between G-d and Abraham, which awarded the Land of Israel to the Jewish people for all generations”?!
Is he correct in saying that the Jewish people are “are not willing to devote the necessary effort, sacrifice or sweat to achieve” victory in conquering the Land of Israel, that they are “incapable of understanding that the world’s moving force is fear of G-d, not of people,” and that “they are even more afraid to fight for the Promised Land than they are of G-d”?!
Remember, regardless of this writer’s reprehensible intentions, he brings up a powerful point that we must ask ourselves: Why are Jews living in Israel in the first place? Why should 5 million people insist on creating an oasis amidst 250 million plus Arabs and Muslims in the Middle East?!
I for one absolutely believe that the Jewish people in their heart of hearts know that Israel is the Promised Land and the Holy Land. They know that it is their homeland and are willing to do whatever is necessary to live in the Promised Land. They are ready to fight and do find it hard to break the covenant between G-d and Abraham.
The only reason that it doesn’t always appear that way, thus provoking the question, is because of a profound apathy coupled with ignorance that has descended on our generation (and generations past), which is concealing our souls and our innermost beliefs.
Much can be said about the causes and forces that have shaped contemporary assimilation. Finger pointing is not the issue at this point. We are all victims – or survivors – of a deep-rooted erosion of spiritual integrity that has accumulated over the years, and is perhaps the greatest challenge of our times.
Indeed, in this period of the year, traditionally called the “Three Weeks,” we grieve over the loss of innocence and the destruction of the Holy Temple as the window between spirit and matter, between heaven and earth. During these 21 days we think about the misalignment between our material and spiritual needs.
Mind you this is not a phenomenon exclusive to Israel, but a global one. We live in a materialistic universe, a prosperous and technological world, with the freedom to do as we wish, which tends to cause complacency to spiritual values, and blunts our ethereal sensitivity to our deepest beliefs. Most people living in a free society today cannot answer the question: What are you passionately ready to fight for?
As deep as the problem is around the world, in Israel the spiritual dissonance is amplified. In the center of the universe – where battles have been raging from the beginning of time – one can simply not afford to be complacent. Apathy in this region is tantamount to death.
It should therefore come as no surprise that Jews in Israel (and world over) struggle with their spiritual identity and their relationship with their land.
Hence, the challenge posed by the enemy, whether the Jewish people are ready to fight for “the covenant between G-d and Abraham, which awarded the Land of Israel to the Jewish people for all generations”?
Let us not be naïve and believe that if the Muslim radicals suddenly saw all Jews as devout and G-d fearing they would drop their arms and embrace the Jewish right to the Promised Land.
But it sure makes you think about what we should be focusing on in these trying times.
Sometimes even a camel’s hump can teach us a thing or two.
Tags: enemies, anti-semitism, Holy Land, Generations, terrorism, battle, Abraham, complacency, adversity, passion, hatred, spiritual and material, Jews, war, Three Weeks, assimilation, spiritual identity, truth, covenant, G-d
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Israel, Religion, Beliefs & Concepts, Bamidbar, Social, Exile, Spiritual, Torah, Massei, Current Events | No Comments »
July 30th, 2005
Radicalism in a Shaking World
As we come to the conclusion of the book of Numbers, we read in the Torah chapters how the Israelites are preparing to enter the Promised Land and wage war with the nations living there.
Don’t the Biblical battles set the precedent for all the religious wars fought throughout history, including the violence we are experiencing today?!
This essay – second of a series – debunks some fundamental myths about Biblical violence, and actually reveals quite a surprising fact: That the Torah offers a blueprint for a violent-free world.
Religious Violence Part I elicited quite a few reactions about the issue of religious violence, or better phrased: violence perpetrated in the name of religion.
The most obvious question was about my premise that the Torah is filled with the message of love and compassion, and that G-d would never sanction the killing of other people in the name of religion. “Never, ever use religion as a weapon,” I wrote. “No one ever was commanded by G-d to form a “lynch mob” and kill the infidels.”
Some readers were up in arms:
“Doesn’t the verse clearly state that when it comes to the seven Canaanite nations living in Israel ‘you shall not allow any people to remain alive…you must wipe them out completely as G-d commanded you’ (Deuteronomy 20:16-17)?! And regarding Amalek – ‘obliterate the memory of Amalek from under the heavens’ (25:19)?!”
Even in this week’s Torah portion war seems to be sanctioned, as G-d tells Moses “take revenge for the Israelites against the Midianites.”
Good questions. Very good ones. However, as usual what appears on the surface does not at all reflect the complete story, and actually may even distort it. Furthermore, any topic, especially a controversial one that occurred thousands of years ago and is briefly documented (in Hebrew) in the Torah, requires context. Context, context and more context is the only way to get perspective on the entire picture, and to recognize the “forest from the trees.”
How much more so when addressing a topic that is fraught with a blood stained history of religious wars – Crusades and Jihads, which is continuing to take a toll on lives today.
Consider as well the millions of books being sold today that describe the upheavals of Tribulation and the apocalyptic wars to be fought in the end of days. Some even argue that this “end of days” apocalypse is foretold in the Biblical prophecies.
All this underscores the critical importance of understanding in context Biblical references to war and violence.
First of all, it must be stated that life is not a movie and the Torah is not a screenplay. The Torah’s premise is that the material universe was created for the purpose that the human being, as a partner with G-d in creation, should transform his/her life and surroundings into a Divine home, by spiritualizing the material and thereby integrating spirit and matter.
G-d did not create the universe and all its dark dimensions in order that we destroy each other and the world in which we live. The world as we know it conceals the Divine challenging us to reveal it. We are sent into a dark and cold world to illuminate and warm it through our commitment to virtue and goodness – through our mitzvot.
The end of days, when the universe will realize the purpose of its being, will be a time of ultimate peace. As Maimonides concludes his magnum opus of Torah Law:
“At that time there will be no hunger or war, no jealousy or rivalry, for the good will be plentiful, and all delicacies available as dust. The entire occupation of the world will be only to know G-d… As it is written: ‘For the earth shall be filed with the knowledge of G-d, as the waters cover the sea.’”
This future world is not created in a vacuum. All our work today, and throughout history, builds the world of the future. Every mitzvah, every act of self-control, every deed that demonstrates the supremacy of spirit over matter, every virtuous gesture, reveals the Divine in the universe and is a building block of the Messianic age (Tanya ch. 37). The accumulation of all the billions of good deeds throughout history finally will erupt into a transformation of consciousness, in which materialism is no longer an end to itself but a means to spiritual growth and Divine knowledge.
Divisiveness, discord and any conflict is anathema to the model of unity aspired to in the Torah. “The entire Torah was given to bring peace (shalom) to the world, as it is written (Proverbs 3:17) ‘Her ways are ways of pleasantness and all her paths are peace’” (Maimonides end of Laws of Chanukah).
War is despised in the Torah. Even when King David fought justifiable wars, he was not allowed to build the Holy Temple because of the blood on his hands. As G-d said:
“You have shed much blood and made great wars. You will not build a house for My Name, [and repeats again] because you have shed much blood upon the earth in My sight. Your son, Solomon, man of peace, will build the Temple” (Chronicles I 22:8-10).
Thousands of other references – and above all, the entire foundation of Torah thought – all testify to the underlying theme of the entire Torah: Love thy neighbor (as elaborated upon in last week’s article). This is the entire Torah; the rest is commentary. The mission of the human race is to bring light into the world, not shed blood and fight wars.
This of course is built on the premise that the human being – and the world – is fundamentally and inherently good. If we were at the core narcissistic beasts, then the only way to tame a beast is through fear, discipline and aggression. If the universe were essentially an evil place – controlled by original sin, the Id, or natural selection by virtue of “survival of the fittest” – then war would be the norm and peace would be an aberration. After all, we are all struggling to survive, and in this “dog eats dog” environment may the best man win.
However, Torah psychology radically rejects this malevolent notion of human nature. Though we have a selfish side (which was instilled in us as the evil inclination) for us to overcome, at the heart and soul each of us is created in the Divine Image, with a soul that is inherently good. Thus, peace and love is the norm and war the aberration.
With this background, let us return to the story of the Canaanites and Amalek, and for that matter, any other episode that appears violent and war-like.
All references in the Torah to violent battles and struggles must be looked at with the backdrop of the love and compassion weaved into the very fabric of Torah, and the world of peace that will come about when it reaches fruition.
Thus the question is really the other way around: If the Torah – called Torat chesed (Torah of love) and Torat Chaim (Torah of life) – is fundamentally driven by a compassionate mission to expose the Divine Image within all human beings and transform the world into a peaceful place (“with no hunger or war”), then how can the Torah condone any killing and any war?!
Clearly, we are missing something.
Reminds me of the argument against a universe of design because of natural aberrations and mutations. The argument goes like this: Since the human body, for example, has wisdom teeth and an appendix that don’t seem to serve any apparent function, this proves that the rest of the body was not shaped by intelligent design.
However, this argument has one major flaw. The fact is that the multitude of systems and organs in the human body all are driven by brilliant design. Indeed, billions of cells in billions of people are all functioning in the most elaborate structure ever witnessed. So which is more logical: To say that the entire body is random because we don’t know the function of two of its parts (wisdom teeth and the appendix), or the other way around: Since everything else is driven by design, perhaps these two parts also have a function that we are not yet aware of. (After all, the tonsils were also considered negligible in the 1950’s, until they discovered its contribution).
The same is in our case. Since all the Torah’s ways are “pleasant” and “peaceful,” and the infrastructure of the entire Torah consists of love and against war, we have to conclude that these isolated episodes, in context, must have a deeper meaning.
Indeed, the mere fact that the Torah has to specify the need to go to war against the Canaanites, Amalek and Midian, tells us that this was not the norm, and it had to be spelled out.
Furthermore, history is the greatest witness of all. The Torah and the Jewish people brought civilization to this world, as testified by numbers of scholars and political leaders. The moral principles of the Ten Commandments remain the first and greatest statement of virtue and ethics. Thomas Cahill in The Gifts of the Jews and Michael Novak in On Two Wings powerfully explain how the Torah gave us a new vision of men and women with unique destinies; a vision that life has purpose and progresses forward toward a destination. Everything in creation is suffused with reason. This vision, as they write, would thousands of years later inspire the Declaration of Independence and our hopeful belief in progress and the sense that tomorrow can be better than today.
Is it then logical to say that the same Torah – whose values stand out till this very day as a shining example of the noblest standards that man can ever attain – could contradict itself in a call for genocide?!
And finally, consider this fact: As opposed to other religions, Judaism never pursued a religious crusade to impose on others its beliefs – through wars, inquisitions, jihads and other violent means. Torah actually dissuades conversion to Judaism. Because every person has the ability to access G-d in his/her own way, and a non-Jew can reach his greatest heights in spiritual growth without becoming Jewish. The righteous gentiles have a share in the world to come, Maimonides writes.
Indeed, countless verses tell us that at the end of days the nations of the world will all serve one G-d.
“For then I shall turn to the nations a pure tongue, that all shall call upon the name of G-d to serve Him as one.” “The entire occupation of the world will be only to know G-d.”
All nations – without converting to Judaism – will all be united, without compromising their diversity.
So what do we make of the Biblical statements about wiping out the Canaanites and Amalakites?!
Within the context of all the above, the answer is right there in the Bible.
As prelude to the verse “you shall not allow any people to remain alive,” the Torah unambiguously states: “When you approach a city to wage war with it, you must propose a peaceful settlement with it” (Deuteronomy 20:10). Based on this Maimonides rules accordingly:
“One does not wage war with anyone in the world until one seeks peace with him. Thus is true both of authorized and obligatory wars… If they respond positively and accept the seven Noachide commandments, one may not kill any of them and they shall pay tribute” (Laws of Kings 6:1)[Even according to Rashi, who is of the opinion that a peaceful overture is not required in an obligatory war, Joshua sent overtures of peace before crossing the Jordan and entering the land].
Now accepting the seven Noachide laws does not imply a religious crusade, but quite the contrary. These laws are the basis of all civilization, which are meant to govern all members of the world and form the basic groundwork for moral behavior and mutual respect. In other words, an integral component of peace is the commitment to ethical values. The Torah is telling us that even in war the primary obligation is to achieve a peaceful solution with the obligation to ensure that the adversary lives by the universal ethical laws, which include acknowledging G-d; prohibiting idol worship; prohibition of murder; prohibition of theft; prohibition of incest and adultery; prohibition of eating the flesh of still living animals; and the obligation to institute a system of law and order.
This is not about imposing G-d on to anyone; it is about the foundation of all morality and ethics. No different than say, the United States Declaration of Independence establishing that
“We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness — That to secure these Rights, Governments are instituted among Men…that whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these Ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its Foundation on such Principles, and organizing its Powers in such Form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.”
In other words, ready to wage war to defend the principles of liberty, justice and equality.
This commandment to initiate a peaceful settlement was not just academic. In fulfilling this commandment, Maimonides continues (6:5),
“Joshua, before he entered the land of Israel sent three letters to its inhabitants. The first one said that those that wish to flee [the oncoming army] should flee. The second one said that those that wish to make peace should make peace. The third letter said that those that want to fight a war should prepare to fight a war.”
When none of the nations (except the Chivi of Giveon) responded to the peaceful overtures, Joshua and the people had no choice but to wage war.
But even when the inevitable war is waged, the benevolent standards only intensify. As Maimonides continues (6:7):
“When one surrounds a city to lay siege to it, it is prohibited to surround it from four sides; only three sides are permissible. One must leave a place for inhabitants to flee for all those who wish to abscond to save their life.” [The Minchat Chinuch (527) holds that this is true also in a case of an obligatory war].
Nachmanides explains the moral obligation of this law:
“We learn from this commandment to deal with compassion even with our enemies even at time of war; in addition by giving our enemies a place to flee to, they will not charge at us with as much force (Supplement of Nachmanides to Maimonides Book of Commandments Positive Commandment 4).
Essentially Torah law completely rejects the notion of a “siege” as understood by military tacticians and acceptable by contemporary standards of international law. Secular law and morals allows the using of the civilians as pawns in a siege. Torah prohibits it and mandates that non-combatants who wish to flee must be allowed to flee the scene of the battle.
Now consider this: The Jewish people are returning to their Promised Land after 210 genocidal years of bondage at the hands of the Egyptians, and 40 more grueling years wandering through the wilderness. When Jacob left to Egypt due to the famine, the seven nations living in Canaan knew full well that the land belonged to Abraham and his children. They were only too happy that the Jews left, as they moved into their homes and property.
Now the Jewish people are finally returning (to everyone’s surprise and chagrin). The Jews give them ample warning. They make sincere peaceful overtures, which are all rejected (Joshua 11:19).
What would you do if someone moved into your home and refused to leave after every attempt you made?! What did nations do throughout history in situation where they wrongly decided that another’s land belonged to them?
And after all that, the Jewish people are still commanded to make peaceful overtures and not lay siege and surround the city – everything possible just to achieve a peaceful solution!
And this is true not just for the Canaanite nations but also for Amalek, as Maimonides makes clear, even though Amalak, like Nazis, mercilessly attacked the vulnerable Jews as they left Egypt!
Tell me if you find any benevolent parallel in our entire human history!… Was there ever a war fought with such high standards?
One additional point: All these laws regarding the Canaanites and Amalek is, as stated earlier, an exception. Both instances were one-time events in Biblical times, and never repeated again! As Maimonides writes: “Their identity has since disappeared” (5:4). Due to their utter corruption they did not accept the overtures of peace and embrace a universal ethical system, thereby bringing upon themselves their own destruction.
No nation in the world would ever have tolerated such contempt and destructiveness.
[Allow me to add that above all, the Torah is a spiritual book. It “talks about things above [spiritual] and alludes to things below [physical].” In this context, the Torah’s language of violence, wrath and vengeance take on an entirely new meaning, as do the wars with the Canaanites and Amalek which contain profound psychological and spiritual significance in dealing with our inner psyches and emotional struggles. But this we will leave for another time].
The use of violence in the name of religion has tainted our history and our view of G-d. No wonder that so many people see religion as that cause of so much anguish and pain in the world. We have been hurt by thousands of years of violence perpetrated in its name.
Islamic Jihad and Christian Rapture take the Torah out of context and turn it into a book of violence.
But when we go back in time, transcend the past and read the Torah in its pristine form, untainted and unbiased by the history of religious aggression, we find the most eloquent perspective ever offered on the sanctity of life, the rules of engagement and the co-existence of diverse nations – unprecedented and unparalleled in any document ever written.
Tags: war, ethics, civilization, peace, Torah, Divine dwelling, perspective, spiritual and material, compassion, unity, purpose, The Ten Commandments, Divine knowledge, religion, behavior, violence, divine image, Messiah, history, mission, adversity, mitzvot, diversity, Holy Temple, body, radicalism, conversion, transformation
Posted in Good & Evil, Biblical, Weekly Parsha, Israel, Religion, Beliefs & Concepts, Torah Personalities, Bamidbar, Social, Spiritual, Torah, Matot, Current Events, Amalek | 3 Comments »
July 21st, 2005
Radicalism in a Shaking World
In an unprecedented act of sanctioned zealotry, we read in this week’s Torah portion about Pinchas being commended for taking a stand against a public atrocity and killing the perpetrators, consequently saving thousands of lives. Pinchas is subsequently rewarded with the “covenant of peace.”
What does this teach us about modern day zealotry and its dangers? Haven’t we learned our lessons over history of the grave destruction perpetrated in the name of G-d by religious extremists?!
Item: Another slew of bombs explode in London.
Item: One more daily car bomb goes off in Iraq (are there any cars left in Baghdad?).
Item: Israel is at the brink of civil war, as Jew stands up against Jew, while the Arabs smile to themselves.
Item: A growing Muslim population is slowly changing the shape of Europe and the world.
Item: Most of us are sleeping quite peacefully, immersed in our midsummer night dreams.
Item: Some of us grieve over the loss of loved ones. Others are dancing at their children’s weddings.
Cynics conveniently explain it all away using the wise words of Solomon:
“A generation goes and a generation comes, but the earth remains standing unchanged… That which has been is that which shall be; and that which has been done is that which shall be done, and there is no new thing under the sun.”
Yes, that sounds like a good way to maintain the composure of our reverie. But one need not dig far beneath the surface to recognize that we are sitting on a boiling pot.
Forces are simmering. A one billion plus Muslim population is not complacently waiting for America to sell them Coca Cola and Big Mac’s (even if they were halal meat). The Muslim world is driven by a philosophy and a passionate belief system. Many of its ideas are quite noble and therefore appealing. Beyond all the distortions and the violence, it is not unfair to argue that the core of their belief system is the Divine message of the Bible of sublimating and spiritualizing the material universe.
However, like all strong belief systems, that same Muslim world is also a breeding ground for radicalism. At its extreme there is a powerful movement – no one knows the numbers, but it encompasses many elite, affluent Muslims – that advocates violence struggle against Western secularism. They see Christian and Jewish influences as corrupt forces that need to be vanquished.
Islamic intellectual hero, Sayyid Qutb, one of the primary philosophical fathers of Muslim fundamentalism today (he was executed by Nasser in 1966), has an extensive corpus of writings that advocates the philosophical underpinnings of the Islamic war against secularism.
“If we look at the sources and foundations of modern ways of living, it becomes clear that the whole world is steeped in Jahiliyya (pagan ignorance of divine guidance), and all the marvelous material comforts and high-level inventions do not diminish this Ignorance.” “It is essential for mankind to have a new leadership… It is necessary for the new leadership to preserve and develop the material fruits of the creative genius of Europe, and also to provide mankind with such high ideals and values as have so far remained undiscovered by mankind, and which will also acquaint humanity with a way of life which is harmonious with human nature, which positive and constructive, and which is practicable. Islam is the only system which possesses these values and this way of life.”
Do not be seduced by the ideological tone. Qutb then calls for a militant revolution that will, violently if necessary, annihilate the Jahiliya.
This is not to suggest that all Muslims feel this way. But however you want to analyze it, one mistake we should not make is that the Muslim world is indifferent. It has deep passionate beliefs that are not just going away (and should not necessarily go away) because the Western world is uncomfortable with them.
And this belief system is a hotbed of fermenting radicalism, which is giving birth and continues to give birth to thousands (if not more) of faithful individuals ready to sacrifice their lives in their Jihad against a world (in their minds) opposed to G-d.
No one wants to hear this fact because then our battle is just too formidable of a task. How will a Western world, complacent with its comforts, ever face the violent passion of thousands of religious zealots?
Therein lies the powerful message of Pinchas. The Torah clearly and consistently abhors zealotry. When Abraham hears about the impending destruction of the infidel city of Sodom – criminals by all accounts – he doesn’t celebrate or join the attack, even though it was led by G-d Himself. Instead, He argues and implores G-d to not destroy the city. The same with Moses after the Jews built the Golden Calf, openly defying the commandment against idolatry they had just heard and accepted at Sinai. Moses insists that G-d forgive them, and after 80 days he ultimately prevails, evoking the powerful thirteen Divine attributes of compassion, thereby opening the door of teshuvah (return) to all souls – the ultimate power of the holiest day of the year, Yom Kippur.
The Torah is filled with the message of love and compassion. Indeed, this is the entire undercurrent of Torah “Love you neighbor as yourself – is the fundamental principle of Torah,” said Rabbi Akiva. “This is the entire Torah; the rest is commentary” (in Hillel’s words). Indeed, the Torah warns of the dangers of being “more religious” than G-d, acutely sensitive to the fact that people can create “Torah sanctioned” outlets for their own personal aggression. “Erase My Holy Name,” G-d declares, “to preserve peace between husband and wife.” Never, ever use religion as a weapon. No one ever was commanded by G-d to form a “lynch mob” and kill the infidels. When the Egyptians were drowning in the sea for their obstinate crimes against mankind, G-d rebuked the angels for singing praise: “My creatures are drowning and you sing?!”
Even when King David fought justifiable wars, he was not allowed to build the Holy Temple because of the blood on his hands. His son, Solomon, the man of peace, built the Temple. The Talmud tells us that a Sanhedrin (Rabbinical supreme court) was labeled a “murderous” court if under their tenure one verdict of capital punishment was issued even once in 70 years! Not because they are accused of being biased or corrupt, but to emphasize how abhorrent death is, even when it may be justified.
The only exception of sanctioned zealotry is Pinchas. Why would the Torah allow for the celebration of this one instance of zealous behavior when it knows the risks of how it can be interpreted?
The answer lies in the opening verse of this week’s chapter: G-d says “Pinchas, the son of Eliezer, the son of Aaron the Priest, turned away My anger from the Children of Israel by zealously taking up My cause and thus preventing me from destroying them.”
The additional attribution to his grandfather Aaron the Priest (and not the usual reference to “Pinchas son of…”) is in order to emphasize Pinchas’ personality. Aaron was a man of love and peace. The Mishne tells us “be of the students of Aaron, love peace and pursue peace. Love all creatures [even if they have no other obvious quality except that they are G-d’s creatures] and bring them closer to Torah.”
Had Pinchas been an aggressive personality, had he been an advocate of religious radicalism, that would have boded trouble. Pinchas was a man of peace, a quiet man. Even this act of zealotry was not to kill, but to protect innocent people from being killed. When Pinchas saw that the people were dying as a result of the public atrocity and desecration that Zimri perpetrated, he went against his own quiet nature to defend G-d and save lives. Selflessness, not personal prejudices, was Pinchas’ driving force. The moment personal interests and inclinations are involved, one ceases to be a zealot.
It was actually Zimri, of the house of Shimeon who was the aggressive one, as was his grandfather Shimeon who was rebuked by Jacob for his violent and heated behavior.
Pinchas teaches us an invaluable and powerful message today.
The mistake we are facing today is in two extremes: Either extreme religious radicalism, or its’ counterpart – extreme libertinism, where everything goes. Indeed these two positions actually feed off of each other, thus making them close cousins. Years of abuse in the name of religion have created a backlash and knee-jerk reaction to anything that even “smells” of religious bigotry or imposition. Even if this may be understandable, it still doesn’t make it correct. Often, the reaction born out of an unhealthy situation is equally unhealthy.
What may be even worse than fanatical moral relativism (borne out of religious fanaticism) is passive apathy, or even radical apathy (if that’s possible). As one fellow asked his friend: “What’s worse, ignorance or apathy.” His reply: “I don’t know and I don’t care.”
A deep apathy – quite invisible – has arisen as a result of all these battles of extremism on both sides. Some call it the “silent majority,” others the “ignorant masses” ‘(“olam golam” in Yiddish), and yet others the large number of people who live “lives of quiet desperation.” You can add into the mix the cynics that cite the abovementioned reference in Ecclesiastes: “Nothing new under the sun.” Thus it was and thus it will always be.
Comes Pinchas the man of peace and tells us that there is another option: No extremes, no bringing in your own personal prejudices and feelings of aggression or passivity, violence or comfort zones. Pinchas teaches us simple selflessness to protect and defend innocent lives. Zealousness – but in peace.
G-d forbid for anyone to use Pinchas as a model of aggressive to hurt another person even in the name of religious beliefs. Self-defense and protecting other lives is another story. If you are quiet when you see other people being slaughtered, then you are not a man of peace; you are a coward.
What we learn from Pinchas is the exact opposite of killing in the name of religious zealotry. Violence against other people, especially innocent ones, can never be tolerated – no matter what its cause. Any justification of violence, whether it is in the name of religion or in the name of fighting for a cause, is unequivocally deplorable and goes against the laws of G-d. Anger and murder resulting from religious feelings is perhaps the most dangerous of all, because the “holy war” helps mask the venting of personal aggression.
Some prominent writers have suggested that terrorism in Israel can be justified because they are fighting there for a cause, but it cannot be justified in London. It is laughable if it weren’t so tragic to suggest that terrorism is acceptable in one region but not in another. Imagine someone arguing that he can “understand” Nazi atrocity against Jews but not against Americans… If violent terrorism is “acceptable” (or more pc: “reprehensible but understandable”) in Jerusalem, then it becomes “acceptable” – and just a short step away – from violence in London, Paris, Moscow, New York and Beijing.
The Nazi terror made it abundantly clear that injustice in one place is injustice everywhere. Hatred to one race is hatred to all. And the biggest revelation of all: Indifference to violence and brutality against one group of humans is indifference to brutality against all humans. We are in this together – for bad and for good. Churchill put it best: “Appeasement in time of aggression is feeding the crocodiles in the hope that you will be eaten last.”
On the other hand, Pinchas teaches us, just because religion has been abused and used to perpetrate atrocities we shouldn’t fall to the other extreme of not fighting for any values. We must never lose sight of right and wrong, but at the same time we must learn from the past how to fight for it with selfless passion, not with violence.
We face today a major confrontation between religious and secular forces. In the Middle East and spreading through Asia, Africa and Europe, this battle is only accelerating. September 11th was a reminder to America of the festering forces at work.
On a subtler scale similar tensions are brewing in the United States. Whether it be around evolution and creationism or the right to live and die, abortion or the display of the Ten Commandments, the long history of the battle for dominance between religious and secular voices continues to rage.
To borrow a phrase – a specter is haunting the world. Not the specter of communism but of making our peace with G-d.
Leaders rise in times like this.
A new vision is needed. Or is it a timeless vision that simply needs to be rediscovered?
What is needed today is passion – but guided by humility. G-d – but guided by love and compassion.
A specter is hanging over us – the specter of freedom. The violence perpetrated around the world today offers us an unprecedented opportunity to wake ourselves up from complacency and embrace a zealous battle for justice and truth.
We need a zealot today. Not a murderous zealot but a zealot of peace. A true Pinchas that will rise and defy conventional thinking.
Today we are called to join forces in a zealous and passionate against all form of extremism and violence, including those perpetrated in the name of religious zealotry. To counter the passion of misguided souls ready to blow themselves up, we need to zealously defend and promote the Divine principles of justice and peace – and all in the spirit of unity and love fueled by selflessness.
Nations of the world, communities across the globe, need to zealously unite with one powerful message: We will not tolerate or accept any form of violence, not in Jerusalem and not in London. Religious beliefs must be used not to fight wars, but to promote spiritual values, to establish laws that respect basic human rights and allow for diversity.
We must demand of the Muslim world – and for that matter of the Christian and Jewish world, as well as of all religions and creeds – to embrace the principles established by Abraham, father of all nations, to promote the deepest values of virtue and integrity, all with love and inspiration. To fight the pagan forces of the universe, not with violence, but with spreading light and warmth.
Tags: Abraham, compassion, King Solomon, teshuvah, idol worship, Moses, passion, golden calf, belief, humility, Philosophy, unity, selflessness, behavior, violence, King David, love, zealotry, murder, religion, Holy Temple, liberalism, Mt. Sinai, radicalism, lineage, peace, Pinchas
Posted in Biblical, Weekly Parsha, Israel, Religion, Beliefs & Concepts, Abraham, Torah Personalities, Bamidbar, Exile, Ishmael, Social, Spiritual, Torah, Government, Pinchas, Racism, Current Events | 1 Comment »
July 14th, 2005
From the ancient pyramids to post-modern cryogenic freezing, man has always been in search for immortality.
Even today’s cosmetics industry, botox and all, is a take-off – no pun intended – of the timeless quest for the “fountain of youth,” something, anything that would abort or reverse the aging process.
In one verse in this week’s Torah portion (Balak), the prophet Balaam tells us the secret of immortality.
Some background: Moabite King Balak, fearing the power of the Jewish people traveling through his land, commissions the prophet Balaam to place a curse on the Jews. Instead, Balaam – being no more than a medium for Divine revelation – ends up blessing them with the greatest of blessings.
Much has been written about the transformational power of these blessings. They demonstrate the ability to convert liabilities to assets; curses to blessings. Coming from Balaam – the alter ego of Moses – these blessings are especially potent: They express the “profound light that emerges from darkness.” And indeed, Balaam’s words reverberate through history with their prescient vision and their prophetic description of the Jewish people.
Of all people, Balaam – no friend of Israel – is the one that teaches us the way to reach eternity.
“Who can count the dust of Jacob, and the number of the seed of Israel?” Balaam declares (Numbers 23:10).
Ostensibly, the verse is quite cryptic. And even contradictory. What sort of compliment and blessing is comparing Jacob to… “dust?! And what virtue is there in the fact that no one can count them? Finally, the nations of the world are much larger in number than the Jewish people. So why exactly is Balaam using numbers to describe the uniqueness of the Jewish people (that they are multiple like dust and therefore can’t be counted)?!
This is not the first or only time when the Jewish people are blessed to multiply like the “dust of the earth.” Abraham and Jacob are both blessed in this fashion. “And I will make your descendants as the dust of the earth; so that if a man could count the dust of the earth, then your descendants also will be countable” (Genesis 13:16. See also 22:17. 28:14. Hosea 2:1). Here again the seemingly derogatory expression of “dust” is used! To describe their large numbers why not use a lofty example, say, of the “stars in heaven” – as is indeed stated in other places (Genesis 15:5. 22:17)?! And here too the obvious question can be asked: The Jewish people are the “fewest among nations.” Not even 1% of the entire population of the world – hardly uncountable, especially in contrast to the other nations!
Balaam’s blessing actually answers all these questions and explains the uniqueness of the Jewish people whose numbers can’t be counted.
It’s not their quantity but their quality that makes them uncountable. And this quality is expressed best with the metaphor of dust.
And with this we shall introduce a new word into the English language. The word is “bittul.” Never heard of it, right? Because there is no such word in English. It’s actually quite impossible to fully translate, perhaps because the concept is not (yet) contained or tolerated in the English (secular) world. Bittul is a combination of selflessness, humility and modesty. And more than that. It is a form of subjugation, but out of strength not weakness. And more than that. Bittul is the art of self-suspension – suspending your self to serve a cause greater than your self. And more than that…
“Dust” is a metaphor for bittul. As we say at the conclusion of the amidah prayer: “Let my soul be as dust to all.” Dust does not have an ego. When your soul feels like dust, it means that it is not filled with its proud self. The soul feels like dust in face and in awe of something far greater. The soul does not experience itself as a self-standing entity, but simply as an extension of a higher reality.
This expression of dust is not to be confused to its disparaging use as in dismissing something that is insignificant and meaningless like dust. Something that people ignore, step all over or see as a nuisance. The dust we are referring to is quite the opposite – a sense of being lifted to a far greater place than you can ever reach one your own. As the prayer continues: “Let my soul be as dust to all. Open my heart to Your Torah.”
There is nothing and there in nothing. There are two types of nothingness – one belittling, the other be-greating. There is a nothing that is lower than “something,” like the dust beneath your feet. Psychologically, this type of nothingness is expressed in feelings of inadequacy and low self-esteem, lack of confidence and security. Then there is a nothing that is greater than “something” – being that it transcends the very boundaries of the “something.” And the more “nothing” it is the greater it transcends all definitions and boundaries, until… it becomes one, and extension of, the ultimate Undefined Reality. This experience of “nothingness” (bittul) expresses itself in ultimate humility, which should not be confused with low self-esteem. Humility is a strength that is completely aware if its own strengths (as opposed to someone who has no confidence), yet recognizes that the strengths are not self made; they originate from a higher source. Humility is utter self-assuredness, but always cognizant of a higher presence.
As such, bittul is the single most powerful force in life. It is the recognition that you are not an entity unto yourself, but a channel for that which is greater than you.
Without bittul there is no growth. A seed must decompose before it turns into a sapling that will grow into a powerful tree. A mother goes through birth pangs before a beautiful child emerges. Creativity is a child of frustration; the greater the creation the more the frustration that precedes it. All clarity comes after a state of utter confusion. You have to melt down gold before reshaping it into a stunning ornament.
This is the rule of existence and beyond. The bittul of one state is necessary to reach a higher state. Basically, one layer of skin must be shed to assume a new layer. A filled cup cannot be filled. The Kabbalists call it the “ayin” that comes between two states of “yesh” (being).
Bittul, therefore, can never be counted and can never die. Bittul is immortal. Nothingness cannot become nothing. Nullification cannot be nullified. The more it is nullified, the greater it becomes.
This is Balaam’s blessed message: “Who can count the dust of Jacob.” Jacob embodies bittul. Since Jacob is bottul like dust, “Jacob is the small one” who is not consumed with self-value, but has suspended his self and become an extension of that which us beyond himself, than how can he ever be counted? There is no measured entity to be counted.
As long as there is a “self” – a sense of your own being – then you are measurable and countable. But if you free yourself of your own boundaries and feel like “dust”, not through self-annihilation and lack of self-awareness, but because you feel that your self is just an expression of a higher entity – than you no longer can truly be counted. To count you, to measure you, to define you in any way would need to include that which you are a channel of. Being that you are channel of the eternal and infinite Divine, then you are as uncountable as Eternity itself.
Of all people, Balaam the enemy himself, tells us that you have two choices:
You can be dedicated to you own needs, your own growth – your own being, expanding and self actualizing in every which way. Then you can be great, but only as great as a mortal can be, with your particular parameters.
Or you can dedicate you life to a cause far greater than you are. And then you become greater than your self could ever be.
The formula is simple: If you are dedicated to something mortal and finite, then you are mortal and finite. If you dedicate yourself to the immortal then you become immortal.
Now choose.
Tags: Israel, Jacob, Divine energy, bittul, ego, Jewish nation, Abraham, growth, counting, humility, infinite, prophecy, selflessness, transcendence, soul, immortality, blessings and curses, higher reality
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Soul & Mystical, Beliefs & Concepts, Miracles, Bamidbar, Personal Life, Spiritual, Torah, Balak | 19 Comments »
July 7th, 2005
When the Question is the Answer
And the living shall take to heart
Who is as the wise man? And who knows the interpretation of a thing? A man’s wisdom makes his face shine, and the intensity of his face is changed –
Ecclesiastes 8:1
Ah, a face.
The human face is one of the great mysteries. What makes a face a face? Is it the look, the features, the eyes, all the above, none of the above, or both and perhaps something more.
A face can tell it all, or it can hide it all. Is there anything as comforting as a kind face, reassuring as a warm smile and electrifying as sparkling eyes?
And is there anything more disturbing than a scowl, unsettling than a dirty stare, dismissive than a frown and alarming than a frightened face?
Then there is the sheepish look, the proud look, the bright face and the ashen one. The blush and the flinch, the pride and the shame, the joy and the pain. The entire spectrum of life experience, the tangible and not so tangible, is captured in our facial expressions.
When we want to see another’s reaction the first place we look is usually at the face. The reason is perhaps because as newborns our first sights are the faces of our mothers and fathers.
A face tells a story. A face is a story. Many stories – many volumes. A face is a study in the mysteries of human nature. It reveals and it conceals all at once.
Can we ever know the depth of feelings that lie behind a smile or a grimace?
The Hebrew word for face can perhaps shed some light on the mystery. “Panim” means both “face” and “inside” in Hebrew. Strange. A face seems to express the external surface, as in “the face of the matter.” Indeed, one can put on a false face that does not reflect what lies within. You can smile while feeling miserable inside.
Yet, the Hebrew language – a language of the soul – defines the true nature of a face: Even as we may use it to conceal, it reflects the inside of a person. Those sensitive to the “panim” within a person can read the face’s inside story.
Mystically speaking, each of us was created in the “Divine Image.” What does that mean? Isn’t “Divine Image” an oxymoron? If it’s Divine than it should not be able to be contained in a mere image. As G-d tells Moses “no man can see me and live.” Indeed, the second commandment explicitly prohibits the carving of a “graven image” of the Divine. By creating man did G-d transgress His own commandment?
The mystic’s answer is this. In creating man G-d manifested His inner “personality” in an outer image called the human being. While the essence of G-d remains beyond any manifestation, a dimension of Divine energy takes on the shape of a “supernal man” (“odom ha’elyon”) in whose “image” and “figure” each of us is created. As Ezekiel begins his prophetic vision: “upon the figure of the throne a figure in the shape of a human.”
Prior (conceptually, not in time) to existence, there was no “inside” and “outside.” Everything was within the all encompassing and all-pervasive Divine energy. What is today “outside” was then “inside.” The Great Tzimtzum turned the inside out and the outside in, creating a duality in which we have “outside” experiences that can seem divorced of their “inside” souls.
But with the creation of man, G-d revealed His inside in an outward manifestation. In effect, the human being is a walking revelation of the Divine.
Free will is of course our right to choose to reveal the inner Divine or to allow the outer packaging to dominate.
***
The Midrash in this week’s Torah portion discusses the face in some of its extreme contortions.
Moses challenges G-d, the Midrash relates, with the biggest question of all. “How can one be purified from the impurity of death?”
G-d did not respond.
“At that moment, Moses’ face turned yellow (pale).”
Only later, continues the Midrash, when they reached the section of the red heifer [this week’s Torah portion], did G-d say to Moses: “When I communicated to you the laws of ritual impurity, you asked Me, how can this person (touched by death) become pure, I did not respond. Now I will give you the answer.” And G-d proceeded with the mitzvah of purification from the impurity of death by mixing the ashes of a red heifer with fresh water and sprinkling it upon the contaminated human being.
What kind of answer is this? And if it’s an adequate answer why was G-d initially silent and not say it in the first place?
This passage in Midrash is actually an interpretation of the verse in Ecclesiastes, “Who is as the wise man? And who knows the interpretation of a thing? A man’s wisdom makes his face shine, and the intensity of his face is changed.”
In this verse King Solomon is describing the mystery of life and death, and the way humans deal with it. We can all feel wise when things are “going well.” The world in which we live is so structured that the surface obscures all that going on within. To the extent, that on the surface level we may feel that we are in control and know the “interpretation of a thing” or two.
Until… until something shakes our comfort zone, waking us up from our reverie. Then, suddenly, we realize that the deepest truth of all is the query: “Who [really] is as the wise man? And who knows the interpretation of a thing?”
This does not negate the wisdom that we may have. Indeed, “A man’s wisdom makes his face shine.” Yet, experiencing the pain of death – the disconnection of a soul departing its body, and leaving its family and friends to travel to another domain – teaches an even deeper wisdom, as “the intensity of his face is changed.”
Moses, the quintessential man of G-d, the collective soul that contains within itself the experience of all souls, personally undergoes this transformation.
Moses was wise. And his face showed it. He had to cover his face because the people could not look at its radiance.
But then Moses became even wiser. He learned that the greatest wisdom of all is silence. That quiet place was revealed to him only when he asked the question – the greatest question of all: What do we do with death?
We live our entire lives believing that our actions have meaning; that the prices we pay to live virtuously, and the sacrifices of our parents and grandparents, are all worth it because every good deed, every effort, lives on forever.
Death, however, challenges the entire premise of our significance. Death seems to declare that no one is indispensable. The very word death means “the end,” finality. You think the party will never end – boom! It ends whether you like it or not.
Moses was a great man, the greatest of them all. His greatness shined most – as all greatness does – not in “good times,” but in the bad. In the abysmal throes of Egypt, after the tragedy of the Golden Calf, in the darkest moments, Moses did not shrink away helpless. He looked the blackness in its face, and did whatever it took.
Now, Moses confronts the issue if death. He is not afraid to face it, but he also is wise enough to know that you need different tools (or no tools) to address the “dark side” of life. Moses does not confront death intellectually, academically; he takes it personally to heart and cries out: “What can possibly purify the impurity of death?!” How can one ever heal from it, how can it not shake the very core of our beliefs?
The first step in dealing with it is bravely asking the question and feeling the pain, as it showed in Moses’ face changing color. [In another place the Midrash just states “Moses’ face changed”].
The face. “The intensity of his face is changed.” The same face that glowed after Moses descended with the Tablets, now changed as he looked death in the eye.
Then G-d taught Moses the true answer: Silence. Nothing but silence can contain the intensity of the schism between life and death. It takes us back to the silence of the Tzimtzum itself. Before the tzimtzum, reality was “buzzing” with infinite light (ein sof) and all its delights. Suddenly, a silence descended: G-d withdrew the conscious awareness of Divine energy, to allow for our independence to emerge.
Imagine, as the analogy goes, the most brilliant master unceasingly expounding on the infinite reservoirs of all wisdom and knowledge, then suddenly he falls silent.
The stillness must be so deafening – louder than any sound we will ever hear. The energy expended in withholding the flow is infinitely more powerful than the energy invested in releasing the flow.
This silence replays itself in every death. And replayed itself before Moses in G-d not responding to his question about purity from death. The non-response was the greatest response of all.
Then, a while later, G-d continues and says, now that we have been silent together, after we stood in awe of the mystery, now we can talk. And they talk.
G-d shares with Moses the mystery of cycles. All cycles. The cycles of life and death; the cycles of life itself and even the cycles of death and beyond. Everything in existence – even silence and tzimtzum – is part of a cycle.
The secret of the cycle is that it is one continuum of energy. Every form of energy requires movement. Energy cannot be generated in a vacuum; it needs two opposite poles that cause tension and then resolution. Opposites attract.
Take the life force energy within our bodies. Our heartbeat is the result of two movements: Contraction and expansion. As is our breath: Inhaling and exhaling. Tension and then resolution, only to lead to a new cycle, and yet another.
This mystery is captured in the balance of mixing water and ashes (fire) in the mitzvah of the red heifer. Fire is the tension and water the resolution. Together they are the source of life itself.
You are alive when you have a healthy balance of angst and resolve. Yearning, reaching for something greater. Then integrating it. Too much tension (as in anxiety or worse) or too much resolution (as in animal bliss or worse!) results in hyperactivity or stagnation.
Yet, after all is said and done, the silence still remains. And it continues to permeate the conversation, as Moses makes abundantly clear in the continuing dialogue. After hearing G-d’s words about the red heifer and the water and ashes, Moses remains stunned: “Is this the way to achieve purity?” And G-d replies: “This is the supra-rational law; it is my decree and there is no existing creature who can comprehend this decree.”
All the discussions help us forge ahead, but they don’t turn us into G-d. They don’t, nor can they, intellectually enter into the “heart of darkness,” into the essential core of the tzimtzum. These places remain a Divine decree, impenetrable with conventional (or any) tools.
Quiet. Awe. Stillness. These are gifts.
The Midrash doesn’t tell us directly whether Moses’ face changed back to its original color, with its glowing radiance. But we can assume that it did (as one commentary states). But I would like to believe that even when it did, it never was the same.
Because yes, the greatest answer of all is the question itself.
Tags: human being, emotions, transformation, lying, Moses, internal, soul, wisdom, red heifer, free will, divine image, silence, independence, cycles, truth, fire, life and death, water, face, tzimtzum, mitzvah, Divine energy, story
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Biblical, Religion, Personal Life, Torah Personalities, Bamidbar, Spiritual, Chukat, Emotions & Psychology, Pain & Suffering, Moses | 6 Comments »
June 30th, 2005
— In Honor of the Shloshim (thirty-day period of mourning) of my dear father, Gershon Jacobson —
And the living shall take to heart
The journey of life has many twists and turns. Our travels will take us on many strange roads, lead us through uncharted terrain and bring us to many unknown places. We will each encounter a number of unexpected surprises.
Yet we don’t come unprepared. We were blessed with a roadmap to help us navigate our way through the labyrinth.
The Torah is this roadmap. As a cosmic blueprint of existence, it illuminates for us the dark pathways of our life passage and helps us find direction in an otherwise confused maze.
Bamidbar, the fourth book of the Torah, which we now are in midst of reading, is particularly focused on the journey of life. The Book of Bamidbar, literally desert or wilderness, outlines the journey of the Jewish people through the Sinai wilderness. Each chapter in this book conveys another vital message to us, in an accumulating sequence, about how we must travel our journey.
Last week we reviewed the first five portions of the book, Bamidbar, Nasso, Behaalotcho, Shelach and Korach. Briefly, the chapters tell us that life’s journey is traveling through a “terrifying” desert, with the objective to transform it. We have the power to be lifted to great places and to illuminate others, and inspire them to become emissaries in refining the world.
Yet, challenges abound, as this week’s chapter Korach reminds us. Lacking bittul (selflessness) rebellious voices turn us arrogant, and we can forget our mission, or even defy it for many “good” reasons.
This week we will continue with the latter five portions.
Chukat: “Chukah” refers to the body of supra-rational laws that we accept as axioms (in contrast to “meshpotim,” the rational laws, and “eidut,” the commemorative ones). “Chukah” therefore, is also rooted in the word “chakikah,” engraving. The axioms of life are not superimposed, but engraved in the very core of our foundations.
Chukat teaches us that there is only way to overcome the challenges of life’s voyage – and G-d knows that there are many, much more than we would prefer. That way is to accept, with unwavering determination the mission we are on; accept it as a given reality – as real and more real than the challenges themselves. Only such an internally engraved “chukah”-axiom can counterbalance the demoralizing fears and inhibitions, the gnawing doubts and misgivings, the voices of apathy and cynicism, imposed upon us in the weary desert journey.
And when we do, even death itself – the ultimate blow to mans’ conceited self-importance – can be conquered. Chukat reveals for us the secret of the Red Heifer to “purify” from death’s stranglehold: The purification came about through combining ash and water. The Chassidic mystics explain, that the power of life – and of all energy – comes from the firm commitment to the ebb and flow of life’s two poles, tension and resolution (fire and water).
To travel through this challenging world we need to learn how to swim the rhythms of life. To know when to thrust forward and when to pull back, when to go against the tide and when to allow it to carry you. A good swimmer knows when to not attempt to fight the powerful waves, and then when to surge ahead.
But all this technique is predicated upon the unshakeable “chukah” commitment to the mission itself.
Balak: Then comes a new challenge. Envy and the thirst for power. Balak attempts to hire the prophet Balaam to curse the Jewish people and prevent them from concluding their journey in the wilderness. Ultimately, Balaam ends up blessing the people instead.
Some of the greatest difficulties in life’s journey are the forces that surround us and demand our conformity. As you march forward with firm resolve, many lurking “Balak’s” will attempt to stop your advance. If you remain strong and resolute in your Divine mission, you have the power of the Divine that protects from all “curses,” and indeed transforms them into the greatest blessings.
But then, Balaam makes a “curtain call” and tells Balak to send the Moabite women to seduce the Jews. “You cannot destroy them. But they can destroy themselves,” is Balaam’s essential message.
The only response to self-destruction from within is —
Pinchas: Ultimate self sacrifice (mesirat nefesh). With zealousness and absolute humility, Pinchas defended the honor of G-d and stood up against His desecration.
Zealotry is not condoned in the Torah, for all its obvious potentials for abuse. The Torah’s method is to serve with gentleness not with aggressive zealousness. Torah is meant to bring peace to the world, not violence even in the name of G-d.
Yet, there are times that require a Pinchas to stand up to blatant abuse and preserve spiritual integrity. The condition for this type of zealousness however is selflessness, to ensure that the zeal has not tinge of self-interest. Thus, Pinchas was blessed with the covenant of peace; his zeal brought peace, not aggression.
Matot: The tribes are sometimes called shevatim, “branches.” At other times they are described as matot, “rods,” expressing their nature as offshoots from a common stem. While shevet and mateh are both synonyms for “branch,” the shevet is a pliant, flexible bough, while mateh connotes a stiff stick or rod.
In this chapter the titles “matot” is used to underscore the need for firmness and determination in carrying out the mission of our journey.
Yet there is also a need to balance firmness with flexibility, lest we get caught in the trap of stubborn obstinacy that does not allow us to grow and move forward. Coupled with firmness we need to have the ability to yield. A strong tree has both firm roots and growing branches.
Matot therefore has to be complemented by —
Massei: Movements. As the last portion of this book “Massei” (journeys) sums up all the forty-two journeys in the desert.
The bottom line is that whether you’re traveling through a desert or a garden the key is that you are traveling. You’re not stuck or paralyzed. Not frozen or locked – but on the move.
Movement, mobility is the sign of life. Not just physical movement but spiritual movement. There are people who move about all the time – and have racked up millions of “frequent-flyer” miles – but intellectually, emotionally, psychologically they may not have budged from their locked psyche.
Then there are those – some of whom I have witnessed – that can sit for hours in one place, but their minds, hearts and souls are traveling “billions of miles.”
Watch a true chassid pray under a Tallit (prayer garb). For hours on end he may remain in one physical place, while he travels through universes.
So there you have it, a book of journeys that tells us about our journey through our psychological wildernesses.
A ten-point plan that can help anyone of us make it through the toughest wastelands and the driest deserts.
And not just survive, but flourish.
Tags: Bamidbar, fire, Torah, Matos, water, self-sacrifice, Massei, violence, selflessness, bittul, life, flexibility, desert, reality, peace, journey, movement, ritual purity, wilderness, your mission, Pinchas, zealotry, ego, arrogance, death, red heifer, transformation, determination, blessings and curses, Korach, Jewish law, humility
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Religion, Personal Life, Bamidbar, Korach, Spiritual, Torah | No Comments »
