The Invulnerability of Vulnerability

For the first time in my forty-eight years I am an “ovol,” a griever. As I mourn the death of my father I am a new person. Things will never be the same for me. Sadly, I have tasted death – the death of my father and my best friend.

I have tried to console many souls in my life. But today I am the one in need of consolation.

Someone e-mailed me asking, challenging: “You have consoled many people over the years. Do you have the power to be consoled…?”

I am not sure I do. It’s much easier to be in control – even delusional control.

Another person wrote to me: “I highly recommend that you read a certain book that helped us tremendously through the death of our father several years ago. The name of the book is Toward A Meaningful Life, the chapter on Death and Grieving”…

I guess it’s easier to write than to read.

Indeed. I have written much about the darkness of the great “tzimtzum” – the awesome force that conceals from our eyes of flesh the spirit and truth in all things. I have counseled many people in ways to cope with loss. But it’s one thing to observe the “black hole” of existence from the perimeter. It’s quite another to stare at it from the tentacles of its core.

I just stood up from sitting “shiva” together with my beautiful family. Seven days we spent surrounded by a whizzing blur of visitors coming to honor my father and console us over our loss. The power of these seven days is that you are thrown into an engulfing womb of humanity, totally consuming your consciousness and overwhelming your neurons, so that you have no time to process anything but the thousands of different individuals trying to say a kind word.

Now as we reemerge into the “regular” world, I no longer see the material universe quite the same way. It was so nice holding on to the illusion of mortal immortality and going about my way as if things are just fine and will always remain so. Now I have experienced from the deepest recesses of my kishkes the impermanence of all things material – something that I have always known, but never like this.

It was comforting to know that my father (and mother, may she be well) was out there, even if I didn’t see him every day. No pressure on me – there’s always my father somewhere in the background. Now, I have to become the father.

My only solace is the soul.

Whenever I think of my father’s soul I smile. When I think of his body, his face, expressions and mannerisms I cry. When I immerse myself to perpetuate his spirit and aspirations I feel filled up. When I dwell on my grief I turn into a zombie.

I intend to take all my grief and tears and channel into a revolution. Anything less will simply not do.

I invite you to join me in this revolution.

It is customary to intensify our charitable acts in merit of a departed soul, especially in the first 30-day period after a passing when the soul is still present with us. There is a powerful tradition to establish an institution in the name of the soul, which serves as a “body” – a living memorial – that channels the spirit of the departed into a concrete force that affects our material world.

My father was a living institution. As a veteran journalist and commentator for some of the most eminent newspapers, and for the last 33 years editor and publisher of the Algemeiner Journal, the largest weekly Yiddish/English newspaper, my father stood at the forefront of public Jewish life for close to sixty years. He was a faithful witness of the destruction, rebirth and renaissance of Jews and Judaism; a living record of the most traumatic and exciting six decades in all of Jewish history; and an indispensable guide to understand the world in which we live.

We are dedicated to perpetuate his work into the 21st century.

As such we have established in the name and spirit of my father the Gershon Jacobson Jewish Continuity Fund to perpetuate the work and legacy of my father to battle for spiritual integrity and moral clarity. We intend to create vehicles that will serve as a powerful voice that will excite, provoke and inform. A voice that will resound with a clear vision; a platform of diverse opinions and ideas – offering some of the best writers and commentary on current events and issues. Its’ overall goal is to provide people from all walks of life tools to face the challenges of the 21^st century.

Please join us in this effort by making a donation to the Gershon Jacobson Jewish Continuity Fund, either on line by going to www.algemeiner.com/donate, or by calling 718.774.7610.

I also invite you to check out our new website, www.algemeiner.com, dedicated to the soul of my beloved father, to study the world through the lenses of some of the finest scholars and communicators living today. The website will offer a penetrating and stimulating perspective on the events and issues of our times.

My father was a battler, a warrior. He always knew that he was on a mission. As I think back on his life, that awareness strikes me a like a tidal wave. It even frightens me at times. He never wavered. With the passion of a soldier he was always on call. Undaunted. Fearless. Daring. Audacious. That was my father.

I just was looking at an old photo of my father. His face exuded an innocence that few could see. Like a child: Pure. Seamless. With all his incredible people skills, he had an unexpected shyness, that could startle you. With all his buzz of activity, he bore a deep silence, impenetrable.

Where did his inner peace come from? He always knew that he was on a mission. That unwavering fact overrode all the vicissitudes. His mission was to be a voice. A voice of reason, vision and clarity. He was dedicated to spiritual integrity. He battled for Jewish continuity.

Dr. Norman Lamm tells me, that he saw my father not as a great newspaperman, not as a scholar, but as a personality. A personality – now that’s something to think about.

But where did my father get this inner fortitude?

My father’s passing has given me a little insight into this mystery. My father lost his parents at a young age: His father at age 19 and mother at age 21. I now begin to know how he must have felt all these years. The feeling of loss never goes away, but you have two choices: Either you remain broken because of it; or you become resolute. My father chose the latter. He became fearless. Once you experience death of things you love and are attached to, you can come out of the fire with nothing to ever fear again. My father embraced his mission wholeheartedly and never looked back.

I will attempt to learn from that.

Yes, I am quite vulnerable these days. But perhaps therein lies the secret to invulnerability.

I will miss this man. I truly will. But I will not let him miss me.

***

On behalf of myself and my entire family, I thank you deeply for your comforting words in these trying days.

All who blessed shall be blessed. May you be blessed with many healthy years together with intact families, and the wisdom to use them to the fullest.

Why Is G-d So Angry?

– In Honor of Lag B’Omer, the Yahrzeit of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai –

From my mailbox:

Dear Rabbi Jacobson,

I am an avid reader of your weekly e-mails and appreciate your personal and spiritual take on what otherwise would be for me irrelevant tradition. Having grown up in an observant home with no warmth or spirituality (and worse), I came to resent anything that was “dry ritual.” I therefore am very grateful to you for having opened up a resonating perspective that I never knew was there.

In this vein I would like to ask you how you would explain the many curses used in the Torah. What possible benefit – besides fear and alienation – can curses contain?

As you know, many people are easily turned away from Biblical thought when they read the terrible misfortunes that will befall people for their sins. It is demoralizing and creates the impression that G-d is a very angry entity, filled with wrath and vengeance.

Some would even argue that it is Rabbis like you who later came and “softened” up the Biblical version of G-d and turned it into a spiritual and loving relationship. But the G-d of the Bible doesn’t seem like someone you could or would want to have a relationship with?!

I am sorry for being so blunt or perhaps disrespectful, but I have learned from your writing that you welcome such questions and appreciate the direct approach rather than masquerades.

Thank you for listening,

[signed]

————–

Dear [signed],

Thank you for your trusting words, and yes, I do appreciate your direct question, and will respond in a more formal tone in the following essay on this week’s Torah portion.

This week’s Biblical Torah portion enumerates forty-nine (!) curses that will befall those that transgress the law (Leviticus 26:14-43).

For the record, this is the first of three places in the Torah where we read what is known as the “tochacha” (the admonition or rebuke), which describes the harsh consequences of forsaking the Divine commandments. The second and third are in the beginning and the end of the book of Deuteronomy (Devorim and Ki Tovo respectively).

Traditionally these sections are read quickly and in a lower tone than the rest of the Torah reading. No one is invited up to the Torah (in an “aliya”) for these sections. Instead, the Torah “reader” unceremoniously recites the blessings before and after the reading, but he is not called up.

Which of course brings us to the big question: Why would G-d want to curse His own children?!

A bizarre Talmudic story about Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai will help illuminate us. Rabbi Shimon once sent his son, Rabbi Elozor, to a couple of distinguished sages for a blessing.

The sages conferred upon him a strange string of “blessings:”

“May it be His will that you sow and not reap. That you bring in [merchandise] and not let out [sell it], and that you invest and not have a return. That your house be destroyed and your inn settled. That your table be confused and you should not see a new year.” (!!)

Rabbi Elozor returned to his father shocked: “Not only did they not bless me, he exclaimed, “they have caused me anguish!” “What did they tell you?” asked Rabbi Shimon. After Rabbi Elozor repeated their words, Rabbi Shimon reassured him: “All their words are really blessings!”

And he explained: “‘Sow and not reap’ means that you will have children who will not die in your lifetime. ‘Bring in and not let out’ means that you will bring in daughters-in-law [your children will marry] and your sons who married them will not die in their lifetime. ‘Invest and not have a return’ means that your daughters will marry and their husbands will not die, resulting in your daughters having to return home. ‘Your house be destroyed and your inn settled’ means that your grave (which is called a ‘house’) will not come to use and you will live long in this world which is compared to an inn. ‘Your table be confused’ with many sons and daughters. And ‘you should not see a new year’– your wife will not die and you will therefore not have to ‘see a new year,’ i.e. remarry and spend the ‘first year’ with a new wife.”

This episode is all nice and fine. But the commentaries are troubled by the obvious question: Why did the esteemed sages not bless Rabbi Elozor in open and direct terms, and instead cloaked their blessing in cryptic language that only Rabbi Shimon was able to decipher?!

Several different explanations are proffered:

1. The sages did so in order to challenge and sharpen Rabbi Elozor (Maharsha).
2. They did so in order to honor Rabbi Shimon, that he be the one that interprets, and thus blesses his son. In effect Rabbi Elozor would be blessed twice (Rif. Iyun Yaakov).
3. A blessing is more effective when it isn’t pronounced out loud in public (three people is considered public) (Iyun Yaakov).
4. They did so for Rabbi Elozor’s good. At times when a blessing is stated outright, the “voice of judgment” (of the “prosecuting angels”) challenges the merit of the recipient, questioning whether he truly deserves this blessing. The sages therefore disguised their blessing in language that sounds like a curse, knowing that the “prosecuting angels” cannot read their minds, so as not to provoke and stir up any resistance to these blessings (Nezer Hakodesh, cited in Eitz Yosef).

Even after all these explanations, it still seems odd that the sages would use the language of curses to convey a blessing! To elicit Rabbi Shimon’s interpretation or to mask their intentions from the “prosecutors” could have easily been achieved by using neutral language. Why the need to use terms that can seem “offensive”?! True, a blessing “disguised” as a curse is easier to “smuggle” by the forces of judgment, but it still requires explanation.

To understand the deeper meaning of these blessings dressed up in the “garments” of “curses” requires a penetrating look into the forces that lay beneath the surface of existence in general. Which will also explain why of all people it was Rabbi Shimon who illuminated the inner meaning of these blessings.

The deeper meaning – and inner dimension – of all experience is to be found in what is called the “inner wisdom.”

There are two types of wisdom, which correspond to two types of experience:

1)     Conscious or revealed wisdom – which comprehends conscious or revealed experience. This is the wisdom of most sciences – physical, social and political – the understanding of our empirical and sensory experiences (what we see, hear, taste, touch and smell).

2)     Unconscious or hidden wisdom – which relates to the unconscious and hidden dimensions of reality, the suprasensory energy that makes existence tick.

The Torah too has these two corresponding dimensions: The Outer Torah, it’s revealed dimension (nigleh), and the Inner Torah, hidden beneath the surface (nistar).

On the surface things may appear one way. Beneath the surface they may appear entirely different, sometimes even diametrically opposed as to the way they seem on the outside.

Take yourself as an example: How much of your outside (body language, facial expressions, conversations) expresses your inner self? Indeed, the deeper you travel into the intimate recesses of your psyche, the fewer words we have to express ourselves. Sometimes a laugh, a cry, an “oy-vey” expresses more than volumes can. On the deepest level silence is often the most profound expression of all (the “silent voice” in the words of the Zohar).

This is because the outer world and the inner world are two entirely different, even dichotomous, paradigms. How does your conscious match up with your unconscious? Do you even want to know?

Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi (known as the Alter Rebbe, author of Tanya and founder of Chabad Chassidus), in his Likkutei Torah, uses this principle to explain that the “curses” in our Torah chapter are “in truth, nothing but blessings”, blessings in disguise.

On an ostensible level – the conscious, revealed dimension – they appear as curses. On this level they too serve a “blessed” purpose to attack the “negative” forces of existence. No one would consider it a curse when white blood cells mercilessly destroy harmful bacteria in order to protect the body from infection.

But in an even deeper dimension – in the unconscious, hidden dimension – the inner workings of these apparent “curses” are nothing but profound blessings, so profound that they can only be expressed in a concealed and disguised fashion. They are actually deeper blessings that the ones we can openly recognize! [Rabbi Schneur Zalman goes on to explain the blessings in some of the ostensible “curses” in our chapter].

The Tzemach Tzedek in his gloss on Likkutei Torah of his grandfather, Rabbi Schneur Zalman, equates this concept with the above related Talmudic story with the blessings “disguised” as curses: These blessings originate in the unconscious level of experience.

For this reason the blessings need to be concealed not in neutral terms but in “cursed” language: Only then are they truly concealed. The formula works like this: The more sublime and intimate the experience, the more concealed it is. Therefore, the most sublime blessings of all are couched in the most dreadful terms.

This also explains why Rabbi Shimon was the one to recognize the profound blessings bestowed on his son, Rabbi Elozor:

Rabbi Shimon is the primary source of the “Inner Torah.” Coupled with his Talmudic genius, Rabbi Shimon is the preeminent mystic of his times; the author of the Holy Zohar – the classic text of the inner wisdom of Kabbala.

Rabbi Shimon therefore was most fittingly able to see beneath the surface of the sages’ expressions and reveal their inner meaning – the profound blessings they carried, blessings that come from the “hidden” and “unconscious” cosmic levels, greater than blessings that are expressed in a revealed way.

One way to explain the power of Rabbi Elozor’s blessings: In foresight the sages saw that Rabbi Elozor in his lifetime would face difficult challenges with his children, including perhaps the horror of losing a child in his lifetime or other forms of premature deaths of children. In order to preempt any such tragedies, the sages ingenuously and intentionally used words that could sound like just such curses, so as to so-to speak “fulfill” (in physical expressions) these premonitions. But in truth they infused these words with the deeper meaning and intention of blessings, as spelled out by Rabbi Shimon. In effect, by using these negative expressions the sages bestowed the greatest of all blessings on Rabbi Elozor: They released him of his need to actually experience any such loss, and instead be blessed with good life and marriage for his and his children.

In practical terms that each of us can relate to, we too must recognize that in our lives we receive two types of blessings, corresponding to our two forms of experience: Conscious and unconscious.

There are blessings that are apparent and revealed for all to see. But then there are blessings that are camouflaged, sometimes in “garments” that don’t appear to the naked eye to be blessed.

But the naked eye is just that: Naked. It sees very little and understands even less.

These deeper blessings can take on the shape of formidable challenges in our lives. They can take on the shape of “special children” (as discussed in last week’s article), or perhaps a loss that at the moment seems irreplaceable.

Lest it be misunderstood, by all means we always ask for revealed blessings, and we deserve to see with our naked eyes the gifts of life. Yet, when we are faced with a seemingly insurmountable difficulty, never underestimate the possibility of it containing profound blessings, and your ability to reveal them.

Yes, after all is said and done, we were given the power to reveal the “unrevealable.” G-d created and gave us the resources, but He concealed them in this world of ours. Everything valuable in the world lies hidden. From precious stones to oil, from hidden potential to genius talents. We have the ability – and responsibility – to excavate these resources and bring them to the surface.

On Lag B’Omer, the yahrzeit and day of celebration of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai (also known by his acronym: Rashbi), his ability to see and reveal the inside becomes more accessible to us.

A concluding story:

As a child, Rabbi DovBer of Lubavitch, along with the rest of the congregation, would listen to the weekly Torah reading read by his father, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi. One year, his father was out of town on the Shabbat when the chapter Ki Tavo is read, a chapter that includes a section of admonition (not 49 but 98 curses). After hearing the Admonition read by the substitute Torah reader, the child was so emotionally upset that even a month later his father was unsure whether his son would be able to fast on Yom Kippur. The child was later asked, “Why were you not disturbed this way when the admonition was read in past years?” The child replied, “When father reads it, no curses are heard.”

Yes, it all depends on who’s doing the reading. We all project our attitudes on others. When “father reads” – the father that see the inner soul even in the darkest places – we hear blessings.

May we all open our ears to hear how “father” reads and reveals the profound blessings in all of our lives.

Unique Souls

With all the challenges that we face on a daily basis, one can’t help but wonder once in a while: “Is it worth it?” Are our commitments and obligations – and all the hard work we put into whatever activity we are invested in – worth all the effort?

Then there are magical moments that make it all clear. Moments of truth – that cut through the superficiality of things – and expose a real experience. How you can make a real difference in the world.

I recently had such a moment. (In the work I do I have been blessed to have many such moments in my life; may you be blessed with them as well).

Following the article Can We Change Our Personalities? I received many meaningful replies. One that stood out was a heart wrenching e-mail from a mother of a bi-polar child.

With her permission I include it below, followed by my reply (with additions). May you benefit from it as much as I did.

If you have any experiences or thoughts that you would like to share about the issue of “special children” or “special adults” (not handicapped or impaired, read on) – please send them to me. This issue is a critical one, and many people could use strong support. It’s very hard to describe the deep loneliness and isolation, not to mention the guilt and feelings of failure, which families experience when dealing with “special children.” We are here to help each other. Your words may therefore be of great benefit to others (your confidentiality is always guaranteed).

From: Judith Lederman

Subject: Re: Can We Change Our Personalities? By Simon Jacobson

>>If, for example, someone is born with an angry gene, or acquired angry fits at young age – either due to overexposure to an angry parent, or to deeply embedded resentment built up over the years – can we actually expect that this person will cease reacting with bouts of fury? Or if another is stingy by nature (first or second nature) can she ever become generous?<< (quote from last week’s article, Can We Change Our Personalities?)

Dear Rabbi Jacobson,

I enjoy your emails but have a problem with this premise. My son was born with the angry gene. It’s called Bipolar Disorder–and it’s an illness that causes him to have rages. His diagnosis came at age 8 and his first suicide attempt was at age 5. My father-in-law had the gene as well–and was given away by his mother at age 3 to be raised by a Rav in Poland. She just couldn’t handle him. My husband has a touch of it too. And my family has been blown apart by the illness.

I see where you are going with the nature/nurture argument. But moods – especially the kind you are describing here – can be caused by brain chemicals. We know so little about how the brain functions – and why these chemicals are triggered either in excess or in inadequate doses – but we do know that frequently rages, moods, depression, are indeed “uncontrollable” (but medication and psychotherapy do help the person maintain control).

I know that the Torah commands us to change our moods at certain times of the year (and even gives us “tips” and guidelines to help us maintain moods — e.g., no music during sfira [the 49 day period of counting the Omer] or mourning periods or drinking Ad Lo Yodah [beyond comprehension] on Purim) but there ARE moods that need more than Torah guidelines, and B”H [thank G-d], He has opened our eyes to the miracle of brain chemistry and has given us insights and medications to help address mental illness.

Even a Divine Bipolar Personality may need a little help (beyond tfillah [prayer])…The premise that moods are completely controllable is one that can actually HURT the community at large and keep them from getting the support they need to deal with mental illness in their loved ones.

Judith Lederman – Author of The Ups & Downs of Raising a Bipolar Child: A Survival Guide for Parents

Good Shabbos!

————–

From: Simon Jacobson

To: Judith Lederman

Subject: Re: Can We Change Our Personalities? By Simon Jacobson

Dear Judith,

Thank you for your insightful e-mail. Your points are well taken and well stated.

On a personal note, my heart goes out to you and I am in awe of your strength to face your challenges with such dignity. I commend you for channeling your experiences into the book you authored that can and must be of great help to many others facing the challenge of a bi-polar child.

I agree with all you write and am glad that you qualified my comments. For the benefit of others, do we have your permission to post your thoughts (with or without your name as you see fit)?

I should have spelled it out, but my article was not addressing personality traits that are not in our control — like the color of our eyes, or chemical imbalances.

Obviously, each of us has inherent genes, traits or other forces that are beyond our control. Yet, the premise of my article is applicable to all people and all situations: If we are mere human mortals then fundamental change is as impossible as a tiger changing its stripes; however, being Divine entities allows us unscripted possibilities.

These possibilities include changing or transcending some of our “natural” and “inherent” faculties. But they also include the ability to create something new and unexpected, and actually “change” even areas that don’t seem possible to directly change at least in the technical sense.

Even a child or adult with bi-polar is a Divine being with unique strengths and challenges. We may never understand G-d’s mysterious ways, but we do know that this child is special and has an indispensable role to play in the Divine choreography. The child — and the surrounding adults — may not have control over his/her moods and ups and downs, but we do have control over our attitude how to react and treat the child. Too often adults, in their own discomfort, insecurity or ignorance, are embarrassed or judgmental of a special child and do mistakenly expect mood control, which hurts the child and the community (as you correctly state). Basically, many people project their own distortions on mentally (or otherwise) challenged children.

The Torah approach is that we always have control and choice to treat the child with the dignity s/he deserves and allow the child to shine with true Divine beauty. A child who is challenged in a particular area is blessed with other powerful strengths – strengths that were not given to those without these challenges. But we have to learn to look for and appreciate these strengths, and not impose our own views on what makes someone special.

And when we change our attitude and “think different,” we actually do change “natural” reality: We change our own personality — and even the child’s personality — for the better.

Wondrous things can be elicited from a child treated with true dignity. I just heard about a mother who ignored all the pessimistic advice from doctors and professionals, and engaged her autistic child with persistence, reaching and reaching and never giving up, even when she was mocked by all the so-called experts. Her child today, an adult, is still faced with unique challenges, but what she had done for him is considered miraculous in doctors’ eyes. Her sensitivity and love brought out dimensions in the child that no one thought possible.

The Talmud calls a blind person “sagi nohor,” [one who has] “abundant light” (sic)! Ostensibly this is out of respect and sensitivity: Instead of using a negative title (“blind”) that implies the inability to see any light, we say someone who has “abundant light.”

But isn’t this expression a bit insulting? It’s like calling a lame person a “sprinter.” Explain our mystical sages in Chassidic thought that “sagi nohor” is actually an accurate description of blindness. Proper eyesight is dependent on the correct balance of light and shade. Parts of the eye serve as a filter that allows in an image with just the right amount of light without blinding us. When too much light enters we are blinded. Blindness is therefore a form of “sagi nohor,” allowing too much light to enter the eye with no veils to shroud and shade the blinding light.

Taking this one step further: The blind have more power and light than the seeing-eyed. I have met quite a few “vision impaired” people who see more than most of us with open eyes.

I will never forget the moving words of the Rebbe almost thirty years ago when he spoke to a group of wounded Israeli war veterans, many of them sitting in wheelchairs. In sum he said that he objects to the term “disability.” “If a person has been deprived of a limb or a faculty, this itself indicates that G-d has given him special powers to overcome the limitations this entails, and to surpass the achievements of ordinary people.”

“You are not ‘disabled’ or ‘handicapped,’” the Rebbe told them that warm August Thursday in 1976, “but special and unique, as you possess potentials that the rest of us do not.”

“I therefore suggest,” he continued, adding with a smile – “of course it is none of my business, but Jews are famous for voicing opinions on matters that do not concern them – that you should no longer be called nechei Yisrael (‘the disabled of Israel,’ as designated by the IDF) but metzuyanei Yisrael (‘the special of Israel’).”

“Special children” is not just a euphemism. It expresses the true power of these children (or adults): They are not disabled people; they are special – blessed with extraordinary strengths that others simply do not have. We have the power to tap their enormous potential only when we begin to look at them and at life in general with “new” eyes. No informed by the trappings and myopia of human subjective experiences, mortal, static and dying, but by the perspective of the dynamic Divine, living, renewing and always blossoming.

So we always have a choice: Do we look at life only with our sensory tools or with deeper faculties. If we measure experience merely on a sensory level, then beauty, quality and other virtues are defined by the limits of human senses – beauty is only what looks, sounds, tastes, smells or feels beautiful. And what about all of the dimensions that can never be seen or heard, smelled, tasted or touched with our tangible faculties?

We therefore have another way of experiencing life: With Divine tools. Then we can see and hear fresh and new dimensions, undefined by conventional parameters.

Music, poetry, love –- and above all, the search for the Divine – are but a few of the transcendental experiences that express the infinite wellsprings of the spiritual.

I thank you again for sharing your moving words.

Blessings and best wishes,

Simon Jacobson

>>For the benefit of others, do we have your permission to post your comments (with or without your name as you see fit)?<<

—————-

Absolutely print my post and clarify that you meant to address personality traits. You may use my name…

You are right about his strengths. He is a brilliant poet. 

Thanks for your response.

Judy

Bioluminescent Dinoflagellates and Casino Lights

Ritz Carlton, San Juan, Puerto Rico — Passover 2005

Ok, so what would you like to hear about: Old San Juan? The beautiful pool surrounded by the warm Caribbean? Or perhaps about the Passover Seder? Did I forget to mention the casino…

Man, how the real things get obscured in the layers upon layers of “havlei olam hazeh” (aka empty worldly pleasures).

But as the royal optimist, entering a manure filled barn, reminds us: There must be a pony in here somewhere!

Within all this sumptuous opulence there must be a G-d!

Well, when you look deep enough you’re bound to discover Divine riches, especially among the wonderful people who have joined together to celebrate Passover in Puerto Rico (port of the rich).

Sure enough, Puerto Rico is host to one of the most spectacular Bioluminescent Bays in the world. Every object that enters the water in this unusual bay begins to glow in the night. The mysterious blue-green light is created by microorganisms, which thrive in this unique bay, also known as Phosphorescent Bay. The bay contains up to 720,000 single-celled bioluminescent dinoflagellates per gallon of water. These half-plant, half-animal organisms emit a flash of bluish-green light when agitated at night, lighting up submerged objects with an aqua-green aura.

The high concentration of these creatures – called Pyrodimium bahamense, in case you were wondering – can create enough light to read a book from.

The flashes of light are believed to be a defense mechanism used by the plankton to scare off or confuse predators — giving the plankton enough time to escape. The glow is created from the combination of a protein and enzyme that occurs within the organism.

A trip into the Phosphorescent Bay on a moonless night is a magical experience. Fish flash by in dark water, boats take on a silver rim of light and a swim is like floating through stardust. Lie on your back and make luminescent snow angels. Raise your hand from the water and watch pellets of light drop back into the sea. A halo surrounds every piece of matter that enters the water.

Above all, these illuminating waters show us the true nature of existence. Every creature gives off light; every organism a glow. We are all bodies of energy, waiting to be ignited, waiting to shine forth.

I meet many wonderful people here over Passover. Each person radiates with his or her own particular glow – if you look with the right eyes.

But then there are other lights: The flashing neon of the casino world. What a contrast?! The Phosphorescent Bay brings out the light inside each of us; our movements generate an aura. The man-made artificial casino lights drain us of our inner light, transforming us into mechanical addicts, feeding into our lowest common denominator, as our wallets are depleted.

It’s one thing to see the sublime in the sea of light. But how do you find G-d at smoking blackjack tables, mindless slot machines, obsessive roulette and crap shots? Is there anything spiritual about all this escapist manipulation, camouflaged in the fantasy world of oxygen pumped, timeless oasis of the casino floor?

There must be a G-d in here somewhere…

Yes, I meet many people exuding energy. Sometimes our luminescence is obscured by our own vanity and pursuit of instant thrills. But if you want to see the glow in another you have to allow your glow to do the looking. Body sees body; heart feels heart; soul sees soul.

There is something dead – and deadening – about the material world. It dulls the sparkle in our eyes, the enchantment in our spirits. We need to exert ourselves to dig through the crusted layers of dust and discover the warm glow within.

We once left Egypt – all the constraints and limitations (mitzrayim) of life – and now we return to it in a new form. Same old enslavement, just now it’s in the shape of “comfort zones.”

I look around the spa and all the lotions it offers – before showering, during showering, after showering, after-after showering. The saunas, steam bathes and Jacuzzis, followed by dressing in a new set of dinner clothes to eat a Mexican barbecue on an outdoor veranda under the Puerto Rican sky.

Is this freedom or another form of bondage?

I guess that it’s up to us.

Our freedom today allows us unprecedented opportunities to discover deeper light. It offers us new ways to burst forth with new forms of emanation.

With no enemies from without (Egyptians or otherwise) we must fight the enemy of complacency, and use our free time and energy to illuminate our environment with an aura that our persecuted ancestors could no more than dream of (even if that).

I wonder if there are any dinoflagellates in the casinos. Or is there light obfuscated by the brilliant wattage of manipulative artificiality?

And what about the natural light of our souls? Where does that it go and how does it feel when we allow the light of mediocrity to dominantly shine?

Passover is a good time to find out what your soul has to say.

Dear Rabbi Jacobson,

I would like you to know that I attended a Passover Seder for the first time in my life last year as a result of your workshop at the National Arts Club, The Soul of the Seder: 15 Steps to Personal Freedom. A friend insisted that I come to the workshop, and frankly I went along begrudgingly, completely skeptical of any religious presentation.

But to your credit I had, against my inclination, an illuminating and inspiring experience, which motivated me to attend a Seder. I had never imagined that the Seder had such a rich and profound spiritual structure.

So now, as we approach Passover, I would like to challenge you to help me and others make the most of the Seder experience. What mindset should one have at the Seder? How do we bridge the traditional rituals – eating Matza, maror and drinking the four cups of wine – with their spiritual counterparts?

Thank you for opening up the inner world of Jewish tradition to me and so many others.

Blessings for a healthy holiday,

[signed]

—————

No body can function without a soul. The body of the Passover Seder is well known and documented. We assemble a Seder plate, go through fifteen steps, eat matzo and maror (bitter herbs), drink four cups of wine, recite the Haggada, ask and answer questions. But what is the soul of all these activities?

The objective of the entire Passover Seder and holiday is to achieve one thing: Transcendence. “Mitzrayim” (Hebrew for Egypt) means boundaries, constraints and limitations. Exodus from mitzrayim is freedom from bondage to our fears, inhibitions and addictions.

How can we use the Seder rituals as tools to achieve personal transcendence; to experience emotional and spiritual freedom?

To do so requires preparation and thought – setting the tone for the entire Seder experience.

The entire Haggada is structured in question and answer form: The children begin by asking the four questions, and the adults respond by telling them the story in all its detail. Indeed, the word “Haggada” itself means “to relate,” to tell the story.

Questions and answers are one of the most powerful tools we have to explore and probe, to unearth and discover the true nature of things. Often the right question is even more important than the actual answer. “The wise question” – we are told – “is half the answer.”

So asking the right questions is crucial to accessing the powerful Seder experience and truly have a unique experience on this night, which is “different than all other nights of the year.”

Like buckets that allow us to draw out precious fuel deeply embedded in the ground, good questions help us burrow into our psyches and our traditions and draw out life transforming experiences.

In this spirit, here is a suggestion of some questions to ask yourself before and during the Seder to help you tap into the rich resources of the Seder night.

The four questions asked at the Seder capture the primary ingredients that distinguish Passover night from all other nights of the year.

These four questions have both a body and a soul.

The body of the questions:

“Why is this night different from all other nights?”

1)     “On all nights we need not dip even once, on this night we do so twice.”

2)     “On all nights we eat chametz (leaven) or matzah, on this night [we eat] only matzah.”

3)     “On all nights we eat any kind of vegetables, on this night maror (bitter herbs).”

4)     “On all nights we eat either sitting upright or reclining, on this night we all recline.”

(This order of the questions is based on the Arizal’s order and the one that I grew up with. There are other equally legitimate orders).

These four elements – Dipping, Matzah, Maror, Reclining – represent four fundamental soul searching questions that each us must ask of ourselves.

Dipping is the sublimation of our material lives (symbolized by the vegetable, the “fruit of the earth”) to spiritual ends. Like immersion in a mikveh (a ritual bath), in which we submerge our bodies in a higher state of being.

Matzo is the “food” of humility.

Maror is empathy.

Reclining is symbolic of comfort and freedom. Instead of the tightness of sitting upright, we let go and relax.

Thus, the soul of the four questions compels us to ask the following questions:

1)     Do I see materialism as an end in itself, or “dipped” – as a means to spiritual goals?

2)     Do I have humility?

3)     Do I have empathy and compassion?

4)     Am I comfortable with myself?

Obviously, each of these questions is but a mere headline to a series of more comprehensive questions that evaluate our psyches, and help us recognize what keeps us enslaved and what we need to experience transcendence.

1)    Dipping – Evaluation of the balance between the material and spiritual dimensions of your life

a.   Do I value the importance of “dipping”?

b.   What are my spiritual goals?

c.   How do I use my work or my other physical activities as a stepping-stone to higher objectives?

d.   How do I maintain this “dipping” all year round? For example: Giving charity daily.

e.   Why is it difficult for me to sublimate my body needs and instant gratification?

2)    Matzah – Evaluation of your ego vs. your humility and modesty

a.   Do I understand the importance of humility?

b.   Do I appreciate that it is the single most important element in freeing myself from any fear and emotional resistance?

c.   Are there any areas in my life where I feel more humble? Why? And what areas need special work to tame my ego?

d.   What is the root of my arrogance? Is it due to my strengths or my weaknesses?

e.   Is my arrogance just a smokescreen for my insecurity?

3)    Maror – Evaluation of your level of empathy and compassion

a.   How emphatic am I to others? To myself?

b.   Does my compassion come with “strings attached,” i.e. my own personal gain?

c.   When was the last time that I shed tears for another’s predicament?

d.   Do I realize that empathy equals sensitivity – the very essence of being alive: feeling and experiencing the heartbeat of all life? That when I have no compassion to strangers, it will also impact the kindness I show to myself and to close ones?

4)    Reclining – Evaluation of your self esteem

a.   Why am I not always comfortable in my own skin?

b.   Are there times or situations when I reach a deep calm? When I am sure of myself?

c.   If yes, do I understand what brings that level of tranquility? And can I access it at will?

d.   Are my friends and associates adding to my tension or to my peace of mind? Do I put myself in situations that feed my insecurity?

e.   Can I for this one night lean back and recline, knowing that I put my trust in G-d?

The questions go on. These are but a sampling of questions – a catalyst – that each of us can use to enhance our Seder experience. Allow yourself to ask ourselves as few or as many questions that help you personalize – really personalize – the Passover Seder.

Remember, even if you cannot answer all these questions or answer them satisfactorily, the mere fact that you allow yourself to enter the arena of your soul and your emotions is in itself the first step of freedom.

Also remember that every experience is only as powerful as your preparation for it. For this reason we begin the formal preparations to Passover (and all holidays) thirty day before the holiday. We begin to study its laws, and above all – to prepare ourselves spiritually to the special experience ahead of us.

Therefore, it may be wise to prepare for the Seder with the following exercise:

Before Passover begins – anytime this Friday before sundown – take a piece of paper and list:

1)     Three inhibitions (chamatz; mitzrayim) you would like to rid yourself of. Make sure that these are three internal impediments or fears, not people or situations outside of yourself (like an intolerable parent or an obnoxious boss).

2)     Four aspirations and dreams you would like to achieve. Four areas (like the four cups of wine) in which you wish to celebrate freedom. Here too focus not on the means (like making a lot of money) but on the ends.

3)     Three areas in which you are especially egotistic, and three (like the three matzot) in which you have a special dose of humility.

As you go through the Seder, drinking the cups of wine and eating the matzo and maror, think about these lists.

May we all be blessed with a meaningful and transcendent Passover – one which allows us to “pass over” our fears and limits (perceived or real) and experience true, sweet and lasting freedom.

We must always know that the ultimate secret to real emancipation lies in our sublimation, humility, empathy and self-respect – all made possible when we recognize that we are not self-made creatures, but part of a higher reality, as eloquently stated in the first and foundation of the Ten Commandments: I am your G-d Who freed you from Mitzrayim.

A very happy Passover to you and yours,

Simon Jacobson and all of us at The Meaningful Life Center

Are You a Square or a Circle?

Years ago I taught an introductory course on Jewish mysticism (also known as Chassidus or Kabbalah) to a class of high school seniors. In one of the written tests I asked them to describe in their own few words the difference between various entities: the difference between body and soul; between the animal force and Divine force; between material and transcendental needs; between the secular and the sacred; between heaven and earth; between selfishness and selflessness.

I was struck by the large number of answers that distinguished between all these categories simply with the words “evil” and “good.” The body is bad and the soul is good. The material is bad, and the transcendent is good. 20 out of 30 questions were answered with the one word “good” or “bad.”

Children think in terms of black and white: Good and bad; sweet and sour; light and dark. Young, undeveloped minds don’t yet appreciate the nuances of life; the gray areas; the ambiguous and the ambivalent.

There is purity in the innocence of simplicity. And many adults would do well to not lose that enchantment. But life is complex as well.

Western thought is often criticized for being linear, especially relative to Eastern thought. Linear defines a very structured and organized way of looking at things. Relentless cause and effect is the heartbeat of phenomena. In Eastern thought reality is seen in an amorphous state; things do not have stark definitions. Linear, logical thinking is limited, and paradox is the closest reflection on the true nature of existence.

In truth, to truly appreciate life in its entirety we need to embrace both dimensions into one integrated whole.

In modern day physics, for instance, we now know that on the macroscopic level (the world that we perceive and experience with our five senses) grand order and design drives the machine of the universe. Newtonian physics – defining phenomena in terms of the “billiard ball” cause and effect – stands as the dominant way of looking at the world. However, on a microscopic level it has been clearly demonstrated that reality functions very much in an amorphous “state of probability.” In the inner world things are not quite defined in the same structured way as in the outer world.

Indeed, in Kabbalistic thought there is the cosmic distinction between “circles” (iggulim) and “lines” (yosher). A line is made up of defined points, structured in a clear order of higher and lower. By contrast a circle is one continuous flow, with no top or bottom. All of existence is made up of both lines and circles: The outer world is driven by order and organization – the linear structure, that evolves in an orderly sequence. But beneath the surface, in the “engine room” of the universe, the driving force is “circular” energy.

In Kabbala there is even a metaphor of the “square within the circle” and the “circle within the square,” because the linear and the circular of existence is intertwined into one seamless whole.

Thus we live in a world that is both orderly and paradoxical.

As children we may perceive life in black and white terms. As we mature we learn that life is far more nuanced and complex.

When asked the question: “How is your life?” a child usually answers “good” or “bad” based on his/her emotions of the moment. An adult (not just a chronological one) would answer: “Some thing are great; some not so great; some so-so; and the bulk is in between, and can go either way.” In other words, life is complex. There is no such thing as good without bad, and vice versa.

The challenge is to appreciate the flow and ride the waves.

The holiday of Passover celebrates the paradox of life – the structure and the unstructured; the defined and the undefined. We don’t just remember the exodus but also the exile. We don’t just recreate the joy, but also the pain. We drink wine, but also taste bitter herbs. We respect the process – the entire process – from the lowest points to the highest, and we recognize how it replays itself in our lives today.

The Passover Seder orbits around the three matzos and the four cups of wine. Matzo is the “food of the impoverished;” wine is the drink of royalty. Eating matzo is symbolic of our humility; wine demonstrates our proud sense of freedom.

Are we kings or paupers on Passover night?

The answer is both.

True humility brings one to true greatness.

That is the ultimate truth of life.

As we approach Passover and prepare to celebrate the Jewish Exodus from Egypt, we are reminded again not only of the victory but also of the misery. We don’t only drink wine and eat matzo – symbols of freedom – but we also taste the moror (bitter herbs) to remember the bitter suffering. Moreover, we also recollect the plagues and destruction wreaked upon the Egyptians.

All this brings to mind one of the timeless questions – and fundamental myths – about the Bible: The seemingly endless cycle of anger, violence, wrath, jealousy and vengeance – all on the part of the Divine. What kind of G-d is so punitive? And who would want to embrace a violent and furious G-d?!…

We thus bring you here a recent question from a reader about the grotesqueries of the Passover story and Rabbi Jacobson’s reply.

We thus title this week’s column:

Divine Wrath

Is the Bible a Violent Book?

Dear Rabbi,

With Passover just around the corner you will shortly be reading again the Haggada, which tells of a loving God who put his chosen people in slavery. … He then allowed Pharaoh to kill all the Jewish babies and save Moses so that he could free the Jewish slaves. God then hit the Egyptian people (who were his creation also) with ten plagues. Finally, he sent his angel of death to murder all the first born, because he wanted Pharaoh to release the Jewish slaves that HE allowed to suffer for a long time?

You may answer that it is man’s free will to carry out evil acts … But… Angels only act on God’s instruction … Why would you want to pray and pay homage to an invisible killer of babies?

I look forward to a straightforward answer with no wriggle-room to put your dodge ’ems in … All the best.

[signed]

———

Dear Blunt One,

I embrace your question for its candidness. The best questions of all are the irreverent ones that cut through protocol and don’t buy into conventional group mentality. Your question captures the struggle facing many people today when they confront the story of Exodus or other Biblical events.

In the spirit of “question and answer” – which is the central theme of the Haggada – I applaud your initiative to ask in a direct fashion. I will attempt to reciprocate with equal candidness.

Anyone reading the literal Bible with an honest eye cannot help but be taken by the deluge of violence and war in the name of a vengeful G-d. Some of the curses stated in the Bible are too blood curdling to repeat.

No wonder that one of the most powerful stereotypes of our time is the fire brandishing, Bible thumping evangelist pounding the air with clenched fist and trembling voice, invoking the name of the Lord who shall strike the sinners of the world with pestilence and disease.

Who in their good mind and healthy spirit would want to associate with this fire and brimstone approach?!

Add into the equation millennia of religious authoritative abuse, and we have all the ingredients for the profound alienation and knee-jerk rejection of all things religious today. Who after all wants a relationship with such a bloody, vengeful and punitive G-d?!

Indeed, for this precise reason many people find much more solace in the love and gentleness of religious texts other than the Bible. It seems more appropriate that a spiritual book should make you feel warm and nurturing, rather than expose you to an onslaught of wars, betrayals and retributions.

Even more perplexing is the fact that this same Bible is the foundation of civilization. The moral principles of the Ten Commandments remain the first and greatest statement of virtue and ethics. Amidst all the violence of history Biblical values stand out till this very day as a shining example of the noblest standards that man can ever attain.

How did such a violent book produce so much beauty and actually give birth to benevolence, hope, providence and all the greatest ideals we are capable of?!

Indeed, 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. Quite ironic for a belief system based on the aggressive Bible! There are belief systems that are beautiful on paper but in reality have wreaked havoc on the human race; the Bible it seems may sound belligerent on paper, but when applied it produces the most refined life style.

Uncovering the mystery – and paradox – of the Bible – requires a return to its roots. Any translation (in English or other languages) of the Bible hardly reflects and does justice to the original Hebrew and its rich, metaphorical meanings. (For this reason translation of the Bible was seen as a sad moment). Firstly, Hebrew, even in its most literal form, is a symbolic language as opposed to most other languages, which are descriptive, literal languages. Words like “anger” and “vengeance” have completely different meanings and implications in Hebrew than their translated renditions.

Even more important is the fact that the Torah “speaks in the language of man” (Talmud, Berachot 31b). We must eliminate any anthropomorphic notions which may be inferred from Biblical expressions, concepts and analogies. They must be understood in non-spatial and non-corporeal terms. The Torah speaks in human language in order for us to be able to have some conception of these ideas. But these terms need to be stripped of any temporal, spatial and corporeal connotations, for they are all non-ascribable to the Divine.

The Torah cannot be appreciated only through a literal reading. Even its literal dimension is infused with layers of meanings – specifically four layers (literal, allegorical, homiletic and mystical) – embedded within each other.

Our sages actually describe the Torah as a spiritual document. It:

“Talks about things above [spiritual] and alludes to things below [physical].”

Sometimes the Torah is compared to an architect’s blueprint, which the Cosmic Architect used to build this universe.

So instead of imposing our mortal, narrow and superficial meanings in the words “wrath” and “curse,” the Torah challenges us to open ourselves up to Divine meanings of these terms and experiences. Indeed these very concepts originate from their spiritual roots.

Anger at its root is essentially disconnection. When you are angry at someone (for good reason) you are experiencing “distance,” turning you away from the object of your anger.

Two major distinctions must be made to distinguish our experience of “aggressive” emotions from their Divine (spiritual) counterparts. The first is that our emotions are a bundle of healthy and unhealthy forces, driven often by our own human fears, insecurities and pettiness. (In our world there is “no good without evil and no evil without good”). Even when an aggressive emotion is primarily healthy, its secondary effects can often escalate into inappropriate forms of violence. In the Divine dimension, on the other hand, all reactions are healthy forms of expression throughout.

Second, in the world of the Divine every “reaction” is actually a reflection of “cause and effect.” Indeed, our sages explain that reward and punishment are really cause and effect. Would you consider a charred hand being punished by fire? When one places their hand in fire, the natural effect is a burn. All the seemingly “bloody” reactions in the Torah are in essence the “natural” collective effect of a distorted world; a misalignment between existence and its true purpose.

The Torah statement “G-d was angered” means that when humans through their behavior distance themselves from their Divine image and calling, they have the power to cause the effect that G-d distances Himself from us.

We must continuously resist the temptation to project our human reactions when we are hurt by others onto G-d. G-d is not human. G-d is not like an angry father authority who is angered by our behavior. G-d is the essence of reality, and reality reacts to each of its components. Just as the body has violent reaction when one of its organs (or even a single cell) is compromised – not as retribution, but as cause and effect – so too is it, in macrocosm, with the macro-organism called existence.: It responds to our compromising behavior.

Hate of evil is not to be confused with the hate we experience. Divine despise of evil is like the white blood cells recognizing an infection as the enemy, and relentlessly attacking to protect the health of the body.

The Egyptian exile – which was foretold to Abraham 400 years earlier – was part of the mysterious cycle of life and death, joy and pain, which reflects the reality of the soul’s descent into this harsh world.

Indeed, the entire Torah narrative reflects the realities of life on Earth, in all its glory and ugliness, with no words minced and no human “packaging” and “marketing.” It is the true story of life – exposed. In our daily grind we don’t see the true causes and effects of our behavior. We can hurt each other and never feel the destruction we bring into our lives and into the world. The Torah – as a gift to us – reveals for us the inner mechanisms of life, and all the effects of human behavior.

When people hurt each other, they are hurting themselves. For we are all parts of one organism, of one reality – a reality protected and watched over by G-d, the essence of all Reality.

We may never understand why innocent children were massacred in Egypt and throughout history. We are entitled, nay obligated, to challenge G-d for every painful experience we endure. But at the same time, we must remember that if there were no life there would be no death. If there were no joy there would no pain. We are deeply disturbed by any senseless (in our minds) death; and rightfully so. But our disturbance should serve as a reminder that our conscious lives – and the universe as a whole – feels disconnected from our source and we have the power to repair the rift.

The consequences of this disconnection is not the problem, but part of the solution. When we feel pain we complain about the discomfort, but pain is a reminder and a reflection that something needs repair. As much as we would prefer not to experience the consequences, an honest life would rather feel the effects so that they can serve to elicit healing.

By no means does this suggest that every experience of individual suffering is a direct result of one’s sins. In an infinitely complex web, we are all bound to each other and to all of history – as limbs of one organism. Pain and suffering, both personal and collective, are part of the overall collective effects of a world disconnected. A disconnect that began thousands of years ago when Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge, and were banished (an effect caused by their own spiritual detachment).

Ever since, every human being and each of us, has two choices: Either to perpetuate that disconnection, or to realign our lives with our Divine calling.

As painful as the Egyptian exile was, it forged a nation eternal, imbued forever with the natural compulsion toward freedom. One can say that the exile and redemption from Egypt gave birth to freedom – a freedom that would begin a steady march that led to the freedoms and rights that we take for granted today. (That’s a pretty good reason to celebrate the Passover Seder!)

The Divine retribution of the Egyptians too is a story of cause and effect. Here is not the place to elaborate, but the Ten Plagues are actually a fascinating blueprint of the ten psychological effects of crimes against humanity. [For a detailed discussion on this, please e-mail us and we’ll send you an article]. The Egyptians were the first to enslave an entire nation based purely on their race. This was not a small sin. It had profound consequences that ripple through history. The Torah’s detailed description of Moses’ confrontation with Pharaoh, the ten plagues and all the other elements of the story offer us an intimate look into the anatomy of evil, human suffering, its consequences, and above all – our ability to heal and redeemed from the deepest abyss.

The power of the Exodus story lies precisely in its manifestation on our human, ugly plane. The deepest forms of spirituality are to be found not only when we escape the trappings of this cruel world, but within its pain. Indeed, the story of Exodus begins with G-d appearing to Moses in the burning thorn bush. Why not appear in a beautiful fruit tree? Because G-d wanted to demonstrate to Moses that I am with you not only in joy but also in suffering; not only in beauty but also in the thorn.

So when we sit down at the Seder this year we cry for the pain and the losses as reflections of the world’s dissonance; but above all we celebrate our ability, then and now, to be emancipated from our constraints. Even in our spiritual distance and exile we have the power to realign ourselves with our purpose in one glorious expression of unity.

Thank you again for writing. May the power of your questions always serve as catalysts to reach deeper into the intimate mysteries of existence and discover profounder answers. And always remember the words of the Baal Shem Tov: For every question there is an answer. And for every answer there is another question.

May you be blessed with a meaningful and transcendent Passover.