Parshah Summary – P’sha
The parshah opens with Moses receiving the enigmatic laws of the “red cow,” the פָרָה אֲדֻמּה parah adumah, whose ashes are used to purify a person who has been contaminated by contact with a dead body. The name of the parshah, Hukat, is a form of the word חוֹק hok, which means “decree” or “statute.” The hok referred to here is this opening passage about burning the red cow and making a magic purification potion from its ashes. Due to the particularly obscure and bizarre nature of this practice, the rabbis came to see the word חוֹק hok to refer to any of the mitzvot that don’t seem to make rational sense. Next, after forty years of journeying through the desert, the people of Israel arrive in the wilderness of Zin. Miriam dies, and the people thirst for water. Hashem tells Moses to speak to a rock and that water will emerge from it. Moses gets angry at the rebellious Israelites and instead strikes the rock with his staff. Water issues forth, but Moses is told that neither he nor Aaron will enter the Promised Land. Aaron dies at Hor Hahar and his son Elazar becomes the Kohein Gadol (High Priest). After yet another eruption of discontent from the people, venomous snakes attack the Israelite camp. Moses makes an image of serpent out of brass and mounts it upon a pole, after which all who gaze upon the brass serpent are healed. The people then sing a song in honor of the miraculous well which, in the merit of Miriam, had provided them water in the desert over their forty year journey, and of which the water from the rock was yet another manifestation. Moses then leads the people in battles against the Emorite kings Sikhon and Og (who seek to prevent Israel’s passage through their territory), and conquers their lands, which lie east of the Jordan.
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
וַיְדַבֵּ֣ר יְהֹ–וָ֔ה אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֥ה וְאֶֽל־אַהֲרֹ֖ן לֵאמֹֽר׃ זֹ֚את חֻקַּ֣ת הַתּוֹרָ֔ה אֲשֶׁר־צִוָּ֥ה יְהֹ–וָ֖ה לֵאמֹ֑ר דַּבֵּ֣ר אֶל־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֗ל וְיִקְח֣וּ אֵלֶ֩יךָ֩ פָרָ֨ה אֲדֻמָּ֜ה תְּמִימָ֗ה אֲשֶׁ֤ר אֵֽין־בָּהּ֙ מ֔וּם אֲשֶׁ֛ר לֹא־עָלָ֥ה עָלֶ֖יהָ עֹֽל׃ Hashem spoke to Moses and Aaron, saying: This is the decree of the Torah that Hashem has commanded, saying: “Speak to the Children of Israel, that they should bring you a red cow without blemish, in which there is no defect and on which no yoke has been laid..”. -BaMidbar (Numbers) 19:1, 2 Parshat Hukat
לֹא־אָמ֥וּת כִּֽי־אֶחְיֶ֑ה וַ֝אֲסַפֵּ֗ר מַעֲשֵׂ֥י יָֽהּ׃
I shall not die but live and proclaim the works of the YAH! - Psalm 118:17 Rabbi Yitzhak of Vorki taught on this verse: “In order to really live, a person must imagine that they are on the verge of dying, and accept their own death. And when they do so, they discover not that they are about to die, but that now they can truly live.” This teaching of Reb Yitzhak is the polar opposite of the advice we receive from Dylan Thomas: Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light… Surrender vs. Resistance – which is the proper path? The answer, perhaps, is dependent on how we understand “death.” וְיִקְח֣וּ אֵלֶ֩יךָ֩ פָרָ֨ה אֲדֻמָּ֜ה – they should bring you a red cow… Rabbi Mordechai Yosef (a.k.a. the Ishbitzer) taught that the red cow, the פָרָה אֲדֻמּה para adumah, represents death: it is a living creature that is completely burned up, it is red, the color of the blood that bleeds out of a slaughtered animal, as well as the fire that destroys the form of the animal. But, “Death” is also a metaphor; it represents the past, that which is no longer present; the past is over already; it is dead: הַנֹּגֵ֥עַ בְּמֵ֖ת לְכׇל־נֶ֣פֶשׁ אָדָ֑ם וְטָמֵ֖א שִׁבְעַ֥ת יָמִֽים׃ – Those who touch the corpse of any human being shall be tamei (ritually impure) for seven days. - BaMidbar (Numbers) 19:11. The state of being טָמֵא tamai, “ritually impure” represents anger or resentment about something from the past: “Rage, rage against the dying of the light…” This is because feelings of negativity and judgment about something that has already happened keep us stuck; they are an expression of resistance. That “holding on” is the טומאה tuma – the quality that makes one unfit for engagement with the sacred, which is by its nature a function of Presence. This is why the symbol of death, the פָרָה אֲדֻמּה para adumah, cures one from the טומאה tuma, the contamination of death: to be cured from our resistance, we must accept whatever we resist; we must embrace it. And so, paradoxically, it is in embracing the past that we let go of the past, because being “stuck” means holding on to an idea of how it should have been. When we accept what has been, we are “soaked with the ashes of the red cow,” so to speak – we can let go of it. Then we become, once again, טָהוֹר tahor – purified from that clinging, that holding on, so that we can come fully into the present, into the sacred dimension of simply Being. How do we do that? How can we accept whatever we are resisting, so that we may let go of it? In other words, what are the “ashes of the red cow” we can use today? There’s a Hebrew cipher known as אתבש Atbash, in which each Hebrew letter is connected with another Hebrew letter, so that the first letter, א alef, gets connected with the last letter, ת tav. The second letter, ב bet, gets connected with the second to last letter, ש shin, and so on. In this way, we can substitute letters in words to come up with new words. According to Kabbalah, words that are connected through אתבש Atbash have a connection in meaning as well. An אתבש Atbash substitution on the word טָהוֹר tahor hints at an answer to this question of surrender: טָהוֹר tahor means a state of being spiritually whole and pure. Through אתבש Atbash we can substitute a נ nun for the ט tet, making nahor. Rearrange the letters, and you have וְרִנָה v’rinah – “and song.” This is exactly the power of song and music in general – to transform negativity and resistance not necessarily by turning away from it, but by turning into it. Why? Because music makes it feel good to feel bad – hence the blues, as well as a lot of mournful Jewish liturgy, the krekh of the clarinet in Klezmer music, and a thousand other examples. This is the miracle of music – it makes it feel good to feel bad – it transforms negativity without negating it, allowing us to accept and even embrace whatever it is we are resisting. And out of that “letting go” naturally grows the recognition that there is only One Reality – not “me,” on one hand, and that “thing I am judging,” on the other, there is just What Is – there is just Hashem – Reality, Being, God. As Rebbe Nachman said, “The most direct means for attaching yourself to God is through music and song. Even if you can't sing well, sing. Sing to yourself. Sing in the privacy of your home, but sing.” But why? How does music work anyway? זֹ֚את חֻקַּ֣ת הַתּוֹרָ֔ה אֲשֶׁר־צִוָּ֥ה יְהֹ–וָ֖ה... – This is the decree of the Torah that Hashem has commanded… In other words, the power of music is the great חוֹק hok, the mysterious decree of Reality, that this enigma has the power to bring us deeply into the depths of meditation and open to the Wholeness that we are. In this Shabbat Hukat – the Sabbath of the Mystery – may we remember to use our voices in to bring us more deeply into our meditation and into sacred space of Presence: “Even if you can't sing well, sing. Sing to yourself. Sing in the privacy of your home, but sing.”
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Parshah Summary – P’sha
A Levite named Korach, together with Dathan, Abiram and 250 rebels, incites a mutiny against Moses, challenging his leadership and his granting of the kehunah (priesthood) to Aaron and his sons. Moses instructs the rebels to offer special incense in the morning, and that Hashem will make the truth known. The next day, the rebels offer incense in their fire pans. The earth opens up and swallows their tents and families, and a fire consumes those with the incense. The people rise up and complain bitterly about the deaths of the rebels, and a plague then begins to move through the entire community. Aaron stops the plague by offering his own incense. Moses instructs a chief from each tribe to bring their staves, and Aaron’s staff miraculously blossoms and brings forth almonds, showing that he is the chosen one for the kahuna. Finally, Hashem instructs the Children of Israel in a number of offerings which they are to bring from each crop of grain, wine and oil, as well as all firstborn sheep, cattle, and other specified gifts, to the kohanim (priests). Among the offerings, the “Covenant of Salt” is mentioned, which is the origin of dipping the Challah in salt at the Shabbat table today.
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
וַיִּֽקָּהֲל֞וּ עַל־מֹשֶׁ֣ה וְעַֽל־אַהֲרֹ֗ן וַיֹּאמְר֣וּ אֲלֵהֶם֮ רַב־לָכֶם֒ כִּ֤י כָל־הָֽעֵדָה֙ כֻּלָּ֣ם קְדֹשִׁ֔ים וּבְתוֹכָ֖ם יְי וּמַדּ֥וּעַ תִּֽתְנַשְּׂא֖וּ עַל־קְהַ֥ל יְיְ׃ וַיִּשְׁמַ֣ע מֹשֶׁ֔ה וַיִּפֹּ֖ל עַל־פָּנָֽיו׃ And they gathered against Moses and Aaron and said to them. “You make much of yourselves! For all the community – all of them are holy, and the Divine is among them all! Why do you exalt yourselves above the community of Hashem?” When Moses heard this, he fell on his face. -BaMidbar (Numbers) 16:3, Parshat Korakh
An opponent of the Hassidic movement once came to the Alter Rebbe – Rabbi Sheur Zalman – to attack him with accusations of pride: “You claim to be a holy man – a leader of hasidim – but look how you sit alone in your study, separate from the people – and with an attendant at your door, shielding you and only admitting them one by one according to your command – how fancy of you! Isn’t that arrogance? Who do you think you are?”
The tzaddik put down his head, resting it in his arms, as one does during the penitential Takhanun prayer. After a few minutes, he lifted his head and spoke: “The expression the Torah uses for ‘leaders of the people’ is רָאשֵׁ֖י אַלְפֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל – heads of the thousands of Israel (Bamidbar [Numbers] 1:16), from which we learn that our leaders are known as ‘heads.’ Now it is true, the head and the body are joined together, and neither can exist without the other. Nevertheless, they are clothed separately and differently. Why is this? Because the head must be distinct from the body, just as the ‘heads’ of any generation must be distinct from the people.” The questioner was impressed with the answer and went on his way. But the Rebbe’s little son (who would eventually be known as Reb Dov Bear of Lubavitch), had a different question for his father. “Abba, in order to give that answer, there was no need to rest your head in your arms. Why didn’t you give him the answer immediately?” The Alter Rebbe replied, “In Parshat Korakh, when Korakh and his followers incited mutiny against Moses and Aaron and accused them of abusing their power as leaders, we read that Korakh accused Moses with these words: וּמַדּ֥וּעַ תִּֽתְנַשְּׂא֖וּ עַל־קְהַ֥ל יְיְ – Why do you exalt yourselves above the community of Hashem?’ Then we read, וַיִּשְׁמַ֣ע מֹשֶׁ֔ה וַיִּפֹּ֖ל עַל־פָּנָֽיו – Moses heard, and fell on his face.’ “Only after he fell on his face did Moses give his answer to Korakh. The same question could be asked there; why did Moses have to fall on his face first, before answering? But Moses suspected that perhaps there was some truth to the accusation; perhaps there was a bit of ego involved in his leadership, so he had to go inside himself and search inwardly to see if there was any truth there. After searching within, he was able to see that the accusation was false, as the Torah itself says: וְהָאִ֥ישׁ מֹשֶׁ֖ה עָנָ֣ו מְאֹ֑ד מִכֹּל֙ הָֽאָדָ֔ם אֲשֶׁ֖ר עַל־פְּנֵ֥י הָאֲדָמָֽה. Moses was exceedingly humble, more than anyone on the face of the earth. - Bamidbar [Numbers] 12:3 “Only then was he was able to respond to the accusation with clarity. A similar thing happened with me here today.” The Alter Rebbe’s description of the head in relation to the body – essentially connected, yet also separate – is not just a metaphor for a leader in relation to the people, but also for consciousness in relation to the mind. Just as the attendant shields the rebbe from his clamoring disciples, admitting them one by one according to the wishes of the rebbe, so too we need to be the “attendants” of our own minds, admitting our thoughts one by one, as they need to be dealt with. In this way, our consciousness can be free and not be besieged by our thoughts. But when you practice attending to your own mind, it sometimes happens that the mind rebels, like Korakh: “What makes you so great that you get to call all the shots? All of us thoughts are holy too!” Thoughts will come with incredible urgency, accusing you of being negligent, of being disconnected, of being arrogant, whatever. And even though Moshe Rabbeinu and the Alter Rebbe may find no trace of ego within themselves, most people will find at least a little. For many, cleansing oneself inwardly from ego is a daily task. That’s why there is the practice referred to in the story of Nefilat Apayim – “Falling on the Face” – that happens in the weekday Takhanun prayer. The practice is to lower the head and rest it on the arm in a gesture of humility and introspection, while looking inside oneself, admitting one’s faults and prayerfully asking for forgiveness. But whether you use the traditional words or not, you can take some moments in your day for introspection – for discovering any faults, misdeeds or arrogance. Express regret prayerfully, and let your heart be cracked open so that the arrogance can be released. In fact, the Alter Rebbe himself recommended doing this for short periods of self-reflection and purification. But, he emphasizes that this practice should be brief, after which you return to a positive state of joy and gratitude. But to do this, you first need to have sovereignty over your own mind, so that your self-reflection does its job and then subsides, without turning into obsessive rumination: לַכֹּ֖ל זְמָ֑ן וְעֵ֥ת לְכׇל־חֵ֖פֶץ תַּ֥חַת הַשָּׁמָֽיִם׃ For everything there is a season, a time for all things under the heavens… עֵ֤ת לִבְכּוֹת֙ וְעֵ֣ת לִשְׂח֔וֹק עֵ֥ת סְפ֖וֹד וְעֵ֥ת רְקֽוֹד׃ A time for weeping and a time for laughing; A time for wailing and a time for dancing... - Kohelet (Ecclesiastes) 3:1,4 The process by which we gain sovereignty over our minds, of course, is meditation. Through meditation, not only can we gain clarity to perceive within ourselves when it is a “time for weeping” and when it is a “time for laughing,” but to the degree we are able to relax our compulsive thinking, the innate intelligence within our consciousness can naturally guide us into the appropriate חֵ֖פֶץ hefetz, the appropriate experience, for this זְמָ֑ן zman, this moment. Interestingly, the dual qualities of humility, on one hand, and gratitude on the other, are both inherent in the sefirah of Hod, whose root can mean both surrender and giving thanks. May these dual qualities of Hod be alive and available to us, each in the right season, at the right time.
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Parshah Summary – P’sha
The parshah begins with the Children of Israel encamped in the wilderness of Paran, and Moses sends out twelve spies to the land of Canaan. After forty days, they return with great reports, carrying some of the land’s bounty: an enormous cluster of grapes, a pomegranate and a fig. But, ten of the spies warn that the inhabitants of the land are giants and warriors; only Caleb and Joshua insist that the land can be conquered. The people side with the ten naysayers and complain that they would rather return to Egypt. In response, Hashem decrees that the entire present generation of the Children of Israel will wander in the desert for forty years until they all perish, and only their offspring will enter the Promised Land. When they hear this news, a group of them storms a mountain on the border, but they are swiftly defeated by the Amalekites and Canaanites. Hashem then gives mitzvot about the offerings of grain, wine and oil that their descendants should bring when they enter the land, as well as the mitzvah to consecrate a portion of dough when making bread, which is the origin of challah. Finally, a man is found gathering sticks on Shabbat. In response, the mitzvah of tzitzit, which are special fringes worn on the four corners of garments, is given as a bodily reminder of the mitzvot.
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
שְׁלַח־לְךָ֣ אֲנָשִׁ֗ים וְיָתֻ֙רוּ֙ אֶת־אֶ֣רֶץ כְּנַ֔עַן אֲשֶׁר־אֲנִ֥י נֹתֵ֖ן לִבְנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל אִ֣ישׁ אֶחָד֩ אִ֨ישׁ אֶחָ֜ד לְמַטֵּ֤ה אֲבֹתָיו֙ תִּשְׁלָ֔חוּ כֹּ֖ל נָשִׂ֥יא בָהֶֽם׃ Send for yourself people to spy out the land of Canaan that I am giving to the Children of Israel, one person from each of their ancestral tribes you shall send, each one a leader among them... - Bamidbar (Numbers) 13:2, Parshat Bamidbar
Once, Reb Zushia commented on the saying of the sages:
יְהוּדָה בֶן תֵּימָא אוֹמֵר... עַז פָּנִים לְגֵיהִנֹּם, וּבֹשֶׁת פָּנִים לְגַן עֵדֶן. – Yehudah son of Teimah said, “The bold-faced will go to hell, and the shame-faced will go to the Garden of Eden.” - Pirkei Avot 5:20 “The bold-faced will go to hell,” said Reb Zushia, “This means that if you are bold in holiness, you don’t have to fear descending into hell. You can engage in all kinds of worldly things, and you will bring forth the light hidden within them. But if you are shame-faced in your holiness, you’d better stick to the “paradise” of learning and prayer, and stay away from worldly things.” This remarkable teaching of Reb Zushia reverses the meaning of the mishna, which is simply saying that arrogance leads to suffering, whereas humility leads to spiritual pleasure. Without contradicting this basic truth, Zushia adds another nuance: to be עַז פָּנִים az panim doesn’t necessarily mean arrogant – it can also mean courageous, that is, having the courage to willingly to descend into “hell” for the sake of the “light” – meaning, being willing to weather the presence of reactivity and impulsivity for the sake of becoming more conscious. Being a steady beacon of consciousness in the face of adversity requires that you not be seduced by the energies before you, that you remain עַז az, “strong” in פָּנִים panim, “Presence” (lit., “face”). If you are not able to do that, teaches Reb Zushia, it is better to be protected from the forces of unconsciousness by remaining in a spiritually conducive environment. And yet, if we understand the context of Hasidism in which the Baal Shem Tov actively sought to bring many of his rabbi disciples out of their reclusiveness and into the world of ministering to the uneducated masses, this teaching is not merely advice, but implies an admonition. One should be עַז פָּנִים az panim; it is not good to shut oneself up in paradise, but one should be courageous in the face of spiritual obstacles, unlike the “spies” in the parshah: שְׁלַח לְךָ֣ אֲנָשִׁ֗ים וְיָתֻ֨רוּ֙ אֶת־אֶ֣רֶץ כְּנַ֔עַן – “Send for yourselves people who will spy out the land...” The spies return with a wonderful report, except that there are “giants” in the land; they are afraid to confront the giants! They are being בֹשֶׁת פָּנִים voshet panim – “shame-faced,” lacking courage and confidence. But what’s wrong with being cautious? Isn’t it a good thing to be aware of our limitations in confronting obstacles? There are times when we must withdraw from the world and from people, in order to heal, recover, and renew our connection; this is the purpose of meditation. But we cannot remain there; even if we’re not going into the unconsciousness of the world on purpose, as was the mission of the Hasidic rebbes, the unconsciousness of the world comes to us. We must not shrink away from our mission to bring light to whatever adversity arises, but rather we must be עַז פָּנִים az panim; this is the Path of כ Kaf, the middah of courage. But once we muster the inner strength to confront the obstacles, how do transform the darkness into light? This is where the Thirty-Two Paths can be helpful; there are many entry points to consciousness, depending on the situation. Sometimes there might be something we need to learn – this is the Path of ל Lamed. Other times the task might be to love and serve others – this is the Path of Hesed. Or, the task might just be to surrender more deeply, as in the Path of מ Mem. But before we engage any of these paths, we first must trust that we can do it; we must trust that we have come to this moment, this situation, for this reason. אַל־תִּֽירְאוּ֙ ...יהֹוָ֥ה אִתָּ֖נוּ אַל־תִּירָאֻֽם׃ – “Do not fear… the Divine is with us; do not fear them!” These words of excortation from Joshua and Caleb teach: to be “bold” doesn’t actually negate humility; it doesn’t require “self” confidence. It’s true, the spies in the story lacked self-confidence, but the remedy was to bolster their Divine-confidence. Similarly, we shouldn’t worry about having self-confidence; it is better not to be “self” confident: הִלֵּל אוֹמֵר... וְאַל תַּאֲמִין בְּעַצְמְךָ עַד יוֹם מוֹתְךָ Hillel said… “Do not trust in yourself until the day of your death.” - Pirkei Avot 2:4 In other words, don’t trust your “self” – that is, identification with thought and feeling, but still trust: the unfolding of Reality has guided you to this moment – God “put” you here for a reason, so to speak, and that reason is now your task, in this moment – this is the “death” of ego, the death of resisting what is. When we can learn to embrace whatever beings and situations we encounter, moment to moment, without judgment and with receiving our task from God’s hands, then life itself becomes meditation; this is the Path of י Yud, the middah of Trust.
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Parshah Summary – P’sha
Aaron is instructed to kindle the lamps of the menorah, and the tribe of Levi is initiated into their duties in the Mishkan (Sanctuary). Those who were unable to bring the Pesakh (Passover) offering on the festival, due to being tamei (ritually impure), approach Moses and petition him to be permitted to bring their offerings later. In response, a Pesakh Sheini, a “Second Passover,” is instituted. Israel’s journeys and encampments are then described – they would be guided by the ascending and descending movements of a cloud by day and fire by night over the mishkan.
Moses is instructed to make two silver trumpets through which the community would be signaled for journeying, for battle and for festivals. The people then begin moving in formation from Mt. Sinai, where they had been camped for nearly a year. Next, the people complain to Moses about their dissatisfaction with the man (“manna,” the “bread from heaven,”) with which they were miraculously fed in the wilderness, and they demand that Moses provide them with meat. In response, Moses appoints seventy elders to assist him in the burden of governing, and the people are all fed by numerous quail which descend upon the camp. Miriam speaks judgmentally to Aaron about Moses’ wife and questions his leadership. As a consequence, she contracts tzara’at, the skin affliction associated lashon hara (gossip, slander). Moses prays for her healing with the words, El na refa na la, and the entire community waits seven days for her recovery.
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
דַּבֵּר֙ אֶֽל־אַהֲרֹ֔ן וְאָמַרְתָּ֖ אֵלָ֑יו בְּהַעֲלֹֽתְךָ֙ אֶת־הַנֵּרֹ֔ת אֶל־מוּל֙ פְּנֵ֣י הַמְּנוֹרָ֔ה יָאִ֖ירוּ שִׁבְעַ֥ת הַנֵּרֽוֹת׃ Speak to Aaron, and say to him: when you kindle the lamps, toward the face of the menorah shall the lamps cast light… - Bamidbar (Numbers) 8:2, Parshat Beha’alotkha
Rabbi Bunam said to his hasidim: “Any of you who is concerned with nothing but love is a philanderer; any of you who is nothing but devout is a thief; any of you who is nothing but clever has no faith. Only one who has all three of these gifts together can serve God as they should.”
This short teaching of Rabbi Simha Bunam speaks to the tendency toward reductionism. When we get excited about something – whether it’s an art, a philosophy, a spiritual practice, a political movement, anything – there is the danger of reducing everything to that, and ignoring other things of vital importance. In the realm of spirituality, this is sometimes called spiritual bypass, but there is also political bypass, economic bypass, and many other bypasses. How can we avoid the reductionism of spiritual bypass, and be truly integral in our view? First, it is helpful is to understand why we might bypass. Why would we believe in something so strongly that we ignore other things that are also important? If you work in a kitchen, you have to wash both of your hands. No matter how clean your left hand becomes, you still have to wash your right hand; there is no point at which your left hand becomes SO clean that it is okay for your right hand to be dirty. Why would we think otherwise when it comes to other facets of life? There are two reasons this might happen. The first reason is that we may recognize some genuine core truth, but that truth gets exaggerated. In the case of spirituality, this isn’t hard to see: the more conscious we become, the more we are able to be in harmony with those around us. While our meditation practice may not seem to have any discernible effect on our political or economic realities, it can have a profound effect on the real people we interact with every day. This is no small thing – as we know, our daily interactions with others affect not only the tone of our own lives, but have an incalculable effect beyond our immediate experience on countless beings whom we may never meet. And, while some of us may sometimes have a discernible and occasionally profound effect at the political level, nearly all of us are constantly affecting and are being affected by others that we encounter daily. The quality of our interactions, especially with family and others we are close with, can sometimes make the difference between life and death, or between a healthy life and a life of alienation and misery. It is understandable, then, that in knowing the profoundly transformative and life-changing power of increasing consciousness, that one might “overstep” and assume that as long as we are being conscious, everything else will simply take care of itself. So, it is good to remember: meditation can have a profoundly positive effect, but that doesn’t mean that it will necessarily and automatically “trickle down” to solve all the world’s problems, or even other personal problems such as health or money issues. For those, we may certainly have to do something else. But still, whatever we may have to do, greater Presence can help us to clearly see the choices before us, rather than be mired in conditioning and reactivity. The second reason is the plain fact that we are not in control of what happens. Our larger political and social realities can be overwhelmingly distressing. Combine that with the fact that no matter what we do, we are not guaranteed any positive outcome, and we may be tempted to give up altogether. We can be tempted to focus instead solely on the immediate personal realm, where we may be more likely to have some positive effect. We know that we can’t control the world – so why should we drive ourselves crazy trying? Resignation is seductive, and to avoid the pain of despair, we may believe that we are really doing our best simply by meditating. לֹא עָלֶיךָ הַמְּלָאכָה לִגְמֹר, וְלֹא אַתָּה בֶן חוֹרִין לִבָּטֵל מִמֶּנָּה:. It is not upon you to finish the work, but neither are you free to withdraw from it. - Pirkei Avot 2:16 Rabbi Tarfon’s aphorism is an antidote for resignation – simple, clean, and radiating with truth: yes, we have no certainty, we have no control. It is not upon us to figure it all out; we can’t figure it all out. But we can act, we should act, from where we are and from what we see and with what is available to us, to participate in improving the situation. And that means, don’t reduce – the Divine needs to be realized מִתָּֽחַת בַּשָּׁמַֽיִם מִמַּֽעַל וְעַל הָאָֽרֶץ – in the heavens above and on the earth below, both. אֶל־מוּל֙ פְּנֵ֣י הַמְּנוֹרָ֔ה יָאִ֖ירוּ שִׁבְעַ֥ת הַנֵּרֽוֹת: – Toward the face of the menorah should shine the seven lamps… It is a strange construction – how can the light of the “seven lamps” be made to shine back toward the menorah? These were not lasers, they were oil lamps; the light would simply shine out in all directions. But on a metaphorical level, the “seven lamps” are the many facets of human endeavor, such as politics, sciences, arts, relationships, and so on, and the menorah as a whole is a glyph that represents an integral vision. Each branch expresses a unique facet of life, and by bringing consciousness to them all, each of their “lights” can illuminate their “root” – that is, the unified human being, the one consciousness that we are beneath all our complexity, beneath all our multifaceted experience. How do we do that? By practicing being present in all our activities, not merely as a technique to bring about a certain effect such as less stress or more happiness, but to do our best to make all our endeavors conscious, so that we may shine from all “seven branches” – in all dimensions of our lives and at all levels of responsibility, without bypassing even one. This middah of bringing awareness to all facets of life and bringing them into balance and harmony is the Path of Tiferet on the Tree of Life.
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Parshah Summary – P’sha
The parshah continues with the census taken at Sinai, and completes the counting of 8,580 Levite men between the ages of 30 and 50. The Levites have been separated out from the other tribes to do the work of transporting the Mishkan, and are therefore exempt from the military service required of the men from the other tribes. Moses is then given instructions for purifying the camp which requires certain individuals who have become tamai (ritually unfit) to temporarily leave the camp. Laws are then given for bringing offerings to atone for certain kinds of theft. Moses is then given the law of the sotah, the situation of a husband suspecting his wife of unfaithfulness. Next, he receives the laws of the Nazir – one who has taken on the temporary practice of renouncing wine, hair grooming and contact with the dead. Aaron and his descendants, the kohanim, are then instructed on how to bless the people with the formula known as the Birkat HaKohanim. The parshah then concludes with an elaborate ceremony for the inauguration of the altar in which leaders of the twelve tribes of Israel each bring a set of identical gifts, each on their own day.
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
דַּבֵּר֙ אֶל־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל וְאָמַרְתָּ֖ אֲלֵהֶ֑ם אִ֣ישׁ אֽוֹ־אִשָּׁ֗ה כִּ֤י יַפְלִא֙ לִנְדֹּר֙ נֶ֣דֶר נָזִ֔יר לְהַזִּ֖יר לַֽיהוָֽה׃ מִיַּ֤יִן וְשֵׁכָר֙ יַזִּ֔יר... Speak to the Children of Israel and say to them: If anyone, man or woman, sets oneself apart by vowing the vow of the Nazir, to be a renunciate for the Divine, they shall renounce wine and intoxicants… - Bamidbar (Numbers) 6:2-3, Parshat Naso
If you look back in time through your family photos, you will eventually find pictures of people not smiling. It is an interesting thing – why didn’t people smile back then when posing for pictures? And why and when did people start smiling as we do now? Today a person could be grumpy, yet when someone comes along to take a photo, they seem to instantly become joyful. The old paradigm is certainly more honest; if we want to take a snapshot of life, the practice of always smiling gives a false impression – that life is constantly light and happy, when we know that is not.
מִֽי־יִ֝שְׁכֹּ֗ן בְּהַ֣ר קָדְשֶֽׁךָ...דֹבֵ֥ר אֱ֝מֶ֗ת בִּלְבָבֽוֹ – Who can dwell on Your holy mountain?... One who speaks Truth from their heart… - Psalm 15 Truth is a basic middah (spiritual quality), necessary for “dwelling” on the “holy mountain” – meaning, transcending the ordinary self-sense which tends to be identified with thought and feeling, and awakening into the spaciousness of pure consciousness. This is because attachment to falsehood involves creating an inner separation between perception and assertion; it is a state of denial, which keeps one trapped in the self-apparatus that has a stake in the falsehood, that is, the “ego.” And yet, the deliberate self-generation of joy is also a middah: שַׁמַּאי אוֹמֵר...וֶהֱוֵי מְקַבֵּל אֶת כָּל הָאָדָם בְּסֵבֶר פָּנִים יָפוֹת – Shamai says, receive every person with a cheerful face. - Pirkei Avot 1:15 And further on we read: הֱוֵי מְקַבֵּל אֶת כָּל הָאָדָם בְּשִׂמְחָה רַבִּי יִשְׁמָעֵאל אוֹמֵר... – Rabbi Yishmael said, Receive every person with joy! - 3:16 So, which is it? Is it best to be honest about our feelings, or should we “put on a happy face?” A disciple once asked the Hassidic master, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev, which is the true path – the path of sorrow or the path of joy. He answered that there are two kinds of sorrow, and two kinds of joy. The wrong kind of sorrow is when you become negative, think of yourself as a victim and complain about your life. The right kind of sorrow is when you simply feel your suffering and the suffering of others in an honest way, without embellishment, without getting caught by the negativity. The wrong kind of joy is when you only become happy about things you like, when things are going your way, when you get what you want. The right kind of joy, on the other hand, is like when a person’s house burns down, and as they rebuild their destroyed home, they rejoice over each and every brick. It’s a remarkable image – the right kind of joy is like when your house burns down! The genius of this teaching is that the right kind of joy and the right kind of sorrow are really the same thing; they are merged in the truth of our experience, that everything we love and enjoy will eventually burn down. If our happiness is based on gratification alone, then we are slaves to our experience. But there is a deeper joy that arises from the depths of who we are, beneath our temporary experience, beneath the fragile “house” of our thoughts and feelings. That is the simple joy of being, which becomes available when we let the “house” of ego “burn down” and intentionally open ourselves to the truth of our experience without resistance – even, paradoxically, the experience of pain and suffering – this is meditation, particularly meditation on the Path of נ Nun. And in that openness, we begin this moment anew, rejoicing over each and every “brick” – over every word and action offered in service of building a home for the Divine during this brief life we are given. This deep openness of consciousness to whatever arises is very simple, but it is not easy, because the complexities of life can easily distract. That is the function of spiritual practice – to help us remember our intention in the midst of life. כִּ֤י יַפְלִא֙ לִנְדֹּר֙ נֶ֣דֶר נָזִ֔יר לְהַזִּ֖יר לַֽיהוָֽה׃ מִיַּ֤יִן וְשֵׁכָר֙ יַזִּ֔יר... – If anyone sets oneself apart by vowing the vow of the Nazir, to be a renunciate for the Divine, they shall renounce wine and intoxicants… The Nazir is someone who feels they have become disconnected from Hashem, wishes to return, and they do by abstaining from alcohol and haircuts. Why? Alcohol is a way of altering our inner state, while grooming our hair is a way of altering our outer state. In other words, they are examples of manipulating our experience toward our liking. By abstaining from both, one can get in touch with that deeper level of awareness that simply receives the moment as it is, that “lets the house burn down,” so to speak. This level of awareness experientially knows the Oneness of the Divine as the basic condition of Reality, prior to the impulse to do something about it. Through this practice, the Nazir could find their way back to Wholeness, back to their deepest nature, and then return to ordinary life from this higher place. On the festival of Shavuot, the Book of Ruth is chanted. The story begins with Naomi’s house “burning down” as tragedy befalls her: first, her husband dies, and then both of her sons die. She tells her daughters-in-law to go back to their families, but Ruth swears allegiance to Naomi, and they return to Naomi’s hometown of Bethlehem, penniless. Someone says, “Could this be Naomi?” but she says that Naomi is no longer her name: וַתֹּ֣אמֶר אֲלֵיהֶ֔ן אַל־תִּקְרֶ֥אנָה לִ֖י נָעֳמִ֑י קְרֶ֤אןָ לִי֙ מָרָ֔א כִּי־הֵמַ֥ר שַׁדַּ֛י לִ֖י מְאֹֽד׃ – Do not call me Naomi (pleasantness),” she replied. “Call me Mara (bitterness), for Shaddai has made my lot very bitter.” But after that, their luck begins to change. Ruth serendipitously meets the wealthy Boaz, a relative of Naomi, marries him, and they have a son who turns out to be an ancestor of King David – who, according to tradition, will be the progenitor of Moshiakh, the future salvation of all humanity. Meaning: their salvation begins to sprout when Naomi expresses her bitterness: “Call me Mara (bitterness) for Shaddai has made my lot very bitter…” She is not complaining about her lot, she is receiving it from the hands of the Divine. She is speaking Truth from the heart – her experience isn’t pleasant, it is bitter – but from that honesty, her fortune begins to change and will lead to ultimately to world salvation. In other words, it is from the openness to the bitter that a deeper, transcendent sweetness can arise. And so it is for us; may we open to the truth of our experience with simplicity and without resistance, receiving everything from the Divine, and may we merit to feel the deeper joy that arises from that openness. And may we learn to share that joy with everyone we encounter: וֶהֱוֵי מְקַבֵּל אֶת כָּל הָאָדָם בְּשִׂמְחָה – Receive every person with joy… May true peace and salvation sprout for this world, speedily in our day!
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Parshah Summary – P’sha
The parshah opens in the Sinai Desert encampment, with the Children of Israel receiving instructions to conduct a census of men suitable for battle from the twelve tribes, between 20 to 60 years of age. The tribe of Levi is excluded, but included are the two sons of Yosef, keeping the number of tribes twelve. The tribe of Levi, who is to serve as the spiritual leadership, is counted separately. These Levi’im (Levites) are given responsibility for the Mishkan (Sanctuary), and all of its vessels and sacrificial equipment.
Whenever the Children of Israel would break down the camp to travel, the three Levite clans would dismantle and transport the Mishkan, and then reassemble it at the center of the next encampment. They then erected their own tents around it. The Kohathites, who carried the Sanctuary’s ritual objects (such as the Ark and menorah) on their shoulders, camped to its south; the Gershonites, in charge of its tapestries and roof coverings, to its west; and the families of Merari, who transported its wall panels and pillars, to its north. Before the Sanctuary’s entranceway, to its east, were the tents of Moses, Aaron, and Aaron’s sons, who served as the kohanim, the priests. Beyond the Levite circle, the twelve tribes camped in four groups of three tribes each. To the east were Yehudah, Yissakhar, and Zevulun; to the south, Reuvein, Shimon and Gad; to the west, Ephraim, Manasheh, and Binyamin; and to the north, Dan, Asher and Naphtali. This formation was kept also while traveling. Each tribe had its own nassi (prince or leader), and its own flag with its tribal color and emblem.
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
וַיְדַבֵּ֨ר יְהֹ–וָ֧ה אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֛ה בְּמִדְבַּ֥ר סִינַ֖י בְּאֹ֣הֶל מוֹעֵ֑ד בְּאֶחָד֩ לַחֹ֨דֶשׁ הַשֵּׁנִ֜י בַּשָּׁנָ֣ה הַשֵּׁנִ֗ית לְצֵאתָ֛ם מֵאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרַ֖יִם לֵאמֹֽר׃ שְׂא֗וּ אֶת־רֹאשׁ֙ כׇּל־עֲדַ֣ת בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל לְמִשְׁפְּחֹתָ֖ם לְבֵ֣ית אֲבֹתָ֑ם בְּמִסְפַּ֣ר שֵׁמ֔וֹת כׇּל־זָכָ֖ר לְגֻלְגְּלֹתָֽם׃ Hashem spoke to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai, in the Tent of Meeting, on the first day of the second month, in the second year from the Exodus from the land of Egypt, saying: “Lift the head (take a census) of the whole (battle ready) assembly of the Children of Israel according to their families, according to their ancestral houses, listing the names, every (battle ready) male, according to their count.” - BaMidbar (Numbers) 1:1,2; Parshat Bamidbar
Rabbi Naftali of Roptchtiz told the following incident: “During the siege of Sebastopol, Czar Nicholas was once riding along one of the walls when an enemy archer took aim at him. A Russian soldier who observed this from afar screamed and startled the emperor’s horse so that it swerved to the side and the arrow missed its target. The Czar wished to reward the soldier who had saved his life, and told him to ask for any favor he pleased. ‘Our sergeant is so brutal,’ the soldier faltered. ‘He is always beating me. If only I could serve under another sergeant!’ ‘Fool,’ cried Nicholas, ‘why don’t you ask to be a sergeant yourself?!’” Rabbi Naftali continued: “And so that is what we are like: we are concerned with the petty wants of the moment and lack awareness of our deeper need.”
How do we become aware our deeper need? On one hand, awareness of our true situation can be stifled by our mental conditioning. Like a chicken in a cage which fails to escape when the door is opened for it, our patterns of incessant thought can obscure the doorway to our inner freedom. This is the message of meditation: learn to still the mind, think less, and you will begin to see clearly. And yet, in more common circles of wisdom, we hear the message that we should think more, that we can understand more deeply if we contemplate our situation, thoroughly thinking it through. So which is it– think more or think less? שְׂא֗וּ אֶת־רֹאשׁ֙ – S’u et rosh – lift the head… This is an idiom for taking a census, which was instructed to prepare the Israelites for battle. But the deeper implication is that before going out to “do battle” with the challenges of life, we must “lift our head” – that is, elevate our perspective to see our situation as clearly as we can, which means transcending our thoughts and feelings. This is thinking less – the practice of meditation. From this elevated place, we can begin to act consciously and intentionally. How כָּל־עֲדַ֣ת בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל – all the assembly of the Children of Israel… Yisrael means sarita El, “wrestling” or “striving for the Divine.” It is within the linguistic DNA of our collective identity to “assemble” our thoughts and actions according a higher intention. Meaning: if we want to get clarity on the right path to take, we need to clarify within ourselves: “What is my purpose in doing such-and-such? What am I trying to accomplish?” Without this self-inquiry, we may act out of conditioned impulses that we haven’t “thought through.” Self-inquiry cuts through that unconsciousness and brings us face to face with our power of decision. It doesn’t guarantee that we will succeed, but if we don’t question ourselves, we are almost certain to fail. Once we get clear on what motivates us, we might simply drop whatever we were considering if we find that our intention isn’t good. But, if the intention is good, then we can move onto the next question: לְמִשְׁפְּחֹתָ֖ם – by their families… “Family” consists of those close to us, those we for whom we are responsible and those who are responsible for us, reminding us to inquire: “How will this action affect others?” For example, when considering looking at the news or social media, our intention might be good – we want to be informed. But in asking ourselves how this could affect others, we might realize that, in a given moment, our concern with the horrors of world events could sabotage our ability to be present for our immediate responsibility toward those around us. This brings us to the final question: בְּמִסְפַּ֣ר שֵׁמ֔וֹת כָּל־זָכָ֖ר לְגֻלְגְּלֹתָֽם – by the number of names, every male, head by head… Once we are able to “name” our both our intention behind a decision and what the likely effect of this decision will be, we have to “number” it – we must ask, “Is it worth it?” In other words, if our intention is good but the consequences may be dire, we need to ask which “counts” more; we need to evaluate and decide. Again, this is no guarantee that we will make the right choice, but if we don’t evaluate and decide, it is likely we will make the wrong choice. And if, after careful thinking the situation through, we do happen to make the wrong choice, this too has goodness to it, because we will learn from it. This two-part process of “lifting the head,” that is, the stripping away of thought through meditation, followed by the “numbering of names,” that is, careful evaluation of purpose and consequence, is represented in Kabbalah by the dual sefirot on the Tree of Life of Hokhmah, “Wisdom” – awareness, insight; and Binah, “Understanding” – that is, focused thinking. In this way, there is no contradiction in the advice to “think more” and the advice to “think less” – they are two parts of one process for awakening wisdom: the oscillation between relaxing the thinking mind in meditation, and the deep focusing of the thinking mind in contemplation.
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Parshah Summary – P’sha
The parshah begins with the promise that through the mitzvot, the Children of Israel will enjoy not only spiritual wellbeing, but also material prosperity as well, and they will dwell securely in the land. There is also a warning of the future exile, persecution and other suffering that will befall them if they abandon the Covenant. “Nevertheless,” God says, “Even when they are in the land of their enemies, I will not cast them away…for I am Hashem, their God.” The parshah concludes with instructions concerning voluntary contributions to the Temple, and the mitzvah of tithing produce and livestock.
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
אִם־בְּחֻקֹּתַ֖י תֵּלֵ֑כוּ וְאֶת־מִצְוֺתַ֣י תִּשְׁמְר֔וּ וַעֲשִׂיתֶ֖ם אֹתָֽם׃ וְנָתַתִּ֥י גִשְׁמֵיכֶ֖ם בְּעִתָּ֑ם וְנָתְנָ֤ה הָאָ֙רֶץ֙ יְבוּלָ֔הּ וְעֵ֥ץ הַשָּׂדֶ֖ה יִתֵּ֥ן פִּרְיֽוֹ׃ If with My decrees you walk, and My commandments you guard to do them, I will provide your rains in their time; the earth shall give its produce; the trees of the field their fruit… - Vayikra (Leviticus) 26:3,4
In Martin Buber’s 1909 essay called “Judaism and the Jews,” Buber asks a powerful question:
Where is there among Jews a Divine fervor that would drive them from their busyness in society into an authentic life? Where is there fulfillment? Where is there a community dominated not by Jewish inertia (called, “tradition”), nor by Jewish adaptability (that “purified,” that is, soulless “Judaism” of a “humanitarianism” embellished with “monotheism”), but by Jewish religiosity in its immediacy, by an elemental God-consciousness? Buber is criticizing both Orthodox Judaism and the German Reform Judaism of his day, saying that neither one is expressing the real thing. Then comes the punchline – what he considers to be the real thing: An elemental God consciousness. What does that mean? גֵּ֣ר אָנֹכִ֣י בָאָ֑רֶץ אַל־תַּסְתֵּ֥ר מִ֝מֶּ֗נִּי מִצְותֶֽיךָ – I am a stranger in the land; do not hide your commandments from me! (Psalm 119:19) The grandson of the Baal Shem Tov, Rabbi Baruch of Mezhibuz taught on this verse that this is like when you travel to a foreign land – you don’t speak the language, the customs are strange, and you feel alienated. Then, you meet another traveler from your homeland, also a stranger, and you become great friends with that person, since you are both strangers. If you had met the traveler in your own land, you may never have become friends, but because you both share the experience of being foreigners, you become close. And so it is with us and God: When we feel alienated, disconnected from our lives and others around us, that emotional pain can be the very motivation we need to find “the stranger” – meaning, to find the sacred dimension of Being. If it weren’t for that pain, we may never have been motivated to try meditation; we may have continued to look for fulfillment solely in the material realm. But it doesn’t stop there: אַל־תַּסְתֵּ֥ר מִ֝מֶּ֗נִּי מִצְותֶֽיךָ – do not hide your commandments from me… Why this demand? Isn’t the experience of connection with the Divine through meditation enough? No– if connection with the sacred remains only an experience, even a really wonderful, restorative, liberating experience, it will only be temporary. In order for that connection to be radically transformative, it has to be lived – it has to be expressed in our words and deeds: אִם־בְּחֻקֹּתַ֖י תֵּלֵ֑כוּ – If with My decrees you walk… Traditionally, the word חוֹק hok, “decree,” implies not the common sense mitzvot (commandments) like respecting your parents or not stealing, but rather the particularistic practices that don’t make obvious rational sense, such as not eating certain animals. For the person who observes these types of חֻקִּים hukim (religious rules), they may speculate about their reasoning, but ultimately they must be accepted simply because they are the way they are. That is their reasoning; it how traditional Judaism functions as a spiritual path. Through the acceptance of non-rational religious restrictions upon oneself, ego is (or at least can be) transcended; meaning, the separate self that emerges from identification with the mind and thought can be dethroned, opening the possibility for discovering who we are beyond that ego-self. But there is a far greater חוֹק hok, a vastly more incomprehensible reality right before us, regardless of whether we observe the traditional restrictions or not – and that is very the fact of Existence Itself! We can understand many things, but when we confront the question of why there is anything at all, we are brought to the threshold that leads beyond the domain of mind and thinking. To “walk” with this חוֹק hok, then, means to live with awareness of this greatest Mystery – the Mystery of Being, which is not different from the Mystery of our own being. This is the “stranger” who becomes our intimate companion – it is the realization that the mystery of our own existence is the same as the Mystery of Existence – the ever-present miracle, the greatest gift and the greatest fulfillment, hidden in plain sight. וְאֶת־מִצְוֺתַ֣י תִּשְׁמְר֔וּ וַעֲשִׂיתֶ֖ם אֹתָֽם׃ – and My commandments you guard to do them… But our next step is to allow our awareness of this Mystery to become a calling; this inexplicable miracle of Being is upon us, as us – how do we respond? Our answer to this question is how we, in the words of Buber, “transmute the Divine from an abstract Truth into a Living Reality” – that is Elemental God Consciousness. But to do that requires a radical attentiveness, moment by moment, so that we may embrace the whole of life – especially the ordinary, the tedious, even the annoying and stressful – and dedicate it to the Divine, making life into a service of the sacred. In Jewish meditation, this is the Path of ק Koof – “sanctification of the ordinary.”
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Parshah Summary – P’sha
The parshah opens on Mount Sinai (b’har – “on the mountain”) with the laws of the Sabbatical year: every seventh year, all work on the land should cease, and its produce becomes free for all to take, human and beast alike. Seven Sabbatical cycles are followed by a fiftieth year-- Yovel, or “Jubilee” year, on which, in addition to ceasing work on the land, all indentured servants are set free, and all ancestral estates that have been sold revert to their original owners. Additional laws governing the sale of lands, and the prohibitions against fraud and usury, are also given.
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
וַיְדַבֵּ֤ר יי אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה בְּהַ֥ר סִינַ֖י לֵאמֹֽר׃ דַּבֵּ֞ר אֶל־בְּנֵ֤י יִשְׂרָאֵל֙ וְאָמַרְתָּ֣ אֲלֵהֶ֔ם כִּ֤י תָבֹ֙אוּ֙ אֶל־הָאָ֔רֶץ אֲשֶׁ֥ר אֲנִ֖י נֹתֵ֣ן לָכֶ֑ם וְשָׁבְתָ֣ה הָאָ֔רֶץ שַׁבָּ֖ת לַיי׃ שֵׁ֤שׁ שָׁנִים֙ תִּזְרַ֣ע שָׂדֶ֔ךָ וְשֵׁ֥שׁ שָׁנִ֖ים תִּזְמֹ֣ר כַּרְמֶ֑ךָ וְאָסַפְתָּ֖ אֶת־תְּבוּאָתָֽהּ׃ וּבַשָּׁנָ֣ה הַשְּׁבִיעִ֗ת שַׁבַּ֤ת שַׁבָּתוֹן֙ יִהְיֶ֣ה לָאָ֔רֶץ שַׁבָּ֖ת לַיי שָֽׂדְךָ֙ לֹ֣א תִזְרָ֔ע וְכַרְמְךָ֖ לֹ֥א תִזְמֹֽר׃ Hashem spoke to Moses on Mount Sinai: Speak to the Children of Israel and say to them: When you come into the land that I give to you, the land shall rest a sabbath of Hashem. Six years you may sow your field and six years you may prune your vineyard and gather in the yield. But in the seventh year the land shall have a Sabbath of complete rest, a Sabbath for Hashem: you shall not sow your field or prune your vineyard… - Vayikra (Leviticus) 25:1-4; Parshat Behar
The Kotzker Rebbe (Polish Hasidic leader, 1787–1859) once surprised a group of learned men with the question: “Where is God?” They laughed at him, assuming that he must be thinking of God as a limited being that would exist in once place and not in others. “Of course, God is everywhere! As it says, מְלֹ֥א כׇל־הָאָ֖רֶץ כְּבוֹדֽוֹ m’lo kol ha’aretz k’vodo – “The whole world is filled with the Divine Presence!” (Isaiah 6:3)
“No,” replied the Kotzker, “God is wherever you let God in.” The brilliance of the Kotzker’s answer is that, at first glance, he seems to be articulating a great heresy: human beings have the supreme power of “letting God in,” and without their permission, God cannot enter? The irony is that the “learned men” in the story were mystics, from the community of hasidim that was already considered heretical by the mainstream rabbinate of that time. The ordinary understanding, like today, was of God as a supreme entity who “dwells” in certain holy places, and not in other more profane places. The mystical hasidim, on the other hand, understood everything to be part of God, and they quoted a pasuk from scripture as a prooftext for their view: The whole world is filled with the Divine Presence – meaning, God is not a limited entity, but is rather the very substance of Reality, ever-present as the Ground of Being. But the Kotzker takes it a step further, and in so doing, changes the meaning of the word “God” from being ontological to being descriptive of a relationship; “God” is not something we can describe in the third person as an objective reality, but It rather comes into being in the second person as a relational reality. How do we “let God in?” How does God “come into being” by the way we relate to Realtiy? שַׁבָּ֖ת לַיהֹוָ֑ה שָֽׂדְךָ֙ לֹ֣א תִזְרָ֔ע וְכַרְמְךָ֖ לֹ֥א תִזְמֹֽר – a Sabbath for Hashem: you shall not sow your field or prune your vineyard… One way is by giving a Shabbat, a rest, to the land which feeds us, with the intention of recognizing God as the Giver of all sustenance. אֵ֣ת סְפִ֤יחַ קְצִֽירְךָ֙ לֹ֣א תִקְצ֔וֹר וְאֶת־עִנְּבֵ֥י נְזִירֶ֖ךָ לֹ֣א תִבְצֹ֑ר שְׁנַ֥ת שַׁבָּת֖וֹן יִהְיֶ֥ה לָאָֽרֶץ׃ The aftergrowth of your harvest you shall not harvest, and the grapes you set aside for yourself you shall not pick; a year of Shabbat it shall be for the land.” In this verse, a “Sabbath for the land” means, it seems, not only to stop farming, but also to not take anything from its bounty. But then we read: וְ֠הָיְתָ֠ה שַׁבַּ֨ת הָאָ֤רֶץ לָכֶם֙ לְאׇכְלָ֔ה לְךָ֖ וּלְעַבְדְּךָ֣ וְלַאֲמָתֶ֑ךָ וְלִשְׂכִֽירְךָ֙ וּלְתוֹשָׁ֣בְךָ֔ הַגָּרִ֖ים עִמָּֽךְ׃ וְלִ֨בְהֶמְתְּךָ֔ וְלַֽחַיָּ֖ה אֲשֶׁ֣ר בְּאַרְצֶ֑ךָ תִּהְיֶ֥ה כׇל־תְּבוּאָתָ֖הּ לֶאֱכֹֽל׃ The Sabbath of the land shall be for you to eat; for you, and for your servant, and for your maid, and for your hired servant, and for the stranger who sojourns with you, even your animals and the even the wild animals that are in the land – all of its crops shall be for eating. It sounds like a contradiction. First it’s saying you can’t pick or harvest anything, then it’s saying not only are you allowed to eat it, but everyone else is allowed to eat it too! But let’s look at the verse more carefully: אֵ֣ת סְפִ֤יחַ קְצִֽירְךָ֙ לֹ֣א תִקְצ֔וֹר – The aftergrowth of your harvest you shall not harvest… The distinction here is not whether you are allowed to eat the crops or not, but whether you are allowed to consider them as your crops alone. And this hints at the inner meaning of Shabbat in realtion to ownership .What does it mean to own something? It means viewing the world through our own mental constructs of the world, rather than simply seeing things as they are. Ownership, after all, doesn’t really exist outside of the idea of ownership that we impose on the world. And when we impose our ideas onto reality, not just the idea of ownership but all of our judgments and opinions, it requires a tremendous amount of energy and ultimately creates a sense of separation between “me” and “the world,” between what is “out there” and the “me” who is seeing it, interacting with it, and judging it. רַבִּי אֶלְעָזָר אִישׁ בַּרְתּוֹתָא אוֹמֵר, תֶּן לוֹ מִשֶּׁלּוֹ, שֶׁאַתָּה וְשֶׁלְּךָ שֶׁלּוֹ. וְכֵן בְּדָוִד הוּא אוֹמֵר (דברי הימים א כט) כִּי מִמְּךָ הַכֹּל וּמִיָּדְךָ נָתַנּוּ לָךְ Rabbi Elazar of Bartotha said: give to Him of that which is His, for you and that which is yours is His; and thus it says with regards to David: “for everything comes from You, and from Your own hand have we given you” (I Chronicles 29:14). When we see the world not only as coming from God and as part of God, but we also offer ourselves in relationship with God, realizing that everything we offer is also God, then we can really rest from imposing our dualistic, self-centered ideas about ownership, as well as all other ideas .This sense of offering, together with the deep restfulness that comes from letting go of duality, are the essence of prayer and meditation, and they also comprise the inner dimension of Shabbat. As in the normative practice today, Shabbat is definitely not a resting from eating, but a resting from the separate “me” that believes it owns things. On Shabbat, everything is as it really is – part of One Reality – and our observance of Shabbat is understood to be a serving of that One, while our ability to observe Shabbat is received as a gift from that One. In this way, Shabbat is both a mutual act of love between us and the Divine, a way of “letting God in,” and also a way of transcending duality altogether – מְלֹ֥א כׇל־הָאָ֖רֶץ כְּבוֹדֽוֹ – the whole world is filled with the Divine Presence. How do we accomplish this? וּלְתוֹשָׁ֣בְךָ֔ הַגָּרִ֖ים עִמָּֽךְ – and for the strangers who sojourn with you… We accomplish it through the great mitzvah of hospitality, through Shabbat as a time to welcome people into our homes and share meals together. On the deepest level, the mitzvah of hospitality is both an expression and a cultivation of our inner hospitality, of welcoming this moment as it is, right now; this is the Path of ב Bet.
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Parshah Summary – P’sha
The parshah opens with special laws for the kohanim (priests) and sacrificial offerings, including laws about ritual impurity, marriage, and the animals that may be offered. Included are the laws that a newborn calf, lamb or kid must be left with its mother for seven days before being eligible as an offering, and that one may not slaughter an animal and its offspring on the same day. The second part of Emor lists the festivals: the weekly Shabbat; the bringing of the Passover offering on the 14th of Nissan; the seven-day Passover festival beginning on 15 Nissan; the bringing of the Omer offering from the first barley harvest on the second day of Passover, and the 49-day “Counting of the Omer,” culminating in the festival of Shavuot on the fiftieth day; a “remembrance of shofar blowing” on the 1st of Tishrei (Rosh Hashanah); a solemn fast day on the 10th of Tishrei (Yom Kippur); the festival of Sukkot, beginning on the 15th of Tishrei, which involves the practices of dwelling in huts for seven days and the ritual of the “Four Species”; and finally the holiday of the eighth day of Sukkot, called Shmini Atzeret.
The parshah then discusses the lighting of the menorah and the lekhem hapanim (the “showbread”), which is placed on a special table each week. Emor concludes with the penalties for murder and for injuring one’s fellow or destroying their property.
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
וַיֹּ֤אמֶר יְי אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה אֱמֹ֥ר אֶל־הַכֹּהֲנִ֖ים בְּנֵ֣י אַהֲרֹ֑ן וְאָמַרְתָּ֣ אֲלֵהֶ֔ם לְנֶ֥פֶשׁ לֹֽא־יִטַּמָּ֖א בְּעַמָּֽיו׃ כִּ֚י אִם־לִשְׁאֵר֔וֹ הַקָּרֹ֖ב אֵלָ֑יו... Hashem said to Moses, ‘Speak to the priests, the sons of Aaron, and tell them that they should not defile themselves for a (dead) person among their people, except for close relatives…’ - Vayikra (Leviticus) 21:1-2; Parshat Emor
There is a story that Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev was visiting Rabbi Shmelke of Nikolsburg. They had both been students of the great Maggid of Mezritch, but Rabbi Shmelke was older, and Levi Yitzhak considered him to be his teacher as well. On the first morning, Levi Yitzhak came down from the guest room with his tefillin and tallis on, ready to go to shul to daven, when he stopped in the kitchen and began conversing with the cooks. (Rabbi Shmelke was apparently quite well off and had his own cooks.) He asked them what they were making, and questioned them about their methods as if he were concerned that the food wouldn’t be good enough. When some disciples stopped by on their way to shul and overheard all this, they frowned in disapproval.
At the synagogue, Levi Yitzhak didn’t pray, but spent all his time talking loudly in the back of the sanctuary to a man who was considered to be annoying and unlearned. Eventually, one of the hasidim couldn’t take it anymore. “You mustn’t have conversation in here!” But, Levi Yitzhak simply went on talking loudly and disturbing everyone. Later, when all the hasidim gathered for lunch, Rabbi Shmelke treated Levi Yitzhak with the utmost honor, giving him food to eat from his own bowl. Later, the hasidim asked their rebbe about this strange man who talked so obnoxiously about such mundane things. Why did the rebbe honor him so? Rabbi Shmelke replied, “In the Talmud, the rabbi known as Rab (Abba Areka) is praised for never engaging in worldly speech. How could it be that this is what he was praised for? Does this mean that the other rabbis did engage in worldly speech? Rather, it means that when he engaged in worldly speech, he did so with such kavanah that Divine blessings flowed into this world with every word. Other rabbis could accomplish this for a short time, but eventually their worldly speech would drag them down. It is the same with Levi Yitzhak and myself. What I can do for a short time, he can do all day long; with his seemingly mundane conversations, he is bringing heaven down to earth.” Generally speaking, it is better not to blabber on loudly in synagogue; that is obviously the right and good way to behave. But, we also need to know how to leave the normative box of the obvious good in order to access the hidden good. לְנֶ֥פֶשׁ לֹֽא־יִטַּמָּ֖א בְּעַמָּֽיו׃ – they should not defile (yitama) themselves for a (dead) person among their people. On one hand, it is beneficial to be know what makes us tamei, that is, spiritually “dead” inside, and avoid those things. Is it too much news or social media? Is it dealing with particularly difficult people? Is it your job, or certain kinds of entertainment, or some addictive substance? To be on the spiritual path means we have to take responsibility for what experiences we take in, just as those on a path of physical health must take responsibility for what food they take in. This is לֹֽא־יִטַּמָּ֖א lo yitama – don’t pollute yourself with dangerous experiences… כִּ֚י אִם־לִשְׁאֵר֔וֹ הַקָּרֹ֖ב אֵלָ֑יו... – except for close relatives… At the same time, we also need to sometimes do the opposite, because if we try to avoid it completely, we can never grow spiritually in our ability to be at peace in the midst of disturbance. Furthermore, on a deeper level, the avoidance itself can become a kind of defilement. Guarding ourselves from disturbances is necessary, but it can also become a neurotic attempt to control our experience; life happens and we must meet it, not avoid it. הַקָּרֹ֖ב אֵלָ֑יו... – those close to him… In general, we should do what we can to live in a spiritually conducive environment. But when disturbance comes along, we need to know how to be קָּרֹ֖ב karov – how to come close, meaning be present – with whatever has arisen. In the state of Presence, the disturbance is felt to come and then go; we deal with whatever we need to deal with and then let go of it. In this way, we strengthen our connection with that which remains through all of it: the inner spaciousness of consciousness in which all experience arises. לֹֽא־יִטַּמָּ֖א – they should not defile (yitama) themselves… The word for “defilement” or “spiritual impurity” is טוּמאָה tumah, and one who is “impure” is טָמֵא tamei. These words begin with the letter ט tet, which also begins the word טוֹב tov, “good.” The letter ט tet is shaped in such a way that it points into itself – thus symbolizing the “goodness” that is hidden within. How do we access this hidden goodness? We do it by becoming קָּרֹ֖ב karov, bringing our awareness into close connection with whatever messiness we are dealing with. And so this is our paradoxical task: to guard ourselves against things that drag us down spiritually, but also to sometimes transform those things into vehicles for the spirit. How do you know when to take which approach? The key is Presence; life itself conveys to us which path to take if we are listening.
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Parshah Summary – P’sha
Parshat Kedoshim consists of the many mitzvot (commandments) through which the Torah envisions a sanctified life, including the prohibition against idolatry, the mitzvah of charity, the principle of equality before the law, Shabbat, sexual boundaries, honesty in business, honor of one’s parents, and the sacredness of life in general. Among these mitzvot is the famous principle which the great sage Rabbi Akiva called the essence of Torah, and of which Hillel said, “This is the entire Torah, the rest is commentary:
וְאָֽהַבְתָּ֥ לְרֵעֲךָ֖ כָּמ֑וֹךָ – and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.
Torah of Awakening | Jewish Meditation Teaching
וַיְדַבֵּ֥ר יְהֹ–וָ֖ה אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֥ה לֵּאמֹֽר׃ דַּבֵּ֞ר אֶל־כׇּל־עֲדַ֧ת בְּנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֛ל וְאָמַרְתָּ֥ אֲלֵהֶ֖ם קְדֹשִׁ֣ים תִּהְי֑וּ כִּ֣י קָד֔וֹשׁ אֲנִ֖י יְהֹ–וָ֥ה אֱלֹהֵיכֶֽם׃ Hashem spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the whole community of the Children of Israel and say to them: Holy ones you shall be, for I, Hashem your God, am holy. - Vayikra (Leviticus) 19:1, 2; Parshat Kedoshim
A disciple of Rabbi Dov Baer, the Maggid of Mezritch, started home after studying with the Maggid for many years. On his way he stopped in Karlin to see his old friend Rabbi Aaron, who had once been his learning companion in the Maggid’s Beit Midrash (House of Study). It was already midnight by the time he arrived in the city, but he was so excited to see his old friend, he made his way to Rabbi Aaron’s house right away. When he arrived, he could see some light coming from the window, so he looked in and saw his old friend learning from books at the table by candlelight. Excited to see him, he knocked on the window enthusiastically. Rabbi Aaron looked up from his books: “Who is there?”
“It is I!” exclaimed the disciple. Rabbi Aaron looked back down at his books and continued studying. The student waited a bit, then knocked again, and again, but no reply. “Aaron, why don’t you open the door for me?” Rabbi Aaron looked up and spoke with grave seriousness: “Who is it that dares to call himself “I” as befits only God?” When the disciple heard this, he realized that he had not learned nearly enough, so he immediately turned around and headed back toward Mezritch. Through all our life experiences, we tend to take for granted the one common element at the root of them all – the “I” that is having the experiences. What is this “I” that we feel we are? הוּא הָיָה אוֹמֵר, אִם אֵין אֲנִי לִי, מִי לִי. וּכְשֶׁאֲנִי לְעַצְמִי, מָה אֲנִי. וְאִם לֹא עַכְשָׁיו, אֵימָתָי: He used to say, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? And if I am for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?” - Pirkei Avot 1:14 This little aphorism of the famous sage Hillel, which is often (mis) understood only on an ethical level, actually contains a formula for discovering our deepest identity: אִם אֵין אֲנִי לִי, מִי לִי – If I am not for myself, who will be for me? It is up to us to realize who we really are; no one can do it for us. We can do this by noticing that there is, in a sense, two of “me” – the “me” that is made out of my body and mind and feelings, and the “I” that perceives all of that. Which “me” am I? “I” am not the “self” that “I” perceive – the body, the thoughts, the feelings – rather, “I” am the awareness that perceives those elements. וְאִם לֹא עַכְשָׁיו, אֵימָתָי – And if not Now, when? There is a way we can know this for ourselves, and that is to be attentive to whatever is present in experience; this meditation. The point is not the content of experience, but rather the act of being aware. Through the intentional act of awareness, we can come to know ourselves as that awareness, as that Presence. This deepest level of our identity, infusing yet also separate from our thoughts, feelings, senses, and all that normally is taken to be “me,” is also the root of what we might call the “sacred” or “holy” – קָד֔וֹשׁ kadosh. What is this קָד֔וֹשׁ kadosh, this quality of “holiness?” קְדֹשִׁ֣ים תִּהְי֑וּ כִּ֣י קָד֔וֹשׁ אֲנִ֖י יְה–וָ֥ה אֱלֹהֵיכֶֽם – Holy ones you shall be, for I, Hashem your God, am holy. The passage instructs the Children of Israel to be holy without explaining what it means, giving as the reason that God is holy. Why does one follow from the other? Why should we be holy just because God is holy, and what does it mean? The word קָד֔וֹשׁ kadosh means “set apart” or “separate,” but not in the ordinary sense. Normally, the word “separate” connotes distance, disconnectedness, or alienation, such as when a relationship between two people goes sour and connection is lost. But קָד֔וֹשׁ kadosh actually means the opposite; in a Jewish wedding ceremony, for example, we hear these words spoken between the beloveds: הֲרֵי אַתְּ מְקֻדֶּֽשֶׁת לִי Harei at mekudeshet li – Behold, you are holy to me… Meaning, your beloved becomes קָד֔וֹשׁ kadosh not because they are separate from you, but because they are exclusive to you. They are your most intimate, and therefore separate from all other relationships. In this way, the separateness of קָד֔וֹשׁ kadosh points not to something that is distant, but to something that’s most central. It points not to alienation, but to the deepest connection. And just as one’s spouse is separate from all other relationships, so too when we become present, this moment becomes separate from all other moments; we are able to get some distance from the world of time – from our memories about the past and our anticipations of the future. This allows us to truly experience ourselves – not as a bundle of thoughts and feelings inhabiting a body, but as the open, radiant space of awareness within which our thoughts and feelings come and go. This is why our awareness is, by its nature, קָד֔וֹשׁ kadosh – separate from the world of thought and feeling within which we can tend to become trapped, yet fully and intimately connected with everything that arises in this moment. קְדֹשִׁ֣ים תִּהְי֑וּ – You shall be holy… In other words, access the sacred dimension of your being by becoming present – by separating your mind from the entanglements of thought and time. How is this possible? כִּ֣י קָד֔וֹשׁ אֲנִ֖י יְה–וָ֥ה אֱלֹהֵיכֶֽם – for I, Hashem your God, am holy… In other words, it is because Existence Itself – which is the meaning of יְה–וָ֥ה Hashem, the Divine Name –- is already אֱלֹהֵיכֶֽם Eloheikhem, your own inner Divinity. Your deepest “I” is not your “I” at all, but is rather the “I” of the Divine; it is the “I” of Reality Itself, knowing Itself through you. And so it is not only that we can awaken to our deepest identity and recognize that we are not the ordinary “me” we thought we were, but rather, God can wake up to Itself; we play our part in Existence awakening to Itself; that is the deepest potential of קְדֹשִׁ֣ים תִּהְי֑וּ kedoshim tih’yu – not merely that we should “be holy,” but that we awaken to the holy, through being.
Read past teachings on Kedoshim HERE
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