you may not be what you eat, but what if you are?

In his partial commentary on the Shulchan Aruch, (OH 6:1) the Mishna Berurah,(6) the Hafetz Hayyim quotes what appears to be the Ariz"l, explaining that the miraculous state of man, a combination of spiritual and physical, one of the wonders for which we praise God, is brought about specifically through eating.

"The soul benefits from the spiritual element of the food, and the body benefits from the physical element of the food, and it is through this very mechanism, food, that they are brought together."

That's an amazing revelation. (Here I am trying to learn more halachah, but it's the secrets incidentally revealed in the halachah that speak to me the most)

[Of note: this sounds similar to the Noam Elimelech's comment that the whole purpose of this world is to eat.]

If we reexamine eating from this perspective, it can change our entire world. What we eat affects how, when, and if our souls are bound to our bodies and vice versa. It also tells us that the secret in allowing the soul to reign over the body begins and ends with which food we eat and how we consume it.

Be aware of what you eat and how it affects you; especially how it affects your service of God.

At the very least, be careful about making the appropriate berachot before and after whatever you eat, even that deceptively simple step can be enough to give you a new dimension to your spirituality you never knew existed.

the wild animals

HaShem settled us in the Holy Land slowly, lest the wild animals become numerous and overwhelm us.

This is the secret of coming close to HaShem. When we grow in holiness gradually, with humility and patience, then we will inhabit the whole 'Land,' the entirety of our spiritual portion/potential.

But if we try to rush, the wild animals, the yetzer hara of ego and hunger, will grow too strong and overpower us.

This is why Yaakov's path, as a sincere student dwelling in the house of Torah was successful, and why l'havdil, Esav's path of action, a man of the field, was unsuccessful.

the tzaddik's bread crumbs

The Tzaddik's affect on our lives after his has moved beyond this world:

1. The depth of our love for the Tzaddik in his lifetime and after his death draws down his midot (love of God, fear of God, and pure Faith (emunah) in God) to be clothed within our own minds so that we too can act with these same attributes as we are now able to grasp and understand what we were previously only able to observe from a distance through the Tzaddik's actions and words. 
   
2. When we implement the Tzaddik's lessons in our lives, the light of the Tzaddik shines down upon us, encompassing us, and this inspires us to true teshuvah and divine service.

These are the two general ways the Tzaddik lives on with us even after he has (for the most part) left this world and moved on to the stages that come after life here, as described in the Zohar and explained here by the first Lubavitcher Rebbe in the Tanya, section four, 27th letter.

It seems to me that there is a clear microcosmic example here of our interaction with God: As the Baal HaTanya explains, God both permeates all of creation and ecompasses it. In a more limited sense, the effect a Tzaddik has on our lives is also described in these two ways, one that permeates our minds and one that encompasses them.

[We learned this letter this past Shabbath in the memory (לע"נ) of my father in law, HaRav Meir Benayahu ben HaRav Yitzhak Nissim, ztz"l]

Signs of the times

There is a lot happening in the world. There's always a lot happening in the world. The issue is more of a question of whether what's happening is of interest to anyone.

Yes there are tremendous things I feel happening, amazing shifts to spirituality. But how do I know these things aren't always happening?

When I say I feel something happening, it might make other people more sensitive to the fact that something is happening. Which means it might cascade. It doesn't take much to create a situation where the cascade is so amplified by feedback it creates a tremendous urgency. 

Nowadays, if you get on a crowded plane and start acting nervous and telling people you have a really bad feeling that something will happen, the more serious you get the more everyone will go nuts with panic -- there might be no real danger at all, but you will sensitize others to feelings of danger that always accompany flying and they will feel them and think they are stronger.

The trick is with spiritual developments and progress, being a subjective person, it's very hard to tell the difference between things happening to you and things happening to the world. (At least I know I can't tell the difference.) 

Rebbe Nachman teaches that our own interpersonal relationships mirror what is happening on a macroscopic scale, yet I would stress that we need to really develop the eyes to understand and internalize those ideas. On the other hand, the Baal Shem Tov's Torah may seem a little solipsistic. The BeSh"T says that everything you experience is part of HaShem's communication with you. It's not hard to combine the two lessons and realize that they're closely related, but still, it means that its hard to extrapolate from our own experience about where the world is holding, as the Talmud teaches "the whole world was created just for you." 

When you're young does it mean the world is young? When you grow old does it mean the world is growing old? No. But, there are parallels you can draw. As we saw yesterday, macrocosmic stages also play out on the microcosm. When you grow old, there is an aspect of the world growing old: your generation is aging too, which means the ideas, merits, strengths and weaknesses of your generation are on the wane as a whole. Still, in the world there is a vivifying force of new ideas, merits, strengths and weaknesses in the waxing of another generation. Just as the progress of each day plays out in miniature some form or element of the progress of the year. 

What I'm getting at is this: Everyone knows that the world develops in a cyclical fashion. Yet, at the same time, everyone, unless they really stop to think about it, believes that spiritual growth is linear on the whole. We even have a principle that says as much, "We ascend in holiness but do not descend." This can be said to accurately describe historic progress. (something I once wrote about.) However, this is talking about net ascension. 

In Judaism we have another principle involved in growth and progress: Ratz, running, and Shav, returning. In a very simple sense ratz can be seen as rising and shav as falling. On the whole we're always making progress but to do so we run for a while and then sit/return and rest. It's the tortoise model of progress. It's really the only true way progress happens in the world. A child grows physically, then growth slows and they learn how to use their new bodies, and then they grow again and so on. 

Everything works that way. In cycles. We grow and develop in cycles. Cycles of days, of weeks of months, years and larger landmarks from bar mitzwah to wedding to parenthood to parents of bar mitzwahs, to parents of the bride or groom, to grandparents and so on.

Spirituality too. Yes there is something in the air. Something really deep and spiritual. But it doesn't mean this is the time around when everything we've been waiting so long for has got to happen.

I'm not trying to rain on anyone's parade, I'm trying to teach us to work deeper. Think about it, there are even more amazing implications. In the classic view of what's gone down so far in history, there's been many false messiahs, false hysteria about the coming of messiahs and so on. 

In our "new" view, each wave of that expectance, that new enlightenment, was a period of ratz, historically. It's not that it was 'so close' but didn't happen. It was that it was always getting closer, and we needed to reach that stage to grow to the next stage.

Again we are clearly at a momentous point of running spiritually. Whether this is the last or there will still be more is a great question, what a question! But it's beyond the point. The point is that we teach that the true masters of Ratz and Shav know that the secret of Shav is that it's a form of running too, just a different kind. 

Rebbe Nachman teaches that when we step inside, reach a deeper spiritual level, we find we're back on the outside again; ah, but the outside of the next deeper spiritual level. Ratz and Shav is the same. We "return" to ourselves to seek out the next deeper spiritual level. [From this we can see how it is true that not only 'net' (as opposed to what we said earlier) but even when we speak in 'gross' terms, we are always rising in holiness.]

Whether this is the final lap or not is irrelevant to our work, to our immediate lives, we need to work like it's never going to be done. This is a novel way to understand "lo alecha haM'lachah l'gmor" -- Normally rendered, "you don't have to finish the work, [but you can't give it up entirely,]" On a deeper level it's "you shouldn't work in an attempt to finish it, [instead you should work as if you can keep the pace up forever.]"  In other words don't sprint, jog. That's the way to get the farthest, always pace yourself for the long haul. 

But it's deeper still.

The true masters of running and returning, they know when they crest one wave, not only can they see the farthest, but if they ride the wave down they can propel themselves to the next wave at amazing speed.  [this is discussed outright in the Mishnah in a story about Rebbe Meir Baal HaNess and Rabi Akiva]

When we master the long haul, when we give up trying to worry about when we've reached the end, that's when we're really making the most progress spiritually. Because as long as we think there's an end, how can we relate to God? God's endless. Ein sof.

Want to see Moshiah in your days? Keep your eyes open when you crest the wave, but don't think for a second that you're about to reach shore or else you will exhaust yourself, emotionally, spiritually, physically, and you will give up too soon, maybe minutes too soon.

This is what it means that the Tzaddikim (both of today and those that have long since passed on) live in a perpetual revellation of Moshiah, they're surfing those waves and glimpse the goal every time they crest one.

living in the microcosm

I'd like to fuse two teachings, and from them draw a really deep (new) path to perform avodah today.

Rebbe Nachman teaches (through his principal pupil Rabi Natan) that we should serve HaShem anew every day, as if the world was created today and today is all we have.

The Arizal teaches (through his primary student Rav Hayyim Vital) that there are myriad connections between all of creation, that within any part of creation you may find aspects of every other part.

Taken together, if we want to achieve the pinacle of our avodat HaShem every single day it means each day we must start from the beginning and work our way all the way through to the end.

Yeah, I know that doesn't sound like much of a hidush, but it has a lot of interesting implications.

If all we have is today, and yet we are given a world rife with all manner of spiritual levels and perceptions, then they have to be accessible to us today.

Each day we can live through the 3 regalim, sukkoth, pesach, shavuoth. We get to experience Shabbath. We get to receive the Torah, we get to leave Egypt, free from bondage. Every day we can be forgiven for all our failings and wipe the slate clean. Every day we can start as a novice and become a talmid chacham, a tzaddik, a navi. Every day Rua'h HaKodesh is available to us.

This isn't to say that nothing takes time to accomplish, but it does mean that you can taste every spiritual level every day. We can earn a nefesh, ruah, neshamah, chayah, yechidah each day. Anything you've ever learned about or heard about is attainable, within your grasp, today.

It's not a simple concept it's a really involved one, so I'll try and explain the little bit I can understand: Everything is interconnected. This means that while I might be holding on a very low spiritual level, the level that I'm on is comprised of many different levels, the highest of those share something of the nature of the highest spiritual levels that exist. This means there is a spiritual level attainable today that is akin to 'prophecy' on the level at which you are holding.

Think about, for those who worry about yesterday, think about how much is available to you today, regardless of yesterday. For those of you who hope to attain something some day? Why wait when it's all available to you today? Better yet, if you think it's a one-time thing you will accomplish sometime in your life, know that when you get there, you will realize, wow, there's still so far to go, why not start now? See how far you can get today; not this week, not this year, today. That's a small enough amount of time to work in order to see results.

It's not a trick, it's a reality. But know that to get there you have to pursue with sincerity, with discipline and with all your heart. It's exactly as the talmud promises: "When someone tells you they tried and didn't achieve, don't believe them." God doesn't gain pleasure from seeing you fail. You are the only one comforted by your failure, if you are looking for excuses to give up trying.

What have you got to lose? 24 hours? How much can you attain in that time, you and I both wouldn't believe it? Rabi cried on several occasions, "There are those who earn their [place in the] world [to come] in an hour."

no way out - gotta keep going

It may take years for you to experience the results of your efforts in Avodat HaShem, but be sure, if you stick to it, you will see results.

Rebbe Nachman explains that even the feeling that you have grown more distant from HaShem is really a sign that you are making vast progress.

Even stronger though, is this beautiful argument: When you feel like you aren't getting anywhere and you haven't even begun to draw close to HaShem then (1) Either you are actually close, and it's the yetzer trying to make you give up on your avodah, or (2) if you are really so far away from HaShem, then every little act you do makes so much progress!

(Likkutei Moharan II:48)

the friction of progress

An Art teacher in university once imparted, "the worst response an artist can get is no response." People in general like to get some sort of reaction, whether good or bad. It's easiest to see it in children, they're desire for attention is entirely value-agnostic. Children don't mind getting anger out of their parents, as long as they get some kind of attention. Which is the number one reason to ignore obnoxious behavior rather than reward it with a punishment. (as long as you then reward positive behavior, offering them an alternative outlet.)

This nature is true on a spiritual level as well, yet we expect it to be the opposite. If our avodah is easy and everything goes smoothly, we think we're doing great. We need to know to look deeper and work harder. If we aren't hitting any obstacles, perhaps we aren't working on the right things. Perhaps our hearts just aren't in it, and after all it's our hearts that HaShem wants. (רחמנא ליבא בעי)

The Komarna Rebbe (Netiv Mitzwotecha, Emunah 4:5) speaks at some length about how many challengers and accusers come against the Tzaddik. Rebbe Nachman explains that these challengers protect a Tzaddik from judgements or opposition in heaven. The Komarna takes a slightly different tack explaining how the challenges themselves educate a Tzaddik about what he needs to do, and in fact prooves the righteousness of the Tzaddik.

He explains that if you don't experience any opposition, it's a sign that you aren't accomplishing very much. Those people who think they are Tzaddikim, but who never encounter strife are in fact fooling themselves.

To me, who generally avoids conflict, and who clearly doesn't do anything big enough to offend anybody, how do I take these words of Torah? Do I take it as a lesson that I need to be more intrusive and offensive? That I need to upset those around me more?

No. To me, I apply this idea on a smaller level. If my yetzer hara isn't giving me trouble, if life isn't throwing any challenges my way, and everything is going swimmingly, then I need to start to worry. But, if my yetzer is pushing all of my buttons, and small challenges are trying to crush me under their net-weight by teaming up against me, then I can rest assured I'm still making progress.

The goal isn't to find a way to feel comfortable where you are, actually it's the opposite. Just as the best exercize is happening when you're really feeling it, so too, the most spiritual growth is taking place when you feel the effort of it.

To grow, to build, you have to give it your all, you have to feel it.

breadcrumbs from komarna

The stages of avodat HaShem are many, but it helps sometimes to have a guide. The Komarna Rebbe, in his Netiv Mitzwotecha, (Netiv HaEmunah:3 the last few letters) explains three major stages of Avodah in this world:

1. Connecting Malchut to Binah - this is accomplished through cutting oneself off from the pleasures of the world, focusing intensely on Torah study. Yaakov Avinu did this in his avodah to be Yoshev Ohalim, sitting in the tent studying rather than interacting with the enticing world at large of Esav.
   
2. Connecting Malchut to Hochmah - this next stage can only be achieved through engaging the world for the sake of HaShem with deep meditations and Yichudim while performing even the most mundane of tasks. Yaakov Avinu did this in his showdown with Lavan and all of his endeavors while away from home.
   
3. Connecting Malchut to Keter - this final stage takes us beyond the world into the realm of nothingness, where we make ourselves infinitely small in the face of constant awareness of HaShem's Greatness. We see this trait in Yaakov Avinu when he returns from abroad and turns to HaShem as the source of his salvation, rather than his own merit, saying 'I have grown small from all of Your Kindness.'

After thinking about this for a few days I asked my Rav and he agreed with my assessment of this Torah:

1. Malchut to Binah - this avodah is essentially connecting to the pnimiyut, the innermost essence, of the Torah. It corresponds to connecting to Godliness in its most basic sense, Elokut, in the nomenclature of the Baal Shem Tov. (The Baal Shem Tov says that everything in the world has three major aspects Elokut (God), Olamot (Worlds), and Neshamot (Souls))
   
2. Malchut to Hochmah - this avodah is essentially connecting to the pnimiyut of the World. Which corresponds to the Baal Shem Tov's rendering of Olamot.
3. Malchut to Keter - this avodah reaches connecting to the pnimiyut of your Soul. Which is Neshamoth according to the Baal Shem Tov.

I wish we could all experience life in a straightforward and rewarding fashion, but it seems that in our modern era we are vacillating between all three avodahs in a near-constant fashion.

Ironically, it's virtually impossible to do the avodah of Chochmah or Keter without first completing our avodah of Binah.

Since we don't generally have the luxury of stopping what we are doing and starting at the beginning, we need to be aware of and incorporate these ideas into our daily life as much as we can. Perhaps when we get to learn, we can focus on the avodah of Binah, when we're invovled in the day to day we can focus on avodat Hochmah, and when we're stuck in traffic, it's a wonderful time to work on avodat Keter.

Beyond that, we have to rely on HaShem to help us succeed despite everything that stands in our way. We may not be Yaakov Avinu, but HaShem is the same HaShem that helped Yaakov Avinu.

who's eating who?

Rav Azulai in Hesed l'Avraham explains that our role in this world is to perfect ourselves in the service of HaShem, as well as to perfect the world to the same end. Adam HaRishon, through naming the animals, raised the animals up to such a level that he wasn't permitted to eat them, they were so holy. He had no tikkun, no rectification left to perform with them, and so there was no reason for him to eat them.

After eating from the tree of knowledge [of good and evil], all the animals ate as well, and they were brought to such a low extent that Noah and his sons were permitted to eat as a means to raise the animals up once more. Through eating animals, they become part of the human body, as they nourish us, and so they are raised from the level of animal, of living, to the level of man, of speaking.

However, because of our lowly level, eating doesn't completely rectify the animals back to the level of Gan Eden, for our bodies are on a lower level than the animals of Gan Eden. Which means that we must try with all our might to use the energy and life we get from consuming animals to do HaShem's will, perform mitzwoth, learn Torah, pray, and think holy thoughts. Only in this way can we return the animals to their original level. Otherwise, when we consume animals we become more animal, rather than turning the animal into man, we turn into animals ourselves.

no pain no gain

Everybody falls. Shlomo HaMelech in Mishlei tells us that even the Tzaddik falls seven times. The main thing about the Tzaddik is that he gets back up again. In fact, Habbakuk told us how the Tzaddik gets back up again: צדיק באמונתו יחיה - A Tzaddik lives by his Emunah. (his faith in HaShem)

There are many Hassidic discourses regarding this idea, foremost among them The Baal Shem Tov (father of modern Hassidut) who read the passuk slightly differenty. A Tzaddik will instill life through his Emunah. One thing that many of the sources have in common is a fact I've often overlooked, which we'll try to develop a little below.

The general dynamics of the fall and recovery go something like this: In order to attain a new level, HaShem takes away the Tzaddik's current status, and he's left with nothing but a shell of his former level. The Tzaddik, through his Emunah, continues to act and serve HaShem from the little that remains of his previous level, holding out as long as it takes until HaShem grants him a new [and higher] level.

In the past, I've always understood this to mean that the Tzaddik basically holds on, fighting with whatever strength he has, taking advantage of whatever he can in order to tread water (as it were) until HaShem recognizes the Tzaddik's faith and throws him a rope. (so to speak) Recently I noticed the recurring theme (in many of the Hassidic texts) of how the Tzaddik continues to serve HaShem specifically from the shell of his former level. When you emphasize that point, the whole exercise goes from a flailing free-for-all to a focused discipline of sorts. The Tzaddik serves HaShem [davka] from his previous level, focusing all of his energy on the certain knowledge that HaShem can be reached through the particular door that would seem to have been shut. He pursues tirelessly until he succeeds in revealing what HaShem hid from him.

Think for a second of the way a parent teaches a toddler, an example often used in this context. The father takes a step away from the child in order that he will try and take a step towards his father. Then the father takes two steps and so on. For the toddler this experience can be infruriating because all he sees is his father repeatedly abandoning him. It is only the reward and excitement that he receives as feedback when he makes it to his father that fuels him forward. Now take a toddler with the intellect of a twenty-year old. The toddler understands his father is teaching him a lesson, and may even understand that its a worthwhile lesson.

The Tzaddik is like the toddler (lehavdil) who understands and knows it is a lesson, and is striving to learn the lesson. The Tzaddik knows that if a path was open and now it's closed it is only so that he should strengthen the "muscles" of that path until he can open it again. When that path is once again open, when that "skill" is freely available to him, he will pursue HaShem in new ways, always pushing always growing.

This is one difference between the Tzaddik and the rest of us. We don't know we're toddlers. We flail around and get bored, try to pursue other things that have a lower threshold of pleasure. Things that aren't teaching us as much. "No pain no gain," has a lot of really deep truth to it. (Though it can still trip us up when misapplied.)

something new: something borrowed

In Judaism, a central (if not the central) tenet of our faith is to make other people's needs as important to us, as our own needs. This is perhaps also the most challenging of all the demands placed on a Jew. Fear not, the is a silver lining: The Noam Elimelech explains (Parashath Re'eh) that we can actually use this effect in reverse in order to help us overcome our yetzer hara. 

Normally a person is beset by many natural tendencies, or animalistic desires. A Jew is expected to channel and master these desires until he rules them, rather than the default in which they rule him. One trick we have in this near-insurmountable challenge is that we can convince ourselves that our needs are not our own, but are external to us, borrowed perhaps from someone else. Since the yetzer hara (evil urge) encourages us to be selfish and unconcerned with the needs of others, if we convince ourselves that our own needs are "borrowed" from others, then naturally we will disdain them.

This seems very weird and unnatural, not to mention ridiculous, to think of our needs as someone else's needs. But, there is a kernel of truth there, in that these desires for worldly pleasure don't actually originate with the person, but rather with his/her yetzer hara. 

Once we have worked on ourselves and have begun to conquer this stage, the Noam Elimelech's advice really starts to pay off. Since our own needs are as devalued as the needs of others, the work to make the needs of others more important, if not as important as our own personal needs becomes a lot easier. Instead of fighting an uphill battle we've now leveled the playing field.

The question, to me, becomes why did the Noam Elimelech choose to bring out this teaching from passukim related to ma'aser and bikkurim. (both of which are offerings brought to HaShem from the blessings He has bestowed upon us.) Perhaps it is because when we recognize that everything we've received is from HaShem, and not ours to begin with, we can apply this lesson not only to the positive things we've recieved but also the negative ones, like the yetzer hara, for example. After all, everything is from HaShem.

What happens in vegas stays in vegas

This common catch phrase of the modern day, "What happens in vegas stays in vegas," has a lot to teach us. I was thinking about it's analog (lehavdil) in Shabbath. About how one might say, and I have a tendency to lean that way, that what happens on Shabbath stays in Shabbath. Meaning Shabbath is completely divorced from the rest of reality and whenever I return there, I've forgotten everything else, it's my safe sanctuary from whatever else might be going on in the world.

But that isn't really what Shabbath is about, and that really isn't the way Shabbath works. In fact, our Shabbath experience is directly impacted by our preparation during the week. Likewise, our week hinges on our experience of the Shabbath that preceded it. In fact, there's a teaching of the Maor Eynayim (see: two is really just one) that explains that if we were to prepare for and keep one Shabbath properly, then all the following Shabbatoth would always work out nicely. This is a result of how much of an effect Shabbath has on the following week, and how much of an effect that week has on the following Shabbath. Once you get the ball rolling, Shabbath just gets better and better. 

This is the fundamental difference between a kli, a vessel, in kabbalah, and a klipah, a shell. A kli also means a tool, it contains in order to achieve some end beyond itself. An example might be a reservoir that stores water for an entire city, so that the city can draw off the water little by little as needed. A klipah, a shell or husk, receives but never gives back, it serves no purpose other than to receive. In biology we might describe a kli as a symbiote, while a klipah would represent a parasite.

When the Kabbalah discusses a mosquito it is viewed as the lowest of creations, because "it takes but does not give." The only creature below a mosquito is a human who chooses voluntarily to take and not to give. Otherwise, when a person is generous, choosing to receive from HaShem in order to pass on the goodness to all those in need, a human is the highest of all creations, even higher than the angels.

So, reexamining the motto, "What happens in vegas stays in vegas," we can see that the inherent values of vegas are those of receiving and keeping, without any interest in giving at all. Let's make sure all of our mitzwoth aren't vegas-style mitzwoth. May we learn in order to teach and to do, rather than just to know. May we act in order to reveal HaShem's light in the world rather than to receive reward.

May whatever we do with our lives make profound (as opposed to profane) waves in all our environs.

updated: If we stop to think about this a second more. The motto could be applied nicely to this world. What happens in this world, (olam ha'zeh) stays in this world. Whenever we do anything that has no bearing beyond the immediate now in olam ha'zeh, then that whole action stays in this world [forever.] When we focus our actions on transcending this world, [moving beyond ourselves] then our actions are always outside it, beyond it, and reach to the next world, the world to come, olam ha'ba.

golden doves versus rocks of burden

The Talmud relates a story (Berachot 53b) about Rabba bar bar Hana, who forgot to say birkat hamazon. (grace after meals) He was traveling with a group of people, when he realized that he had eaten during the previous stop in the trip, and had forgotten to bench. Since they had already travelled a fair distance, he didn't think they would wait for him to go back and bench in the place where he had eaten. (which is the preferred way to perform the mitzwah, although one is not required to go back. There's a separate story in the Talmud about a person who went back and was eaten by a lion (?) along the way before he managed to reach the place where he ate.) 

Anyways, Rabba bar bar Hana decided he would tell his compatriots that he left behind a golden dove, a prized possession, and they couldn't possibly argue with him, for something so valuable, who wouldn't go back to retrieve it? So, he gave them his newly fabricated excuse, and went back up the trail, while they waited for him. Because of Rabba bar bar Hana's great appreciation of the mitzwah, a miracle occurred and when he went back he found an actual golden dove.

Even though I'm often in favor of the literal meaning of stories in the Talmud and the importance of them, I think there's another lesson we can learn from this story. Whether the golden dove he found was actual or allegorical, I think it teaches us about the reward of performing mitzwoth. It seems to me that from this story we see that HaShem rewards us for each mitzwah in direct accordance with how WE value that mitzwah. 

If each morning we don tefillin out of the burden of the obligation, so HaShem relates to our action and rewards us also out of obligation, but it is figuratively a burden for Him too. He doesn't want to, but He has to. Instead when we are excited to put on tefillin and experience the spiritual elevation, the closeness to HaShem that this mitzwah brings us. Then HaShem figuratively is excited to elevate us and bring us close, excited to shower us with blessing.

And, with an idea like this, what better way to execute it than be truly celebrating the Shabbath, looking forward to it all week, preparing for it all week and rejoicing in it all day, every Shabbath? We can bring this understanding, this idea, this teaching down to every single mitzwah, but let's start with Shabbath, because on Shabbath we have the freedom from all the distractions of the week to really focus on the unique mitzwah that is Shabbath.

bowing before the lord

I used to think of the TV as having the redeeming quality that it teaches us about bitul. When you sit opposite the television, it's almost as if you and everything and everyone else around you ceases to exist. I thought, wow, this is great, it's kind of like (lehavdil) the neshamoth in Gan Eden sitting nullified in the light of the Shechinah, blissing out.

Thinking about it a little more recently, there are a number of places (even quoted recently here) that describe the nature of bowing down. The symbolism behind a bow is a gesture of nullifying oneself before someone (or something) else. Within the halachoth of avodah zara there is a prohibition against worshipping avodah zara in the manner in which it is worshipped. There is a second general prohibition forbidding one from bowing down before ANY avodah zara, even if that is not the way in which it is worshipped.

With this new lens I reexamined television and money as well. When we negate ourselves, even a little in the name of television, or the pursuit of money, we tread on dangerous ground. It is not bowing down outright, but it might be more extreme than actually bowing down.. because we are being moser nefesh. We are lessening our self-importance in favor of this thing, be it TV or money.

I know it may sound a little ludicrous, but stop to think that when we lessen our self-importance even the smallest bit in the pursuit of Torah or a mitzwah, it is considered being moser nefesh, giving our lives for Torah and mitzwoth, giving our lives in the name of HaShem. So, when we are giving [of] our lives to be sitting mindless in front of TV or in order to earn more money, we have to examine what it is we are doing. Are we bowing down to some external power, looking to money or TV for immediate gratification [read: salvation]? Or are we pursuing HaShem, making ourselves holy with all that is permitted to us? [קדש את עצמך במותר לך]

borrowed vessels

There's an idea, sort of a visual, that I've held for some time and it basically illustrates the point of our avodah. It explains why and how our actions in this world directly reflect our reward in the world to come.

Picture this, the sum total of your being is an empty vessel. It's a very crude empty vessel. What's it supposed to hold? Compressed light. Light, infinite light, under unimaginable pressure such that it will be contained within this now-empty vessel. The problem is this: You, the crude vessel, are riddled with imperfections. There's no way you could possibly survive the pressure of being filled. Before we can get to the purpose of the vessel, being filled, containing something, we need to perfect and complete this crude vessel.

That's this life, this world, perfecting the vessel. The world to come is what happens when the vessel is filled, or fulfilled. In our daily lives, with each mitzwah we seek out, we are hunting down those imperfections in the vessel and polishing them with the intense heat of Ahavat HaShem and Yirat Shamayim. Every now and then, the more the vessel is perfected, it is tested with the most minute amounts of light. Filled ever so slightly, so that the stresses on the vessel will reveal even more subtle imperfections. This is life, the revelations of Godliness, and the challenges of our daily toil, all to become a master craftsman, in hebrew that's an אומן, and complete the vessel. (I believe it was the Pri Ha'aretz that points out that Emunah shares the same root as Oman, a craftsman, because Emunah is something we perfect through constant effort.) 

Today I came across the Noam Elimelech (Parashath Ekev) who fleshed out and sourced the idea nicely. He said that our Ahavah and Yirah coupled with our mitzwoth are what make the vessel a proper vessel. Then, just as when someone comes to you and asks you to borrow some oil or wine, they bring with them a vessel to carry the oil or wine back, in the very same way, we bring HaShem this vessel, and He fills it with His light and returns the vessel to us. This is the meaning of the verse מה ה' אלוקך שואל מעימך?  - What does HaShem your lord [borrow] from you? HaShem 'borrows' the vessel from you, fills it with His light, and returns it.

perhaps you could call it mercy killing

The Noam Elimelech (end of Parashath Hukat) explains the statement in the Talmud about cleaving to HaShem. How do we cleave to Him? By cleaving to His Attributes, He is Merciful, you too be merciful.

You must act with great mercy towards yourself, just as He acts with great Mercy towards you. What should you do? You should devote yourself, body and soul utterly, to performing the mitzwoth, to learning the Torah, all for the sake of HaShem; in this way you bring yourself life (in this world and the next) as Chazal taught: "What shall a person do and live? Kill himself" [ie. negate himself in the service of HaShem that he should have life in the world of truth]

another weapon in the arsenal

One of the tools I've found in fighting my yetzer hara might seem counterintuitive. Normally, we are meant to do Teshuvah by saying "from now on HaShem, I'm going to do the right thing."

For someone as naturally lazy as myself, if every time I perform any kind of mitzwah it is a life-long commitment, then my yetzer hara has a very good chance of getting the better of me: "It might seem like a small mitzwah, but are you really ready to do it all the time, it's an added responsibility, it's another bother, are you really sure you want to get yourself into this?"

If, on the other hand, I tell myself: "this is an isolated act, I'm going to do the right thing this time, but I don't think I'll be able to do the right thing the next time," then my yetzer hara has a lot less to work with. Why shouldn't I do the right thing right now? There's no excruciating long-term commitment involved, in another minute it will be all over.

If I approach each mitzwah of the day this way, it's hard for the yetzer hara to get an in. Of course, the yetzer is more wily than I, so I don't think this is a long-term strategy, but it helps me when my energy levels are low, and I feel a strong desire to be lazy.

the way to a man's heart is through an analogy about his stomach

The Baal Shem Tov explains that this world is like an ice-cream* store. When you enter the store, they give you a taste of the goods, and then when you want more, they demand money. So too with HaShem, when you first begin to draw close to HaShem, everything comes easily. When you realize you want more, then HaShem makes you work for it.

* I chose the ice-cream store as the particular kind of store - which made for a simpler translation.
** this is sourced in Ketem Ofir 2:19 by the Komarna Rebbe

thirty years to power

Today, the second of the month of Shvat is the 208th* hilullah/yahrtzeit of Rebbe Zusha of Anapoli, and (on a more personal note) the 30th anniversary of the day of my brith milah. (According to the mekubalim of Bet El, the anniversary of the brith milah is celebrated instead of the day of the birth) My wife went to great efforts to throw a wonderful party and my sister spoke beautifully from the Sfat Emeth about the aliyah upon which I was born. (shlishi parashath va'era)

On this special occassion I wanted to share some Torah that would inspire my friends my family and myself to serve HaShem with renewed vigor. The Torah that came to me is as follows:

We think that serving HaShem and performing the mitzwoth, learning Torah, praying authentic Tefillah and giving Tzedaka are things that are almost impossible to attain. We believe the hardest thing in the world is to overcome our Yetzer Hara, our evil urge, and to do good. It isn't so. Serving HaShem is the most natural, easiest, and most rewarding thing in the world. Going against the Will of HaShem, going against his decrees, that is truly impossible. How do we know? It says in Masechet Sotah 3a: אין אדם עובר עבירה אלא אם כן נכנס בו רוח שטות - a person could not transgress [HaShem's Mitzwoth] except that a spirit of folly enters him. From this we learn that it is literally impossible for a person to go against the Will of the Master of the world. The only way it could possibly happen is if an external (divine) force enters a person and causes him to sin.

From this we can learn that when it seems like we couldn't possibly perform HaShem's Will, keep the mitzwoth and be involved in the Torah, we can take comfort in the certain knowledge that since we have transgressed the mitzwoth in our lives, we have evidence that the impossible is within our grasp.

Instead of our sins being a source of difficulty and discouragement, they can be a fountain of strength, if we know we did them, then we can know with absolute certainty that we can and will succeed in the performance of HaShem's mitzwoth. Certainly we will succeed, HaShem Himself, our father, Abba, wants our success.

* note that the 208th yahrtzeit is special to me as the name yitzhak also has gematria 208

nothing to speak of

To build on what we said in the last post, I'd like to go beyond it and build a little further, understand a little better.

The Baal Shem Tov (הוי זהיר במצוה קלה - near the beginning of Tzava'ath HaRivash for just one of many sources) says that we should burn brilliantly with our mitzwah performance. The Noam Elimelech (parashath Naso) explains that like a Nazir, when we really want to serve HaShem it should be to crown (נזר - crown) Him.

There's a level of mitzwah observance where we are doing everything right, and for good reasons, but where we are still aware of ourselves, still aware of the benefits we receive, still dilligent and watchful for our own wellbeing. It's almost impossible to not be aware of yourself, to not think of yourself at least in the smallest most basic and animal part of our minds.

We can be in the middle of our prayers, with a poisonous snake wrapped around our feet, and continue praying, telling ourselves that his is how I'm supposed to act, this is what the Hochamim tell me to do, I'm keeping the word of the Hochamim, I'm putting my faith in what is real. We can even know completely and totally that HaShem is the master of the world, and that we trust in Him completely. Yet through all this, there's still an I, still a self in there, still the focus is really, in the end, when you really get down to it, on us. The whole dilemma centers around our own existence, even when we define our existence as the ability to do more mitzwoth and serve HaShem for longer. Even if we are acting tirelessly with the knowledge somewhere in the back of our minds of knowing it will eventually be over and we will get a chance to rest, that is a focus and awareness of self.

First let me say that there is nothing wrong with this. May we all be blessed to reach such a level. Still, this is the difference between a Tzaddik and a Beinoni.

There is another level, and I speak from the limits of my best and brightest understanding, that is beyond this. Where there is no self, not from negation of self through meditation, or purposeful eradication of the self, but simply because the self was lost as a byproduct of our pursuit of HaShem.

At some point, the mitzwah is all that there is, the curled serpent doesn't exist, isn't part of the equation at all, and even the momentary temptation to be involved in something wrong is utterly inconceivable.

Let's talk a minute about this disgust a true tzaddik has for something evil.

This concept of mi'us, of disgust at something evil or wrong, cannot be built out of being disgusted with mundane or physical things. (Though we can and are meant to use this disgust as a learning tool.) Lehavdil, quite the opposite, no matter how physical or dirty and repulsive something might at first seem, we have to come to love it for the potential it bears to be used in the service of HaShem, in the performance of a mitzwah, the closeness it brings us to HaShem, the potential it has to glorify HaShem's name. The more we are focused on serving HaShem the more we love and appreciate everything in existence. The only thing that should repulse us is the desire to turn anything at all away from that purpose, the purpose of glorifying HaShem through His desires.

This is literally an impossible avodah. But, to really connect (without anything holding us back, ever) to HaShem who is, by definition, beyond us in every way, we need to cross the boundary of impossible.