Rabbi Zeitlin

Much is written in psychological and psychiatric literature about the dangers of over-intellectualizing.  It short-circuits our other ways of processing information, it blocks and masks our emotions and instincts.  All too often, it is trapped in the superficial, only accepting the empirical and denying all other forms knowledge can take.

This tragically inadequate approach to Torah manifests both among believers, who limit their study of Torah to ever-less relevant and unlikely halachic trivia (usually mandating ever stricter and narrower “observance”) as well as among doubters who inappropriately apply secular literary theories (often with political hidden agendas) to discredit, invalidate and trivialize the Torah itself.

Not surprisingly, our tradition already contains a remedy for this.  At the end of our daily recital of the קרבנות, Karbonot, sacrificial Temple service, we recite the Thirteen Hermeneutical Principles of Rabbi Ishmael, by which the secrets of the Torah are unlocked.  Later, most days, after the Amida (the standing, daily prayer that is the central focus of each of the three daily prayer services) and before Tachanun (a direct supplication for Divine Mercy since none of us ever go through an entire day with no mis-steps) we recite the Thirteen Principes of Divine Mercy, given to Moshe to use as an appeal when the Nation is in great trouble.

There are no coincidences in the subtle, delicate and infinitely complex Torah.  That the number thirteen is emphasized in both lists hints to us that they are, in some deep way, related.  In this case, we’re told that the process of unlocking the secrets of the Torah is exactly the same as clearing and rectifying our emotions and instincts.  In other words, we’re told, almost explicitly, that in order to properly use our minds we must, at the same time, open our emotions.  Only when our intellectual processes are filtered through our balanced emotions can they produce healthy, productive and holy action.

With less than two weeks until Shavuot, when we celebrate and re-experience receiving the Torah, the question becomes how do we approach Torah.  Rather than merely commemorating an ancient event, revering an ancient curiosity that seems so out of date, can we turn this into a worthwhile exercise, a moving and significant experience?

First we need to attempt to grasp just what Torah is and what it isn’t.  It’s not an antiquated family chronicle, a compendium of curious and exotic religious mandates, a history book nor a science text.  Rather, it is the entry of The Infinite into our finite world.  Presented in dual form, a definite written text along with an open, gradually revealed and self-updating, ever-growing explanation, it defies comparison with any other text, not to mention any other physical object in our world.  It’s a waste of time to treat it “just like any text”, not to mention a wasted unique opportunity for each of us to refine and perfect both ourselves and our world.

רמח”ל, the Ramchal, Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzatto, the brilliant eighteenth century Kabbalist who provides the bridge from the earlier presentations of these insights to our post-enlightenment minds, begins his best-known book, ‘דרך ה, Derech HaShem, The Way of God,  “…כל איש מישראל צריך שיאמין וידע”, Kol Ish M’Yisrael Tzarich Sh’Ya’amin V’Yedah…, Every Jew must “believe” and “know”….  I’ve written extensively about the words אמן, Amen, אמונה, Emunah, belief and אמנות, Amanut, craft, all related by sharing the three-letter שרש, shoresh, root, א-מ-נ.  The main insight here is that Judaism never mandates blind faith or empty, rote belief, but rather a crafted faith, a work in progress, constantly shaped and refined.  דעת, Da’at, knowledge, as mandated, contains the concept of “biblical knowing”, absolute intimate knowledge.

The secret that the Ramchal is sharing with us is that our relationship with God (and we, finite and physical beings that we are, can only interact with the Infinite God, by interacting with His Torah, the “finite” form of the Infinite) must be honest, intimate and with no barriers between us.  Obviously not physically, but in terms of obstacles, pretense and artifice, we must come to Torah completely naked.  We must confront ourselves in complete honesty, to bring our actual selves, stripped of self-fantasies, denials, arrogance and fear to our engagement with Torah.  As we believe that the Torah (by this I mean the revelation of תנ”ך, Tanach (Torah, Ne’vi’im (Prophets) and Ketuvim (Later Writings)) along with the Oral Torah (משנה, Mishna, גמרא, Gemara, זוהר, Zohar and their many related commentaries)) is the only “object” in our physical world which contains the property of inherent perfection, we need to make ourselves as close to “perfect” as we can in order to engage The Creator through His Torah in any depth and profundity at all.  Just as the Torah describes the imperfections of all of our historical heros, from Avraham to Ya’akov to Moshe Rabbeinu (Moses) to King David, we need to understand and accept (not that we complacently “recognize” as permanent, but at each point in our life we need to continuously refine ourselves) our own faults approach ourselves and the Torah, in complete honesty.  Otherwise, we’ll merely misuse the Torah to validate our mistakes, prejudices and falsehoods.

We have a special opportunity facing us and it would be a terrible shame to waste it with pieties, trivialities and distractions.  A truly profound experience awaits us if we have the courage to let go of our pretence and disguises and, rather, to face God just as we are.

After describing the Yetzer HaRa in terms more understandable in our times, we’re still left to deal with it.  How can we overcome emotional obsessions and intellectual conceits?  It’s telling that Jewish tradition has no analogue for Christianity’s Lord’s Prayer’s “Lead me not into temptation”.  Our wisdom informs us that neither is this possible, nor necessarily desirable for our  purpose in life.  Rather, we are challenged to engage and overcome our Yetzer HaRa, transform it into Yetzer HaTov, the formation of Good and, as discussed previously, employ the process as a means to more closely approach, התקרוב, hitkarov, and unite, התדבק, hitdabek, with God.

Observing the contemporary trivialization of one of our most profound and subtle concepts, the  ספירות, Sephirot, holy spheres/emanations, as well as the related image of the עץ חיים, Etz Chayim, Tree of Life, comprising the seven lower Sephirot, I understand the traditional warnings against learning Kabbalah without proper preparation (mainly a certain level of maturity, life experience and also training in Jewish thought methodology as developed mainly through Talmudic study).  All too often these powerful ideas become a facile avoidance of actual responsibility (i.e. Mitzvot) or, through a similarity to Hindu Chakras, a justification for superficial observance of Hindu ritual and practice (not to mention avoidance of actual Jewish practice).  The real problem with this popularization and trivialization, however, is that it masks the power of this potentially effective tool in overcoming our Yetzer HaRa.

Very simply stated, these Sephirot describe the flow of energy, both up and down, from our spirituality to our intellect, emotions, physical and finally action.  It can help us both analyze and direct our energies to promote constructive behavior and also it provides a model we can use to resist and transform our destructive urges before they become manifest in action.

All of us are motivated to achieve physical comfort and pleasure.  Whether it’s the feel of fine cloth, the satisfaction of tasty food or the sensuality of sex, none of us are truly immune.  And in many forms, we can enjoy these pleasures in uplifting rather than degrading ways.  Our tradition teaches that every physical and emotional desire we experience is really just an echo of our ultimate desire for connection with The One, and we have the ability to recognize this and to dedicate our experience to this deeper and holier desire.  Nonetheless, there are boundaries to keep these efforts in the realm of the holy rather than the degrading and it’s not that rare that we feel overwhelmed with desire to exceed these limits.

Returning to the concept of the Sephirot, we notice that, looking at all ten and not just the Tree of Life seven, they are roughly grouped (from bottom to top) in action (מלכות, Malchut, Kingship, the world of action) physicality (נצח, הוד, יסוד, Netzach, Hod, Yesod), emotion (חסד, גבורה, תפארת, Chesed, Gevurah, Tiferet), intellect (*(חכמה, בינה,(דעת, Chachma, Bina (Da’at)) and spirit כתר, Keter.  This schema gives us at least a start in our struggle to combat/transform our unhealthy desires that is almost so simple as to be overlooked!

When an urge is rooted in the physical, we can appeal to our emotions.  Sure, it might feel good in the moment, but how are we going to feel about it “in the morning”?  Guilt, when expressing neurosis, is certainly unproductive and unhealthy, but as an expression and even a foreshadowing of conscience, it can indeed be a powerful tool in our refinement and maturation.  When our emotional reaction to physical indulgence is inadequate, we can elevate our response to our intellect.  We can ask ourselves whether succumbing will bring us closer or farther from our ultimate goals.  We can analyze why we’re tempted, what our desire, in it’s purity, really is, and recalibrate our actions towards reaching that goal.  And if that’s inadequate, as it often is–we’re not as “smart” as we often think we are–, we can “elevate” to our highest level of function, the spirit.  Although we’re not able to consciously perceive anything that goes on in the realm of כתר, Keter, Crown (the imagery of a crown which surrounds but is not part of the head points to this reality), we can (and) do direct our prayers through this interface to The Infinite and we also receive all of our energy, be it spiritual, intellectual and physical through this interface.

Our prayers and literature are full of our cries for salvation.  Rather than simplistic hopes to escape external unpleasantness, not that these are trivial needs many times, these calls, often found in Tehillim, the Psalms of King David, a man whose life was filled with challenges at every level, are often prayers to save us from ourselves, from those interior drives that are described as external threats (both the externalize (as a first step to combat) and also to universalize them).  The exercise of prayer, as I’ve been taught and repeatedly try to teach, is not “to present a shopping list to God”, but to enter a deep and intimate relationship with Him where we set aside all pretentions of being self-sufficient and self-sustaining, a perverted concept of being independent and “strong”.  Seeing ourselves as part of the All, as having strengths but not being omnipotent-in-ourselves, we also put our own Yetzer HaRa into perspective.  Our desires, be they physical, emotional or intellectual are neither so urgent, so important nor even so big.  It’s not merely a matter of asking for Divine Help in overcoming them, but recognizing the overarching Divine Reality that cuts our individual desires down to size so that we find we already have the resources and strategies to resist and transform them.

It isn’t easy, but we really wouldn’t want it to be.  Just as when we physically exercise our bodies, we expect to gradually build our muscles, to increase the weight and repetitions, as it were, until we reach our optimal.  It’s a truism in our tradition that the greater the holiness we’re able to reach, the greater the Yetzer opposing it.  But, ultimately, we were all created to succeed, to refine ourselves and our world and to bring ourselves, our fellows and our entire world to ever greater דבקות, Devekut, Divine Attachment.

(*  דעת, Da’at, Knowledge, is not actually one of the Ten Sephirot, but when כתר, Keter, Crown (as described above) is considered inaccessible, it makes up the count of ten.)

I remember my grandparents and others their generation talking about the “yaytzerhora” as some sort of demon (or maybe a variation of Israeli folk-dancing?)–I didn’t yet know what those words (in fact, it was a few years until I learned that it was really two words) but I knew “it” meant me no good.  As I got older and began to feel increasingly uncomfortable with what seemed to be outmoded superstition in my Jewish tradition, the Yetzer HaRa topped the list.  As I became even older and rediscovered my heritage, as I’ve found ever-deeper profundity in our wisdom, the Yetzer HaRa has remained among the most challenging concepts for me to understand.  There’s something that just seems childish and foolish in literal belief in a trickster being whose sole reason to exist is to ploy my individual downfall.  Maybe I was just not getting it.

I realize that it’s very difficult, some times almost impossible, for us, grounded in our sophisticated 21st century, to understand even a little the poetry and allegories of our ancients.  Without a lot of “translation/creative-interpretation”, what are we to make of the creation of the universe taking exactly six, 24-hour days?  The Zohar, one of the foundations of our mystical tradition, is closed to us but for the brilliant update of the Ari (Rabbi Yitzchak Luria, kabbalist of Tzfat in the 16th century), just as his teaching is incomprehensible to us without the update of Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzatto, the Ramchal, in the 18th century.  When our sages teach that Torah is given in the “language of man”, we need to understand that just as man’s frames of reference change through history, yesterday’s explanations, spoken in yesterday’s language, needs to be restated, translated, as it were, into today’s language.  (This does not imply that the ethical/spiritual/cosmological message of the Torah changes, just that our relationship to it depends upon, among other things, our historical/social context).

Recently studying Netzach Yisrael, a deep philosophical work by the Maharal of Prague (perhaps best known as the creator of the Golem, the “man of clay”, an artificial being, temporarily animated by mystical means, in order to save the Jewish community from extreme oppression and danger), I struggled to understand the distinction he was making between יצר, Yetzer (meaning Yetzer HaRa, our drive to evil) and  שכל, Sechel, which means our intellect/spirituality.  It dawned on me that what we mean by the Yetzer is those actions we take which defy logic.

These days it goes under more contemporary names such as “human perversity”, “self-destructiveness” and “just damned cussedness”.  We all face moments when we can’t resist something we know is terrible for us.  People can’t “eat just one” death-loaded potato chip (salt, fat and empty carbs all in one bite!).  People sabotage their relationships all the time, provoke their bosses and otherwise conspire for their own failure.  With all my awareness of my own health issues, I still can’t resist a coffee candy (or a chance to make a clever, but often harmful, remark)!

If it were a matter of brains, we’d never do these sort of things.  And even when our intellect does lead us to better decisions, it always seems like the old temptation keeps popping up.  With all the easily accessible and widely publicized knowledge about the dangers of cigarettes, an entire generation of young people have started to light up, decades after their parents quit the habit.  Is there any other explanation for this kind of behavior?

Everyone knows that it’s absolutely necessary to acquire a good education in order to successfully function in the future, but  between American schools that automatically pass every kid in order to make sure no one ever feels bad and “progressive” classes that emphasize group projects over the skills the classes are delegated to teach, between some religious schools, be they certain yeshivot as well as certain fundamentalist schools of other faiths as well which refuse to teach modern secular subjects such as math and science (actually, I can’t think of subjects more potentially spiritual than math or science), all too often people are able to come up with a good-sounding rationalization for self-destructive decisions.

American cities elect to spend public fortunes for sports palaces while the city streets suffer epidemics of pot-holes.  Benches are removed from bus shelters as ways to not really address homelessness, all the while penalizing the disabled, and there is always a “good explanation” for why, against all logic and intelligence, these stupid, not to mention destructive, decisions are made.

Our tradition describes this Yetzer HaRa as quasi-human in intelligence and craftiness, flexibility and ability to improvise.  It does seem superstitious and childish until you start to examine all the ways common sense and “our better judgement” are ignored.

בחירה, Bechira, Free Choice is among our greatest gifts as well as our greatest challenges.  We’re given an opportunity to resemble The Creator as much as humanly possible, and one important aspect of this is the ability to resemble His independence.  It’s no big thing to make “the right choice” if it’s the only choice, and a make-believe choice is really no choice at all.  The more compelling the reasons for a good decision, the less free that decision becomes, and thus of less value to us in our goal of growth, development, refinement and maturity.  Thus, the more our “head” tells us something is right, the more strongly our Yetzer, in the guise of  physical temptation (potato chips, coffee candies, destructive relationships), well-meaning weakness (using schools for social condition rather than education, passive-aggressive rather than effective strategies to deal with bad social behavior, rationalization of “moral relativity”) will demand the opposite.

Chassidic and Kabbalistic tradition teaches us that eventually our Yetzer HaRa will transform into our Yetzer HaTov, our drive to do good.  Our path to this is through resisting all the physical, emotional and intellectual rationalizations for acting against our intelligence.  The decision itself to choose good in spite of the attractions of the ultimately-destructive lifts our good decision much higher than can rise on its own.  It makes our free choice truly free since we weren’t merely following a series of “no-brainer” obvious steps, but rather making conscious positive decisions at each step.

We might not be able to explain these phenomenon in any empirical terms at all.  Our universal “sheer cussedness” isn’t traceable to brain chemistry, nutrition, exercise or diet.  Nonetheless, we do have the tools, mainly awareness, strength and hard work, to overcome them.  And in doing so, we accomplish much more than merely preventing one more stupid decision–we lift up both our individual and our collective Neshamot (souls).

There’s an unresolved “argument” whether it’s better to enter Tefilla, prayer, focusing on God’s grandeur or on our own humble status.  Since one realization necessarily leads to the other, for most of us it doesn’t really matter.  There’s also a question if we should approach prayer assuming that our supplications will be answered or if we should pray without thought to that.

One basic pair of concepts in Kabbalah, our mystical tradition, is אתערותא דלתתא and אתעררותא דלעילא, Itrauta D’Letatah and Itrauta D’Le’Ila., literally arousal from below and arousal from above.  What this really refers to is the initiator of the Divine dialogue as well as the direction of energy flow.  When our interaction with God begins with our opening the conversation, for example focusing on our own neediness and begging The Creator to provide what we need, this is our arousal from below.  We send our pleas “up”, from our humble physicality to the realm of pure spirit.  When God initiates the relationship, the exodus from Egypt the ideal model of this, the initiation comes from On High.

Our uniqueness as humans is that we’re able to function in both capacities.  When we pray, even with no expectation of receiving, we send our hopes and desires, our need for connection with The Creator, directly from our “hearts of flesh”.  And those times when we sense an answer, whatever it might be, we should be aware that we’re receiving a direct transmission of His Holy Light.

And those few instances when we’re capable of both, we fill our highest role as a two-way portal.

(פִּיהָ פָּתְחָה בְחָכְמָה וְתוֹרַת־חֶסֶד עַל־לְשׁוֹנָהּ (משלי לא:כו

She opens her mouth with wisdom, the Torah of Chesed is her language (Proverbs 31:26)

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A recent news article tells of a Montreal orthodox synagogue, in a revolutionary and highly controversial move, hiring a woman in a clergy role.  While this is, indeed, welcome news, the fact that it is news at all, in other words that it’s still newsworthy that a woman be recognized as being qualified to fill this kind of role in an orthodox community, is both sad and exciting.  It’s sad in that movement in this direction has been so long in coming, but it’s exciting in that this glacially-paced change presages an even more radical and long-awaited transformation in reality.

Historically, most women’s lives were comprised of the cycle of pregnant, nursing, pregnant, nursing, pregnant, nursing….. often ending in early death.  Only when our physical world progressed, mainly in terms of science, medicine and hygiene, did many women have realistic opportunities to actively pursue other goals.  When that began to happen, the orthodox world should have immediately embraced the opportunity learn as much as possible of those realities which are not part of male perception and experience.  Unfortunately, this opportunity was not merely missed, it was rejected.  This was, and remains, a tragedy similar to but much greater than the rejection of the ancient spiritual wisdom of our fellow Jews from Ethiopia and, even earlier, from Yemen.  It’s heartening to see, albeit slowly, this tragedy reversing.  (Hopefully we’ll eventually open ourselves to these other traditions as well.)

There’s a beautiful Shabbat custom which, unfortunately, is often performed without any awareness at all of the meaning behind it.  And, worse, it’s increasingly being eliminated by many contemporary observant folks in the mistaken cause of egalitarianism.  It goes like this:  One of the two challot (special Shabbat loaves), the nicer and fuller of the two, is lightly scored with a knife, designating it as the feminine one.  In the evening, it’s held under the other, masculine, challah.  At lunch, however, the fuller, scored challah is held above.  The symbolism, and the actual progress we both mime and, to an unknown degree, we actually bring into reality, is the rising of the Shechina, the Feminine Divine Presence, also referred to as the Sefira, holy emanation, of מלכות, Malchut, Kingship (Malchut is also the actual material world we consciously function in).  Each Shabbat we both re-enact this motion and bring our world closer to the rebalancing of the masculine and feminine.

The quotation that heads this article is familiar to many as a verse from the Shabbat song, Eishet Chayil, often translated A Woman of Valor.  While on the surface this song seems to praise the woman of the house, it’s really much deeper and is a verbal/chant technique to unite the highest Sefira, כתר, Keter, Crown, and the lowest, מלכות, Malchut, Kingship, integrating the spiritual realm into a holistic unity, representing the ultimate, rectified reality to which all Creation is aimed .

The verse itself reveals a necessary step in our journey.  We men are instructed to change our vision of a woman’s mouth from only an object of sensual desire to the portal of wisdom.  In other words, our ultimate goal will only begin to be reached when we’re able to see a woman’s mouth as more than something to kiss, but also as something to seriously listen to.

Many years ago I purchased a set of cassette tapes (still available) which contain a talk by Rabbi Shloime Twerski zt”l where he addresses labels and badges within the Jewish world.  Speaking in the 1970s, still toward the beginning of the Ba’al Tshuvah movement, he takes on the mutual isolation (at that time) of the newly religious/orthodox (ba’alei tshuvah) and the always religious/orthodox.  Although over time much of that barrier has disappeared, at least on the surface, the today’s divisions within the Jewish people are much worse.

By and large, the Sephardic world dodges this crisis, mainly by seeing a continuous range of mitzva/halacha observance rather than separate categories.  But the Ashkenazi world is cripplingly shattered into the “orthodox” vs. the “liberals”, the “frum” vs. the “conservative”, “reform”, “reconstructionist”, “renewal” and “humanist” (not to mention the antagonism between all of these groups).  And as the rabbi described all those years ago, each group proudly badges itself with it’s name and excoriates all others with labels.  Although there are temporary alliances, each group is sure of it’s correctness and thus, necessarily, the folly of everyone else.

Among the tragedies of this situation, and the one I most focus on as someone who sees great positive value on infinitely many levels, is an entire section of our Jewish people, probably the majority, who, by self-definition less in terms of what they are than of what they aren’t, who never avail themselves of the potential benefits they might gain from the entire mitzvah system.  I think the responsibility for this sad state of affairs can be shared pretty equally between those who have shrunk the Seventy Faces of Torah into a single, inflexible path and those who reject, with a sense of shame, people who aren’t as “contemporary” or “with it” as they perceive themselves.

Perhaps one of our greatest historical tragedies was the choice of the word “orthodox” with which those opposing the nascent “reform” movement chose to label themselves.  Literally, “straight and narrow”, nothing could be a less apt description of the דרך, Derech, path of mitzvot.  Torah Sh’B’al Peh, the Oral Torah tradition, including Mishna, Gemara, Zohar, evolving into a traditional literature of Halacha (law), Hashgafa, philosophy, Kabbalah (mystical wisdom), from the very beginning presents reality, including halachic reality, as too complex to be simply described.  Halacha, itself, is based on a process that presents and analyzes different views (not so much different “opinions” (traditionally, we never cared much about opinions as traditions) as facets, not mutually exclusive choices), gives us definite, but broad frameworks in which to operate.  While rejecting moral relativism (the curse of modern western culture), it not only leaves room for individual expression, it insists on it.  There is a definite inside and outside of this framework, but each mitzva, each halacha, contains an array of acceptable ways to fullfil it.  The true path of halacha is anything but “straight and narrow”, but it’s just as much not a free-for-all.

Before we bifurcated into those who champion a single, often fossilized, “halacha” and those who reject all traditional observance (it was only in the last few decades, for example, that the Reform movement “allowed” their rabbis to wear a kippa!), it was taken for granted that no one observed each and every mitzva “perfectly”, whatever that might mean.  No one “batted a thousand” and no one was expected to.  But in a world view that saw halacha as a path to both personal and universal refinement, the real path to tikkun olam (repairing/perfecting/completing the world), as well as a path that was supposed to be individualized to each personality/life-condition/neshama, there was a reasonable self-motivation to develop ourselves along this path.  But as that path has become presented as narrower and narrower, grimmer and grimmer, it attracts few and repels many.

I hate religious coercion.  On the other hand, I can understand, but oppose, those who attempt to impose “observance” (i.e. their own view of observance).  People my age can remember the cliché of the Jewish mother’s table pleas, “try it, you’ll like it”.  It never worked for me in getting me to like delicacies like beef tongue or liver or other foods I still can’t tolerate, but it sure opened me to long-time favorites like artichokes, but I think we mainly realized that it was a plea based in love.  As a parent, I often experience a mirror of this interaction when my children  try to get me to listen to music I wasn’t open to–“try it, you’ll like it”, and once in a while I do.

Of course, there are those who just enjoy trying to force their ideas and styles and tastes on everyone in order to  confirm their own correctness, but there are others, perhaps the majority of “orthodox” leaders, who, rather than wanting to compel or coerce, just want to invite others to just “give mitzvot a chance”.  But, too often, they’re thwarted both by the backlash against those who do try to force others and also by the dogmatic rejection of any possible, beyond nostalgiac, benefits to our traditions.  This is tragic, because the spiritual cannot be observed, described or measured, but only experienced.  And cutting oneself off from this channel of experience is at least equal in tragedy and destructiveness to the hate that has grown to such great volume between Jew and Jew in today’s world.

Whatever one might think about the late Menachem Begin and his political legacy, I think we all should admire his customary response when people would ask him “what kind of Jew” he was.  He would always answer, “I’m a stam (plain, unadorned, non-hypenated) Jew”.  We don’t need to subdivide ourselves, let alone enshrine these divisions with badges and labels.

(הִלֵּל אוֹמֵר……… וְאַל תַּאֲמֵן בְּעַצְמָךְ עַד יוֹם מוֹתָךְ (אבות ב:ד

Hillel says …….. “Don’t believe in yourself (to be perfect) until the day you die (Avot 2:4)

Our tradition presents a dynamic tension between inspiration and following “the rules”, between our mandate to discover our own unique path within the greater framework and mindless conformity.  Nowhere else is this presented better than in the baffling episode of Nadav and Abihu, Aaron’s eldest sons, who died while bringing their own incense offering to the freshly-dedicated Mishkan (the portable Temple which followed our people until finding a permanent home in Jerusalem in the days of King Solomon).

They are described as passionate, dedicated and enthusiastic.  At first glance, it seems we should ourselves be inspired by their inspiration, by their irresistible urge to add their voices to the Divine Service.  Ultimately, however, they’re revealed to be more interested in following their own inner voices than the Voice of The Eternal.

Hebrew is unique among languages in that, at least in its classical/religious roots, it is deliberate and “engineered”, meant to convey spiritual, in addition to mere semantic, meaning.  There is a tradition to analyze the numerical values of letters, words and phrases and also one to generate meaning from the very grammar which determines structure.

For example, in English we use the word “verb” to mean a word that conveys action.  Unlike the word “noun” which both literally means and also describes function as “name”, “verb” merely means “word”, as in verbal or verbose.  In Hebrew, and this is an ancient tradition, we call this class of words שם הפועל, Shem HaPoel, literally the name of an action.

פועל, Poel, is also used, prominently by the Maharal of Prague and the Ramchal (Luzatto) as two examples (and it’s worth noting that each were considered the master kabbalists of their respective generations), in contrast to the word כח, Koach (which literally means power or strength) to refer to real, kinetic energy, that is “action”. (כח, Koach, referring to potential, not-yet-actualized , energy).

On the surface, then, Shem HaPoel does mean the “name of an action”.  On a deeper, but still authentic, level, this teaches us that until an action really begins to take place, we, as actors, lack a name, a real identity.  In other words, our holy language teaches us that we acquire a name, a reputation, only for what we actually do in this world.

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A second example struck me this past Shabbat, because this phrase, הן הם, Hen Hem, literally “both these (f) these (m)”, referring to our limbs, our souls, our breath and our tongues which all join together in praise, appears in the נשמת כל חי, Nishmat Kol Chai, “The Soul of All Life”, prayer, the transition from פסוקי דזימרא, Pesukei d’Zimra, the selection of Psalms with which we prepare ourselves to enter the sections of the Shema and then the Amida (referred to as תפילה, Tefilla, literally prayer, but referring specifically to the standing meditation, the centerpiece of each of three daily prayer services).  As the Shefa Tal, the 17th century Kabbalah classic by Rabbi Shabtai Sheftal Horowitz of Prague (and first cousin of the famous Rabbi Isaiah Horowitz, known for his most famous work, Shnei Luchot HaBrit), points out, the numerical value of these two words, הן and הם equals 100 (50+5=55 and 40+5=45, totaling 100) which is equal to 10 x 10 for the Ten Sefirot (the spiritual forces which combine and interact to generate our universe) each of which contains within it all 10 (10 x 10), a shorthand for the spiritual value of all reality.  As I noted, הם is the masculine form, הן the feminine form of “they”.  All of which comes to teach us that the full contribution of both the masculine and the feminine are absolutely required to generate complete reality!  That this message is, based on the very structure of the Hebrew language, repeated every week in the Shabbat liturgy (and also at every Festival) is, literally awe-inspiring, pointing to the Infinite Wisdom embedded in our Holy Tongue.

I have to admit that my focus as well as my general inclination is more towards Torah learning and teaching than towards davening.  To be really honest, most of the time it’s very difficult for me to develop much more than minimal כוונה, Kavvanah,  intention/focus in which to frame my tefilla.  I’m not proud to say that many more times than not, I merely read the words, and often too quickly.  And here’s another little secret:  most people I share this with tell me they have the same problem really engaging with their prayer.

This troubles me not because I feel that I’m doing something wrong or that my fefilla is invalid–I do, indeed, read every word three times every day–but rather because I realize, each time, that I’ve missed yet another tremendous opportunity to deepen my relationship with The Creator.  I’m fortunate that I do have alternate paths develop my spiritual relationship, primarily, as I mentioned, learning and teaching Torah, but this fundamental possibility seems largely undeveloped.

I should clarify that I’m not talking about a sense of disappointment that my prayers aren’t “answered”.  The Mitzva of Tefilla, like all Mitzvot, is aimed at deepening our relationship, increasing our דבקות, Devekut, attachment with God via the Tefilla-“channel”.  Although we are, indeed, invited to offer our “shopping list”, describing our personal needs and wants, we shouldn’t really pray in just order to get what we want (in our conversation, the Divine Answer can easily be “no”).  Since we often use our voice in prayer it’s easier to think of this mitzva as really a private dialogue with The Creator.  In truth, all of our mitzvot are exactly that, even if, as most of them are, totally non-verbal (although many do have a verbal component, the ברכה, B’racha, blessing, we say to accompany many of them).

Nonetheless, I usually feel that while I did, minimally at times, fulfill the Mitzva of Tefilla, I sure want to enhance it.

I’ve explored the קדושה, Kedusha, holiness of the individual Hebrew letters.  One thing I’ve learned is that each letter is engineered, uniquely, to transmit infinite-while-still-unique אור, Or, spiritual energy.  This life-energy is contained/expressed through several modes including the sound the letter makes, its name (in Hebrew) and what it means (the name of each Hebrew letter actually has semantic meaning, for example ב, Bet, means “house”, ד, Dalet, means “door”, etc.) and also it numerical value (the Hebrew letters also function as our numbers).  The shape of each letter also conveys meaning.  Additionally, since every letter can be generated from the smallest, point-like letter, י, Yud (which is the first letter of God’s Name, and thus represents that aspect of Him), each letter also contains various permutations and combinations of the Divine Names.  Unseen in a Torah scroll (but visible in printed Hebrew), are the נקודות, Nekudot, literally points, but functioning as vowels and the טעמים, Ta’amim, musical notes (also known as trop marks), and these also contribute meaning beyond the actual sounds and melodies.  A small set of letters are also “crowned” with תגים, Tagim, decorations at their tops (paradoxically, while these almost never appear in printed books, they are required on all Torah scrolls, Mezuza and Tefillin parchments) and these also have meaning (There is a story that Moshe, while on Mount Sinai, transcribing the first Torah as directly dictated by God, asked why he was instructed to embellish these certain letters.  He was whisked into the future to sit in the back of Rabbi Akiva’s בית מדרש, Bet Midrash, study hall, where the rabbi was expounding on the meanings/energy of these crowns.  He said that this knowledge went all the way back, directly from Moshe on Sinai, even though Moshe himself was never consciously aware of this information!)

Another level of meaning is generated by making anagrams of the letters which spell the name of each letter (coincidentally, these are contained in a small book titled אותיות דרבי עקיבא, Otiot d’Rabbi Akiva, the letters of Rabbi Akiva).  We’re also taught that more energy/meaning resides in the blank white spaces surrounding each letter than in the letter itself!  And all of these letters combine not only sound and semantic meaning, but spiritual life-energy as they form into words by weaving all these previously-mentioned energies into a single “fabric”.

I also very strongly believe in Hashgacha Pratit, that The Creator really does “personally” supervise every instant of each of our lives.  He insures that we receive precisely what we need (not necessarily what we want) each moment of our lives.

Finally, here’s the insight I had during Pesach, last week, that led me to this article.  I realized that an acceptable kavvanah might well be that as my eyes wash over the stream of letters which make up each of our daily tefillot, prayer services, even if I’m not able to focus consciously on meaning at any level, my  נשמה, Neshama, soul is bathed in exactly the energy I require at that instant.  Even when I’m not even aware of the meanings of my words and sentences, and I have to admit that’s the case all too often, I am still interacting deeply with God.  And, after all, that’s the whole point.