Rabbi Zeitlin

While driving to Corvallis, Oregon a couple weeks ago (July, 1999) to teach a Shabbat class in Talmud at the Aleph/Renewal Kallah, I thought about how to present my topic, Talmud, to a group of people who might not be very familiar or necessarily more than merely polite in receptiveness to it. I’d planned to focus on the very beginning of the Talmud, the first Mishna and hopefully the beginning Gemara of Tractate Brachot.

Starting with the presumption that Talmud is perhaps the most misunderstood Jewish text, certainly by those who’ve enshrined and thus fossilized it within the yeshiva world and thus even more so by the rest of Jewish-kind who therefore reject it outright, I first needed a definition. The obvious thought that comes to mind is the simple definition as a central pillar of the Oral Tora. Back-pedaling just a little in order to “legitimize” Talmud as more than “a bunch of smart ancient rabbis’ opinions”, but rather something alive and eternally meaningful, I thought I’d restate the traditional “party line” that both the Written and Oral aspects of the Tora were given to the Jewish people on Mount Sinai.

That led me to wonder what we really mean by Revelation. Is it merely a vast and sudden transfer of knowledge, of wisdom or is it a different type of knowledge altogether? As Jews, are we the guardians of unique knowledge or do we, instead, have at most a unique presentation and organization of this wisdom. To what degree, if any, is or should Jewish insights be specific to our people versus being openly universal? Does sharing the historical/spiritual experience at Sinai removes us in some way from the rest of humanity or is all this information and understanding widely available if one merely opens one’s eyes and heart to the world, in other words through empirical observation and trial-and-error which is, more or less, the historical process of science?

This leads to a related and perhaps only apparently-tangential concern, defining intuition and insight. Obviously central to scientific progress throughout history, they certainly seem to transcend mere observation and organization. On the other hand, what better modern-day understanding can we bring to the seemingly archaic concept of prophecy other than intuition and insight?

Jewish tradition, in fact, celebrates both paradigms: Moses on Sinai and Abraham observing the natural world and concluding the necessary existence of God. While we’re taught that all Jewish souls, past, contemporary and future were present and received the entire Tora in a single historical moment (this obviously needs much interpretation and insight to even begin to ponder), we also learn that carefully examining and questioning appearances in the visible “natural” world, Abraham was forced to realize a transcendental and imminent presence “behind” it all. Taking into account their unique personalities, would we equate Abraham’s and Moses’ knowledge of God? Are we describing different paths to the same objective or different paths to altogether different goals or, perhaps, different paths to different facets of the same reality?

Ultimately, we wonder if communication at all is possible. Essentially, knowledge of God is the shared goal of all spiritual traditions, so are all forms and styles this knowledge takes equivalent, not only from tradition to tradition but within a single tradition? Not only can we talk to others, can we even speak meaningfully of things spiritual among ourselves without a shared “peak experience”? Not only can the rational speak to the spiritual, but can one intuition speak to another, one spirit to another?

As Rosh HaShana (5760) approaches, my strongest desire is to answer “yes”, so see as real that there is one “mountain”, as it were, with myriad and unique paths all leading to the same peak. We speak on Rosh HaShana as “crowning” God, as recognizing the Divine Oneness of all reality. May all of us open ourselves to this vision and thus focus on what is common to all humanity.

L’Shana Tova Tikatayvu v’Tichataymu

Every year I feel I have to make new insights into each of our cyclical holy days. Some years, this one for example, I’m stumped and perhaps that feeling of stumpness is at least the clue and possibly the insight itself.

It’s all too easy to get caught up in “how do I” or how does any “authority” view what goes on with a day like Yom Kippur. But perhaps as long as one maintains even that much of an externality of the chag one removes oneself from the Kedusha.

As Rabbi Ted Falcon taught me this year, we ascend the Tree of Life in the Ten Days from Rosh HaShana to Yom Kippur. We move from the realm of fully-engaged in the world to the realm of total awareness and acceptance and unity, from Malchut to Chochma.

So my wish, short but deeply felt, is that we all may find ourselves, at least for some part of Yom Kippur, so much at home that we don’t realize we’re even there as observer anymore, that as we climb we make peace with all those parts of our souls and our personalities which feel pain, frustration and lack of satisfaction until we find ourselves fully accepting what is. And may we all bring at least sparks of that experience back into our year, incorporating the purity and forgiveness of the day to ourselves and to all Creation.

My son and I spent last Shabbat in Los Angeles, actually North Hollywood, helping to celebrate the Bar Mitzva of one of my longest and closest friend’s first son. As two non-family guests we were placed with neighbors for the evenings we were there. It was Parshat Noah, the end of which talks about the Tower of Babel, the creation of separate nations and languages and the dispersion of humanity.

Perhaps it’s the nature of these kind of meetings that we and our hosts were guided by an invisible hand to meet and share ideas. Looking at a timeline in his Chumash, he pointed out that Avraham (actually Avram at that time) was already alive during for this event. He reminded me that our sages emphasize that this mistaken effort was whole-heartedly subscribed to by all of humanity and so wondered how we dealt with our own participation in the affair.

We easily found some sources who seemed to whitewash the entire matter–Avraham was a prisoner of Nimrod’s at the time, God hid him in a cave, etc. These views weren’t very satisfying and certainly didn’t increase my understanding of our evolving spirit. I looked further, both within texts and within my own thoughts and experience. Luckily for sake of my “faith”, I did find a few mforshim willing to tackle the question including the Tzavta Naftali and the Maharal, and while they don’t seem eager to dwell on it, they imply that Avram’s choices and behavior during the events led to his development to become the founder of our tradition.

As I thought about it, I had several presumptions I began with. First off, it’s inconceivable to me that God created 99-44/100% of the world to trick the tiny Jewish people into sinning. Rather the world is as it is to constantly present the optimal challenge to each unique individual, Jew and non-Jew, in order to grow, develop and refine themselves and the world. One’s task is not merely one of choosing “not to sin”, but rather to grow and enhance. Each historical reality creates the ultimate opportunity at that moment of development not only to stumble and fail, but to move further towards The Creator.

The Bavel story tells us of a humanity which was fused into a single culture, a single outlook, a single description of reality, a single vision, a single language and a single purpose. We learn that they stayed together because of fear of separation. At this point, especially as Avram, as yet still only the potential founder, the potential fount of Chesed, not yet developed on his own, there is no reason to assume he’d hold himself apart.

But the world, as it exists on the material plane, isn’t such a simplified reality and such a single vision, like a child’s view of reality, soon becomes inadequate. A differentiation of aspects and facets and points-of-view is the next step to healthy growth, and as every parent soon learns about every step of development, there is a moving away.

So the question is what does humanity do once this new flowering has occured and what specifically does Avram do to merit becoming Avraham. It seems that the problem is not one of individuation, but one which lingers to this day of the inability to then re-integrate as mature entities. And this is perhaps the strongest paradigm of the mature Avraham who, after seeing through the folly of mutually exclusive world views, separatist idols which he smashes, becomes the host whose tent is open to all four approaches, who integrates all he encounters, who is able to find the primal Unity, the Divine, the Echad which underlies and joins all reality.

And now on to Lech Lecha as the journey builds momentum! Shabbat Shalom.

Chametz in food is specifically defined as one of the five grains, wheat, barley, oats, rye or spelt that has been mixed with water and allowed to ferment. Empirically, it was observed as early as the rabbinic age that within about eighteen minutes (coincidentally, 18 in the Hebrew letter/numbering system is yod chet which, reversed, spells chai, life–a very special number indeed!) the heat from the chemical reaction which converts the starch creates heat and sufficient, although in fact minuscule, airflow to cause dough to rise. In the strictest sense, this is the narrow definition of chametz.

However, the original rabbinic definitions of chametz expanded the category to include any product derived from this fermentation process involving any of these grains, specifically beer and other grain-based spirits. Additionally, even unprocessed grains or products which contain them are also removed from the diet because they can easily become moist and thus spontaneously begin to ferment.

Ashkenazi tradition, the customs of Jews from the non-Mediterranean portions of Europe, also forbade legumes (peas, beans, lentils, etc.) as well as rice , all of which, since not actually chametz, remain allowed by most Sephardic authorities even today. The reasons given for this additional prohibition tend to fall into one of two categories, either that when ground these also appear to “puff” with water and thus resemble chametz all too closely or that in the open markets of those days the bins for legumes were often placed near the bins of actual chametz grains and so some chametz might fall in. In any event, until very recently even the strictest Ashkenazi customs would allow totzeret kitniyot, products derived from legumes (such as oils, peanut butter and the like). The current trend is to forbid them as well. I’m not sure of the reasoning behind this.

During the year, most mixtures which include a minuscule amount of a forbidden substance (usually less than 1/60th of the total) are permitted since the culprit is considered so insignificant as to essentially no longer exist. However, this reasoning is not followed for chametz during Pesach. Because of the fats, oils and other flavors than are absorbed into dishes, pots & pans, silverware and other utensils, even these minuscule amounts lead to either using separate Pesach dishes or kashering, i.e. purging all chametz from our regular dishes.

Rabbi Irving “Yitz” Greenberg, in his book The Jewish Way, suggests that this is because we want to draw a total distinction between slavery and freedom, that any hint of the “old ways” of slavery are no longer acceptable to any degree during this celebration of freedom. Another interpretation looks to the birth experience of Pesach (the escape from Egypt, Mitzrayim, literally the narrow place is often seen as a metaphor for the birth of the Jewish nation, having entered Egypt as merely a tribe of seventy souls). Just as a baby is able to eat only a very limited palette of food, as a Nation, while we’re still in our infancy (before reaching the eighth day (of the brit mila) for example) our ability to spiritually digest food (in other words, to engage the holiness within its physicality) is severely limited. Please note, this in no way suggests feeding Matzo to young babies!

When discussing chametz, it’s essential to keep in mind that the real chametz we want to eliminate is that within our personalities and actions. The physical foodstuffs are mainly a reminder, a pointer inside. The obvious metaphor is trying to refine out that which puffs us up unrealistically. A healthy ego is an integral part of being human and we certainly can’t journey to freedom without self-esteem. But we can try to pare down to the pure, unfermented essence of ourselves, to celebrate and enjoy ourselves and others without artifice. Another way of looking at chametz is that which has just stood around, beginning to stale, just as do so many of our unconscious habits which build up over a year.

For practical purposes (as if anything about ritual is, or is meant to be practical), the first step is to remove bread, crackers and other food containing these grains from our diet for the week. This can be extended to remove these foods entirely from our house. Since this can create a major hardship, the Rabbis long ago devised the mechanism of selling all chametz to a non-Jew during that week (since there’s no reason in a world why anyone not following Jewish tradition shouldn’t possess chametz). This is usually done through a rabbi in a way that the sale is authentic and absolute, but also so the chametz conveniently reverts to the owner immediately after Pesach. Because of the complexity of the food industry, one may try to eliminate, at least from your weekly diet, all processed foods which haven’t been made specifically kosher for Pesach, in other words, which might contain any chametz.

As mentioned earlier, the next step can be to either use special Pesach dishes or to kasher the ones we regularly use. The first step here is to clean everything thoroughly, refining the exterior. It’s a good idea to meditate on refining our own exteriors, our actions towards others, at this point. We then let them rest for twenty-four hours–we can’t expect to transform ourselves instantly. The next step is to remove the absorbed chametz. The physical principle is that we expel chametz the same way it was absorbed. (This is not unrelated to the technique of trying to re-envision those experiences which have hurt us and caused us to block our internal energy and work our way through them to greater clarity, joy and freedom. In other words, this is the inner work to accompany this process!) In other words, pots and pans that have been used for cooking on a flame can be kashered by filling them with water and bringing to a strong boil. Ovens and baking utensils should be brought to at least as high a temperature as used in baking and allowed to remain that hot at least until no further odor is smelled (in other words, the chametz has actually burned out). Dinnerware and silverware which have held hot food need only to have boiling water poured over them. Some people want to go farther and actually immerse them in a pot of boiling water. Anything else which is only used with cold foods generally never absorbed chametz to begin with so don’t need any further treatment. (I think there is a relationship to the degree of emotion (its heat) when we’ve been hurt and the effort needed to reprocess, transform and then refine it.)

Remember, distinguish between Pesach preparations and Spring Cleaning. Overdoing it to the point of resentment, exhaustion, shortness with children and the like obviously defeats the purpose. Enthusiasm is healthy, but obsession is not. Chametz is not magical and it can’t jump from surface to surface. And yes, while spiritually we do want to hunt even the chametz we can’t see, physically if you’ve already cleaned it you’ve done enough.

A fundamental principle throughout Jewish tradition is mentioned by King David in Psalm 34, Sur me-rah v’oseh tov, “turn away from evil and do good”. As we remove the chametz from our diet, we then introduce the simpler (at least in theory–there’s no accounting for the exponential growth of the Pesach food industry) Pesach food for the week. The first Pesach food, of course, is Matzo, and there are many brands and types available. Some people try to eat only shmura matzo, that is matzo which has been in constant supervision since the time the grain was harvested. It’s usually much more expensive than “regular” matzo. Some people want shmura matzo for the Seder but eat regular matzo the rest of the time. Some people enjoy egg-matzo and others consider it chametz. There is a wide range and it isn’t necessarily true that “the stricter the better”. If it distracts from the greater purpose, the journey towards freedom, take it easier. If it inspires you, by all means continue.

In general, all fresh fruits and vegetables (excluding legumes for those who follow the Ashkenazi custom) are fine. So are all fresh herbs or pure spices (although some Ashkenazi traditions also avoid ground seeds like mustard, turmeric, cardamom and the like because they tend to absorb water and thus appear to swell). Milk and uncolored butter, if bought before Pesach are certainly fine and many authorities accept that bought during the holiday as well. People who buy kosher cheese throughout the year will find that most is also Kosher for Pesach as well. Of course, processed food that’s marked Kosher for Pesach ought to be alright (although some products fall into Ashkenazi/Sephardi or other grey areas, but why make trouble where there isn’t any?). Almost all kosher wine is processed year-round Kosher for Pesach. Grain-based spirits, as well as flavors processed with alcohol (also as ingredients within processed food (and this is where one tends to rely on rabbinic supervision)–the complexity of the food industry again!) are also chametz. Although there really isn’t any difference between meat or fish for Pesach, many people who eat meat tend to make sure it’s marked Kosher for Pesach. Oils are another controversial subject, but all authorities agree that extra-virgin olive oil is always Kosher for Pesach, with our without supervision, regardless of brand. Currently there is a tendency to avoid oils which are derived from legumes (totzeret kitniyot) although many families traditionally used peanut oil on Pesach. Kosher for Pesach cotton-seed oil us currently very popular, but it is not only highly expensive, it really isn’t even food and there are some orthodox rabbis, even among the most traditional, who discourage this oil both for moral (price-gouging) and health reasons.

And turning to health, certainly any essential medicine is Kosher for Pesach. Many popular optional medications (Aspirin, Tylenol, anti-acids, decongestants, etc.) are also Kosher for Pesach even without kosher symbols. In questionable cases, often the best advice is that if you don’t need it, try getting along without for the week. Possibly not a bad start for the rest of the year!

Remember that the idea is to simplify, to refine, to return to our basic selves and to nurture ourselves to greater wisdom, maturity, awareness and compassion, all of which can also be called freedom. It’s not so much a matter of how religiously or how right one is as a matter of the ever-developing quality and quantity of involvement, year after year.

Chag Kasher V’Sameach, a Happy and Kosher Holiday since without Happiness there is no Kashrut.

The three-week period ending with Tisha B’Av has long been associated with mourning the many disasters which have befallen the Jewish people throughout history. Highlighted by, but not begun with the destructions of the two Holy Temples, it often seems a time for looking backwards, for taking stock, for strongly feeling the victim of so much horror. And so it has been and have we been.

But Judaism is trivialized if it merely marks and wallows in the pain of the past, no matter how real and authentic that pain has been. One can claim for Judaism an historical distinction as the most abused tribe, but that’s neither the point nor worth an argument.

What is and always has been central, however, is how can we use these feelings, these experiences, these insights, so strong at this phase of the yearly cycle, to reach new heights, to grow and become more aware, to increase our ultimate union with the Creator, even through the path of pain.

In fact, the very word “How”, “Eicha” is the key to this night and day. How can Jerusalem, the City of Peace, sit so alone, how can Moses, alone, bear the weight of leadership? These are the historical questions.

Perhaps our questions should be more along the lines of how can we trust the Almighty so we can open ourselves to feel the heartbreak? How can we celebrate this shattering of the klippah, the hard shell covering our hearts, protecting/preventing us from the full depth of feeling? And after we make ourselves so vulnerable, after we peel off our layers of comfort, how can we rebuild? How can we grow more loving, more giving, more compassionate for having taken this very profound journey?

Of course there is no specific answer which will work universally for each of us. Part of the opening, the vulnerablity, is to allow ourselves the experience the loneliness of exile and transform it to the solitute of revelation. With our unique neshamot, souls, we are all of us small parts, but fragments which carry the whole, the One, the Echad within.

This, actually, is the secret our sages describe in the longing for the rebuilding of the Temple and the restoration of the temple service. Remember, the karbanot, badly mis-translated as “sacrifices”, are really processes to bring people together with each other, with The Creator, to unify the material with the spiritual worlds, to fulfill the ultimate Unification of transcendent harmony and love.

The Gemara (Brachot, Chapter 1) tells the story of Rabbi Yosi who, fearing marauders on the road, ducked into one of the relatively recent ruins of Jerusalem in order to pray. The mysterious Elijah appeared to him in the doorway and, after he finished his prayers, shooed him out of the ruin, assured him of the safety of praying while one the road and also taught him that in such a situation he should pray the “short” prayer. Rabbi Yosi proclaims that he’s learned three important lessons, not to enter a ruin, to pray on the road and to pray in shortened form. He immediately merits hearing a Godly voice which then leads us into further territory.

There are many levels, historical, halachic and the like where deep meaning can be found from this tale. The Eyn Yaakov (one of the three primary sources (along with the Marhasha and the Maharal of Prague) to begin unlocking the Aggadic (narrative rather than legal) face of Gemara teaches us to substitute other concepts in order to learn the hidden but fundamental lesson of this story.

Digesting the decoding process, we learn than the ruin represents the recent Temple destruction and the road, or as it’s literally presented, the derech, the way, represents the exile. We learn that in prayer, Rabbi Yosi entered the ruin, that is he fixed his full heart and mind on the past. He sought escape from the road, the derech, the path which, at that time had become the great Exile because of his great fear for the future. In that condition he performed the long prayer, in other words he prayed for everything all at once, for instant redemption, for the immediate end of this often terrifying challenge.

He was corrected by the mystical Elijah, the harbinger of the Redmeption to focus on the present, the derech, the path. Not merely to not be afraid, but to embrace it’s challenge. And rather than to pray for it all to be over, to pray the short prayer, the limited prayer which tries to truly asses our current situation and abilities, to bravely and proudly take those small steps which are given to each of us. But the Eyn Yaakov empasises and repeats that this is a special small prayer in that in contains within it all the essence of the long prayer. In other words, each of us working with our unique abilities and challenges, being true to our individual neshamot, our true souls, has the ability to bring about the complete enlightenment and redemption we all long for. By reaching and not fearing, by reaching and by not over-reaching, with humility and good fellowship, our year’s worth of barriers we’ve built over our hearts shattered, perhaps allowing us this time to truly connect. May it happen soon in our days.

9 Av, 5760

MISHNA: Raban Gamiliel says that everyone should pray the “Eighteen (Blessings)” daily. Rabbi Yehoshua says that one should only pray an extract (May-Eyin) of the “Eighteen Blessings” Rabbi Akiva says that if one knows them clearly one should say all eighteen, otherwise one should pray the extract. Rabbi Eliezer says that whoever prays “on automatic” isn’t really praying at all……… The Mishna invites us to a deeper understanding of one of the central pillars of Jewish prayer, the Amida, “The Standing”, also known as the Shemona Esrey, “The Eighteen”. It begins by assuming we’re already familiar with the concept and begins with the injunction to say the complete prayer every day. Remember, this was in a time before printed prayerbooks (or anything else) and so it had to be known by heart. Raban Gamliel, the head of the community, felt it reasonable that this prayer, so important, would be known so well by all that they would eagerly say it completely. Rabbi Yehoshua, perhaps a little more realistic, only required an extract of the prayer. [note: The Hebrew word also means either “from the eye of” or “from the well of”. Thus we’ve just received the hint that something about this prayer is related to the eye (which receives light) and to water (which flows from a well and to which Tora is always likened). Somehow this daily prayer connects us to the Infinite Light as well as to its physical, and thus finite representation, the Torah or, in other words, before we even start we’re now working in both the finite, human domain as well as the infinite]. Rabbi Akiva, considered by many to have been the greatest scholar of all, presents the compromise/clarification that if one can easily handle the full prayer, fine, but if not the condensed version is just as effective. In other words, it’s the involvement rather than the expertise which counts. To emphasize this, Rabbi Eliezer warns that if one is so involved in technical mastery as to lose any real meaning, the prayer isn’t worth bubkes. Prayer, like music, like love, must come from the heart. (In fact, the remainder of the Mishna, in a veiled way, speaks directly to this point!).

GEMARA: On what are these “Eighteen Blessings” based? Rabbi Hillel the son of Rabbi Shmuel Bar Nachmani says that they’re indicated by the eighteen times the name of God is mentioned in Psalm 29, “Bring to God, you sons of the mighty”. Rabbi Joseph bases it on the eighteen times God’s name is mentioned in the Shema. Rabbi Tanchum said in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua Ben Levy that the eighteen blessings correspond to the eighteen major vertebrae in the human spine.

Oftentimes a good way to get to know someone/something is to investigate its name. The Gemara jumps in to do just that. Rabbi Hillel the son of Rabbi Shmuel notices that the Divine name is mentioned eighteen times in the 29th Psalm, most often related to Kaballat Shabbat (Welcoming the Sabbath) and reading to Torah. In other words, he’s telling us that our daily prayer corresponds on a very deep level to both the Shabbat and to the Torah. Rav Yosef brings us a new connection, this time with the Shema which also contains eighteen repetitions of the Divine Name. The Shema, as we already know, is the central declaration of the Unity of All. Thus in this prayer we approach all that there is which is now further linked with the realm of Shabbat and with the Torah.

While this is very interesting, it’s still too abstract and removed from our regular experience, so Rabbi Tanchum, in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua Ben Levy, points out another occurrence of “eighteen”, the primary vertebrae as seen in medieval anatomy (in fact there are additional cervical and tail vertebrae, but the largest set actually does contain eighteen!). The spine! The structure that stands us upright, makes us, in a certain way, human. The spine also represents the vav in the Divine Name, the connector between the upper and the lower realms. The prayer of Eighteen engages us as humans, the bridge between the limitless light, the infinite All-ness and the physical world which is our arena for our efforts.

Rabbi Tanchum also said in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua Ben Levy that when praying one should bow until all the vertebrae pop up. Ulla says one should bow until an issar (an ancient coin) can be seen opposite the heart. Rabbi Hanina says that if one merely bows his head that’s sufficient and Raba adds that’s true only if one’s soul is in pain and one can only appear to be bowing.

In a not-unusual sidestep, the discussion slides across to discuss the last topic, the spine, and, in this case, in direct relationship to the Amida since tradition teaches us to bow twice at the beginning and twice at the end of the prayer. Rabbi Tanchum, once again in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua Ben Levy, defines bowing in terms of the spine. The self-same spine whose uprightness defines us as human, which connects our higher to our lower natures, must be not only leveled but actually bent so the higher rests below the lower. This isn’t what it first seems to be, some kind of debasing groveling. Rather, as we recall Abraham’s words in Genesis, “I am dust and ashes”, we realize that all Creation is really just “stuff”, dust. Thus we joyously experience our unity with the entire physical universe (remember the previous hint of linking the prayer to the Shema?).

Ulla, a great scholar in spite of never having received rabbinic ordination (one needn’t be “certified” to participate in this great, free-wheeling and multi-generational conversation), describes the bow differently, imagining a small coin (the “issur”) lodged in the flesh of the belly where the skin folds when we bow, being greeted by the descending heart. But, for those with a little Hebrew background, the name of the coin, issur is too close for coincidence, actually identical to the word for something prohibited, also issur. Ulla thus suggests that part of this prayer involves bringing our heart to our own shortcomings. And since we’re connected to the All of the Universe, opening our heart to all imperfection.

Rabbi Hanina opens the door for the subtlety of an acknowledging head nod but Raba, also a great (in fact his name translates to “Great”) lay (un-ordained) scholar, explains that’s only if one is so soul-hurt that one can only begin this opening process. In other words, much like Raba and Ulla themselves, one is already invited to participate, no tickets or degrees or titles required.

It’s the FESTIVAL OF LIGHTS, a time of joy and celebration and the Maharal from Prague begins his Chanukkah book, Ner Mitzva (either “The Mitzva Candle” or, as I prefer, “Mitzvah = Candle”) by relating a nightmarish prophecy from Daniel. It’s night and one after another, four horrible monsters emerge from the sea, each more frightening than the last, with the fourth presenting an order-of-magnitude increase in terror. He goes on to relate each beast to one of the wicked kingdoms who have conquered and oppressed Israel. Perhaps this will become a Festival of Lights, but it certainly is no light festival.

Before proceeding farther, I want to emphasize that I will use the term Israel not in the tribal sense of The Jewish People but in a more universal and spiritual sense as indicating a state of mind, a level of development, enlightenment and awareness. Certainly over most of our history Jewish survival has depended upon, among other things, a very strong tribal identity. However, living in the contemporary miracle of a time and place where a great many people are able to and choose to explore their own spiritual potentials and thus try to share in the great work of tikkun olam, completing the world, we can look around and both learn from and share with other great human spiritual paths as well as honor and be honored by them.

Before painting too rosy a picture of western culture in the beginning of the twenty-first century, we do have to keep in mind that we’ve just finished the most horrific and dangerous century in human history. Two world wars, The Holocaust, too many genocides to number, atomic weapons and the foundation of the greatest environmental and ecological disaster the planet has ever known brings us back to reality pretty quickly.

As we must create a bridge from the dark despair into the light of compassion and freedom, Chanukkah provides us a ritual as well as a world of insights. Perhaps we should follow the Maharal‘s clue as our first step. The four beasts/evil kingdoms are Babylon, representing spiritual arrogance (remember that written culture and many religions (including Judaism!) seem to have begun on the Babylonian plain), Persia, representing excessive physical sensuality (the Esther story takes place almost entirely in the context of feasts and parties!), Greece, representing intellectual arrogance (Greek culture is well-known for it’s foundations of science, philosophy and aesthetics) and Rome, the fourth and continuing exile, the most terrible fourth beast, the succeeding and transcending heir to the earlier three. Chanukkah itself is the tale of our liberation from Greece and, as such, the blueprint of our future redemption.

Remember the kaballistic principle of “as below, also above” and it’s corollary, “as without, also within”. When we work to free ourselves internally, we contribute to the greater liberation. When we light a candle here in our homes, we light a candle in the world of the spirit (which is equivalent to lighting a candle, casting light, within). When we talk of our national oppression by Babylon, by Persia, by Greece or by Rome, we talk about our inner obstacles in the realms of spirit, body, intellect and integration. When we speak of purifying the Sanctuary, we speak of cleaning out the distracting, exhausting fears and complacencies that prevent us from identifying, let alone honoring our sanctuary within.

There are a number of avenues available within ourselves, some more inviting than others not only to different people but to the same person at different moments. The internal structure begins to hint at a number of these. When the Maharal specifies four kingdoms, we’re invited to consider other fours within our tradition. The first association that comes to my mind is the Four Matriarchs, Sara, Rachel, Bebecca and Leah. This leads us to ponder feminine energy in general as well as the specific archetypes represented by these women. A clue here is the oft-repeated process for the ultimate Redemption, often called the Messianic Age as well as Olam HaBa, the World That Comes (usually mis-translated as the World To Come), which is the rising of the long-surpressed Feminine Energy, Malchut, to equalize with the long-dominant masculine forces. The Holy Mothers also represent individual Sephirot within the Tree of Life system.

Another clear association is the concept of the Four Worlds, Atzilut, Beriya, Yetzira and Asiya (Emanation, Creation, Forming and Doing). There are also the four levels of interpreting the Torah, Peshat, Remez, Drash and Sod (simple meaning,hint, ethical imperative and secret (mystical)), the famous Pardes which was visited by four masters, one of whom died, one lost his mind, one became so disillusioned as to leave the faith and only one, Rabbi Akiva, “came in peace and left in peace“.

We also consider the Holy Name of Four Letters, the unpronounced Tetragramaton, each of whose letter points to a world, a level of understanding, a Holy mother and together point to a breathing technique used in meditation as hinted at by the Four Remembrances we’re supposed to incorporate into our daily experience. The Yod, a small point, represents our emptying ourselves, emptying our breath so we’re able to receive. It’s related to the Exodus from Egypt, a redemption for which no input from us was required. The first Heh, like the final one, among other things, represents a hand since it’s numerical value is five. This is considered the upper hand (an interesting note is that the word for “hand” is “yad“, related to the first letter!), the hand which brings energy from above to below, from the Divine to the earthly. It’s related to the memory of received the Torah, the Jewish paradigm of Divine Energy, at Sinai. We breathe in with this letter. Vav is the third letter and it represents the spine. We bring our breath, our received energy, down our spine and throught our body, cleansing, purifying, energizing. This is realted to remembering Amalek, of all things. Amalek, the irrational enemy who attacks for no reason. Remembering that whenever “war” is brought up in Torah, written as well as oral, it speaks, just a little below the surface, of the war with our own basest natures. We allow the oxygen to flow through our bodies. The final Heh, again a hand, represents our action and our speech, how they no operate in a purer, more compassionate way. We remember the misuse of verbal action, the lashan hara, slander of Moshe by his own sister, Miriam.

The great Hasidic master, Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, in his foundational text, Kedushat Levi, instructs us to relate all of this to another “four”, again a four-lettered name of God but one which we can pronounce. In fact, the only time that God is directly asked his name he gives this answer, Eheye asher Eheye, I timelessly am what I timeless am (or I evolve to what I evolve or…….). In Hebrew, these are the letters Alef Heh Yod Heh. Breaking these letters down into their components, we generate the Holy Seventy-two Letter Divine Name. The matrix of meanings and powers of this name are beyond the scope of this article (remember, we’re still talking about Chanukkah and will return directly to it soon!), infinitely beyond my own understanding. In any event, a mantra meditation suggests itself with this name, Silence, Eh, Ehey, Eheye.

At this point you might ask why I’m talking about meditation when the topic is supposed to be Chanukkah! In the great Jewish tradition of answering a question with a question, I’d ask what are we supposed to do after lighting the candles? Give the presents? Well, that can wait for a few minutes (and by the way, although we don’t need to make Chanukkah the “Jewish Christmas” (and most Christians don’t seem very pleased with the gross commercialization of their holy day), there is a very strong value in presents–little feels as good or helps us grow as giving!).

No, we’re told that we can’t use the flames for anything “useful” and, in fact, should merely look at them. In other words, MEDITATE! When the halacha says that women aren’t to work while the candles are burning, the implication is that no one works (not, as might well be a good idea either before or after the candles, that the husband and children prepare the meal…..)

So, lighting the “candles within”, we meditate and let our souls rise. One meditation I enjoy is to begin with total darkness. After a bit, I visualize the first lit candle, the tremendous revolution of just a single light. And the next night, the next candle arrives and even just two candles within all the darkness, the light has literally just doubled. And then I visualize it increasing, step by step, until my “inner sanctuary” is filled with light. And then I add the eighth candle, the number which (and we’ll cover this in a moment) represents overflowing and transcending the material Creation and I feel the light pour out of me and flow to join the light pouring out of everyone else, joining to form a greater light which, eventually, can illuminate the world!

Another meditation is to incorporate associations with each of the numbers, one through eight, including, as it were, once again, every night of Chanukkah within each. You might remember, jumping across the year for a moment, the Passover seder where we sing many songs at the end. One very important reason, indeed, for these songs is to keep the children interested so they are included in the entire ritual on that important night. But they also give us keys to other important information. The song Ehad Mi Yodaya, “Who Knows One”, gives us a basic key to Jewish numerology. One is God, Two the Two Tablets of the Ten Commandments (the first physical manifestation of the Infinite into our limited world), Three, the Patriarchs (Abraham, Isaac and Jacob/Israel, representing also the first three of the lower seven Sephirot (Chesed-Loving-Kindness/Gevura-Strength/Tiferet-Balance, Beauty), Four, the Matriarchs (Sara, Rebecca, Leah and Rachel, also representing the next four Sephirot,Netzach-Victory/Hod-Splendor/Yesod-Foundation/Malchut-Majesty (yes, “Kingship” is considered Feminine!)), Five, the Five Books of the Law (the Written and thus definite Torah), Six, the Six orders of the Mishna (in other words, the infinite, eternally unfolding and evolving as we participate in the present Divine Energy), Seven, the days of the week (in other words, the physical, created world) and Eight, the day of a baby Jewish boy’s Brit Mila, that which makes him a Jew (and remember what we said earlier, we’re not using the concept of “Jew” as a tribal one but rather as shorthand for a transcendent level of enlightenment/compassion/growth which is available to all humans). Thus we can count within ourselves each progressing stage of Chanukkah while we increase the light we create within and without.

The Kedushat Levi also emphasizes that the miracle of Chanukkah flowed through the merit of Jacob. This is a very important hint since Jacob/Israel leads us to the concept of two names, as the Kedushat Levi points out, one for this world and one for Olam Haba (see above). As this led us earlier to explore the “candle below and the candle above” in terms of inner imaging, we can also try to visualize the “upper light” and realize that each candle we light is, in truth, two. Thus the total number of lights for the holiday is seventy-two mentioned above, linking us through a new path to the Holy Name of Seventy-Two. Many people chant/meditate the “Ana B’Koach“, attributed to Rabbi Nehunia ben Ha-Kana, the talmudic sage and mystic who also, we’re told, wrote the early Kaballistic text, The Bahir, right after lighting because it also outlines this Holy Name. When we add sixteen to this (the eight shamashot (extra candle we use to light the others and which we are allowed to use) above and below), we generate the Hebrew word, pach which refers to the miraculous cruse of oil which, in some interpretations, is exactly what Jacob recrossed the river to retrieve, thus spending the night alone, wrestling with the angel and receiving his “upper” name, Yisrael, weaving yet another loop in the net.

As we have all these kernels around which, hopefully, new and unique insights can coalesce, it’s worth wondering what, if anything, we hope to achieve with these rituals and meditations. My teacher and friend, Rabbi Ted Falcon, points out that we celebrate purifying the sanctuary which leads us to trying to clean out “the sanctuary within”. TheMaharal, as we mentioned earlier, suggests trying to clear away our crippling habits of mind, body and spirit, to start anew and free. The Kedushat Levi also reminds us that the personal redemptions of Yom Kippur occur in the Hebrew month of Tishrei. The following month, Heshvan, lacks holidays. And it’s only in the third month, Kislev, where perhaps the realization sinks in enough that we’re able to actually dedicate and rededicate ourselves to growth, illumination and enlightenment, also teaching us that, as for all things important, patience is a very necessary ingredient.

I hope this very limited Chanukkah offering helps enrich your holiday.

Two short lessons from the Megilla before we start to read it.

The first is based on the pasuk when King Ahashveros appoints Haman to his high position. Before that, there was a sense of uneasiness among the Jews in exile, but it didn’t seem like they could pinpoint it. After all, they appeared to have every freedom in the world, including the privilege, as Rashi tells us, to even drink kosher wine at Ahashveros’s feast. But still, we sing of the exile which brought Mordechai and his people to Shushan in the mourning tones of Eicha, Lamentations.

We also are reminded in rabbinic commentaries that Ahashveros was an even greater symbol of evil that Haman.

However, we also have been taught and assured that everything, including all the evil in our historic experience, is ultimately transformed to good. That is to say that somehow, even if we can’t understand it at the time, perhaps not even fifty or hundreds of years later, everything presents an opportunity to grow and evolve. Not to trivialize such horror as The Holocaust, whose meaning is still hidden from us, “no pain no gain”. Judaism is ultimately a very optimistic tradition with a firm belief that the path, no matter how it might seem at times totally chaotic, pointless and hopeless, ultimately leads to a final state-change of the ultimate evolution of the world and of ourselves.

Thus, Ahashveros not only begins what might become the ultimate downfall of the state of mind we call “Israel”, he also, inadvertently, opens the possibility of healing by identifying the problem, always the first step towards reaching a new level of awareness. As we’ve seen all too often in our historical experience, we survive because of external enemies. Thus Haman and his plans create the Achdut, the unity which is not only our goal but our path to it. And on a deeper level, instead of looking at this process as some sort of avoidance of responsibility by blaming it on something outside of ourselves, what we’re really doing is refining ourselves through processing our inner obstacles and expelling them–not always easy and rarely without risk.

The second incident in the Megilla I want to address was explained by the Sfat Emet. He points out that we read first about Mordechai emerging in royal costume followed by the city of Shushan being filled with joy. Why on earth would the majority, non-Jewish, population care about Mordechai, and obscure bureaucrat from an insignificant tribe of foreigners, one way or the other? The simple and yet profound answer is that whenever someone stands up to a challenge, performs any positive act, be it small or huge, the entire world profits. The Mishna in Avot says that in a place where there are no men, and by this we’re not discussing gender but humanity, strive to become a man. Each moment of compassion, of helping, of doing something positive does have a significant effect on all of Creation.

Now let’s begin the fun. Chag Purim Sameach!

Each year our people fast and mourn. We turn inside to remember the destruction of the two Holy Temples in Jerusalem, along with any number of other national disasters. We dream of and plead for our full return to Jerusalem, the ultimate building of the Third Temple, one described as being a worship place for all nations. We dream of the ultimate renewal and integration of the world, a messianic age of peace and reward and we fret at how far we seem from that ideal.

Perhaps it takes direct experience to open our eyes to what should have been clear and obvious. Our own lives continuously present us with the next and most appropriate and rewarding challenge for our journey. Good times, bad times are all opportunities if only we can see them.

The Temple, and the Tabernacle before it, served as a meeting place for the Infinite and the finite, for mankind and God. Not that one can localize or restrict the Divine to one or any physical location, but perhaps this space on earth most facilitates the approach of Man. We speak of it as a dwelling place for the Shechina, the feminine Divine presence. With the destruction of the Temples and the exile from the Holy Land, we speak of the Exile of the Shechina, the inavailability of the feminine.

And with the inavailability of the feminine, the Tree of Life lacks Malchut with which to join and to power this world; thus to be able via our efforts, finish our role as Creation Partners with the Creator. And without this primal connection, things fall apart.

The world shatters from the top down. The Inspiration of Chochma cannot undergos the analysis of Bina to become useful knowledge, Da’at. Chesed cannont join with Gevurah to becomeTiferet, nor can Neztach and Hod partner to create Yesod. We are unable to join all the energies of Creation. We fall short in our goal and find ourselves alienated, discouraged and wondering why to go on……

The answer our tradition has given us is to fast, to mortify our souls, to refrain from the holy intercourse with our lovers, symbolic of the curse and not the cure. I find this so curious, so pointed, so eloquent.

In a year of personal separation I experience this disconnect in the gut, not merely in the mind. The challenge is to continue to build and maintain a Temple, a dwelling for the Shechina, longingly awating Her return.