Shalom everyone! Things have been great here in Israel. It's been relatively quiet; the major holidays have come and gone and now it's time for the long stretch of learning. Now is the time to buckle down and be persistent in the pursuit of goals, to constantly take a little baby step every day until you've covered good ground. I have a sizable amount of material to learn as my goal and a fairly good amount of time to accomplish it. Along with the extended period of time, however, comes feelings such as monotony, frustration, and, yes, even a bit of homesickness. It is because of this that I'd like to dedicate this weeks Torah blog to my Mother who's back in the States and who I miss tremendously; I find this to be a fairly fitting parsha since it deals with righteous Jewish mothers (Funny thing that it doesn't mention Jewish guilt! :-P)
This week's parsha is parshas Chaya Sarah, also known as "the life of Sarah". Sarah , as you might recall, is the wife of Abraham and mother of Isaac. She was always a constant support for her husband in all of his endeavours, as well as an incredibly caring mother to her son. We begin the parsha, however, with her death, an interesting way to start a parsha that seems, based on the title, to be all about her life! While this may seem like one big mix-up, if we take a closer, we will see how it couldn't a more fitting title. The bulk of the parsha deals with the search for a wife for Isaac; Sarah has just passed away and Abraham realizes that he too will not be around forever. It is because of this, coupled with the fact that Isaac is to be the next torchbearer of G-d's message, that Abraham feels it proper to send his servant, Eliezer, on a journey to find a woman for Isaac to marry. This is the meaning of this story on the simple level, yet on a deeper level, they were looking for the next Sarah, someone to continue on with her life's work, a woman holy and pure enough to be on the same level that the first matriarch was on.
If we take a closer look at different points in the story, we will be able to see the affects that Sarah's life had on the search for the next matriarch. Firstly, the way in which Eliezer found Isaac's future wife, Rebecca, tells a bit about Rebecca's pure character. In his journey, Eliezer finds a well where prays to G-d; he prays that if a maiden approaches the well and offers water for his camels, then she is the right wife for Isaac, a prayer that sees fulfillment. Her compassion for animals is telling of her status as a "rose among thorns"; Rebecca's family was coarse and still had some idolatrous practices, while Rebecca was a kind person and dedicated monotheist. A deeper interpretation of this shows how holy Rebecca truly was. Water is often a metaphor for Torah so that fact that she is portrayed as drawing water from a well, from the earth, indicates that she was able to find and draw Torah from the physicality of this world. This parallels one of the major traits of Sarah.
A second event that directly indicates a connection between Sarah and Rebecca is the marriage of Isaac to her. The verse says "Isaac brought her (Rebecca) into the tent of his mother, Sarah. He married Rebecca, and she became his wife, and he loved her. Isaac was then consoled for the loss of his mother." (Ber. 24:67) Rashi brings a commentary on the verse indicating that when Rebecca entered into the tent, she became the image of Sarah, his mother. Whether this is to be taken metaphorically or literally is besides the point. What matters most is what Rashi says next; there were certain miraculous that happened in/around the tent when Sarah was alive: a candle burned in the tent from Friday to Friday, a blessing was constantly in the dough for bread, and a cloud hung over the tent, a sign of Divine protection. When Sarah died, these miracles ceased and when Rebecca entered into the tent, they returned. This shows that Rebecca was indeed to right choice to carry on the role of Sarah, matriarch of the Jewish people. But what exactly made Sarah so righteous?
The first verse of the parsha reads as follows: "The lifetime of Sarah consisted of one hundred years, twenty years, and seven years. [These were] the years of Sarah's life." (Ber. 23:1) Here's the question: why not just say 127 years? Why spell it out with first the hundreds then the twenty and then the seven? Also, why repeat that these were the years of Sarah's life? Rashi brings a commentary on the verse to say that by ordering the numbers from highest to lowest, it shows that even when she was an old woman, Sarah appeared to have the beauty of youth both in the physical and the spiritual sense. He also says that by repeating "the years of Sarah's life", it indicates that all of her years were equally good. The Lubavitcher Rebbe comes with a wonderful chassidic interpretation on this Rashi. In Chassidic philosophy, hundred refers to the supra-rational (pleasure & will), twenty refers to intellect(there are two tens; ten corresponds to the intellect and there are two major faculties of intellect i.e. wisdom and understanding), and seven refers to the intellect (one corresponds to emotion and there are, all together, seven faculties of emotion i.e. kindness, severity, etc.) By spelling all of this out, the Rebbe comes to say that she had equally lived up to her supra-rational, intellectual, and emotional capabilities. To drive this point even further, "the years of Sarah's life" allegorically means that all of her soul-powers were permeated with what is called yechida, a certain level of the soul that connects to the transcendent consciousness of G-d.
That all being said, what is there to learn from this interpretation? Finite beings, like Sarah, can only affect their emotions, intellect, and will. When we give over our selfhood and ego to a loftier and transcendent self, then we step outside of ourselves and are in fact no longer limited by our boundaries and restrictions. However, before we can live on such a high level, we must first perfect our conscious soul-powers, practicing self-restraint, compassion, intelligence, understanding, and constantly striving to better ourselves. We may not be selfless by nature, yet by keeping the ultimate goal of selflessness in mind, everything we do has a great purpose, thrust, and affect on ourselves and on those around us. This, and much more, have we learned from our matriarchs past, a tradition of righteous Jewish mothers, a tradition that still goes on to the present. Have an inspired day.
With all my love,
Zach
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Torah blog of the week: the ultimate test
Shalom everyone! I hope that last week's parsha post found you well and provided you with as much inspiration as the parsha itself provided me with. This week's parsha is parshas Vayeira, the second half of Avraham's journey, a journey that culminates with what is considered in the Jewish tradition to be the ultimate test: the akeidah, the binding of Isaac.
The way the narrative goes, G-d appeared to Avraham and told him to take Isaac, his son, to the land of Moriah where he was to offer him up as a sacrifice on one of the mountains that G-d would show him. In a literary sense, we can now see what G-d meant at the beginning of parshas Lech Lecha when He told Avraham to leave everything behind and go to a land that He would show him; this was the end of Avraham's journey, the pinnacle of all he had worked for. What G-d was essentially telling Avraham to do was to take everything that he had stood and worked for, bind it upon the alter, and give it all up. It was the ultimate form of self-sacrifice. We see that Avraham was ready to follow through on G-d's request; he brought Isaac up to the top of Mount Moriah where he prepared him for the sacrifice. Avraham, however, never did physically sacrifice his son. An angel of G-d came and prevented him from carrying the act out. An interesting question arises from this statement: if Avraham didn't actually sacrifice Isaac in the end, then why did the angel say that he did not withhold his son? One could say that he was prepared to give it all up, yet then the verse could have easily said "since you would not have withheld your son from Me." In order to answer this question, we must first look at the examples of Avraham's previous sacrifices.
The first sacrifice that Avraham made to G-d was in the Plain of Moreh. G-d appeared to Avraham and told him that He would give the land to his (Avraham's) offspring. The second sacrifice was given in Bethel. Avraham built an alter and made a sacrifice there without G-d's appearing to him; he invoked G-d and was able to prophetically see a future sin that his descendents would commit there. A third alter was then built in Hebron, the city in which the Patriarchs and Matriarchs (with the except of Rachel) would be buried. It was a sacrifice that was purely out of love for G-d. These three alters parallel the three basic forms of Temple sacrifice: the peace offering to "inspire" G-d to provide us with sustenance (G-d telling Avraham that He will give Avraham the land), the sin offering to atone for transgressions (the future transgression of Avraham's descendents), and an ascent offering to express love for G-d (Hebron). Indeed, we see another sacrifice after these three that both alludes to and supports the idea of future Temple sacrifice. Let's see how they all finally culminate in the binding of Isaac.
I said before that Avraham never did physically sacrifice Isaac, but this does not mean that he did not spiritually. The moment that Avraham raised the knife to slaughter his son, he had killed him in his heart. He was merely moments away from actualizing this sacrifice, yet was prevented from doing so. What took Isaac's place? There was a ram that Avraham found caught in the thicket by its horns. Symbolically, Avraham took the sacrifice of Isaac and enclothed it within an animal. From then on, sacrifice took on a completely new meaning, as a stand-in offering where we should really be. The type of sacrifice that is required of us, though, is not physical; G-d showed this to us through the akeidah. Rather, G-d suddenly asked of humanity to push itself beyond its limits in order to do what was right, to give up the blindness of idolatry and embrace the brilliant all-embracing light of G-d. This new recontextualization of sacrifice was realized in its full potential with the building of the Temple in Jerusalem. (It's interesting to note that the Temple was built at the very location that Avraham bound Isaac).
The Temple, however, with all of its glory and daily sacrifices, is gone, a recollection of the past. So then the million dollar question is "how does this all apply to me today?" We pray. After the destruction of the Second Temple, prayer became a replacement for sacrifice. When we pray, we are supposed to offer up the animal inside of us; our pride, envy, anger, hate, arrogance, all of the things that characterize a symbolic idolatry. When a person has these negative feelings, they are consumed within themselves, so much so that they could forget about G-d and think that they are the only thing that matters in this world. Prayer forces us to step outside of and to recognize something greater than ourselves. It keeps us in check with whats real, that we're all connected, that G-d cares about what happens in our lives, and that true change is possible.
Although this view of prayer is incredibly beautiful, it isn't the end result of sacrifice. For two thousand years, the Jewish people have yearned to return to the land of Israel. I can tell you from the personal experience of living here for several months the truth of that statement. Reality is more tangible here. You're aware of more things in life. I'm a half hour walk from the Western Wall, the site where the Temples stood and where the akeidah took place. You can experience G-d's presence here a bit more than anywhere else. The main reason why so many Jewish people throughout history have had this yearning is for the day when the daily sacrifice will resume, when the Third Temple, a house of prayer for all the nations, will be built, when the world will come together to praise, to labor, and to love together. Today, we may be seperate and scattered physically and spiritually, yet tomorrow, all of humanity will be truly united. Until that time, let's try to emulate tomorrow today in our thought, speech, and action; in our interactions with people and the way that we decide to live our lives. Once we start doing that, then we'll truly be able to finish the work that Avraham started thousands of years ago. May we see it speedily in our days.
With all my love,
Zach
The way the narrative goes, G-d appeared to Avraham and told him to take Isaac, his son, to the land of Moriah where he was to offer him up as a sacrifice on one of the mountains that G-d would show him. In a literary sense, we can now see what G-d meant at the beginning of parshas Lech Lecha when He told Avraham to leave everything behind and go to a land that He would show him; this was the end of Avraham's journey, the pinnacle of all he had worked for. What G-d was essentially telling Avraham to do was to take everything that he had stood and worked for, bind it upon the alter, and give it all up. It was the ultimate form of self-sacrifice. We see that Avraham was ready to follow through on G-d's request; he brought Isaac up to the top of Mount Moriah where he prepared him for the sacrifice. Avraham, however, never did physically sacrifice his son. An angel of G-d came and prevented him from carrying the act out. An interesting question arises from this statement: if Avraham didn't actually sacrifice Isaac in the end, then why did the angel say that he did not withhold his son? One could say that he was prepared to give it all up, yet then the verse could have easily said "since you would not have withheld your son from Me." In order to answer this question, we must first look at the examples of Avraham's previous sacrifices.
The first sacrifice that Avraham made to G-d was in the Plain of Moreh. G-d appeared to Avraham and told him that He would give the land to his (Avraham's) offspring. The second sacrifice was given in Bethel. Avraham built an alter and made a sacrifice there without G-d's appearing to him; he invoked G-d and was able to prophetically see a future sin that his descendents would commit there. A third alter was then built in Hebron, the city in which the Patriarchs and Matriarchs (with the except of Rachel) would be buried. It was a sacrifice that was purely out of love for G-d. These three alters parallel the three basic forms of Temple sacrifice: the peace offering to "inspire" G-d to provide us with sustenance (G-d telling Avraham that He will give Avraham the land), the sin offering to atone for transgressions (the future transgression of Avraham's descendents), and an ascent offering to express love for G-d (Hebron). Indeed, we see another sacrifice after these three that both alludes to and supports the idea of future Temple sacrifice. Let's see how they all finally culminate in the binding of Isaac.
I said before that Avraham never did physically sacrifice Isaac, but this does not mean that he did not spiritually. The moment that Avraham raised the knife to slaughter his son, he had killed him in his heart. He was merely moments away from actualizing this sacrifice, yet was prevented from doing so. What took Isaac's place? There was a ram that Avraham found caught in the thicket by its horns. Symbolically, Avraham took the sacrifice of Isaac and enclothed it within an animal. From then on, sacrifice took on a completely new meaning, as a stand-in offering where we should really be. The type of sacrifice that is required of us, though, is not physical; G-d showed this to us through the akeidah. Rather, G-d suddenly asked of humanity to push itself beyond its limits in order to do what was right, to give up the blindness of idolatry and embrace the brilliant all-embracing light of G-d. This new recontextualization of sacrifice was realized in its full potential with the building of the Temple in Jerusalem. (It's interesting to note that the Temple was built at the very location that Avraham bound Isaac).
The Temple, however, with all of its glory and daily sacrifices, is gone, a recollection of the past. So then the million dollar question is "how does this all apply to me today?" We pray. After the destruction of the Second Temple, prayer became a replacement for sacrifice. When we pray, we are supposed to offer up the animal inside of us; our pride, envy, anger, hate, arrogance, all of the things that characterize a symbolic idolatry. When a person has these negative feelings, they are consumed within themselves, so much so that they could forget about G-d and think that they are the only thing that matters in this world. Prayer forces us to step outside of and to recognize something greater than ourselves. It keeps us in check with whats real, that we're all connected, that G-d cares about what happens in our lives, and that true change is possible.
Although this view of prayer is incredibly beautiful, it isn't the end result of sacrifice. For two thousand years, the Jewish people have yearned to return to the land of Israel. I can tell you from the personal experience of living here for several months the truth of that statement. Reality is more tangible here. You're aware of more things in life. I'm a half hour walk from the Western Wall, the site where the Temples stood and where the akeidah took place. You can experience G-d's presence here a bit more than anywhere else. The main reason why so many Jewish people throughout history have had this yearning is for the day when the daily sacrifice will resume, when the Third Temple, a house of prayer for all the nations, will be built, when the world will come together to praise, to labor, and to love together. Today, we may be seperate and scattered physically and spiritually, yet tomorrow, all of humanity will be truly united. Until that time, let's try to emulate tomorrow today in our thought, speech, and action; in our interactions with people and the way that we decide to live our lives. Once we start doing that, then we'll truly be able to finish the work that Avraham started thousands of years ago. May we see it speedily in our days.
With all my love,
Zach
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Torah Blog of the Week: Abraham's Journey
Shalom everyone! This week's parsha is parshas Lech Lecha a.k.a. my bar mitzvah parsha! That's right, nine years ago this this coming Saturday, Yours Truly became a Jewish man! There's a ton of great memories that I have of that day: reading the musaf and haftarah, getting soft candies thrown at me by about fifty people, partying it up like a fool, and counting all of my presents! There is, however, one thing that I wish I had done a little better and that is my dvar Torah. I guess you could say that this week's Torah blog is my second chance, so put yourself back in time nine years at Temple Sinai and let's go!
Have you ever known something to be so true or have seen the truth while others around you were oblivious? Was this truth so antithetical to those in the society around you that the weight of it seemed almost too much to bare? Was one of the responsibilties of this truth the nearly impossible task of showing and teaching those around you of the universality of it's philosophy? This was the challenge of Abram (his name was later changed to 'Abraham' by Hashem). Abram lived in a time when idolatrous practices were the norm, when the concept of a One G-d was absurd, and even more absurd was the fact that this G-d had no shape or form. Many righteous people before Abram's time had known about this G-d, yet none of them had the courage or creativity necessary to resist and oppose the corruption of the surrounding culture, the heal to rift that had formed between Heaven and Earth. What set Abram apart from all of them and what eventually merited him to be known as the patriarch of Judaism was the fact that he was not fazed by society's depravity; in fact, he was inspired by it. He became an activist for G-d, going from place to place, pointing out the illogical views of idolators and teaching them about the universal message that G-d had to offer them. There was only one flaw in Abram's approach: it was still based on his own personal convictions and reasonings as opposed to Divine ones. In order for Abram to merit such an approach, he would have to embark on a journey, one filled with hardship, struggles, failures, and tests that would push him beyond all psychological and spiritual boundaries. It is in this parsha that we see the beginning of this journey with the first verse: "Hashem said to Abram, 'Go for yourself from your land, from your birthplace and from your father's house to the land that I will show you.'" (Ber. 12:1)
Now, there seems to be a contradiction in this story: In last week's parsha, we read that Terach (Abram's father) had already began the journey with his family, so why does the Torah need to repeat this to Abram? If one looks a little closer at the verse from last week's parsha where this is mentioned, they will notice a slight difference in the wording: "Terach took his son Abram,...and they departed with them from Ur-kasdim to go to the land of Cana'an; they arrived at Charan and they settled there." (Ber. 11:31) Notice that the central character is Terach and not Abram. This implies that the journey from Ur-kasdim to Cana'an was begun by Abram's father, Terach, and in this week's verse, Abram is the central character, implying an entirely seperate journey from Terach's. What could this mean? Perhaps what we're witnessing in the text is a "passing of the mantle", that the Terach had done all he could have done as Abram's father and now it was time for Abram to become to father of the future Jewish people. Indeed, we see in the last verse of last week's parsha that Terach dies in Charan, leaving Abram alone to decide where to go; this is when Hashem came into the picture as the new father figure and guiding force in Abram's life.
What exactly was Hashem asking Abram to do by going on this journey? He was, in a sense, asking him to leave everything. The Ramban (Rabbi Moses ben Nachman, 12th-13th century rabbi, philosopher, physicist, Kabbalist, and Biblical commentator) gives a great expounding on this verse: "...it is difficult for a man to leave his land, in which he dwells, where his loved ones and friends are. All the more so when it is the land of his birthplace, where he was born. And (even) all the more so when his father's entire household is there. Therefore, it was necessary to tell him that he should leave everything for the love of the Holy One, Blessed is He." (Art Scroll Ramban Ber. pg. 289) What we learn here is really quite remarkable; this journey that Abram was making was not only a physical journey, but a spiritual one as well. In order for Abram to become the "vessel" for monotheism, he had to leave his entire life behind him; the corruptive culture which he had grown up in, a trend of idolatry that he knew all too well since we learn from a Midrash that Abram's father, Terach, was an idol maker. Abram had to become a blank slate with which he could rewrite a new story.
To elaborate on the spiritual aspect of this journey, there is a remarkable chasidic interpretation taken from the Lubavitcher Rebbe (Likutei Sichot, vol. 2, pg. 659). In hebrew, the first words "lech lecha" are commonly translated as "go for you". However, the "l" in "lecha" can mean either "for" or "to". If we switch out the "for", then it would be translated as "go to you." This implies a sense of looking inward, discovering yourself, returning to your inner core. The Rebbe goes on to further explain that "from your land" means to transcend your earthly desires, desires such as materialism, vanity, hedonism, etc. "from your birthplace" means that one can accomplish this by overcoming their natural habits and inclinations i.e. questioning one's motivation for indulging in physical pleasures, for self-centeredness, anger, and jealousy. "from your father's house" means that one can accomplish this by transcending their intellectual limitations i.e. recognizing that we are limited, finite beings and that there is something much greater than us (G-d). Once we've recognized the fleetingness and flaws of our intellect, then we can attach ourselves to the greater intellect of Hashem, His Torah, in which he placed His perfect will and universal message for the World.
There is one final issue to address in the verse and that is the ending "to the land that I will show you." Abram not only had to physically and spiritually leave everything that he once knew behind, but he also had to do it with a perfect and simple faith that Hashem would show him the way. Abram's simple and unquestioning faith in Hashem is brought out in qualitatively and quantitatively greater amounts with each test Hashem gives him; it is one of the main weapons of defense against failure in his mission and journey. So to wrap up this week's blog, what can we learn from the plight of Abram and from this verse specifically? Change is never easy; we often get caught up in our "surroundings", where we've come from in life, where we are at in our journey. If one doesn't realize that they have legs as opposed to roots holding them down to the land, then they will never grow and move onto the life that they are meant to live. Petty problems such as anxiety, worries, and fears carried over from the past and into the future are like the different layers in the verse: not only was it Abram's land, but his birthplace, and also his father's house. All it took was for Hashem to tell Abram to take that first step and Abram embarked on the most important journey in the history of the world. Same thing is true with us; if we follow our calling and "go into ourselves", look deep within to the core of our essence, we can draw out the strength needed to break through our artifical boundaried, to take that first step from point A to point B. At point A, we can never imagine leaving, yet once we've reached point B, we can look back and laugh at all of the worries that we ourselves set up! Not only that, when you turn around from looking back at point A and look forward to where point C is, then you will know that you can continue on in your journey since you've already broken through the boundary of the first step. I wish you all an inspiring Shabbos and a fantastic journey.
With all my love,
Zach
Have you ever known something to be so true or have seen the truth while others around you were oblivious? Was this truth so antithetical to those in the society around you that the weight of it seemed almost too much to bare? Was one of the responsibilties of this truth the nearly impossible task of showing and teaching those around you of the universality of it's philosophy? This was the challenge of Abram (his name was later changed to 'Abraham' by Hashem). Abram lived in a time when idolatrous practices were the norm, when the concept of a One G-d was absurd, and even more absurd was the fact that this G-d had no shape or form. Many righteous people before Abram's time had known about this G-d, yet none of them had the courage or creativity necessary to resist and oppose the corruption of the surrounding culture, the heal to rift that had formed between Heaven and Earth. What set Abram apart from all of them and what eventually merited him to be known as the patriarch of Judaism was the fact that he was not fazed by society's depravity; in fact, he was inspired by it. He became an activist for G-d, going from place to place, pointing out the illogical views of idolators and teaching them about the universal message that G-d had to offer them. There was only one flaw in Abram's approach: it was still based on his own personal convictions and reasonings as opposed to Divine ones. In order for Abram to merit such an approach, he would have to embark on a journey, one filled with hardship, struggles, failures, and tests that would push him beyond all psychological and spiritual boundaries. It is in this parsha that we see the beginning of this journey with the first verse: "Hashem said to Abram, 'Go for yourself from your land, from your birthplace and from your father's house to the land that I will show you.'" (Ber. 12:1)
Now, there seems to be a contradiction in this story: In last week's parsha, we read that Terach (Abram's father) had already began the journey with his family, so why does the Torah need to repeat this to Abram? If one looks a little closer at the verse from last week's parsha where this is mentioned, they will notice a slight difference in the wording: "Terach took his son Abram,...and they departed with them from Ur-kasdim to go to the land of Cana'an; they arrived at Charan and they settled there." (Ber. 11:31) Notice that the central character is Terach and not Abram. This implies that the journey from Ur-kasdim to Cana'an was begun by Abram's father, Terach, and in this week's verse, Abram is the central character, implying an entirely seperate journey from Terach's. What could this mean? Perhaps what we're witnessing in the text is a "passing of the mantle", that the Terach had done all he could have done as Abram's father and now it was time for Abram to become to father of the future Jewish people. Indeed, we see in the last verse of last week's parsha that Terach dies in Charan, leaving Abram alone to decide where to go; this is when Hashem came into the picture as the new father figure and guiding force in Abram's life.
What exactly was Hashem asking Abram to do by going on this journey? He was, in a sense, asking him to leave everything. The Ramban (Rabbi Moses ben Nachman, 12th-13th century rabbi, philosopher, physicist, Kabbalist, and Biblical commentator) gives a great expounding on this verse: "...it is difficult for a man to leave his land, in which he dwells, where his loved ones and friends are. All the more so when it is the land of his birthplace, where he was born. And (even) all the more so when his father's entire household is there. Therefore, it was necessary to tell him that he should leave everything for the love of the Holy One, Blessed is He." (Art Scroll Ramban Ber. pg. 289) What we learn here is really quite remarkable; this journey that Abram was making was not only a physical journey, but a spiritual one as well. In order for Abram to become the "vessel" for monotheism, he had to leave his entire life behind him; the corruptive culture which he had grown up in, a trend of idolatry that he knew all too well since we learn from a Midrash that Abram's father, Terach, was an idol maker. Abram had to become a blank slate with which he could rewrite a new story.
To elaborate on the spiritual aspect of this journey, there is a remarkable chasidic interpretation taken from the Lubavitcher Rebbe (Likutei Sichot, vol. 2, pg. 659). In hebrew, the first words "lech lecha" are commonly translated as "go for you". However, the "l" in "lecha" can mean either "for" or "to". If we switch out the "for", then it would be translated as "go to you." This implies a sense of looking inward, discovering yourself, returning to your inner core. The Rebbe goes on to further explain that "from your land" means to transcend your earthly desires, desires such as materialism, vanity, hedonism, etc. "from your birthplace" means that one can accomplish this by overcoming their natural habits and inclinations i.e. questioning one's motivation for indulging in physical pleasures, for self-centeredness, anger, and jealousy. "from your father's house" means that one can accomplish this by transcending their intellectual limitations i.e. recognizing that we are limited, finite beings and that there is something much greater than us (G-d). Once we've recognized the fleetingness and flaws of our intellect, then we can attach ourselves to the greater intellect of Hashem, His Torah, in which he placed His perfect will and universal message for the World.
There is one final issue to address in the verse and that is the ending "to the land that I will show you." Abram not only had to physically and spiritually leave everything that he once knew behind, but he also had to do it with a perfect and simple faith that Hashem would show him the way. Abram's simple and unquestioning faith in Hashem is brought out in qualitatively and quantitatively greater amounts with each test Hashem gives him; it is one of the main weapons of defense against failure in his mission and journey. So to wrap up this week's blog, what can we learn from the plight of Abram and from this verse specifically? Change is never easy; we often get caught up in our "surroundings", where we've come from in life, where we are at in our journey. If one doesn't realize that they have legs as opposed to roots holding them down to the land, then they will never grow and move onto the life that they are meant to live. Petty problems such as anxiety, worries, and fears carried over from the past and into the future are like the different layers in the verse: not only was it Abram's land, but his birthplace, and also his father's house. All it took was for Hashem to tell Abram to take that first step and Abram embarked on the most important journey in the history of the world. Same thing is true with us; if we follow our calling and "go into ourselves", look deep within to the core of our essence, we can draw out the strength needed to break through our artifical boundaried, to take that first step from point A to point B. At point A, we can never imagine leaving, yet once we've reached point B, we can look back and laugh at all of the worries that we ourselves set up! Not only that, when you turn around from looking back at point A and look forward to where point C is, then you will know that you can continue on in your journey since you've already broken through the boundary of the first step. I wish you all an inspiring Shabbos and a fantastic journey.
With all my love,
Zach
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Torah blog of the week: Noah's Ark
Shalom everyone! With the Jewish holidays ending, it seems that all of our inspiration is ending with it as well and that we are going back to the "normal and mundane" matters of life; however, as with many other things in life, the true test of dedication is to be able to preserve inspiration during the times and in the places that are seemingly void of it. AND SO with that, I'd like to start dedicating a blog for the weekly Torah portion, also refered to as a parshah, that we read in synagogues every week. Last week was Parshas Bereshis (the story of creation all the way up until the birth of Noah), which would make this week's parsah Parshas Noach, the story of the great Biblical flood and Noah's ark. While my knowledge of the Torah is limited, I'd like to share a little insight on the subject of the ark according to a lecture that I recently heard. Before we begin, I'd like to give a disclaimer to set aside any preconcieved ideas of nature, science, the laws of physics, history, etc. The reason for this is that in order to learn something properly, one needs to start with a clean slate. Much, if not all of what I'm about to say doesn't make sense and is seemingly impossible according to our established understandings, so in order to really get at what's being said, we need to be able to see past biases and to the core of the matter.
So most of us probably know the story of the flood: G-d saw that the world had become degenerate and immoral, that humanity had sunk to an incredibly low level and as a result, He (G-d) decided to destroy the world and start a new. There was, however, one person (Noah) who was considered righteous in that generation. G-d assigned him with the task of building an ark with which to preserve all life (animals two by two) during the flood so as to rebuild the post-flood world. Now if we understand the flood in the simple understanding, then the entire world was covered with water. However, with an interpretation through the lens of chassidus (a Jewish mystical philosophy) we can uncover much more about the flood, the nature of the ark, and ther ark's purpose during this turbulent time.
First the flood: It says in the Talmud (collection of Jewish rabbinic literature, law, philosophy, etc.) that "The Holy One, Blessed be He, said to Noah: 'fix precious stones and pearls so they will light up the Ark like noon!'" (Sanhedrin 208b). To compliment this, it is said somewhere else (sorry that I forgot) that during the flood, there was such utter chaos that the sun, moon, and stars stopped doing their job. So where did they go? Why, into the precious stones and pearls that illuminated the ark of course! (Side note: like I said at the beginning, try to suspend what you know and try to understand both a conceptual, as well as physical component to what was just said) Not only did the sun, moon, and stars stop working, but time stopped working as a result of this since there was no way to measure time. Infact, outside of the ark, all that really existed was water and fish (why the fish is a completely different story, I'd like to focus on the water). It says right towards the beginning of the Torah in Bereshis 1:2 "The earth was unformed and desolate, and darkness covered the surface of the abyss. The breath of G-d hovered above the surface of the water." What we can learn from these two ideas, that outside of the ark during the majority of the flood there was only water (no land) and that there was formless land and water at the beginning of creation, is that G-d had literally undone all of creation: there was no time, space, life, mass, etc.
Everything existed only within the ark much like a womb sustaining life. The Lubavitcher Rebbe (R'Menachem Mendel Schneerson) gave an analogy of a teacher and a student to help us understand the idea of the pre-flood world and the post-flood world. Before the flood, the relationship between G-d and the world was like a teacher who teaches and the student that has no ability to function on his own outside of the relationship. After the flood, the relationship changed because now the student could attain knowledge, could learn and absorb new things, with the ability to function on his own. What does this mean? Before the flood, the laws of nature were eratic; it was completely unstable. After the flood, G-d placed permanent laws of nature into place, the world could seemingly work on its own, as it says in the verse "All the days of the Earth, the planting and the harvest, the cold and the heat, the summer and the winter, day and night, they shall not cease." (Bereshis 8:21) What was the sign for this: the rainbow. What is a rainbow? When the sun's rays shine through the atmosphere and rain droplets to reveal the beautiful colors hidden within the light. Seemingly, before the flood there was no rainbow; the colors hidden in the light weren't revealed. But now because of covenant between G-d and Noah, there was the ability to reveal what was hidden before. On a physical level, since there were laws of nature, there could be science; we can test the laws of nature to reveal just exactly what the laws are, their parameters, what they entail, etc. To understand the more spiritual level, we must look at one final analysis of what life was like iniside the ark.
One of the most famous messianic prophecies is the one about the wolf lying down with the lamb, the idea of there being such peace that the predator and prey will get along. According to the Talmud it says "There are those who explain that in Moshiach's (Messianic) era, the nature of the wild animals and beast will change and will return to what was...in Noach's ark." What can we learn from this? That not only did all of the animals (herbivores, carnivores, and omnivores alike) get along, but that within the Ark, it was like a taste of Moshiach, a time when "the Earth will be full of knowledge of G-d, like water covers the sea." (Isaiah 11:9) Since we can understand the ark to be like a womb, an incredible parallel can be drawn between this section of Talmud and another section of Talmud. It says that when a baby is in the womb, "he is taught the entire Torah. However, as soon as he enters the air of this world, an angel comes and strikes him on his mouth, causing him to forget the entire Torah." (Niddah 20b) With a direct comparison, we can now understand that within the ark we were fully experiencing the reality of what Moshiach was, but as soon as we left the ark we completely forgot it!
How does this tie into the idea of the rainbow and revealing the hidden? We know that Noah and company were in the ark for a full year. We also know that the ark is likened to a womb and that, from a comparison to Niddah 20b, the time spent in the ark could be likened to a 12 month pregnancy. We also know (or at least you will know) that Elijah the prophet is the only character in the entire Bible to have had a 12 month pregnancy, meaning that his physicality had been extraordinarly refined, which allowed him to refine physicality during his life and to accend the Heaven in a physical body. With all of this information, we can now understand the connection: that in the post-flood world, the very nature of our existence is to reveal what is hidden in the world, to reveal what we knew and then forgot, the reality of Moshiach. How do we go about doing this? By refining the physical, by utilizing this world to reveal the G-dliness inherent within. It is only once we've accomplished this fully that we will truly be able to say that "the Earth will be full of knowledge of G-d, like water covers the sea." May we see it speedily in our days.
With all of my love,
Zach
So most of us probably know the story of the flood: G-d saw that the world had become degenerate and immoral, that humanity had sunk to an incredibly low level and as a result, He (G-d) decided to destroy the world and start a new. There was, however, one person (Noah) who was considered righteous in that generation. G-d assigned him with the task of building an ark with which to preserve all life (animals two by two) during the flood so as to rebuild the post-flood world. Now if we understand the flood in the simple understanding, then the entire world was covered with water. However, with an interpretation through the lens of chassidus (a Jewish mystical philosophy) we can uncover much more about the flood, the nature of the ark, and ther ark's purpose during this turbulent time.
First the flood: It says in the Talmud (collection of Jewish rabbinic literature, law, philosophy, etc.) that "The Holy One, Blessed be He, said to Noah: 'fix precious stones and pearls so they will light up the Ark like noon!'" (Sanhedrin 208b). To compliment this, it is said somewhere else (sorry that I forgot) that during the flood, there was such utter chaos that the sun, moon, and stars stopped doing their job. So where did they go? Why, into the precious stones and pearls that illuminated the ark of course! (Side note: like I said at the beginning, try to suspend what you know and try to understand both a conceptual, as well as physical component to what was just said) Not only did the sun, moon, and stars stop working, but time stopped working as a result of this since there was no way to measure time. Infact, outside of the ark, all that really existed was water and fish (why the fish is a completely different story, I'd like to focus on the water). It says right towards the beginning of the Torah in Bereshis 1:2 "The earth was unformed and desolate, and darkness covered the surface of the abyss. The breath of G-d hovered above the surface of the water." What we can learn from these two ideas, that outside of the ark during the majority of the flood there was only water (no land) and that there was formless land and water at the beginning of creation, is that G-d had literally undone all of creation: there was no time, space, life, mass, etc.
Everything existed only within the ark much like a womb sustaining life. The Lubavitcher Rebbe (R'Menachem Mendel Schneerson) gave an analogy of a teacher and a student to help us understand the idea of the pre-flood world and the post-flood world. Before the flood, the relationship between G-d and the world was like a teacher who teaches and the student that has no ability to function on his own outside of the relationship. After the flood, the relationship changed because now the student could attain knowledge, could learn and absorb new things, with the ability to function on his own. What does this mean? Before the flood, the laws of nature were eratic; it was completely unstable. After the flood, G-d placed permanent laws of nature into place, the world could seemingly work on its own, as it says in the verse "All the days of the Earth, the planting and the harvest, the cold and the heat, the summer and the winter, day and night, they shall not cease." (Bereshis 8:21) What was the sign for this: the rainbow. What is a rainbow? When the sun's rays shine through the atmosphere and rain droplets to reveal the beautiful colors hidden within the light. Seemingly, before the flood there was no rainbow; the colors hidden in the light weren't revealed. But now because of covenant between G-d and Noah, there was the ability to reveal what was hidden before. On a physical level, since there were laws of nature, there could be science; we can test the laws of nature to reveal just exactly what the laws are, their parameters, what they entail, etc. To understand the more spiritual level, we must look at one final analysis of what life was like iniside the ark.
One of the most famous messianic prophecies is the one about the wolf lying down with the lamb, the idea of there being such peace that the predator and prey will get along. According to the Talmud it says "There are those who explain that in Moshiach's (Messianic) era, the nature of the wild animals and beast will change and will return to what was...in Noach's ark." What can we learn from this? That not only did all of the animals (herbivores, carnivores, and omnivores alike) get along, but that within the Ark, it was like a taste of Moshiach, a time when "the Earth will be full of knowledge of G-d, like water covers the sea." (Isaiah 11:9) Since we can understand the ark to be like a womb, an incredible parallel can be drawn between this section of Talmud and another section of Talmud. It says that when a baby is in the womb, "he is taught the entire Torah. However, as soon as he enters the air of this world, an angel comes and strikes him on his mouth, causing him to forget the entire Torah." (Niddah 20b) With a direct comparison, we can now understand that within the ark we were fully experiencing the reality of what Moshiach was, but as soon as we left the ark we completely forgot it!
How does this tie into the idea of the rainbow and revealing the hidden? We know that Noah and company were in the ark for a full year. We also know that the ark is likened to a womb and that, from a comparison to Niddah 20b, the time spent in the ark could be likened to a 12 month pregnancy. We also know (or at least you will know) that Elijah the prophet is the only character in the entire Bible to have had a 12 month pregnancy, meaning that his physicality had been extraordinarly refined, which allowed him to refine physicality during his life and to accend the Heaven in a physical body. With all of this information, we can now understand the connection: that in the post-flood world, the very nature of our existence is to reveal what is hidden in the world, to reveal what we knew and then forgot, the reality of Moshiach. How do we go about doing this? By refining the physical, by utilizing this world to reveal the G-dliness inherent within. It is only once we've accomplished this fully that we will truly be able to say that "the Earth will be full of knowledge of G-d, like water covers the sea." May we see it speedily in our days.
With all of my love,
Zach
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