SOLITUDE

THE END OF PROPHECY

2010-02-16T08:53:00.002-05:00

From Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, “Meditation and the Bible” (Samuel Weiser or Jason Aronson edition), Chapter 8, “The Link,” pp. 93-94.

The End of Prophecy

[M]editation played a key role in the careers of the prophets, and was an indispensible element in attaining prophetic enlightenment. With the destruction of Solomon’s Temple and the Babylonian Exile, however, the prophetic schools lost their influence, and prophecy virtually vanished from the scene.

A number of reasons are given for this. One is that it is well established that true prophecy can only take place in the Holy Land. While the more general enlightenment of Ruach HaKodesh can be attained anywhere, actual prophecy, where a distinct message can be discerned, requires special conditions (Mekhilta on Exodus 12:1; Sifri on Deuteronomy 18:15, et al.). Since the majority did not return to the Holy Land after the Babylonian Exile, prophecy, in its formal sense, no longer could be attained (Yoma 9b; Kuzari 2:24).

Although the prophetic schools never admitted initiates indiscriminately, after the exile they actually became secret societies. The leaders had seen that the open quest for prophecy and the mystical experience had led many people to engage in idolatry and sorcery. In a large measure, it was this that led to the exile, and the leadership was determined that this would not recur. They therefore “nullified the lust for idolatry,” restricting all mystical teachings to very limited schools, consisting only of the most spiritually advanced individuals (Yoma 69b; Sanhedrin 64a).

The entire focus of Judaism was thus altered. Where the quest for prophecy and mystical enlightenment had played a key role in the general life of the populace, it was now regulated to the background. The focus shifted, and now the Oral Law, with all its intricacies, became the focus of national life, reaching its zenith with the compilation of the Talmud. The mystical activity that existed remained the domain of a few small restricted secret societies. The general rule was: “One may not teach the secrets to two people at a time. One may not teach the mysteries of the Chariot (Merkava) even to one, unless he is so wise that he can understand by himself” (Chagigah 11b).

An important ramification of this was found in the area of prayer. During the time of the prophets, there was no real formal worship service, and each person would pray in his own words. If a special prayer was needed to channel a particular level of spiritual energy, such a service could be led by one of the prophets or their disciples, who knew how to word the prayer to channel the required forces. It is for this reason that a prayer leader is called a Chazan, from the same root as Chazon, meaning a prophetic vision (Likkutei Moharan I, 3).

When prophecy ceased, however, this was no longer possible. A formal system of worship, including all of its mystical elements, had to be formulated. This was done by the Great Assembly, under the leader of Ezra, shortly after the return from the Babylonian Exile. It is significant to note that a number of the last prophets took part in compiling these prayers.

Many of the prophetic traditions were transmitted to the sages of the Talmud and beyond. An excellent account of this is provided by Rabbi Chaim Vital in his introduction to the Gates of Holiness (Sha’arey Kedushah).

THE MYSTIC PATH

2010-02-16T06:27:00.000-05:00

From Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, “Meditation and the Bible” (Samuel Weiser or Jason Aronson edition), pp. 94-96; excerpt from Rabbi Chaim Vital, “THE GATES OF HOLINESS” (Sha’arey Kedushah), Author’s Introduction. (Footnotes have been omitted or restored to the text.)

The Mystic Path

“I have seen men of elevation and they are few" (Talmud: Sukkah 45b). Certain individuals yearn to ascend, but the ladder is hidden from their eyes. They contemplate the earlier books, seeking to find the path of life, the way they must go and the deeds they must do in order to elevate their souls to their highest Root, to bind themselves to God. This alone is the eternal perfection.

This was the way of the prophets. All their days they would bind themselves to their Creator. As a result of this attachment, Ruach HaKodesh (the Divine spirit) would descend on them, teaching them the path leading to the Light. This would then open their eyes to the mysteries of the Torah, this being the subject of King David's prayer, “Open my eyes, and let me gaze at the wonders of Your Torah” (Psalms 119:18). They would be led along a straight path, prepared by the “men of elevation,” so that they should reach their goal.

After the prophets came the Early Saints (Chasidim Rishonim; see Talmud: Berakhot 30b, et al.), who were also called the Pharasees (Secluded Ones) (Talmud: Chagigah 18b, et al.) They sought to follow the ways of the prophets and to imitate their methods.

These individuals would travel to rocky caves and deserts, secluded from the affairs of society. Some would seclude themselves in their homes, as isolated as those who went into the deserts.

Day and night, they would continuously praise their Creator, repeating the words of the Torah, and chanting the Psalms, which gladden the heart. They would continue in this manner until their minds were strongly bound to the Supernal Lights with powerful yearning. All their days they would do this consistently until they reached the level of Ruach HaKodesh, “prophesying and not stopping” (Numbers 11:25).

Even though these individuals were on a much lower level than the prophets, we are still ignorant of their ways and methods. We do not know how these holy men served God so that we should be able to emulate them.

In the generations following these individuals, people's hearts became smaller and understanding was reduced. Masters of Ruach HaKodesh went to their final rest and ceased to exist among us. They left us bereft, hungering and thirsting, until hopelessness grew in the hearts of men and they ceased to seek out this wondrous discipline. All that were left were “two or three berries on the uppermost branch” (Isaiah 17:6), “one in a city, and two in a family”(Jeremiah 3:14). “They seek water and there is none”(Isaiah 41:17), “for every vision has been sealed off” (Daniel 9:24). All this is because there was no book teaching the method of how to come close and approach the innermost sanctuary.

Some bound angels with oaths, making use of Divine Names. They sought light, but found darkness. The angels with which they communicated were very low angels, overseers of the physical world, who combined good and evil. These angels themselves could not perceive the Truth and the Highest Lights. They therefore revealed mixed concepts, consisting of good and evil, truth and falsehood, as well as useless ideas involving medicine, alchemy, and the use of amulets and incantations (see Sefer Chasidim 205, 206).

These too “erred with wine and were confused with strong drink” (Isaiah 28:7). What they should have done was spend their time studying the Torah and its commandments. They should have learned a lesson from the four spiritual giants who entered into the Mysteries (Pardes), where none escaped whole other than the pious elder, Rabbi Akiba (Talmud: Chagigah 14b). The angels even wanted to strike him down, but God helped him, and “he entered in peace and left in peace” (ibid. 15b).

These individuals sought very high levels, close to actual prophecy, and it was for this reason that they were injured. But even we, today, can be worthy of the lower levels of Ruach HaKodesh. This can be through the revelation of Elijah, to which many were worthy, as is well known. It can also consist of revelation of the souls of saints (Tzaddikim), which is mentioned many times in the Zohar. Even in our own times, I have seen holy men attaining this.

There are also cases where a person's own soul becomes highly purified and is revealed to him, leading him in all his ways. All these are ways of approaching God, and they can be attained even today by those who are worthy. But this requires much discipline and many temptations before one arrives at the Truth. If one is not sufficiently prepared, another, unclean, spirit may enter him...

I am therefore writing a book in which I will explain these mysteries . . . as I learned them from the lips of the saintly Rabbi Isaac Luria (also known as the Arizal). Since these involve the deepest secrets and most hidden mysteries, for every handbreadth that I reveal, I will hide a mile. With great difficulty, I will open the gates of holiness, making an opening like the eye of a needle, and let him who is worthy pass through it to enter the innermost chamber. God is good and He will not withhold this benefit from those who walk in righteousness.

COMBINING MEDITATION AND PRAYER

2010-02-12T13:17:00.001-05:00

Translated by Dovid Sears

Rabbi Elimelekh of Lizhensk, No'am Elimelekh (Likkutei Shoshanim, 105b)

"Fortunate are those who dwell in your house..." (Psalms 84:5). "Fortunate is the people unto whom are such [blessings]" (ibid. 144:15). [The latter verse could also be translated homiletically as: "Fortunate is the people that calms down / subsides unto Him" -- but I'm not sure if this reflects the author's intention. DS]

It seems to me that concerning the Gemara's remark: "The early Chasidim (pietists) used to meditate for one hour [before prayer]..." (Berakhos 4b), their intent was to purify and clear their minds in order to bind themselves to the higher worlds (cf. Noam Elimelekh, Korach, 79d) -- to a degree that approached transcendence of the physical, as mentioned in the Shulchan Arukh (Hilkhos Tefillah, 98).

However, afterward during prayer, the holy speech of their prayer automatically became garbed in their prior [exalted] state of consciousness. This is the meaning of the Gemara's [teaching], "God combines a good thought with action" (Kiddushin 40a). That is, the "good speech" of prayer is considered action when compared to thought.

During prayer, they also would contemplate the supernal worlds and cleave there, as if they no longer existed in this world. Thus, [the verse] is self-understood: "Fortunate are those who dwell in Your house" -- meaning, who dwell in the higher worlds -- "they will praise you all the more, sela" (ad loc.), that is, even while engaged in their prayers.

"Fortunate is the people unto whom are such [blessings]..." For the Holy One, blessed be He, endowed the righteous with the power to cancel Heaven's decrees and to mitigate harsh judgments [by virtue of their spiritual ascents during prayer].

THE WINGS OF PRAYER

2010-02-11T20:52:00.002-05:00

From Rabbi Perets Auerbach’s “The Science, Art and Heart of Hitbodedut.” This work-in-progress may be purchased by contacting the author by email: peretsz@gmail.com. We thank Rabbi Auerbach for permitting us to present excerpts from his writings here. All notes were omitted for this online version, except one explanation that was too important to leave out.

Although this excerpt begins by discussing prayer in general, it is especially relevant to Rabbi Nachman’s practice of hitbodedut.

The Wings of Prayer

“Take these broken wings and learn to fly again.” The Zohar teaches that love and fear are the two wings with which tefilah and all mitzvot can soar above. The soul sitting in rapture, in love and fear of God, is lifted out of her limitations to fly to supernal realms.

“And in order to tell of My praise throughout the whole world” (Exodus 9:16). The whole world was made to thank and praise God. “Give thanks to God for He is good—for His lovingkindness is forever” (Psalms 136:1, et al.). Psalm 136 counts off thirty-two blessings/salvations/miracles to give thanks for. It is not enough to appreciate in a general way all the great things that happened so that we have made it to this moment; it is necessary to give thanks for each step by itself.

Moreover, it is necessary to appreciate that each step is a complete deliverance unto itself. “If He took us out of Egypt, but did not split for us the sea—dayenu, it would be enough. If He split for us the sea but did not give us the Shabbat—dayenu, it would be enough. If he had given us the Shabbat but did not give us the Torah—dayenu, it would be enough...” We might wonder: The Midrash states that the world was created for the sake of the Torah (Bereishit Rabbah 1,6; 12,2; et al.). How could it have been considered “enough” if the Jewish people had not received it? Nonetheless, the Haggadah teaches us that even if (for whatever reason) things had been left lacking in the overall picture, each rung of goodness is so precious that the whole world was worth creating just to reach it!

Each person should make his own set of “for His lovingkindness is forever's and “it would be enough”s. Go through your life and count your blessings in detail before God. Appreciate how each stage is an eternal goodness unto itself.

Giving thanks is the main thing that we will do in the world-to-come (Likkutei Moharan II, 5; cf. Osiyot de-Rabbi Akiva). The Gemara teaches that the Shemoneh Esreh, the highest formal prayer, begins with praise. Then come requests, and then the conclusion is again with praise (Berakhot 34a). This comes to teach a prayer principle that in general should always be utilized: one should begin the hitbodedut session by counting his blessings—very specifically. Thank God for the air, the water, the meals that you eat. Don’t forget the roof over your head, your bed, pillow, and blanket. These are types of things that hopefully a person has on a regular basis—but just because they are constant, they should not be taken for granted. Then there are every day particular yeshu’ot (salvations) that every person has, which also should not be taken for granted. To express appreciation and gratitude before God for them is most important. Not because God needs to hear it—we need to say it. “Who is the sage that will guard these [ideas—to always give thanks] and who will think deeply into the loving-kindnesses of God” (Psalms 107:43).

This touches upon the essence of prayer. Tefilah means connection, as in “naftulai niftalti [I was connected, certainly connected] with my sister...” (Genesis 30:8) (see Likkutei Moharan II, 84, and end note below). The point of praying is not to be answered. The point is to plug into God. This itself is the real answer to everything and anything, the main “savior of all saviors.” When someone recognizes that God is the Source of All, and not only that individual, but the entire universe is constantly dependent upon Him—this awareness itself is one major step of liberation.

This idea underlies Rabbi Nachman’s teaching (ibid.) that tefilah depends upon yirah (fear); as it is written, “A woman who fears God—she shall praise” (Proverbs 31:30). The Maharal (Netivot Olam) tells us that the essence of yirah is for the effect to know that it comes from its cause: to look at oneself and all of existence and to acknowledge that the whole thing comes from the “Cause of All Causes.” This yirah is the foundation of being able to get up and praise and pray to the Source of All. This links with the idea that yirah is a motion in the soul of constriction, contraction, and nullification. The yeshut (‘somethingness’) of the nefesh ha-behamit (animalistic soul) and the world at large separate the self from God-awareness. Yirah comes and cuts through the “somethingness,” removes blocks, silences the static—affording the nefesh Elokit (Divine soul) the opportunity to connect above, unhindered. In simple terms, the “chattering monkey”/internal dialogue/ego divert the self, and keep it preoccupied and in a drunken stupor, which separates it from its Creator. Yirah comes to the rescue and save us from all this.

This is why it is necessary to precede the speech part of hitbodedut with meditation (Sichot HaRan 232). “A woman who fears God [first—then she is ready] to praise” (Proverbs 31:30). A simple contemplation of the existence of God, being in His Presence and realizing that all comes from Him, opens the heart to be able to express thanks and ask about all the necessary details. The more true awareness one has that God is the Source, Provider, and Giver of all, the deeper the effect the ensuing engagement in tefilah will have. “You prepare their heart [to pray]—Your ears [then] hear” (Psalms 10:17). The effort to get ready before tefilah draws Divine assistance.

Coming into hitbodedut from this awareness saves from what the Gemara calls “heartache”–“iyyun tefilah” (Shabbat 127a). Iyyun tefilah means constantly waiting to be answered, looking for concrete results of one’s prayer, and openly revealed deliverance from one’s troubles. However, the test of this world requires that there always be free will. This means that, to varying degrees, there is always a cloak over what is really going on. One of the main ways that this takes shape is that prayer does not always seem to be answered, or even heard. In general, Rabbi Nachman warns against being stubborn (Likkutei Moharan I, 196). The main thing is always to present one’s requests with the honor of God in mind. But when it comes to prayer, one must be stubborn in the sense of not giving up. As Rabbi Nachman says, it may seem as though heaven is not paying any attention to you. They may seem to be pushing you away. Therefore, you must argue with God that it is fitting for Him to bring you close to Him, even to the extent of respectfully complaining about this. You may try to serve God in truth for years, without seeing any improvement. Nevertheless, you have to do your part and continually pray, supplicate and beg to come close to Him (ibid. II, 48).

Note:

“Naftulai niftalti…” (Genesis 30:8). This verse speaks of the holy jealousy that Rachel had of her sister Leah, because Leah had children, which Rachel had not yet merited. Rachel is Malkhut/Kingship, the lower realm; Leah is Binah/Understanding, the upper realm (Zohar I, Vayeitzei). The lower world is jealous of the superior connection, illumination, and results that the upper realm seems to have over it. Yet we find “And Ya’akov loved Rachel” (Genesis 29:18). “Rachel [mentioned first] and Leah, that they both built the house of Israel” (Ruth 4:11). The verse speaks of “the children of Rachel, the wife of Ya’akov” (Genesis 46:19), whereas of Leah it just says, “These are the children of Leah” (ibid. 46:15). This reflects the principle that “the Holy One blessed be He wanted a dwelling in the lower realms” (Tanchumah, Naso 7:1). The main concern is to bring the light, revelation, and shefa (flow) to the lower realm. On the surface, it would seem that Leah is higher because she comes from a higher source. But the tikkun of Rachel is, in general, more important for us to focus on, because the whole point of creation is to elevate what is low. So one must seek in hitbodedut to attain the highest levels. But one must be happy with the simple delight of relating to God, even about asking Him to have a button sown on one’s coat. The Rachel/Leah themes are united when a person prays for simple things from an expanded state of consciousness—and when one understands the Divinity enclothed in the world all around.

MEDITATION AND RU’ACH HAKODESH

2010-02-11T20:47:00.003-05:00

The following meditation is from eighteenth century kabbalist Rabbi Pinchas Eliyahu Horowitz of Vilna’s Sefer HaBris (Book of the Covenant), Part II, Ma’amar 11. This encyclopedic work is an expansion of Rabbi Chaim Vital’s classic Sha’arey Kedushah (Gates of Holiness), the third gate of which concludes with a similar meditation (posted elsewhere on this website). However, Rabbi Horowitz’s version provides more detail and thus is more practical, although it presupposes a good deal of kabbalistic knowledge— which he provides throughout Part II of his book. “Ru’ach HaKodesh,” literally, the “holy spirit,” is sometimes described as the lowest level of prophecy and represents a degree of enlightenment. As Rabbi Horowitz cautions, its attainment requires much spiritual preparation.

Meditation and Ru’ach HaKodesh

Translated by Dovid Sears

In section 6, the author lists the preparations one must make before embarking on this meditation. These include teshuvah, i.e., repentance for one’s sins and whole-hearted return to G-d; guarding one’s eyes from improper gazing; carefully fulfilling the laws of the Torah; reciting all daily blessings with mental focus, and not merely by force of habit; studying the Torah for the sake of G-d alone, and not for personal gain; arising at midnight to mourn the destruction of the Holy Temple and to pray for the immediate rebuilding of Jerusalem (tikkun chatzos); limiting indulgence in physical pleasures; and especially purging oneself of all evil character traits. In addition, he mentions the importance of immersing in the mikveh (pool or ritual bath) when necessary (such as after marital relations); regularly practicing hisbodedus (secluded meditation and prayer); mentally visualizing the Divine Name YHVH constantly, so that one will be G-d-fearing, and one’s deeds will be for the sake of heaven; and cleaving to G-d in one’s thoughts with great love—in the knowledge that G-d is the source of all goodness that one may experience in the world and in the World to Come. In a word, the practice described below is only meant for someone who “lives the life,” and is not for dabblers. (So if you’re not up to it, hold off until you’re ready.)

The meditation itself is described in section 7. We have added our own commentary to explain some of the author’s terms.

Sefer HaBris: One should confess, and then immerse [in a mikveh]. After this, he should seclude himself in a room where he will not hear even the sound of birds chirping, and all the more so human voices, so that he will not be distracted. If it is possible to do so after midnight, even better. One should light many candles; and if [he wishes to meditate] by day, the best time is before noon, while garbed in talis (prayer shawl) and tefillin (phylacteries). One should close his eyes and remove his thoughts from all mundane matters, as if he no longer existed in this world. Afterwards, he should begin to sing praises to G-d from the praises of David [i.e., Book of Psalms] with great fervor. Then he should contemplate the supernal worlds, the hidden lofty levels, from below to above, and picture the upper worlds in his imagination; he should begin to imagine that his higher soul is ascending higher and higher according to its soul-roots in the Adam de-Nishamos of the heavens of the World of Asiyah/Action.

Commentary: Confession of sins and immersion in a mikvah are both necessary preconditions for performing this meditation in a state of purity. Otherwise, the entire endeavor would be like pouring vintage wine into an unclean cup.

In Sefer HaBris, Part II, Maamar 8, section 1, Rabbi Horowitz defines “Adam de-Nishamos” (literally, the “Man of Souls”) as the collectivity of each of the five components of the individual soul (called nefesh, ru’ach, neshamah, chayah, yechidah) on each of the “Four Worlds,” plus the fifth and transcendent level of Adam Kadmon/Primordial Man. Based on Ezekiel’s vision of the Merkava (“Divine Chariot”), the kabbalists speak of four “worlds,” or levels of reality: Asiyah/Action. Yetzirah/Formation, and Beriah/Creation, in ascending order; the fourth and highest world is that of Atzilus/Emanation, in which “lights and vessels are one.” Thus, Atzilus is described as the “world of unity.” Each world is made up of ten sefiros, which form an integral whole, and each is the source or root of one of the components of the soul. The term “Adam” as related to each of the three lower worlds appears in the Tikkuney Zohar, Tikkun 19 and Tikkun 69. (This is probably the symbolic meaning of the three giants carrying a tree that the Viceroy encounters in the desert in Rabbi Nachman’s tale, “The Lost Princess.”) “Adam de-Nishamos of the heavens of the World of Asiyah/Action” represents the collective root of the lowest level of the soul, which is called “nefesh.”

The author of Sefer HaBris specifies the “heavens of Asiyah,” because Asiyah subsumes the entire physical universe, but more essentially it is the spiritual corollary of the physical universe we inhabit. This spiritual aspect of Asiyah is its “heavenly” dimension.

The term “soul roots (shorshey neshamos)” reflects the kabbalistic principle that each level of reality, or “world,” derives from the level above it in the seder ha-histalshelus, the process of causation through which all things come into existence in an orderly process of devolution from unity to multiplicity and incorporeality to corporeality.

The reader should note that although he is instructed to “picture the upper worlds in his imagination,” no such description is given. Since the upper worlds don’t resemble what we are used to seeing, it doesn’t matter how one chooses to visualize them. When the shefa eloki (divine influx) rests upon the meditator, these images will cease.

Sefer HaBris: That is, at first one should envision himself reaching the root of his soul in the Malkhus/Kingship of the Adam de-Nishamos of the heavens of Asiyah/Action. He should intend to cleave to the sefirah of Malkhus of the Adam de-Nishamos of the heavens of Asiyah, and intend to combine the sefirah of Malkhus of the Adam de-Nishamos with all other sefiros in the “Adam de-Sefiros” [i.e., the total structure of the sefiros on that plane], mentally combining the Divine Names YHVH and ADNY. [The unification of these Names corresponds to the unification of sefiros that the meditator wishes to accomplish.]

Commentary: The Name YHVH (Hebrew: yud-heh-vav-heh) is associated with the six sefiros of Chesed/Kindness through Yesod/Foundation and represents the masculine principle, while the Name ADNY (Hebrew: alef-dalet-nun-yud) is associated with Malkhus/Kingship and represents the feminine principle. Their unification brings harmony to each “world” in question.

The terms Adam de-Sefiros and Adam de-Nishamos both correspond primarily to the World of Asiyah/Action; while in the next passage, “Adam de-Malakhim” corresponds primarily to the World of Yetzirah/Formation; and Adam of the Quarry of Husks corresponds primarily to the World of Beriah/Creation. (There are no klippos/husks in Atzilus, the “world of unity.”) However, just as there are three general worlds of Asiyah, Yetzirah, and Beriah, so each world is subdivided into Asiyah-of-Asiyah, Yetzirah-of-Asiyah, and Beriah-of-Asiyah, etc. Accordingly, the various “Adams” correspond to each of these sub-categories in ascending order: e.g., there is also an Adam de-Nishamos on the level of Yetzirah and an Adam de-Nishamos on the level of Beriah/Creation, as well. Thus, the various “Adams” exist in each of the worlds.

It is interesting that although this meditation primarily reflects the kabbalah of the ARI, the terminology of the various “Adams” is more common in the works of the early kabbalists, who lived prior to the ARI.

Sefer HaBris: After this, he should intend to merge the entire Adam de-Sefiros into the Infinite One [which animates the sefiros from] within, again combining the Divine Names YHVH and ADNY. Then, he should intend to draw forth great illumination from the Infinite One to the sefirah of Malkhus of the Adam de-Sefiros, and from thence to the sefirah of Malkhus of the Adam de-Nishamos; from thence to the sefiros of the Adam de-Malakhim [i.e., the domain of the angels]; from thence to the “Adam of the Quarry of Husks”; and from thence to the Firmaments (Rekiyim) themselves. And he, too, should intend to receive his portion, last of all.

Commentary: “Adam of the Quarry of Husks” indicates the point of origin of the klippos (“husks” or “shells”). These are the forces that conceal Divinity and lead to the emergence of evil in creation. The klippos originate in the World of Beriah/Creation, which is where separateness and multiplicity first become manifest, however subtly. (This is also the “world” in which Sheviras HaKeilim, the “Shattering of the Vessels” at the beginning of creation, took place, as described in the Eitz Chayyim of the ARI.) The “firmaments” allude to the highest World of Atzilus/Emanation, which transcends all division, and the ineffable realms above Atzilus, which are are termed tzachtzachos (“pure lights”). The meditator has the kavannah (intention) of receiving his portion last, so that his entire spiritual undertaking remains altruistic, free of craving after personal gain.

Sefer HaBris: After all this, he should meditate in the same way upon the sefirah of Yesod/Foundation of the Adam de-Nishamos [and visualize the entire process of ascent]. Then he should meditate similarly upon the sefirah of Hod/Splendor of the Adam de-Nishamos of the heavens of Asiyah/Action; and so on, until he meditates upon the sefirah of Keser/Crown. He should perform the unification of YHVH and ADNY, and pray that the sefiros combine with one another and be illuminated in unity by the Infinite Light that inheres within them, with an abundant influx (shefa rav). And from thence the shefa should be transmitted to the Adam de-Nishamos of the heavens of Asiyah/Action. And through the roots of [the meditator’s] soul there, shefa should be drawn forth to the Adam de-Malakhim beyond, and from thence to the Adam de-Klippos beyond, and from thence to the Firmaments themselves; and he should receive his portion last of all.

Commentary: Thus, he will have visualized this process of unification as it relates to each of the ten sefiros of Adam de-Nishamos of the World of Asiyah in ascending order. Keser/Crown is the highest sefirah in the array of each set of ten sefiros, transcending the rest. Thus it is identical with Malkhus/ Kingship, the lowest of the ten sefiros of the next level in the cosmic chain.

Sefer HaBris: In this manner, he should concentrate on the roots of his soul in Yetzirah/Formation and in Beriah/Creation. However, upon encountering the Quarry of the Husks in each world, he should contemplate [this realm] swiftly, so that he passes through it right away. In all of these things, he should intend that with his descent from one level to the next, everything reflects the unification of YHVH and ADNY—for this is a true and universal unification. Even though the particular unifications and efficacious prayers relative to each individual place are unknown to us, nevertheless, “the Merciful One desires the heart” (Sanhedrin 106b). After one’s decent, he should contemplate that the divine influx (shefa ha-eloki) has reached his faculty of imagination, and he should visualize the spirit of God resting upon him; and it should rest upon him for however long, until the time comes for His word [i.e., spontaneous, divinely-inspired speech].

Conclusion: The chapter concludes by saying that if this meditation has no effect, one must assume that he is unworthy and return to his spiritual preparations until he feels ready to attempt another ascent. At first, one must question any illuminations he receives, in case they come from the Sitra Achara (“Other Side”)—or they may come from the side of holiness, but are a mixture of truth and falsehood. This is surely the case if any such illuminations contradict the Torah, whether the Written Law or the Oral Law. The author also states that typically one will receive insights of a trivial nature until he becomes more adept at this form of meditation. Then he may achieve states close to prophecy, particularly if he is fortunate enough to live in Eretz Yisrael. In all this, Rabbi Horowitz seems to be speaking from personal experience.

GERUSHIN: DIVORCE FROM THE WORLD

2010-02-07T19:20:00.002-05:00

Judaism is overwhelmingly a world-affirming religion, even in its mystical dimension. However, as this excerpt from an academic survey of the Kabbalah shows, there is a place for renouncing the world in Jewish tradition, too—in the mystic’s quest for knowledge and in order to bring about various tikkunim (spiritual reparations).

From Moshe Hallamish, “An Introduction to the Kabbalah,” State University of New York (SUNY) Press, 1999 (trans. Ruth Bar-Ilan), Chapter 6, pp. 84-85.

Gerushin: Divorce From the World

Another technique that is partly connected with graves is known as gerushin (wanderings in exile). This practice branches out into several intertwined offshoots. One is that the Kabbalist detaches himself from his family for a certain period of time and goes out to nature. The narrative episodes in the Zohar therefore often take place in nonpopulated areas. R. Elijah de-Vidas (Introduction to Reshit Hokhmah) . . . and many others attest to the practice among their contemporaries. There is withdrawal from the world in order to ascend to the Root, and participation in the suffering of the Shekhinah, who, like the people of Israel, is in exile. The close identification with the Shekhinah helps one to attain secrets, for the Shekhinah is “the gate of heaven.”

Another offshoot is walking in the desert or visiting the graves of the zaddikim in order to establish spiritual contacts with them and achieve union with their souls. Many descriptions of this practice appear in Gerushin by R. Moses Cordovero and in Sh'ar Ru'ah ha-Kodesh by R. Hayyim Vital. It should be noted that Cordovero explicitly states in several places that the Kabbalists used to stand barefoot beside the tomb of the zaddik, as an indication of mourning for the exile of the Shekhinah and sharing her sorrows.

Still another offshoot of this practice of gerushin is related to the Rabbi Moses Cordovero and his circle. Cordovero describes “what I and others have experienced in connection with gerushin, when we wandered in the fields . . . discussing verses from the Bible suddenly, without previous reflection. On these occasions, new ideas would come to us in a manner that cannot be believed unless one has seen or experienced it many times” (Ohr Ne’erav, part 5, chap. 2).

Though the Kabbalist is willing to drop some hints about what has occurred, he insists that only the person who has either experienced it himself, or at least witnessed it “many times,” is capable of truly and thoroughly understanding it. The Kabbalist runs out to the field, where a biblical verse or a talmudic saying comes out of his mouth spontaneously, without any deliberate preparation on his part. And all of a sudden he finds himself producing a discourse that revolves around this intuitive utterance “and the words of Torah were shining in us and the words were spoken of themselves” (Sefer Gerushin, par. 4).

Here are some detailed descriptions of this striking experience:

“We were still in the study of R. Simeon bar Yohai [i.e., the structure build upon his grave site in Meron] when I concluded my exposition on the subject. Then we fell down [in prayer] in the sepulchre of Rabbi Simeon and Rabbi Eleazar, and with my lips still moving I said a short prayer from the depths of my heart. Then my master arose and expounded [several verses from Deuteronomy] in a manner different from his previous explanations, and so did some other participants. I stood up and looked. I was facing southto my right was the tombstone of R. Eleazar; to my left, that of Rabbi Simeon, of blessed memory. And I opened my discourse by explaining the verse . . . and I said . . . “ (ibid., end para. 17, beg. para. 18).

After mentioning the discourse of Rabbi Solomon ha-Levi Alkabez, which was held by the tomb of Rabbi Yehudah bar Illay, R. Cordovero adds: “And all of this was said by my teacher, for it was the gift of R. Yehudah bar Illay with whose assistance we expounded . . . and we also elaborated on this” (ibid. para 10). In other words, the spirit of the deceased assists the Kabbalists in penetrating mysteries. This is implicit in the following description: “And we, some of the companions, entered into the cave [of the tannaitic rabbis in 'Akhbara] and recited a short prayer and then we went into the field to the rock, where we expounded a scriptural verse…” (ibid., end para. 33).

By entering into the cave and praying there, they were endowed with a special power that enabled them to spontaneously produce an insightful discourse.

SEA-SHORE HISBODEDUS

2010-02-01T12:00:00.010-05:00

The Chasidic Rebbe of Pinsk-Karlin sometimes spends time in hisbodedus by the sea, meditating and reciting Tehillim. Pictures courtesy of bhol.co.il.

LETTING IN THE LIGHT

2010-01-05T14:27:00.004-05:00

This essay is an excerpt from an unpublished work tentatively entitled “The Seven Beggars’ Gifts” (previously “The Chandelier of Imperfections”—and who knows, maybe the old title will be restored if the book ever gets published). End notes have been eliminated from this online version, although source references have been restored to the text.

Letting in the Light

Based on Likkutei Moharan I, 172

By Dovid Sears

In this brief lesson, Rabbi Nachman further develops what scholars call the Baal Shem Tov’s panentheism, the belief that G-d is present within all things, despite His ultimate transcendence. And he zeros in on our most practical concern, namely how to penetrate the illusion (or at least quasi-illusion) of the world and glimpse the Divine Essence within all things. The Rebbe explains:
“Whatever one lacks, whether concerning children, livelihood, or health, everything is from the side of the person himself. For the light of God flows upon one continuously; however, through evil deeds, each person makes a shadow for himself, so that the divine light does not reach him. According to one’s actions, a shadow is cast which obstructs the light of God. The deficiency is proportionate to the deed that created the shadow.

“Now, a shadow is produced by a physical thing that stands before a spiritual entity (i.e., something of a more subtle nature)—just as a physical stick or stone placed opposite the light of the moon or sun will cast a shadow. Likewise, a solar or lunar eclipse is due to the shadow of the earth. Moreover, the sun itself is physical in relation to that which is above it, and casts a shadow against it.”

Therefore, according to one’s materialistic attachments and actions, one creates a shadow within him that prevents God’s light and bounty from reaching him. However, if a person nullifies himself and no longer exists in this world at all, he no longer casts a shadow, and receives the light of God. To continue:

“The essence of the divine light is glory; for ‘all that the Holy One, blessed be He, created, He created for His glory,’ as it is written (Isaiah 43:7): “For My glory I created it…” (Avot 6:11).

“This is the meaning of ‘The entire world is full (mi-lo kol ha’aretz) of His glory’ (Isaiah 6:3). That is, if one is ‘not of the world altogether [mi-lo kol ha’aretz, a play on words]’ and has no part in this world at all—then he receives the light of God, which is the divine glory.

“This, too, is the meaning of ‘The wise will inherit glory’ (Proverbs 3:35), for ‘wisdom comes forth from nothingness (ayin)’ (Job 28:12). Therefore, the wise, who are ‘nothing (ayin),’ are granted a perception of glory. Having overcome all materialism, they do not create an obstructing shadow.”

The concluding paragraph of Rabbi Nachman’s lesson introduces the idea that mystical perception also depends on one’s emotional state:

“When God, may He be blessed, displays a joyous face (panim), this brings life and good to the world; and the opposite is also true, God forbid. Similarly, when the tzaddik displays a joyous face, it is good; and vice-versa. This is the meaning of the verse ‘See, today I have placed before you [lifneykhem, which is related to the word panim, meaning “face”] life and good, as well as death…’ (Deuteronomy 11:26); that is, lifneykhem, according to your face.”

At a glance, this may seem to have only a tenuous connection to the previous theme. The linchpin is the Rebbe’s reference at the beginning of this teaching to both a solar and lunar eclipse and the cosmic hierarchy.

Let’s take a closer look at his words:

“Likewise, a solar or lunar eclipse is due to the shadow of the earth. Moreover, the sun itself is physical in relation to that which is above it, and casts a shadow against it.” In kabbalistic terms, the sun and moon correspond to mashpi’a, the “giver” or source of influence, and mekabel, the receiver. On the one hand, the tzaddik is like the moon, being a receiver in relation to God. On the other, he is like the sun, being a giver in relation to the world, particularly to those on lower spiritual levels. Only a perfect tzaddik can attain total bittul, absolute nullification of ego that eliminates every trace of the shadow. Thus, in order to fulfill our potential, we who occupy lower levels must receive illumination from the tzaddikim.

With his last remarks, Rabbi Nachman lets us know that this illumination is conditioned by our approach, the “face” we display. God’s “face,” or manner of revelation, depends on our “face,” meaning our spiritual state. Rebbe Nachman interprets the verse “And Hezekiah turned his face to the wall” (Isaiah 38:2) to mean that he turned his awareness within, “for one’s true ‘face’ is his state of mind” (Sichot ha-Ran 39). If we wallow in coarse materialism, we block the light. If we detach ourselves from worldly vanities and let go of our all-consuming self-interest, we immediately become receptors for Godliness—and, by implication, the light of the tzaddikim, who transmit the divine light to us, just as the sun illuminates the moon.

Elsewhere, Reb Noson adds that he heard a slightly different version of this teaching from another disciple of Rabbi Nachman. This version is even more lucid:

“You must nullify each of your negative traits until you have annihilated the ego completely, as if it were utterly non-existent.

“Begin with one negative trait and nullify it completely, until not a trace remains. Then work on your other negative traits, one at a time, until they no longer exist. As you nullify the ego, God’s glory will begin to shine through and be revealed. God’s glory is like light, as the verse states, ‘And the earth is illuminated with His glory’ (Ezekiel 43:2).”

After reiterating the analogy of the physical object placed before the sunlight that casts a shadow, this second version of the teaching concludes:

“Thus, it is written, ‘The entire world is full (mi-lo kol ha’aretz) of His glory’ (Isaiah 6:3). When there is nothing to cast a shadow and thereby obstruct the light, His glory is revealed through all the earth (Sichot ha-Ran136).”

This corresponds to the path of hitbodedut Rabbi Nachman delineates in Likkutei Moharan I, 52 (“Ha-Ne’or ba-Laylah/One Who Remains Awake At Night”). Through hitbodedut—going out alone at night to a secluded place where people do not usually go even by day, and speaking to God in one’s own words—one may systematically nullify all negative personality traits until one attains bittul, total self-effacement. The Rebbe’s descriptions of this process in both lessons are almost identical. By removing these negative traits, we remove the shadow, allowing the light of God, who is the “Imperative Existent,” to shine forth. (We should add that bittul is not to be confused with low self-esteem or self-hatred, traits that are merely the “flip side” of self-importance. We are supposed to recognize and eliminate our evil traits, but not become morbidly obsessed with ourselves in so doing. Rather, bittul denotes transcendence of the ego—seeing through the illusion of the self as something that exists apart from God.) Thus, it seems that the most basic way to put this teaching into practice is through hitbodedut.

ROOFTOP HISBODEDUS

2009-12-15T07:21:00.002-05:00

From Rabbi Perets Auerbach’s “The Science, Art and Heart of Hitbodedut.” Explanatory notes have been omitted from this online version. This work-in-progress may be purchased by contacting the author by email: peretsz@gmail.com. We thank Rabbi Auerbach for permitting us to present this and other excerpts from his writings here.

Rooftop Hisbodedus

Rabbi Nachman says, “Living in the upper storey of a house is good for serving God” (Sefer HaMidot, “Bayit,” II, 1). Maybe this relates to the idea of going outside of the city for hitbodedut. A place outside of it all allows one to come to bitul (self-nullification) more easily, so being off the ground also helps this. A plane ride, too, can be an excellent opportunity for hitbodedut. Mountains have both advantages. In order to find the Lost Princess in Rabbi Nachman’s story, the Viceroy went outside of civilization by taking a “path to the side.” The “side” can also be vertical. (The Lost Princess represents the soul’s source in the Shekhinah. As in the story, she is found through yearning for her during hitbodedut, whenever one has time.)

Looking down from a roof is a good analogy for the “makif,” or encompassing perspective of looking down on the activities of the world and seeing them as one. It can enable one to see life from this perspective. From the encompassing outlook, what seem to be separate, unrelated, diverse happenings suddenly merge into one holistic picture. Try to enumerate different occurrences, people, and loose ends of your life and pray for this head-set while practicing hitbodedut on the roof.

Every person has a “makif (surrounding) light” and a “pnimi (internal) light.” Things that are well understood are in a state of pnimi. Things that are a step beyond are makifim (Likkutei Moharan I, 22). A spiritual person is constantly seeking to learn more and bring the makifim within. There is a law that requires a fence to be built around a roof (Deuteronomy 22:8). This figuratively represents building a barrier around the mind to prevent it from reaching for makifim that are too high. Each person should only reach for the rung immediately above him. Trying for more can result in falling off the roof and dying—going “aroys funn di keilim (out of the vessels),” as the saying goes, and losing one’s mind. There are also makifim that are beyond time; all the time of this world would not be enough to explain them. They also need to be avoided (Likkutei Moharan II, 7:6, 8).

Roof-hitbodedut helps to internalize the makifim properly. They bring innovations—new ideas, outlooks, and feelings. Each makif is a fresh, never glimpsed before light.

In the Torah, the mitzvah of building a parapet or fence is juxtaposed to that of the “kan tzippor (bird’s nest)”—the law of sending away the mother bird when you want to take the chicks. The place where the Mashiach (Messiah) dwells in heaven is called the “Palace of the Kan Tzippor” (Sefer HaGilgulim, chap. 72; Arba Me’ot Shekel Kesef, 68b). This mitzvah is mentioned in the Tikkuney Zohar more than any other. It hints to the concept of the Shekhinah (Divine Presence, which is the source of all souls) being like a mother who goes with her child in exile to protect him. The Sefirah of Binah (Understanding) is the maternal aspect. Mashiach is related to this, and therefore frequents the place where this mitzvah is rooted above. Roof-hitbodedut helps one ponder the plight of the Jewish people in exile, together with the Shekhinah. One can come to feel this protective, soothing, comforting maternal divine energy accompanying him in all difficult places.

The Arizal teaches that the Mashiach will have the singular, unique, special privilege of reaching “yechidah she’b’yechidah”—“oneness of oneness,” the highest level of the soul (Arba Me’ot Shekel Kesef, 68b). Yet everyone possesses an aspect of Mashiach (Likkutei Moharan II, 32). This point lies dormant in one’s innermost recesses. Even though it only fully manifests in the actual Mashiach, each individual according to his spiritual efforts can access this inner point to some degree. It is a level of complete nullification to Eyn Sof, the Infinite One. Yechidah literally means “singular.” The self is swept away with only absolute yearning for God, to the exclusion of all other desires.

The roof is the Keter (Crown) aspect of the house. It draws from the highest makifim. It can serve as a good base for one to access his personal Mashiach-yechidah aspect. Thus we find that in the Mussar yeshivah of Novhardok, they would go on the roof and scream “Hashem (YHVH) Hu HaElokim (ELHYM)!” (I Kings, 18:39). (The Novhardokers were also known for going to the basement and spending the night in a coffin in order to get a sense of what it’s like to die.) Yom Kippur is the holiest day of the year. The entire day we spiritually ascend through the five prayer services. These five services correspond to the five levels of the soul, which we climb throughout the day. The grand climax is the end of the Ne’ilah prayer, corresponding to yechidah. We finish this prayer by declaring “YHVH is ELHYM!” (“Transcendent and Immanent are one!”) And the reshimu, or imprint, of this highest connection can be awakened daily by shouting it on the roof.

Rooftops are not only for barbeques (or for depressed people to jump off of, God forbid). One good thing about the city is that it is a gold mine of unharnessed natural resources: there are so many unused rooftops! Climb to the roof so that you can reach the heights of prayer.

PS: If you think raising your voice might upset the neighbors or distract the police from their appointed rounds, Rabbi Nachman’s advice about the “silent scream”—crying out to God in your imagination—also works very well!

PROPHECY AND VISUALIZATION

2009-12-10T07:14:00.003-05:00

From Rabbi Menachem Recanati(1223-1290), Commentary on the Torah, “Vayechi,” 37d; also cited in Rabbi Chaim Vital’s “Shaarey Kedushah,” Part IV. Translated by Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, “Meditation and the Bible” (Samuel Weiser or Jason Aronson editions), p. 88.

Prophecy and Visualization

The prophets would meditate (hitboded) on the highest mysteries of the Sefirot, as well as on the Supernal Soul, which includes all attributes. They would depict these things in their mind with their imaginative faculty, visualizing them as if they were actually in front of them.

When their soul became attached to the Supernal Soul, this vision would be increased and intensified. It would then be revealed automatically through a state where thought is utterly absent . . .

It was in this manner that the early saints would raise their thoughts, reaching the place from which their souls emanated.

This was also the method of attaining prophecy. The prophet would meditate (hitboded), directing his heart and attaching his mind on high. What the prophet would visualize would depend on the degree and means of his attachment. He would then gaze and know what would happen in the future. This is the meaning of the verse, “To Him shall you cleave” (Deuteronomy 10:20).

ENCOUNTERING ONE'S "DOUBLE"

2009-12-10T07:10:00.002-05:00

An excerpt from Shoshan Sodot (“The Rose of Mysteries”), p. 69b (Koretz ed.), written by Rabbi Moshe ben Yaakov of Kiev (1449-1518).

From Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, “Meditation and the Kabbalah” (Jason Aronson or Samuel Weiser editions), pp. 109-110. Although footnotes have been removed, several source references have been restored to the text.

Encountering One’s “Double”

“The power of the prophets to liken a form to its Creator” is a very great mystery . . . I found an ancient teaching that explains this, and I will write it down here . . . These are the author’s words:

The following was told to me by the enlightened sage, Rabbi Nathan, of blessed memory:

When an individual completely enters the mystery of prophecy, he suddenly sees his own image standing before him. He becomes totally unaware of his own essence, as if it were concealed from him. Then he sees his own image standing before him, speaking to him and telling him of the future. It is regarding this mystery that our sages say, “Great is the power of the prophets, since they liken a form to its Creator” (Bereshit Rabbah 27:1).

Rabbi (Abraham] ibn Ezra (1089-1164) likewise taught, “He who hears is a man, and he who speaks is a man” (Ibn Ezra on Daniel 10:21).

Regarding this, another sage writes:

Through letter combinations and meditation (hitbodedut), I had a number of experiences. One involved a light, that followed me wherever I went, as I discussed in Sha’arey Tzedek (“Gates of Righteousness”). However, I was never worthy of attaining a level where I could see my own image standing in front of me.

Still another sage writes:

I am aware how insignificant I am, and I realize that I am certainly not a prophet or a disciple of the prophets. I have neither attained Ruach HaKodesh (Holy Spirit), nor have I made use of a heavenly voice (Bat Kol). Of such things, I have not been worthy, for I have not divested myself of my “cloak” or “washed my feet” (see Recanati, beginning of parshat “Vayera”). But I call heaven and earth as my witnesses, that this account is true.

One day, I was sitting and writing mysteries in the manner of Truth. Suddenly, it was as if I had ceased to exist. I then saw my own image standing in front of me. As a result of this, I was forced to stop writing.

In his commentary on the Guide to the Perplexed (I:46), Rabbi Moshe of Narbonne (d. 1362) writes:

When the sages teach that the prophets “liken a form to its Creator,” they mean that they liken the form which is in the prophet’s own soul . . . to its Creator, that is, to God. It is thus written, “Over the form of the Throne there was a form like an image of a Man” (Ezekiel 1:26). These forms and images exist in the soul of the prophet.

This also happened to us when we were writing this book. Once, in the late afternoon, we were placing the vowel points on the Explicit Name. All at once, our eyes were confronted with visions, appearing like definite forms made of red fire. This occurred a number of times while we were writing this book.

GATES OF RIGHTEOUSNESS

2009-12-10T07:06:00.002-05:00

From Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, “Meditation and the Kabbalah” (Jason Aronson or Samuel Weiser editions), pp. 107-108. Although footnotes have been removed, several source references have been restored to the text.

Gates of Righteousness

Although [Rabbi Abraham] Abulafia (1240-after 1291) presents an excellent overview of his [meditative] methods, he does not fit them together into a single system, nor does he discuss the form of his experiences in any detail. This is left to an anonymous disciple, author of Sha’arey Tzedek (“Gates of Righteousness”), a book that was most probably written in the year 1295 in Hebron. A clue to the identity of the author is provided in another manuscript, which indicates that the author’s name was Shem Tov. As mentioned earlier, Abulafia had a disciple by the name of Shem Tov of Borgus, and it is highly probable that he is the author of this book.

There is very little question that the master mentioned in this book is none other than Abulafia himself. And for the most part, the material here appears to parallel that in other works by Abulafia. Most important, however, is an autobiographical sketch, where the author speaks of his experience with Abulafia, describing his initial skepticism and ultimate enlightenment. We will not include this here, however, since it has already been published elsewhere in English.

Numerous copies of this book were made, and it exerted an important influence on the later Kabbalists of the Holy Land. Almost an entire chapter was copied two hundred years later in the main work of Rabbi Judah Albotini, whom we shall discuss in the next section. Another important Kabbalah text, Shoshan Sodot (“Rose of Mysteries”), actually quotes it by name.

The author speaks of three ways through which one can divest himself of the physical: the common way, the philosophical way, and the Kabbalistic way. The common way involves a method called “erasure” (mechikah), where one attempts to erase all images from the mind (Sha’arey Tzedek, 59b). The author notes that he was aware that the Moslem Sufis also made use of this technique, and that one method involved the repeated chanting of the name “Allah.” AIthough the Sufis are able to attain a degree of ecstasy in this manner, the author writes that they cannot know its significance, since they are not party to the Kabbalah tradition.

Discussing the philosophical way, the author speaks of a certain philosopher by the name of Ben Sina, who wrote many volumes while in a state of meditation (hitbodedut). When an idea was particularly difficult, he would concentrate on it and ponder it, often drinking a cup of strong wine, enabling him to sleep on it (Sha’arey Tzedek, 60a-b). This is of particular interest, since a very similar procedure is also discussed by Rabbi Isaac of Acco, and this is one indication that the two shared a common tradition.

It is in discussing the way of Kabbalah that the author mentions his master, who is identified as Abulafia. The master spent four months teaching him the methods of letter permutations, telling him to erase everything from his mind. Finally he told him, “The goal is not to stop at any finite form, even though it is of the highest order. Through the way of Divine Names, one can reach a level where the power is not under his control. The more incomprehensible the Names, the greater is their advantage” (Sha’arey Tzedek, 62b).

The master then showed him books composed of utterly incomprehensible Names and number combinations, saying, “This is the Path of Names.” The author spent two months deeply meditating on these, and finally, one night, he awoke to see a light shining from his face. At first he did not believe what he was seeing, but no matter where he walked in the dark, this light followed him, even when he hid under a blanket. He was aware that this was something that could not be explained in any natural manner.

Upon informing the master of this experience, the author was told to spend half his time permuting letters, and half making use of the Divine Names. One night while permuting the letters of the Name of Seventy-Two, he began to see the letters expanding before his eyes, growing until they looked like great mountains. His hair stood on end, and he began to speak automatically, saying words of wisdom.

On a later occasion, the author made use of a technique involving the Tetragrammaton. At first, he felt as if he would die, but after saying a sincere prayer, he suddenly felt as if he were being anointed with oil from head to toe. He then felt a tremendous spiritual experience, which he speaks of as indescribable sweetness of rapture and ecstasy.

IN THE DESERT

2009-12-02T12:22:00.002-05:00

Rabbi Trugman formerly served as Regional Director of NCSY in Denver, Colorado. He and his wife Rachel now live in Eretz Yisrael, where they have founded Ohr Chadash, a Jewish educational and outreach organization.

In the Desert

By Avraham Arieh Trugman

When the wind speaks to itself
in the desert
sheep keep on grazing
while shepherds
lift up their heads a bit -
looking for a sign.

When the wind sings a tune
in the desert
the sand dances
and the prophet gazes
intently into the future.

Silent and rolling
waves of hills
flow toward the horizon,
consciousness riding
along the crest.

For each time of day
there is the changing
of the color guard.
The silhouettes of morning
turn hazy in the afternoon
and then,
pink, red and purple promenade
in the kaleidoscope clouds
of the evening hue.

Each day has its beginning
and each life will reach its end;
footsteps in the sand
which are no longer -
still, every voice
and every step
are recorded in the dunes.

When the sun blazes
in the desert
shepherds gaze into the past
while prophets lift up their heads -
looking for a sign.

BAR YOCHAI

2009-12-02T08:20:00.002-05:00

Rabbi Trugman formerly served as Regional Director of NCSY in Denver, Colorado. He and his wife Rachel now live in Eretz Yisrael, where they have founded Ohr Chadash, a Jewish educational and outreach organization.

Bar Yochai

By Avraham Arieh Trugman

In your cave at night
secrets hover like angels
looking for a friend.

You sit by your candle
and spin a web of connection,
unity of worlds barely perceived,

Piercing through galaxies
light years away,
river flowing down
of heavenly dew.

And you anoint with thought
the eternal soul,
that graces for a moment
its dwelling place below.

RABBI SHIMON BAR YOCHAI AND LAG BAOMER

2009-12-01T07:49:00.002-05:00

First published in TZADDIK Magazine, Erev Pesach 5760 / 2000, posted here with the kind permission of the author and Mosdos Nachal Novea of Tzefat.

Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai and Lag BaOmer

By Talya Lipshutz

Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai is best known as the author of the Zohar, the classic work of Kabbalah. Explaining God's hidden mysteries, the Kabbalistic tradition was part of the Torah received by Moses at Sinai. In the early generations after the Torah was given, Kabbalah was discussed only through allegory and parable, which disguised the concealed secrets of the Torah and protected them from being misused by the unworthy. Until the time of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, explicit Kabbalistic terms were not used openly. By authoring the Zohar, Rabbi Shimon established a new school for understanding the Kabbalah, bringing its wisdom further down into the world. It remained unparalleled until the system of the Arizal, Rabbi Isaac Luria, was introduced in the Holy City of Tsfat in the sixteenth century.

Originally, the Zohar consisted of volumes of notes, restricted to a very small secret circle. When the group finally broke up, the manuscripts were hidden in a vault, and were not uncovered until the thirteenth century. They came into the hands of one of the most prominent Kabbalists of the time, Rabbi Moshe de Leon, who edited and published them in the 1290s. The kabbalists of that generation knew enough about the writings of the Zohar to recognize it as authentic, and they accepted the work with virtually no controversy. This led the way for the Arizal's new system in the late 1500s. The Arizal opened the doors to the Zohar of Rabbi Shimon, clarifying its mysteries and teaching the initiated how to apply its wisdom.

Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai was born in the Galilee and became a Tanna, one of the great Sages of the Mishna. Living during the era of the Roman persecutions, he was a disciple of Rabbi Akiva in the second generation after the destruction of the Second Temple. The Talmud recounts that Rabbi Shimon was condemned to death for insulting the Roman government. He and his son, Rabbi Elazar, fled to a cave where they remained for thirteen years, meditating and studying the mysteries of the Torah together. They rose to such a level that they became worthy of mystical revelations from Elijah the Prophet. After twelve years, Rabbi Shimon and his son left the cave and while walking in the fields, saw people working the land, engaging in the mundane affairs of the world instead of learning Torah. They became so disturbed and angry by this that any place they looked upon immediately burnt up. A heavenly voice called out, "You came out of the cave to destroy the world? Go back in!" They returned to the cave and studied for another twelve months. They then raised their hands to heaven and said, "Merciful Father! Even the wicked aren't judged in Gehennom for more than twelve months, it is enough to be judged as the wicked are judged." Their prayers were accepted and a heavenly voice told them to exit the cave once again. This time they saw an old man hurrying along with two bundles of fragrant myrtles in his hands. He explained that he was bringing myrtles home in honor of the Sabbath. From this, Rabbi Shimon and his son were appeased. They saw how it was possible to reach the highest levels of holiness through everyday actions (Tractate Shabbat 33b). Subsequently, Rabbi Shimon established a new school of mysticism based on the Torah secrets he had learned with Elijah the Prophet. Seventy years after Rabbi Shimon's passing, his students wrote down his central teachings, forming the main body of the Zohar.

Rabbi Shimon passed away on Lag BaOmer, the thirty-third day of the Omer counting. The period of the Omer begins on the second night of Pesach and leads up to Shavuot, fifty days later. It is marked by many customs related to mourning, because it was during this period that 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva, men of exceptional caliber, were struck by a plague for their failure to accord one another proper love and respect. On Lag BaOmer, the plague ceased.

Lag BaOmer also marks the day of Rabbi Shimon's passing. Before he left the world he said that, every year, this day should be marked with celebration instead of mourning. The day is filled with a great light because of the secret wisdom he reveled to the world through the Zohar, and is thus a cause for tremendous rejoicing. To this day, Lag BaOmer is celebrated with special festivity in the Land of Israel through much dancing and singing. In particular, large torches and bonfires are lit and can be seen throughout the country from great distances.

In Meron, at the gravesites of both Rabbi Shimon and his son, Rabbi Elazar, the festivities and rejoicing are especially marked. Over 100,000 Jews, religious and secular alike, converge each year on the site in the Upper Galilee, making it one of the most popular national festivals. On this day, it is a time-honored custom to give the first haircut to boys who have reached the age of three, leaving them with sidecurls, called "peyos." Many people travel to Rabbi Shimon's gravesite for Lag BaOmer from other locations in the world to experience the unique holiness and extraordinary spiritual goodness of the day.

The Arizal and his students strongly emphasized the tremendous spiritual benefit of rejoicing in honor of Rabbi Shimon on Lag BaOmer. Afterwards, the Baal Shem Tov and his disciples, who continue the traditions based on the Kabbalah, also strengthened this custom. Rebbe Nachman of Breslev spoke of the greatness of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, as well, revealing his own connection to him through the discourse printed at the beginning of Likutey Moharan.

"Tzaddikim are greater after their passing than when they were alive" (Tractate Chullin 7b). Anyone who has been in Meron on Lag BaOmer can attest to the truth of this well-known statement from the Talmud. The sheer number of people who continue to visit his gravesite in Meron on Lag B'Omer, as well as throughout the year, indicates that the spiritual power of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai lives on.

"BAR YOCHAI"

2009-12-01T07:48:00.003-05:00

This well-known zemer (religious song) was composed by the saintly Rabbi Shimon Ibn Lavi, whose name is formed by the acrostic. After escaping as a child from the Spanish Inquisition, the author arrived in Fez, Morocco, where he remained until 1549. He set out for Eretz Yisrael, but on his way there, he stopped in Tripoli, where he was persuaded to remain as the community's teacher until his death in 1588. He also was an accomplished kabbalist who wrote a commentary on the Zohar called Ketem Paz (“Sockets of Fine Gold”), and his burial place remains sacred to both Jews and gentiles of the region.

The song is a tribute to the “Tanna HaEloki” (“Divinely-Inspired Sage of the Mishnah”) Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. It is sung mainly in Sefardic Jewish communities on Shabbat; but on Lag BaOmer (which is Rabbi Shimon’s yahrtzeit), it is sung by Jewish communities all over the world, Sefardic and Ashkenazic alike. Today, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai is recognized as a universal figure, the very paradigm of the tzaddik, revered by all.

Several parts of the present translation reflect the Hebrew commentary of the twentieth century kabbalist, Rabbi Yeshaya Asher Zelig Margolios, published in “Biur HaShir ‘Bar Yochai.’ ” Our biographical sketch of Rabbi Shimon Ibn Lavi is also based on the research of Rabbi Margolios, published in “Hillulah De-RASHBY.”

Each stanza corresponds to one of the ten sefirot, in ascending order, as we have indicated; however, the composition is laden with kabbalistic allusions, which we have not attempted to explain. The song’s rhyme-scheme has been sacrificed in order to preserve the sense of the lyrics, although the result is at best an approximation of the song’s profound meaning.

“Bar Yochai”

By Rabbi Shimon Ibn Lavi

Introduction and new translation of the song “Bar Yochai” by Dovid Sears

Bar Yochai

Bar Yochai! You were anointed—fortunate are you!—

with oil of gladness, for the sake of your companions.

(Malkhut/Kingship)

Bar Yochai! With oil of sacred anointment

You drew from the holy vessel.

You wore the golden head-plate, the diadem of holiness;

Bound upon your head, your beauty.

Bar Yochai! You were anointed—fortunate are you!—

with oil of gladness, for the sake of your companions.

(Yesod/Foundation)

Bar Yochai! To a goodly dwelling did you retreat

On the day you ran, the day you fled.

In a cave among the cliffs you remained;

There you acquired your brilliance and your splendor.

Bar Yochai! You were anointed—fortunate are you!—

with oil of gladness, for the sake of your companions.

(Netzach/ Eternity or Victory; and Hod/Splendor)

Bar Yochai! Like standing acacia beams in the Tabernacle,

God’s disciples engage in study.

With wondrous light, with fiery light, they burn—

Behold, your teachers, who shall instruct you!

Bar Yochai! You were anointed—fortunate are you!—

with oil of gladness, for the sake of your companions.

(Tiferet/Beauty)

Bar Yochai! To the Field of Apples you ascended

To gather precious things from afar,

Mysteries of Torah like blossoms and flowers.

“Let us make man” was said because of you!

Bar Yochai! You were anointed—fortunate are you!—

with oil of gladness, for the sake of your companions.

(Gevurah/Might)

Bar Yochai! You were girded with strength,

And in the battle of the “Fiery Law,” at the city’s gate,

Your sword you drew from its scabbard,

Wielding it against your enemies.

Bar Yochai! You were anointed—fortunate are you!—

with oil of gladness, for the sake of your companions.

(Chesed/Kindness)

Bar Yochai! The visionary place of Marble Stones

You reached, and came before the Supernal Lion.

Even the orb of the crown set upon the star Arcturus

You beheld—but none can behold you!

Bar Yochai! You were anointed—fortunate are you!—

with oil of gladness, for the sake of your companions.

(Binah/Understanding)

Bar Yochai! In the Holy of Holies—

The “green line” that creates new manifestations—

Seven Sabbaths, the secret of Fifty,

You fastened the bonds of the letter Shin as your bonds!

Bar Yochai! You were anointed—fortunate are you!—

with oil of gladness, for the sake of your companions.

(Chokhmah/Wisdom)

Bar Yochai! The Yud of primordial wisdom

You gazed into its innermost glory;

The Thirty-Two Paths, the exalted point of origin.

You are a cherub anointed, the radiance of your generation!

Bar Yochai! You were anointed—fortunate are you!—

with oil of gladness, for the sake of your companions.

(Keter/Crown)

Bar Yochai! The wondrous light that shines above all

You feared to glimpse, for it is vast.

Divine mystery, "Ayin (Nothingness)" she is called.

Indeed, you declared, “No eye shall see You.”

Bar Yochai! You were anointed—fortunate are you!—

with oil of gladness, for the sake of your companions.

Bar Yochai! Fortunate is she who bore you,

Fortunate is the people that learns from you,

Fortunate are those who can fathom your mystery,

Garbed in the Priestly Breastplate, Your sacred oracle!

Bar Yochai! You were anointed—fortunate are you!—

with oil of gladness, for the sake of your companions.

THE NATURE OF THOUGHT

2009-11-24T13:59:00.002-05:00

MANTRA, SILENCE, PROSTRATION

2009-11-24T13:50:00.002-05:00

From Rabbi Perets Auerbach’s “The Science, Art and Heart of Hitbodedut.” Explantory notes have been omitted from this online version. This work-in-progress may be purchased by contacting the author by email: peretsz@gmail.com. We thank Rabbi Auerbach for permitting us to present this and other excerpts from his writings here.

Mantra

An ancient meditative technique is to say over a word many times. You internalize its nature, and its message becomes actualized in the awareness. This can be used as a method (Likkutei Moharan II, 96). The simplest, strongest thing is to chant “Ribbono shel Olam,” “Master of the Universe.” While saying this, one can ponder an infinite spectrum of Divine truths. Speech is extremely powerful (ibid.). Saying something is not just a sort of self-suggestion – it really invokes spiritual realities. Placing the mind and speech in “Ribbono shel Olam-space” really hooks the self to God. This is intensified if one merges with the word and “breathes” it in and out.
Similarly, any word/idea can be used in this way. “Shalom (peace)” is a powerful word/concept/idea to repeat and meditate on. Wherever one turns his attention and mouth, so that aspect will be awakened above and below.

“I make known Your faith with my mouth” (Psalms 89:2). “Faith depends upon a person’s mouth” (Likkutei Moharan II, 44). The Tikkunei Zohar (Introduction) states that “Malchut (kingship) is the mouth.” It is the last sefirah that mobilizes them all into expression. Speech that comes from it concretizes realities, both in the world and in the self. Saying anything is a powerful tool to make it happen – especially when the words are said to God. Repeat in a chant to God anything of a positive nature that you wish to materialize, within or without.

This applies even more so to specific words of emunah (faith), which also corresponds to malchut. Saying words of faith is itself an expression of faith, and brings one to greater faith (Sichot HaRan 146). Simply saying, “God, I believe in Your power to help Me!” strengthens belief and thereby helps to make manifest the needed aid.

If a person finds himself stuck without words, this very problem can be made into a prayer: “Ribbono shel Olam, I have nothing to say to You! Please open my mouth to communicate, because I want a connection with You...” Many things pass over a person in this world, and at times even this might be too difficult. Therefore, one should know that just taking some time to sit before God and yearn for Him is very precious and makes a great impression above (Likkutei Moharan II, 25).

The state of not being able to relate to God reflects being in the “empty vacuum (chalal ha-panui),” which the Arizal teaches was the prerequisite for the creation of all the worlds (Eitz Chaim, beginning). However, one who turns this very quandary into a prayer rectifies this problem at its root and reveals the Divinity hidden in the empty vacuum (Likkutei Moharan I, 64). This evokes a tremor in creation and helps everyone in the world to relate to and find God in all the places of concealment. For as Rabbi Nachman explains, if God seems distant it is only because He wants to bring you very close (Likkutei Moharan II, 12).

Silence

“There is no speech, no words” (Psalms 19:4). “To You silence is praise” (ibid. 65:2). “He sits alone (badad – the root of hitbodedut) and is silent” (Lamentations 3:28).

“Silence is golden.” Thus the Talmudic sages observe, “If a word is worth a selah (coin) - silence is worth two” (Megillah 18a). Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai said to his son, “Elazar, your silence built both Temples (corresponding to binah the upper, and malkhut, the lower” (Zohar I, Introduction). The Sages also state, “The best medicine of all is silence” (Megillah, loc. cit.), and “Silence is a fence for wisdom” (Avot 3:17). The Chashmal in Ezekiel’s “Merkavah” vision is ‘chash (silence)/mal (speech) – “speaking silence” (Chagigah 13a). “Sounds of silence.” As mentioned, if someone is wordless, simply sitting before God wanting to speak to Him, this is a great thing. Simply being alone before Him isolates the awareness and focuses it on God’s omniscience.

Moreover, silent hitbodedut can be utilized to come to a great awareness. Rabbi Nachman once told his disciple, Reb Noson, that one should turn red from shame before God’s awesome Presence (Si’ach Sarfei Kodesh, Vol. I, 730). The self is abashed once it is awakened to know that it is really before God every moment. This extends to include all worlds. Every single instant, they are all renewed yesh me-ayin, “something from nothing,” by the Divine will. They are all as naught before Him (Zohar, Daniel, Introduction). Practice this, and the silence associated with being “locked up” can be released, unearthed, and transformed into expanded consciousness.

Prostration

The above ideas about bitul (nullification of ego) can be more deeply implanted in one’s awareness through prostrating before God in hitbodedut. This was practiced in the time of the Temple and is also mentioned in the Talmud (Berakhot 34b). It is a basic principle that “externality awakens internality” (Mesilat Yesharim, chap. 7). The outer position of physical prostration helps bring the inner awareness to a state of nullification (Likkutei Torah from the Ba'al HaTanya). “They stood packed and prostrated with room” (Avot 5:8). All of Israel crowded into the Temple’s courtyard on the three pilgrim festivals (Chagigah 4b). Despite the fact that in the courtyard there was standing room only, when everyone bowed down each person found plenty of space around him. This is because the state of bitul (nullification) elevated them to mind-expansion (mochin de-gadlut), which propelled them into the exalted level of transcendent space.

Some mistakenly think that prostration should not be done anymore, because it is still practiced by idolaters. This is not true. In the time of the Temple idolaters also practiced it, and yet it was done. Today we also find prostration to be part of the services of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the “Days of Awe.” If so, there is no reason for the individual not to practice prostration. However, for halakhic reasons it is important to place an interruption, such as a towel, between the body and the ground (Orach Chaim 131:8).

“We have no one to rely upon except our Father in heaven” (Sota 49a). Sometimes a person needs to be emotionally stripped bare in order to come to this realization. When the Temple stood, there were wellsprings of spiritual experience available. Unquestionably, this was a great thing. However, the awesome lights that were accessible also presented a subtle test: Would one on a high level still be able to recognize that he is really absolutely nothing and totally throw himself on God? This is included in Rabbi Nachman’s teaching that one must be an expert in walking, in “running and returning” (Likkutei Moharan 6:3). “Running” refers to times of spiritual ascent. The expertise required at such times is to use the light to become more nullified to God, and not as a ‘spiritual Cadillac’ to indulge in.

“Tefilah l’ani . . . the prayer of a poor man” (Psalms 102:1). This is the remarkable quality of King David. Despite the fact that he was a king who lived surrounded by luxury, he always felt completely poor before God. He begged God for whatever he needed out of a realization of being undeserving, unworthy, and destitute. The Zohar tells us that this supplication of a poor man is the highest type of prayer (Zohar III, 195a).

THE HEART OF THE STRUGGLE

2009-11-18T12:17:00.001-05:00

From Ozer Bergman’s “Where Earth and Heaven Kiss: A Guide to Rebbe Nachman’s Path of Meditation” (Breslov Research Institute), pp. 119-121. The subject this excerpt addresses is actually part of a larger and more complex discussion, one of the Breslov sources for which is Likkutei Moharan I, 49. There, Rebbe Nachman discusses the paradox of the necessity to fall into dualistic thinking for the sake of the world and the spiritual advantages that can only come about through our working through conflicting thoughts and emotions.

The Heart of the Struggle

Rabbi Ozer Bergman

Struggling is, well, a struggle. It’s hard—it may even hurt— to keep your mind free of wrong-thinking and keep it focused on right-thinking, but it’s part of the medicine the soul needs to take. The brit (covenant) which we Jews made with God includes the attitude, state of mind and dedication that is necessary for and characterized by tzaddik-like self-control in the face of temptation and distraction. The struggle takes serious effort and often drains us of happiness, a counterproductive by-product if ever there was one. So be smart enough, while you’re struggling, to take joy and smile: Despite my setbacks and failures, I’m fortunate to be allied with a teacher such as Rebbe Nachman.

Many an individual finds it disconcerting and discouraging that he has to battle his thoughts so long and so hard. Wouldn’t it be better, he thinks, if he could spend his time and energy discovering the cure for cancer? Wouldn’t it be better to spend his time on the obviously holy, like Torah study and prayer? Not necessarily. This kind of conclusion betrays our limited perspective. Do you think that while we’re busy doing our tikkun haolam, God is just sitting back, watching us and letting us make all the decisions about what to do next? Not at all. He intervenes, pointing each of us towards his next job. Often that “next job” is the “Battle of the Thoughts,” the score of which is not tallied by how many unwanted thoughts you cast out, but by your beads of sweat.

The fact that you invest so much time and effort in struggling against wrong-thinking and are prevented from coming up with a cure for cancer is not your concern. That’s Heaven’s affair. What you are thinking (i.e., your need to struggle) may be wrong for the goals you had hoped to achieve, but they are right for what God hopes from His creation. Just follow your teacher’s instructions.

Kola b’machashavah itberiru (“Everything is purified through thought” [Zohar 2:254b]). All tikkun haolam has its genesis in your thinking. All tikkun haolam begins in your mind. As thoughts come into your head, you have to select which ones to keep and which ones to reject.

The Midrash tells us that when Pharaoh set out to capture the Israelites by the Red Sea, he and his army came on horses of different colors—red, black, white and spotted. Each horse in Pharaoh’s cavalry had its own gait. Red horses ran to anger and to violence, and to passion for food, sex, money and power. Black horses galloped to the quicksand of depression and despair. White horses had the zealous gait of mistaken religious fervor for seeming mitzvot which are sanctioned by Rabbi Pharaoh, but which are not really mitzvot at all. Spotted horses had a drunken gait-thinking that is inconsistent at best and unstable at worst.

When the Egyptian army appeared on the horizon, the Israelites were rightfully terrified. They were so many of them! Moshe told the Jewish people to remain silent; God would fight their battle. We shouldn’t be frightened when encountering the unruly thoughts represented by Pharaoh’s horses. Moshe, the clear thinker, taught us to not respond directly to the wrong thought.

Surprising, counter-intuitive, but true: Direct combat with such thoughts only makes them stronger. Much too strong for us. The silent response (a la “don’t look over your shoulder”) is your strongest response. If one of Pharaoh’s horses canters into your mind, wait with patient silence. God will send one of His horses to take its place, and you’ll be back on track.

Pharaoh’s horses, the products of fantasy and imagination, are there only because God put them there. He put them there to get you to see through the illusion and choose God rather than the illusion.

Put your hand in His. Cry out for His help. If you cannot actually cry out, at least raise your eyes to seek His help.

SO MANY CHOICES

2009-11-18T12:11:00.002-05:00

From Ozer Bergman’s “Where Earth and Heaven Kiss: A Guide to Rebbe Nachman’s Path of Meditation” (Breslov Research Institute), pp. 163-166.

So Many Choices

Rabbi Ozer Bergman

Every now and then, use your hitbodedut as the first stage of defining and refining the values by which you want to live. Use it also as the venue in which you begin to formulate the goals and the plans that, stage by stage and step by step, will reflect your chosen values.

What exactly are those chosen values? Until you choose what you want out of life, you cannot formulate or pray for a plan to live by those values. As every good novelist knows, you always write the ending of your book first. Why? Because how the book ends will determine everything else that will be written in the story. Similarly, the ending which you choose for your life’s story will impact every decision you make. There is no more important choice you will ever make.

Alice asked the cat, “Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?”

“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” said the cat.

To make the right choices in life, you must turn your ear—and your heart—to listen closely and carefully, to hear through all the reverberating sounds and calls, the cacophony of wild beasts and wild claims. Your goal is to detect the genuine voice of Creation and reject its echoes. The genuine voice is a quiet, subtle, barely detectable whisper—until you hear it. Then it roars. You’ll never be able to hear it, though, unless you want it. If you don’t hear it, it’s either because you don’t want it at all or you don’t want it enough.

Rebbe Nachman once said to Reb Noson: “Everything you see in the world, everything that exists, is for the sake of free will, in order to challenge people.”

There are so many choices and oh so many voices—some yelling, some whispering, some in your face, some tugging and your sleeve. Some are so seductive, some so compelling. It can be maddening. A person may feel so overwhelmed that he makes a blind decision just to silence the noise.

Even if you have a fairly clear idea of what you want, some voices can mimic yours so well that you may believe that what they are saying is really you speaking. Is the choice you are making really yours? Is that really where you want to go? Are you fooling yourself or being fooled? Even if you’re sure that the choice is yours, are you certain that it leads to safe harbor?

Rebbe Nachman once remarked to Reb Noson, “You speak to people. Ask them, ‘What?’ Ask them to cut through all their excuses and rationalizations and honestly consider: What legacy will you leave for yourself? What will be your destiny?”

There’s an interesting experience one has almost immediately upon dying, an experience that is forced upon him: he gets to see that this world is vanity. He finally takes note that many of his “important concerns” were nonsense. This insight results from the great yishuv hadaat, the calm reflection, that comes when a person finally stops running and starts observing life from an unbiased perspective. Sadly, it is then too late to make use of this all-important piece of wisdom.

Lying there dead, one realizes that he wasted his days in vain. He will know that his most overwhelming desires were nonsense and confusion. Who really forced him! But a person must die before he fully perceives this truth.

Most things that people fear cannot harm them at all. The only time a person can think clearly is when he is dead. When he is lying on the ground, with his feet to the door, he will finally see the truth. Then he will realize that all his fears and worries were foolish and for nothing. What could anybody have done to him?!

While your fullest and most complete realization of this truth will hopefully wait for a good long while, Rebbe Nachman offers a valuable tip in the meantime: Use hitbodedut to reflect well on what you are doing. There is no need to wait till you’re absolutely dead and no longer able to busy yourself in the world to take a good, hard look at what’s truly important—and what is not.

Dedicating some of your hitbodedut to “comparison shopping” can be of inestimable value. An honest appraisal of the success that this world offers reveals that such pleasures are as permanent as passing shadows. They are, as Rebbe Nachman pointed out, as real as sunbeams in a dark room. It looks as if something is there, but if you try to grab it, you come up empty-handed.

Understand that this world is transient. From the day you’re born you begin to die. You’re never again going to live this day, this hour or this minute, ever. You need to remind yourself of this fact often because part of God’s genius was to hide it from us. Nothing is going to remain of all your fame, fortune, steak dinners or sexual pleasures. It may be necessary to occasionally make use of any or all of these for some nobler goal, but in and of themselves they have no value.

With hitbodedut you can detach from the furious and spurious pace and gauge accurately where your current path is leading. It usually takes more than an hour or two of hitbodedut to come to the intellectual realization and deep-rooted acceptance that this world has no enduring value. However long it takes, the hitbodedut invested is well worth it. Those sessions are your first steps and the crucial keys to easily divest yourself of your phobias and desires. From there, you can make hitbodedut the forum in which you determine, affirm and create your desire for living a life that is Jewish inside and out, from the inside out.

SOME REMARKS ON IMMANENTISM AND 'AYIN

2009-11-16T08:35:00.002-05:00

The following is an excerpt from Dr. Moshe Idel’s “Hasidism: Between Ecstacy and Magic” (SUNY), pp. 107-111. Footnotes have been omitted from this online version, although we restored several source references to the text. We also took the liberty of fixing several typos and settling on the term “naught” exclusively as the English equivalent of ‘Ayin, where the author uses both “naught” and “nought.”

Some Remarks on Immanentism and ‘Ayin

Moshe Idel

The question of which is the more dominant factor in religion, and especially in mysticism – experience or theology – is not easy to answer. A more open theology, with immanentist leanings, might be considered to open up more easily the way for mystical experiences. However, mystical experiences are reported even within religions that cultivate extreme forms of transcendental theology. Thus, it may be that the spiritual predisposition, the opening of the human to the divine, is more important for the occurrence of mystical encounters than theology. Such an opening would select out of the many available theologies in the speculative reservoir of a particular religion the more immanentist or pantheistic one. As Erich Neumann has said, the “world and its content are numinous, but this is true only because man is by nature a homo mysticus” (Mystical Man, p. 385). Therefore, the emergence of a certain type of mystical theology should be an indicator of the experiential emphasis of the religious mentality within which this theology appears. Provided that mystical experiences emerge from and are encouraged by both immanentist and transcendental types of theologies, it seems reasonable to conclude that the latter do not impede upon the mystical experiences. Insofar as Hasidism is concerned, its theologies, which include strong immanentist formulations, are apparently not strong determinants of this religiosity, but more the effects of a theological selection determined by the strong openness of the Hasidic masters toward the numinous. This also seems to be true in the case of other Jewish mystical systems, more precisely ecstatic Kabbalah, especially in the forms espoused by R. Yizhaq of Acre and [R. Moshe] Cordovero. Indeed, a certain correlation between a tendency toward experiential mysticism and immanentism should be presupposed.

That immanentist theology cannot alone explain the emergence of full-fledged mystical experience may be deduced from a comparison between Hasidism and the thought of one of its great opponents. R. Hayyim of Volozhin, who used expressions that betray his deep interest in immanentist theology, as M. Pachter has shown. Therefore, the theological assumption that God is immanent in the world is far from being an innovation of Hasidic thought, but is one of the possible theologies that an eighteenth-century mystic could have adopted from a variety of classical Jewish writings. Strong unitive expressions, however, cannot be found in the writings of R. Hayyim. It would therefore be more plausible to look for the sources of Hasidic mysticism not in a certain type of theology, or at least not solely in it, but in a special spiritual opening, which drew on classical sources both in order to reach and to express the mystical state. The existence of a long history of mystical techniques, concepts, and systems in medieval Jewish mysticism proves that those texts that revealed them could have informed the Hasidic masters; thus we may assume that the role of immanentist theology in the emergence of Hasidic mysticism may be substantially reduced.

With this observation in mind, let us inspect briefly the history of the concept of “annihilation [bitul].” This concept is crucial for many of the Hasidic discussions of mystical experience and may be considered one of the most important components of the mystical technique in Hasidism. Indeed, its role as part of the technical aspect of the model is the expansion of consciousness, the break ing of the ego-centered personality, in order to assimilate to the divine and thereby receive the influx from above. It should be emphasized that assimilation by annihilation does not concern divinity in its immanent aspect but, on the contrary, the highest plane in the divine world, the divine Naught. Despite the remoteness of this aspect of the divine, it is possible to encounter the deity by inducing a certain state of mind and/or soul. In these discussions, while we are stressing the importance of experiential starting points over theological ones, the possible impact of the latter should not be ignored. We must assume, however, that the existence of mystical practices is far more important for the actualization of a mystical drive than the theosophical or theological structure within which a particular form of mystical revival takes place. In other words, the emphasis should be placed on the existence of a directive to imitate God by self-effacement as well as on the practices of solitude and mental concentration. Such practices reflect more adequately the emergence of a mystical search that may also adopt a variety of theologies as religious frameworks. Let us therefore examine the availability of a pivotal practice for the nascent Hasidism in earlier mystical traditions.

In a Talmudic discussion, R. Abbahu, a mystically inclined Amora, is quoted to the effect that “the world does not subsist ... but for the sake of someone who conceives himself as nonexistent” (Hullin 89a). The last phrase is a translation of the Hebrew words Mesim ‘azmo kemiy she-‘eino This awareness of personal “nothingness” has no direct relationship to a divine way of behavior, though it has, at least implicitly, a certain cosmic connotation: the existence of the worlds is conceived as depending upon this kind of person. The precise nature of such a person is not specified by the Talmudic source, which mentions in this context—though not in this specific case—names of biblical figures.

However, in another context, R. Yohanan is quoted as saying that the Torah does not subsist except for those who conceive themselves as “nonexistent.” (Sotah 21b). In this case, however, a prooftext is given: the famous verse in Job 28:12, “Ve-ha-hokhmah me-‘ayin timaze.” While the original sense of the verse is interrogative (“But where shall wisdom be found?”), in the Talmudic context the sense is that wisdom, namely the words of the Torah, [is] found in someone who regards himself as nonexistent, the last concept being represented in the verse by the word ‘Ayin. Interestingly, R. Shelomo Yizhaqi [Rashi], the most important commentator on the Talmud, uses in the context of the passage the form ke-‘Ayin, namely “as nonexistence,” or “as naught,” instead of ke-’eino. I cannot embark here on a full description of the implication of such a reading of the biblical verse in the Talmud. However, for our purpose, it is sufficient to point out that according to the above quotes, ‘Ayin can designate the spiritual state of the few, who play a special role both in sustaining the world and as teachers of the Torah.

A correlation between humility and the concept of ‘Ayin as the symbol of the highest Sefirah, Keter [Crown], is already evident in R. Moshe Cordovero’s Tefillah le-Moshe (fol. 219b): “ ‘Ayin ‘Aniy, the humble, Anavim who are within ‘Ayin, while the poor ones are within ‘Aniy.” This statement means that the humble ones can reach the divine Naught, which stands for the first Sefirah, while the poor belong to the last Sefirah, Malkhut [Kingship]. Even more important for the subsequent evolution of Jewish mysticism is a passage from Cordovero’s Tomer Devorah [“Palm Tree of Deborah”], in which he relates the imitatio dei to the imitation of the activity of the first Sefirah; in the second chapter of this book we read that the “quintessence of the humility is that man should not find in himself any value but should consider himself as naught [‘Ayin] ... because Keter is the first attribute ... which sees itself as naught in front of its emanator. Likewise, man should consider himself as naught, indeed, his ‘non-existence’ being better than his existence.”

As Bracha Sack has shown (“The Influence of Reshit Hokhmah”), this text has influenced Cordovero’s student’s important book, Reshit Hokhmah, and thereby also Hasidism. However, before turning to this work, let us ponder the meaning of the comparison between human behavior and the theosophical processes. The first Sefirah recognizes both its nothingness and its dependence when it ascends to receive the power of the Infinite. However, the first Sefirah does not disappear, and there is no reason to assume that the concept of self-negation is proposed here even implicitly. The Sefirot in Kabbalah can return to their source, but they do not lose their distinctiveness even there. By analogy, humility does not automatically assume a loss of identity, but may signify instead the proper understanding of the nature of reality and the absolute dependence of the individual upon the higher entities.

R. Elijah de Vidas, a major disciple of Cordovero, describes the first Sefirah as bowing in front of the emanator; it is called ‘Ayin, “since it considers itself as nothing when compared to the Emanator. And it lowers its head in order to watch over and to emanate onto the lower worlds, which all incline to suckle from it. Therefore, it is appropriate for man to think about himself as naught before His Greatness, blessed be He, which has no end or limit” (Reshit Hokhmah, The Gate of Holiness, chap. 1, para. 15, p. 582, [Appendix 5]).

Although there is no doubt that de Vidas was influenced by Cordovero, it should be mentioned that he also made recourse to the two talmudic texts quoted above (ibid. p. 618). However, there is one element that is hinted at in Reshit Hokhmah that does not occur in the context of the passage we have quoted above from Cordovero’s Tomer Devorah. According to de Vidas, the Kabbalist should imitate the first Sefirah not only through his humility or “annihilation” but also, he seems to be saying, through his influence on others. It should be emphasized that this is not an explicit statement: the emanation of Keter appears in de Vidas, but not explicitly in Cordovero, while the human counterpart of this act is not mentioned. Nevertheless, from the phrase “it is appropriate” we may infer that someone should also attempt to imitate the first Sefirah by service to others. Although this is only a possible inference, it is one which, indeed, was drawn by the Hasidic masters. It should be emphasized that the use of the term ‘Ayin, in order to express the mystic’s attitude of humility in relation to God, does not imply, at least in the above texts, individual disintegration or momentary annihilation. On the contrary, in some instances we may assume that by imitating the divine Naught the mystic is extending his consciousness by removing the boundaries of the self. Just as the divine Sefirotic realm starts with the infinite and moves toward the finite, so it is the case with human consciousness during this experience: by broadening his consciousness one not only transcends his regular, mundane state of awareness, but enhances his spiritual capacity, enabling it subsequently to capture or attract more sublime contents and stronger divine powers. This is the explanation of the ability to imitate the second type of divine act: the emanation or the production of the influx that descends upon the lower entities. This explanation ensures a certain logic of events, a Gestalt-contexture between the two divine acts as imitated by the mystic…

UNION

2009-11-10T10:51:00.004-05:00

From Allen Afterman, “Kabbalah and Consciousness” (The Sheep Meadow Press 2005), pp. 71-75. A kabbalistic diagram and the author’s explanatory notes have been omitted from this online version, except where we restored several source references to the text. The late poet and mystic Allen Afterman studied with Rabbi Yitzchok Ginsburg of Chabad and Rabbi Gedaliah Fleer of Breslov, among others. One remark below calls for modification, however. Although it is true that the Chassidim put more stress on devekut (mystical cleaving) than their predecessors, at least in writing, the concept is found in several scriptural verses and is discussed by Rishonim (early medieval authorities) such as Ibn Ezra, Ramban and Radak, as well as in pre-Chassidic kabbalistic works such as those of the Maharal of Prague and Peleh Yo’etz. The method of hitbonenut (contemplation) he describes recalls the classic contemplative practice of Chabad Chassidism, although the author hastens to add that reflection in Torah study in general may be considered a sort of intellectual meditation.

Union

The innate desire of the soul is to reunify with the infinite. This is the root of every wanting; no other object, idea, or love can satisfy its desire. It is not only what the soul wants but what all of existence wants.' In the moment of union a person experiences all of existence uniting in himselfand all of its suffering, all of its yearning. This moment, as well as lower levels of mystical experience, is usually referred to as devekut. (being bound to, clinging, or cleaving to God) but also as “prophecy” and ahdut (becoming united, unification). The experience of devekut, however, is seldom elaborated upon in pre-Chassidic Kabbalah. The famous Talmudic story of the “four Sages who entered Paradise” expresses the dangers involved in the highest levels of transcendent experience. We read that Ben Azzai died, Ben Zoma became insane, Elisha Ben Abuyah renounced his faith, and only Rabbi Akiva “entered in [the state of] shalom and went out in shalom” (Chagigah 14a). In Chassidism, it is taught that while the other Sages did not commit themselves to return before the onset of their ascent towards God, Rabbi Akiva did. So that upon achieving union he naturally (unconsciously) returned. This is interpreted to reflect his commitment to the rectification of reality, which is the enduring value and purpose of union.

As the story of the four Talmudic Sages illustrates, mystical experience is inherently unstable, and is as potentially dangerous to the psyche as is its power of illumination. The process of “running towards God” is inevitably followed by a fall into ordinary consciousness. Falling is part of the natural spiritual rhythm in which transcendent experience is integrated into the routine of daily life. In order to achieve this integration, it is best that a person be committed to the spiritual path with its structure and collective experience, and if possible, to a teacher. If not, he may draw conclusions in isolation which lead into extreme asceticism, or egoism (most commonly in the form of messianism), or into psychosis. The ambivalent attitude of the Sages towards mystical experience is reflected in the teaching:

“Better is one hour of tshuvah (returning to God) and good actions in this world than the whole of life in the world to come; and better is one hour of the bliss of the spirit in the world to come than all the life in this world” (Sayings of the Fathers 4:17).

For such reasons the writings of Kabbalah are coded; its language and imagery is designed both to reveal and to conceal. Nevertheless, mystical union is the hidden core of Kabbalah, and is at the root of its total understanding.

Meditation

The traditional practices used by kabbalists to achieve devekut often involved Hebrew letter combinations and the recitation and permutation of divine names. These techniques are principally associated with the 13th century kabbalist Rabbi Abraham Abulafia and his school which in turn drew upon ancient sources. Letter combination and meditation on the names of God are still used by kabbalists and their students today. The intention of these meditations is explained by the Italian kabbalist Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto:

“God decreed . . . that when one would utter His Name, divine illumination and influence would be bestowed upon him. This is what God means when he says (Exodus 20:21), ‘In every place where I allow My name to be mentioned, I will come to you and bless you.’ When a particular name of God is uttered and used to call upon Him, it will result in the emanation of an influence (hashpa'ah) associated with that Name . . . God decreed that inspiration and prophecy should be attained in this manner . . . This occurs when one repeats one of these Names mentally, utters it verbally, or combines it with other words, and at the same time fulfills all the other conditions . . .”

Prayer, singing, meditation, secluded and silent communion with God, and speaking directly to God are the main paths to devekut. In prayer, the kabbalist concentrates his mind on the inner mystical intentions (kavvanot) and specific rectifications associated with each word or phrase. In meditation (hitbonenut), which may involve concentration upon spiritual ideas for many hours, the meditator reaches out through the intellect and then beyond. Such contemplation, although in a less concentrated form, is the essence of Torah study. The happiness which accompanies contemplation of the Torah (associated with Binah), underlies the great Jewish emphasis upon learning. The phenomenon of Jewish study for its own sake, of men spending the greatest part of their lives “learning,” is that of lifelong meditation. Nevertheless, no matter how much is gained in this way, it is not considered comparable to knowledge gained through direct spiritual inspiration.

“Turning one's face to God” is the direct and most uniquely Jewish approach to union. As is described by Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto, one is “... imploring and entreating Him and being heard and listened to by the Blessed One in the same way that a man, speaking to his friend, is heard and listened to by him.”

Direct communion usually develops in the mind before being overtly spoken. One’s inner conversation is the continuation of Abraham’s and Sarah’s conversation. In the Jewish tradition, this right can be considered the inheritance and entitlement from the ancestors (z'chut avot); an inheritance which includes the right to argue with God and to question his providence and justice. When communion involves actual speaking or spontaneous speech, it may be called sichah. Sichah (conversation) is simply intimate speaking out loud to God. (The daily practice of sichah, which is strongly emphasized by Rabbi Nachman, is nevertheless called hitbodedut in his writings.) In general, Jewish prayer or communion begins with praise. But each person begins at his own beginning; one with silence, another with singing, another by speaking of the difficulty of speaking, etc. This opening is called “the arousal from below,” the creation of an opening in oneself in which the infinite may “dwell.” Eventually, perhaps after many periods of silence and deadness, a person’s speaking will be answered by the experience of the divine presence.

Song Meditation

Song always implies pleasure; even a song of pain is a song longing for life’s pleasure. Each and every part of the Creation sings to its Creator. In terms of the sefirot, both the root of song and of primordial pleasure arc in the second head of Keter, the Head of Nothingness (Resha d'ayin), which is also the root of primordial pleasure. The Head of Nothingness is also the root of the Torah; thus Torah itself is called song, and is sung out. Singing is pure speech; the union of air, water, and fire. Thus chassidim often begin the study of Torah with the singing of several niggunim (wordless songs) which open the learning with their rhythms and transcendent structures.

Song meditation is known from the time of the prophets and their schools. Music is both an analogy for the movement towards mystical experience, and also an actual technique used to achieve devekut. In meditation, the singer sings with God's presence before his eyes. [According to an interpretation of Rabbi Elijah de Vidas,] “ ‘Sing, tzadikkim, to the Name’ . . . so that this name is before you, in order that you unify in such a way that the song is the complete devekut. . .”

Singing is the dark path, the blind search of the lover. When a person enters into singing, he is searching for the Beloved One. Thus the Song of Songs (called the “Holy of the Holies” of the Torah) is the allegory of the love between the bride and groom, between the soul and God.

Poetry and song are the same word in Hebrew, shir. The song is intense being that disappears, whereas the poem is engraved or perhaps coarsens into words. The song that is sung expresses the upward motion, the stripping away of words. Poetry is the downward motion of enclothement, of capturing. Thus poetry is related to the concept in Torah of catching light, of catching arrows in midair; ultimately, of catching the expanding universe. Poetry is a power to catch something that is about to disappear. This power of the soul to catch comes from the Higher Mother, Binah. The power to catch the arrow is greater than the shooting itself. The poet hears singing and somehow tries to catch it. The poem expresses the outer limit and beyond what he has words for. His desire to preserve and to express it must be stronger than the experience itself. Form must be stronger than inspiration. The female must be stronger than the male. If experience is stronger, if there are no words, it disappears into being.

THE REBBE OF KOTZK AND SOLITUDE

2009-11-04T20:32:00.002-05:00

The following is an excerpt from Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel’s “A Passion for Truth” (Jewish Lights reprint, 2008, first published 1978), pp. 214-215. One of the 20th century scholar-mystic’s seminal works, “A Passion for Truth” compares and contrasts the spiritual approaches of Chassidic master Rabbi Menachem Mendl of Kotzk and his younger contemporary, Danish theologian Soren Kierkegaard.

The Rebbe of Kotzk and Solitude

By Abraham Joshua Heschel

Even as a child the Kotzker [Rabbi Menachem Mendl of Kotzk, 1787-1859] was inclined to loneliness. He preferred God's nearness, though it involved estrangement from people. He learned to extend his solitudes and to isolate himself. Life, he felt, should be lived apart from the self, for the sake of the greater One outside the Self. The individual had to keep his head clear of all digressions that prevented the splendor of God's thought from centering in the mind. There were tremors below and dizziness above, but the intense love must grow in silence and with painful patience.

Was it not promiscuous to mingle with people who, by mendacity and effrontery, kept the Almighty in isolation?

Even while surrounded by disciples, Reb Mendl lived apart from others. When he closed his doors, it was not he who was suddenly alone but those who followed him. In this way he rid himself of flatterers and mediocre companions and was able to foster his contemplative impulses and insights undisturbed. His soul dwelled so long in the midst of alarms, was afflicted with such frustrations, that only in seclusion could he nurture some crumbs of hope. When decisive acts have to be carried out, even God says, “I have trodden the winepress alone” (Isaiah 63:3).

There is an old tradition in Judaism about holy men, such as Rabbi Shimon ben Yohai, who spent much of' their time in solitude. It was this ancient sage's example that the Kotzker announced he would follow upon assuming the leadership of his Hasidic community. As a young man, Rabbi Yitzhak Luria, the founder of the Lurianic Kabbalah, removed to the banks of the Nile. For seven years lie he secluded himself in meditation, visiting his familv only on the Sabbath, speaking seldom and then only in Hebrew, which was not commonly spoken in his time. Hasidic lore tells us that as a young man the Baal Shem Tov spent many years alone in the Carpathian Mountains.

Solitude was a common practice among mystically inclined Jews. Even the non-mystical Jewish writers of the Middle Ages seemed to agree that solitary living was indispensable to the attainment of spiritual purity. This view may be found in the writings of Abraham Ibn Ezra, Maimonides, Badarshi, Falaquera, Gersonides, Albo, Crescas, and Abravanel among others.

What is there for one who seeks to save his authenticity other than withdrawal from the world's blaring lies and deceitful eyes? Proximity to the crowd, to the majority view, spells the death of creativity. For a soul can create only when alone, and some are chosen for the flowering that takes place in the dark avenues of the night. They may live on the brink of despair, alternating between a longing for fellowship and for privacy.

Even people who consider themselves moderately kind but also realistic tend to accept the use of God's name in association with falsehood or the daily murder of innocent people. How easily we develop indifference to evil and consent to mendacity as an indispensable fact of life.

Can a man of sense feel mercy if he himself has never experienced terror? The Kotzker is very close to us during the night – a night that lasts all day and opens up the horror that other people felt and saw, after which they died.

WHERE SHALL I FIND YOU?

2009-11-02T19:30:00.007-05:00

This devotional work by the great medieval poet and author of “The Kuzari,” Yehudah Halevi (before 1075-after 1141), bespeaks one of the central themes of Jewish mystical contemplation: the Creator’s simultaneous transcendence and immanence. (Rabbi Nachman of Breslov addresses this theme in Likkutei Moharan II, 7, as well as in numerous other lessons.) We have attempted to replicate at least an echo of the poem’s rhyme schemes, but our translation is more concerned with communicating the author’s message than the poetic qualities of his Hebrew, which remain untranslatable. Many of the poem’s lines allude to scriptural verses and rabbinic teachings.

Where Shall I Find You?

Yehudah HaLevi

Translated by Dovid Sears

God, where shall I find You?

Your place is lofty and concealed.

And where shall I not find You?

The whole earth is full of Your Glory!

Though present within the heart’s inner core,

The ends of earth You fixed of yore.

The stronghold of those who draw nigh,

You are hope and trust of those faraway.

Enthroned on the Cherubim above the Ark,

Yet You abide beyond space, beyond light and dark.

You are praised by Your hosts

But all praises You surpass.

The sphere of heaven cannot contain You,

Temple chambers, how much less!

Upon Throne most exalted

Over all things You preside.

Yet You remain closer to the living

Than their bodies and their lives.

That we have no Maker but You,

Faithful tongues declare.

Who shall not fear You

And the yoke of Your dominion bear?

Who shall not cry out to You

Who provides their daily fare?

Your Presence I have sought,

Calling out from the depths of the heart.

When after You, I went forth resolutely

There I found You, on Your way to me.

In Your wondrous might, in the holy place,

You allowed me to envision Your face.

That he has not seen You, who can say?

The heavens and their legions proclaim Your dread,

But their voices forever remain unheard!

Can the Infinite One dwell within finite creation?

What can human minds conceive, creatures of humble station?

Yet You, Holy One, make Your home amidst their adoration.

Living angels at the summit of the universe

Your awesome paradox proclaim.

Above their heads Your sublime Throne rests,

Yet all existence is borne by Your Name!

"A STILL, SMALL VOICE"

2009-11-02T19:27:00.000-05:00

From Rabbi Avraham Greenbaum, Tzaddik (English translation of Chayei Moharan, compiled by Reb Noson; Breslov Research Institute, 1987), “His Attainments,” sec. 241, p. 254.

“A Still, Small Voice”

I was told that the Rebbe [Rabbi Nachman of Breslov] once said: “When do I have my meditation? When everyone is standing around me, and I am sitting there in the middle. That is when I seclude myself with God. I know how to cry out in a ‘still, small voice’ (I Kings 19:12)! And my voice is heard from one end of the world to the other.”

I myself once heard the Rebbe say something to the same effect – that he had a “still, small voice,” and he could stand in a great throng of people and still cry out in this “still, small voice” from one end of the world to the other. And none of the people round about would hear anything at all.

The Rebbe said something similar with regard to dancing. He said that when he was sitting with other people he could dance the most wondrous dance.

I once heard him say that he could be sitting among other people and “I am like someone who is surrounded by all the people in the world, and he dances and dances.” As the Rebbe was saying this, a number of musicians passed by with their instruments on their way to a wedding.

On another occasion, the Rebbe elaborated on this idea, teaching us how it is possible to be among people and still cry out with a “still, small voice” (see Rabbi Nachman’s Wisdom, sec. 16).

TIME TO THINK

2009-11-02T19:23:00.000-05:00

From Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, “Rabbi Nachman’s Wisdom” (English translation of Shevachey HaRan and Sichos HaRan, authored by Reb Noson; Breslov Research Institute, 1973), “His Wisdom,” sec. 47, pp. 150-151.

Time to Think

You must be very worthy to be able to meditate for a given time each day and regret what you must.

Not everyone can have such mental tranquility each day. The days pass and are gone, and one finds that he never once had time to really think.

You must therefore make sure to set aside a specific time each day to calmly review your life. Consider what you are doing and ponder whether it is worthy that you devote your life to it.

One who does not meditate cannot have wisdom.

He may occasionally be able to concentrate, but not for any length of time. His power of concentration remains weak and cannot be maintained.

One who does not meditate also does not realize the foolishness of the world. But one who has a relaxed and penetrating mind can see that it is all vanity.

Many desire to travel widely and become famous and powerful. They do not have enough perception to realize that this is vanity and striving after wind (Ecclesiastes 1:4, 2:11). It is all the more folish because it does not actually result in pleasure even in this world. The main result of such fame is suffering and insults.

One of the Rebbe’s followers once had a strong desire to become a renowned religious leader. The Rebbe told him, “You cannot even say the prayer after meals sincerely! Everything you do must be acceptable to others. Never once do you do something for the sake of G-d alone.”

THE LESSON OF ELIJAH'S CAVE

2009-11-02T19:19:00.002-05:00

From Rabbi Shmuel Horowitz’s collection of Breslov oral traditions, Avaneha Barzel, sec. 24. Translated by Dovid Sears.

The Lesson of Elijah's Cave

At the time Rabbi Nachman delivered the lesson later published as Likkutei Moharan I, 66, he had a discussion with Reb Noson about the Cave of Elijah. [There the biblical prophet had secluded himself from the world in order to commune with God.] Reb Noson was given to understand that Elijah had only reached his lofty spiritual level through hisbodedus (secluded meditation and prayer). This so inspired him that he went to the women’s section of the synagogue nearby (knowing that it would not be in use at that time) and began to recite psalms and speak to God in his own language with intense fervor.

In the meantime, someone in the town announced that he wished to celebrate an engagement party and wanted to invite Reb Noson. The man searched for him, but couldn’t find him. However, he figured that his friend was probably engaged in hisbodedus. So he began to cry out in the streets, “Reb Noson! Reb Noson!” At this, Reb Noson left his place of seclusion and went along with his friend to the engagement party.

THE ESSENCE OF JEWISH MEDITATION

2009-10-29T08:05:00.004-04:00

Originally posted on BBC's website, reproduced here by permission of Professor Les Lancaster, Liverpool John Moores University.

The essence of Jewish meditation

By Professor Les Lancaster

What is Jewish meditation?

'Meditation' is a word used extensively today, and it has connotations that do not sit easily with Jewish mystical practices. If you think of meditation simply as a means of relaxation, then you will not understand why Jewish mystics follow practices that can be highly complex. The typical Jewish meditation appears far from relaxing.

A deeper grasp of the term meditation paves the way for my discussion of Jewish mystical practices. We must recognise that there are, in broad terms, two different ways of thinking. The first is normal, everyday rational thought - thinking about things you have to do, or about ideas, or about people around you. The second is, by comparison, less logical and less oriented to immediate everyday goals. This second is a more penetrating kind of thinking.

It involves shifting the centre of gravity of the mind away from the sense of 'I' which normally dominates our goals. Like all meditative practices, Jewish mystical techniques are directed towards enhancing this second form of thinking. At the same time, these practices cultivate an awareness of the divine presence in all things.

In fact, the first type of thinking is simply a surface layer of thought. If you imagine the mind as a sea, then rational thought is simply the surface level of waves on the water. The major currents operate at the deeper levels of the ocean. The objective of meditation is to engage with these deeper currents.

One of the major texts of Kabbalah, the 12th-century Bahir, writes that the biblical prophet Habakkuk 'understood God's thought.' It tells us:

"Just as human thought has no end, for even a mere mortal can think and descend to the end of the world, so too the ear also has no end and is not satiated."

Jewish mystical practices enable us to use thought to 'descend to the end of the world', that is, to plumb the depths where mind and physical reality are no longer separate.

The goals of Jewish meditation

Within the overall framework of Judaism, meditative practices are intended to deepen the individual's engagement with all aspects of the religion. Meditation and techniques of concentration can:

-heighten one's understanding of the Torah

-develop an understanding of ritual and other religious observances

-give direction to prayer

-increase one's awareness of others' needs

More generally, Jewish meditation is understood as:

- promoting a greater closeness to God

- disciplining the mind, so that one has greater ability to focus mentally

- bringing an awareness of those regions of the mind that had previously been 'unconscious'

Examples and exercises

Examples of Jewish meditation

One of the oldest texts that describes Jewish meditation practices is the Sefer Yetsirah. Consider the following extract:

"Ten dimensions of nothingness. Their measure is ten to which there is no end.

A depth of beginning, a depth of end; a depth of good, a depth of evil; a depth of above, a depth of below; a depth of east, a depth of west; a depth of north, a depth of south.

The unified Master - God faithful King - rules over all of them, from His holy dwelling place, until eternity of eternities."

The meditation based on this passage entails consciously building up a deep sense of your place in relation to the dimensions.

We begin with 'depth of beginning'. You could ask yourself: what first triggered the situation in which you presently find yourself? As the mind arrives at answers (perhaps you are reading this because a friend thought you would be interested), continue by dismissing the idea that the answer might be definitive and final; there is always a further root (what is it about you that might have led the friend to think you would be interested; where did that quality in you develop from, and so on?).

When you can no longer put the answer in words (perhaps some ineffable intimation of a root in your soul), begin to move forwards in time.

What seem to be the likely consequences of your immediate situation? Again, continue to go beyond the immediate answers and stretch the bounds of your mental representations. In relation to the depth of good, the question to address concerns that which connects you to the larger whole - to God. And, for evil, what leads to a sense of disconnection? Always, you must stretch the bounds of the answers which pop into the mind.

The meditation continues with the first of the six directions of space. What is immediately above you? Air... the ceiling... other rooms... the roof... birds... sky... vastness of space... the infinite that cannot be formed in the mind...

It is as if you generate a beam of light from within that is gradually extended further and further whilst, at the same time, maintaining your awareness of the centre, the heart as the source of light... And then continue into the remaining directions. You may glimpse your inner core suspended at the heart of a web of infinite interconnections.

Ultimately, the objective is for you to experience a sense of meaning that can only be described as witnessing your self as a centre within a network of interconnections which plunge into an infinite nothingness.

The use of Hebrew in meditation: Visualising the Hebrew letters

The example on the previous page can be attempted without any specific background. However, most Jewish meditations require at least a basic knowledge of Hebrew, the sacred language of Judaism.

Jewish mystics view the Hebrew letters as the agents of creation. There are many techniques for visualising and working with the letters. The Sefer Yetsirah states that God engraved the letters, carved them, weighed them, permuted them, combined them, and formed with them all that was formed and all that would be formed in the future. Each of these processes is mirrored in a kabbalistic practice of visualisation.

Preparation for visualisation requires closing or half-closing the eyes. Normally, when you close the eyes you automatically turn the visual sense off inwardly as well. For this kind of a practice, however, you must remain acutely aware of the visual sense even whilst being closed to outward seeing. It is as if you are seeing the screen made by the insides of your eyelids.

Engraving means outlining the letter in the mind's eye; as the outline is built up, you must hold a clear intent to operate with a specific letter.

Carving entails establishing the letter as a powerful presence in visual consciousness; energy is focused on the letter until it blazes like fire on the inner screen of the mind.

The intent behind weighing is that of allowing the letter's qualities to impress themselves upon you; a receptive state must be cultivated, in which you might, for example, find meaning in the letter's shape, its constituent parts, its relations with other letters, and so on.

This is followed by permuting the letter with other letters; maybe, having focused on the letter's constituent lines, other letters using those lines arise in the mind.

Letters are then combined, enabling them to enter into relationships one with another.

The final stage concerns the meaning of those combinations; what kind of a presence is formed when those specific letters come together? It is not simply a matter of knowing the word (and, in fact, not all combinations produce words), but rather you should attempt to discern the nature of the entity depicted by the specific combination of letters. What tensions arise between the letters, or do they share a more harmonious relation?

Another meditation with the Hebrew letters introduces their sounds, as indicated in the following audio extract. These kinds of practice open up regions of meaning that extend beyond the reach of the everyday rational mind. As quoted earlier from the Bahir, they begin the process of forging deep links with 'God's thought'.

THE CELESTIAL FIRE

2009-10-23T07:35:00.002-04:00

From The Penguin Book of Hebrew Verse, edited by T. Carmi, pp. 87-88 (biographical note) and 221 (poem). However, we have slightly modified the translation here.

Yannai (sixth century), the first paytan (liturgical poet) of the classical period, lived in the Holy Land. He was virtually unknown until the 20th century, when I. Davidson discovered several of his compositions among the manuscripts in the Cairo Genizah. Subsequently, the research of M. Zulay led to the publication of over eight hundred poems, remarkable for their force, originality, and variety (from Editor’s Introduction). We have chosen this poem for its evocation of the mysteries of the prophetic experience.

The Celestial Fire

“Now an angel of the Lord appeared to Moses

In a blazing fire…”

A fire that devours fire

A fire that burns in things dry and moist

A fire that glows amid snow and ice

A fire like a crouching lion

A fire that manifests itself in many forms

An absolute fire that never expires

A fire that shines and roars

A fire that blazes and sparkles

A fire that flies in a storm wind

A fire that burns without wood

A fire that renews itself every day

A fire that is not fanned by fire

A fire that billows like palm branches

A fire whose sparks are flashes of lightning

A fire black as a raven

A fire curled like the colors of the rainbow!

THE MOMENT

2009-10-23T07:32:00.002-04:00

From The Penguin Book of Hebrew Verse, edited by T. Carmi, pp. 98 (biographical note) and 285 (poem)

Samuel HaNagid (993-1056), the first major poet of the “Golden Age,” was born in Cordoba and was amongthose who fled the capital when the Berber hordes destroyed it in 1013. A reknowned Talmudist and statesman, he was the first Spanish Jew to be granted the title “Nagid (Prince)” (Editor’s Introduction). We have chosen this poem for this website because, echoing the Book of Ecclesiastes, it expresses the ephemeral nature of worldly existence and the existential primacy of the moment – hence its title. This, too,was an important theme in Rabbi Nachman of Breslov’s mystical works some seven centuries later.

The Moment

She said: “Rejoice

For God has brought you

to your fiftieth year in the world!”

But she had no inkling

That , for my part, there is no difference

Between my own days which have gone by

And the distant days of Noah

In the rumored past.

I have nothing in the world

But the hour in which I am.

It pauses for a moment, and then

Like a cloud

Moves on.

TRUE PENANCE

2009-10-21T14:48:00.002-04:00

We thank our friend Reuven Pollack of Monsey, NY, for letting us know about this moving story, as published in Rabbi Elchonon Lesches, “Chassidic Portraits” (Otzar Sifrei Lubavitch), pp. 3-4. A “yechidus room” is designated for private interviews between a Rebbe and his Chassidim or other visitors. In Chabad, to “think Chassidus” means to contemplate subjects in Chassidic philosophy.

The Rebbe Maharash of Lubavitch: True Penance

A chossid once entered the yechidus room of the Rebbe Maharash (Rabbi Shmuel, 1834-1882) and bemoaned his wily and scheming character. “I do everything with cunning,” he lamented, and asked the Rebbe for advice on how to rectify his shortcomings.

“Fast six hundred times,” came the curt reply. The chossid gazed at the Rebbe in astonishment – “six hundred times?”

“Come now,” the Rebbe continued, “what do you think, fasting means not eating from sunrise to sundown? That would be starvation, not fasting! Rather, fasting means to work on oneself to perfection. Think everyday about your character for fifteen minutes, and I don’t mean to think Chassidus. Simply spend time contemplating your entity, your own existence. Restrict your speech.”

The chossid worked on the Rebbe’s directives for two years, devoting the allotted time each and every day as the Rebbe has instructed. He became a changed man.

When the Rebbe Rashab (R. Shalom Dov-Ber, 1860-1920) related this story to his son, the Frierdiker (“Previous”) Rebbe (R. Yosef Yitzchok, 1880-1950), he added: “Don’t think I mean to say that he was a changed man only in regard to his spiritual faculties. I mean a complete transformation, a metamorphosis. If you would have seen him yourself, you would have been greatly impressed by the unbelievable difference this ‘fasting’ made on him. His very nature changed!”

When the Frierdiker Rebbe repeated this story in 1944, he added: “There is a Talmudic expression – ‘this means to teach us,’ and this story has what to teach us. Namely, that every individual should think about his entity for fifteen minutes a day.”

RABBI NACHMAN'S SECLUDED DEVOTIONS

2009-10-21T14:42:00.002-04:00

From Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, “Rabbi Nachman’s Wisdom” (English translation of Shivachey HaRan and Sichos HaRan, penned by Reb Noson; Breslov Research Institute, 1973), “His Praises,” sec. 10, pp. 10-11.

Rabbi Nachman’s Secluded Devotions

The main way the Rebbe [Rabbi Nachman of Breslov] attained what he did was simply through prayer and supplication before G-d. He was very consistent in this. He would beg and plead in every way possible, asking that G-d have mercy and make him worthy of true devotion and closeness.

The thing that helped him most was his prayers in the language he usually spoke, which was Yiddish. He would find a secluded place and set it aside to express his thoughts to G-d. Speaking in his own language, he would beg and plead before G-d. He would make use of all sorts of arguments and logic, crying that it was fitting that G-d draw him close and help him in his devotions. He kept this up constantly, spending days and years engaged in such prayer.

His father’s house had a small garret, partitioned off as a storehouse for hay and feed. Here young Rabbi Nachman would hide himself, chanting Psalms and screaming quietly (see Sichos HaRan 16), begging G-d that he be worthy of drawing himself close to Him.

Besides this, Rabbi Nachman made use of every published prayer he could find. He went through all the books of prayers available, and there was not a prayer that he did not repeat countless times. He recited them all, the Psalms, the Sha’arey Tziyon (“Gates of Zion,” kabbalistic prayers by Rabbi Noson Nateh Hanover), the [supplementary] prayers printed in the large Siddurim. He poured out his heart in every possible prayer and supplication, even those printed in Yiddish for women. Not a single one was omitted.

The Rebbe also had the custom of reciting all the supplications following each day’s Ma’amodos (a compilation of daily readings from the Bible and Talmud). He would say the prayers for all seven days of the week at one time.

He also had the practice of chanting only the verses in the Psalms speaking of prayer and the cry to G-d. He would go through the entire Book of Psalms in one stretch, saying only those verses and leaving out the rest.

But beyond all this, the main thing was his own prayers, emanating from his heart in his own language. He would pray and argue before G-d, making up petitions and arguments as he went along. He would beg and plead that G-d make him worthy of true devotion. It was prayers such as these that helped the Rebbe to achieve his greatness. We heard this explicitly from the Rebbe’s holy lips.

CHASSIDIC WOMEN AND MEDITATION

2009-10-20T14:35:00.001-04:00

In a few Chassidic circles, women have been adept in the esoteric practices, as well as men. This is especially true of the families of certain rebbes, or Chassidic masters. For example, the story is told in Chabad of how a Chassid once went to deliver a message to Rebbetzin Rivkah (1833-1914), wife of the Rebbe Maharash (Rabbi Shmuel, fourth Rebbe in the lineage of Chabad-Lubavitch). When he arrived, he found the Rebbetzin in the midst of her morning prayers, so he waited in the next room until she had finished. However, he could hear her praying behind the door. He later related that when the Rebbetzin reached the "Shema" prayer, which declares our faith in G-d's Oneness, she stopped to meditate upon the word “echad” (one) for twenty minutes (Le'sheima Ozen).

Rebbe Nachman of Breslov's mother, Rebbetzin Feige (d. 1808) was a grand-daughter of the holy Baal Shem Tov, and sister of the illustrious Chassidic masters Rabbi Baruch of Medzibuzh and Rabbi Moshe Chaim Ephraim of Sudilkov. Her brothers held her in such high esteem that they called her “Feige the Prophetess.” It is said that the Baal Shem Tov taught his daughter, Rebbetzin Udel, certain combinations of Divine Names (yichudim) upon which she could meditate and commune with his soul after his passing. She, in turn, passed down these yichudim-meditations to her daughter, Rebbetzin Feige (Nevei Tzaddikim).

CREATION AND BITUL (NULLIFICATION OF EGO)

2009-10-19T07:34:00.001-04:00

From Reb Noson of Breslov, Likkutei Halakhos, Tefillas Arvis 4:7, as abridged in the Keren Yisrael Dov Odesser “Chumash Im Likkutei Halakhos,” Bereishis, p. 5. Posted in honor of Shabbos Bereishis.

Creation and Bitul (Nullification of Ego)

Translated by Dovid Sears

“In the beginning G-d (Elokim) created…” (Genesis 1:1). On this, our Sages homiletically explain: “At first it arouse in the Divine Thought to create the universe with the Attribute of Justice [corresponding to the Divine Name ‘Elokim’]. Seeing that the world would not be able to endure, however, He desisted and combined the Attribute of Mercy with that of Justice. [Thus, the verse which describes the creation of Adam uses both the Name Y-H-V-H, corresponding to G-d’s mercy, and the Name ‘Elokim.’] (Rashi, ad locum)

This may strike one as surprising. Doesn’t it clearly state throughout our holy books that G-d created the world out of His mercy and goodness, in order to demonstrate those attributes? On the face of it, this seems to contradict the teaching above that it first arose in the Divine Thought to create the universe with the Attribute of Justice.

However, in truth, there is no conflict. For the Blessed One desired to create the universe with the Attribute of Justice only out of His mercy and surpassing goodness. In this manner, due to the intensity of justice, the world would have nullified itself to the Blessed One with absolute self-abnegation (bitul). As Rebbe Nachman states in Likkutei Moharan I, 65, when the forces of harsh judgment and suffering prevail, one should nullify himself – and in so doing, one will gaze upon and merge into the Ultimate Reality, where all suffering and harsh judgments vanish.

Then we would have reached the ultimate goal of perceiving Divinity with the most profound and awesome vision, due to our having achieved true bitul – by virtue of the Attribute of Justice specifically. This is why it first arose in the Divine Thought to create the universe with the Attribute of Justice. To do so would have been an even greater demonstration of mercy, enabling us to achieve this degree of bitul. However, G-d foresaw that the world could not endure, since most people could not withstand this demand to nullify themselves completely from worldly vanities.

Even [under the present circumstances], when harsh judgments befall them, G-d forbid, most people are incapable of completely attaining true bitul. As it is written, “Those with insincere hearts bring about wrath; they do not cry out when He afflicts them” (Job 36:13); and as it is written, “[G-d’s wrath] scorched him from all around, but he refused to know; it burned within him, but he did not take it to heart” (Isaiah 42:25).

However, the tzaddikim and the upright can achieve this; fortunate are they!

THE MEANING OF “ECHAD (ONE)”

2009-10-19T07:29:00.005-04:00

From “Siyyag LeChokhmah,” an anthology on silence as a religious practice published by Mesilos HaTorah, Jerusalem (2000), p. 127. The “immersion in thought” mentioned below does not seem to be of an intellectual nature, but a meditative one.

The Meaning of "Echad (One)."

Translation by Dovid Sears

Sometimes Reb Menachem Mendel Kalish, Chassidic Rebbe of Vorki (d. 1868), would reach the level of hishpashtus ha-gashmiyus, severing his ties to the physical world, due to his practice of silence and deep meditation. Then his followers, among them Rabbi Moshe Kohen, would carry him to his private chamber and rouse him. Once it was hard to awaken him, and the Chassidim became extremely distressed.

Rabbi Moshe Kohen cried out, “Why is the Rebbe so fahrtracht (deeply immersed in thought)?”

Conscious of his surroundings again, the Rebbe replied, “If one knows the meaning of echad (One), it is impossible not to be immersed in thought.”

After Reb Menachem Mendel passed away, the saintly Rebbe of Biala, declared: “The Rebbe himself will lead us in the future, as well – for what did we hear from him? Words of Torah, he did not speak; rather, he illuminated us [in a way that transcended words]. And surely he will illuminate us in time to come!”

THE VAST DESERT OF SOLITUDE

2009-10-14T14:31:00.002-04:00

Reprinted with permission from Daf Yomi Review:

The Vast Desert of Solitude
by Yosef Peretz

Oh that I had wings like a dove! then would I fly away, and be at rest. Lo, then would I wander far off, I would dwell in the wilderness forever. (Tehilim 55:7)

When Rabbi Yosef Kahaneman - later known as the Ponivezher Rav, who raised the banner of Torah in Israel, was returning home to his parents he passed by the the town of Radin (in Poland pre-WWII). He later recounted:

"As I was passing by Radin, I asked myself how could I pass by the 'holy sanctuary' of the Chafetz Chaim without stopping there? I took a shortcut and arrived in Radin late in the afternoon. The Chafetz Chaim's house was dark.

"I entered and found no one there. I sat down on a bench and wondered what the Chafetz Chaim looked like and whether I would merit to see him. As I meditated, the Rebetzin entered and asked me what I wanted. I told her that I wished to see the Chafetz Chaim. She told me to wait awhile until he arrives. While waiting for the Chafetz Chaim, I heard a piercing cry from the upper floor, a cry that bespoke terrible pain. Seeing that I had become frightened, the Rebbetzin approached me and said: 'Sir don't be frightened. That's my husband praying for a woman in labor who is giving birth right now.' I immediately said to myself: 'Yoshe, how can you leave such a place in which dwells a man who is capable of such heartrending crying on behalf of others?!' So I decided to stay in Radin and study under him."

Compared to the previous generations, the service of prayer has almost completely disappeared. Many of the gedolim (leaders) of previous generations would regularly spend time in solitude and pour out their hearts to G-d.

The technological revolution has disconnected us with nature, and as a result, with ourselves and with G-d. The constant chatter of crowds of people, the endless noise of machines and electronic gadgets has barraged and cluttered our minds. Technology has also brought with it long work weeks at meaningless jobs, doing meaningless work resulting in millions of people with unprecedented dissatisfaction and mental illnesses.

To develop a proper awareness of G-d's presence (yira shamayim), a person needs to spend time alone. As long as he is with other people, or involved in activities, he can put the reality of G-d's presence aside so to speak. But when he finds himself alone, especially in raw nature, untouched by the hands of man, "the awesome presence of the King falls on him and his heart breaks (Talmud Berachos 34b, Rashi: 'dmatzli')." This is why the Talmud says (Berachos 5b) one should try to pray at the front of the synagogue with no separation between oneself and the wall. As long as there are other people in front of you who can see your face, you're not mentally alone and cannot turn to G-d properly (covering one's face with a tallis helps in this regard).

Of course, G-d is here with you always. He's here in this room right now. And one should pause and think for a moment about this. My teacher, Rabbi Moshe Lazerus, shlita (a Rosh Yeshiva and close student of Rav Avigdor Miller zt''l), taught us that it is crucial to spend ten minutes a day in seclusion and privacy in order to talk to Hashem. He used to tell us (to the effect of) "I don't know how you can daven (pray) or be religious for that matter, without having a personal relationship with Hashem. Who are you praying to? A concept? I empathize with you. Without a relationship with Him, prayer must be torture. Doing this makes Him real. G-d becomes real. The Torah becomes real, it comes alive. The Avos are suddenly real people that lived and not just stories. They're your relatives, your great-grandparents."

By the way, the procedure he recommended for this, is to lock yourself in a room every day for 5 or 10 minutes and talk to Him (no phones, etc., if possible put a "do not disturb" sign). As you talk to Him, imagine what you think He would say to you.

For example, thank Him for what you are grateful for, like health, food, good parents, etc. Then tell Him what you think He owes you ... Basically, to develop a personal relationship with Him in the tradition of the great baalei mussar.

I would also suggest returning to nature once a month for a few hours. Send the crowds away, go to the forests or to the mountains, and seek Him in receptive silence. Many of the great baalei mussar did this on a daily basis (the really great ones hid away for years). Observe the trees and flowers and animals and birds, the sea and clouds and sky and stars. It's a tremendous way to reconnect with Him. Hopefully, the barriers will drop, and you will see, you will make contact. You will feel the King's awesome presence and the infinite wisdom in His creation. That is the cure for loneliness. Generally, we seek to cure our loneliness through emotional dependence on people, through gregariousness and noise. That is no cure. Get back to things, get back to reality. Then you will know that your heart has brought you to the vast desert of solitude, there is noone there at your side, absolutely no one.

The truth is eventually you will lose every single person in your life, never to see them again. You will lose your parents, your wife, your siblings, your children, your friends - everybody. And you will be utterly alone.

Alone that is, except for the Almighty. Now's the time to build the relationship with Him.

The Chafetz Chaim once saw a very happy student in his yeshiva come to bid him farewell before returning to his parents for the festivals. The Chafetz Chaim turned to his disciples around him and said "See how happy this talmid is to be going back to his father's house. Is this not the way a Jew should feel when he is about to die and return to his Father in Heaven?" (Sparks of Mussar, p.218).

IN THE WILDERNESS

2009-09-29T04:22:00.001-04:00

"PRIMAL SCREAM" HISBODEDUS

2009-07-21T04:00:00.001-04:00

From Rabbi Perets Auerbach’s “The Science, Art and Heart of Hitbodedut.” This work-in-progress may be purchased by contacting the author by email: peretsz@gmail.com. We thank Rabbi Auerbach for permitting us to present excerpts from his writings here.

"Primal Scream" Hisbodedus

Rabbi Nachman taught: “The main thing is, ‘From the belly of She’ol [the deepest pit of hell] I screamed’ (Jonah 2:3)” (Likkutei Moharan II, 48). It is said that he went through the entire Tehillim saying only the verses about crying to God.

“I cry to God–I scream, I cry to God... I scream to You, O God” (Psalms 142:2, 6). “When I roar the whole day…” (ibid 32:3). “I roar from the crying moan of my heart” (ibid 38:9). “And it grieved Shmuel, and he screamed to God the entire night” (I Samuel 14:11). “And they screamed to God in their suffering, and He saved them from distresses” (Psalms 107:13, 19, 28).
The Zohar (II, 20b) tells that Shmuel abandoned all other types of prayer and only screamed. When things are difficult, a person groans. When they get more difficult, a person yells. When they get still more intense, a person screams. The depth of the scream depends upon the realization of how precarious the situation is. “And the children of Israel groaned from the servitude— and they screamed. And their cry rose to ELHYM (G-d) from the servitude. And ELHYM heard their wail...And ELHYM saw the children of Israel—and ELHYM knew” (Exodus 2:23-25).1

Why have we stopped screaming?

Sometimes the neshamah falls into such a state of concealment that a person cannot even cry and scream the way they need to. Here, too, one must use the “scream of the scream” to fix this problem. Cry out and ask to be able to scream.

“This entire world is a very narrow bridge,” said Rabbi Nachman (ibid.), and as long as the soul is here, it is in tremendous danger. Anyone who puts things in their proper perspective will be greatly concerned about how they will end up. If a wind begins to blow while you are walking a treacherous bridge, you will scream to be saved. Imagine hanging off a tall building—you hold on for dear life! Then an enemy comes and is about to step on your fingers... The more a person realizes potential injury, the more he will want to scream. The soul realizes the peril of being here. If you access it, it is possible to awaken a deep scream from the inner chambers of the heart. The more the one awakens the soul within, the more intensely he will cry for aid. This can reach to the very depths of existence and the entire tikkun (repair) of the universe; this is the “primal scream” of Adam realizing the damage he did through the sin of the Tree of Knowledge, and every soul’s portion in it (Sha’ar HaGilgulim, Hakdamah 1; cf. Shaar HaGemul, 9).

There are two ways that this primal scream can come out: in voice and in thought. The voice awakens the external world to realize its plight and also shout to God. Thought awakens the internal world to recognize the hazard and likewise cry for help.

Each has its own advantage. A voiced scream involves the body and its energy. Utilizing the body’s energies for a strong scream helps to redirect them above. A silent scream is bound up with a higher plane, the “World of Thought.” Its power is infinite. These are the “sounds of silence.” “Their heart screams to God” (Lamentations 2:18). Rabbi Nachman says that a person can mentally scream “from one end of the world to the other” (Chayei Moharan 241; cf. Sichot HaRan 16). The mind reaches to places that the body can’t go. There is a scream so deep from the depths of the heart that it transcends speech, cannot be voiced, and must remain silent (Likkutei Moharan II, 5). It is a most powerful sound, which can pierce the universe. “I call You from the depths, O God” (Psalms 130:1). From these depths, one can reach the Ein Sof. This is especially so during the Ten Days of Repentance, when the “ten depths” (Sefer Yetzirah 1:5) of existence are opened.

“Rabbi Yitzchak says, ‘[True teshuvah is when a person] returns before the Supernal King, and prays his prayer from the depths of the heart. That is what is meant by the verse, ‘I call to You, God, from the depths’ (op cit.).

“Rabbi Abba says, ‘I call to You God from the very depths’—this means that there is a hidden place above, and it is the ‘depth of the well’ [i.e., Ein Sof/the Infinite One]. And from this [source] flow out rivers [from the sefirah of Chesed/Lovingkindness] and springs [from the sefirah of Gevurah/Might] to every side [of the array of sefirot]. And that depth of depths is called ‘teshuvah.’ One who wants to return and be cleansed from his sins must call from this depth to the Holy One, blessed be He. That is what is meant by the verse, ‘I call to You, God, from the very depths’ ” (Zohar III, 70a).

One who screams from the innermost point of the soul awakens the Infinite Light to flow to the self and fill all aspects of one’s being with Divine goodness.

At times, one may feel so distant from God that He may seem not to be there at all. This is the time to utilize the “Ayeh” scream (see Likkutei Moharan II, 12). “Where (Ayeh) are You?!” This fixes the problem at its root. For as soon as you scream “Where?” this means that He must be present. It is the first step to taking off the veil, revealing the Godliness in the very place you have fallen, and reconnecting to it. This is a scream so deep that it reaches to the highest sefirah of Keter (“Crown”). The lowest fall becomes transformed into an ascent so high that it reaps dividends many times over. The whole reason for the fall is just to come to that special scream.

At times, the mochin (“mentalities,” potential states of mind) are in an embryonic state. One learns and doesn’t understand; or one doesn’t understand anything new in the material; or there is an unanswerable question. This is also the case when the flow of Divine inspiration stops. However, there is a principal that “voice awakens intention” (Kitzur Shulchan Arukh 6:1, citing Sh’nei Luchot HaBrit). Then it is good for a person to scream. This can bring the mochin back into active consciousness.

“And the voice is the voice of Ya’akov” (Genesis 27:22). Dovid HaMelekh mentions seven “voices” over water: “The voice of God is on the water...” (Psalms 29:3). The best thing is to scream seventy times4 - just as a woman screams seventy times before giving birth (Zohar III, 249b). There are seventy words in the psalm, “God will answer you on the day of suffering...” (Psalms 20:2). Therefore, it is beneficial for the husband to say this psalm while his wife is in labor (Likkutei Moharan II, 2). It draws the answer—birth. So do the seventy corresponding screams draw the “answer of answers” to all problems— the birth of awareness. It can reach so high as to draw in the birth of a new makif, a new level of the encompassing light.

RABBI ISAAC LURIA'S YEARS OF SECLUSION

2009-07-06T04:41:00.002-04:00

From Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, “Meditation and Kabbalah” (Samuel Weiser or Jason Aronson editions), p. 206-208, based on biographical material found in Shivchey HaAri, Emek HaMelekh, and Toldot HaAri. Rabbi Isaac Luria (1534-1572), also known as the “Ari” (meaning “lion,” but also an acronym for “Ashkenazi Rabbi Yitzchak”), was the foremost kabbalist of the sixteenth century, whose profound teachings forever transformed the Jewish mystical tradition.

Rabbi Isaac Luria’s Years of Seclusion

[The Ari's] father died while he was still a child. Because of poverty, he went to Egypt, where he lived with his wealthy uncle. His brilliance continued to shine in dialectic (pilpul) and logic.

By the time he was fifteen, his expertise in Talmud had overwhelmed all the sages in Egypt. At this time he married his uncle's daughter.

After he was married, he spent seven years meditating (hitboded) with his master, Rabbi Betzalel Ashkenazi [author of the classic Talmudic commentary, Shittah Mekubetzet]. He then meditated alone for six years.

He then added to this, meditating and reaching higher levels of holiness. This he did for two years straight, in a house near the Nile. There he would remain alone, utterly isolated– not speaking to any human being.

The only time he would return home would be on the eve of the Sabbath, just before dark. But even at home, he would not speak to anyone, even to his wife. When it was absolutely necessary for him to say something, he would say it in the least possible number of words, and then he would speak only in the Holy Tongue (Hebrew).

He progressed in this manner and was worthy of Ruach HaKodesh (the holy spirit). At times, Elijah revealed himself and taught him the mysteries of the Torah.

He was also worthy for his soul to ascend every night, and troops of angels would greet him to safeguard his way, bringing him to the heavenly academies. These angels would ask him which academy he chose to visit. Sometimes it would be that of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, and other times he would visit the academies of Rabbi Akiba or Rabbi Eliezer the Great. On occasion he would also visit the academies of the ancient Prophets.

Rabbi Chaim Vital (1543-1620), his foremost disciple, attested (Introduction to the “Tree of Life”):

“[The Ari] was overflowing with Torah. He was thoroughly expert in the Bible, Mishnah, Talmud, Pilpul, Midrash, Agadah, Workings of Creation, and Workings of the Merkava (Divine Chariot). He was expert in the conversation of trees, the conversation of birds, and the speech of angels. He could read faces in the manner outlined in the Zohar. He could discern all that any individual had done, and could see what they would do in the future. He could read people's thoughts, often before the thought even entered the individual's mind. He knew future events, and was aware of everything happening here on earth, and what was decreed in heaven.

“He knew the mysteries of reincarnation, who had been born previously, and who was here for the first time. He could look at a person and tell him how he was connected to the Supernal Man, and how he was related to Adam. He could read wondrous things in the light of a candle or in the flame of a fire.

“With his eyes he gazed and was able to see the souls of the righteous, whether those who had died recently, or those who had lived in ancient times. With these he studied the true mysteries. By a person's odor he was able to know all that he had done, an ability that the Zohar attributes to the ‘Holy Child.’ It was as if all these mysteries were lying in his bosom, ready to be used whenever he desired. He did not have to meditate to seek them out.

“All this we saw with our own eyes. These are not things that we heard from others. They were wondrous things, [the like of which] had not been seen on earth since the time of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai.

“None of this was attained through the Practical Kabbalah, heaven forbid. There is a strong prohibition against using these arts. Instead, it came automatically, as a result of his piety and asceticism, after many years of study in both the ancient and newer Kabbalistic texts, He then increased his piety, asceticism, purity and holiness until he reached a level where Elijah [the Prophet] would constantly reveal himself to him, speaking to him ‘mouth to mouth,’ and teaching him these mysteries.

“This is the same thing that had happened to the Ra’avad [Rabbi Abraham ben David of Posqueres, 1120-1198], as [Rabbi Menachem] Recanti (1223-1290) states. Even though true prophecy no longer exists, Ruach HaKodesh is still here, manifest through Elijah. It is as the prophet Elijah taught his disciples, commenting on the verse, “Deborah was a prophetess” (Judges 4:4): “I call heaven and earth to bear witness, that any individual, man or woman, Jew or Gentile, freeman or slave, can have Ruach HaKodesh bestowed upon him. It all depends on his deeds.”

ON DIVINE VISIONS

2009-07-06T04:30:00.000-04:00

From Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, “Meditation and Kabbalah” (Samuel Weiser or Jason Aronson editions), p. 26-27. Rav Hai Gaon (939-1038) was the last exilarch, i.e., head of the Babylonian academy at Pumbeditha in the period following the redaction of the Talmud. His rulings in Jewish law were definitive in his day; in addition, he was reputed by medieval kabbalists to have been a master of the mystical tradition.

Cited in “HaKotev” on Ein Yaakov, Chagigah 12b, based on a responsum in Teshuvot ha-Ge'onim.

Rav Hai Gaon on Divine Visions

Many sages maintain that one who possesses all the necessary qualifications has methods through which he can gaze at the Merkava (Divine Chariot) and peek into the chambers on high. One must first fast for a certain number of days. He then places his head between his knees, and whispers into the ground many songs and praises known from tradition.

From his innermost being and its chambers he will then perceive the Seven Chambers. In his vision, it will be as if he is entering one chamber after another, gazing at what is in each one.

There are two tractates in which this is taught. These are called the Greater Hekhalot and the Lesser Hekhalot, as is well known.

It is with regard to such an experience that the Talmud teaches, “Four entered the Orchard” (Chagigah 12b). The chambers are likened to an orchard and are given this name. The four who entered the Merkava and passed through the Chambers are likened to people entering an orchard....

It is taught that Ben Azzai gazed and died. This is because it was his time to leave the world. It is also taught that Ben Zoma gazed and was stricken. This means that he became insane because of the confounding visions that his mind could not tolerate. He was like the “stricken ones,” regarding which the 91st Psalm was written (Shabbat 15b).

When the Talmud states that the “Other” [Rabbi Elisha ben Avuyah] “cut his plantings,” it is again using the allegory of the orchard. Since one of the four did irreparable damage, he is likened to one who enters an orchard and cuts down its trees. The Other assumed that there are two Authorities, very much like the Magii, who believe in Ormuzd and Ahriman, as well as independent domains of good and evil, like light and darkness. This is the intent of the Talmud.

Rabbi Akiba was the most perfect of them all. He gazed properly, not exceeding his limitations, and his mind was able to encompass these mighty confounding visions. God gave him power so that as long as he gazed he kept proper thoughts in his mind and maintained a proper mental state.

This was known to all the early sages and none denied it. They maintained that God would accomplish wonders and fearsome things through the saints, just as He did through the prophets. They do not deny the Talmudical accounts of miracles, such as those involving Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa and the like (Berakhot 34b).

When Mar Rav Samuel Gaon [who headed the academy between 730 and 748 c.e.] and others like him flourished, they began to read the books of the philosophers. They claimed that such visions were only seen by the Prophets, and that only the Prophets could invoke miracles. They denied all the accounts which told of miracles occurring to the saints. They say that this is not Law. The same is true of the account of Rabbi Akiba's gazing into the Chambers, and the account of Rabbi Nehuniah ben Hakana and Rabbi Ishmael. Regarding all these, they say it is not the Law.

But our opinion remains that God does wonders and miracles to His saints, and also allows them to see the Chambers.

THE LADDER OF ASCENT

2009-07-06T04:21:00.000-04:00

From Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, “Meditation and Kabbalah” (Samuel Weiser or Jason Aronson editions), p. 111-114. Footnotes have been omitted for this online version.

Rabbi Judah Albotini: The Ladder of Ascent

The teachings of [Rabbi Abraham] Abulafia (1240-1291) are known to have come to the Holy Land through the author of Shaarey Tzedek, and it appears that they took firm root there. Over two hundred years later, we find one of the prominent sages of the Holy Land, a chief rabbi of Jerusalem, involved in these mysteries and authoring an important book on Abulafia's teachings. This is none other than Rabbi Judah Albotini (1453-1519), author of Sulam HaAliyah (“Ladder of Ascent”).

Albotini is known to Talmudic scholars as the author of a supercommentary on Maimonides’ commentary on the Mishnah. This was published by Rabbi Shlomo ldni (1567-1626), author of another important commentary on the Mishnah. Written in 1501, this supercommentary is included in the most important edition of the Mishnah. Not as well-known is Albotini’s monumental commentary on Maimonides’ code, which exists only in manuscript.

Not too much is known of the personal life of Albotini, other than the fact that his father, Moshe Albotini, was a prominent scholar in Lisbon. It is highly probable that the family was exiled in 1496, during the general expulsion of Jews from Portugal. This is significant, since Rabbi Judah Chayit, a strong opponent of Abulafia’s teachings, also left Portugal during this same expulsion. The fact that Chayit found it necessary to denounce Abulafia’s writings indicates that they enjoyed a degree of popularity in his homeland.

Albotini migrated to the Holy Land, and by 1509, we find him as a member of the Jerusalem academy, where he signed an ordinance exempting scholars from the head tax. He succeeded Rabbi Jacob of Triel as head of the Jerusalem Academy, making him the official head of all the Rabbis of Jerusalem. It would appear that Abulafia’s school of meditative Kabbalah was sufficiently accepted in Jerusalem at the time that a practitioner and teacher of these methods could be chosen as a chief Rabbi. A short time later, we find another teacher of these methods, Rabbi Joseph Tzayach, also holding a rabbinical post in Jerusalem.

A manuscript of Sulam HaAliyah was in the hands of the great Kabbalist, Rabbi Sasoon bekhor Moshe Presiado (d. 1903), and from what he writes, he actually intended to publish it. Although he never succeeded in doing so, a number of key chapters have been published in scholarly journals. Several manuscripts of this book exist, both in libraries and in private collections.

In this book, Albotini speaks about the Meditative Kabbalists (Mekubalim HaMitbodedim), as if they were a well-established group in his time. Speaking about other books on the subject of letter manipulation (tzeruf) that had recently been written, he warns that they contain many errors. He is thoroughly familiar with Abulafia’s system, upon many of whose teachings he expands, presenting them in a clear and well-ordered manner. In two places, he mentions Abulafia’s Chayay Olam HaBah (“Life of the Future World”) by name.

The first few chapters of the book deal mostly with word and letter manipulation (tzeruf) drawing heavily on Abulafia's works. Because this involves the letters of the Hebrew alphabet, it is virtually impossible to do justice to this method in English. The individual interested in pursuing the subject further can find an excellent summary in the published works of the Ramak.

Another idea that Albotini discusses in detail is that of “jumping” (kefitzah) and “skipping” (dilug). Although this is mentioned by Abulafia, and the method was undoubtedly used by him, he does not present a clear picture how one makes use of it. Albotini not only clearly describes these techniques within Abulafia’s system of tzeruf, but he also provides a number of examples showing how they are used.

Briefly, “skipping” consists of a sort of free association, using any one of the standard methods of letter manipulation. This can consist of simple letter permutation, the use of ciphers, or finding other words with similar numerical values (gematria). Words can also be expanded in a number of ways, the simplest being to spell out different letters of the word. As long as one is making use of a single system, such as gematria for example, he is said to be “skipping.” When he goes from one system of letter manipulation to another, then he is said to be “jumping.” All of this was seen as an important meditative technique through which one could attain a high level of enlightenment.

An important prerequisite for attaining the meditative experience is stoicism (hishtavut), and this is discussed at great length by Albotini. This has been discussed by a number of later kabbalists, but Abulafia only speaks about it in passing, writing, “One who has attained true passion (cheshek) is not influenced by the blessings or curses of others. It is as if they were speaking in a language that he does not understand.” Albotini's teachings regarding stoicism, however, seems to come from Rabbi Isaac of Acco, who speaks of this idea at length. This is of particular significance, since it would indicate that Albotini was a student of Rabbi Isaac of Acco as well as of Abulafia.

Albotini also expands on Abulafia's discussion of Hewing (chatzivah) and Engraving (chakikah), mentioned in the Sefer Yetzirah. When a person reaches a high meditative level, “the mind is no longer concealed in the prison of the physical faculties, and it emerges ... entering the spiritual domain.” In this domain, the individual may see various visions or letter combinations, and the connotation of Hewing is that he “splits” and analyzes these visions while still in a meditative state. Engraving then implies that he “engraves” these revelations in his soul so that they are never forgotten.

Although Albotini speaks of a number of standard meditative techniques, Albotini maintained that any proper teaching could serve as the subject of one's meditation. He thus writes, “Those who meditate (hitboded) concentrate on an idea or on a very deep lesson. They close their eyes, and virtually nullify all their faculties in order to allow their hidden intellect to emerge from potential to action. They then absorb the lesson, permanently engraving it in their Soul.”

Through the use of Divine Names in meditation, one can channel extremely powerful spiritual forces. Albotini writes that Moses made use of this to save Israel, and that “with the power of the Divine Names, which he pronounced in his prayers, he was able to turn back the anger and fury.” More remarkable, he states that the Ten Martyrs could have saved themselves by using these Names, and that the sages could have even prevented the destruction of Jerusalem at the hand of the Babylonians and Romans. But, seeing that this had been God's decree, they refrained from doing anything.

The Talmud (Ketubot 111a) speaks of three oaths that Israel made not to improperly hasten the coming of the Messiah. This is based on the verse, “I bind you by an oath, 0 daughters of Jerusalem . . . that you not awaken, that you not arouse the love, until it is desired” (Song of Songs 3:5). There has been much discussion of this oath, and some rabbis have even used it as a refutation of Zionism.

Albotini provides a very novel interpretation of this oath, saying that the great masters of Kabbalah meditation were bound by an oath not to use their methods to hasten the redemption. He thus writes, “Even though the coming of the Messiah is a great concept, necessary for the rectification of all Universes, the sages and saints who knew the mystery of God’s name were bound by an oath not to arouse the redemption until they knew that God desired that it should occur.”

In general, Albotini warns against pronouncing any of the Divine Names, even those discussed by Abulafia. Anticipating the Ari, he understands that, while earlier generations may have been able to purify themselves sufficiently so that they could actually pronounce the Names, later generations are no longer able to do this. But still, he maintains that it is not actually necessary to pronounce the Names, and that much can be accomplished by merely knowing them and pondering their significance.

This is evidenced from the verse, “He was enraptured in Me, I will bring him forth, I will raise him up, because he knew My Name” (Psalms 91:14). Albotini notes that the verse does not say, “he pronounces My name,” but rather, it says, “he knows My name.” He concludes, “from this we see that the main thing is the knowledge of the Divine Names, of their existence, essence, and meaning.” A similar explanation is also provided to the verse, “Before they call I will answer them” (Isaiah 65:24). “Even though one concentrates on a given name and only thinks about it, without ‘calling’ and actually pronouncing it, he will be answered.”

RABBI MOSHE CHAIM LUZZATTO: ON HISBODEDUS

2009-06-12T06:40:00.003-04:00

Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto (“Ramchal”): On Hisbodedus

From “Mesilas Yesharim/The Path of the Just”

Separation as practiced in custom is hisbodedus– seclusion and separation from society, in order to free the heart to the service [of G-d] and to reflect upon it properly." (Chap. 14, “The Elements of Separation”)

***

The most valuable of all [means] is seclusion—hisbodedus— because just as one removes from his eyes the subjects of this world, he also removes the desire for them from his heart. King David has already praised hisbodedus when he said (Tehilim 55, 7-8): "Who would give me the wings of a dove so that I could fly and dwell far off and lie in the desert forever, selah." And we find the prophets Eliyahu and Elisha choosing their place in the mountains because of their practice of seclusion and hisbodedus. And our wise sages, the earlier ones, of blessed memory, walked in their footsteps, because they found this medium to be the most proper means to acquire perfection and separation, in order to prevent themselves from being influenced by the inanity of their fellow man (Chap. 15, “The Means to Acquire Separation”).

***

That which helps acquire this trait [of holiness] is hisbodedus and a lot of self-discipline and separation. This is done to get rid of distractions; then his soul can grow in strength, and he can cleave, bonding with the Creator (Chap. 26, “The Trait of Holiness”).

DIRECTING THE HEART

2009-06-12T06:34:00.001-04:00

From Rabbi Tal Zwecker’s work-in-progress, Sefer HaHisbodedus, a collection of essays and translations on what the author describes as “the forgotten path of self-perfection and character development through seclusion and meditation.” Rabbi Zwecker is seeking sponsors for this important project. He may be reached through his website. We thank Rabbi Zwecker for permitting us to post several of his translations here.

Directing the Heart

Rabbi Yaakov ben Asher, author of the classic “Arba’ah Turim/Four Rows.”

(also quoted by Rabbi Yosef Karo, author of the Shulchan Aruch/Code of Jewish Law, which is based on the Tur.)

He who prays must direct his heart to the meaning of the words that his lips speak; he should think that the Divine Presence (Shechinah) is opposite him, and he should divest himself of all distracting thoughts until his thoughts and intentions are pure and refined towards prayer. He should think that if he were standing before a flesh and blood king he would organize and prepare his words and concentrate on them well, so that he not stumble, heaven forbid. How much more so before the King of all kings, the Holy One, Blessed be He, who investigates all thoughts.

This is what the Chassidim and men of great deeds would do: they would meditate in seclusion and concentrate in their prayers until they divested themselves of their physical form, strengthening their mental faculty, or the power of the mind, until they reached a level close to prophecy (Orach Chaim 98:1).

DWELLING IN CAVES

2009-06-12T06:31:00.001-04:00

From Rabbi Tal Zwecker’s work-in-progress, Sefer HaHisbodedus, a collection of essays and translations on what the author describes as “the forgotten path of self-perfection and character development through seclusion and meditation.” Rabbi Zwecker is seeking sponsors for this important project. He may be reached through his website. We thank Rabbi Zwecker for permitting us to post several of his translations here.

Dwelling in Caves

Rabbi Yonason Eybeshutz

Ya’aros Devash

The earlier pietists (chassidim) would always choose to sit dwelling in caves and caverns in order to meditate in seclusion (le-hisboded) and to distance themselves from people who habituate and cause one to sin. The prophet himself cried out (Yirmeyah 9:1), “Who will place me in the desert?” And Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai, peace be upon him, sat in a cave for several years. [One may ask,] couldn't he find somewhere else to hide from Caesar's decree [against Torah study]? It is well elaborated in the Talmud that the highest angels constantly surrounded him, as is known. Rather, he chose this place to dwell in order to acquire perfection; therefore, once he went out, he acquired a high level surpassing even that of Rabbi Pinchas ben Yair, as is related in tractate Shabbos, page 33b. Afterwards, he and many of his generation dwelled in caves learning Torah, as we find often in the Zohar regarding other sages at the time of Rashbi, as well as other tales related in the Zohar about sages who always dwelt in caves and crevices in order to acquire [the trait of] perfection and to distance themselves from people (Part 1, Derush/Sermon 14 for the days of Selichos).

THE HOLY GARMENT

2009-06-12T06:25:00.002-04:00

From Rabbi Tal Zwecker’s work-in-progress, Sefer HaHisbodedus, a collection of essays and translations on what the author describes as “the forgotten path of self-perfection and character development through seclusion and meditation.” Rabbi Zwecker is seeking sponsors for this important project. He may be reached through his website. We thank Rabbi Zwecker for permitting us to post several of his translations here.

The Holy Garment

Rabbi Chaim Yosef David Azulai (“Chida”)

Avodas HaKodesh

The root of everything is hisbodedus, for it is a great and lofty medium to merit holiness. I will give you a hint from earlier great sages: the verse says, “Bahd kodesh yilbash, wear a holy garment.” “Bahd” can allude to the root of the word “hisbodedus.” Meaning, if one engages in the practice of hisbodedus, he will be clothed in holiness. Similarly, the acrostic formed by the first letters of the Hebrew verse “know Him in all your ways -- bekol derachecha da'ehu” spell “badad,” meaning “isolated” or “secluded.” This is because when one engages in isolation, he will cleave unto Hashem even in his physical needs (Tziporen Shamir 51).

PRAYING WITH THE UNIVERSE

2009-06-11T07:11:00.000-04:00

From Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, “A Call to the Infinite” (Moznaim), p. 122.

Praying With the Universe
Rabbi Zechariah of Jaroslaw, Darkei Tzedek 39

When you pray, have in mind to arouse the letters with which were created heaven and earth, all creatures above and below, and all universes. If you do this, then all the universes and all creation will join you in your worship.

When you do this, you arouse these letters, which are the life-force of all creation, and they join your prayers. Thus your thoughts can elevate all creation, and earth alike...

The Baal Shem Tov once told his disciples, “You must even pray for a bird that might be flying by and singing.”

A MEDITATION ROOM

2009-06-11T07:08:00.001-04:00

From Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, “A Call to the Infinite” (Moznaim), p. 106.

A Meditation Room
(Rabbi Nachman of Breslov, Sichoth HaRan 274, 275)

It is very good to have a special room set aside for Torah study and prayer. Such a room is especially beneficial for meditation and conversation with God.

It is very good even to sit in such a room. [The atmosphere itself is beneficial, even if you sit there and do nothing].

Even if you do not have a special room, you can still seclude yourself and converse with God. You can create your own “special room” under your prayer shawl. Just drape your Tallith over your eyes and converse with God as you will.

You can also seclude yourself with God in bed under the covers. This was King David’s custom, alluded to in the psalm, “I pray every night on my bed in tears” (Psalms 6:7).

You can also converse with God while sitting before an open book. Let others think that you are merely reading or studying. There are many other ways in which you can accomplish this if you truly want to express your thoughts to God. Above all else, this is the root and foundation of holiness and repentance.

SPIRITUAL ASCENT THROUGH PRAYER

2009-06-11T07:04:00.004-04:00

From Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, The Light Beyond: Adventures in Hassidic Thought (Moznaim), pp. 213-214. Footnotes have been omitted from this online version.

Self-Nullification Through Prayer
Maggid of Mezeritch

Think of yourself as nothing, and totally forget yourself when you pray. Only have in mind that you are praying for the Divine Presence.

You can then enter the Universe of Thought, a state that is beyond time. Everything in this realm is the same, life and death, land and sea . . . But in order to enter the Universe of Thought where all is the same, you must relinquish your ego, and forget all your troubles.

You can not reach this level if you attach yourself to physical, worldly things. You are then attached to the division between good and evil, which is included in the seven days of creation. How then can you approach a level above time, where absolute unity reigns.

Furthermore, if you consider yourself as "something," and ask for your own needs, God cannot clothe Himself in you. God is infinite, and no vessel can hold Him at all, except when a person makes himself like Nothing (Maggid Devarav LeYaakov, 159).

***

In prayer, you must place all your strength in the words, going from letter to letter until you completely forget your body. Thinking how the letters permute and combine with each other, you will have great delight.

If this is a great physical delight, it is certainly a spiritual delight. This is the Universe of Formation (Yetzirah), [the world of speech]. The letters then enter your thoughts, and you do not even hear the words you speak. This is the Universe of Creation (Beriyah) [the world of thought]. You then come to the level of Nothingness, where all your [senses and] physical powers are nullified. This is the Universe of Nearness (Atziluth), the Attribute of Wisdom (Maggid Devarav LeYaakov, 97).

AFTER BITUL

2009-06-03T06:42:00.002-04:00

From Rabbi Ozer Bergman, “Where Earth and Heaven Kiss: A Guide to Rebbe Nachman’s Path of Meditation” (Breslov Research Institute), pp. 251-254. Footnotes have been eliminated for this online version.

After Bitul
Based on Likutey Moharan I, 65

Nothwithstanding the loftiness of bitul (nullification of ego), the truth is that God desires your worship more than your bitul. The experience of bitul will open your eyes to the reality of a Unity in which all is good and everything that happens is good. But you can’t yet live in that Unity all the time. It would be like trying to buy a house with a futuristic currency—this is not the time or the place where it can be spent.

The point of bitul is the return from it. As important as “getting there” is, coming back with something good and living right as a result is even more important. When you come back from that state, you can take the light and fashion it into proper measures and vessels. The goal is the running to bitul and returning from it with an awareness of God that the residue of bitul enables.

Rebbe Nachman provides you with an idea of what degree of awareness your post-bitul life can have. He tells you that the NoPlace is right here. You can get there with hitbodedut.

Your mind can withstand any temptation. It is written, “God gives wisdom to the wise” (Daniel 2:21). Every person has the potential for wisdom. This potential must be used. With it alone you can overcome all temptations. But God also gives wisdom to the “wise”—this can bring you even greater strength.

Certain impurities in the mind must be subdued. When you do this, you will not want for anything in this world. Everything will be the same to you. It is written, “When you walk it will guide you, when you lie down it will watch over you, and when you awaken, it will champion you” (Proverbs 6:22).

When you have purified your thoughts, there is no difference between this world, the grave and the next world. When you only desire God and His Torah, all are the same. In all three you can grasp onto God and His Torah. But if you grasp at this world, there is an agonizing difference. This world is spread before you, while the grave is a tight, cramped place. If you purify your mind, all will be the same.

So, you’ve finished your hitbodedut for the day and you come back from bitul. Where are you going to put all that Infinite Light? Into the Torah. Rebbe Nachman teaches that those who succeed in reaching bitul return with a residue of the Infinite Light. As we wrote earlier, God is beyond human ken; no mind can be wrapped around what He is. Only through bitul can He be apprehended. The crux of revealing God’s presence in the world depends on securely protecting the memory of that experience.

The Torah you learn will give you the ability to protect and retain the light that remains from your experience of bitul in your intellect and emotions. When you study the Torah with renewed enthusiasm, viewing it in a new light and using it as a springboard for further hitbodedut, you will complete and perfect your bitul, just as you begin to get ready for the next go-round.

The experience of bitul is exhilarating, to say the least. You may be tempted to downplay the importance of trying to “bottle it” within the letters and words of Torah. After all, you saw the light. True enough, but one can still forget something he saw.

Because memory protection is so critical, you must be vigilant about farther sanctifying your mind, rejecting the evil and the unholy so that your brain remains a proper Ark in which the Torah can rest. Without proper sanctification, her great light cannot be contained. And then you forget.

How much Torah must you learn to retain the experience of bitul? Reb Noson points out that a Torah scroll that lacks even one letter is invalid, because it cannot and does not fully hold the light. Therefore, the more holy words of Torah that you speak, the more letters you possess with which to contain the residue of bitul. The more words of Torah that you learn and the more prayers that you speak, the better you will remember what you experienced and the more you can reveal Godliness. Therefore, speak as much Torah as you can.

Bitul is neither a place visited only once in a lifetime nor a permanent residence. It is like a home base which one needs to visit every so often, in a back-and-forth manner:

You make vessels to hold the light.

You touch it and step back.

Repeat.

Rebbe Nachman warns that each time you come back from bitul, equipped with the capability of making the world a better place, the challenges you face will be more difficult and painful, the suffering more intense. Because bitul redirects your focus to the ultimate good that lies behind everything, your return can come as quite a shock, magnifying the problems of this world even more. You must ensure that your joie du Judaisme—the joy that results from your experience of realizing that all is good—is in proper working order in order to survive and succeed. The greater the suffering, the stronger the bitul must be. When it was necessary, Moshe was willing to go so far as to sacrifice every trace of his existence.

When God threatened to annihilate the Israelites for the crime of the Golden Calf, Moshe argued with God to forgive them. If God wouldn’t, Moshe said, “Erase me” (Exodus 32:32).

One of the Rebbe’s followers was speaking to him about a marriage proposal he had received. He told the Rebbe, “There is no place for me there.”

Rebbe Nachman answered, “When a person has a Jewish heart, he has nothing to do with space. The heart is Godliness, and the world is located within God.”

HITBODEDUT IN THE WRITINGS OF RABBI MOSES CORDOVERO

2009-05-28T04:20:00.001-04:00

The following is an excerpt from Dr. Moshe Idel’s seminal essay, “Hitbodedut as Concentration in Ecstatic Kabbalah,” which was first printed in his pioneering “Studies in Ecstatic Kabbalah” (SUNY). Footnotes have been omitted from this online version.

Hitbodedut in the Writings of Rabbi Moses Cordovero

As we have seen, several motifs relating to hitbodedut which originated in the circle of Rabbi Abraham Abulafia, reappeared at the beginning of the sixteenth century in the writings of two Kabbalists who were among the exiles from Spain and Portugal: Rabbi Judah Albotini and Rabbi David Ibn Zimra, both of whom lived and were active in Jerusalem. One must ask whether it is merely coincidence that interest in hitbodedut reemerged in sixteenth-century Palestine, after it was associated with Kabbalists active in the late thirteenth and the early fourteenth century who had a certain relationship to the land of Israel. This question becomes more serious in the light of the fact that the Spanish Kabbalists of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries almost completely ignored the teaching of Rabbi Abraham Abulafia, and even during the generation of the Expulsion he was still regarded as the “black sheep” of Kabbalah in the eyes of many Spanish Kabbalists. The renewed interest of Palestinean Kabbalists of Spanish origin in the Kabbalah of Abulafia and its offshoots points toward their encounter with the Eastern kabbalistic heritage, which combined prophetic Kabbalah with Jewish-Sufi pietism. The presumption that such a kabbalistic tradition, whose traces were lost for a period of slightly less than two hundred years, did exist may also explain the interest of the Safed Kabbalists during the latter half of the sixteenth century in Abulafia and Rabbi Isaac of Acre’s doctrine of hitbodedut, I would conjecture that we are speaking here not only of the preservation and study of Abulafia’s writings but also of a living kabbalistic tradition-which may explain the origins of Albotini’s Sulam ha-‘Aliyah and the centrality of hitbodedut and letter-combination among the Kabbalists of Safed from the middle of the sixteenth century on. In contrast, Spanish Kabbalah on the eve of the Expulsion, such as the circle of the author of Sefer ha-Meshiv, was much involved with techniques of revelation, including incantations for dream questions and formulas for automatic writing—concerns that were continued in the Kabbalah of Safed. However, as opposed to Abulafia, they did not emphasize the relationship between hitbodedut and letter-combination. In the writings of Rabbi Moshe Cordovero, we hear for the first time of an integration of Abulafia’s doctrines within an overall summary of Spanish Kabbalah—namely, in his book Pardes Rimmonim. As opposed to the comprehensive work of Rabbi Meir Ibn Gabbai, which is based almost entirely on Spanish Kabbalah, Cordovero includes themes and quotations from the writings of Abraham Abulafia, giving them a standing unknown among the Spanish exilic Kabbalists active outside the land of Israel. This incorporation is quite clear in the discussion of hitbodedut, and its implications for the development of Kabbalah will be treated later in our discussion. There is no doubt that the Safed Kabbalists had copies of several of the most important writings of Abulafia and his disciples. Thus, for example, we read in Rabbi Moshe Cordovero’s commentary on the Zohar passage known as “the Sabba (grandfather) of Mishpatim”:

“And as ADaM (man—i.e., the letters DM— follows alphabetical order, [its letters symbolizing] world [i.e., location] year [i.e., time], soul [i.e., personhoodl, until he attaches himself to the secret of neshamah, ruah, nefesh [i.e., the three levels of soul], that is NRN, the secret of ShN, in the secret of the letters which are transmuted in his mouth, and the secret of the vocalization signs, and the secret of the hitbodedut brought down to man by them, as is written in the book Shaarey Zedeq by Rabbi Abraham Abulafia, author of Sefer Hayyey ha-‘Olam ha-Ba.” (MS Cincinnati 586, fol. 45b)

This passage indicates that Cordovero had before him two of the principal works of prophetic Kabbalah; from them he learned, among other things, the secret of hitbodedut, which, as we have seen above, is connected with the combinations of letters and of vowels. Through hitbodedut, the soul becomes attached to the supernal hypostases known as neshamah, ruah, nefesh. We have here a Neoplatonic formulation of the understanding of devequt, influenced not a little by the approach of the author of Sha’arey Zedeq. A closer examination of the meaning of the word hitbodedut in this text would be worthwhile. It is clear that the stage portrayed here is one reached by the practitioner of concentration after the process of zeruf and not before it, which differs from the texts discussed until now. Here, hitbodedut is transformed into the final stage before devequt. One should compare Cordovero’s unique use of this term with that of his disciple, Rabbi Hayyim Vital, who writes in the book Sha’arey Qedushah, apparently in the name of his teacher:

“ ‘The sons of prophets, who had before them drum and pipe, etc.’ [I Samuel 10:5] for by the sweetness of the sound of the music hitbodedut rests upon them, by the pleasantness of the sound, and they cast off their souls. And then the musician ceases his playing, but the prophetic disciples remain in the same supernal state of devequt, and they prophesy.” (MS British Library 749, fol. 15b)

In this quotation from Vital, as in Cordovero, hitbodedut occurs as a result of the use of a certain technique, and in the wake of this concentration the soul attains the state of devequt, This intermediate situation may signify a kind of abnegation of the senses or isolation of the soul from objects of sensation, which enables it to attach itself to a higher level.

In Pardes Rimmonim (v. 2, fol. 97a), Cordovero paraphrases a very important passge from Rabbi Abraham Abulafia’s book Or ha-Sekhel defining hitbodedut as retirement to an isolated room and letter-combination. However, beyond these quotations one finds here an interesting discussion based upon the doctrines of Abulafia’s school:

“Several of the early ones explained that by the combination and transmutation of the seventy-two-letter holy name or the other names, after great hitbodedut, the righteous man, who is worthy and enlightened in such matters, will have a portion of the Divine Voice (bat qol) revealed to him, in the sense of ‘The spirit of God spoke in me, and His word was on my lips’ (II Samuel 23:2). For he combines together the potencies and unites them and arouses desire in them, each to its brother, as the membrum virile of man and his companion [i.e., the female], until there is poured upon him a spirit of abundance—on the condition that he be engaged in this thing, as a vessel prepared to and worthy of receiving the spirit, for if such is not the case, it will become cruel to be turned into ‘a degenerate wild vine’ ” (cf. Jeremiah 2:21). (Pardes Rimmonim, v. 2, fol. 69b)

Thus, hitbodedut in the sense of concentration advances the process of letter-combination, whose purpose is the attainment of the holy spirit, in the spirit of Abulafia’s Kabbalah. The conclusion of this quotation favors the approach of Rabbi Isaac of Acre, in which combination enables the soul to receive the abundance or the spirituality. This expression is interpreted elsewhere as well in connection with hitbodedut: “The prophets, of blessed memory, used to acquire, by means of those letters, through great concentration and by virtue of their pure soul, that spirit embodied in the letters” (Pardes Rimmonim, v. 2, fol. 69b). The letters combined by the Kabbalist are transformed here into a sort of talisman, which absorbs the supernal abundance. After the spirituality is absorbed by means of the letters, it becomes attached within the soul, which is prepared for this by concentration. Hitbodedut is described as a process by which the soul is transferred from the world of matter to the world of spirit, on the one hand, or as a technique of spiritual elevation, through contemplation of sensory data and its stripping away, in order to understand the spiritual element within it. The mystical aspect of hitbodedut is clearly expressed in another book by Cordovero, namely, Shiur Qomah:

“The sons of the prophets, when they used to prepare themselves for prophecy, brought themselves [to a state of] happiness as in the verse, ‘Take me a musician, and when the musician plays. . .’ (II Kings 3:15). And they would concentrate in accordance with their ability to do so, in attaining the wondrous levels and casting off the material, and strengthening the mind within the body, until they abandoned matter and did not perceive it at all, but their mind was entirely in the supernal orders and subjects. And they concentrate, and cast off the physical, and go away—and this matter is man’s preparation on his own part.”

According to Cordovero, the “sons of the prophets,” that is, the ancient Jewish mystics, had special methods of concentration: “according to their knowledge of concentration,” which showed them how to cast off materiality and to prepare the dematerialized mind to apprehend the structure of the sefirot: “the sublime levels,” “those supernal levels.” We learn about the necessary transition between the physical and the spiritual from Sefer Or Yaqar.

“If one wishes to take pleasure in the understanding of his Creator, let him concentrate according to the accepted premises which he has learned, and let him look at a particular physical form, so that he may learn from it that which is alluded to in the spiritual worlds, and he will see the detailed organs of it, and the varied matters, and its lights. And from there he will come to understand the innermost secrets of the spirituality of that form, and he shall attain devequt Such was the way of Adam in the Garden of Eden. Now, if the cherubim were physical-spiritual beings, he may gaze at them and come to contemplate and to apprehend from what is pictured here, in terms of the visual, that which makes sense to the mind—[proceeding] from the physical to the spiritual.” (v. 10, p. 7)

The Kabbalist is able to acquire “knowledge of his Creator” through contemplation of the form of his own physical organs, by means of hitbodedut. This statement reminds us of Rabbi Isaac of Acre’s story of the princess, which was quoted in the work of Cordovero’s pupil, Rabbi Elijah de Vidas. Furthermore, according to Rabbi Isaac, “from the sensory you shall understand the intelligibilia, for from your flesh shall you know God [after Job 19:26].” We have here a Kabbalistic variant of the saying “Know yourself and know your God,” according to which concentration plays a central role in the transition between one’s self—that is, one’s body—and the Divine. Hitbodedut is a means of uncovering the supernal source of material being; the cessation of hitbodedut is likely to bring about a distorted understanding of phenomenon. Thus, we hear of Moses that:

“Because he turned his heart away from prophetic concentration, in fleeing from the Creator’s mission, turning his head in thinking that it was Amram, his father, who was calling him at that moment. For had he concentrated at that time, he would have understood how that voice was descending from the [cosmic] world of Creation to that of Formation, and from that of Formation into that of Action.... And the same happened to Samuel, at the beginning of his prophecy, that he did not concentrate, to understand the way of the voice, even though he was worthy of prophecy. So he thought that that voice was a human voice, that is, that of Eli, until he finally said, “Speak, for your servant hears” (I Samuel 3:10)—that is, that he concentrated and apprehended the stages of prophecy, and understood the descent of the divine voice” (Reuven Margoliot, Mal’akhey ‘Elyon, Appendix, p. 21).

Here, hitbodedut is understood as a combination of concentration and meditation at one and the same time; it is the means enabling the human intellect to restore the essence of things to their supernal source, by apprehension of their essence. This is the way by which one turns to the upper world:

“There are two aspects of hokhmah: the supernal aspect is turned towards the divine crown (keter), which aspect does not face downwards.... The second, lower aspect turns downwards.... Likewise man has two aspects: the first is that of his concentration upon his Creator, to add and acquire wisdom, and the second that by which he teaches others” (Tomer Devorah, 3).

It seems important to me to dwell upon a certain change in the use of the term hitbodedut in Cordovero’s thought: concentrated thought enables one to uncover the hidden essence of the object of contemplation, through which one comes to understand the supernal source and the way in which the spiritual emanates down into the material world. According to Cordovero, the human intellect must cast off its physicality only in order to penetrate, by means of its concentration, beyond the physicality of other things, to uncover their spiritual nature and to arrive in the final analysis at God Himself. According to another text, Cordovero seems to state that there are certain subjects whose apprehension cannot be guaranteed even by hitbodedut:

“For the Torah is the secret of the upper Being which has come into existence below, and is not separated from the sefirot, but it nevertheless is present for those who exist below, while connected to the spiritual existence of the sefirot. When man concentrates in order to understand this mystery, he shall be astonished and be silent to his mind and not find it, for the Torah is not a separate being below” (Or Yaqar, Tiqqunim, MS Modena fol. 196b).

We find here an interesting approach, reminiscent of Rabbi Isaac of Acre’s opinion that the mystic is unable to penetrate the secrets of the Torah.

RABBI AHARON OF ZHELIKHOV ON SILENCE

2009-05-27T06:26:00.002-04:00

From Dovid Sears, “The Path of the Baal Shem Tov” (Jason Aronson), p. 120. This teaching is from Rabbi Aharon of Zhelikhov, author of Kesser Shem Tov (“Crown of a Good Name”), which is the first anthology of the Baal Shem Tov’s teachings gleaned from the works of Rabbi Yaakov Yosef of Polonoye; however, it exemplifies the founder of the Chassidic movement’s spiritual approach.

Rabbi Aharon of Zhelikhov on Silence

“And it came to pass, when the ark set forward, that Moshe said, ‘Rise up, 0 God, and let Your enemies be dispersed, and let those that hate You flee from Your Presence.’ And when it rested, he said, ‘Return, O God, to the myriads of thousands of Israel’ “ (Numbers 10:35-36).

There is a type of Divine service through movement (tenu’ah), which includes all the positive commandments, Torah study, and prayer; and they all entail various mystical unifications. However, there is another type of Divine service by means of resting (menuchah). One sits alone in silence and contemplates God’s loftiness. This relates to the World of Thought, which is also called the World of Rest; for one enters into a state of stillness. When one wishes to experience deveykus (mystical cleaving), he should sit quietly, with holy thoughts, in a state of awe and attachment to God (Ohr Ganuz L'Tzaddikim, B’ha'alosecha).

THE BAAL SHEM TOV ON SILENCE

2009-05-27T06:22:00.003-04:00

From Dovid Sears, “The Path of the Baal Shem Tov” (Jason Aronson), p. 119.

The Baal Shem Tov on Silence

“The fence for wisdom is silence” (Avos 3:13). When one is silent, he is able to bind himself to the World of Thought, which is called “wisdom” (Kesser Shem Tov 225).

***

“Whoever increases words brings about sin (chet)” (Avos 1: 17). [The Hebrew word for sin (chet) means a lack or deficiency (see Rashi on Bereishis 31:39). [Thus, the Mishnah implies that] even when one discusses the wisdom of Torah with others, silence would still be better. With silence, one can contemplate the greatness of God and bind oneself to Him more completely than through speech. At times one may lie in bed and appear to be sleeping, when one s really meditating upon the Creator, may He be blessed (Tzava’as ha-Rivash 133).

***

If a person is subjected to ridicule because of his manner of prayer or such things, he should not respond, even with pleasant words. In this way, he may avoid both strife and the feeling of self-importance which comes from forgetting about the Creator, may He be blessed. Thus, our Sages taught that a man's silence is greater than his speech, for it brings him to humility (Megillah 18a) (Tzava’as ha-Rivash 49).

***

One must often serve God with his soul alone—that is, in thought—and the body must remain still, so that it does not become weak from exertion (Tzava’as ha-Rivash 104).

TECHNIQUES FOR EXPLORING MYSTERIES

2009-05-20T06:24:00.002-04:00

From Moshe Hallamish, “An Introduction to the Kabbalah,” State University of New York (SUNY) Press, 1999 (trans. Ruth Bar-Ilan), Chapter 6, pp. 75-79. We took the liberty of modifying several transliterations due to our inability to replicate the author’s use of letters with dots below them for the Hebrew letters “chet” and “tzaddi.” End notes have been omitted for this online version.

Techniques of Exploring Mysteries

The chapters of prophecy in the Scripture give the impression that the prophet was passive while receiving the divine words of prophecy. The notion that the spirit of prophecy was bestowed upon the prophet irrespective of his own wishes or efforts is in line with the fundamental nature of biblical prophecy as a mission assigned to the individual from above. Nonetheless, the phenomenon of beney nevi'im (II Kings 2:3) is generally interpreted as a circle of “disciples” preparing themselves to receive inspiration. This suggests that prophetic inspiration is also a matter of labor, of taking some active part in the process. When, many generations later, Maimonides considered the prophet's role, he associated it with some strict requirements, even as he recognized that the inspiration of prophecy depended on God's choice and his absolute will. If this is the state of affairs in the world of prophecy, then what happens in the world of hidden mysteries? Does the individual who is worthy of perceiving these mysteries depend on the use of a certain technique to get inspiration, or does inspiration come to him naturally?

Since Kabbalah is an esoteric doctrine that is passed on by oral and personal transmission, by “whispering,” to the tsenu’im, the few humble and virtuous men who study it in tsin’ah, in privacy, within confined circles, it is understandable why the Kabbalists are reluctant to disclose their techniques for attaining divine secrets. In this respect, Kabbalah differs from mysticism. While the mystics dwelled on their experiences and the stages necessary for their attainment, the Kabbalists wrote as little as possible about their personal experiences. Yet one can glean from their writings some of the methods that were used for attaining secrets. A considerable number of these ways and means are also common to non-Jewish forms of mysticism, which makes it easier to grasp the nature of their Jewish correlates.

Various sources suggest that, with no special preparations on his part, a man may be endowed with mystical tendencies that qualify him to reach heights at any moment. Other sources explicitly mention specific techniques. Let me introduce some of the techniques that were widespread among the Kabbalists.

In his responsum, Rav Hai Gaon testifies:

“Many scholars thought that when one who is distinguished by many qualities described in the books seeks to behold the merkavah, the ‘divine Chariot,’ and the palaces of the angels on high, he must fast a number of days and place his head between his knees and whisper downward many hymns and songs of praise whose texts are known from tradition.”

The first technique, that of fasting, aims at self-nullification. It is designed to counteract the influence exerted by one's body, thus cleansing and purifying his soul. This is a superhuman condition into which man enters with full consciousness. Something of this sort was conveyed by Moses our master when he stated: “Forty days and forty nights I neither did eat bread nor drink water” (Deuteronomy 9:9). The forty days of fasting (probably implicit in R. Hai Gaon's responsum) also symbolize the time it takes for the formation of the embryo, as stated in the Talmud. This suggests that after a continuous fast, the person is reborn in a renewed state of purity. Perhaps, too, it signifies the obliteration of individuality by being fused with, and integrated into, the universal soul.

Significantly, fasting is associated with a well-defined posture of the body: sitting with one's head between one's knees. This technique is already mentioned in the biblical stories of Elijah the prophet (I Kings 18:42) and in the striking talmudic story of the repentant (Eleazar ben Dordia) who in contrition adopted this posture and wept, whereupon his soul departed from his body (Avodah Zarah 17a, and see also Berakhot 34b). This practice signified a return to the embryonic state, the position of the embryo in its mother's womb (see Nidah 30b). By the analogy to the embryo, this posture indicates that a new man is about to be born, a pure man, who is therefore worthy of perceiving divine mysteries.

The motif of pure renewal also underlies the legal procedure of seder malkot (punishment by lashing) as implemented in the city of Hebron in the sixteenth century. At the first stage, the repentant is “crouching” submissively. At the second stage, when the dayyanim, (religious judges) absolve him of his vow, he “sits with his head between his knees.” The difference in the descriptive terms is intentional. The second posture is reminiscent of the embryonic state, thus suggesting that after repentance, a newborn person, cleansed and pure, faces the world (Sheney Luchot ha-Berit, fol. 227b).

Let us turn to a dramatic description that appears in the Zohar (III, fol. 166b):

“[Rabbi Simeon] began his discourse by saying: ‘. . . Torah, Torah, what should I say about you? You are ayelet ahavim [a lovely doe] and ya'alat chen [a graceful gazelle], above and below. Who amongst your lovers would merit to be properly nourished by you? Torah, Torah, the delight of your Master. Who could uncover and disclose your secrets and hidden treasures?’ He wept and placed his head between his knees and kissed the dust, whereupon he saw several of the companions standing around him. They said to him: ‘Do not fear, ben Yohai; do not fear, the Holy Luminary. Write and rejoice in the happiness of your Lord.’ He then wrote down all he had heard that night and meditated upon it without forgetting anything. And that [hidden] light was shining for him all through the night. When the day had dawned, he lifted his eyes and saw a vision of light illuminating the firmament. He cast down his eyes, and, lifting them up again, he saw a light illuminating the whole firmament and the contours of the Temple appeared in that light in several images. R. Simeon rejoiced, whereupon that light vanished from his sight and was concealed. Meanwhile, those two celestial messengers arrived. They found him with his head between his knees and said to him: ‘Peace be with you, our master; peace to he whom the upper and the lower worlds wish to welcome. Stand up.’ R. Simeon stood up and rejoiced with them.”

According to the above excerpt, while sitting in the given posture Rabbi Simeon saw certain visions. This technique is mentioned later on, for example in Eben ha-Shoham (1538) by R. Joseph ibn Tsayach Among other things, the author advises the reader “to isolate himself and meditate in solitude on matters known to us in this wisdom, and to bend his head like a reed between his knees until all his senses are numb. Then he shall see the supernal lights manifestly, and not just suggestively.”

In the seventeenth century, R. Aaron Berakhyah of Modena recommended the same technique: "Behold how good it is to place one's head between one's knees.” He also offered a symbolic explanation for this posture.

According to the above excerpt, R. Simeon bar Yohai was sitting on the ground. Perhaps this detail is implicit in the wording of R. Hai Gaon's responsum “and whispers downward,” to which I will soon return. As a rule, it can be assumed that every case of sitting with one's head between one's knees entails sitting on the ground. Sitting on the ground is significant in itself, regardless of whether or not it involves the given posture.

Sitting on the ground, amidst the dust, usually symbolizes humility. This is also the opinion of R. Moses Cordovero: “And I heard that the ancients used to sit on the ground when they taught this wisdom to their disciples, in order to subdue them and frighten them.” Presumably, they adopted this posture not only in the presence of their masters and teachers. But sitting on the ground may also signify reestablishing contact with the earth by returning to the source—in the sense of “for thou art dust and to dust shalt thou return” (Genesis 3:19). Contrarily, those practising yoga make sure they sit on some sort of a mattress that would separate them from the ground proper.

As for “and [he must] whisper downward many hymns and songs of praise,” even this detail is found in non-Jewish forms of mysticism. Singing puts the mystic in a certain trance. Sometimes the mystics chant a certain word faster and faster. At other times, a more elaborate recitation of poetry is involved. We know of some hymns that the “descenders into the Chariot” used to hear during contemplation and perhaps these urged them to take part in the spiritually uplifting panegyrics. A parallel to the excerpt from R. Hai Gaon's responsum reads as follows:

“It is specified in the Heikhalot [literature] that the sages who were worthy of this, prayed and cleaned themselves of all impurity, and fasted and bathed themselves and became pure and they used the Names and gazed at the Heikhalot.”

This text lists prayer as one of the components of mystical preparation. In this context, praying is self-evident, and perhaps the prayer included a personal request for divine assistance. At any event, in later generations we find “a prayer to be recited before studying the Kabbalah.” This prayer finds expression in various formulations, most of which repeat the Psalmist's wish: “Open thou my eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of thy Torah” (Ps. 119:18).

At times, these prayers involved uttering the holy Names, as indicated in the above excerpt: “and they used the Names.” This practice, which is reminiscent of the Indian mantra, functioned like the chanting of a magic word. It was supposed to establish contact with the appropriate supernal powers that could be of help in the given case. Presumably, it is against such an attempt on the part of unworthy persons that the Tanna mentioned in Avot (I, 13) and its parallels warns that “u-de-ishtamash be-taga chalaf,” namely, he who exploits the crown (of the Name) for his personal benefit shall pass away before his time.

A strong criticism, which provides an interesting description of current kabbalistic practices, is also voiced by Rabbi Moshe Taku of the thirteenth century. This Ashkenazi chakham complains about the chaserey da'at (those lacking knowledge) who believe that they are able to transform themselves into prophets and train themselves to utter the holy names. Sometimes they are so focused on uttering the names that their soul takes fright and their body drops down in exhaustion, as if nothing separates the body from the soul; the soul then becomes the essential and is far-sighted. Yet, after a while, when the power of the name they uttered is removed from them, they resume their former state, while their mind is overwhelmed.

Finally, let me quote a concluding warning of Rabbi Moses Hayyim Luzzatto: “After he proved himself to possess the virtues we mentioned so far, beginning with watchfulness and up to fear of sin, he will sanctify himself and will prosper. For if the former are missing, he is like a common man and a cripple.” Apparently, it is no coincidence that Luzzatto used the terms a “common man” and a “cripple.” It is as if he wished to convey that this practice is holy labor, which corresponds to the service of the priest in the Temple. Just as no one is allowed to administer the sacrifices in the Temple save the priest, who must be intact, without any flaw, so also the Kabbalist's labor is a holy service performed by a holy man.

ABARBANEL ON PROPHECY

2009-05-14T04:17:00.001-04:00

The following is Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan’s translation of a section of the commentary of Rabbi Isaac ben Yehudah Abarbanel (1437-1508) on I Samuel 10:5, published in Meditation and the Bible (Samuel Weiser or Jason Aronson editions), Chapter 7, pp. 89-90. Don Isaac Abarbanel (sometimes rendered “Abravanel”) was a royal advisor to King Ferdinand of Spain at the time of the infamous banishment of the Jews instigated by the Catholic clergy, and chose to join his co-religionists in exile rather than take advantage of the protected status offered to him.

Abarbanel On Prophecy

It is written [that Samuel told Saul], “When you come to the city, you shall meet a band of prophets, coming from the high place, with harp, drum, flute and lyre, and they will be prophesying themselves (mit-navim). The spirit of God shall then succeed in you and you shall prophesy yourself with them, and you shall be transformed into a different man” (I Samuel 10:5, 6)…

These individuals were the “sons of the prophets,” the disciples of Samuel. He taught and directed them, preparing them to receive the prophetic influx. They would go to this hill to meditate (hitboded) and seek prophecy because of the influence of the Ark of God, which was kept there.

While seeking prophecy, they made use of musical instruments, preparing themselves through the elation produced by the music.

When the Scripture says that they were “prophesying themselves” (mit-navim), it does not mean that they were singing praise, as stated by a number of commentaries. Rather it means that they were inducing prophecy in themselves through meditation (hitbodedut). The word mit-nave is the reflexive form of the verb nava, meaning “to prophesy.”

The verse then says, “The spirit of God shall succeed in you.” In my opinion, this means that Ruach HaKodesh would “succeed” in him, this referring to the will and desire for prophecy. Immediately then, “you will prophesy yourself (mit-nave) with them,” meaning that he would engage himself in the methods of prophecy. The scripture then states that he would attain his desired goal: “You will be transformed into a different man.” He would attain the prophetic influx, and through this, he would become a different person.

This indicates that the first step in prophecy is a strong desire. This is followed by meditation (hitbodedut), which is its means. The goal is then the influx that comes to him.

THE PROPHETIC MEDITATIVE POSITION

2009-05-14T04:10:00.002-04:00

The essay below is from Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, “Meditation and the Bible” (Simon Weiser or Jason Aronson), pp. 69-73. Most end notes have been omitted from this online version, although a few have been restored to the text.

The Prophetic Meditative Position

For the most part, there is relatively little mention of body positions with relation to prophetic meditation and the attainment of the mystical state. The Amidah, the “Standing Prayer,” which plays an important role in Kabbalistic meditation, is recited with the feet together, emulating the stance of the angels. Other texts often speak of sitting and meditating.

Another classical position found in the Bible involves kneeling with the hands outstretched. Such a position is found in the case of Solomon’s prayer: “He kneeled on his knees ... and spread his hands toward heaven” (II Chronicles 6:13). Ezra likewise said, “I fell on my knees and spread my hands toward the Lord my God” (Ezra 9:5).

Rabbi Moses Cordovero (1522-1570), a leader of the Safed school of Kabbalah, comments that spreading the hands alludes to the fact that one is receiving a spiritual influx from on high. According to the Kabbalists, this is also the reason why Moses lifted his hands when he wished to channel spiritual energy so as to defeat Amalek in battle.

The position of uplifted hands also plays an important role in the Priestly Blessing, and later literature actually calls this the “Lifting of the Hands.” The Bahir, one of the most ancient Kabbalistic texts in existence, states that the reason for this is because the ten uplifted fingers parallel the Ten Sefirot, and can therefore draw spiritual energy from them. This same position is also used by Rabbi Abraham Abulafia in one place in his meditative system. Besides this, however, very little mention of this position in a practical sense is found in the Kabbalistic meditative texts.

There is, however, one position that is mentioned by several writers. This is the “prophetic position,” and it involves placing the head between the knees. This position is mentioned explicitly with regard to Elijah on Mount Carmel: “Elijah went up to the top of the Carmel, and he entranced himself on the earth, and placed his face between his knees” (I Kings 18:42). One of the major commentators, Rabbi Isaac Abarbanel, states that he was engaged in meditation (hitbodedut) while in this position.

This position was used for the intense concentration of spiritual energy. Elijah used it in order to bring rain, which had been previously withheld from King Ahab. In the Talmud, we find it used in a similar sense when Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa placed his head between his knees when praying for the son of Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai (Berakhot 34b). Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai was the leading sage of the first century, and ben Dosa had come to be his disciple. When Rabbi Yochanan’s wife asked if Rabbi Chanina was the greater of the two, the former replied, “I am like a nobleman before the king, but he is like one of his servants.” Rashi (ad loc.) explains that a servant can come and go before a king without any appointment.

Another place where we find this position is in the case of Elazar ben Dordaya. The Talmud relates that he had visited every prostitute in the civilized world, and now wanted to repent (Avodah Zarah 17a). After trying every other means, he finally placed his head between his knees and wept until he died. From the context, it is obvious that his repentance contained mystical elements, since we find him conversing with the sun, moon and mountains, asking them to intercede for him. What he finally did was pour spiritual energy into his soul to purify it of its sin, and he continued in this manner until he died.

The fact that he used this position is repenting for a sexual offense is of particular significance since the Midrash states that one reason for this position is that it places the head in conjunction with the mark of circumcision (Vayikra Rabbah 31:4). One of the reasons for the commandment of circumcision is to channel sexual energies along spiritual lines, and, as we shall see, this is one reason why it is performed on the eighth day. When one places the head in proximity to the mark of circumcision, one is better able to channel this spiritual energy to the mind, this being the point of prophecy.

It is significant to note that another allusion to this position may be found in the Paschal Lamb, which had to be roasted, “with its head on its knees” (Exodus 12:9). The great Hasidic leader and mystic, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichov (1740-1809), explains that in the order of the Sefirot, the two knees represent the Sefirot Victory (Netzach) and Splendor (Hod), and that placing the knees in conjunction with the head releases the spiritual energy of these Sefirot to the mind (Kedushat Levi, ad loc.). It is well-established in Kabbalah that Netzach and Hod are the sources of prophecy, and therefore, this position is especially effective when one wishes to transmit prophetic energy.

We often find counterparts of prophetic methods in idolatrous practices, since in many cases, the idolators attempted to emulate the prophetic schools. A possible hint that this position was used among the idolatrous prophets is found in the Talmudic teaching that certain pagan Arabs used to “bow down to the dust of their feet” (Bava Metzia 86b). The commentaries wonder at this strange practice, and find it difficult to explain the wording. However, it would appear that some pagans viewed the prophetic position, where the great mystics sat with their head between their knees, and assumed that they were contemplating their toes or the like. They adopted this practice and it gradually degenerated to the worship of the “dust of their feet.”

This position was favored by at least two post-Talmudic schools. Hai Gaon (939-1038), head of the Babylonian academy at Pumbedita, describes the practices of one such school: “One must fast for a certain number of days. He must then place his head between his knees and chant many songs and hymns known from tradition. From his innermost being and its chambers, this individual will then perceive the Seven Chambers, and it will be as if he is actually seeing them with his own eyes. In his vision, it is as if he is entering one chamber after another, gazing at what is in each one” (responsum cited in HaKotev, Ein Yaakov, Chagigah 14b, #11).

Some five hundred years later, we find this same position used by a school led by Rabbi Joseph Tzayach, a prominent Kabbalist and mystic who served as rabbi of Jerusalem and Damascus in the mid-sixteenth century. In the introduction to his main work, he speaks of individuals who meditate (hitboded), saying, “These individuals bend themselves like reeds, placing their heads between their knees until all their senses are nullified. As a result of their lack of sensation, they see the Supernal Lights, with true vision and not allegory” (Even HaShoham, Introduction).

In general, Tzayach’s meditative system is highly complex, involving magic squares and complex arrays of luminaries and chambers. His main works deal with these systems in almost microscopic detail, but, in general, the author is very reticent in describing how it can be used. In one place, however, he outlines the method, and this too involves the prophetic position. He writes, “If you wish to enter into their mystery, concentrate on all that we have said, and contemplate the chambers that we have discussed, together with their lights, colors and letter combinations. Meditate (hitboded) on this for some time, either briefly or at length. Begin by placing your head between your knees” (She’eirit Yosef 168a).

He then provides a remarkable prayer that should be said while in the prophetic position [Divine Names below should not be pronounced]:

Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, Crown me (Keter).

Yah, give me Wisdom (Chokhmah).

Elohim Chaim, grant me Understanding (Binah).

El, with the right hand of his Love, make me great (Chesed).

Elohim, from the Terror of His judgment, protect me (Gevurah).

YHVH, with His mercy grant me Beauty (Tiferet).

YHVH Tzava’ot, watch me Forever (Netzach).

Elohim Tzava’ot, grant me beatitude from his Splendor (Hod).

El Chai, make His covenant my Foundation (Yesod).

Adonoy, open my lips and my mouth will speak of Your praise (Malkhut).

The reader will immediately notice that this chant includes the Ten Sefirot, as well as the Divine Names associated with them in the Kabbalistic tradition. This is the only place where we find an actual meditative practice involving the prophetic position. Most of these methods were restricted to small secret societies, and it is possible that this method was in the possession of the same school since the time of Hai Gaon.

R. DAVID IBN ZIMRA AND HITBODEDUT

2009-05-07T06:55:00.002-04:00

The following is an excerpt from Dr. Moshe Idel’s seminal essay, “Hitbodedut as Concentration in Ecstatic Kabbalah,” which was first printed in his pioneering “Studies in Ecstatic Kabbalah” (SUNY). Rabbi David Ibn Zimra was the teacher of the illustrious kabbalist, Rabbi Isaac Luria, also known as the holy ARI.

R. David Ibn Zimra and Hitbodedut

One should note the influence of the interrelationship among hitbodedut, Holy Names, and the attainment of the Holy Spirit [ru’ah ha-kodesh] upon the approach of Rabbi David ben Solomon Ibn Abi Zimra (RaDBaZ, 1479-1573). This Kabbalist, who was acquainted with the system of Abulafia, writes in his book Magen David. “I have already seen one who wrote that through the concentration on the Holy Names in holiness and in purity, one may reach the stage of the Holy Spirit, even in our times, and this is a matter with which the enlightened man will not be in doubt about the matter of the Holy Names” (fol. 49b).

The author goes on to develop this idea more fully elsewhere; but, as opposed to what is said in this passage, which sees the acquisition of the Holy Spirit as possible in the present, the RaDBaZ explains the phenomenon of the Urim and Thummim [the oracle worn on the breastplate of the High Priest in the Holy Temple] as reached by means of hitbodedut:

"The matter of the Urim and Thummim ... is that one of the Holy Names, known to the priest, was contained in the folds of the breastplate, and the priest would direct his attention and thought and intentions towards that Name and concentrate upon it, and be adorned with the Holy Spirit by that same name, and it would be pictured in his mind." (Magen David, 18d-19a)

According to him, this phenomenon resembles prophecy: “For at times the prophet would direct his thoughts and contemplate, and with a slight arousal would understand the intentions of God, even in a mysterious metaphor or parable. And at times he would not be ready, and he would concentrate and see the vision and the parable” (Magen David, fols. 18d-19a). The prophet was required to concentrate and to meditate in order to decipher for himself the contents of his vision: “For were the intention of your thoughts towards prophecy in great concentration, you would know by yourself and would not need to ask the meaning of the parable.”

HITBODEDUT AND THE SHUTTING OF EYES

2009-05-07T06:51:00.004-04:00

HITBODEDUT IN THE WRITINGS OF ABRAHAM ABULAFIA

2009-05-07T06:41:00.003-04:00

The following is an excerpt from Dr. Moshe Idel’s seminal essay, “Hitbodedut as Concentration in Ecstatic Kabbalah,” which was first printed in his pioneering “Studies in Ecstatic Kabbalah” (SUNY). Footnotes have been omitted from this online version. In his many scholarly works, Dr. Idel has demonstrated that Rabbi Abraham Abulafia was a key figure in the development of Jewish mysticism, the impress of whose thought is evident in both the Safed Kabbalah of the sixteenth century and the eighteenth century Chassidic movement.

Hitbodedut in the Writings of Abraham Abulafia

Most of the discussions of hitbodedut that were written prior to Abulafia saw it as an activity engaged in by Moses, the prophets, and the pious men of ancient times. The approach of both Jewish philosophers and Kabbalists was based on the assumption that prophecy was a phenomenon of the past. For this reason, their discussions of this subject must be seen primarily as literary activity— exegesis of the Bible or of Talmudic sayings—rather than as rules for actual practice.

This situation was radically changed in the writings of Rabbi Abraham Abulafia (1240-ca. 1291). As one who saw himself as a prophet and messiah, he believed that his particular form of Kabbalah paved the way for mystical experience for all who would follow his path. For this reason, the tone of his writing is clearly practical; his writings, from which we shall quote below, are intended as guides to “prophecy” for his contemporaries, and the autobiographical hints therein leave no doubt that he himself followed these techniques and enjoyed their fruits. These two facts are clear signs of the actualization of the discussion concerning hitbodedut whose effects are also felt among later Kabbalists, under the direct or indirect influence of Abulafia’s writings.

In the commentary on his work Sefer ha-Edut, written on the occasion of his abortive attempt in 1280 to meet with Pope Nicholas III, Abulafia writes:

"The Pope commanded all the guards of his house, when he was in Soriano. . . that should Raziel [thus Abulafia designates himself] come to speak with him in the name of the Jews, that they take him immediately, and that he not see him at all, but that he be taken outside of the city and burnt.... And this matter was made known to Raziel, but he paid no attention to the words of those who said this, but he practiced hitbodedut and saw visions and wrote them down, and thus came about this book."

The close connection between hitbodedut and revelation is better explained if we assume that Abulafia concentrated in order to receive an illumination which would guide him in this critical situation, when he was also pressed for time. From what we know, Abulafia arrived at the palace in Soriano right at the time he wrote these things, so that it is difficult to imagine that he found a house or room in which to seclude himself, as he advises in his other writings. It is clear that this is not a casual suggestion, nor a historical description of the prophets, but a firsthand account of the use of hitbodedut in order to attain revelation. Hitbodedut in the sense of concentration appears to have been part of a way of life, and not only a sporadic activity performed in times of trouble or danger. In an epistle known as The Seven Paths of the Torah (Sheva’ Netivot ha-Torah), Abulafia enumerates a long list of works which he learned, but which did not bring him to “prophecy”:

"But none of this brought me to apprehension of the Active Intellect, to the point that I could take pride in prophecy, that I could fulfill the verse, “For in this shall the proud man take pride . . .” (Jer 9:23) until I received this apprehension in actuality, and I placed my soul in my hands according to the way of the Kabbalists, in knowing the Name alone. Yet nevertheless there were strong obstacles against me because of my sins, and they held me back from the path of hitbodedut until the Holy Spirit left me, as is the case today."

Abulafia here states explicitly that it was only the actual practical use of the technique of combination of letters of the divine name which brought about these revelations. This technique is referred to as “the way of the Kabbalists,” and it constitutes the particular kabbalistic method advocated by him. The expression “the way of hitbodedut” may also allude to this, for which reason it makes sense to assume here that hitbodedut refers not to isolation from society but to the use of a kabbalistic technique of combining letters, for which mental concentration is indispensable. An alternative interpretation of this incident, that Abulafia was unsuccessful in isolating himself from society, seems to me to be incorrect: we know that he attempted to disseminate his teachings in public and that he was persecuted by his opponents, who certainly would not have objected were the prophet-messiah to abandon his public activity and withdraw to some isolated place to engage in his own private, peculiar form of Kabbalah. It seems to me that Abulafia’s comments concerning “obstacles” are to be interpreted as referring to disturbances, whether internal or external, to his own powers of concentration.

Support for this understanding of Abulafia’s comments may be found elsewhere in his epistle Sheva’ Netivot ba-Torah. In the description of the seven ways to interpret the Torah, he mentions, at the end of the fifth path:

"This path is the beginning of the wisdom of letter-combination in general, and is only fitting to those who fear God and take heed of His name [Mal 3:16]. And the sixth path . . . is suitable to those who practice concentration (hitbodedut), who wish to approach God, in a closeness such that His activity—may He be blessed—will be known in them to themselves."

It also seems to me that one may discern here the connection between the “practitioners of hitbodedut” and the “science of letter-combination.” In this passage, as well, he speaks of closeness to God, but it is still only a stage preceding the seventh path, that appropriate to “prophets,” through which there comes about the “apprehension of the essence of the Ineffable Name.” It follows from this that the “path of hitbodedut” is an earlier stage in the process intended for the attainment of prophecy. It must be stressed that, despite the “objective” description of the practitioners of concentration, this is not only a theoretical discussion; the seven ways of reading or of interpreting the Torah do not refer to the distant past, but constitute a living option for the members of Abulafia’s own generation, he having been the one to restore these older ways of reading. Abulafia saw himself as a prophet both to himself and to others—that is, as one who had undergone the final two stages along the path outlined in his epistle. For this reason, it seems that his words must be seen as an autobiographical testimony, from which point of view this text should be combined with the two previous quotations, whose autobiographical character is quite evident.

A close relationship between letter-combination and hitbodedut appears in the book Hayyey ha-‘0lam ba-Ba’:

"He must also be very expert in the secrets of the Torah and its wisdom, so that he may know what will occur to him in the circles [the concentric circles on which the letters to be combined are written] of the combination, and he will arouse himself to think of the image of the Divine prophetic Intellect. And when he begins to practice letter-combination in his hitbodedut he will feel fear and trembling, and the hairs of his head will stand up and his limbs will tremble." (MS Oxford 1582, fols. 116-12a)

Here, hitbodedut designates the special concentration required by the Kabbalist in order to combine letters. This intense concentration involves physical side effects that would be difficult to explain were they caused only by withdrawal from society.

In conclusion, we should emphasize the innovation involved in Abulafia’s understanding of hitbodedut as concentration. According to extant kabbalistic sources, he seems to have been the first Kabbalist to connect hitbodedut with a practical, detailed system to give the concept hitbodedut real content: essentially, the combination of letters and the vocalization associated with them. Later we shall see that the presence of an association between hitbodedut and letter-combination or the recitation of divine names is likely to be a conclusive sign of the direct or indirect influence of Abulafia’s kabbalistic system.

Most of the texts to be discussed below were written in the Middle East, or by authors of Eastern origin. This striking fact is doubtless connected, first of all, with the relationship between Abulafia’s system and Sufism, a relationship acknowledged by the Kabbalists themselves. Second, as Abulafia’s Kabbalah was subject to intense attack by the RaShBA, its influence within Spain itself was limited, which created an imbalance between the spread of prophetic Kabbalah in the East and its curtailment in the West. On the other hand, there is considerable discussion of hitbodedut among Jewish philosophers in Provence and Spain during the thirteenth to fifteenth centuries, albeit lacking in Abulafia’s practical tone, in which classical prophecy is interpreted as a phenomenon attained through the help of hitbodedut whether this is understood as concentration or as withdrawal from society. These discussions are likewise associated with Arabic philosophical texts, such as Sefer Hanhagat ba-Mitboded by Ibn Bajjah, or Sefer Hay Ben Yoqtan by Ibn Tufail, and they later influenced the development of Kabbalah during the sixteenth century. On the other hand, the Spanish Jewish thinkers contemporary with the Kabbalists were influenced neither by Abulafia’s doctrine of hitbodedut or that of his disciples, nor by the Jewish-Sufic approaches of the school of Abraham Maimonides (1186-1237).

THE RASHAB ON KNOWLEDGE AND THE EMOTIONS

2009-05-05T04:30:00.002-04:00

The following is a translation of Chapter Five from Rabbi Shalom DovBer Schneersohn of Lubavitch (also known by his acronymn as the “Rashab,” 1860-1920), “Tract on Prayer” (Kuntres HaTefillah) (Kehot 1992) by Rabbi Y. Eliezer Danzinger. This key work in Chabad Chassidic thought elucidates the path of contemplative prayer and spiritual refinement. We have taken the liberty of incorporating most of the footnotes into the text and deleting some of the brackets and parentheses.

To explain the matter further: Daas [literally, “knowledge,” refering to the sefirah or divine power that synthesizes opposites], as is known, is what enables a person to bind himself to an idea or concept, and is the medium through which emotions are born. But the bond that daas facilitates between a person and a concept does not indicate its whole essence. For daas is a distinct intellect, as is known, the third of three cognitive faculties of the brain.

[Translator’s Note: Insofar as the cognitive process is concerned, the human brain has three compartments. One corresponds to the faculty of chochmah, the second to bina, and the third to daas. The first two compartments are located at the front of the head, while the third, daas, is located at the back of the head, opposite the forehead. See Sefer HaMaamarim 5704/1944, p. 163.] The substance and essence of daas is the spiritual sense-perception of a concept that it affords. Daas ensures that a concept is more clearly felt and discerned.

In other words, through attachment—by firmly binding himself to the matter that he comprehends—a person can perceive and sense the concept’s inner-core. As a result, his grasp of the matter is greatly enhanced. His understanding is more comprehensive, encompassing a myriad of details; it is more penetrating, placing the matter in closer and in better proximity, as explained earlier. On account of this too, the emotions are aroused, as will be explained later. This sense perception is the essence of daas.

For a person may understand something very well, yet he may not feel it, just as an intelligent child whose understanding is broad nonetheless does not sense the core of a matter. And for this reason, a child under the age of thirteen years is not punishable by Jewish law. He may be astute, bright and perceptive, and fully knowledgeable of all the regulations concerning the positive and negative commandments. Nevertheless, he is not culpable if he transgresses a commandment. For possessing no daas, a child can neither recognize nor feel the essential aspect of mitzvos (divine commandments). Accordingly, our Sages say regarding vows and declarations of consecration: “If the one uttering the vow or declaration knows Whom [he is addressing, viz., G-d, then the utterance is binding]” (Nidah 45b; Rambam, Hilchos Nedarim, ch. 11, par. 1, 2).

Similarly, in worldly concerns: a child may show a keen understanding of monetary matters and prestige; nevertheless, their true significance is foreign to him, since unlike an adult, he cannot discern and sense them. The same applies to the opposite qualities, namely, lowliness and poverty. Unlike an adult who can sense these shortcomings very clearly, a child—though he understands their demerits—cannot feel them.

This is the reason for cruelty. It stems from a lack of empathy. Though a person understands the plight of another, he doesn’t feel it within his soul. As a result, he has no compassion for his fellow. A compassionate person truly feels the other’s ignominy, and on account of this, feels compassion for him. (Accordingly, it is written elsewhere that since mercy stems from daas, they are aligned with one another.) The quality of daas is thus spiritual sense-perception associated with understanding.

(Regarding Iyov, it is similarly written, “He speaks without knowledge [daas]” (Job 34:35). Meaning that Iyov didn’t sense the truth of the subject about which he spoke. For if he had, how could he have said such a thing?) He senses the matter that he understands, through a bond, through strongly affixing his daas to the subject.

Now although sensory perception occurs in the brain (just as its nerves are located physically in the brain, as is known), nevertheless, it extends into the heart. Feeling the matter that is grasped by the mind, a person becomes excited in his heart, the ecstasy being commensurate with the type of mental conception.

In the physical realm, when a person senses the benefits of money or greatness, he feels the matter in his heart, which is then stirred with a love or yearning for it. Conversely, when he senses the shortcoming of lowliness, he wants none of it at all. So too in one’s service of G-d, when a person experiences the essence of a divine insight, the sensation extends automatically into his heart, which then becomes excited over the G-dliness. The ecstasy may be a “close” one, i.e., a yearning to draw near to G-d and cleave to Him. This occurs when reflection concerns either the proximity of G-dliness, or its loftiness, for His greatness cannot be fathomed. (As explained elsewhere, a peripheral love is born from reflection on the closeness of Divinity. A more inward love is generated by meditation on the greatness and loftiness of the blessed Infinite Light.)

Similarly, when a person reflects on how everything is naught in relation to Him, or when he reflects on how the Infinite Light is found below just as above, his emotion of awe is aroused. The specifics concerning reflection on these matters are explained elsewhere. The feeling in the heart and its ecstasy come automatically, without any effort. A person doesn’t need to exert himself in order to sense the G-dly theme in his heart and to be excited with a love or awe. Rather it proceeds and is drawn automatically from the brain to the heart through the medium of daas. First daas draws and elevates the heart’s excitement to the brain, as mentioned above. Afterwards, the ecstasy is drawn from the brain back into the heart. This whole process happens automatically.

Of primary importance is one’s intellectual endeavor. Meaning: The ultimate purpose is the impression (lit. “engraving”) and feeling within the heart, and the manifest excitation of the emotions in the heart. This comprises a person’s primary avodah; whether in and of itself, i.e., the manifest feelings of love and awe of G-d; whether in the animated observance of Torah and mitzvos; or whether in the purification and refinement of one’s natural dispositions, as will be explained. Therefore, it is written, “Know therefore this day, and set it in your heart” (Deuteronomy 4:3). For the main thing is the “setting” in the heart, this being the principal avodah (spiritual work). But this itself, that there should be manifest ecstasy in the heart, depends specifically upon a person exerting his brain.

A person must toil to prolong his reflection and to absorb himself exceedingly well in the essence of the G-dly matter that he comprehends, so that it is felt within his mind. His comprehension is amplified and broadened thereby, affording him a very clear understanding and grasp of the matter in all of its details, and with greater depth, as explained above, until the illumination of the light is tangibly manifest in his mind. Then, automatically, the light is drawn into his heart. The heart, too, then sharply senses the G-dly matter, and the heart’s emotions become ecstatic with true love and awe. This is termed hispa’alus atzmi’im. In other words, his ecstasy is not an artificial one. Rather the heart is truly excited over the G-dliness itself, on account of the sensation of G-dliness felt in his heart.

THE LOCAL RECLUSE

2009-05-01T04:39:00.003-04:00

by Rabbi Dovid Sears

In my hometown of Norwich, Connecticut, I knew a kind and devout elderly woman named Mrs. Sarah Lang, whose father, Rabbi Yisrael Stamm, had been a respected scholar and posek there during the early 1900s. Like almost all the Jewish residents of Norwich (including the Sears family), Rabbi Stamm hailed from the town of Shat, Lithuania. Another “landsman” who was close to the Stamm family was a porush, or recluse, named Rabbi Yitzchok Luria. And like his sixteenth-century namesake, Rabbi Luria was a kabbalist, albeit in the “Litvishe” tradition. (He might have been related to Rabbi Dovid Luria, a close disciple of the Vilna Gaon and author of an important commentary on Pirkei Rabbi Eliezer, but that’s just speculation.)

Mrs. Lang told me that Rabbi Luria used to spend the entire week in a little shack on the grounds of a farm a few miles south of Norwich, near the New England shtet’l of Montville. On Shabbos he would join the Stamm family and accompany his friend Reb Yisrael to shul. She remembered with nostalgia how her father and his guest would exchange Torah thoughts on the weekly Torah portion. Then after Shacharis and Musaf, Rabbi Luria would go to the home of another talmid chokhom for the day meal; upon his return, while his hosts took an afternoon nap, he would sit quietly in the dining room and study for awhile. Then he would close his eyes and sing wordless melodies of awesome deveykus to Hashem until it was time for the Minchah prayer.

One Shabbos afternoon, though, the guest returned while the family was just beginning the main course. “Reb Yitzchok,” Rabbi Stamm exclaimed, “what happened that you’re back so soon? Is something wrong?”

A little embarrassed, the guest hemmed and hawed until finally he divulged his secret with one sentence: “The rebbetzin put a carrot in the chicken soup…”

I raised an eyebrow when Mrs. Lang said this – but with a mischievous look, she offered a commentary of her own on that cryptic remark. “In those days, there were all sorts of ‘isms’ in the Jewish world. And basically, there were those who didn’t change anything versus those who wanted to change this or that. My father and Rabbi Luria were in the first camp. And that carrot suddenly appearing in the soup was a sign that the other rabbi’s wife was moving away from tradition. So the guest was afraid of her kashrus altogether. My father understood his feelings and asked him to join us for the day meal, too. From that day on, every week he spent the entire Shabbos with our family.”

When I was sitting shiva for my father in Norwich, a relative named Lou Fox was reminiscing with us and Rabbi Luria’s name came up. It seems that when he passed away, Lou had helped settle his estate and take care of his burial, etc. He remembered him as an awesome individual, a man who was not of this world.

MAIMONIDES ON PROPHECY

2009-04-30T14:30:00.001-04:00

This translation of the Rambam’s Mishneh Torah, Yesodei Ha-Torah 7:4, appears in Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, “Meditation and the Bible” (Simon Weiser or Jason Aronson), p. 65.

A prophet cannot prophesy at will. He concentrates his mind, sitting in a good, joyous mood and meditating (hitboded). One cannot attain prophecy when he is depressed or languid, but only when he is in a joyous state.

When they were seeking prophecy, the prophets would therefore have people play music for them. We thus find: "A band of prophets, coming from a high place, led by harp, drum, flute and lyrej and they were prophesying themselves" (I Samuel 10:5). The term "prophesying themselves" (mitnauim) means that they were making use of the prophetic methods in order to receive a prophetic vision.

RABBI MOSHE CHAIM LUZZATTO ("RAMCHAL") ON PROPHECY

2009-04-30T14:26:00.001-04:00

Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto (1707-1747) authored the classic of Jewish mystical philosophy Derekh Hashem (“The Way of God”) from which these excerpts on prophecy have been taken. The translation is by Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, “Meditation and the Bible” (Simon Weiser or Jason Aronson), pp. 65-68. Footnotes have been omitted from this online version. The complete edition of “The Way of God” is available through Feldheim Publications.

Prophecy . . . requires a course of apprenticeship, just as other disciplines and crafts, where one must advance step by step until the subject is mastered thoroughly. This explains what the Bible means when it speaks of the "sons of the prophets." These were the ones who apprenticed themselves to recognized prophets in order to learn the necessary techniques of prophecy.

Those who train themselves for prophecy must do so through a number of specific disciplines. The purpose of these is to bring the Highest Influence to bear on them, nullifying the effects of their physical nature which restricts it. In this manner, they attach themselves to God and bring upon themselves a revelation of His Light.

These disciplines can include various meditations, reciting certain Divine Names, and praising God with prayers containing such Names, combined in a specific manner.

The main initiation into prophecy, however, depends on the neophyte's devotion to God. To the degree that they make themselves worthy through their deeds and continually purify themselves through the above-mentioned disciplines, they bring themselves closer and closer to God. The prophetic influence begins to come on them, and they have one experience after another, until they finally attain true prophecy.

All this, however, requires the guidance of a master prophet. He must have an adequate knowledge of the prophetic methods, and be able to teach his disciples what each one must do to attain the desired result, according to each one's particular level of readiness.

When the neophyte prophets begin to experience revelations, the master prophet continues to guide them. On the basis of what is revealed to them, he instructs them and informs them [as to ] what is still lacking in their quest. Until they attain full prophecy, they will require a master for all this. Even though some influence and revelation may have started to come to them, this in itself is not enough to immediately bring them to the ultimate goal. Before they can reach this, they need much guidance and training, each one according to his degree of readiness.

It is necessary to realize that the only individual who deserves the actual title of Prophet is one who has attained true prophecy. This is an individual who is certain that his prophecy is from God, as discussed elsewhere. When he reaches such a level, there is neither ambiguity nor error in his prophecy.

In a more general sense, however, the title of Prophet is also given to one who has had the beginnings of a prophetic experience and has attained some degree of revelation in a manner beyond the realm of normal human experience. Such an individual, however, may not perceive the concept unambiguously, and may therefore be misled. . . .

Those who are fully aware of the prophetic methods, however, are also completely aware of these stumbling blocks. They recognize their signs and know how one must protect himself from them until he attains true prophecy. These master prophets teach these things to their disciples, as discussed earlier. One of the important tasks of these master prophets is to bring their disciples to the truth and prevent them from being misled.

Errors such as these stem from the Corrupting Forces. These Forces are allowed to exist and function according to their ordained nature and according to the power that they were given. One of these powers is the ability to deceive people and influence people in a manner resembling genuine prophecy.

What they reveal, however, is not necessarily true. These Forces can reveal false concepts, and even produce miracles to verify them. The Torah therefore openly states with regard to a false prophet, “He will predict a sign or wonder, and that sign or wonder will actually happen” (Deuteronomy 13:2, 3).

This can sometimes happen to a person against his will, and it can also be brought about intentionally. A person, without having sought the Corrupting Forces, can experience a false vision. Even though he may have been seeking true prophecy from God, he may be exposed to this evil because of his lack of preparation and proper effort.

In many cases, however, an individual may actually desire to commune with these Corrupting Forces, striving to attain such false prophecy. He pursues these Forces, knowingly working to attach himself to them, Through this, he hopes to gain a corrupt revelation, so that people should take him to be a prophet. He would then have the power to willfully mislead them, or to gain status in their eyes.

Included in this second category were the prophets of Baal and Astarte. They exerted themselves in such a manner and attained some supernatural knowledge, through which they were able to mislead those who believed in them. They were also able to produce miracles to verify their prophecy, as mentioned earlier.

The false prophets, however, knew that all of this came from the side of Evil, which they themselves had chosen. They did not consider themselves true prophets, but engaged in this because of the wickedness in their hearts.

Such evil, however, can also come to a person who is not seeking it. It is therefore crucial for those who strive for true prophecy to do so under the guidance of a master prophet. Only such guidance can prevent errors such as these.

This is true only before one attains full prophecy. Once a person actually attains the level of prophecy, he is able to clearly recognize true prophecy, and distinguish between the genuine and the spurious. It is impossible for a true prophet to have any doubts whatsoever.

(Derekh Hashem III, 4:2, 4, 9, 10)

THE MAGGID OF MEZERITCH ON PRAYER

2009-04-22T06:57:00.002-04:00

The following translations are excerpts from Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, “Chassidic Masters” (Moznaim), Chapter 4: “A Bear in the Forest,” which presents a sampling of the teachings of Rabbi Dov Baer, the Maggid of Mezeritch (1704-1772). The Maggid explained and transmitted the teachings of the Baal Shem Tov to his disciples, who became the future leaders of the Chassidic movement. We have taken the liberty of adding a few explanations in brackets.

The Maggid of Mezeritch On Prayer

A person praying in a place where there are idle words can elevate them if they are words of joy. Their elevation results in great joy on high, giving rise to much enthusiasm. But if they are words of sadness they are very difficult to uplift (Maggid Devarav L’Yaakov / Likutey Amarim #51).

***

Place all your thoughts into the power of your words, until you see the light of the words. You can then see how one word shines into another, and how many lights are brought forth in their midst.

This is the meaning of the verse, "Light is sown to the righteous, and joy to the upright in heart." (Psalms 97:11).

The lights in the letters are God's chambers, into which He transmits His emanations (ibid. #52).
***

Separate your soul from your body. Your soul can then be dressed in the thought contained in the words you speak, and you will be able to perceive many universes on high.

You have many powers, one required for one universe, and another for the next. When your soul ascends to all the worlds that you must elevate, it is examined in each universe to see if it is fit to go higher. If it is not, it is cast outside.

When an extraneous thought comes to you, this is a sign that you are being cast out. But if you are wise, you can use that thought itself to bind yourself to God all the more. The thought consists of letters that are part of the Divine Presence's body, but they fell as a result of the Breaking [of the Primordial Vessels]. The combination of these letters therefore becomes bad, intermingled with the Husks.

This is like sweetmeats intermingled with other things. Each thing is good by itself, but mixed together they are vile and disgusting. This [combination of letters] likewise becomes evil.

But when you understand the idea of the thought [that falls into your mind, you can then elevate it]. If it involves desire and lust, it has fallen from the Universe of Love [Ahavah, which is related to the sefirah of Chesed] ; if it is a debilitating phobia, it is from the Universe of Fear [Yirah, which is related to the sefirah of Gevurah); and if it involves pride, it is from the Universe of Beauty [Tiferet, which is etymologically related to hitpa’arut, meaning pride]. The same is true of all other such thoughts, since [the attributes paralleling] all seven days of creation have fallen.

When you bind these thoughts to God through love and fear of the Creator, you then return them to their Root. The same is true of other attributes and each thought can be elevated to the Attribute from which it fell. You can once again bind it to that Attribute, and transform the Husks that fell from it into a good combination.

God has great delight when you do this. It is like a royal prince who is kidnapped. The king has great delight when he is returned, even more than from a son who has never left his side (ibid. #53).

***

The supernal universes are really very great, but because the soul is clothed in the body, they seem very small. However, when a person divests himself of his physical bodily nature, then with his mind he can see that these universes are very great (ibid. #67).

***

The wise man is not like others who only ask that the king should fulfill their needs. Instead, the wise man requests that the king should instruct his servants to open the gates, and allow him access to the king. He realizes that being worthy of speaking to the king is more significant and valuable than anything else in the world. Besides this, when the king sees that he is more important to this person than all the goods and delights that the world has to offer, then the king also becomes very fond of him.

This is the meaning of the verse, “A poor man's prayer, when he binds himself, [he pours out his words before God].” Even though this individual is very poor and needy, he binds himself and delays the request for his needs. He binds up his needs, and does not speak of them in detail. Instead, he cries out, begging and urging that all the gates of prayer should be open for him, so that he should be able to “pour out his words before God.” This is more precious to him than anything the world can offer.

It is actually very surprising that a mortal human being should be able to attach himself to God. Besides his physical body, many Husks separate him from God. Even though, “the whole earth is filled with His glory” (Isaiah 6:3), God is still hidden behind many barriers.

But all the barriers that separate and restrain can be torn down by the word that you utter. Your words should therefore be attached to God. This means that you must intimately feel that you are actually speaking to God.

If we could speak just one line, or even two or three words to God in each service in the above mentioned manner, it would be sufficient (ibid. #22).

***

Expanded and constricted consciousness can be explained in the following manner. When a person learns something but does not understand it in depth, this is a state of constricted consciousness, since his mental picture is not complete. But when he grasps something with enthusiasm and full understanding, then he is on the level of expanded consciousness, bound to the highest levels. Similarly, there are states of expanded and constricted consciousness in prayer and all other observances (ibid. #74).

TWO TYPES OF PRAYER: HALAKHIC AND HASIDIC

2009-04-22T06:45:00.004-04:00

The following essay was written by Rabbi Bezalel Naor, first published in “Tradition” and more recently included in his collected essays, “From a Kabbalist’s Diary” (Orot), pp. 59-73. We regret that the author’s carefully researched and interesting footnotes could not be included in this online version. However, we restored several source references to the text.

The “two types of prayer” discussed by Rabbi Naor actually reflect two broad viewpoints and contrasting spiritual approaches within Jewish tradition. These two “sides” of Judaism are still very much in evidence today, each category having its own internal diversity. Although most of the material on this website inevitably reflects Jewish mystical thought, with its greater concern with solitude and meditation, the other side of the coin so well presented here puts things in perspective and more clearly defines the parameters of the exoteric and esoteric in Judaism.

TWO TYPES OF PRAYER: HALAKHIC AND HASIDIC

Most of us are familiar with only one form of prayer (that which, whether intended as such or not, constitutes the halakhic variety). The fact is, however, there exist two types of prayer, which (for lack of better terminology) we shall term “halakhic” versus “kabbalistic” or “hasidic,” roughly equivalent to “exoteric” and “esoteric.”

Though certainly much has already been written on the subject, I feel that at the present time we are in a unique position to sharpen the contrast between these different genres, thanks to the writings of two men: the Gaon Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik of Boston (1903-1993) and Moreinu Harav Yizhak Dov Schneersohn of Liady (1826-1910).

One of the abiding concerns of Rav Soloveitchik's philosophy of halakha is the centrality of prayer in Judaism. This is the spiritual legacy of his illustrious grandfather, R. Hayyim Soloveitchik (1853-1918), who deemed tefillah a subject worthy of rigorous Brisker analysis. The grandson's unique contribution to the discussion is the underscoring of bakasha or petition as the essence of Jewish prayer. Though indisputably within the mainstream of halakha, this particular nuance is in part an outgrowth of Rav Soloveitchik's existentialist view of man.

R. Yizhak Dov Schneersohn, author of the Perish Maharid, a kabbalistic commentary to the Alter Rebbe's Siddur (Berdichev, 1913), was raised in a very different milieu. His is the world of Habad hasidism in the wake of the Zemah Zedek, R. Menahem Mendel of Lubavitch (1789-1866), whose forte was the interpenetration of the exoteric and the esoteric, nigleh and nistar. The prodigious literary output of the Zemah Zedek is most eloquent testimony to this bold and daring attempt to achieve a coherent synthesis of the seemingly disparate disciplines of Halakha and Kabbalah. His grandson, R. Yizhak Dov (son of R. Hayyim Shneur Zalman of Liady), could not but have imbibed this spirit. Given his background, his analysis of the phenomenon of prayer must balance equally the halakhic and kabbalistic perspectives.

The departure point for any meaningful discussion of prayer must be the Maimonides-Nahmanides controversy. Maimonides had caused a minor revolution in Jewish law by categorizing prayer as a biblical commandment. Nahmanides refuted this claim in a most thoroughgoing manner, though in another passage conceded that perhaps ze’akah be’et zarah, outcrying in a time of communal catrastrophe, could be considered de-oraita (of Torah origin).

R. Hayyim Soloveitchik closed the gap between the two views by remarking that even according to those early authorities (Nahmanides, et al) for whom the hiyyuv, the obligation of prayer, is purely rabbinic in origin, nevertheless, the kiyyum, the fulfillment of prayer, is de-oraita, which is to say that the basic concept of prayer definitely exists in the Torah’s lexicon.

Rav Soloveitchik's own attempt at partial reconciliation is as follows: Both Maimonides and Nahmanides agree that prayer as defined by the Torah is man's response to crisis. The difference is, whereas according to Nahmanides, prayer is the response to a “surface crisis” of the community at large, a zarat ha-zibbur, according to Maimonides, the definition of tefillah (prayer) extends to a “depth crisis” of the individual, a zarat ha-yahid. Seen from Maimonides' perspective, life is an ongoing crisis. Rav Soloveitchik realizes full well that the halakhic conception of prayer as a statement of human needs is at odds with the vision of classical mysticism, and he minces no words pointing out this conflict:

"When we observe the formulae of the blessings, we see that the arrangers of the prayer were long on supplication and short on praise. Supplication is the backbone of “service of the heart.” When praying during the week, if one uttered less than nineteen prayers, he did not fulfill his duty, for he did not express as proper the needs of individual and community. On the other hand, if one recited on Shabbat the weekday prayer, he is exempt (provided he mentioned Shabbat). Even the special prayers for Shabbat and Yom Tov are not devoid of expressions of supplication. True, Shabbat and Yom Tov preclude outcry, but, nevertheless, we request during them purity of heart and sanctification of man, through performance of commandments and study of Torah, also bestowal of good and the joy of salvation and complete peace, free of sorrow. The Mussaf prayer is an outpouring of the soul on account of Israel's exile and a plea to God for speedy deliverance. A silent sorrow permeates the prayer “U-mipnei hata’einu.” There is no prayer without petition and supplication. The Halakha was opposed to all those views rooted in pantheistic mysticism which sought to delete supplication from prayer and to base worship solely on an esthetic-ecstatic foundation – the hymn.

'Of course (as explained previously), prayer requires praise and thanksgiving as well; however, the verve and vitality of prayer is petition. Halakha is interested in psychosomatic man, in his physical body. It does not take kindly to ecstatic divorce of soul from body at the time of prayer. The “service of the heart” proposes to offer up soul and body to the Lord. Furthermore, Halakha guarded vigilantly the exoteric character of prayer. The majority cannot extricate themselves from the shackles of mudane, petty needs, and any attempt to impose this upon them will backfire. Halakha is concerned with human beings who “dwell in darkness and the shadow of death,” and are driven to crime for a crust of bread. Such people inhabit a world of venal and ludicrous drives. Just such an ineloquent and confused lot, the Halakha taught to pray, placing in their mouths a clear formula. The common man is commanded to pray for the sick in his household, for his wine which soured and his crops which were ruined. The hymn, so rich in esthetic experience, is restricted to the realm of the elite and finds favor only in the eyes of antisocial mystics. Their existence is esoteric; they are delicate souls. Halakha cannot confine itself to lofty ascetics. Only supplication is capable of making prayer accessible to the masses." (“R’ayonot ha-Tefillah,” Ha-Darom, Tishri 5739, pp. 101-102).

It is apparent from this citation that Rav Soloveitchik is eminently familiar with the other approach to prayer. What is harder to glean is exactly how he would be disposed to its utterance by the recondite elite to which he alludes. Would he consider this alternative approach to prayer the privilege of the kabbalist, a right earned after years of preparation and study? Or would he consider the very striving for that which is beyond the real limits of man's existential condition, misguided and inauthentic? (In view of what Rav Soloveitchik's ancestor, Rabbi Hayyim of Volozhin, wrote in his work Nefesh ha-Hayyim, one would suspect the former to be true.)

To be sure, in another piece (published almost concurrently), Rav Soloveitchik maintains the primacy of prayer qua plea, not as a concession to the masses, but rather as a matter of existential principle:

"Judaism, in contradistinction to mystical quietism, which recommended toleration of pain, wants man to cry out aloud against any kind of pain, to react indignantly to all kinds of injustice or unfairness. For Judaism held that the individual who displays indifference to pain and suffering, who meekly reconciles himself to the ugly, disproportionate and unjust in life, is not capable of appreciating beauty and goodness. Whoever permits his legitimate needs to go unsatisfied will never be sympathetic to the crying needs of others. A human morality based on love and friendship, on sharing in the travail of others, cannot be practiced if the person’s own need-awareness is dull, and he does not know what suffering is. Hence Judaism rejected models of existence which deny human need, such as the angelic or the monastic. For Judaism, need-awareness constitutes part of the definition of human existence. Need-awareness turns into a passional experience, into a suffering awareness. Dolorem ferro, ergo sum – I suffer, therefore I am – to paraphrase Descartes’ Cogito, ergo sum. While the Cartesian Cogito would also apply to an angel or even to the devil, our inference is limited to man: neither angel nor devil knows suffering.

'Therefore, prayer in Judaism, unlike the prayer of classical mysticism, is bound up with the human needs, wants, drives and urges, which make man suffer. Prayer is the doctrine of human needs. Prayer tells the individual, as well as the community, what his, or its genuine needs are, what he should, or should not, petition God about. Of the nineteen benedictions in our Amidah, thirteen are concerned with basic human needs, individual as well as social-national. [Vide Maimonides, Hil. Tefillah 1:4.] Even two of the last three benedictions (“Rezeh” and “Sim Shalom”) are of a petitional nature. The person in need is summoned to prayer. Prayer and zarah (trouble) are inseparably linked. Who prays? Only the sufferer prays. [Vide Nahmanides’ comments on Maimonides' Sefer ha-Mizvot, Positive Commandment 5.] If man does not find himself in narrow straits, if he is not troubled by anything, if he knows not what zarah is, then he need not pray. To a happy man, to contented man, the secret of prayer was not revealed. God needs neither thanks nor hymns. He wants to hear the outcry of man, confronted with a ruthless reality. He expects prayer to rise from a suffering world cognizant of its genuine needs. In short, through prayer man finds himself. Prayer enlightens man about his needs" (“Redemption, Prayer, Talmud Torah,” Tradition, Spring 1978, pp. 65-66).

At the opposite end of the spectrum, we have the teachings of the Maggid of Mezhirech, R. Dov Baer, disciple of R. Israel Ba’al Shem Tov, founder of modern hasidism. The most salient feature of the Maggid's teaching is the theory of self-annihilation (bitul ha-yesh). Needless to say, a philosophy which places breakdown of the ego at the top of its agenda, must envision prayer in a way diametrically opposed to that of Rav Soloveitchik. As the scholar Rivkah Schatz-Uffenheimer has already devoted the sixth chapter of her book Quietistic Elements in 18th Century Hasidic Thought (Jerusalem, 1968) to the theme “Prayer: In Its Simple Sense, and Its Place in Hasidism,” I shall not belabor the point. Here are some passages from Maggid Devarav le-Ya’akov, an authoritative collection of the Maggid's aphorisms:

"When one must ask something of the Creator, one should think that his soul is a limb of the Shekhinah, like a drop of the ocean. And he should ask for the Shekhinah which is lacking that thing...

'... a world as immense as this – one should be ashamed and not pray for that which his body lacks, but rather meditate that he is part and parcel of divinity, and since that part [of divinity] is lacking, he is praying. If he prays thus, though his petition might not be granted in the corporeal world, nevertheless, that aspect of divinity benefits on high. This is what is meant by “Seek not greatness for thy sake.” Not for yourself, for that is ulterior. This is pure motivation...

'Man must consider himself as naught, and forget himself completely, and throughout his prayer plea for the Shekhinah…

'When a man prays, let him not put his heart in that physical thing which he asks for, for there is no more ulterior motivation than this. Rather, let him consider that “More than the calf desires to suck, the cow desires to give suck” (TB Pesahim 112a), i.e., God desires to bestow even more than we desire to receive. God has great pleasure bestowing goodness on his creatures – more than the creatures who receive...

'The will of his fearers he does (Psalms 145:19). God makes (ya’aseh) the will of his fearers. Prayer is called “will,” and God longs for the prayer of zaddikim. God puts in the righteous man's mind to pray for something. A God-fearing man truly desires nothing, as he feels he lacks nothing, and is satisfied with whatever God gives him. Therefore, God must implant in his mind some end for which to pray, in order to receive his prayer."

In contradistinction to some truly antinomian movements, Hasidism would not even contemplate abridging the Siddur. Heaven forbid! Nevertheless, the reader senses that the given formulae of the prayers, so laden with wants and desires of an egoic nature, stuck in the Great Maggid's throat as a bone. The solution was to reify the many bakashot. The petitions were to be spiritualized. Man is not to ask for himself but for the suffering Shekhinah. Earthly wants are of no import, only heavenly goals. And if the ego’s craving cannot be put off, it being too permanent a fixture in human life, then it is to be indulged, with the intention that it, too, in the final analysis, is a divine desire. (One is reminded of the two schools of Mussar. One held that taste should be obliterated; its followers would salt their food so heavily that no enjoyment would be derived therefrom. The other school came to terms with taste, advocating that the only realistic solution to the problem would be to consecrate taste itself “for the sake of heaven.”)

Perhaps the chasm which lies between Rav Soloveitchik's conception of prayer and that of the Hasidic masters is not unbridgeable. The early Hasidim too recognized the validity of the prayer of the simple masses, while advocating altruistic prayer for the elite. R. Nahman of Kosov, companion to the Ba’al Shem Tov, said:

“Spiritual men benefit from the prayer of the common man. The masses pray for this world, while men of spirit pray only for the spiritual. Through the prayer of materialistic men, God bestows bounty on the men of spirit.” Also, not all early Hasidic masters were in accord with the Maggid. R. Pinehas of Korets was a dissenting voice: “He used to admonish to pray for a livelihood and other needs, and to believe that God will certainly fulfill his request, and it is a great mizvah, for through this the Shekhinah rises up.”

Yet no matter how one looks at it, hasidic prayer is certainly a far cry from halakhic prayer. Wading through the pages of material Schatz-Uffenheimer has assembled (much of it still in manuscript in Jerusalem), one receives the impression that the early teachers of Hasidism may not have been fully sensitive to the acuity of the problem (or at least they did not express their qualms in writing). While they realized that the prayers were replete with petitions, they did not address the crux of the problem, which is that halakhically speaking, bakasha (petition) is the very essence of prayer. This finely-honed statement of the problem would have to await Rav Schneersohn.

"SeMaG [SeMaK] and RaSHBaZ concluded that prayer on a daily basis and the wording of the prayer is a rabbinic command (mizvah de-rabbanan). However, mi-de-oraita (from the Torah) man is commanded to pray in times of need, for instance, in a time of trouble (as it says, “The Lord will answer you in a time of trouble,” Psalms 20:2). Then prayer is a positive commandment, for God commanded that man ask only Him for deliverance”... Each and every one is obligated to request in prayer the mundane and the spiritual, as it says, “When you are in tribulation and all these things have overtaken you” (Deuteronomy 4:30), etc. Then prayer is mi-de-oraita and proceeds according to Torah. If one requests nothing, and prays by rote, without innovation, the prayer is mi-de-rabbanan. However, “delicious to me are the precepts of Sages” (TB ‘Avodah Zara 35a) – this is prayer which exists only for the sake of communing with the Almighty (le-yahed elohut be-nafsho), devoid of all other desire, as it says, “Whom have I in heaven, and beside You I desire nothing upon earth” (Psalms 73:25). Such a prayer is most exalted."

The passage above requires considerable unpacking. To begin with, the author (who has excerpted Zemah Zedek) situates us within the tradition of Nahmanides, who, as stated earlier, viewed prayer as biblically mandated only in times of communal disaster, though upon closer examination, Zemah Zedek (somewhat reminiscent of R. Hayyim) is, so to speak, reading between the lines of Nahmanides. Not just the appeal at times of national emergency is to be reckoned as de-oraita, but the ongoing dialogue with God, born of life's everyday woes and challenges, constitutes a mizvat 'asseh min ha-torah (positive commandment). (I think it would be fair to say that Zemah Zedek construes Nahmanides’ doctrine much as Rav Soloveitchik portrayed Maimonides’.) What halakhic justification can there be then for the prayer of the lovesick acosmic mystic who, along with the Alter Rebbe (R. Shneur Zalman of Liady), calls out: “Mi li va-shamayim ve-‘imkha lo hafazti va-arez – Ich vill zhe gornisht / Ich vill nit dayn Gan Eden / Ich vill nit dayn Olam Habo / Ich vill nit mehr az dich alein! (I desire nothing / I don’t want Your Paradise / I don’t want Your World to Come / I want only YOU!)” (Psalms 73:25, followed by the Yiddish paraphrase of the Alter Rebbe)?

At this critical juncture, Rav Schneersohn conjures the passage in Tractate ‘Avodah Zarah: “What does it mean, For Your love is more delicious than wine (Song of Songs 1:2)? Said Israel before God: ‘The words of your beloved [sages] are more delicious to me than the wine of Torah [the Written Law] .’ “

One could argue ('a la R. Hayyim) that since in the case of tefillah, we are not dealing with a hiyyuv de-oraita (Torah obligation), but rather with an attempt to maximize one's kiyyum or performance, in a sense, Rav Schneersohn’s mystical option, invoking the saying of the rabbis in Tractate ‘Avodah Zarah, is every much as valid as the exoteric route which aims to achieve a kiyyum de-oraita. True, viewed parochially, the failure to achieve “need awareness” (to use Rav Soloveitchik’s phrase) deprives one's prayer of biblical tenor and reduces it to the level of a rabbinic injunction; nevertheless, in the overall scheme, the interests of prayer, and ultimately, even of Halakha itself, might best be served by just such a rabbinic rite.

RABBI MENACHEM MENDEL OF VORKI: MASTER OF SILENCE

2009-04-21T03:41:00.003-04:00

Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Vorki was the son and successor of Rabbi Yitzchok of Vorki, two major teachers in the line of the Chozeh (“Seer”) of Lublin and Rabbi Simcha Bunim of Pzhys’cha, who continued the development of Chassidism in nineteenth century Poland. The Rebbes of Amshinov, in turn, have carried on this tradition until today.

These stories are excerpts from Martin Buber’s “Tales of the Hasidim: Later Masters” (Schocken Books), translated to English by Olga Marx, pp. 300-302. As Dr. Buber’s renditions of the tales occasionally reflect his philosophical views (as well as his skilled literary touch), we must state that we do not have access to the original Yiddish collections on which these versions are based and cannot vouch for their absolute accuracy. However, since our friends in the Amshinov community have not seen any glaring errors, we decided to post a few selelections from the Buber anthology with this caveat.

Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Vorki: Master of Silence

The Voice

After Rabbi Yitzhak’s death many hasidim came to Vorki for the Feast of Weeks. Among them was Rabbi Benjamin of Lublin, who had been a disciple of the Seer but had gone over to the much-maligned Yehudi, the Seer’s disciple, while his first teacher was still alive. Since Rabbi Benjamin was very old and sickly, he had to lie down soon after his arrival. After prayers Rabbi Yitzhak’s two sons went to see him. “Children,” he said to them, “I wish you’d tell me how we are to interpret the words in the Scriptures: ‘And all the people saw the voice.’ ” Rabbi Yaakov David, the elder son, gave a most perspicacious interpretation, but Rabbi Menahem Mendel, the younger, was silent as usual. “And what have you to say?” asked Rabbi Benjamin.

“I say,” answered Menahem Mendel, “that we must take it to mean: they saw and realized that one must take the voice into oneself and make it one’s own.”

No Speech and No Words

Some time after Rabbi Yitzhak’s death, when each of his sons already had his own congregation, they once met in a town far from the home of either and a banquet was held in their honor. Rabbi David delivered a lengthy sermon but Rabbi Mendel said nothing. “Why don’t you also ‘say Torah’?” asked his brother.

“Concerning the Heavens we read in the psalms,” Mendel replied, “ ‘There is no speech, there are no words, neither is their voice heard. [Yet] their line is gone out through all the earth’ (Psalms 19:4).”

But on another occasion, when a great zaddik asked him why he did not “say Torah [i.e., expound in public],” Mendel replied: “The Talmud says (Pesachim 22b) that Simeon of Emmaus interpreted all the passages in the Scriptures in which the word et [an untranslatable term indicating the object of the verb] is used. But when he came to the verse where this word introduces the command: ‘Thou shalt fear (et) the Lord thy God’ -- he refrained from interpretation.”

A Night of Silence

Once Rabbi Menahem Mendel spent an entire night in the company of his hasidim. No one spoke, but all were filled with great reverence and experienced great elation. Finally the rabbi said: “Well for the Jew who knows that the meaning of ‘One’ is one!”

Speech in Silence

Rabbi Mendel’s hasidim once sat at his table [“tisch,” a public gathering during which the master would deliver mystical teachings] in silence. The silence was so profound that one could hear a fly on the wall. After grace the rabbi of Biala said to his neighbor: “What a table we had today! I was probed so deeply that I thought my veins would burst, but I managed to hold out and answer every question I was asked.”

The Way of Silence

The first time Rabbi Mendel, the son of the zaddik of Vorki, met Rabbi Eleazar, the grandson of the Maggid of Koznitz, the two retired to a room. They seated themselves opposite each other and sat in silence for a whole hour. Then they admitted the others. “Now we are ready,” said Rabbi Mendel.

When Mendel was in Kotzk, the rabbi of that town asked him: “Where did you learn the art of silence?” He was on the verge of answering the question, but then he changed his mind, and practiced his art.

Soundless Cry and Soundless Weeping

Rabbi Mendel once commented on the verse in the Scriptures: “For God hath heard the voice of the lad” (Genesis 21:17). He explained it in this way: “Nothing in the preceding verses indicates that Ishmael cried out. No, it was a soundless cry, and God heard it.”

On another occasion he discussed the verse in the Scriptures which tells about Pharaoh's daughter in these words: “And she opened it, and saw ... a boy that wept” (Exodus 2:6).

“What we should expect to be told,” said he, “is that she heard the child Moses weeping. But the child was weeping inside himself. That is why later on we find the words: ‘and [she] said: This is one of the Hebrews' children’ -- it was the Jewish kind of weeping.”

Basic Attitudes

Rabbi Menahem Mendel of Vorki was asked what constitutes a true Jew. He said: “Three things are fitting for us: upright kneeling, silent screaming, motionless dance.”

The Honest Sleep

It was the day before Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish New Year) and people from all over had come to Vorki and gathered in the House of Study. Some were seated at the tables studying, others who had not been able to find a place for the night were lying on the floor with their heads on their knapsacks, for many of them had come on foot. Just then Rabbi Mendel entered, but the noise those at the tables made was so great that no one noticed him. First he looked at those who were studying, and then at those lying on the floor. “The way these folk sleep,” he said, “pleases me more than the way those others are studying.”

A Beautiful Death

Soon after the death of a zaddik who was a friend of the rabbi of Vorki, one of his hasidim, who had been present at the death, came to Rabbi Mendel and told him about it.

“How was it?” asked Rabbi Mendel.

“Very beautiful,” said the hasid. “It was as though he went from one room into the next.”

“From one room into the next?” said Rabbi Mendel. “No, from one corner of the room into another corner.”

EXPANSES, EXPANSES

2009-04-21T03:29:00.001-04:00

From Ben Zion Bokser’s translation of selections from Orot HaKodesh (“Holy Lights”), in his anthology “Abraham Isaac Kook” (Paulist Press: Classics of Western Spirituality series) pp. 379-380.

Expanses, expanses,

Expanses divine my soul craves.

Confine me not in cages

Of substance or of spirit.

My soul soars the expanses of the heavens,

Walls of heart and walls of deed

Will not contain it.

Morality, logic, custom –

My soul soars above these,

Above all that bears a name,

Above delight,

Above every delight and beauty,

Above all that is exalted and ethereal.

I am love-sick –

I thirst, I thirst for God,

As a deer for water brooks.

Alas, who can describe my pain,

Who will be a violin to express the songs of my grief,

Who will voice my bitterness,

The pain of seeking utterance?

I thirst for truth, not for a conception of truth,

For I ride on its heights,

I am wholly absorbed by truth,

I am wholly pained by the anguish of expression.

How can I utter the great truth

That fills my whole heart?

Who will disclose to the multitude,

To the world, to all creatures,

To nations and individuals alike,

The sparks abounding in treasures

Of light and warmth

Stored within my soul?

I see the flames rise upward

Piercing the heavens,

But who feels, who can express their might?

I am not like one of those heroes

Who have found whole worlds in their inwardness.

Whether the world knew of their wealth or not,

It was all the same to them.

These herds of sheep walking on two feet –

Of what use was it if they knew

Man's true height,

And what loss in their not knowing?

I am bound to the world,

All creatures, all people are my friends,

Many parts of my soul

Are intertwined with them,

But how can I share with them my light?

Whatever I say

Only covers my vision,

Dulls my light.

Great is my pain and great my anguish,

O, my God, my God, be a help in my trouble,

Find for me the graces of expression,

Grant me language and the gift of utterance,

I shall declare before the multitudes

My fragments of Your truth, O my God.

THE PERCEPTION OF UNIVERSALITY

2009-04-21T03:20:00.001-04:00

From Ben Zion Bokser’s translation of selections from Orot HaKodesh (“Holy Lights”), in his anthology “Abraham Isaac Kook” (Paulist Press: Classics of Western Spirituality series).

The Perception of Universality

It is the nature of a spiritual perception to embrace everything in togetherness. This is its distinctive characteristic, which differentiates it from an ordinary intellectual perception, which is always concerned with particulars, and which brings them together with difficulty into general categories.

Those souls that are especially drawn to see things in their inwardness are attached to universality with all their strength. They feel great pain when they are forced through their own habits or through the influence of their environment to particular concerns, whether spiritual or practical. But they take comfort in the realization that life imposes the necessity to concern oneself with all the conditioning factors through which ideals may be carried to realization. They are, however, moved by a great desire to reduce the conditioning factors, and, as soon as possible, to kindle the light of the ideal (Orot HaKodesh, Vol. 1, p. 41).

THE MYSTICAL DIMENSION THAT EMBRACES EVERYTHING

2009-04-21T03:19:00.002-04:00

From Ben Zion Bokser’s translation of selections from Orot HaKodesh (“Holy Lights”), in his anthology “Abraham Isaac Kook” (Paulist Press: Classics of Western Spirituality series).

The Mystical Dimension That Embraces Everything

Philosophy embraces only a given part of the spiritual world. By nature it is detached from whatever is outside its sphere. By this itself it is fragmented in its being. The grace of perceiving how all feelings and tendencies, from the small to the large, are interdependent, how they act on each other, how separate worlds are organically related – this it cannot portray. For this reason, it must always remain an aristocratic discipline, set apart for special individuals.

Greater than this is the mystical quest, which by its nature penetrates to the depths of all thought, all feelings, all tendencies, all aspirations, and all worlds, from beginning to end. It recognizes the inner unity of all existence, the physical and the spiritual, the great and the small, and for this reason there is, from its perspective, no bigness or smallness. Everything is important, and everything is invested with marked value. There is no lost gesture, there is no vain imagining.

Corresponding to this there is no limit to the possibility of ascending toward the heights. There is no wisdom or perception concerning which one may say that it is enough, and that it cannot be linked to a higher illumination, in comparison with which it seems in a state of dimness. Even the Supernal Crown [“Keter,” the highest of the ten sefirot] which is a dazzling light, a pure light, is darkness in comparison with the Cause of causes, before whom all lights are turned into darkness (Tikkuney Zohar).

Because of this advantage, mystical vision, in being able to embrace within itself all thoughts and all sparks of the spiritual, is alone fit to chart for us the way to go.

Therefore, the mystical dimension is the soul of religion, the soul of the Torah. From its substance derives all that is revealed, all that is circumscribed, all that can be conceived by logic, and all that can be carried out in actions. The far- reaching unity of the mystical dimension embraces all creatures, all conditions of thought and feeling, all forms of poetry and exposition, all expressions of life, all aspirations and hopes, all objectives and ideals, from the lowest depths to the loftiest heights. The source of life deriving from the highest realm of the divine – which only the light of prophecy, the clear illumination, the light seen by Adam [prior to his fall], that the supernal lights can disclose – streams into and passes through all stirrings of thought, all movements of the spirit.

Only the mysterious mind of the Supreme One fixes the particular formations, what shall be regarded as first and what as last, which phenomenon shall obscure the unity because of its lowly state, and which is above it because of its greatness. “And before the One what can you count?” (Sefer Yezirah, ch. 1, Mishnah 7). (Orot HaKodesh, Vol. 1, pp. 9-10).

A SUMMONS TO HIGHER CONTEMPLATION

2009-04-20T06:33:00.002-04:00

From Ben Zion Bokser’s translation of selections from Orot HaKodesh (“Holy Lights”), in his anthology “Abraham Isaac Kook” (Paulist Press: Classics of Western Spirituality series).

A Summons to Higher Contemplation

If you will it . . . observe the light of the divine presence that pervades all existence. Observe the harmony of the heavenly realm, how it pervades every aspect of life, the spiritual and the material, which are before your eyes of flesh and your eyes of the spirit.

Contemplate the wonders of creation, the divine dimension of their being, not as a dim configuration that is presented to you from the distance but as the reality in which you live.

Know yourself, and your world; know the meditations of your heart, and of every thinker; find the source of your own life, and of the life beyond you, around you, the glorious splendor of the life in which you have your being.

The love that is astir in you – raise it to its basic potency and its noblest beauty, extend it to all its dimensions, toward every manifestation of the soul that sustains the universe, whose splendor is dimmed only because of the deficiency of the person viewing it.

Look at the lights, in their inwardness. Let not the names, the words, the idiom and the letters confine your soul. They are under your control, you are not under theirs.

Ascend toward the heights, because you are of mighty prowess, you have wings to soar with, wings of mighty eagles. Do not fail them, lest they fail you; seek for them, and they will at once be ready for you.

The forms that robe reality are precious and holy to us, and especially to all who are limited in their spiritual perception. But always, when we approach a life of enlightenment, we must not swerve from the perspective that light flows from the incomprehensible to the comprehensible, by way of emanation, from the light of the En Sof (“Infinite One”).

And we are summoned to share in the heavenly delight, in all the particularized perceptions, which are included in this universal whole, from which all the proliferations of life are engendered (Orot HaKodesh, Vol. 1, pp. 83-84).

I LIKE THIS SECRET WALKING

2009-04-20T06:28:00.002-04:00

From Charles Reznikoff, “By the Waters of Manhattan” (New Directions), p. 68.

I like this secret walking

in the fog;

unseen, unheard,

among the bushes

thick with drops;

the solid path invisible

a rod away –

and only the narrow present is alive.

CURING DELUSION

2009-04-20T06:24:00.002-04:00

The following excerpt is actually a meditative visualization exercise from the writings of a somewhat obscure early 20th century Hasidic thinker. The translation below by Rabbi Bezalel Naor appears in his “Lights of Prophecy” (Orthodox Union), pp. 50-52. We have taken the liberty of adding the subtitle. A complete volume of Rabbi Eckstein’s work was translated by Yehoshus Starrett and published as “Visions of a Compassionate World: Guided Imagery for Spiritual Growth and Social Transformation” (Urim).

Curing Delusion

How is it possible to be cured of those delusions [engendered by ego]? Regarding this question too, Hasidism gives a most simple solution: by other images which are true. It would be proper for us to become accustomed already in our youth to working with the imaginative ability which is in us, to develop and perfect it, in order to enable us to picture in our minds true images, so as to gradually weaken the vain delusions within and be cured of them....

To begin, we shall explain the imagination which illumines us and opens our eyes to see our true situation and value in the world and our terrible lowliness. In order to reach this, one should commence thus: First we shall attempt to picture in our minds by means of the imaginative ability within us, the planet Earth. We shall imagine that we see from afar the entire globe with its continents and all the seas which encircle them. We should picture too all the nations which inhabit the con tinents, according to their languages and borders, and the total population of each nation and tongue. All this we should picture vividly, as if seeing this vista right before us with our corporeal sense of vision. Initially this imaging will not affect us much, for it is as yet novel. Our imagination is yet weak, for we have not yet made much use of it, but gradually, if we apply ourselves and exercise daily (and when possible, several times a day), we shall behold this, with our spiritual eyes and our minds' eyes, with increasing clarity and vividness, as if it were possible to touch this vision with the hands.

We should imagine not only people, but also the other creations found in the world: All the animals and beasts with which we are acquainted, where they are found, their appearances and natures – the multitude of predators in the deserts and forests; the domestic animals, how men use them and benefit from them; other tiny creatures, such as flies, and those large, such as elephants; serpents and reptiles, how they creep, run, rest, eat, are born and die. All the species of birds, the endless variations of chirping and singing, sung in air, in trees, in fields and vineyards. The multitude of fish in seas and rivers, how they swim, are swallowed, born, captured and die. All the species of plants, grains, vegetables, grasses, thorns, flowers, gardens, orchards, fields, vineyards and forests. All those as we know them: their appearance, how they grow, develop, mature, dry, wither and fall. All this we should picture in great detail and specificity, and again as a whole, as we know them, either directly or through reading and education.

After a certain amount of time – depending on individual nature and assiduity – this project will become quite clear, we will see these scenes with great clarity, until we are affected and feel how this great vision influences and charms us, like the man who has been moved by the beauty of nature which he sees with his physical eyes. Then we shall proceed further and attempt to picture the place where we are now standing, and try to present ourselves among all those people and creations. At first it will be exceedingly difficult to picture this, for the ego and self-importance so deeply ingrained in us will resist and not allow us in any way to become lost and submerged in the crowd of all those creatures, will not allow us to sacrifice our imaginary grandeur, and see the not so pleasant truth, which is our terrible lowliness and smallness. However, habit will do its part; eventually we will succeed in overcoming all blocks, and it shall become increasingly easy to picture with our gift of imagination this marvelous vision.

R. Menahem Eckstein, Tena’ey ha-Nefesh le-Hassagat ha-Hasidut / Conditions of the Soul for Attainment of Hasidut (Vienna, 5621) 2-4.

DESIRE FOR WHITE

2009-04-20T04:36:00.003-04:00

The following is the first of three parts of “Desire for White,” which must rank as one of the great mystical poems of the 20th century, published together with Allen Afterman’s “Kabbalah and Consciousness” (The Sheep Meadow Press). Contemporary Jewish poet Rodger Kamenetz writes in his introduction: “The ‘Desire for White’ – the desire for God, is an impossiblity that is also our obliteration. White is both the consummation and obliteration of all light – yet we live, as the poet says in his poems, perpetually on the other side, even while affirming that ‘From your side’ – God’s side – ‘light doesn’t die.’ And the yearning is painful; in his desire for white, ‘the eyelids are cut from my eyes.’ God has many names in Jewish mystical thought, but the most intimate, the one Afterman chooses in his poetry, is ‘you.’ Not even with a capital ‘y,’ but the you we desire to be intimate with and familiar to…”

Desire For White
Allen Afterman

I

PREFACE

Everything, its open mouth

lipless

its gaze cloudless –

everything, its one desire

soundless

desire, of the inner colors of white

1

From your side

light doesn't die

only forms of light

tiny screams like isolated stars,

from your side

it is simple –

no one is lost

nothing can be lost

emerging from light

in the focusing of light

union resolves into the separation

of a man turning in a room

his eyes wide with meditation

appearing as you disappear,

in the closing aperture

death appears

Turning against you

for what you let happen

for what is human,

against you

to the point

no point is left

not burned through by bitterness

to its emptiness

nothing we have done

not purified

not atoned for

by pyramids of children,

to the point

there is no point

left without you

2

Everything that happens

is you

everything human

is a gift to yourself,

a sacrifice

to yourself,

my mouth

is the

prism

for your silence

for your absence

for my life made of death

The eyelids are cut from my eyes –

I wait to become

what will happen

what you want,

I am yours

your boy

your toy

my voice scraping through a hole

is your wind

your speech

3

The shell

is form –

is the dome

the skull

is the density of nothingness,

its intensity

is this thought

a wind hiding silence

Silence that is your

idea of time

your sense of space

that is every direction's disappearance

your face's disappearance

into non-existence

into betrayal,

that is your choice

of our choice

between losses,

choice that must fail

iron in it

agony

until there is no choice

except to find

the nothingness

of your face

that alone fills

space's dome

time's skull

that becomes silence

that becomes water

that is beauty,

that fills why

that fills all but why

5

In the opening of the psyche

by the mind itself

so much delicate destruction

is involved

dissolving its reality

too much for a man

grasping its broken pieces

The world is

too good

too evil

too sexual

to do what you want,

to reveal your existence

hidden in cries against your injustice,

hidden in trenches

in freedom

6

After death

the sun

opens wordless

like a command it is quiet

Pyres are burning prisms

rain falling –

peaceful as it was

Spring won't be prevented

flowers like excited eyes glint in mud

The ground underfoot virulent

WHY MEDITATE?

2009-04-06T06:56:00.001-04:00

The following is an excerpt from Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, “Jewish Meditation: A Practical Guide” (Schocken Books), pp. 8-14.

Why Meditate?

Meditation, which is thought directed by will, can bring many benefits. Most people learn how to think as very young children, and throughout their adult lives, they do not think any differently than they did as children. That is to say, most people use their minds in a manner not essentially different from the way they did when they were six years old. Through meditation, one can control the thought process and learn to think in new ways, thus gaining new and richer mind experiences.

It is significant that in Kabbalah, one’s normal mode of thinking is referred to as the “mentality of childhood” (mochin de-katnuth). More advanced modes of thought and states of consciousness, on the other hand, are referred to as the “mentality of adulthood” (mochin de-gadluth). One learns these methods of “adult thought” through meditation, through which one develops the ability to transcend the ways of thinking one learned as a child.

In chapter 1, for example, we discussed how different parts of the mind act independently. Thus, a person might want to concentrate on a task at hand, but at the same time other concerns pop into his mind, disturbing his concentration. While one part of the mind is trying to focus on a problem, other parts may be drawing attention to different ideas. As long as this is true, concentration is not complete.

For this reason, a person usually uses only a small portion of the mind. As much as he might try to concentrate on a thought or task, parts of his mind are engaged in other activities. Sometimes the rest of the mind is merely passive. At other times however, other parts of the mind may actually be acting in opposition to one’s concentration. Unless one is able to control the entire mind, one cannot develop full concentration.

People often think of concentration in terms of problem-solving. It can also involve the most basic of experiences, Suppose, for example, that you are trying to experience the beauty of a rose, At the same time, thoughts about your business may be pushing their way into your mind. Your attention does not stay focused on the rose and you cannot see the rose totally, in all its beauty.

But there is another factor that prevents you from experiencing the rose completely. Earlier we discussed the spontaneous images that arise in the field of vision when the eyes are closed. Actually, you can also see these images with your eyes open in a darkened room. Once you are aware of these images, you can even see them with your eyes open in a well-lit room. The reason you are normally not aware of these images is that they are very faint compared with the images entering your mind from your open eyes. Nevertheless, they are constantly with you.

Now suppose you are trying to appreciate the beauty of a rose. No matter how hard you try to focus your mind on the rose, the image of the rose is competing with the self-generated images in the mind. It is as if there were a screen of extraneous imagery between you and the rose, preventing you from seeing it with total clarity.

In a meditative state, however, it is possible to turn off the interference and concentrate totally on the rose. As we shall see, with training, one can turn off the spontaneous self-generated images and thus remove the screen. The beauty of the flower when seen in these higher states of awareness is indescribable to someone who has never experienced it. The most I can say is that the rose actually appears to radiate beauty. This can be true of anything else in the world.

Another important goal of meditation is thus enhanced awareness and perception. The greater the portion of the mind focused on an experience, the more the experience will be enhanced. When every cell in your brain is tuned in to experiencing the rose, the experience is indescribably different from what you would see in your usual state of consciousness.

This works in one of two ways. The most simple way in which meditation works is to quiet down all parts of the mind not concentrating on the immediate experience. In this model the experience is not enhanced directly, but rather all interference with it is removed. Thus, you may be looking at the rose with no greater awareness than before, but without the mental static, it will appear much more vivid. It is somewhat like trying to tune in to a faint radio station; even if you cannot amplify the volume, you will hear the station more clearly if you can eliminate the static. This mode of meditation can be reached through most meditative techniques and is the state of consciousness most readily attainable in its lower levels.

The second way in which meditation can enhance an experience is by focusing more of the mind on it. Ultimately, as one becomes a more experienced meditator, one can learn to focus the entire mind on a single experience. This is analogous to turning up the volume of a radio or using a system of greater fidelity. This level is attained in the more advanced states of meditation, and one can use it to exert the total force of one’s mind on anything one desires.

Of course, neither mode is generally attained without the other. When you quiet other areas of the mind, you also focus more of the mind on the experience. Conversely, focusing more of the mind on the experience almost always involves blocking out other experiences and thoughts.

This increased awareness can be used in many ways. Meditation can be used to gain a greater and clearer awareness of the world around us. Looking at something like a rose while in a meditative state of consciousness, one can see much more in it than one would otherwise see. It has been said that one can see the entire universe in a grain of sand. In a high meditative state, this is actually possible. As one’s capacity for concentration increases, one can also become aware of’subtle phenomena that are not otherwise detectable. Thus, the world of the meditator may become much richer than that of those who have never had the experience.

Here again, there is a language barrier. If one has never experienced these phenomena, then one cannot comprehend it description of them. The situation can be better understood through analogy.

For the average sighted person, a page of braille leels like bumpy paper and nothing more. A blind person, however, does not have his sense of sight competing with his sense of touch, and hence experiences less “static.” Furthermore, since he uses his sense of touch more often, his tactile sense is enhanced. With practice, he learns to decipher the patterns of raised dots as letters and words. It is true that a sighted person can also learn to read braille, but those who have mastered it usually read with their eyes closed, so that their faculty of sight will not interfere with their sense of touch.

Reading braille is a good example of an experience that is meaningless to a nonsensitized person but has a world of meaning for a sensitized person. Many such experiences may exist in the world, and meditation can teach one to “read” these messages.

Another analogy may express this even more clearly. Many blind people learn to navigate by listening to the subliminal echoes given off by buildings and other large objects. This is why blind people often tap their canes constantly; they listen to the echoes produced by the tapping, and the echoes warn them of obstructions. The strange thing is that blind people claim that they do not actually hear these echoes, but sense them in a manner that they cannot describe. Rather than speak of’ this experience as hearing an echo, a blind person will describe it as sensing an obstruction. These echoes are not perceptible to a sighted person since the flood of information experienced through vision overwhelms them completely. Moreover, there is a learning period during which a blind person becomes sensitized to these echoes.

On a more esoteric level, in Tibetan medicine, as well as in Kabbalah, a number of illnesses can be diagnosed merely by feeling the pulse. The subtle differences in the feel and rhythm of the pulse can provide a skilled practitioner with a picture of the body’s state of health with uncanny accuracy. Observing the Dalai Lama’s personal physician make such a diagnosis, a famous doctor reported that he had witnessed something bordering on the supernatural.

The secret, however, is twofold. First, the practitioner must learn to enter a deep state of concentration in which the pulse beat fills his entire world of sensation and the subtlest variations in it stand out clearly and vividly. The practitioner is thus able to garner a great deal of information from the pulse beat. To him, every pulse beat is an encyclopedia of information about the body. Once he learns how to “read” the pulse beat in this manner, he can then learn what every variation means. People who have attempted to learn this technique report that it can take as much as fifteen years to master it well enough to make an accurate diagnosis.

A number of Judaic sources speak of meditation as a means of attaining extrasensory perception (ESP) in such areas as telepathy, mind-reading, clairvoyance, and predicting the future. These powers may also involve increased awareness. In the ordinary state of consciousness, ESP signals received by the mind may be overshadowed by the perceptual information entering the brain, as well as by the mind’s natural “static” or “noise.” As discussed earlier, this static consists of thoughts and images spontaneously produced by the mind which are not under the conscious mind’s control. In the meditative state, when this noise or static is quieted, ESP phenomena may become more readily discernible. A number of ESP experiments appear to indicate that this is true, and that meditation enhances the effect. Unfortunately, as in the case of most ESP experiments, results depend on so many variables that unambiguous conclusions are difficult to obtain.

Another purpose of meditation is to attune the mind to certain truths (or Truths with a capital T). When a person tries to explore questions such as the meaning of existence, the true goal of life, or the ultimate nature of reality, the answers remain elusive, tickling the edge of the mind. Possible answers hover on the borderline of consciousness, but are so subtle that they cannot be discerned through the static of the mind.

One of the most elusive truths is knowledge of the self. Generally we see ourselves only through a thick veil of ego. For this reason, it is impossible to see ourselves as others see us. Through meditation, however, we can remove the veil of ego, and see ourselves with a degree of objectivity. In this manner, we can look at ourselves objectively as a third person. We are then able to see our own shortcomings and overcome them.

The self-awareness engendered by meditation can also strengthen the ego when needed. Thus, a person with a weak self-image and feelings of inadequacy can learn to be more self-assured. He can examine his motivations and learn to become more inner-directed, doing the things he desires, and not simply what others expect of him. He can look objectively at his relationships with others and learn to improve them.

One of the most powerful uses of meditation is to gain an awareness of the spiritual. Although we may be surrounded by a sea of spirituality, we are not usually aware of it. Spiritual sensations are quite faint and usually overshadowed by the world of the senses. Even in a state of sensory deprivation, the self-generated thoughts of the mind tend to obscure spiritual sensation. However, if a person can quiet down all extraneous thoughts, he can then “tune in” to the spiritual. This tuning-in is what is known as the mystical experience. In this sense, meditation is the most important technique of mystics all over the world.

The most vivid experiences were those attained by the prophets in the Bible. In the biblical sense, a prophet is more than a person who merely sees the future. Rather, he is one who has such a strong experience of the spiritual that he can use it to garner information. Sometimes this information includes knowledge of the future, hence the popular conception of a prophet as one who sees what has not yet occurred. Nevertheless, the true prophet has access to many other truths besides knowledge of the future. It is important to realize the important role that meditation played in the careers of the prophets of Israel.

On its highest level, meditation can provide a person with an experience of God. This is certainly the highest possible spiritual experience. Our perception of God is often clouded by ego and anthropomorphism, so that we tend to see God as a mirror image of ourselves. By freeing the mind of these encumbrances, meditation can help us to open our minds totally to the experience of God. In many religious traditions, including Judaism, this is the highest goal of meditation.

IN SOLITUDE

2009-04-03T04:30:00.001-04:00

From Rabbi Chaim Ephraim Zaitchik, “Sparks of Mussar” (Feldheim), translated by E. van Handel, pp. 121-123. We have added several explanatory notes in brackets.

Rabbi Yosef Yozel Hurwitz (1848-1919), known in Yiddish as as the “Alter” (or “Elder”) of Novhardok, was a leading disciple of Rabbi Yisrael Lipkin of Salant (1810-1883), founder of the Lithuanian “Mussar” movement, which emphasized spiritual refinement in order to come close to G-d. However, the Alter of Novhardok was a master teacher in his own right, who paved an original path in the Mussar tradition.

In Solitude

R’ Yosef Yozel spent many years learning Torah and serving G-d in solitude.

His first house of solitude was in the home of his father-in-law in Slobodka, where he had a separate room with a locked door. His meager meals were passed through a small opening. He planned to remain there for seven years, but after a year and a half he suffered a lung disease, and R’ Yitzchok Elchonon ordered him to come out.

Once R’ Zalman Sirotzkin was traveling on the train, when he saw R’ Yosef Yozel look out the window at the fields and forests, longing to be along with his Maker. R’ Yosef Yozel murmured, “If someone would build me a little house in the woods where I could find solitude, I would promise him a share in the world to come.”

Stirred by R’ Yosef Yozel’s longing, R’ Zalman immediately agreed to fulfill his wish.

Driving R’ Yosef Yozel home one Erev Shabbos, the wagoner lost his way, and they were forced to spend Shabbos in the house of a villager. At first R’ Yosef Yozel was distressed, and he wondered why circumstances had turned out this way. But he soon saw that indeed man’s steps are directed by G-d.

The villager bore a grudge against R’ Zalman, now deceased. All day Shabbos the villager complained to R’ Yosef Yozel about R’ Zalman, while R’ Yosef Yozel tried to convince the villager to forgive him, in view of the fact that the latter had already atoned for his sin through death. At first the villager refused to budge from his position, but he finally succumbed to R’ Yosef Yozel’s persuasion, and granted the deceased complete forgiveness.

Then R’ Yosef Yozel understood why the wagoner had lost his way, and he said: "See how great is the mitzvah of helping the public come closer to G-d! Because the deceased had done such a mitzvah, G-d arranged for me to lodge in this villager’s house in order to acquire forgiveness for his soul.”

In his little house in the wood R’ Yosef Yozel shut himself off from the rest of the world. He had a shtender [lectern] there so high it reached his nose. That way while he was learning at night, the effort of standing on tiptoe kept him awake.

There was a time when he returned home from his house of solitude in time for Kiddush Shabbos evening, and after bidding farewell to Shabbos with havdalah, he returned. The whole week no one was permitted to go to him, and on Shabbos he did not speak at all.

In the period of his solitude, he hid his deeds from people -- even the members of his household and his closest disciples.

From time to time he would travel to a town to establish a yeshiva and a rosh mesivta [administrator] and a dean; then he would return to his solitude. He did not reveal his activities in spreading Torah.

Only after the outbreak of World War I, when the Novhardok Yeshiva fled deep into Russia, did it become known that R’ Yosef Yozel had already been there, establishing yeshivas.

During this period of solitude, he came Erev Pesach in the afternoon to bake the matzos with all the hidurim [i.e., according to highest standards]. In the midst of preparing the dough, he suddenly realized that his action would bring shame to the rabbi of the city, for people would say, “Look at how meticulous that recluse is in keeping all the hidurim of the mitzvos! We haven’t seen this in our own rabbi.” Thereupon R’ Yosef Yozel got up and left right in the middle of preparing the dough (taking care, of course, not to let it become chometz).

One night his wife dreamed that his opponents had planted counterfeit bills in his house of solitude and then informed the police that R’ Yosef Yozel was running a counterfeiting operation there. At dawn she hastened to the house of solitude, found the bills, and burned them. A short while later the police came to search, but found nothing.

Even after he emerged as a public figure, he would repair at times to his house of solitude. Once when he went to his house in the woods at midnight, he found to his surprise that a talmid [disciple] who had come during the day was sleeping over. In order to prevent the talmid from discovering his rebbe’s practice of going at midnight to seclude himself, R’ Yosef Yozel left hurriedly before he could be recognized.

FINDING THE SHABBAT WITHIN

2009-04-02T06:25:00.001-04:00

From Dovid Sears, “The Tree that Stands Beyond Space: Rebbe Nachman of Breslov on the Mystical Experience” (Breslov Research Institute), pp. 70-73. End notes have been omitted for this online version, although we have restored several to the text.

Finding the Shabbat Within

From Reb Noson's Likutey Halakhot

The paradigm of the Shabbat is a potent remedy for any confusion that may beset us, whatever its cause. Amid all the conflicting desires, emotions, and evil thoughts we may experience, we must search for the aspect of the Shabbat. This is the nullification of the self to the Ultimate Reality.

Thus, the Torah instructs us, “Remember the Shabbat day and sanctify it” (Exodus 20:8). Similarly, our Sages observe, “Remember it from the first [echad] toward the Shabbat [meaning, “Remember from the first day of the week by counting toward Shabbat.” The latter phrase also may be understood to mean, “Remember the Divine Oneness (Echad) on the Shabbat.” The Shabbat is the aspect of “sit and do not act,” the aspect of sh’vitah, rest and cessation of activity.

This is good advice for all the difficulties we may encounter: we should simply nullify ourselves for a time and remind ourselves of the Ultimate Reality. Anyone in the world, without exception, can accomplish this and thus merge into the Infinite Divine Light. It is impossible to explain this further, because “everyone must understand according to the capacity of his heart” (Zohar I, 103b). Nevertheless, all of Israel believes that this is the ultimate spiritual goal and our hope for all eternity. Every person, whatever he may be, whatever may happen to him, can nullify himself to God, even in the midst of his confusions and problems. This is the paradigm of the Shabbat, the paradigm of sh'vitah (rest and cessation). Through this, we can destroy all disturbing thoughts, all intellectual entanglements and false wisdoms, and direct all of our doings toward the Ultimate Reality that is beyond time and change. This is the aspect of the Shabbat and the principle that “the mind is nourished first.” That is, our eating and mundane activities, even the necessity of attending to our physical needs, should be directed to the Shabbat alone -- to true wisdom and the essence of the mind.

All this is implicit in Rebbe Nachman's tale, “The Exchanged Children. “ At the end of the story a garden, which alludes to the Garden of Eden, is described. [No one can enter the garden without being pursued by invisible terrors and confusions.] However, the hero vanquishes these terrors and confusions by standing beside [the statue of the unidentified human form, which symbolizes] the Shabbat. Thus, our Sages state that the Shabbat protected Adam after he had tasted the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge (Zohar II, 138a) (Likutey Halakhot, Shabbat 6:5, 8).

Non-Doing

The main strategy for taming the mind is the practice of “sitting and not acting” in thought (see Likutey Moharan II, 122). Even if you already have allowed your thoughts to wander and your mind has strayed into evil or disturbing realms, if you seek to undo your error by struggling with your thoughts, you will only become more deeply entangled. Therefore, the best advice is to “sit and not act” in thought, at least from now on. In the midst of your mental turmoil, let your mind stand still and rest by disengaging your attention from the flow of thoughts.

Ultimately this requires complete nullification of the ego. This is accomplished by remembering God's Presence and effacing yourself completely before the Infinite Light.

This is the paradigm of the Shabbat. You should strive to remember the Shabbat constantly, drawing its holiness upon yourself even during the week [i.e., in the realm of the profane]. Then you will discern the openings in the very midst of your confusing thoughts.

The practice of self-effacement is beneficial to all [even if at first one succeeds only intermittently]. However a great master like Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananyah [who debated the Wise Men of Athens, as recounted in Bekhorot 8b] was capable of nullifying himself at every moment through the paradigm of the Shabbat. Therefore, he was able to enter the gates of the Wise Men of Athens [who symbolize egoistic thinking and secular philosophy] and defeat them utterly (Likutey Halakhot, Shabbat 6:8).

Silence of the Shabbat

On the Shabbat we are forbidden to discuss our mundane affairs [i.e., business matters and the like]. Rather, we should speak words of Torah and prayer and praises to God, singing zemirot (songs) of the Shabbat and thanking God wholeheartedly and with great joy that He has mercifully conferred upon us this precious gift of the Shabbat from among His hidden treasures.

The Shabbat transcends speech -- yet all speech comes forth from the Shabbat. It is the supernal silence above speech, the paradigm of “the fence for wisdom (chokhmah) is silence” (Avot 3:13).

Kabbalistically this corresponds to the sefirah of Keter (“Crown”). In terms of our Divine service, it corresponds to the quality of waiting.

Speech is bound up with the sefirah of Chokhmah (“Wisdom”), as the verse states, “God will give wisdom, from His mouth...” (Proverbs 2:6). However, wisdom and speech spring forth from the sefirah of Keter, the transcendent silence, the “fence for wisdom.” This is why we must be silent before we speak, when we need to collect our thoughts.

Similarly, we must pause between words, however slightly, as our Sages state, “If a word is worth one coin, silence is worth two” (Megillah 18a), for silence is both the source of speech and its tikkun. This concept is also suggested by the verse that refers to “a wise man (chakham) among the silent, understanding whispered mysteries” (Isaiah3:3). Thus, speech is elicited from the paradigm of the Shabbat that corresponds to the sefirah of Keter, the aspect of the “covering of coverings,” which is the mystery of silence.

On the Shabbat, it is forbidden to speak anything but words that come forth from the supernal silence, words of yishuv ha-da’at (mindfulness, or mental focus), words of faith through which one may cleave to the Infinite One, as the verse states, “I will make known Your faithfulness with my mouth” (Psalms 89:2). [That is, our words bear this quality of da’at because they are rooted in the level of faith that transcends intellect.] Therefore, on the Shabbat, we praise God by singing, “A psalm, a song of the Shabbat day: it is good to praise God...” (Psalms 92:1,2) -- for all praises and words of holiness emerge from the silence of the Shabbat (Likutey Halakhot, Shabbat 7:43, abridged).