I took a few minutes today to look over the mention of Tzora'at in the Torah. Tzora'at refers to some sort of skin disease. The usual translation is leprosy, but from what I understand, it is not known what disease it is exactly. The discussion is found in Leviticus 13-14, in parshas Tazria and Metsora.
A quick read is that the first section is about deciding when a person has Tzora'at, which is mostly about a Cohen (priest) coming to look at the person. The Cohen then makes a determination if the person is clean or unclean depending on the color of the skin, the depth of the skin disease, and the color of the hair growing in the affected area. If a person is unclean, they are isolated from the community for seven days at which point they are checked again. If they are determined clean, they can re-enter the community, but they need to go through a very elaborate cleansing ritual which involved shaving all the hair off of their head (eyebrows included) and sacrificing sin and guilt offerings. The blood of the offerings is put on several places on the person's body and then they are considered clean.
The first thing that stuck me was that the diagnosis is done by looking - it's entirely visual. The Cohen must be there is person, and they must look at the afflicted person. I have to study it more to see the role of the Cohen in the healing, but it seems that they declare a person as impure, wait, then declare them pure and perform the purification ritual to allow them to re-enter the community. (I will write another post soon on my thoughts about purity and impurity.) So the simple read is that the Cohen's role is to know when a person can or cannot be ritually pure, and help them become pure when it's possible. This bears more thought.
One passage that particularly struck me was Leviticus 13:13:
If someone has Tzora'at, they are impure, but if it has covered his entire body, so that he has no healthy skin at all, then he is pure. The following passage states that if "living skin" re-appears, then he is immediately impure.
In Chinese medicine, one of the basic principles is that Yin can transform into Yang, and Yang into Yin, and extreme Yin can transform into extreme Yang. A simple example is hypothermia. One of the warning signs that someone is entering hypothermia is that they start feeling warm when it is freezing outside. They become so cold that the Yin transforms into Yang and they begin to feel warm.
So it is in this case, when someone has become completely transformed by the impurity such that there is nothing pure remaining about them, they are transformed into a state of purity. It's as if the disease itself, by completely taking over the body, has purified them. This strikes me as a third possibility, they are pure, impure, or extreme impure that becomes pure.
This would also suggest that there is a state of extreme pure that becomes impure, though I don't know what that would look like but the myth of Icarus comes to mind. Perhaps there are those that try to get too close to God only to have it destroy their body.
The role of the Cohen is also generally considered the one who blesses. My hope is that this study will help me understand what exactly is the blessing that we give, and how to do it.
Showing posts with label Cohen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cohen. Show all posts
Monday, December 22, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
A family story about being a Cohen
I was just reading something my father wrote last year and came across this passage:
By the way, my father’s synagogue was basically a store front kind of place, and the people in it were all from Ostrova. My father and I were the only Kohanim in the congregation, so at the important holidays the few Leviim would wash our hands and we would bless the congregation.Given my reconnection this past Shabbat, I found this very interesting and timely.
Every one, of course, knew each other. It wasn’t a big congregation, all poor people who couldn’t afford a Rabbi, so everything was done by the people themselves.
On Saturday, after services, there would be a small piece of cake and some schnapps, so I got used to strong liquor from when I was a child. I wore tzitzit till I was sixteen, and in my second year in college, when I guess it got too embarrassing for me.
At some point one of the writers, who must have been widowed, for one of the Jewish newspapers, not an Ostrovan, joined the synagogue, and many of the congregants (the word doesn’t feel right, but it fits) would vie to have him come for Sabbath lunch – he was, after all, an educated man.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Receiving the blessing of the Cohanim
I went to the Amika-Debira minyan this morning. It's a wonderful place to pray, they pray with a lot of Ruah (spirit) and they sing almost all of the prayers. Which makes for a very enjoyable, though long service.
One difference between praying here in Jerusalem and in the states is Birkat Cohanim, the priestly blessing. It's done during the leader's repetition of the Amidah. The Cohanim (those descended from the priests of the temple) go to the front of the room, say a short blessing, and then bless those assembled. Outside of Isreal, it is done only on High Holidays, if it's done at all, but here in Israel, it's done all the time.
When I first got here, I remember seeing it done and staring amazed at the people up front with the Talitim over their heads blessing the congregation. I am a Cohen, but I'd never done the Birkat Cohanim. I felt an urge to, but always felt held back because I had no idea what it meant or how it was done. So when the Cohanim would go up front, I would stay in my seat. On a Shabbat morning, the Birkat Cohanim is done twice, once during Shacharit (morning prayer), and once during musaf (additional prayer).
At some point during Shacharit today, I got to thinking about how I heal. This past week, I was explaining to someone about my approach to healing (in Hebrew) and mentioned that I study shamanism. "Shaman?" She asked, "That's a kind of Cohen (priest), isn't it?" It got me thinking that she was correct and that perhaps what I do could best be termed "Cohenic Healing" or something like that. I realized that I don't really know what that means and it might be a good idea to go through the Torah and look at all the examples of when the Cohens acted as healers.
About then, it came time for the first Birkat Cohanim. I saw only one person go up front and give the blessing (there are usually three or four people as all the Cohanim present give the blessing). We then took a break for kiddush and I put my thoughts on hold. When we gathered again for the Torah reading, I realized that the only other Cohen had left. So when they asked if there were Cohanim present, I raised my hand for the first aliyah (call to the Torah).
My teacher Avraham, who was reading the Torah for that Aliyah, looked at me very funny and said "You're a Cohen?"
"Yes." I replied, "Is that ok?" He was looking at me very funny.
"With the name Askanase, I didn't think..." He replied.
"I got the name with the marriage." I said. I took my wife's name when we got married. She wanted to keep her name, and I wanted to have the same name - we both won.
I did the blessings over the Torah reading and returned to my seat thinking that this really was a Cohen day. Now that I had come forward as a Cohen, and there were no other Cohanim there, I was going to have to go forward to do the Birkat Cohanim! I kept my eye on Avraham and later on, I saw him step outside for a breath of fresh air. I followed after and asked him if he could tell me how to do the Birkat Cohanim. He told me that he hadn't realized I was a Cohen because I never did the Birkat Cohanim, to which I replied that I had never done it because I had never done it and didn't know how. He was amazed and gave me brief instructions on what to do.
He asked me why I had never done it. I stumbled for an answer and told him I just didn't know what to do. If we'd had a second more, I would have continued that I'd never done it because it would have made me feel arrogant - that I get to do this special thing because I am better than everyone else. But the truth is not about humility or ignorance, but about fear. This was a new thing to me and I was scared to try it out.
Whenever the other Cohanim had done the blessing, I had tried to feel the energy or power that came out of it, but hadn't felt anything. So I put the ritual down and came up with all sorts of rationalizations why I shouldn't do it. But the truth is that I was scared. I probably hadn't felt anything from it because the fear blocked my perceptions. When I got his basic instruction, I became less scared, but as the time came closer, I began to shake quietly with fear.
When it came time, I went forward to do the blessings, only to be led to the side by two Levites (the tribe who traditionally did the administrative and logistical duties in the Temple). They took me into a side room and ritually washed and dried my hands. I returned to the front of the room and took off my shoes and stepped onto a rug placed there for this purpose. I pulled my Talit over my head and felt the fear throughout my entire being. It was an interesting sensation to, at the same time, be both experiencing and being aware that I was experiencing the fear.
I said the blessing before the blessing, then put down my prayer book, placed my hands in front of me in the priestly sign, and repeated as the blessing was read aloud word for word. I know the blessing very well as it's the same blessing I say to my children every week, but I couldn't remember a word of it. I had trouble understanding the words that were being said to me even though I knew them by heart. That's how scared I was.
When I finished, and lowered my Talit, I head Avraham say a Shehechianu (the blessing thanking God for bringing us to this moment that is said when something significant or new happens). Others looked around, not understanding why he had said it, but as I found my way back to the seat and Avraham gave me a big hug, he told others that it was my first time. Then all of the handshakes came and another friend came over to give me a big hug.
When the service came to a close, many others came over to thank me for letting them share in my first time doing the Birkat Cohanim. It was quite moving.
I continued to talk to Avraham, a few others, and the person who had been leading Musaf. It turned out that he was a cohen also so he gave me a few instructions on how to do the prayer. Avraham looked at me and said that it all made sense now as the Cohanim were the spiritual healers, the shamen of the Jews, and it was all in the discussion of Tzoraat (sometimes translated as leprosy). I looked at him and said that now I knew what I needed to study next.
The whole time we were talking I kept turning around to find out who was behind me, but there was no one there. Then I realized that I was feeling a huge spiritual connection behind me. It felt like there were generations of cohanim standing behind me, and they had all shown up to be with me for this service.
I am a Cohen, and this is my lineage, and today I finally realized what that means and how powerful it is. I hope that I can make them proud.
One difference between praying here in Jerusalem and in the states is Birkat Cohanim, the priestly blessing. It's done during the leader's repetition of the Amidah. The Cohanim (those descended from the priests of the temple) go to the front of the room, say a short blessing, and then bless those assembled. Outside of Isreal, it is done only on High Holidays, if it's done at all, but here in Israel, it's done all the time.
When I first got here, I remember seeing it done and staring amazed at the people up front with the Talitim over their heads blessing the congregation. I am a Cohen, but I'd never done the Birkat Cohanim. I felt an urge to, but always felt held back because I had no idea what it meant or how it was done. So when the Cohanim would go up front, I would stay in my seat. On a Shabbat morning, the Birkat Cohanim is done twice, once during Shacharit (morning prayer), and once during musaf (additional prayer).
At some point during Shacharit today, I got to thinking about how I heal. This past week, I was explaining to someone about my approach to healing (in Hebrew) and mentioned that I study shamanism. "Shaman?" She asked, "That's a kind of Cohen (priest), isn't it?" It got me thinking that she was correct and that perhaps what I do could best be termed "Cohenic Healing" or something like that. I realized that I don't really know what that means and it might be a good idea to go through the Torah and look at all the examples of when the Cohens acted as healers.
About then, it came time for the first Birkat Cohanim. I saw only one person go up front and give the blessing (there are usually three or four people as all the Cohanim present give the blessing). We then took a break for kiddush and I put my thoughts on hold. When we gathered again for the Torah reading, I realized that the only other Cohen had left. So when they asked if there were Cohanim present, I raised my hand for the first aliyah (call to the Torah).
My teacher Avraham, who was reading the Torah for that Aliyah, looked at me very funny and said "You're a Cohen?"
"Yes." I replied, "Is that ok?" He was looking at me very funny.
"With the name Askanase, I didn't think..." He replied.
"I got the name with the marriage." I said. I took my wife's name when we got married. She wanted to keep her name, and I wanted to have the same name - we both won.
I did the blessings over the Torah reading and returned to my seat thinking that this really was a Cohen day. Now that I had come forward as a Cohen, and there were no other Cohanim there, I was going to have to go forward to do the Birkat Cohanim! I kept my eye on Avraham and later on, I saw him step outside for a breath of fresh air. I followed after and asked him if he could tell me how to do the Birkat Cohanim. He told me that he hadn't realized I was a Cohen because I never did the Birkat Cohanim, to which I replied that I had never done it because I had never done it and didn't know how. He was amazed and gave me brief instructions on what to do.
He asked me why I had never done it. I stumbled for an answer and told him I just didn't know what to do. If we'd had a second more, I would have continued that I'd never done it because it would have made me feel arrogant - that I get to do this special thing because I am better than everyone else. But the truth is not about humility or ignorance, but about fear. This was a new thing to me and I was scared to try it out.
Whenever the other Cohanim had done the blessing, I had tried to feel the energy or power that came out of it, but hadn't felt anything. So I put the ritual down and came up with all sorts of rationalizations why I shouldn't do it. But the truth is that I was scared. I probably hadn't felt anything from it because the fear blocked my perceptions. When I got his basic instruction, I became less scared, but as the time came closer, I began to shake quietly with fear.
When it came time, I went forward to do the blessings, only to be led to the side by two Levites (the tribe who traditionally did the administrative and logistical duties in the Temple). They took me into a side room and ritually washed and dried my hands. I returned to the front of the room and took off my shoes and stepped onto a rug placed there for this purpose. I pulled my Talit over my head and felt the fear throughout my entire being. It was an interesting sensation to, at the same time, be both experiencing and being aware that I was experiencing the fear.
I said the blessing before the blessing, then put down my prayer book, placed my hands in front of me in the priestly sign, and repeated as the blessing was read aloud word for word. I know the blessing very well as it's the same blessing I say to my children every week, but I couldn't remember a word of it. I had trouble understanding the words that were being said to me even though I knew them by heart. That's how scared I was.
When I finished, and lowered my Talit, I head Avraham say a Shehechianu (the blessing thanking God for bringing us to this moment that is said when something significant or new happens). Others looked around, not understanding why he had said it, but as I found my way back to the seat and Avraham gave me a big hug, he told others that it was my first time. Then all of the handshakes came and another friend came over to give me a big hug.
When the service came to a close, many others came over to thank me for letting them share in my first time doing the Birkat Cohanim. It was quite moving.
I continued to talk to Avraham, a few others, and the person who had been leading Musaf. It turned out that he was a cohen also so he gave me a few instructions on how to do the prayer. Avraham looked at me and said that it all made sense now as the Cohanim were the spiritual healers, the shamen of the Jews, and it was all in the discussion of Tzoraat (sometimes translated as leprosy). I looked at him and said that now I knew what I needed to study next.
The whole time we were talking I kept turning around to find out who was behind me, but there was no one there. Then I realized that I was feeling a huge spiritual connection behind me. It felt like there were generations of cohanim standing behind me, and they had all shown up to be with me for this service.
I am a Cohen, and this is my lineage, and today I finally realized what that means and how powerful it is. I hope that I can make them proud.
Blessing the Children
This is something I wrote last year that I wanted to share.
December 17, 2007
Blessing the Children
In this week's Torah Portion, VaYehi (Genesis 47:28-50:26), we come across the blessing the Jacob give to Manasseh and Ephraim. They are his grandchildren, the children of Joseph. The blessing they are given is:
"The God in whose ways my fathers Abraham and Isaac walked,
The God who has been my shepherd from birth to this day -
The Angel who has redeemed me from all harm-
Bless the lads.
In them may my name be called,
And the names of my fathers Abraham and Isaac,
And may they be teeming multitudes upon the earth." (Genesis 48:15-16, JPS Translation)
Later on it continues:
"By you shall Israel invoke blessing, saying: God make (put/appoint) you like Ephraim and Manasseh." (Genesis 48:20)
And so it is that on every Friday night, we bless our children with the blessing that for boys begins: May God put/appoint you like Ephraim and Manasseh, and for Girls begins: May God put/appoint you like Sarah, Rebbecca, Rachel, and Leah. It continues: May God bless you and keep/guard you, May God illuminate his face (presence) for you and teach you, May God turn his face to you and put/appoint peace for you.
We were talking about this in class today and what does this actually mean. What was the blessing the two grandchildren received, and what exactly does it mean to bless someone like Ephraim and Manasseh?
People were throwing out some very good ideas of what it means to be blessed like these two, such as that these are the first example of brothers without sibling rivalry in the bible, so we should all be so lucky. Or that they were really fathers to our people, and we should all be blessed with such fertility. Or that they grew up comfortable and didn't really seem to experience many struggles or hardships, so we should all be blessed to have such uneventful lives. (We know very little about their lives as their only role in the bible is to receive these blessings, but given what others had to go through, that's maybe a good thing.)
I sat quiet for the first part of class because I was lost trying to figure out how I would bless my children. I mean, I say this blessing every week, and my wife always does a wonderful job of giving each of the girls their own personal blessing after I do the traditional one. Things like: "a week of health", "A week of good sleep", or "A week of new words." But I've never really thought about how I would want to bless my children. And I was at a loss.
I think often of the blessing I gave a good friend's daughter at her naming. There is a chassidic story that goes something like this: Reb Zusya was dying and was very anxious and worried. He was known far and wide as a tzaddik, a righteous man, and those around him said: don't worry, you have lived as righteous a life as Moses or King David, surely God will accept you into the world to come. When Reb Zusya heard that, he cried even more and answered: When I get to the world to come, I won't be asked if I've been a good Moses, I'll be asked if I've been a good Zusya. I'm worried if I was the best Zusya that I could be. My blessing for my friend's child was to be the best her that she could be.
I always thought that my blessing for my daughters was something similar to that one, it's how I try to parent, so it would make sense. But how then to make sense of this blessing that I say every week. It feels very powerful and I enjoy saying it, but how to make sense of it?
It then came to me to understand it slightly differently: not to be blessed like Ephraim and Manasseh, but to be blessed like they were blessed. Jacob blessed them by connecting them to his lineage, to his God and the God of his fathers. The Torah portion continues with Jacob's blessings to his own sons, which are pretty stark. Some of them even sound like curses, but these two boys were blessed with the connection to God, and with Jacob's spiritual lineage. And maybe that's why we are commanded to bless our children as they were blessed - we give our children our spiritual lineage, our connection to God and the Jewish people. It's a call to me to work on my own spirituality so that I have more to pass on. We are not commanded to bless our children to be any particular way, but we are blessing them to be connected to God like our forefathers and mothers were.
The blessing for daughters is then read that they should be blessed as our foremothers were blessed. Each of whom was blessed with a strong and powerful direct relationship with God. I will continue to try to help my daughters to be the best persons that they can be, and in terms of blessings, I'm not sure what else I could hope for other than a strong connection to God who can help them be the best them that they can be.
December 17, 2007
Blessing the Children
In this week's Torah Portion, VaYehi (Genesis 47:28-50:26), we come across the blessing the Jacob give to Manasseh and Ephraim. They are his grandchildren, the children of Joseph. The blessing they are given is:
"The God in whose ways my fathers Abraham and Isaac walked,
The God who has been my shepherd from birth to this day -
The Angel who has redeemed me from all harm-
Bless the lads.
In them may my name be called,
And the names of my fathers Abraham and Isaac,
And may they be teeming multitudes upon the earth." (Genesis 48:15-16, JPS Translation)
Later on it continues:
"By you shall Israel invoke blessing, saying: God make (put/appoint) you like Ephraim and Manasseh." (Genesis 48:20)
And so it is that on every Friday night, we bless our children with the blessing that for boys begins: May God put/appoint you like Ephraim and Manasseh, and for Girls begins: May God put/appoint you like Sarah, Rebbecca, Rachel, and Leah. It continues: May God bless you and keep/guard you, May God illuminate his face (presence) for you and teach you, May God turn his face to you and put/appoint peace for you.
We were talking about this in class today and what does this actually mean. What was the blessing the two grandchildren received, and what exactly does it mean to bless someone like Ephraim and Manasseh?
People were throwing out some very good ideas of what it means to be blessed like these two, such as that these are the first example of brothers without sibling rivalry in the bible, so we should all be so lucky. Or that they were really fathers to our people, and we should all be blessed with such fertility. Or that they grew up comfortable and didn't really seem to experience many struggles or hardships, so we should all be blessed to have such uneventful lives. (We know very little about their lives as their only role in the bible is to receive these blessings, but given what others had to go through, that's maybe a good thing.)
I sat quiet for the first part of class because I was lost trying to figure out how I would bless my children. I mean, I say this blessing every week, and my wife always does a wonderful job of giving each of the girls their own personal blessing after I do the traditional one. Things like: "a week of health", "A week of good sleep", or "A week of new words." But I've never really thought about how I would want to bless my children. And I was at a loss.
I think often of the blessing I gave a good friend's daughter at her naming. There is a chassidic story that goes something like this: Reb Zusya was dying and was very anxious and worried. He was known far and wide as a tzaddik, a righteous man, and those around him said: don't worry, you have lived as righteous a life as Moses or King David, surely God will accept you into the world to come. When Reb Zusya heard that, he cried even more and answered: When I get to the world to come, I won't be asked if I've been a good Moses, I'll be asked if I've been a good Zusya. I'm worried if I was the best Zusya that I could be. My blessing for my friend's child was to be the best her that she could be.
I always thought that my blessing for my daughters was something similar to that one, it's how I try to parent, so it would make sense. But how then to make sense of this blessing that I say every week. It feels very powerful and I enjoy saying it, but how to make sense of it?
It then came to me to understand it slightly differently: not to be blessed like Ephraim and Manasseh, but to be blessed like they were blessed. Jacob blessed them by connecting them to his lineage, to his God and the God of his fathers. The Torah portion continues with Jacob's blessings to his own sons, which are pretty stark. Some of them even sound like curses, but these two boys were blessed with the connection to God, and with Jacob's spiritual lineage. And maybe that's why we are commanded to bless our children as they were blessed - we give our children our spiritual lineage, our connection to God and the Jewish people. It's a call to me to work on my own spirituality so that I have more to pass on. We are not commanded to bless our children to be any particular way, but we are blessing them to be connected to God like our forefathers and mothers were.
The blessing for daughters is then read that they should be blessed as our foremothers were blessed. Each of whom was blessed with a strong and powerful direct relationship with God. I will continue to try to help my daughters to be the best persons that they can be, and in terms of blessings, I'm not sure what else I could hope for other than a strong connection to God who can help them be the best them that they can be.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Not in Heaven
Deuteronomy 30:11-14
When I read these passages from last week's torah portion, I was struck by the difficulty in reading them. One simple reading is that we are able to do all of God's commandments, that they require no extraordinary effort, no supernatural intervention to fulfill, but each and every one of us is able to fulfill them. The other part of this reading is that we each need to do it and not wait for anyone else to do it for us. We should not wait for someone else to go to Heaven to fulfill the commandments, but we should be able to do it ourselves, that is, that it is doable by all of us.
That is the crux of the difficulty I had with the passage, does it mean that all of us should be able to go up to heaven ourselves? Are we all mystics to ascend and receive our commandments from God ourselves? Or does it mean that we don't need to ascend at all, that everything is right here already? And, in a very Jewish way, the thing we are supposed to receive when we ascend are words that we can hear. Or another possible reading is that we are not commanded to do anything that is out of our reach - each of us does according to their ability, though determining that would be a difficult task.
My sense is that the traditional view is that everything is already given to us, and all the commandments are already written down, so there is no need to go to heaven to get anything else. My desire is that it means Judaism is very flat, that there is no hierarchy, and everyone can fulfill all of the commandments. But that's not really Judaism. In the temple days, the Cohanim did the sacrifices and entered the holy of holies and clearly were elevated above the rest of the people. Since then, we've elevated the rabbi's above the rest, though in an interesting way. The rabbis earned their rank by their learning: the more knowledgeable and learned they were, the higher they were regarded.
In the Hasidic world, the rabbi was also a tzaddik who went to higher levels than others, and was venerated for it. In Morgenstern's latest pamplet he says that people should try to be near a tzaddik during Rosh Hashanna because the tzaddik is at a higher level and will help lift them up during the high holy days. One problem is that a tzaddik is not always created by his learning and intellectual ability. Spiritual ability and academic knowledge are not the same thing. Working on my view that the spiritual activities of Judaism include study, it makes sense that someone can be very learned which leads to great spiritual ability, but it doesn't always follow. Which then poses the question of how to know a tzaddik when one sees one?
Getting back to the text, another possible reading is that we each have gifts which allow us to connect with God. So when the baker bakes, if that is his gift, he connects to God while baking. Likewise, if the doctor's gift is healing, then she is connecting to God when she is working with patients. But the text talks about specific people who are able to connect with God and words emerge that we can hear and base our actions on them. This is a very specialized gift: the ability to sail into the spiritual world and return with words which enable us to do God's will.
At one point, while working on patients, I would see scenes from movies. I assumed for awhile that I was just day-dreaming during a treatment and didn't put much stock in them. After awhile though, I began to realize that the scenes were connected to my patients and what was going on with them. I realized that I was watching a lot of movies at that point in my life, and the stories that I was hearing were how I was interfacing with the spiritual world - they were the clothes the spiritual visions took. As I study more Judaism, I'm finding that my insights are coming more and more in the form of Jewish texts and metaphors.
People who spend all day, every day studying must receive their insight in the form of words. When Morgenstern goes into his trance state at the Tish, he speaks and brings insight from the spiritual world. In this way, text study defines the spiritual experience that Jews have. A problem is that people's gifts are so varied and widespread that only a small percentage of people will have the gift to experience the spiritual world through words. Religious Judaism, in the past, had a lot more flexibility regarding this as it put value on people's working lives, so that the baker who find God in bread can bake. But these days, in Jerusalem, the value in only on education. There are scores of people who spend their lives in Yeshiva, and the value is that anyone who can do that, should. For those who's gift is words, that's great, though for others, it's very limiting.
All of which brings us back to the original text. To me, the more important part tells us that we should not ask someone else to go to heaven for us, we should go there ourselves. If our path to God is through words, then we need to study and pray with words so those shape our spiritual experience. Then we will find the words on our mouths and in our hearts. We need not rely on anyone else to do it for us, as it's all inside of us.
When I read these passages from last week's torah portion, I was struck by the difficulty in reading them. One simple reading is that we are able to do all of God's commandments, that they require no extraordinary effort, no supernatural intervention to fulfill, but each and every one of us is able to fulfill them. The other part of this reading is that we each need to do it and not wait for anyone else to do it for us. We should not wait for someone else to go to Heaven to fulfill the commandments, but we should be able to do it ourselves, that is, that it is doable by all of us.
That is the crux of the difficulty I had with the passage, does it mean that all of us should be able to go up to heaven ourselves? Are we all mystics to ascend and receive our commandments from God ourselves? Or does it mean that we don't need to ascend at all, that everything is right here already? And, in a very Jewish way, the thing we are supposed to receive when we ascend are words that we can hear. Or another possible reading is that we are not commanded to do anything that is out of our reach - each of us does according to their ability, though determining that would be a difficult task.
My sense is that the traditional view is that everything is already given to us, and all the commandments are already written down, so there is no need to go to heaven to get anything else. My desire is that it means Judaism is very flat, that there is no hierarchy, and everyone can fulfill all of the commandments. But that's not really Judaism. In the temple days, the Cohanim did the sacrifices and entered the holy of holies and clearly were elevated above the rest of the people. Since then, we've elevated the rabbi's above the rest, though in an interesting way. The rabbis earned their rank by their learning: the more knowledgeable and learned they were, the higher they were regarded.
In the Hasidic world, the rabbi was also a tzaddik who went to higher levels than others, and was venerated for it. In Morgenstern's latest pamplet he says that people should try to be near a tzaddik during Rosh Hashanna because the tzaddik is at a higher level and will help lift them up during the high holy days. One problem is that a tzaddik is not always created by his learning and intellectual ability. Spiritual ability and academic knowledge are not the same thing. Working on my view that the spiritual activities of Judaism include study, it makes sense that someone can be very learned which leads to great spiritual ability, but it doesn't always follow. Which then poses the question of how to know a tzaddik when one sees one?
Getting back to the text, another possible reading is that we each have gifts which allow us to connect with God. So when the baker bakes, if that is his gift, he connects to God while baking. Likewise, if the doctor's gift is healing, then she is connecting to God when she is working with patients. But the text talks about specific people who are able to connect with God and words emerge that we can hear and base our actions on them. This is a very specialized gift: the ability to sail into the spiritual world and return with words which enable us to do God's will.
At one point, while working on patients, I would see scenes from movies. I assumed for awhile that I was just day-dreaming during a treatment and didn't put much stock in them. After awhile though, I began to realize that the scenes were connected to my patients and what was going on with them. I realized that I was watching a lot of movies at that point in my life, and the stories that I was hearing were how I was interfacing with the spiritual world - they were the clothes the spiritual visions took. As I study more Judaism, I'm finding that my insights are coming more and more in the form of Jewish texts and metaphors.
People who spend all day, every day studying must receive their insight in the form of words. When Morgenstern goes into his trance state at the Tish, he speaks and brings insight from the spiritual world. In this way, text study defines the spiritual experience that Jews have. A problem is that people's gifts are so varied and widespread that only a small percentage of people will have the gift to experience the spiritual world through words. Religious Judaism, in the past, had a lot more flexibility regarding this as it put value on people's working lives, so that the baker who find God in bread can bake. But these days, in Jerusalem, the value in only on education. There are scores of people who spend their lives in Yeshiva, and the value is that anyone who can do that, should. For those who's gift is words, that's great, though for others, it's very limiting.
All of which brings us back to the original text. To me, the more important part tells us that we should not ask someone else to go to heaven for us, we should go there ourselves. If our path to God is through words, then we need to study and pray with words so those shape our spiritual experience. Then we will find the words on our mouths and in our hearts. We need not rely on anyone else to do it for us, as it's all inside of us.
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