Healing is swimming in the Ocean

 Photo courtesy of Morberg

A patient of mine was late earlier this week. She called me to let me know she was on her way, but running about 20 minutes late. As I waited for her, I began the treatment. I sat at the head of the table and placed my hands where they would be if she were lying on the table. I pictured her in front of me and felt our energy connecting. I felt like I could "see" her whole body  I felt a strange pattern in her neck, which I'd never felt in her before. When she came in 10 minutes later, the first thing she said was that she had slept funny the night before and her neck felt stiff.

When I work on people, my main focus is creating the space in which they can heal. I am not very good at "seeing" everything that is going on in their body, but when the connections are made and the space is created, the healing happens. So it was a little surprising to me that I'd seen her neck problem before she came in.
I realized that the distance between us had allowed me to "see" her problem. Like most feelers, I instantly react to the presence of others. I feel their emotions and energies and immediately start to interact with them when I touch or am in the same space with them. I realized that seeing requires distance, which is why it's so hard for me in the treatment room.

It's the difference between standing on the cliffs and watching the ocean and swimming in the water. While on dry land, you can see the expanse of the water and hear the crash of the waves. But when you are swimming in the ocean, you can feel the cold of the deep and the motion of the waves. The healing happens when you are in the water. The connection between the healer and the patient is what bring the shechina and God into the healing, which allows it all to happen.

One man's trash...

I went to the bank yesterday. I had about 10 minutes between appointments, and I needed to make a deposit. My heart sank when I walked in - the place was mobbed. The banks here are known for their long lines, so by the door is a number dispenser. I pulled out number 481. I looked up and heard them call number 444. I sighed and looked for a seat. At least I could eat my lunch before I had to go.

I sat down and noticed some crumpled papers on the table in front of me. I didn't give them much thought but pulled out my food. I heard them announce 446, then 447 when no one moved. I had another bite. I got curious and smoothed out the papers. It was number 446. I smiled to myself. If I had just looked at the papers first, I would have been able to do my deposit. As it was, I had to come back the next day and wait another half hour to get it done.

Sometimes God does you little favors, it just takes an open mind to notice them.

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.

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.

Given my reconnection this past Shabbat, I found this very interesting and timely.

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.