Dear mishpacha, morim and chevre - family, teachers and friends,
Many warm blessings from the deep roots of Eretz Yisrael. What an incredible few months it has been. So we are now rounding the seemingly darkest corner of the year and yet dafka (exactly) now so many of us in our different ways are celebrating the presence/emergence of light and hope into the world.
With humble admission, I have been quite terrible about keeping in touch since I've been in Israel. I wanted to take this opportunity to say hello to you all, and let you know where I'm holding my Chanukah candles. Also at the bottom there will be, b'ezrat HaS' (with the help of G-d) some divrei torah/ divrei chai, some thoughts I'm having about life in our present situation.
I've been in Israel for nearly four months now. It's hard to believe. I'm not sure if I feel like it's been longer or shorter than that, but for sure it's hard to believe that I've been so blessed to be here on this incredible land, in this incredible place for even a fraction of that time. Thrice daily, the daily liturgy reminds me, to greater or lesser awareness depending on the moment, of how much my ancestors longed to return to this place and yet were unable. And here I am, a living fulfillment of their dreams.
Since coming to Israel at the beginning of the Jewish month of Elul (the end of August), I've been living, studying, praying and learning in a beautiful community at the Bat Ayin Yeshiva. This place is quite special -- a fabulously and self-consciously quirky blend of post-modern awareness, warm-hearted traditionalism and an undying love for Eretz Yisrael. The curriculum, solidly rooted, as any traditional yeshiva, in Gemara and Torah study, also incorporates deep Hassidus and contemplative investigation of life, as G-d, unfolding. It has perhaps taken these four months for my consciousness to really settle to the point to reflect on what it is that's going on here, at Bat Ayin, in Eretz Yisrael and in the World as a living, dynamically-organic, complexity. I have been blissfully and ecstatically overwhelmed, by the rush of the land, the people, and the living torah. I can remember one day flying into Yerushalayim. I was learning with some friends in a sukkah here in Bat Ayin. I mentioned the name of a Kabbalist in the Old City, challenging him to bring his teachings farther into malchus, the manifest world. At that moment, he called on my friend's phone, asking as us to come for teaching at his home. He said he was worried about losing his home in the old city and that it was important that we come. When we arrived in Yerushalayim, just as we were approaching the ascent to Zion gate, we saw many of the bocherim (men form the yeshiva) coming towards us. We told them where we were going and many of them followed. The story progresses to the porch of the Rav (the one who called) overlooking Har HaBayit (the Temple Mount) for a decent of "I don't know what," and then to a holy shopkeeper selling spices in the Arab shook, weaving our way through positive and negative forces, and then eventually and unplanned to Me'ah Sharim (the ultra-orthodox neighborhood which resembles the Warsaw ghetto recreated) to the home of another Rav, a Bretslov kabbalist, who taught about the play (sometimes battle) of light and dark in the world as music from the houses around floated through his sukkah. On his table was a gigantic vodka bottle with a pump top (like the type on liquid hand soap, but bigger). After he spoke, words -- most of which could not fit in my ears, he pulls out from behind his chair an electric guitar, unplugged of course. I can't remember what he played. And that was all one afternoon and early evening. So it's been hard to catch up with my experience at times. The week flies by and then suddenly we're lifting into Shabbat, hopefully with a call home to the folks, and then we're swooning with the Shekhinah (the indwelling presence of G-d) and none comes in and none goes out. And then the week begins again.
The week is chock full. Yet there's time for hisbodidut in the mountain forest and, G-d willing, mishpacha groups will be built into the schedule starting in the next week or two. With the help of Barya Shachter (Reb Zalman's son) and few other guys here, we're going to import this element pretty much as I learned it from Elat Chayyim (Jewish retreat center in the Catskills (shout-out to the smarmies!)) , with a few new bits added. It's an opportunity to increase our sense of community, yachdus and achdus (unity and brotherhood). For an hour a week guys will meet in groups of 6 or 7 (we're about 40 strong altogether) and have an opportunity to express whatever is coming forth from their hearts and minds. Please wish us success in this new project as it has the potential to bring many worlds together.
So many wonderful things are happening here. And at the same time, things are very difficult and heart wrenching. I am confronted daily with the sobering reality of guns and checkpoints and students in the yeshiva going off to serve in the army and terrorist attacks, those fulfilled and, thank G-d, those thwarted. We are a mess. Not only as Jews and Palestinians, but within the Jewish people we are a fragmented, internally angry bunch. The left is angry at the right, the right is disgusted with the left, the secular Jews are on the verge of hatred of their religious brothers and sister and the religious Jews are on the verge of despair as regards their secular counterparts. We had many Israelis here for our last Shabbat. It was the first Shabbas in Chanukah (Baruch HaS' we have two this year!). When we lit the Chanukiah and made havdallah and the winds of chol (the secular week) began blowing in to the Beit Midrash (learning hall), we (the students from outside Israel) were uncomfortably overwhelmed, feeling awkwardly estranged as these Israelis (some of whom would leave this room to return to their posts in the army) began screaming, literally screaming, a niggun, holding hands and jumping wildly, desperate and fighting for life of Am Yisrael. I think we are at a loss. No one, I really believe that no one, knows what to do. There is only the pain and fight and unrest that is the opposite of shalem and shalom -- the ikar (the essential element) of Shabbat. I can only understand this, this situation of the Jewish people, this situation in the land of Israel, this deep situation in the world, from a spiritual perspective. I cannot comprehend hatred and violence unless I can see people's hearts, minds and souls; I cannot understand someone's heart mind and soul without understanding his people and his heritage. I cannot possibly conceptualize this frenzied swarm of individual neshamot (souls) within groups which are within groups which are within yet other overlapping and intersecting groups which have, for all intents and purposes, their own collectively lived spiritual force and personality, I cannot possibly hold all of this sanely without G-d and without the overarching super (non-)structure of His supernal reality as the basis for my consciousness. I have to say, at this point, how thankful I am for my Zen training. The ability to access the reality which is not bound by the realm of opposites, of "this" and "that," is invaluable to me in perceiving clearly the unfolding of our present situation.
Of course the trickiest thing of all is that it will only be possible to heal this situation b'simcha, in an overwhelming consciousness of joy. I don't think it's possible to bring people to an awareness of G-d without having oneself an awareness of G-d, and I certainly don't think it's possible to have awareness of G-d without being totally b'simcha. When one feels G-d in the world and in one's life, how could he not be happy? [I'm writing in a rickety little trailer known as the Bat Ayin Yeshiva office with my friend, whose name happens to be Simchah. I just read him the last sentence and in this little caravan (trailer) we couldn't help but start singing a niggun and dancing!] So we have to keep believing that peace can come. And that peace is real if we only would know it. Gevalt. Be happy!
Last week the entire yeshiva went for training at the army base near by in order to be qualified to serve on shmira (guard duty) for the Bat Ayin yeshuv (settlement). This training included firing Uzis and M-16 rifles. I refrained from participating. Even though this decision may be understood as an evasion of duty to protect the yeshuv, I don't think we can, as a society, as a civilization, continually be picking up guns and hoping for peace. However, even here, in this "roots," earthy yeshiva, I am in the minority with this opinion. I was one of only two bocherim who chose not to participate in the training.
So, mai nafka minah? (To what does it boil down?) In this week's parasha (section of the Torah) we find both the exquisiteness and heart-wrenching torture that characterize a life lived in relationship with G-d. We find this exquisite torture most clearly by Yosef ha-Tzadddik. Yosef was sold into slavery by his brothers and through G-d's providence became viceroy in Egypt. Time passes and a famine forces Yosef's brothers to Egypt in the attempt to procure food for their hungry families. Yosef, after years of separation, is again reunited with his brothers. Okay, not so fast. When the brothers come before Yosef asking to buy food, Yosef recognizes his kin, but they, however, do not recognize him. In this moment Yosef, "remembered the dreams which he had dreamed about them" (Bereshit, 42:9). What were these dreams? In last week's parasha Yosef dreamt two dreams. Regarding the first Yosef tells his brothers, "behold, we were binding sheaves in the field and, lo, my sheaf arose and stood upright and your sheaves stood round about and bowed down to my sheaf" (Bereshit, 37:7). Regarding the second dream Yosef says, "behold, I have again dreamed a dream; and behold the sun and the moon and the eleven stars bowed down to me" (Bereshit 37:9). Perhaps we can relate to the jealousy and resentment that Yosef's brothers felt towards him, but the dreams Yosef dreamt were visions from G-d. What I mean, that they were visions from HaShem, we will have to sort out below.
When Yosef sees his brothers again, they bowing down to him as viceroy of Egypt, he sees that there are only ten. Yet his second dream specified eleven stars and the sun and the moon, representing his eleven brothers and father and mother. (Since Yosef's birth mother, Rachel, had passed away by this time, Rashi (a classic and foundational Biblical commentator) relates that the moon refers to his surrogate mother Bilhah.) In this first encounter, Yosef's brother Binyamin and his father and mother are not present; the vision has not been fulfilled. Therefore Yosef spoke harshly to them saying, "you are spies; to see the nakedness of the land do you come" (Bereshit 42:9). He retains his brother Shim'on, compelling his brethren to go home and return with Binyamin, all this that the dream might be fulfilled. Looking closely, we see that we have a dream that while classically understood to be on the level of prophecy, requires the action of man to bring it into reality. Only by Yosef's conscious encounter with reality and his conscious effort to bring this reality into alignment with his dream does it seem possible that this prophetic dream could manifest itself. This story has profound implications for understanding a human's relationship with the divine. What do we understand from this story?
Sadly, many people, upon seeing this story play out in their own lives, conclude that G-d does not exist or at least does not play a substantial role in my life. From a rational-skeptical perspective, this conclusion is a perfectly reasonable one. If Yosef must participate in the actualization of his dream, is it not more reasonable to assume that Yosef had his own (perhaps egotistical) dream uninspired by G-d and that he worked to make this dream reality (and its fulfillment, rather than disappointment, was the result of hard work and a bit of luck), than to admit to a divine force interpenetrating all reality and manifesting its will? Perhaps so. And yet Yosef, the Righteous one, reveals something of the divine in his own being. When Yosef finally reveals his identity to his brothers he tells them, "be not grieved or angry with yourselves, that you sold me here, for G-d did send me before you to preserve life...it was not you who sent me here, but G-d" (Bereshit, 45:5-8). What do the rational skeptics say now? Perhaps they would claim that Yosef ha-Tzaddik is using the concept of G-d (G-d forbid!) as a therapeutic tool, as a false crutch in order to cope with the weakness and the injury caused to him by his brothers, implying that G-d, in its own right, does not exist. And yet this explanation can only work if we could locate the crutch upon which Yosef is leaning, if we could see the falsehood and pretense in his strength which would reveal the smallness and insignificance of his injured self. Yet in the parasha, we see exactly the opposite: Yosef can barely conceal his magnanimity, his love, compassion, and grace for its sincerity even though he knows it is better to do so. As it is written: "And Yosef made haste, for his affection was kindled towards his brother, and he sought where to weep, and he entered into his chamber and wept there. And he washed his face and went out and restrained himself" (Bereshit 43:30-31). And now the last stronghold of the skeptic appears. "Fine!" he says, "Yosef was a tzaddik emet (a truly righteous person), but I and my neighbor and my neighbor's neighbor, are we such tzaddikim? Certainly there are exceptionally righteous people in the world, but that doesn't prove the existence of G-d!" If the foundation of the skepticism is reason, I wonder, is it reasonable to think that people were blessed with the capacity for compassion without a source for that blessing?
So we return now to our difficult case. The manifestation of Yosef's dream is leaning on the impact of Yosef's action, the realization of divine will in the world is dependent on the action of man. If we only knew what a blessing this is and how close HaShem is inviting us to come into His Presence. We are being asked to become necessary partners. A real partnership is only real when the contribution of both partners is required. If everything was totally dependent on G-d what place would there be for man in relating to Him? And yet everything IS totally dependent on G-d, because we see that our very life and being and existence (and action in the world!) is motivated and dependent on G-d. Yosef ha-Tzaddik knows this. Again and again he tells people, "it's not me, it's G-d." The rest is a secret of the soul.
I want to bless everyone, and I hope you'll bless me back, that your lights shine forth brightly in this season of lights and that everyone may come to know the source of all light that we should be blessed with all the goodness of the earth from the flow that flows from the heavens above. Happy Holidays.
Love,
Baruch