Temple

A vision of a people comes to mind. Descending upon a cloud of glory, the Holy Temple, fully rebuilt, alights on the central hill. The people, with dusty faces and tired eyes, wipe away the tears from their faces. At long last, the dreadful sound has ended. The harmony of the paradox has comes to a climax and is a sweet sound to the listener. The sweet nectar drips from the fruit-sweet roof. 

Where have we been for so long? What is this dry feeling in our throats? What is that desert behind us? It is naught but an illusion. Something we have been living in for too long. As if we awoke from a bad dream, we come to. All the fear and worry that was clouding our mind is away. What remains is nothing but the truth. 

The enemy is no longer hostile.

The pain is no longer felt. 

The anger dissipates.

The people break down and burst into tears of joy. The tear ducts swell to the brim and squeeze out pure delight. We have awoken from a terrible confusion, a wrenching mirage, we have awoken from that to a clear paradise. Life could be this good. Life is this good. 

Suddenly, one elderly woman points her finger, with awe at a man’s chest. He looks down in wonder and the people crowd around. A purple light emits from under his shirt. A crystal-like feeling of inner-tranquility shimmers within him. He pulls back the cover to reveal something beautiful inside. A visage of the Temple, at the core of this shimmering light, floats within him. A voice passes through the wind ‘And they will make for me a Sanctuary, and I will dwell within them.’

Do not be afraid. Do not lose hope. Do not let the dryness of your throat drive you to insanity. The water will come. Your thirst will be quenched. Do not despair. The fire in your heart does yet burn. No rain can dampen the flame within. There is no lack of fuel. You take a deep breath in and the light blazes. 

The night is light and bright with laughter. The mind is no longer plagued with unspoken fears and unknown darkness. The Essence wrestles playfully with itself in a million different ways, and then some more. Within each world exist another trillion. And so on, ad infinitum. Infinite recursion of fractal complexity, which is, at its core, one simple thing. 

We eat, we feast, we drink, we cackle with true joy of life. We have no shame in our delight. We have no pity for the other, for no one lacks. Everyone celebrates their lot and connects with each other. There is no greater height. Until there is, and then it is reached. And further, a higher peak. 

The temple within each and every one of us exists in ultimate glory. The walls may be stripped down, the chamber may be dismantled, the altar disgraced, but the foundation remains. From that foundation, anything can be built. ‘Turn it over, turn it over, for all is in it.’ These words echo through the halls of our empty vessels, waiting to be filled with water. Turn over that stone, adn then the other one. The grand plan is being orchestrated by a Great Manager. Your job is singular: one brick and then another, and when you look up, the project is built. There is no undue stress on you. Only a passion, burning within, that will not let up until the job is done. ‘If not now, when? If not I, then who?’ Take these words to heart and place them deep inside, these true words. ‘Not upon you is the work alone, nor are you exempt from it. If you have learned much Torah, you will be rewarded greatly.’ But we’re not in it for the cheese, are we? No, there is something much greater than mere recognition and prizes. There is quality, there is joy, there is life, fresh as the water that flows from the mountain spring to be drunk freely. Dripping down from your chin, you drunkenly exclaim, ‘Hodu Lashem Ki Tov, Ki Le’olam Chasdo!’

Pinchas

Pinchas. What an enigmatic character. Enigmatic, in the sense that he defied definition. Enigmatic, meaning that there is more to know about him than what the Torah explicitly states. Much has been passed down, through tradition, from generation to generation regarding Pinchas. And yet still, so little is known about him. So little is known about his true character, the man that lived behind the spear. The man that existed before slaying Zimri. The man that lived according to his principles. 

The first thing to note about Pinchas is his story, that short excerpt that appears briefly in the Torah, making his name known and remembered everafter. He took the spear in his hand, entered the tent of Zimri ben Salu, and slew him in the midst of his relation with Cuzbi bas Tzur. “And he took a spear in his hand” — these are the six words [of Shema Yisrael] (Zohar). Standing in the face of a young nation, a multitude born of chaos, half of whom feared G-d, while the other half seemed to have completely forgotten His Law, Pinchas was bound in his mind with the unity of G-d and feared nothing besides for Him. He took the spear in his hand and drove it through Zimri’s manhood, reaching straight to Cuzbi’s womb. Gruesome, for sure. Which makes one wonder: was Pinchas a bloodthirsty killer? Did he enjoy the opportunity to murder two individuals in the name of G-d and get away with it? 

Chas v’Sholom to say so. “And the L-rd spoke to Moshe, saying: Pinchas will be anointed as a priest before me, for he has saved my People by avenging my vengeance, and I will give him my covenant of peace” (paraphrased). The parsha that is named Pinchas, that is, the portion of Torah that is symbolized by Pinchas’ spiritual soul-root — for we know that all the names of the parshiyos in Torah came about meticulously by the Creator Himself (Shaloh) — does not talk about his act of vengeance, but rather about his character. The abovementioned incident was recorded in last week’s portion — Balak — a treacherous and twisted man. It was an unfortunate reality that Pinchas had to do what he did, but what he did was the right thing — although it might seem lotherwise. But this week’s parsha talks about what G-d saw. “For man sees to the eye; and G-d sees the inner heart” (Samuel I, somewhere). What G-d saw was “his covenant of peace”. Pinchas did what he had to do to keep and maintain the peace, for the sake of the people, and for the sake of the continuity of creation.We are living in turbulent times, there is no doubt about that. I lean away from political rhetoric and reject violence. The lesson from Pinchas does not mean that we have the right to maim, injure, or kill, G-d forbid. We must trust in G-d that all will be well. We have been promised, that if we do what is right in G-d’s eyes, then we will only receive good from him. What’s important for us to take away here, is that sometimes we have to step up to the plate when no one else will. When all the people are confounded and confused, lost and insecure, we must take the stand and act on what is right. Even Moshe Rabbeinu himself was at a loss to the situation at hand. Pinchas had a flash of inspiration and his leader told him  to run with it. We all have our Pinchas moments, moments when we know what is right to do, yet we are afraid to act out of fear of an uncertain backlash. Yet we can all take a spear in our hands — Shema Yisrael, Hashem Elokeinu, Hashem Echad. All outside conclusions will then dissipate, and only the truth will remain.

Humility, Pt. 2

When the Mitteler Rebbe was young, he would spend time in the shul where the chassidim would daven. Being that he was well-versed in chassidic banter, when he saw a middle-aged man davening in haste and without proper concentration, he berated him for not davening with proper kavana. It seems that this was meant to be a constructive remark, however, it affected the worshipper deeply. 

“What do you know of the difficulties of my divine service?” the chassid asked the young prodigy. “Do you know what I have to do everyday to make a living? First, I must arise well before dawn to gather all the bundles of wheat from my stockpile, and load them up on my wagon. Then, I must journey several miles on rough country road to reach my first customer. All of my customers are local farmers, and you know how much they love to drink in this country. No farmer will speak to a word of business unless we have both downed a cup of vodka. Only after that can we strike a deal. I have to do this five or six times, and travel the rocky roads between each one. Only many hours later, after I have sold all my stock, am I able to turn to the beis midrash and devote some time to tefila. And that is besides for the fact that I do not know how to read and translate ivra well. I never had the opportunity to study the Torah in-depth because my father was poor and could not afford to pay the melamed to teach me.”
The imploring chassid did not stop there. “And you young rebbe, for you, it is all so easy. You are surrounded by holiness, you were taught the ways of chassidus from when you were first born. You do not need to work hard in order to make a living, for you subsist off the funds of the kollel.

“This is the reason why my prayers are not on the highest level,” the chassid concluded. The young Dov Ber was stunned into silence, and walked away contemplating what he had just heard.

Some time passed. The abovementioned chassid came into the Alter Rebbe for chassidus at his allotted time, for everyone had an allotted time to have yechidus with the Rebbe. When the chassid entered, the Alter Rebbe stood up and greeted this chassid very warmly. “Reb Yid, I must thank you personally. You have done what I could not do. You have made my Berele into a chassid.”

This story helps illustrate the fundamental aspect for us of our understanding of our place in life. It is common for one to feel ‘above’ or ‘superior’ based on their personal accomplishments. This feeling is the ego, inflated. It is the binding of identity with the outside, a not-ism, something that is not truly part of the person’s self. It is external to one’s core. Yes, it does celebrate a certain revelation of potential into action, but it does not warrant the ability to look down upon others who did not do the same. And perhaps more importantly, it does not give us the right to look down at ourselves if we feel that we do not live up to the ideal that we have set for ourselves. This can cause one to fall down a slippery slope, something which will be explained elsewhere.

By incorporating this understanding into our perception, we can learn an invaluable lesson. Moshe Rabbeinu himself had integrated this awareness so deeply that it became his nature. The gemara explains the Moshe was humble before even the strange idol-worshipper. Moshe was able to feel the same humility before every person. He attributed his tremendous spiritual powess to the fact that he had received an inheritance in his DNA from his ancestors. Thanks to their spiritual service, Avraham, Itzchak, and Yaakov were able to pass down through nature and education, a supreme awareness of Hashem to their children. Moshe understood this and realized that he had a step up on everyone else. That is why his accomplishments did not make him haughty or superior in his own eyes. And that is how we too, can be sure to remain humble and lowly — in a healthy manner! — in our own eyes as well.

Humility, Pt. 1

A story is told of the Arizal, where his students asked him how he merited to Ruach HaKodesh and the ability to see Eliyahu HaNavi. The holy Mystic responded, “by way of joy in performing my mitzvos”. According to his response, we can deduce that by way of experiencing true joy in the performance of mitzvos, we too can achieve a high level of holiness. However, this does not seem like a complete answer. Because other tzaddikim have also experienced simcha shel mitzva, yet they did not reach such high levels as the Arizal. It seems like there was something more that the Arizal did not say. 

The Mitteler Rebbe explains that the Arizal did not give the full answer to his students. The true answer is also the reason why he did not express it. How is that? What the Arizal HaKadosh did not mention is, is that the Arizal himself possessed within a spark of Moshe Rabbeinu. Moshe Rabbeinu was known as the ultimate anav — “And the man Moshe was extremely humble, more than any man on the face of the earth”. His humility was so great, that even before a gentile who served idolatry, Moshe considered himself lowly. That spark existed within the Arizal, and that spark is what endowed the Arizal with Ruach HaKodesh.

But what is this humility about which we speak? What did Moshe Rabbeinu and the Arizal possess that made them so great? And perhaps most importantly, how does the characteristic of ‘humility’, that is, being low before all others, lead to humility? 

To answer these questions, we must take a deeper look at the nature of humility. True humility. True humility does not mean that one looks upon themselves and sees only fault. It does not mean that one picks out all the ba in one’s self and brings it to the forefront for viewing pleasure and wallow in miserable self-loathing. No, that is not humility. That is something else. That is lowliness. That is negativity. Whatever the exact term is, it’s not humility. Humility is something else. Humility is something holy. Through true humility, one can reach the greatest heights. 

True humility — anava — is a lack of self-consciousness. Instead of identifying with achievements, traits, possessions, or anything else that is outside the self, the anav identifies with truth. In one’s own soul, no one is lowly. No being or entity is bad; fault does not exist. Or if it does, it exists in such a fundamental way as to not matter. No reference here is being made to one’s mistakes or the reasons why one might be considered bad. Rather, the focus lies on the true aspects of one’s life. The pure goodness, the will to do good, the desire for connection. So now, if an anav has people’s attention, the anav does not consider ‘I am cool. I get people’s attention. People love me. I am worthy. I am amazing!’. The anav is aware only of the purpose why people are attentive. If it be words of wisdom, the anav respects the wisdom flowing from his mouth. Be it music, the anav appreciated the groove of the moment. Is it something else? The anav appreciates those qualities, but does not identify their self-worth with that. Their self-worth comes from something far deeper. It comes exactly where it should be coming from: the worth of the self comes from the self itself. Nothing else. 

This concept can be further expounded in many different areas to provide a more comprehensive understanding. But for now, just this nugget suffices; it explains the core of the concept. From here, we can extrapolate and deduce, learn and derive. The ikkar is to take it to heart and employ it in our action.

Good Shabbos.