Life is Contemplation Spread Thin

This week's Torah portion, Vayeishiv, includes the passage, "And Yaakov settled in the land where his father dwelled" (Bereishis/Genesis 37:1). The Noam Elimelech zt"l, the holy Reb Elimelech of Lizhensk, the author of one of the greatest Chasidic works, connects this passage to the verse in Tehillim (Psalms), "May there be peace in Your chambers, serenity in your palaces." In showing the connection between these two verses, the Noam Elimelech addresses the innate task of the human being, an why we are given the specific role that we are given in creation.

To explain this, the Rebbe Reb Meilech brings the teaching of the Gemara that since the beginning of creation, there was not one who called G-d "Adon", or Master. The first being to do so was Avraham Avinu, Abraham our father, who began to address G-d as Adon, teaching us that we must strive to unify the Divine Name of Hashem, the four letter sacred name of G-d, which is read the same way as Adon'ai (My Master). The Zohar (central work of kaballah) further teaches that whenever we read the sacred Name of G-d as Adon'ai, we should meditate on unifying both names of G-d that are pronounced in that way. When this is done, the task is completed as is stated in Shacharis (the morning service), "El Adon al kol hama'asim," that Hashem is the Master over all creation. The name El implies mercy, as it says in Tehillim (Psalms), "The mercy of El exists all day long." Therefore, when we unify the Divine Name of G-d, we succeed in drawing down mercy into the world, which is "El" (the awakening of kindness in the world), and G-d becomes "Adon al kol hama'asim", master over all creations.

This unification of G-d's name, and the resulting Mastership of G-d, is the meaning of the verse in Chavakuk (Habakkuk 2:20), "Hashem is in His holy place; all the earth is quiet in His presence." The name Adon'ai, as it is the means of pronunciation for the sacred Name of G-d (which is not spelled Adon'ai), is called the "heichal" (entry hall) to the Divine Name. So, when the unification is brought into the "palace" (Sacred Name) by means of the "entry hall" (contemplating the word Adon'ai), "all the earth is quiet," as kindness and tranquility are released into creation. This is the deeper teaching of the verse in Bereishis (Genesis 2:5), "There was no man to work the ground." The word for ground, "adamah", is also used in the phrase in the Torah, "adamah Elyon," meaning, "I shall liken myself to the Exalted One." Therefore, man should always strive to compare the creation (adamah) to the Creator (Elyon), drawing the lower world to unity with the upper world. This is the reason for the creation of Adam, the first creature to begin the process of unifying the worlds. This beginning process is alluded to in the kaballistic introduction to the creation of Adam, stating that "a mist ("ad" in Hebrew, the first two letters of Adon'ai) rose from the ground."

From Adam until Avraham Avinu, no person called G-d "Adon", Master. Because of Avraham's great love and intellectual service, he was able to truly call G-d Master. According to the Noam Elimelech, this is done primarily through intellect, and the contemplation on the greatness of creation and the loftiness of G-d. After this meditation, awe and fear will naturally develop due to the intensity of the true expansion of Hashem's presence in creation. The Noam Elimelech says that this is the ideal manner in which we should serve G-d, as mitzvos (commandments) are also directed at this process. If this is the case, then why do we need to do the mitzvos at all? Shouldn't we achieve our avodah (holy work) through the better process of meditation, and not through the physical tasks associated with mitzvos?


To answer this question, the Noam Elimelech notes that we are, through the process of creation, (either seemingly or literally) compartmentalized into bodies, with each fleck of our souls having greater intensity around the physical bodies that we inhabit. If we were to simply meditate on G-d and the greatness of creation at all times, without interruption, our physical existence would be nullified due to the overwhelming majesty of G-d. This would not allow us to continue to live and awaken the sparks of Divinity scattered throughout creation for us to find. Therefore, we were given mitzvos, commandments to connect us to our physical body and to less-obviously lofty parts of creation. However, so that we would not be connected to physicality simply to be connected, each mitzvah was connected intrinsically to a piece of creation where we are to awaken sparks of the Divine (ex. special restrictions of shechita, or kosher slaughter for animals), which give us the connection to physicality and G-d at the same time, a state of being called "deveikus", or "cleaving."

This is the meaning of the verse first addressed in the opening, "And Yaakov settled in the land where his father dwelled." The root of the Hebrew word for "dwelled" (megurei) is also found in the verse in Bamidbar (Numbers 22:3), "Vayigar Mo'av...And Moav was afraid." Therefore, the verse can be read, "And Yaakov feared G-d at His true level of majesty." This is spoken about Yaakov in reference to the land of Canaan, which represents the physical world and body, and shows that Yaakov was able to remain in the correct level of fear because he was able to remain in his physical body to do his task of deveikus.


Therefore, the verse in Tehillim says, "May there be peace in your chambers, serenity in your palaces." The word for peace, "shalom", is the same as the word "shaleim", which means "complete" or "unified". Similarly, the word for "your chambers" (chayil) is the same as the word for the Divine legions in the upper world. Also, the word for "palaces" in the second half of the verse refers to the physical body, with which one uses to serve G-d through the physical commandments. This presents the deeper meaning of the verse, reading, "May the upper worlds (which is essentially the Divine Name) be unified, bringing about serenity in the physical world." May we all achieve the ability to meditate on creation and the mitzvos done through physical creation, so that "with our own bodies we see G-d," and remain balanced so that our deveikus may last from now until eternity, umein v'umein.

And Moving Forward...

It seems that the comments in my previous blog were made prematurely. With what has gone on over this past week, now I can really say, "Its always something".

First of all, the toilet in our apartment had been leaking a little, and finally workmen were sent to deal with it. Instead of fixing the small crack, the workmen gave us a new toilet. Apparently, toilets in Israel do not come with seats, as we do not have one. Not only this, but when they gave us the new toilet, they didn't hook up the back correctly, and each time you flushed, a HUGE geyser shot out of the back toward the wall. Well, they came back to fix this today, and in the course of giving us a new tank, flooded the old tank out onto the floor, and under my roommate's bed.

Right now, I am sitting watch in my apartment because of the second thing that happened. At 2:15 am on the morning of my birthday, my apartment was woken up by someone banging and kicking our door, which eventually warped and came off of the hinges. Now, since the door doesn't lock when you want it to, and only locks when you close it (with no way to unlock it), I am sitting here to make sure that no one wanders in here and steals things. Both this event, and the previous toilet escapade, took place under a blanket of darkness, as our breaker box seems to enjoy tripping.


Today, seemingly unknown by many, another terrorist on a bulldozer attempted to crush a police car and a bus on a street which forms the edge of the park across from me. Because the park is large, it didn't happen near enough to impact things by me, but it happened none the less.

At times like this, when it seems like you can't make a turn without something going wrong, taking time to pull yourself out of everything and just relax and reflect is nice. This is something amazing about Judaism. Three times a day, once a week, and any time we strike a tune in our heads, we can escape the "physicality", remind ourselves that there's more to the story than we all see, and bring ourselves back to our center.

Each day, we are commanded to pray three times at specific times, and the sages gave us specific formats and words to use for these prayers. The times (early morning, afternoon, and night) operate to reinforce our strength and remind us of the greatness of Hakadosh Baruch Hu (the morning prayer serving to energize us and instruct us before we start our day, the afternoon prayer giving us a stopping point to reflect smack in the middle of the day, and the prayer at night allowing us to cleanse ourselves of the regular grabage we collect through living in Olam HaSheker).

The notion of tefillah (often translated as "prayer") in Judaism is completely devoted to "centering" the person who participates in the prayer. The verb form of the word generally used for prayer is reflexive, meaning that it has to do with the pray-er, not so much the pray-ee. The word itself does not connote the non-Jewish ideas of asking for things, pleading on behalf of this or that, and generally expressing personal desires. There is room for that in Judaism, but it is not the main purpose of the fixed "prayer". The word, instead, has to do with turning into ourselves, seeing what's going on, seeing where we are lacking, and reminding ourselves what the world is truly all about. We can see this time and again in the siddur (prayer book), which is made up of ordered verses from the Torah and teachings from the Mishna, as well as the Amidah, which is a central personal prayer composed by sages.

Each day, or more correctly, each time we pray, when we reach read these verses, we can see where we are holding in our own spirituality, and where we need work. "What did that just say? Do I really agree with that? What does it really mean? If I don't agree, what's lacking in me today that this statement doesn't click? If I do agree, what strides have I made to get to this point?" Reflecting before, during, and after praying, which was done extensively by the tzadikim in previous generations, really can increase our sense of self, and add to the meditation of tefillah so that we can better reach our goal.

Aside from tefillah, Shabbos offers a huge, 25-hour opportunity to step back from the stress and shallowness of everyday life and devote everything to reflection. When Shabbos begins, we immediately abandon the average in favor of the holy. Shabbos allows us to get back in touch with the Source and re-energize our souls. Forbidden from participating in countless weekday activities, we are free to truly get in touch with ourselves. With the wealth of Jewish songs, meditations, Tehillim (Psalms), and intensity in performing mitzvos, it is easy to carry this over into any moment where one needs to be centered. Simply humming a tune can move us from Brooklyn 2008 to Galicia 1850, and remind us that everything we do is connected forward and backward, showing us our place in whole of creation.


Many of us may not be at this point right now, but Judaism is all about growth. If we simply open a tiny part of ourselves to growth, it will spread across every area of our lives. Moving forward is what all of this is about; never believing the world when it screams how amazing you are, as the Gemara says. In an interesting quote which has shychus to a previous post, I read a great explanation as to what a Chusid is, and it is closely related to "moving forward". In a book by Rabbi Avraham Twersky, he records a small discussion between two Chasidim:

One Chusid turns to the other, "Who is a Chusid?"
"A Chusid," the other replied, "is someone who wants to be a Chusid."
"But who wouldn't want to be a Chusid?" asked the first.
The second Chusid replied, "Someone who already thinks he is a Chusid."