People who are accustomed to follow the kabbalistic Seder of fruits and wine on Tu B’Shvat organize their (thirty) fruits according to certain criteria. There are three intersecting (and somewhat conflicting) scales of measure.
(The Intrinsic) Scale of Klipa
This scale measures an innate feature of the fruit itself—the amount, placement, and intensity of its klipah (the inedible skins and pits attached to the fruit). In mystical texts, klipa is the skin or shell that surrounds each sliver of soul (be it human, animal, plant or mineral) and marks it out from every other, producing the illusion of multiplicity when really there is only One. We’ll call this the Scale of Klipa. At its lowest end are fruits with inedible skins or shells that must be removed to access the fruit. The next rung up are those with inedible pits or seeds hidden within. And finally at the top of the scale are fruits that are edible through and through. This hierarchy is a rich subject for observation, contemplation and meditation but it does not have halachic import at the Seder.

(The Objective) Scale of Yichus [i.e., Pedigree]
Next is a Scale of Yichus (you might say), which begins with the seven special fruits indigenous to Israel and continues with the fruits that are mentioned explicitly in the Bible and then, finally those named in the Mishna and Talmud. Status on the Scale of Yichus comes from association with holy writ. And since these texts have varying authority, so do the fruits mentioned therein.
When HaShem promised the land of Israel to the Jewish people, He mentioned seven local edibles by name to prove that this was His most prized real estate.
G d is bringing you to a good land—a land with flowing streams, and underground springs gushing out in valley and mountain. It is a land of wheat, barley, grapes, figs and pomegranates—a land of oil-olives and honey-[dates]. It is land where you will not eat rationed bread, and you will not lack anything…(Deut. 7:6-8).

The rabbis teach that when it comes to raw produce these seven are the most distinguished of all foods. Two are grains and five are fruits. Yet even among them a hierarchy exists. The word land occurs twice in this verse, and the closer a fruit appears to the word, land, the higher its status, and there are real privileges associated with its rank. According to Jewish law a pecking order exists among foodstuffs and we human beings must give honor where it is due.

Looking only at the five fruits, grapes are already 3rd in line from the first mention of land, whereas olives appear immediately after the Holyland’s second mention. Consequently the hierarchy of status with regard to fruits is: 1) olives, 2) dates, 3) grapes, 4) figs, 5) pomegranates.

Everyone knows that Jewish law forbids a person from eating before thanking G-d for the specific food that he or she is about to consume. When a person, with fruit in hand, before partaking, thanks G-d for the produce from fruit-bearing trees, all the other fruits at the table are covered by that blessing though only one was the actual focus of the brocha.

Every fruit hopes to be the one that inspires a blessing and gets tasted first. The spark that is its soul, has slowly made its way up through the ranks, enlivening minerals, now plants, soon animals, then humans and eventually (joyfully) tsadikim. It has, and will, spend painful years, centuries and perhaps even millennia in each kingdom. Yet now it has the chance to ascend many rungs in a single leap, boosted by the merit of instigating a blessing and being the one that gets eaten first. This is a privilege the Code of Jewish Law assigns to fruits based on their rank in the Scale of Yichus.[1]

So now, at a Tu b’Shvat seder, surrounded by thirty delectable fruits: How do you decide which to make the focus of your brocha, for only one out of all those thirty gets the privilege? One opinion is that the five fruits mentioned in the verse above are the elite of the fruit kingdom and must be accorded the honor that is their due. Hashem, Himself has set them apart which makes their superior status uncontestable.

Consequently, when faced with an array of fruits, the honor of being the focus of blessing goes to these five distinguished species, and if there are several present, it goes to the one of highest rank. So if olives are present, the blessing is always said on them.[1]

(The Subjective) Scale of Desirability
But the Code of Jewish Law brings a second opinion which gives primacy to the person’s genuine preference.2 The eater should say the blessing over the fruit that he likes best—the one that she honestly wants to eat first. In the Scale of Desirability the fruit’s rank is in the eyes of its beholder. It rises and falls according to the palette of the one who is about to eat it.
From this perspective, eating is an intimate encounter between a person and his food. It doesn’t make sense to force a person to eat olives first, when really he prefers an apple. This opinion weighs the person’s (subjective) wishes over the fruit’s (objective) yichus. The human’s right of self-determination overrides the aristocratic privileges of the fruit.

The Solution of the Pri Eytz Hadar (Guidebook for Tu B’Shvat Sedarim)[3]
For those who follow the first opinion, everyone at the table would say their blessing-of-gratitude-for-fruit-bearing trees over an olive, and then partake of all the other fruits which were covered by that blessing. Fortunate are the olives that land at such a table on Tu B’Shvat.
For those who follow the second opinion, everyone chooses the fruit that they prefer. Yet even here there is some confusion: Does this mean that they should choose their all-time favorite fruit, or the one that in this moment catches their eye? There are opinions in both directions.
The Pri Eytz Hadar suggests the following practice which honors both values. Each person should pick the fruit that is their favorite, the one that they want to honor with their blessing. Then the Seder proceeds according to the Scale of Yichus. Meaning, in terms of fruit, the olives are distributed and verses are read where olives are mentioned. Then, the person who chose olives as their favorite, says a blessing and eats their olive. But no one else eats olives yet. Then dates are distributed, verses are read, the one who chose dates recites the blessing, and that person can now eat not only dates, but all that came before (in this case, olives). Next the grapes are distributed, verses are read, the one who chose grapes recites the blessing and he or she can now eat all that came before. Everyone else has all these previously blessed fruits on their plate but they have not yet tasted them, for they are waiting till their favorite fruit comes up in the Scale of Yichus which proceeds as follows:
1) Olives 2) Dates 3) Grapes 4) Figs 5) Pomegranate 6) Etrog 7) Apple Walnut 9) Almond 9) Carob 10) Pear 11) Quince 12) Peach 13) Etc.
Not all of these fruits have to be claimed as the favorite by someone at the seder since those who choose fruits later on the list may have to wait quite a while before they partake. It is also fine for more than one person to choose each fruit.
Tu B’Shvat is New Year’s Day for fruit-bearing trees. May it be a year of abundant rain, nutritious soil, conscious pruning, right temperatures, successful pollination, disease and pest resistance, and bountiful harvest for the ilanot of the world. And may our Tu B’Shvat fruit-fest remind us that HaShem loves variety, color, vitality, sweetness and savor. And may we take that truth to heart. And may it change us in ways that serve only good.
———————-
1SA 211:1 and MB there (based on TB Brochot 40b, opinion of R. Yehuda in Mishna).
2SA 211:2 and MB there (based on TB Brochot 40b, opinion of Sages in Mishna).
3Pri Eytz Hadar, , Seder Tu B’Shvat (Mansour).

Share/Save

Based on R. Tsadok Hakohen, Pri Tsadik – Chanuka #1
Sarah Yehudit Schneider

A favorite job of the kohanim (Temple priests) was to daily light the menorah in the inner courtyard. And the midrash reports that HaShem promised Aharon that even if the Temple were destroyed and all the other offerings ceased, the mitzvah of kindling the menorah would endure for all time. [BR 15:6] This obviously presaged the festival of Chanukha, for since the time of the Maccabi’s revolt, Jews throughout the world, reenact the mitzvah of the Temple menorah for eight days out of every year. [Ramban, Num. 8:2]
Rav Tsadok elaborates. The kohanim had a two-pronged assignment: They were both priests and teachers. As priests they performed the Temple rituals and sacrificial offerings (which included lighting the menorah)…as teachers (along with the levi’im) they educated the people about Torah matters and (along with the Elders) adjudicated questions of law. Rav Tsadok explains that their task as educators actually turned their extended family into a living menorah that shone the light of Torah wisdom out into the world. Rav Tsadok says that this is the real meaning behind HaShem’s promise that “the mitzvah of kindling the menorah would endure for all time.”
The kohanim were the initial repositories of the Oral Torah as the verse states: And you shall come to the priests, levites…and you shall do according to the Torah that they teach you.” [Deut. 17:9-11] Hashem granted the kohanim an extraordinary power to transmit that Oral Torah straight into the hearts of their flock, says R. Tsadok (himself a kohen). “The priest’s lips will preserve [true] knowledge as [the people] seek Torah from his mouth, for he is a messenger of the Lord of hosts.” [Malachi 2:7] HaShem equipped the kohanim with a strength of soul and a special mitzvah that, together, assured their success. For when the High Priest lit the menorah his intention was actually a prayer, that the lights now kindled should impart to the people an even deeper understanding of what it means that G-d is one, present, and directing the world toward its destined perfection (with failure not an option). His prayerful service impacted the world from the inside-out as well as from outside-in.
Benei Yisachar explains that “these eight days are called Chanukha for by kindling the menorah we are practicing and training (chinukh) for the final redemption.”1 This accords with the Baal HaTurim’s radical comment on the verse where HaShem calls Israel “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.”[Ex. 9:6] Baal HaTurim reads this as a promise that “in the future, if we merit, every one of the Jewish people will become a high priest (kohen gadol).”2 And since the high priest lit the menorah, we are practicing for the future redemption when our job will then include this kindling of lights.
But what are we supposed to learn from our yearly training regimen. R. Tsadok suggests that the main ingredient of the menorah-lighting was the prayerful intention the priest brought to the task. R. Tsadok derives this from the famous midrash [Rashi, Num .8:3] that praises Aharon for following the instructions (of kindling the lamps) precisely. R. Tsadok reads this as hinting to the inner essence of the mitzvah, “the intention to infuse the hearts of Israel with the radiant light of Torah sh’baal Peh.”3
But to incorporate that kavanna into our own Chanukha practice we need to know: What is this Oral Torah transmitted through the kohen’s teachings, symbolized by the kindling of lights and empowered by his prayer? R. Tsadok employs the term in two ways. First as the authoritative chain of tradition beginning with Moses and passing from mouth to ear, master to disciple, from Sinai till today. Second is the accumulated wisdom pressed from the hearts of Jews striving to live with integrity to the truths they absorbed at Sinai, no matter what their standing in the community or level of religious observance.4 The Oral Torah is the Living Torah, the cutting edge of the tradition that responds to the newly-encountered circumstances of each moment (and each generation) and identifies the most spiritually productive (and halachicly consistent) response to it.
And so on Chanukha as High-Priests-in-training our hope is to enlighten the world with our incandescent menorot. Let the glow from these lamps infuse the hearts of your people with the certain knowledge of how to use each moment in a way that serves you and pleases you and glorifies your name. Let our nation and its leaders become masters of the Living Torah, inspired by foresight and kindled with courage to choose the high road despite its risks because conscience requires it of us. And may we soon become the living menorah—the light unto the nations—that is our truth and our destiny.
———————-
1 B’nei Yissachar, Kislev-Tevet, #12. [שע"כ קראו לימים האלה חנוכה שהוא חינוך והרגל לגאולה העתידה ב"ב.] Benei Yissachar interprets this phrase to mean that we are expressing our hope that the third Beit HaMikdash will be initiated (chanukhat habayit) at this time, i.e. in Kislev (which is the promise). He himself does not connect this phrase to Baal HaTurim and does not discuss the notion of us practicing to become, ourselves, high priests.
2 One interpretation (Seforno) is that Third Temple will be like the originally envisioned one that was replaced instead by the mishkan of wood, skins and cloth when we sinned with the Golden Calf. But originally the “mishkan” was to be the living community of Israel. The people themselves going about their daily, God-serving lives would have embodied the presence of G d and revealed His light to the world.
3. R. Tsadok considers this praise of Aharon’s fulfillment of HaShem’s will conspicuous for its exception. Doesn’t Aharon fulfill all of HaShem’s command’s precisely? And so R. Tsadok interprets this praise as a reference to the intention that was also “precisely” in accordance with HaShem’s will.
4 R. Tsadok HaKohen, Pri Tsadik (Fruit of the Righteous), Chankha 2 (p. 142); ibid Chodesh Adar, essay 1; Likutei Maamarim p. 80-82; Yisrael Kedoshim p. 152.

Share/Save

Announcing the release of a new book:

PurimBursts 2

the second decade of Purim teachings from A Still Small Voice.

( Hardcover, small format, 168 pp.). $14.95 / 50 NIS.

20% Discount on all orders received before Purim ($11.96 / 40 NIS plus shipping)

Share/Save

Tu B’Shvat, 5771 / 2011

Sarah Yehudit Schneider

The Mishna informs us that there are actually four New Year’s days in the Jewish calendar as well as four Judgment Days^[1]. It then proceeds to explain the significance of each. There is a subtle quirk in the Mishna’s language that begs interpretation.  Among these eight red-letter days, three apply to fruit trees. The 1^st of Tishrei marks the New Year for saplings^[2]; the 15^th of Shvat (Tu B’Shvat) marks the New Year for budding trees^[3], and on the 6^th of Sivan (Shavuot) the fruitage of the year’s harvest receives its heavenly reckoning.

The Mishna lists each of these eight dates along with the cycle that begins anew when it comes around—the reign of kings, the tithing of vegetables, the years of creation, the new budget of spiritual resources available this year, etc. And in each instance, the Mishna uses a plural subject—kings, years, livestock, rain, etc.—except for the three times that it mentions fruit trees. On those occasions the Mishna employs a singular noun—tree—though a plural form would have been more correct.

In this way, says R. Tsadok^[4] the Mishna presents both a literal teaching about how to apply our agricultural laws to the fruit harvest, and simultaneously directs our attention to the one-and-only-tree, the tree-that-embraces-all-trees, the tree that stands “at the Garden’s center,” the tree that is called the Tree of Life. The dense network of channels and tributaries (on the inner plane) that circulates life force to all created things is the corpus of this Tree of Life. The pith of every person is a stalk connected to a branch connected to the trunk connected to the roots of this cosmic Tree with roots above and fruits below whose branches reach to every corner of the universe.

The Tree of Life has as many fruits as there are creatures (and moments) in the world. The Shekhina is its gardener and she daily plucks its ripened yield. Every spark (including our very own soul) will eventually mature into a fully mellowed fruit whose final (and coveted) milestone is to be eaten with delight by the holy Shekhina. A spark must labor lifetimes to be worthy of this privilege. The Shekhina only dines on fruits that are edible through and through. In the course of its “growing season” the spark must dissolve all barriers to the light—both skins without and kernels within. By the Shekhina’s standards, an edible fruit is an enlightened fruit—whose boundaries are transparent, whose kernals of potential have been fully actualized, and whose will always aligns with spiritual law.

But this is not an all or nothing affair. The Torah informs us that “Man is a tree of the field.” Each of us is simultaneously a fruit on the cosmic Tree of Life, and a mini-tree in our own right, producing fruits of varied sorts, that are simply the deeds of our lives. The goal is to find the most spiritually productive option and to choose it with a whole heart. The sparks that enliven those perfectly ripened moments are plucked by the Shekhina and savored by Her.^[5] Conversely, our imperfect deeds, with shells and pits that resist the light, require rounds of tikun before they are done.

Tu B’Shvat is New Year’s Day for the cosmic Tree of Life. And on that day the Shekhina prays for all her holy fruits (i.e., us) that our lives should yield a bumper crop of ripened sparks this year. And we align our prayer with hers and strive for the same thing: that every step we take and every choice we make should bear fruits that are only good. And bringing it down another notch to include our branched and rooted friends, may it be a year of abundant rain, nutritious soil, conscious pruning, right temperatures, successful pollination, disease and pest resistance, and bountiful harvest for the fruit trees of the world.

———————–

[1[ 1^st of Nissan – which starts a new year when reckoning the length of a king’s reign and for [establishing the order of] the festivals.

1^st of Elul – which starts a new year for the tithing of animals.

1^st of Tishrey (which is also Rosh HaShanna) – which starts a new year for the counting of years, Sabbaticals, Jubilees, the sapling, and vegetables.

15^th of Shvat – which starts a new year for the tree.

In contrast, the four judgment days are:

Pesach (15^th of Nissan) – when the world is judged concerning the grain harvest.

Shavuot (7^th of Sivan) – when the word is judged concerning the fruits of the tree.

Rosh HaShanna (1^st of Tishrei) – when the spiritual (and by extension, material) resources that will be available to each creature are determined for the coming year.

Sukhot (15^th of Tishrei) – when Heaven decrees how much rain will fall in the coming year.

[^2] For counting orlah years.

[^3]For counting trumot, maserot and shmitot.

[^4] Pri Tsadik Vol. 2 (Shmot), Tu B’Shvat.

^[5]The Shekhina is called the behema who consumes the produce of a thousand hills each day. Also R. Shlomo Elyashuv, HDOH 2:3:20; HDOH 2:4:16:3

Share/Save

For the Birthday of Avraham David ben Naftali v’Rivka

A Teaching by Sarah Yehudit Schneider

on What Would Have Been His 19^th Birthday

We have just stepped into the month of Cheshvan, the month that is the birthday of Avraham David ben Naftali v’ Rivka, one of the eight boys murdered in their innocence while studying Torah at the Mercaz HaRav Yeshiva in 2008. Avraham David would have been 19 years old today. Our Torah study on this night should bring an aliyat haneshama for his pure and holy soul.

I’m going to speak about the month of Cheshvan, and in particular the timely fact (in terms of parshiot) that it was in Cheshvan that the מבול, the famous flood, began.  R. Tsadok HaKohen has some inspiring teachings on this subject.

He explains that HaShem was hoping to bring down the Torah in Noach’s generation.  All the pieces were there, including the soul of Moshe Rabbenu, which the Talmud (Chulin 139b) proves from a verse in Bereshit, 6:3, which contains the word בשגם  (b’shagam) a word whose primary distinction is that it shares the same gematria as משה, both equal 345.  The verse describes HaShem’s, quote (unquote), disappointment with the fallen state of humanity and introduces a discussion (a soliloquy, really) that ends with His decision to blot out creation through flood.

And HaShem said, My spirit shall not abide in man forever, for that he is also flesh; therefore his days shall be a hundred and twenty years.

וַיֹּאמֶר יְהֹוָה לֹא יָדוֹן רוּחִי בָאָדָם לְעֹלָם בְּשַׁגַּם הוּא בָשָׂר וְהָיוּ יָמָיו מֵאָה וְעֶשְׂרִים שָׁנָה:

The pshat of the verse isn’t so relevant to the Talmud, more its context and the appearance of a word with the same gematria as Moshe.  And so, teaches R. Tsadok, HaShem wanted to bring the Torah down then, as soon as possible after Adam, and if that generation had been worthy, so it would have been.  The Talmud (San. 108b) teaches that HaShem tried several strategies to bring the generation around.  First He bribed them with a taste of עה”ב, hoping they would taste the bait and see that it was certainly worth their while to rise to the occasion. When that failed he started the rains gently, showing that the threat of flood was real, but giving them a week’s reprieve and one last opportunity for teshuva.

If only they had seized the moment, turned over a new leaf, and dedicated their lives to truth and good…they would have received the most precious gift in the universe, the holy Torah…which, as we know, is always compared to water.  Instead, in stubborn arrogance, they turned their backs on this golden opportunity, persisting in their wayward path.  Those same awesome Torah lights now crashed down, no longer expressing themselves as sweet, life-nourishing wisdoms…rather, instead, as מים זדונים, destructive, hurtful flood waters. From the negative we learn the positive.  As great as the flood’s power of devastation, so is the Torah’s power of tikun.  (עץ חיים היא למחזיקים בה…).

Noach’s generation was offered the highest honor possible in the universe, the opportunity to receive the Torah.  They blew it, and those very same lights that contained the sweetest teachings ever, now manifested as raging waters of death and destruction. All this occurred in the month of cheshvan.

R. Tsadok uses this to support an amazing and relevant teaching.  He derives a spiritual law from Noach’s story.  R. Taodok says that it is always true, that whenever we stumble in our lives, (be it our family lives, spiritual lives, emotional lives, career lives, whatever) there was some blessing that was trying to come through in that moment, and for whatever reason we didn’t rise to the occasion — perhaps we didn’t get the message at all, we didn’t even know that there was an opportunity at hand; perhaps we under-estimated the value of what was being offered so it didn’t seem worth its price tag; perhaps we really did try to seize the moment but couldn’t manage to change a bad habit that was blocking the way—whatever the reason, we blew it.  HaShem offered us a gift and it slipped through our hands and the worst part is that it feels like there’s no second chance.  The moment is gone it won’t come again.

R. Tsadok says no, in fact the opposite is true.  That blessing that was slated to come into our lives is permanently attached to our soul. And even more.  It’s not just attached to our soul, it is an actual piece of our soul, a spark of ourselves that got lost out there and needs to be brought back in.

In the shevirat hakelim (the breaking of the vessels), not only did the universe shatter, but every piece within it, including each of our own souls.  Consequently when a soul comes into incarnation, only part of it actually dwells inside its body.  The rest of it, the shattered pieces of itself, are strewn throughout the universe. So, HaShem guides us step by step, moment by moment, from coordinate A to coordinate B, because in each moment there is a spark, a lost splinter of ourselves, that needs to be rescued and brought back in.  Slowly, day by day, as we move through life, we become more whole, for we are constantly absorbing new lights that were really just estranged pieces of ourselves all along.  The recovery of a piece of our soul is always (eventually) experienced as a blessing.

Based on this model, according to R. Tsadok, there is always a second chance, and a third, etc…however many chances we need to get it right and earn the blessing…for the spark inside that blessing has nowhere else to go. Its home is our soul, and eventually every scattered spark must find its way home.

So how is this true for the דור המבול (the flood generation).  How do we see them recovering their lost blessing of the Torah.  Amazingly, the Ari teaches that the דור המבול will reconvene as the souls that comprise the generation that greets Mashiach. According to the Ari, the אנשי סדום (the generation of Sodom) came back as the generation of יציאת מצרים (who exited Egypt); the דור הפלגה (Tower of Babel generation) came back as the עולה גולה (the returnees from Bavel in Ezra’s time), and the דור המבול (the flood generation) will return as the דור  המשיח (the generation that greets Mashiach).

And one thing we know about the messianic time is that all the Torah’s hidden teachings will be revealed.  The midrash says that the Torah of Mashiach will be so radiant that all the Torah we’ve learned thus far, all the sweet and holy teachings that fill our libraries; that have rejoiced the hearts and brightened the eyes of generations, are dull husks before the lights that will shine as Torah of mashiach. The דור המבול (flood generation) will get all that they lost, and more.

And the culmination of this process will happen in Cheshvan, for according to Bnei Yisachar, the Third Temple will be built by Mashiach in the month of Cheshvan. In Cheshvan the stumbling occurred, the holy gift of Torah was spurned, so in Cheshvan the tikun will occur.

Now I want to explore another very relevant implication of this teaching.  Many of us walk around terrorized by the thought that at some point, HaShem offered us a blessing at a crossroads, and for whatever reason, we chose the wrong path, passed it by, and it seems all too clear that the opportunity will not come again.  The terror comes from the sense that we missed the opportunity to accomplish something essential to the purpose of our lives…that we failed on a cosmic scale, that our life mission can no longer happen properly, and that the loss is irreparable.

R. Tsadok says that that is impossible.  And he says an even more amazing thing.  He says that the whole thing is a setup.  He says that the blessing, when it first came down as a missed opportunity, was in a form that we were incapable of absorbing.  He says that the blessing itself is what knocked us over…the blessing itself caused the stumbling that resulted in its opportunity being lost.

Why?  Why would HaShem set up the world like this?  Why would he purposely cause us to fail?

The answer is that our yearning to recover what we’ve tasted and lost is the most powerful driving force in the universe.  And, in the course of our efforts to find that elusive promise of pleasure, we transform, sometimes consciously, sometimes by the by, But in the end, when we recapture that lost blessing, which we surely will, we are now a different person.  Our experiences along the way have changed us in ways that make us now perfectly configured to receive the blessing that we missed before.  And, דווקא, because of these changes, we enjoy the blessing on a higher, fuller level than would have been possible the first time around.

This model applies at all times but it comes up especially, each year, in the month of Cheshvan.  Both because of the flood but for other reasons as well. We generated a lot of merit in Tishrey through our many prayers, new-years resolutions and mountains of mitzvot.  We are surrounded by a cloud of holy lights that are the sparks we stirred up through our Tishrey avodah.  Just as physical clouds hold the blessing of rain, so do these spiritual clouds hold the blessings that will pour down into our lives this coming year.

And just as for physical rains we need cisterns to hold them and absorb them. And if our cisterns are too small, the rains then turn into floods that destroy instead of nurture.

The midrash says that until King Solomon built the first Temple, (which he completed on the first of Cheshvan) there was always a fear of flood every Cheshvan, when the rains began to fall.  People were afraid that the rains might just keep pouring, overwhelming their cisterns, and turning into a flood.

Why did this change just because the Beit HaMikdash was built?  Because the Beit Hamikdash, the Temple is a structure that is perfectly designed to absorb and transform light into blessing.  It is a spiritual cistern of infinite capacity.  Its physical structure combined with the avoda happening within, operated similar to an electric power plant that generates huge amounts of electricity but only sends the right amount through the wires to each one of our homes.  Similarly the Beit HaMikdash performed a parallel function on the spiritual plane.  Consequently, once it was built there was no longer a fear of being drowned by our blessings.

Now thus far, I have focused on Rav Tsadok’s teachings as they pertain to our individual lives.  But his model applies equally to our collective journey. The tragedies that befall our people can also be attributed to this flood of holy lights trying to come in (destined to come in), and yet, if our collective vessel is not yet equipped to hold them, they will overwhelm us and (at least, temporarily) wreak havoc . And some of us are chosen—and and burdened—with bearing a disproportionate share of that load for the rest of us.

That’s one understanding of Mashiach ben Yosef (depicted both as the warrior Mashiach and the suffering servant of Isaiah 53), who is sometimes portrayed as the composite of those individuals who have born the brunt (the lion’s share) of our collective hardships—the transpersonal ones—that apply more to the Jewish people as an entity than to the individuals who are bearing them. They are the mysterious price tag connected to our national (and cosmic) mission of shining the Torah’s ethical monotheism out to every corner of our global village until “knowledge of G-d finally fills the world like the waters cover the seas.”

And yet, the second part of R. Tsadok’s teaching also applies, meaning that it is also true that the terrible losses that we endure (as final and as poignant as they appear) will also experience their reversal…whether in this world or the next, we will reunite with all the sparks connected to our soul…all the ones that we have lost and mourned along the way—be they lost objects, lost opportunities, or lost beloveds—because that is the promise and the law, that we can never permanently lose anything that is connected to our soul.

So I want to bless us on this 6^th of Cheshvan, the 19^th birthday of Avraham David ben Naftali v’Rivka, that HaShem should help us to make the right decisions in our lives (both individually and collectively) enabling us to integrate all of our blessings to the fullest extent possible without having to stumble…or, if stumbling must occur, to learn to stumble in the most spiritually productive way possible.  This should be the year that the promise be fulfilled, that we build the third Temple with mashiach at our helm in the month of Cheshvan as our tradition foretells.  And we should speak the words that David HaMelekh wrote when he envisioned the Temple, built and glowing, in his mind’s eye

הָפַכְתָּ מִסְפְּדִי לְמָחוֹל לִי פִּתַּחְתָּ שַֹקִּי וַתְּאַזְּרֵנִי שִֹמְחָה

Psalms 30:12. You have turned my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth, and girded me with joy.

Share/Save

Tisha B’Av, 5770/2010 Sarah Yehudit Schneider

Everyone knows that Tisha B’Av (the 9^th of Av) is the lowest point of the Jewish calendar. HaShem’s protective aura thins, and we grow vulnerable to error and to harm. The downward tug of this time is ancient, and nearly impossible to resist. It started when Essav’s guardian angel attacked Yaakov on this day and dislocated his hip.¹ Since the hip area includes the generative triad (comprised of the three sefirot: netzach, hod, yesod) kabbala interprets this as an impurifying of the generations to come. The angel could not penetrate Yaakov’s protective aura, says R. Tsadok, but it was able to contaminate the seed-stock of the Jewish people with a smudge of its narcissistic filth.^2,3

In the Torah’s lexicon of symbols, Essav is the forbear of Amalek, Israel’s archenemy—the fearsome embodiment of unrepentant evil.⁴ Every other creature has at least a sliver of soul, a ray of God that dwells within and sustains its life. Yet these progeny of Essav are hollow men, who absorb their life juice through their skin.⁵ They feed off the sparks that fly from the clashing of matter and psyches in conflict. They are chronic provocateurs, for their survival requires exactly this. If conflict would cease, so would they, for they have no inner wellspring from which to draw life. These empty creatures with a void at their core are the spiritual offspring of Amalek. Like viral spores they float through history, invisible, until they find a host who is susceptible to their hate-filled contagion.⁶

Hitler and his Nazi thugs are textbook specimens of the Amalekian profile which features the following traits:

-    extreme narcissism and grandiosity (⁷.אני אמלוך.⁸ כחי ועוצם ידי)

-    causeless hatred (⁹אל אחר שאין לו דעת אסתרס…)

-  capacity for unconscionable cruelty (מי שיש בו ואכזריות… חוששין לו ביותר…¹⁰)

-    aspiration to supplant G-d, and rule the world in His stead. (¹²ולית דיין.)

The Jewish I-center views Amalek as the polar opposite other—the one who possesses all the traits that we, as a people, revile. Yet it is equally true (from the teaching above) that we also carry a smidgen of Amalekian stain as descendents of Yaakov’s (otherwise) holy seed.

Perhaps this is why our conflicts in this country often deteriorate into name-calling, with the N-word at the top of the list. We can’t seem to quarrel about matters close to heart without reducing the other to an irredeemable louse. It is most telling that these nazi accusations go both ways. You are a nazi because you dare to impose secular values above God’s law. And you are a nazi because of your racism which amounts to causeless hatred toward people of different descent.  You are a nazi because you follow orders like a robot without questioning their ethics and relevance to the modern world. And you are nazi for betraying the Jewish people by providing ammunition to their detractors.  And you are a nazi for creating an apartheid Jewish state. And so it goes, on and on and on.

If it is true that causeless hatred prompted the Temple’s demise and only its opposite can save us…then we have got to find another way to disagree among ourselves. Wherever we stand on the political spectrum, the most nazi-like behavior is to reduce our adversary to his most disagreeable feature, fixate on that point alone, and then brand him a loathsome nazi with a clear conscience, for in our narrow vision he shrinks to only that.

And this is what distinguishes a political frame from a spiritual one. In politics the power of one’s position comes from proving that there is not one shred of truth on the other side—you are completely wrong, and I am completely right. This has its pros and cons. On the pro side, its (illusion of) certainty fires passion and reduces anxiety. On the con side, it is just not true, for it is the nature of our complex world that real truth is never purely black and white. There is always a sliver of legitimacy to the other side.

And that is Judaism’s chidush to the world.  Centuries before the word, “paradox” appeared in the English language, the Talmud asserted the (higher) truth of paradox as the rectified model for approaching dispute.1³ “These and these [which totally contradict them], are both words of the living G-d…Yet in practical matters we follow the ruling of X.”¹⁴

This is the Talmud’s simple approach to conflict: (1) Identify the truth of both sides. (2) After exploring the full range of perspectives and finding the merit in each—only then is it time to pick the best one to guide the action at hand. The Talmud’s approach honors truth, promotes peace and stretches the mind. But it also produces anxiety—decisions are harder when options are perceived as shades of gray instead of clearly demarcated blacks and whites.

You might argue that I am taking the Talmud’s teaching out of context—that it only accorded the status of “G-d’s truth” to the words of a Torah scholar. You might argue that it never intended to extend this principle to the simple, heretical (and ignorant) masses. And you might be technically correct.

Yet, along with the Torah of ink on parchment there is also the Torah of souls. Just as there are 600,000 letters of the written Torah, so are there 600,000 root souls in the spiritual community of Israel.¹⁵ Each individual that comes into the world embodies some unique piece of one of these sixty myriad letters. And so, says R. Tsadok,¹⁶ just as there is a scroll of ink on parchment, so is there a scroll of souls that includes the entire unfolding of generations. The sum-total of the soul-sparks of Israel comprise a single and complete Torah…the real Torah…the one that HaShem studies on His side of the heavenly mechitza.¹⁷ And just as “there is no truth that is not Torah,”¹⁸ so there is no Torah that is not holding some deep and eternal truth. That applies to the Torah on parchment as well as the Torah of souls, which means there is always some truth, perhaps very hidden, in the perspective of every Jew.  That doesn’t mean you have to accept it as your own guiding light.  But it does mean (if the Talmud be our guide) that you must search it out, appreciate its point, and then you can decide against it, if it doesn’t accord with the priorities of your view of the world.

Let us draw from the tools of our tradition and apply the Talmud’s model to the interpersonal challenges of our time. Let us take our teachings out of the books and into the streets, households and (batei) kenesset. If we want to remove the smidgen of Amalek from our souls, we must learn to respectfully disagree. HaShem should grant us the ears to hear the “words of the living G-d” as they radiate from each letter of His precious Torah of souls. And let the peace that is born from this practice mach’zik the brocha¹⁹ of mashiach, our fasting should turn to feasting and we should celebrate redemption, NOW.

————————-

Zohar 1:170b; R. Tsadok Hokohen, Kometz Mincha, (Yahadut, Bnei Brak, 5735 / 1975), p. 71-78 (*74); R. Natan Sternholz of Beslov, Likutey Halachoth, Orach Chaim, Hilchoth Hodayah 6:25.

² R. Tsadok Hokohen, ibid.

³ Gen. 36:1 identifies Essav with Edom, and Gen. 36:31-39 describes the “kings that ruled in Edom before there was a king to the children of Israel.” R. Isaac Luria (Ari) reads this passage as hinting to the seven primordial universes created and destroyed before our own, or eighth in the sequence. These first seven kings (or primordial worlds) were riddled with narcissism and shared a lust to rule the world (“ani emlokh”). Consequently, in kabbala, Edom becomes synonymous with power-lust and narcissism.

⁴ Gen. 36:12.

⁵ Leshem, HDOH, chelek 2, drush 4, anaf 18, siman 7.

⁶ R. Tsadok HaKohen, Yisrael Kedoshim, chapter 8 (p. 97, first edition).

⁷ Deut. 8:17.

⁸ Kings 1:1:5. The sefira of daat is the place where empathy originates, and Kabbala explains that “the other god, is castrated, and has no daat (ie no capacity for true empathy).

⁹ Zohar 2:103a; Ari, Eytz Chayim, shaar 48, perek 2; Gra, Sifra d’Tsniuta, perek 3,4.

¹⁰ שו”ע אבן העזר סימן ב, TB Yevamot 78b-79a.

¹¹ BR 26:6.

¹² BR 26:6.

¹³ The word, paradoxus is of Greek origin, but its original meaning was “something surprising and unexpected.”

¹⁴ TB Eruvin 13b

¹⁵ Zohar Chadash 74d, Megalla Amukoth 186.  This count includes the subletters (for example, that letter alef is built from two yuds and a vav. Otherwise, there are 304, 805 letters in the Torah.

¹⁶ ר’ צדק הכהן, צדקת הצדיק אות קצ”ו (סוף).

¹⁷ ר, שלמה עליאשאוו, ספר הכללים, כלל ח”י ענף י’ סימן ג’ אות י”ב.

¹⁸ TY RH 3:8.

¹⁹ Mishna, Uktzin 3:12. “R. Simeon b. Halafta said: the Blessed Holy One found no vessel that could grasp and contain blessing for Israel save that of peace, as it is written: the Lord will give strength unto his people; the Lord will bless his people with peace.”

Share/Save

This Shavuot teaching is dedicated to the health and prosperity of Moshe Aharon ben Bess and was sponsored by his loved ones.

Shavuot, 5770 (2010)

Based on Sod Yesharim (Radziner Rebbe)

(the actual text appears below)

While HaShem revealed the Torah no bird chirped, no fowl flew, no ox lowed, the Ophanim stirred not a wing, the Seraphim ceased their “Holy, Holy, Holy’s,” the sea did not roar, and no creature peeped…the whole world held still in breathless silence while the voice reverberated: I AM HASHEM YOUR GOD [and spoke the Commandments that changed our world.]… (Shmot Rabba 29:9)

We Jews pride ourselves in the fact that our religion began as a collective revelation. An estimated four million people (divided into 600,000 family units) simultaneously experienced a direct encounter with the infinite One.1 A searing revelation of Presence engraved the souls of an entire nation with the-truth-of-the-universe compressed into a single burst of light. Its impact continues to impel their generations to be seekers and servants of G‑d, and is certain to do so till the end of time.

Tradition teaches that each family that exited Egypt embodied a root soul, one of 600,000 that comprise the pool of neshamot incarnating, generation after generation, as the Israelite nation. Every Jew from that point onward embodies a different sliver of one of those 600,000 root souls—actualizing a drop of its potential through the odyssey of his or her life.

This means that every Jewish soul carries a memory trace of that Sinaic encounter. And it is partly because of this—because we heard it with our own “ears” so to speak—that we are bound by the covenant that was sealed that day. Somewhere, deep down, our soul remembers that earth-shaking event and the obligations it undertook at the mountain’s base.

But wait! The fact is we only committed to 10 Commandments that day. How did our obligations mushroom into 613?

Our sages explain that, in fact, all of the mitzvot are included in those original ten.2 One proof is that the Ten Commandments contain 620 letters corresponding to the 613 Torah mitzvot plus 7 rabbinic commands.

But it’s even more complicated than that, for our own history attests that we actually only heard the first two commandments direct from HaShem.3 Their revelation was so intense we feared for our lives—our souls flew from our bodies at each word. HaShem revived us with His resurrecting dew, the same drops He will use to restore souls to bodies in the end of days. We “died” over sixty times in those first two commandments. It was just too much, and finally we begged Moshe to be our intermediary and relay the message to us.

Even so, says the Oral Tradition, these first two Commandments, themselves, are comprehensive—every other mitzvah is simply a detail of how to fulfill one of these all-inclusive two. The First Commandment which declares the fact of God’s existence is the root of all the “248 positive directives,” those that require us “to do” a certain act of service. The Second Commandment, which forbids the worship of idols, is the root of all “365 negative commandants” that instruct us to abstain from a specific wrong-action. And really, says the midrash, both the positive and the negative are contained within the first one. If we really understood what it means that G‑d is one, as expressed through the First Commandment, our instinctive and reflexive response to the world would always accord with spiritual law—we would naturally and spontaneously choose the high road including any mitzvah relevant to the moment.

And so, the entire Torah is contained within the first commandment, which is not actually a command at all, but a declaration of truth: “I am HaShem your G‑d who brought you out of the land of Egypt…” Every Jewish soul heard these words straight from their Creator. And according to R. Tsadok HaKohen, the prophesy emanated from within and was vocalized through our very own voice box.4

The world was completely still when this truth-that-contains-all-other-truths was revealed. There could be no interference to distort its reception. The slightest static at this critical moment would garble the message for eternity. This global hush also proved that there were no dissenting views. Each creature was awed to silence when their Creator now revealed Himself as a personal G‑d—who speaks through prophesy, guides history, and demands virtue.

We took this First Commandment in as best we could but its implications were bigger than we could bear. The goal of our lives individually and collectively is to achieve an ever-deepening integration of what it means that G‑d is one. And towards this end, says the midrash, HaShem restates this fundamental truth over and over and over again. Each day HaShem rebroadcasts the First Commandment out into the world.

Why don’t we hear it? What keeps us from taking it in? The Sod Yesharim explains that we must reproduce the original conditions of its revelation. We must designate a time in our day to quiet our thoughts and cease activity. If we want to receive the First Commandment into our heart, bones, cells and spaces then we have no choice but to hush the static. And the tool for quieting chatter is meditation (in one form or another). If HaShem bothers to reiterate the First Commandment each day then we need to make the silent space to hear His message.

Let it be on this Shavuot, as the Torah is revealed anew, that we draw its precious teachings deep inside our souls. May it inspire an abundance of good deeds, joyful study, loving prayer and fruitful silence. And may the transformation born from this service radiate to the outskirts of the world. And may the Torah’s holy lights resolve the schism between truth and peace, and in so doing, bring Mashiach now.

—————————

Exodus 19: 6-20:15

2 Num. Rabbah 13:16; R. Saadia Gaon, Azharot; Rashi, Ex. 24:12.

3 Makkot 24a, Rashi Shmot 19:19

4 Tsidkat HaTsadik 193.

Share/Save

A Pesach Teaching 2010 / תשע by Sarah Yehudit Schneider

הָא לַחְמָא עַנְיָא דִּי אֲכָלוּ אַבְהָתָנָא בְּאַרְעָא דְמִצְרָיִם.

כָּל דִּכְפִין יֵיתֵי וְיֵיכוֹל.

כָּל דִּצְרִיךְ יֵיתֵי וְיִפְסַח.

הָשַׁתָּא הָכָא, לְשָׁנָה הַבָּאָה בְּאַרְעָא דְיִשְׂרָאֵל.

הָשַׁתָּא עַבְדֵּי, לְשָׁנָה הַבָּאָה בְּנֵי חוֹרִין:

This is the bread of affliction that our fathers ate in the land of Egypt.

All who are hungry, let them come and eat.

All who are needy, let them come and join this Passover Sedar.

Now we are here; next year in the land of Israel.

Now we are slaves; next year [we will be] free people.

The fifth stage of the Seder, called Magid (literally, Telling the Story) begins with the proclamation presented above, that is formulated in the colloquial Aramaic (instead of scholarly Hebrew) so that its invitation to the needy should be understood by all.

And yet, it has been observed that if we were really serious about this invitation we would stand in our doorways and shout it to the streets, or print it as a poster and tack it to our gates. Instead we speak it behind closed doors to the honored guests who are already seated.

One explanation is that we are speaking to the hungry and needy layers of our own soul, the parts of us that don’t completely buy this faith-thing. The dark corners of our psyche burdened by fundamental questions, doubts, lacks, fears or complaints. They are starving for truths that will resolve their disbelief and finally set them free. Our habit is to pretend they don’t exist—we shush their questions and stuff their cynical comments under the rug. Out of sight, out of mind, we start to imagine ourselves as immaculate and persecuted Guardians of the Faith.

One sure sign that it’s not so simple is when we feel intolerant toward other people’s questions and irritated when they don’t accept the answers we propose. That’s proof we haven’t resolved those issues to the full satisfaction of our own soul. If we were addressing the questioner with fully integrated faith, the encounter would not produce agitation on our part. Anxiety points to something unsettled beneath the surface. And further proof of our limited faith is the persistent presence of unrectified desires (aka, the yetzer). They show that our faith has not penetrated the corners of soul where those wayward impulses derive.

But tonight these inner skeptics and malcontents are honored guests. They get pulled from their dungeon, welcomed to the table…and really, the entire evening’s ritual is directed toward them. These straggling layers of soul are the limiting factor in our personal and spiritual development. They are the reason we are not free. As long as there are (disowned) parts of ourselves still not infused with faith, the Hagada’s declaration applies, “Now we are slaves, [but hopefully, and partially, as a result of our Passover Seder] next year we will be free.” Now we are coerced to behave properly, but next year our free choice will absolutely, reliably, lead us to the high road. Now there are parts ourselves still in the dungeon, yet the seeds of faith and experiential encounter with HaShem planted at this Seder assure that by next year they, too, will walk more free.

The mechanism is as follows. Life, among other things, is a spiritual path that courses upward with milestones along its way. At any given moment we are somewhere along its route, and that is our spiritual level. Yet, in truth, this level is not a line but an interval—a whole range of experience. At its upper end is our most exalted encounter with Hashem—the highest we can reach in study, prayer or purity of action. The lower end marks our more constricted states—how far do I fall before catching myself these days, and how frequently do these lapses occur. It is possible to change one’s level by raising the lower edge even though the upper does not budge. And similarly, vice verse.

The lower boundary is our personal Mitzrayim (Egypt) and it is good to be aware of its details. And so it is advised, in preparation for the Seder, to spend some time exploring the questions: “Where are the edges of my faith? What are the situations where my faith collapses into anger, fear, lust or doubt? What causes me to constrict and squeeze G-d out of the moment? What is blocking my next step in personal and spiritual development? What is my most self-defeating personality trait? The idea is to identify the inhabitants of our personal Mitzrayim. They are the hungry and needy ones that we invite to the table and hope to liberate through our Seder.

This accords with the Baal Shem Tov’s instruction to pray for personal deliverance before soliciting universal redemption.1 And the most powerful prayers, says he, are when we actually contact the enslaved parts of our soul, suffer with them, and pray from there.2

And even more, says the Baal Shem Tov, we should formulate our prayer from that fallen place as a class action appeal. We should join ourselves with all the souls throughout the world that are also holding at that level, and when we raise ourselves we should hope and pray to raise them too.3 And that effects a very powerful tikun, for it is possible that our lowest edge is someone else’s highest stretch. And that little bit of overlap enables the contact required to boost them up through our teshuva (for sparks can only be raised through contact). And in that way, our little prayer has global repercussions, way beyond itself.

And so it goes for the Seder. We invite the hungry and needy layers of ourselves. And we extend that invitation to the hungry and needy souls throughout the world who are trapped in the same Mitzrayim as we—who are struggling with comparable issues, hungry for similar truths, chewing the same “bread of affliction.” And the wonder is, that between the slew of us observing Pesach, all bases are covered. Every soul in the universe is connected to a Seder and gets lifted by the transformative ritual that occurs this eve.

Blessings for a truly liberating Pesach for one and for us all. Let our holy Sedarim (Seders) send healing light to the dark corners of the world (including our very own souls). May all who are “invited” attend, and may they (and we) be changed, enlightened, cleansed and raised by its potent ritual of redemption.

1 Sefer Baal Shem Tov (SBST), Shmot 5.

2 SBST Bereshit 189.

3 SBST, Parshat Ve’ara, 3; Parshat Acharei, 2, 3. 

Share/Save