by Motzen | Sep 15, 2020 | Sermons
One of the most moving parts of Rosh Hashana is the reading of Akeidas Yitzchak, the binding of Isaac. Though we are not given insight into his inner state, we can only imagine the turmoil raging inside of Avraham as he obeys G-d’s command. The most dramatic moment takes place with Avraham’s hand raised, about to slaughter his beloved son, and then – the angel cries out, “Stop!”
Avraham is informed that he is not to slaughter his son but he must now find a substitute, an animal offering to bring in his stead. He looks up and he sees a ram struggling in the thicket. The ram is stuck and trying desperately to get free.
What the ram does not realize is that he is not stuck at all. Our Sages beautifully make this point by saying that this ram was prepared from the six days of creation. What they mean to say is that the ram may have thought he was stuck but he was exactly where he needed to be. This ram had a great mission to fulfill, an offering that would change the course of history. The ram was not stuck at all; he just did not realize what he was meant to do.
Many of you feel stuck at home. It’s a terrible feeling and I cannot begin to imagine what it’s like. For many of you, you’ve been stuck at home for months now, with limited human contact. It’s a lot to bear.
Perhaps we can be inspired by the ram to know that we are never stuck. That each situation is an opportunity to grow and to accomplish. That even when we cannot change the situation, our acceptance of the situation IS the accomplishment.
For each of you being at home has its own challenges. The single parent with their children is challenged to remain calm and to inject the day with meaning. The individual who is on their own is challenged to not be overwhelmed by loneliness. Those are challenges of great magnitude and I pray that Hashem gives you the strength to overcome them.
Please remember, as you find yourself in these situations, though it may feel like it, you are not stuck. You are never stuck. You are exactly where you need to be.
by Motzen | Sep 13, 2020 | Sermons
(Link to Part 1 and Part 2)
The Baal Shem Tov was known to travel from city to city on a seeming whim. He would gather some followers, jump in a wagon, and travel. Sometimes they would travel for days and other times they would get in the wagon, get out, and be done with their mysterious. Each time there was a lesson, there was a mission, there was a story.
One time the Baal Shem Tov and how followers arrived in a small town right before Shabbos. The Jews of the town, a devout group, were elated to have the honor of hosting the holy Baal Shem Tov. He was given a seat of honor in the front of the shul and they started davening.
A few minutes into the davening, the Baal Shem Tov turned to the rabbi of the shul and informed him that it was stuffy in the shul. The rabbi quickly called over the gabbai and had him move everyone a few feet back. A few minutes later, the Baal Shem Tov again informed the rabbi that it was still really stuffy. Again, the rabbi called over the gabbai who moved everyone back a few more feet. As you probably guessed this happened again. At this point the congregants were crowded up against the back wall of the shul with no where to move. The rabbi didn’t know what to do and asked the Baal Shem Tov how he could make the shul less stuffy for him. Instead of answering the Baal Shem Tov asked if he could address the congregation, and of course, the rabbi invited him to do so.
“Chevra, friends, the room is stuffed, not with people. It’s stuffed with tefilos, with prayers, and with Torah study.” Seeing the quizzical looks on everyone’s face, he continued.
“There’s so much prayer, so much Torah study that takes place in here, but it’s all stuck. None of it ever leaves this room; they never reach G-d in Heaven.”
The Baal HaTanya beautifully explains that a Mitzvah on its own is a physical act, but what makes it spiritual is when it is infused with emotion. The two primary emotions, or the bookends of spiritual emotions are love and fear of G-d. Those emotions, he suggests are the wings of each Mitzvah. When performed with heart, our Mitzvos fly to the highest of heights. Without them, our Mitzvos are grounded, remaining a physical entity, and unable to reach their ultimate destination. And so, the room was stuffed, not with people, but with Mitzvos that were void of spirit, physical actions without wings.
I have been grappling with the challenge of defining spirituality. Is it Mitzvos or is it music? Is it study or sunsets?
The answer, it would seem, is that spirituality is made up of both music and mitzvos, moving sunsets and deep Torah study. Ultimately, Mitzvos are the most spiritual actions we can perform. We can touch the heavens here on earth through the good deeds that we perform. But to get there, to break free from the shackles of this physical world, to give our Mitzvos wings, we need to activate our emotional faculties. Our emotions live in the part of our soul that is more grounded to the physical world. The goal is to climb through our emotions up to the Miztvos, which reside on a higher plane. And when we bring them together, our spiritual life takes off.
This is why it’s important to develop taste in literature, in art, in music – because a refined and sophisticated appreciation for beauty helps make our Mitzvos even more majestic; they enable us to see the physical world with artistic eyes, eyes attuned to beauty. That is not a small thing. “Zeh Keli v’anveihu – this is my G-d and I will make His mitzvos beautiful,” was sung by the Jewish People as they crossed the sea.
This is why it’s important to develop deep self-awareness, because it allows us to bring our emotions, the good, the bad, and the ugly into our every deed. Those emotions are the window into our soul. “kol haneshama t’halel Kah – the entirety of the soul” – from bottom to top – “praises You”
And this is why, explains the Netziv, in this week’s Parsha, the Torah is referred to as a Song – “v’atah kisvu lachem es hashira hazos, write this song” understood by all to describe the Torah. G-d refers to the Torah as a song to remind us to not treat the Torah as prose. Don’t just read the words like an instruction manual. Read it like poetry.
When you read poetry, you listen for the rhythm, for the subtleties, for the space between the words, and for the space between the letters.
Torah observance is not about following a dry legalistic code. It is a life of fiery passion. It is a life of song. But it takes work. And with this definition in mind, I’d like to conclude by offering a few suggestions as to how we could live a more spiritual life. This is not an exhaustive list. These are ideas that have moved me and I hope they can move you as well.
1) Develop taste in the arts. Sensitize your ears and eyes to beauty. Not the obscene paintings and profane poetry. But to the beautiful world we live in. It will open your soul.
2) Spend some time with yourself. 5 minutes, that’s it. Just quiet. It’s not that easy but it’s also not that hard, and it is most definitely worth it. It could be while you walk, while you drive. Just listen to yourself. And get to know your soul.
3) The Chassidic rebbes were masters in demonstrating the song of the Torah. They would take a verse that meant one thing and breathe new and exhilarating life into it. Some go further and help us, in a more explicit way, understand the song of life itself. Dare I suggest that if you’re interested in a more elevated, more emotionally-driven Jewish lifestyle, find some Chassidus that speaks to you. There are English translations of the Nesivos Shalom, an extremely popular book on Chassidic thought. There are translations of the classic work, the Sefas Emes. There are podcasts – listen to Rav Moshe Weinberger from New York, or Rabbi Joey Rosenfeld, who will be joining me Wednesday night on Zoom. Or join us on Shabbos afternoon and study the highly poetic and soul-searing works of Rav Kook.
It might take a long time to find a teacher or book that could open your eyes to the music of Torah and the music of the soul. It took me a long time and every once in a while, I need to move on and find something or someone new. Whatever you do, don’t give up on the search. It’s completely worth the effort.
My final recommendation is music itself. There is certainly non-Jewish music that is spiritual. But I would recommend, in addition to whatever music you listen to, to find some Jewish music that speaks to you. Someone asked me the other day, where music ends, and prayer begins. It’s a good question and I think the answer gets to the core of what we’ve been discussing:
I’ve shared with some of you that I jog listening to Yishai Ribo or Chanan ben Ari. Sometimes I sing along as I run. But I’m not really singing along. I am praying. I am singing the soulful prayerful words of their music. So I don’t know where music ends and prayer begins – they merge and melt into one another – they are part of the continuum of our soul. It starts with our emotions and ends up in Heaven.
This is why music is the perfect analogy for spirituality. There are words and there is a tune, just like there are Mitzvos and there are emotions. It’s only when they come together that music is created.
So find some music that speaks to you and sing and pray and pray and sing; climb the rungs of your soul.
***
It’s the last Shabbos of this unbelievably trying year. I was speaking to someone the other day who told she hasn’t had the chance to listen to music. For me, it’s the exact opposite. I don’t know if I’d be standing here without music. It has allowed me, time and time again, to break through the fog of these times and lift myself up. Our hope and prayer for this year is that we leave these challenges behind us, but that song, music, soulfulness, and spirituality remain an integral part of our life. That the emotions that have been awakened within, never die down and that we appreciate the poetry of the Torah every day of our life.
by Motzen | Sep 8, 2020 | Sermons
(Part 1 can be found here: http://nertamid.net/sermons/defining-spirituality-a-journey-part-1/)
I remember the precise spot I was sitting. It was in Dutch Wonderland, I was watching a sleeping child while my wife took the kids on rides, and it just clicked. For many years I tried studying the thought of Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak Kook, for some reason, I could never really penetrate the meaning of his words. I would use translations and commentaries, nothing worked. Until one day it did. I wish I could explain why and how, but all of sudden, Rav Kook was speaking to me. And I can’t stop listening. The poetry, the depth, the novelty; there are passages I read that genuinely leave me breathless.
I wrote in the previous post how Rav Tzadok HaKohein confused me with his discussion of emotions; highs and lows, and how he saw them as a meaningful part of the religious experience. Rav Kook made things even more confusing. He not only described feelings as spiritual, he described all of the arts, literature, music, poetry, artwork as expressions of spirituality.
Where’s G-d? Where’s Mitzvos? Torah? How can a deeply devout Jewish thinker describe these things as spiritual?
So bear with me as we get a little Kabbalistic and describe what spirituality looks like according to Rav Kook:
The Kabbalists believe that there are three levels to the soul. Nefesh, Ruach, Neshama. If you want to think about it visually, you can imagine a great ladder that goes from you, or your soul, all the way up to G-d. Each of us are connected, through our soul, to Hashem. Now imagine that there are actually three ladders attached to one another. The first ladder, the one attached to your soul is called the Nefesh, it is the most physical of the ladders. Attached to that ladder, going higher, is one called Ruach. And attached to that ladder, going all the way to G-d, is a ladder called Neshama.
Says Rav Kook – or at least my understanding of him – when a person is moved by a sunset, by music, by an interaction, by anything at all, their soul climbs up the ladder and stands in the realm of Nefesh, the lowest part of that spiritual ladder. Another way to put it, is that the lowest part of their soul is awakened. That hard-to-define-feeling of being moved by something IS spiritual, but it is the lowest level of our soul that is being activated.
When a person does a Mitzvah, their soul climbs up to that middle part of the ladder – to that of Ruach, and that too is spiritual. However, one can skip rungs of that ladder. In other words, one can access the spirituality of Ruach without accessing the spirituality of Nefesh. And so, you can have people who do Mitzvos that are rote, lacking in any emotion or feeling.
The highest level, the ultimate goal is when we climb the ladder properly. When our soul is emotionally moved in the act of a Mitzvah then we reach the top and we experience the spirituality of the highest order, Neshama.
You still with me?
In other words, there is spirituality in those indescribable uplifting feelings we’ve all experienced. And there is spirituality in doing Mitzvot. One is a lower form of spirituality – that of the Nefesh and one is of a higher form – that of the Ruach.
Taking in the beauty of nature, being moved by a Rembrandt, or swept up in a powerful symphony, all of that is spiritual. And we are encouraged to deepen our appreciation for such things as they are the gateway to our soul. It’s a pity that the arts and literature do not get the attention they deserve in many of our Jewish communities.
At the turn of the 20th century, Rav Kook sent a letter to the founders of the Bezalel School of Art, encouraging them, as he saw in its establishment the flowering of the Jewish soul. Similarly, shaking a Lulav, laying Tefillin, or listening to the Shofar are also spiritual acts. They are after all, what G-d describes as the mediums through which we connect to Him. However, as we all know, sometimes they are lacking in emotion and feeling.
The goal then is to bridge the gap between them. In doing so we actualize every part of our soul and connect to G-d not only through the intellectual and holy act but through the entirety of our existence. “Kol hanehsama t’hallel Kah. My entire soul sings your praise.”
We’ll pull this all together in the next and final post.
