Mitzvah

We are sinful not merely because we have eaten of the Tree of Knowledge, but also because we have not yet eaten of the Tree of Life.”                         Franz Kafka

Mitzvah lies at the core of Judaism.  Mitzvah is our attitude to life; our interrelationship with all things animate and inanimate.  I do not think there is any more oft misunderstood concept than this.

Mitzvot are the hands of life.  Mitzvah is the way the Jew reaches out into the universe and understands it.  There are 613 different ways to express Mitzvah, each one a definite action.  Some examples:

YWe put on a Tallit, wrapping our torso in its fabric as we utter the blessing.

YNo one needy must be passed without doing tzedaka.  Some need money.    

   Some need food.  Many need a kind word.

YThe food that we eat must be balanced so that meat and dairy are not   

inadvertently mixed.  Meat is death.  Milk is life.  They are not to be   

consumed together.

YCandles must be lit as the sun sets every Shabbas to bring light and deep

   warmth into our home.

YThe sick must be healed.

YSlaves must be redeemed.

YJewish homes must have mezuzahs on their door.

The list moves on.  Each mitzvah is a commandment to use our hands. 

If Mitzvah represents our hands, then learning is our heart.  The two need work in tandem with one another.  When our knowledge does not increase, our capacity to learn and retain knowledge diminishes.  The brain is a muscle that needs a good workout often.  Yet, knowledge without action is like preparing a meal and never tasting it.  That is why Mitzvah is such a critical concept.  Just as I opined that the brain must be exercised, so too we expand our physical horizons with movement forward. Is there anything worse than hearing the comment, “I’d never do that?”  Or, “that’s for fanatics?” Or, “I tried that and it doesn’t work?”  Without expanding the movement of our hands (read: Mitzvah) we fall pray to atrophy of action.  We begin to make comments like those.

With both the heart and hands moving in unison, we fully grasp life.

Change, continued

In my last article  I introduced the idea of Hesbon HaNefesh as a soulful inventory.  We are supposed to do this Heshbon each year prior to the High Holy Days.  They become the catalyst that undergirds our time with God.  Allow me to explain.

Let’s start with the desert.  A desert is a midbar in Hebrew.  The midbar is where our ancestors spent most of their time after Egypt.  This midbar is not a physical place it is a mindful space.  When we are lost we are in a midbar.  When we wander in life looking for satisfaction but gaining none we are in the midbar.  When we feel distant, alienated from God we are in a midbar.  Is it any surprise that the generation that was saved from Pharaoh wandered in a midbar for forty years?  Most people do the same today!

Every Hebrew word has a root meaning.  In the case of midbar, the root is davar, thing.  In other words, the midbar is tangible to those who are in it.  It is as real as life.  In our quest for meaning the midbar is an arid wasteland where time is spent.  To much time.

Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz has written about the danger of living in such a place.  “For it is a spiritual disquiet, much more than a guilty feeling, that makes us feel the urge to take a look back.  Indeed, we feel we are no longer the right person in the right place, we feel we are becoming outsiders in a world whose scheme of things escapes us.”

The Torah’s response to the midbar is an accounting.  We have a whole book of the Torah devoted to this notion.  It is called Numbers.   

Accountings are made time and again to show future generations that the antidote to the midbar is Heshbon HaNefesh, an accounting of the soul.  We cease wandering when we know our goal, the destination.  Life is no longer random.  It has meaning.  Our lives resonate with that newfound meaning.

How does one make such an inventory?

We begin with a piece of paper and pen.  On them we write:

I wish I could be different by………………

I’d like to make a difference in the world by………………

In this next year I will…………………….

I will no longer………………….

This is the start of the soulful inventory that takes us out of the midbar revealing us to ourselves.  We stop being fearful and evasive when we know that the real us has been in hiding and it is safe to come out.   This is the chance offered to us as the holy days beckon.

Change

Time reminds us to circle back.   Each passing year brings us the same occasions- birthdays, holy days, anniversaries.  In fact the Hebrew word for year, shana, means to repeat.  I guess you could translate the words, shana tova to mean, “have a good “repeat” this time around.”

As we draw close to the New Year our tradition asks that we revisit an old familiar place, our history, and with good intention and enough willpower, have a better “repeat.”

The Sages knew the value of exploring the past.  They use a passage in the Torah to help illustrate.  Abraham digs wells and names them.  His son, Isaac, repeats the same process.  What we are to learn from this is that each of us needs to explore our roots by delving into them in a process that successive generations have performed.  It does not matter that we are doing what has been done before.  By digging our own wells we continually uncover new truths and a powerful means to rise above what we have been.  We are not yet who we can be.

Heshbon HaNefesh is the process of making a personal inventory of where we have traveled, who we have become.  In Recovery programs this is fourth step along the path to wholeness.  For many this is the most vexing step because it involves looking at an unvarnished picture of ourselves.  It involves answering questions like, Who have I hurt?  How have I settled for less than I could have given?  Have I practiced what I have preached to others?  Do I like what I have done?

In the thirteenth century a Spaniard, Raimon Lull, pursued a woman and attempted to woo her.  After many years, Lull finally succeeded in arranging a secret rendezvous.

Silently she revealed a body wracked by cancer.  Raimon Lull’s life changed.  Turning from his life’s course, he became an eminent theologian.

While illustrative of how change happens, Raimon Lull was only able to chart a new life for himself because he asked himself to face the meaning of his actions.  This was not the easy path but it was the one that led him to realize his potential and self-worth.

Ellul, this month, is when we are directed to practice Heshbon HaNefesh.  What an inventory allows us to do is make a fresh start.  In our siddur is a quote from Martin Buber, “You cannot find redemption until you see the flaws in your own soul.”  All change starts with seeing a real reflection of our self, flaws included.

The Talmud teaches us in its pithy fashion, “Blessing is found only in a thing hidden from the eye.”  Change is not easy; it requires great courage; but it yields profound blessing and it all begins when we circle back to the beginning and are fearless in looking at who we have become.

Get ready for Ellul is here.

Who may ascent the mountain of the Lord?

Who may stand in His holy abode?

One who has clean hands and a pure heart. (Psalms 24)

Length of Days

It was ordained that no one should live beyond 120 years.  That number represents the outer boundaries of human life.  Moshe rabbenu died when he was that age.  For this reason, Jews have often said as a blessing to one another, “May you live to 120!”

It seems that staying alive is an art: eat the right foods, do the right exercise, take the correct vitamins and you may be rewarded with longevity.  It is usually a blessing to live a long life, although it is not always.    The Jewish approach to life is one of quality not quantity.  What good does innumerable years of misery amount to?  The only positive part about such a long life is that it gives us ample opportunity to “get it together.”

Here is an authentic Jewish approach to meaningful years:

Rabbi Hannina said, “Much have I learned from my teachers, more from my friends, and yet more from my students.”   -Talmud, Taanit 7a

Events are teachers.  Failures are teachers.  Successes are teachers.  And students are teachers…only if we are paying attention.

Meaningful living is connected with growth.   Through the millennia we have hoisted the idea that learning ennobles the soul and enriches life.  It lends quality to our years.  There is an old adage, “the more things change the more they remain the same.”   What a terrible statement about life.  While it is true that human nature may remain the same we do not have to accept that for ourselves.   We do not have to sop growing just because we pass out of teenage years.  As David’s poem goes, “even in old age they shall bring forth fruit.”  -Psalm 92 

Growth can be ongoing.  And each time we gain wisdom our universe glows a bit brighter.  Life looms larger.  The colors of the world become invested with greater vibrancy.  And length of pales beside the quality of each moment lived.

When Rabbi Noach assumed the rabbinical post from his father, Rabbi Mordecai, his followers noticed subtle changes in the way he did things.  His ways were unlike his father.  The disciples gather and asked why he was conducting himself so differently.  He answered, “I do just as my father did.  Just as he did not imitate, so I do not imitate.”

A life that matters comes from an open heart and an open mind.   Open them to Torah.