The king looked back over the arch of earth that had received the full brunt of his determination. The tract was not razed, as he had done to this place those years ago, but reborn, and indifferent to his decisions. The land, he sighed, is free from regret. The only life those memories had for him, existed in the pressured insides of his person, haunting him, and curtailing the gate of his youthful ambition with uneasy short windedness.

Like the letters composed, his blood maniacal with passion for their recipient, but never sent, the parchments’ content, unbridled sentimentality, shelved, unable to bear the depth another’s view may have proffered. So they lingered in his mind, these erratic vignettes, like the ageless visage of his queen, in her radiance, lost to him before their skin fell, before the matter of their pleasures faded.

How can I get old? You just do, he thought to himself, the emptied glass drained in alarm, it’s lead crystal ringing, reckoning for him, that history is the slow degradation of the king’s reign.

Under warm blanket of earth, heavy set with the advance of ages, the small shard of bone, sole remnant of one line over generations, unknown, except to the Host, who waited for the soul’s shiver.  Vibrating slow at first, then a hum, muted in shattering clay. The frequencies elevated, the land encasing it, like a brittle vessel, fractured, and broke up, under the weight of the new world, dividing into a new mass from one stone. Flash, sudden like lightning, the cell burned bright, buried in a stone, an awareness, the touch arriving; suddenly, the timeless pitch becoming black in memory, except for the vision of the lone Oak on a hillock.

The pearl of this being, a man, that portion removed at the humanoid’s primal circumcision. Cast asunder desiring redemption, the grand respite from the dust, praying that all he handles shouldn’t fade, vanish from his grasp. The pearl, became engulfed with illumination, as nebulae hovering, consuming the flow of fuel, until the soul, engorged with fiery white tendrils, marked in black ink border, the Name’s presence drawing the defining wax on his fresh bones, exhaling an effortless fathoming, the deep, into a wanting breath. 

The sprouted limbs, climbing, serpentine, as the Kraken’s arms unwound, into graceful tone and presence, before the bolt to consume. He is voiceless with a desperation to escape, suffocating, the dust of millennia choking reborn lungs, but, as on cue, absorbed along with vanishing fears, into the marrow of his bones. A pulse, the measure of his circuit, runs blood red through arterial highways, into sinews, cartilage, cells, speech, rivers unfurling. He is arrived into the land, these lands become born from him. He now lays  fully outright, whole being, sentient. The light of his knowing hovering over the great sea, concealed from the mundane.

Feh-Yaruk, the First Shoot, becoming Salohm, the Evergreen, First King. The long stride running on  planet’s curve, first to rise. As the primary, only he knew the Pearl’s habitation of Aedrom, the First of Many,  leaper from the dark. Now this residing in Salohm, the eighth son of a son, would usher in the Great Kingdom.
He understood that the world was to be united; the branches into one trunk, one glory, the residence of the Setting, The One Name. Crowned as Host of the Champion, ruler over humanity and giver of stations.

The new lord now stood, a bud, copper hair spilled over pale Brindled skin, made vivid with an electric blue halo, scarcely visible which his form emitted, more like a trick on the eye, a curl of color twisted into a lens. Copper green eyes looked forward, peppered with splotches of bronze, polished brass golds, so that, when close, his pupils were obscured enough to hide his focus.

The world entered him, as though he lay new born from the womb, breaking through the rot and soil, the tissue and blood. The Royal, given into splendor and mystery, basking in original light. The expanse unhindered until the horizon claimed the yawning breadth of lushness, lover with a gentle kiss.  He heard a voice suddenly, it was her, the sound of his visions. She said, “kiss me opened mouth, but leave your tongue hidden.” He stood, lost in thought, the moments passing, and he thought of the voice, so clear in his head, as though the creature were next to him. But there were no others present.

Desire came, understanding, declaring the midnight sky’s zenith. He noted the untold myriads, and he knew, just as the world was, so was he. Many components, one will. The sky, the sea, the land, the wind. Then fire, and speech, arrived in the sphere of his knowing, the angles  of his discovery reaching out for the unification of all knowing.

The soul, newly lit, told the man, “this is the ‘Great War,’ lines break and greater numbers of angles born.”

He opened his hand, the fingers, a palm. Stretched his legs, his body radiant, obscured in an array of subtle lighting effects, which, had there been an observer would have noted, hid his nudity. He breathed deep, repeatedly and hollered. The awkwardness vanishing from him quickly, as a fawn in a field.

Then he ran, against the force of the sky, wind drafting in his ears. There are many things, he thought, but one will. He remembered the dream, which had been a vision. A lone Oak on a hill, its form silhouetted against a pale, cloud dimmed sky. The branches reaching out into the expanse. In the vision he ran, his perspective leaving his body, rising, he was flying, and he saw beasts soaring over the land, through obscured skies, in flight, moving toward something. He knew nothing of his space on the map, but they were going to the tree, and he sensed dread. Then, he sensed her touch. A caress that began just below the crest of his cheek bone, grazing tenderly the rosy smoothness of his new skin, until landing at the collar bone. Feh Yaruk turned suddenly, but saw nothing.

The sun was setting, and he knew the cold would arrive. The feeling of the sea, of falling waters, of longing for home. But his mind could not process what home was, only that he desired to see the place in which the tree stood. To feel that touching again. He could sense her embrace. He heard nothing, but his own heartbeat, and fear crept into him, of isolation, but he awoke in morning from sleep, the coals smoldering from the previous night’s fire.

He found the horse, waiting for him. There were many horses, but this one waited. The shadows asked why, but Feh Yaruk ignored them, he led the animal, rode it, and the beast shouldered his new burden. He rode from the black soil to red clay, and until red clay became white sand, the waters roiling at shore, spread out into fiery blues under the sun, and his mind recalled the beloved, knew the voice, he knew a queen waited for him. 

Feh Yaruk came up over the white sand dune, bathed in sun and water mist. His mare shone brightly under the sun’s glow, its fur a deep red and tautly rippled with muscle. From this memory of their young king, the turquoise and silver banner came, with blood red script.

This human, seeing the horizon encircled him deduced from the depth of the sky, the depth of his sphere, and knew despite the two dimensions of his Heavens that that the detailed pleasure of this world  continues at an unexhausted pace across the her modestly hidden expanse.

Pace quickened, time rapped beats out as horse hooves thud over space. The land was his until the horse trod in sand, and the slushing sound of that friction became metallic sounding, the man’s skin grew warm. He saw the earth contorting, almost as though it were breathing, and unsettled, he stopped the beast and dismounted. He was sick, with nothing to expel, he had not known to eat, and strained to breath. The overwhelming twist of the Earth’s spin gathered torque , until all the force of gravity’s hand was taut on him. and concentrated it’s point upon his head, twisting into the sights of his eyes, and the reality entered him, violently.

A static kind of sound clanked in his head, as though sound were a kind of entity which could be stretched. The sights too. Great beams of sunshine battered through the grainy clouds. The light was pulsing, then warped, rose out, toward him as a wave, passing through him, as though he were absent.

He was frightened. A pressure built up in him, he desired to call out, his needing, but feared the true isolation of his being, and now this descent into some place, where he knew himself to be bound up, without capacity to express himself, but still living. He became horror stricken and recalled all the good he had wakened to and feared it lost, in a moment. The fear of Insanity peaked and he thought to cut at his neck.

“Aedrom?”

The voice was distinct, and he noticed all else was silent. The crushing static had vanished, as had his remorse. The thought of being lost was gone. He saw no one, even the landscape slipped into the periphery.

“I am here, but I am Feh Yaruk.” he replied.

“Have you asked for Me?”

“Yes.”

“I have heard nothing, I know only Aedrom’s whimper.”

“But I -”

“Quiet. This is what is what you know. There are many paths but only one will.”

These lands are for you and those that follow, One Name told him, and then revealed the arch of the Cosmos. These, the King’s lands, a fragment of the world’s parchment, yet laid with history.

When Feh Yaruk rose again, he no longer remembered the other generations before him. Only he stood after the First of fathers, Aedrom, who was myth now. Feh Yaruk knew the tradition, and so he traveled, and sought the lands of the Others.

Acher the Sun Burnt, looked at the stars, and knew the sun was opposite their position. The young king had chosen midnight, as had the prior. The bloom, his dark silhouette, blacker than the night’s pitch. The horses kicked at the clay earth, the sound of its hooves thudding.

Acher came from the high stone lands, beyond the ridge, and was a stranger. But this stranger spoke the king’s tongue, the language of the land, and another language, claimed to have learned in the south, a year’s journey. He had mapped the travels, but time had eroded the skin of the land, it had aged.

He had waited, his knowledge of the pearl such, that the years and days were his. He had killed the woman this new king sought, shaving the crown of her bone, so she was Ghoa Sta, a spirit never landing, and would cling to her living man the whole of his days.

Acher had cut the crown of the Oak, and built his bed from it’s ancient grain. He could no longer count the generations of waiting, for the Queen to be exposed, to be forgotten, momentarily, and the chain disengaged. But now, successful in his patience, Acher stood, with his remnant, across the small ravine, and waited on the green bud to die from sorrow.

In parshas Behar, which introduces the concept of the shemittah year and of the yovel year, our Rebbe, shlit’a, teaches in the name of the Shem m’Shmuel, z’t’l, who teaches in the name of his holy father, the Avney Ezer, z’t’l, that a person, to draw the Abishter’s presence near themselves, must be pure in all their 248 limbs, corresponding to the positive precepts. (Why not mention the other quantity, 365? This corresponding to the negative commandments and to the days of the year? The individual may not proceed toward the purity derived from the 248 without first establishing the 365. This nuanced consideration resembles the vort I heard from Rebbe, shlit’a, regarding the dynamic of ‘mishmar.’ The status of being in the state of ‘mishmar,’ is m’ahava, cleaving to and fearing HaShem from a state of great love, rather than from the fear of punishment. A person exercises stringencies, builds fences, to maintain the negative commandments, but this alone will not endow him with an interior elevation, only the capacity for this realization. The 248 positive mitzvos are less than the 365 yet there proper performance comes from love for the Abishter, receiving and returning His “great love,” so that the performer of such acts is k’banim, like His children, who wish to please their parents because of a love and awe for their presence rather than only k’avodim, His servants, whom, like employees, simply want to act according to their reward. Obviously, either is a tremendous blessing and a person must fulfill both dynamics, just as His name is One and He is One. Nonetheless, the light is light and the dark is dark. Though there exists only this One thing, the tov must be sholet the ra.)

If even one limb is lacking this completeness, the vessel contains a contamination and the Shechina is unable to rest on him, G-d forbid! The capacity to receive kedusha as a tzaddik is concealed. This creates a dilemma –similar to my dilemma regarding the first possuk of Tehillim, who is, and can be, the Ashrey, for Koheles 7:20,  teaches, “there is no tzaddik that does only good and never errs.” If this is so, how does Israel merit to receive the Torah in each generation and the blessings and presence of HaShem that such closeness brings? How does a tzaddik reveal himself?

I have heard this, what Rebbe calls, THE secret of life (per our many discussions and the definition of our world being haphooch, what is truly secret does not hide, it is simply not sought after, as the verses in Mishlei state, 26:13, “the slothful say, “there is a lion in the way; a lion is in the streets,” and 22:13, “the lazy say, “there is a lion outside; I will be murdered in the middle of the street.”):

The kernel of the Baal Shem Tov’s, z’t’k’l, teaching, is that the love of Beni Yisrael elevates a person so that  they see no flaws in the nation, Israel is perfect in their eyes, and when they are elevated as such, our shortcomings are hidden in the merit of the nation and love flows out towards our fellow Jews as the Abishter’s love flows out to each and every one of us. This then, just as the holy Tomer Devorah teaches, is the tzaddik revealed and redeemed on the personal level, the holiness of the nation imbuing him with tziddkus as his merits imbue the nation with gadlus, for the whole of the tree is contained within the seed and, as though engaged in a kiss, our eyes shut, do we say, Shema Yisrael, HaShem Elokeinu, HaShem echad. And further, HaShem is One and His name is One.

This and other sections may be inferred from the loshon of parshas Kedoshim, where the language is ‘lechem,’ plural, versus parshas Yisro, where the language is, ‘lecha,’ singular: the blemish of the chet haegel displaced the yachid, the individual, and we were almost lost, G-d forbid, when suddenly the merit of Moshe rebbenu’s love for us revealed the holiness of our nationhood, so that we exist today in a state of grace as a perfect nation comprised of flawed individuals involved in rectifying ourselves through Torah learning, mitzvos, and teshuva. This connects us to the somber reality of parsha v’Eschanan. Imagine, had we, as a nation, prayed for Moshe at the time of his pleading with HaShem, that he be allowed to enter Israel with us, what could have been? For his prayers, that of one man, were sufficient to redeem a nation, but the nation was quiet when one man needed our prayers. We see also, with the example of Hannah, how the prayers of one woman delivered Shmuel, who brought forth Dovid.

We are still left with questions. First we know, as may be inferred and as I received from Rebbe, that a person may be m’sakeyn the world from ‘fixing’ even the smallest flaw in himself. It is only the nature of appearances that create in humanity a desire for large actions which ‘confirm’ through visualization, change, so that we take a simple task and complicate it, as Koheles states, 7:29. “…G-d has made the Adam yashar but they seek out many intrigues.” But what is our motivation?

All is in the proverbial cusp of the Abishter’s grasp and ben Adam is enjoined to not complete the task but only to toil in it, Avos 2:21, “he used to say: It is not incumbent upon you to complete the task; and you are not free to desist from it.” The bechor, the first fruits, the moment that has arrived, per the Toldos Yaakov Yosef, as learnt out with Rabbi Gedaliah Jaffe, shlit’a, this we offer to HaShem, with our efforts.

A person may see the linear quality of his life as one thing and his status as inert, not changing, for he doesn’t perceive the actual growth except over great lengths of time. But the holy author of Tehillim states, 118:24, “this is the day, haYom, the Abishter made, delight and rejoice in it.” What is the meaning of this day, yom, this moment?

We recite in our prayers, the Abishter is renewing creation moment to moment so that His presence is felt and known, and only this interior reality exists. Rabbi Yom Tov Glazer, shlit’a, states, HaShem does not recreate the past, nor is there a future! This resolves the difficult question of free will and HaShem’s “knowing,” though the answer itself is hard enough to comprehend for it is counter our intuition that the past was real and the future is coming. Of course we perceive the worlds as being linear because they exist for our sake and the expanse is such that we cannot experience the borders of reality, like chasing the horizon, where no ground is ever made, so that the moment extends into the perceived past and into the imagined future. But who can grasp the worlds and say this is this or that is that, I know this to be such and such? What the genius says today is refined tomorrow, then made obsolete, and the generations come and go until there is neither consideration or memory of that which preceded.

The Mishna in Avos, 5:7, never once states that the wise person is smart, intelligent, bright, or talented. Instead, Tehillim 19:8 teaches us, HaShem’s Torah fills the simpleton, the humble empty vessel, with wisdom. Where you find these seven traits, there you will find wisdom – go seek it out!

All the created things merge as branches receding into the trunk that is inside of this moment, this day, haYom, this point of time my friend, Rabbi Benyamin ha Cohen H., shlit’a, calls the liminality: An infinite contained within the finite and as this author understands, the “black fire over white fire” of the holy R’M’B’M’s, z’t’k’l, statement in the introduction to his holy commentary on our Torah.

The thing, which is in the heart and mouth to do, this moment, seemingly connected to all other moments, here you find the shoresh, the root of the individual wherein lies your name, our Source.

Generally it would be hard to derive a halachic position from fiction since it is the nature of story telling to skip over the tedious details that make up most of our lives and instead focus on particularly engaging, heroic sized events or actions, problems, and relatively immediate solutions and the like, in a moment close knit with all of the substantial details conveniently included. Like cherry picking on the basketball court, the conditions are set up for a solution and, honestly, that is a part of great writing. In reality, life actuates slowly with innumerable dynamics at play and nearly infinite variables manifesting their influences, and the results of our decisions can scarcely be measured against what we left behind. There is no resolution like the kind story writing affords. We are simply bound by halacha and emunah, bitachon, for clarity.

In Parshas Shemini, 10:3, the possuk states, just after Aharon’s two sons were consumed with their incorrect offerings, “And Moshe said to Aharon: He spoke this, G-d, saying, “By those close to Me am I sanctified and before the face of all my people I will be honored (glorified). And Aharon was silent.”

Here, Moshe is rebuking his brother, Aharon who had just witnessed his sons consumed by Divine fire and made a lesson for all of Israel, but rather than cry out or complain, he was silent. Because of this silence, Aharon merited to receive directly from G-d a parsha  of the Torah and Ch”Z”L state, as this author learned out from Rabbi Mordecai Miller, z’t’k’l, that this teaches us, one who is silent before their teacher’s rebuke or instruction merits to become a decisor of law for Israel, a posek.

By Moshe, the possuk in BaMidbar, 12:3, states, “The man, Moshe, was incredibly humble, from among all of the humans dwelling on the Earth.” He stood apart from every other person in his humility.

In the Mishnah of Pirke Avos, 1:12, the Ch”Z”L state, be as a “student” of Aharon, love shalom, PURSUE shalom, loving people and bringing them closer to Torah, which is instruction, light, and ultimately, life.

The world is defined by halacha, and as with all other matters, there is a general, practical application, which is halacha l’maaseh, and a specific application which is how a matter, within normative halacha, is defined, including the words we use.

Often, we are not “humbled,” when caught suddenly in err, rather, we are rebuked, having spoken generally and incorrectly regarding a particular halacha, though no need for an actual halacha l’maaseh was warranted anyway, instead we had indulged in speculative reasoning full of over ripe confidence and unbridled waxing of opinions over matters measured to most exacting degrees through often dire environments by our greatest masters. In the Chovos HaLevovos, the holy author states that the generations of the Mishna and Gemara did not speculate over halacha but instead spent the majority of their time pursuing the refinement of their characters and only convened to poskin when questions unknown at the time came forth. They would then decide, following the majority view, in order to return to the quiet introspection Torahdic meditation offers.

We confuse rebuke with humility, failing to realize humility is the character trait that would keep a person from voicing an opinion on a halachic matter, or any matter really, without the proper source and permission granted through transmission. Accepting the rebuke and learning may become or increase humility, as it is an act of pursuing shalom (not resorting to defensiveness, contrarian characteristics) and, as it says in Brachos 64a, “Torah scholars increase Shalom in this world.”  Therefore we can see, through the relationship of Moshe and Aharon, how humility, silence, and shalom lead to each other, and ultimately, to a state of halachic clarity which allows the individual to make new decisions on the law or uncover novel interpretations from the verses, words, and letters, all of which strengthen the forces of redemption.

It is good to have a chavrusa and a reliable teacher, influences whom demonstrate the seven characteristics of the Mishna in Avos, 5:7, to ensure an accurate transmission of our Torah heritage. Ironically, today, many people have teachers, or rabbaim they go to for pastoral advice when a thorough halachic understanding of the world enables one to know their own derech, their own path, which is why we call it the “halacha,” the way. Firmly girded in this knowing strengthens resolve and faith and enables the growth our souls seeks out, as the psalmist states in Tehillim, 19:8, “HaShem’s Torah is perfect, the soul’s setting. HaShem’s testimony is ever faithful, endowing the empty simpleton with wisdom.”

Success with your learning and keep humble, for humility crafts the vessel necessary to be receptive, to be m’kabel.

Raba emunasecha!

Hashem has tremendous faith in us!

The most difficult inyanim are couched in the simplest language. As stated, the nations of the world concoct great labyrinths to hide their treasure, but HaShem has placed the most cherished of possessions in the open, because no-one thinks to look there.

How often have we heard “the m’kublim state this,” or “the kabbala states this,” from speakers with confidence,  who, if asked, would feign humility  regarding their own kabbala.

We know Moshe rabbenu was m’kabel, for it states ‘moshe kebel Torah m’sinai’ and his Torah states Bereshis bara El-okim es haShemayim v’es haAretz. When pressed as an olive, Rebbe Akiva, the sole sage to return unharmed from PARDES, states “v’ahavta lerecha camocha, zeh klal gadol b’Torah.” 

These two giants of our mesorah, lahvdil ben kodesh v’kodesh, do not speak in esoteric terms regarding concepts which, by the nature of their concealment in light lack any form or distinction, but instead, only in the practical application of G-dliness present in the most mundane of actions. Their words are full of praise and awe, resulting from humility and yirah.

Rabbi Chaim Zimmerman, z’t’l, stated a person who considers the esoteric  studies of the Torah as ‘mystical’ should have a din of apikorsus against him. If so, we can understand why our holy sages never utilized these teachings as lessons and left them as riddles and mushels, as the prophet teaches in Mishlei so that one who is knowing could affirm his understanding without the need for literal instruction. Does a newly married couple require their teachers to oversee the love between these two newly weds manifest? Of course not and the language of reception is like the love between a man and woman, legally bound in matrimony, hidden from the eyes of the public. For this reason we do not poskin ‘al p’ kabbala’ for the kabbala requires the halacha for revelation.

The Sun sets over tree lined hills.

Myriad branches,

tree silhouettes, extending

into pale dusk words,

pull and tug the form

and grace,

with shape and substance, the

remaining.

How does one fulfill it, allowing the faithful brides, these praiseworthy women,  few among the many, a relationship to the entirety of His station?

Torah is light influencing Israel to see, the instruction, that we may learn to do. The capacity to define, the form of the fruit, making clear the parameters of our existence and revealing order buried in the randomness.

See us, Your holy loves, rich in anticipation and loyalty.

From a unique perch humanity peers out, swaddled in the blanket of His consideration and nothing more. The high heat of the insatiable bor, pit, wherein you will find no water!  Yet we, the invisible, borne on wings of great eagles, our vulnerability drawn out from a great sea of sorrows (Mitzrayim), we are brought forth into life, into the shelter (sukkah) of His portion, so that He may be our G-d.

You were chosen, permitted, and ran from your bounty afraid of this redemption.

That lost love and our pining, stark, until the origin is nearly questioned, and soon, when our hunger has almost captured us, returned, these mouths full of laughter.

Many years past while residing in the land of Israel this bachur attended a Shabbos at a settlement in the Negev. The host was a dorm neighbor and he mentioned we would be taking a walk after the night seudah. A special atmosphere permeated the conjoined trailers which were his home and after the singing and bentsching we commenced on a stroll around the perimeter. Cool, crisp air marked the habitat as desert and breathability was remarkably easy. At just a few moments before midnight he motioned that we should rest in this area and he lay down on the rocky soil, placing his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. Before settling he motioned to follow his lead and I did.

After a couple of moments spent wondering curiously, a metallic clanking sound traveled across the plain we habited and my eyes opened to ascertain the cause. the generator had shut and the lights had ceased so nothing entered the pupils and he told me the lights had gone off. Shortly our sight adjusted and no mention of why we were here was necessary.

Before me lay an expanse of sky unfettered by the pressing walls of man-made light and the crown of the universe, like a kiddush cup with wine raised above its rim, shone in creamy pale brushstrokes, frothy with innumerable stars and galaxies. The crisp articulation, despite the interminable minions of light, caused a shortness of breath and a racing heart. This was something more than a country night for not one portion of the space lacked a projection and hues which abounded included pinks, blues, oranges, and the white light of gravitational fire. the ribbon of a milky way arm was more like a signature than an implication with rivers of light coursing through it’s length. Seas and bays formed between the space and glimmer and the sky resembled more the interior of the brain than a vast space of dark and lit matter.

When Edmund hillary and Tenzing Norgay reached everest’s peak on May 29th 1953 who, but they, could imagine the expanse of cold dry sky and snow laden land that met their eyes? Coupled with the arduous and dangerous nature of the journey just completed for the first time even among the remains of those who previously failed (It was the custom until recently to leave the dead where they lay on the trail, frozen for the ages.) they would not be accused of exaggerating if they described this sight as awesome.

Our recent century also revealed the view of our planet’s curve from space seen for the first time by traveler’s outside the earth’s atmosphere setting a new standard for awe inspiring visages. In truth many sights afford even the slightly adventurous an opportunity to glimpse into the magnificence of the Abishter’s handiwork. The grand canyon, coral reefs, many places and may different observers may claim any number of destinations.

But for the astute even these seem hyperbole and a person could feel driven towards teshuva for thinking in a fleeting moment of sensorial pleasure the rush of waters from Niagara achieved the status of awesome. A maaseh is told regarding R. Ch. P. Scheinberg shlit’a of Yerushalayim, the holy city. That a talmid once entreated him, while visiting the United States to make a trip and see the Niagara Falls. One time he consented and upon arriving he rolled down his window and saw what the student desired he see. He was mildly impressed. When telling this story a Shabbos guest ventures to state an insensitivity to nature’s wonders could dull the heart to Hashem’s capacities. Of course this is correct but as with all dynamics a sublime, comprehensive dynamic exists where in the object is measured against its source. In the Halacha we see that a child may only contradict the parent in matters where the parent is against Halacha for they, the parents, are the child’s material source, and the debt is almost unlimited. So too with the awesomeness of our world, they only tell of the Abishter’s awesomeness, they only relate to us a clue of Hashem’s sovereignty. However as we relate in the psukei d zimre, ‘in our lowliness remember us’ it is necessary for most among us to see and discern the wonders of His works which are readily available to us so announcing a breathtaking view as awesome may be appropriate. But that is not really what has happened.

Instead, and maybe you’ve experienced this, everyday items are described as awesome.

You did well on your homework, ‘awesome.’

Your neighbors sports car is, ‘awesome.’

This dinner was ‘awesome.’

Awesome, which does not denote good or bad, but awe inducing capacity, a mixture of fear, respect, etc. has been made common place in our language. Argue against this and your limiting the speaker’s self expression. But a word such as awesome, once it is contained in a smaller vessel, how may it break out again? As with the Adam after eating the fruit, how were they to go back to the garden now that it had been limited by an opinion?

Our Ch’Z’L’ teach us that even the expanse of the known universe is to HaShem no more than the gnat in effort needed to form. Because of this understanding we may sink into the word translated as awesome a powerful message. The Abishter is declared in our prayers as having the attribute of AWESOMEness. We understand from Ch’Z’L’ that din, really comes from the self, midda k’neged midda, when matched against the Emes of HaShem. Our personal definitions of the world Hashem gives us shine out onto the reality of His will and the gap between a person’s humility, i.e., in recognizing Hashem as being AWESOME and the smallishness of his opinion is suddenly open to him and when managed properly, the holy Yid may be m’ chadesh Torah from his own qabbala. When we, G-d forbid, limit our sensitivity with opinions and see ‘awesomeness’ as less than what it is the human awakens to the dark limitations of a natural human scope and invites the failures littering history on the back of good ideas. This distinction reveals itself sublimely but most acutely with Shabbos kodesh.

While the Torah teaches us Hashem completed the creation and was m’kadesh Shabbos kodesh, nowhere does the text say Adam entered that great Shabbos. Shabbos is the first of thought the last in action. Its quality of kolleles assures that Her ways are forever secret, available only to humble servants (B’nay Yisroel). It is the echo in our world of Olam haBa, the arrival of eternity. Yet often we hear a person ask or, we ask ourselves, ‘when is Shabbos over?’ Shabbos ends? Lord have mercy.

The loshon used for the departure of the Shabbos from our realm is ‘Motzi Shabbos,’ Shabbos exits. This is not a semantical distinction. All the words of Ch’Z’L’ may be read infinitely deep when understood accurately. They were not writers choosing words for an emotional effect or as scientists setting opinions down and seeking proofs. Each of their novel expressions, though unique to the individual, link to a point of light derived from the well of Torah and establishes an eternal effect on our reality as it states, ‘lo b’Shamayim Hee.’ A dynamic which insists, contrary to reactionary thinking, that beis Hillel and beis Shammai never really disagreed. Often this relationship is used as an example of how contrarian thinkers could still get along. But this is not accurate. An argument which is for the sake of Heaven is not two people agreeing to disagree but an affectation of humility where the burden is on each party to resolve the other’s contradiction with his own thinking lest, by ‘disagreeing’ he limit the Torah whose borders may not be fathomed except as halacha lamaaseh, within which there is no end to the Light which shines forth – a raw paradox itself demanding humility.

The Torah exists without limit within normative Halacha. Opinion’s limit this expansiveness with the failure to observe that what is beyond the Horizon may not be enumerated. What differed between Hillel and Shammai was their expression of the one Torah. The Abishter gives to each person a unique gift of singularity. His freedom is not curtailed in anyway, despite obvious limitations. As described by R. Benyamin Heuben HaCohen shlit’a, the human exists as a liminality, an infinity within a finite body. So the view of Hillel is considered best for us practically, but the view of Shammai is not contrarian, except as practical Halacha.

In our world of opinions this is not the case. It is common to see the sefer Torah carried around the congregation, baruch Hashem after all these millennia we Yidden love the Torah. Yet  perhaps it is  little known that the Halacha forbids a person from lowering the Torah to be kissed by a child, that we do not lower the Torah to the child, we elevate the child to Torah. Suddenly a rush of opinions, ‘but today is different’ or ‘but if we don’t do it this way the child will not learn.’ Etc. as though emotions are new and Ch’Z’L’ did not understand what they intended. Like it was just their opinion……

The Ch’Z’L’’s words were linked to the eternal meaning of the Torah, which means they are relevant forever. This is the difficulty of accepting that the words of Ch’Z’L’ have a quality of infallibility for many contemporary minds, even observant minds. Yet it is true. What is not understood, what is missed is the Ch’Z’L’, concern themselves with the interior reality of meaning which has no limitation, rather than a definitive infallibility which limits progress, and in  focusing as such they acquire the fluidity of light which fills a space and defines the world it illuminates. It is incumbent on us to match, as fluidly as possible, their humility in order to grasp what they are actually saying.

All the world is only an exhalation of dust and spirit for the holy Yid to shape and form according to a merger of G-d’s will and humanity’s unique dynamic. As with the Heaven and Earth, or the Menorah’s hanacha and Light, one element is always changing, the other is eternally constant. The realm of human opinion involves confirming constant status on a transient reality. Ch’Z’L’ is never expressing opinions but revealing deeper and further illumination in the dark world by holding themselves and us today up to the Light of the ages. Each sage, a vessel crafted and fulfilled in His image and likeness also expresses, utilizing the accompanying free will, unique insights into the Abishter’s Torah and to this we must submit to be ‘m’chadash’ what was meant by limited statements as the Malbim, z’t’k’l’ states regarding the opening phrases of Mishlei.

But so many insist you cannot limit expression due to changes in civilization and human experience, nebach, this is the opposite of wisdom. Kohelles reminds us, all that we consider as new, has existed before. The styles of today are, all of them, recycled. The nature of wisdom is to recognize the kolleles, the unity of G-d’s creation, to accept via humility the contradictory nature of knowing everything and nothing simultaneously. This Totality may be never be known except through humility derived from the sheer incomprehensibility of HaShem and His Torah and may never be completed so the seeker is both forever desiring and always satisfied! Generation after generation we are able to add to the understanding and revelation of the helig Moshele’s light for where ever we step, the border, horizon like, recedes.

All diversity, known and yet known, exists as an echo of HaShem’s singularly unique and total presence. This knowing resides on the peeling away of our own limitations as the the Navi states: ‘The heels of humility is the fear of HaShem,’ and as we recite every morning, ‘the fountainhead of wisdom is the fear of HaShem’ where in we know the Abishter’s AWESOMENESS! May our hearts be warmed through Torah u’Tefilla to a lasting knowing.