Your Holy Torah, Our Holy Torah.

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.

When is Shabbos over?

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.

Ramhal as expressing 18th century Enlightenment values

This is the article that introduced me to Rabbi Dr. Alan Brill’s blog, and I was glad to see him discussing the Valle, z’t’k’l, and my teacher, Rabbi Yosef Spinner, shlit’a, with whom I was fortunate to study some of the Valle’s, and the R’M’Ch’L’s works. Thanks again, R. Dr. Brill. Though this will be the end of my reblogging, blee neder, I am glad to have come across your efforts in these regards and to share them with the, um, one or two people that know my blog exists! Kol haKavod.

Alan Brill's avatarThe Book of Doctrines and Opinions:

Yoni Garb has a article attempting to contextualize Ramhal in 18th century Italian Enlightenment and Garb wants to use the writings of his students such as Valle whose works were recently published. “R. Joseph Spinner, a senior kabbalist working at a Jerusalem yeshiva, has published twenty-five meticulous editions of Valle’s works.”
Garb focuses on the tikkunim with Valle commentary. He presents Ramhal’s prophetic vision that we need new tikkunim for our new era that focus on the shekhinah and the three lower worlds.

Garb culls out the use of the words effort, human work, politico as reflecting 18th century values. Valle comes across as strongly anti-Christian but fascinated with Christianity. [As a side point by the site owner, there is a Kabbalah Centre lecturer who presents Valle as teaching that Jesus brought Kabbalah for the gentiles!!!]

The article itself says it does not have the time to show the similarity…

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Rabbi Simhah Zissel Ziv and the Path of Musar by Geoffrey D. Claussen

A wonderful reflection on a world well hidden. Yasher koyach Rabbi Dr. Brill, your work is wonderfully written and displays a respectful attitude towards subject matter that is often, and unfortunately, written off in reactionary haste. Thank you for the efforts.

Alan Brill's avatarThe Book of Doctrines and Opinions:

“Man wants to achieve greatness overnight, and he wants to sleep well that night too.”– Rabbi Simcha Zissel Ziv, Alter of Kelm

“Most of us, myself included, let ourselves off the hook too easily in our moral lives.” – Rabbi Geoffrey Claussen

The leading musar teacher Rabbi Simhah Zissel Ziv of the late 19th century was deeply troubled as he walked along the main road in his town of Kelm, which had been paved by the king’s prisoners sentenced to slave labor. He would  be troubled by their suffering.  “How can people walk calmly through this place,” he wondered, “when people suffered so much and invested their blood and sweat?” Today in 2016, we have labor injustices, workers mistreated and much of the cheap merchandise that we buy is produced by slave labor. But do we have any authoritative traditional Jewish voice that makes Jews sensitive to these sufferings?

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Nowhere Is Home.

Illinois sat heavily on the ancient oak stump. She kicked a bit at the mixture of decayed wood and soil under her feet, rolled tobacco into the dry paper she had retained and smoked leisurely, exhaling slowly as her thoughts rolled forward, congealing into words she spoke, while looking away, toward Dew.


“Some people, many I guess, look back and think about those loves lost, opportunities faded, failed arrangements, they curl up or bite the sheets, unhappy with certain choices or outcomes; they’re angry, full of opinion and bitterness, but they never consider absence. Not me. I look back for a home, at even the simplest arrangement of familiar order, and I long for it, I pine, the greater crush, for belonging somewhere, more than for any capricious love. That is true, more than any hope I seek out, is a desire for home. My lost parents, my emptied room and the stack of blank paper leaves arranged near my window on which I wrote poetry; the sounds of our piano ringing out across open rooms. The exiled heart has no luxury to consider regret, only a raw and bold kind of fear, terror really, of what gives chase, and it is always absence just a pace away. When you know that fear, the world sees you as an outsider and you are silent, richer in your quietude than the loud who contest, who want despite having.”

“I am sorry you have to hurt that way, Illy.”

“Sorry doesn’t return my humanity, it doesn’t straighten the bend. But this isolation illumines, it reveals the love of God on high, for the world is just large enough and when we shrink it into the space of our uninjured but temperamental hearts, to fit our reasoning, then we can know only temporal experiences and frustration, but if we are awakened to the expanse, blanketed with humility, then we can become one with the Divine illustriousness and know that which is outside of us, that which is unseen.”


“Oh Illy, you lost me. Again! I’m tired too, just a bit. If you talk more, I will sleep and – hold me, please. I want you to know, that my not understanding you does not frighten me and it certainly does not motivate me to push you away. I love you and I am sure I always will however you express yourself, because you have shown me, that under all your course exterior and pain is a loyal and true friend, a splendid soul that has only given to me and never expected anything in return. I couldn’t imagine not trusting you or leaving you. I cannot imagine being without you.”

Illinois took Dew’s hand gently, grateful for her steadfast presence, while the world bred lovers of straw-men. The young London woman felt the calloused grip of Illinois’ hand over hers and wept softly for both of them knowing these moments would always become fewer and because Illinois would not cry.

Dasa Maha Vidya: Suddenly, A Dog Bites Your Ear.

I’m afraid I’ve forgotten how to kiss.

The hours of embracing,

drawing near and caressing

the orbit of another;

capturing, weakly, in soft cusp, the palm and fingers, excited suddenly,

that love has found its way to your lands

hungry as they were.

Post argument calm felt like sex, but sex was better, though she hadn’t been aware of that. Instead it was loving him or wanting to kill him, both at the same time, maybe. She only knew the limits set by herself and did not consider where her opponents were holding. He met her hard gripping a can of diet pop at a weekend lecture summit. During his sober day hours he noted in her a queer regard for space and rule. She was peculiar, and for him, in an enticing way. She would bore off to the side, quiet at drinking functions but outspoken in debate with lecturers and audience members.

You are only dust and water, animated with fire.

He relaxed, having spent the cartridges, the room utterly quiet now. Curling into his high, Thomas eyed the air lit up with visions, a large field view of meteorite showers during the day. Fiery sparks across the dome of his cornea, until he leapt to an upright sitting position in his chair, the bright specter gone from his focus and downed the quarter filled pint of porter, warming before him.

He had let go. Lobbed a volley across the table, hit every pin. It had been at least two years, maybe three, he couldn’t recollect the time since the needle had loved him. Indeed it was five years, two hundred seventy-six days, three hours and fifty nine seconds. During that time he knew only the slow, lonesome ride toward self improvement.

Fuck the circumstances, he thought to himself and rose up, poured another glass from a new porter and drank from it, knocking at the bathroom door. She had barricaded herself in there after he unloaded the Glock’s contents throughout the room. He recalled his Father’s admonishment, “when they come for you, don’t be sober.”

Another fucking basket case he wanted to say, but he couldn’t stop his sorrow for her. Instead he conceded and pursued her attention.

“What!?” he heard her speaking without saying anything, but he didn’t connect. She was a stranger now behind the door in this hotel room, protected by his being distracted.

“I am here, I just wanted to say that.”

“You’re a fucking neanderthal.”

Without that kind of indescribable template two people conjoin through, exile and conflict prevail, the momentum swaying from one side to the other and, when comprehended as though between roving swells, the homeland becomes visible occasionally before passing behind walls again, and there will always be a place for us to dwell, if only we can get there.

There was three days of feeling gung ho about a variety of ideas, participating in contemporary exhortations. He’d slip, after the affairs to his room (he paid double for a single occupancy) and inject the heroin; oh, that pinch and burn, the warm slide of comfort on his mattress and the fade, off into the wall paper, the beams, through wires, current running to and fro, in the same place at every moment and he was one with all of it until, as now, he leaned back, naked, nodding in and out of oblivion.


He woke from the stupor, as though yanked to, seeing her revealed, in the unspoken nakedness of her absent modesty. Her form straddled over his chest, rising from knees lost in blanket, thighs flexed with no fright. the broad triangle of her sparse pubic hair, warm and pressed against him, ended as her skin curved and rose, tensed, under the curved hills of youthful fat neglected, with her pulling, all her strength being exerted, at the black leather belt snarled around his throat.


The box sat there, just under her hips, between her legs, the silent fortitude a charade. She was alone now, happily, no one in the room, well, G-d was with us, but no one she had to convince of anything except that space, her neglected box. The fire stoked, the expanse breaks open and warming glows of afternoon linger in the room’s shade as burning tendrils climb her guts and arms multiply and wave, the blood under her skin blue and she becomes Mahakali, the Great Kali.

His strength was not yet diminished by the lack of inhalation and coming to he knew to destroy her quickly and redeem himself, knowing her lack of strength, her brittle grip, all easily breakable; the tremble in her legs pushing against a soft mattress and the pain buried in her.

Instead, gazing at her effort, her turbid understanding of loneliness, he, seeing the baldness of her vulnerability, gripped the sheets, curled his toes in on a rolling meditation, the lights behind his eyes rising, subtle swells of color and pattern, and, deciding not to contribute more sorrow, relinquished himself to her suffering.

The Pearl

At the heart of all matters lies the Pearl.

A light in the light.

First, a ring,

in a great shroud of invisible light,

purest energy.

Inside the ring, another ring, orbiting the space,

into a blanket of fire and infinite settings.

Conceptual of course, for there is no border, no distinction, except the Law;

manicured energies until is formed skins and corruptions birth more pearls, and the

stones are delivered to Israel.

All originates from beyond the veil of frozen light never breached.

Suddenly an impulse and the world is filled with understanding,

myriad branches extending into pale dusk and the dust is ordered.

The worlds pull and tug, their gravity manifest,

an astounding battle which causes no destruction, only form and grace,

shape and substance.

From invisible light, purest energy

supernova into

gravitational sequencing, all exhaust is code,

letters and knowing,

derived through the Pearl.

Foundry

The wick which is lacking oil burns up immediately, producing no useful light. The twisted linen which draws oil remains steadfastly lit, retaining the wicks function much longer.

The סנה which משה רבנו experienced represents on one facet the עולם ברור

וילכו שניהם יחדיו this is the revelation of His unity.

In our world the flame consumes the wood and together they reveal light in their mutual destruction. The nuclear forces of stars push back gravitational forces and when one looks out into the cosmos he sees their glimmering light embedded in a vast blanket of darkness.

This סנה did not reflect these characteristics, it was inverted, it revealed the עולם ברור. The light of its origin, though of the interior, was outside as a flame leaps from the wick but the סנה  was not consumed. The fire did not have to obtain sustenance, that it would bring fuel from an external source as the sun’s light shines on us, because it’s innards are digesting. Rather it is sustained internally from His open hand and the light shone out from within. Here we have to see from the perspective of אדם that the light of the sun shines onto him. This light of his soul, of the hidden portion illumines from inside out so that nothing is concealed.

This reflects a profound parallel with בני ישראל we assume מושיח  will bring our national redemption but hasn’t this occurred with the דור הדעה and the יציאת מצרים ?

Rather this burning סנה is the individual man and woman of  ישראל.

The man is מקדש the woman to himself as HaShem is מקדש the שבת קודש. HaShem has revealed His unity as all elements of creation merge into One with the elevation of Shabbos kodesh.  The woman is מקבל the man as שבת קודש is מקבל the Abishter. But really, ביום ההוא יהיה ה’ אחד ושמו אחד. the ר’מ’ח’ל’ ז’צ’ל’  states that טוב שולט רע is טוב for the whole and that רע שולט טוב is רע for the whole. This because אדם is only one entity, though of infinite components in the עולם הפוך and whichever force prevails, this defines the yachids being.

But as the verse clarifies for us in תהלים one manner is known and one is lost.

In this world man and woman reflect the עולם הפוך as they are divided into separate entities yet they cling to one another. Separated we are the fire and the wood.

I heard from R”G”J, shlit’a, in the name of rabbi Yaakov Kaminetsky on במדבר  Israel could be counted as tribes because the משקן provided the foundation for the uniqueness of each individual, tribe to be centered on. Their distinctions did not lead to מחלוקת לא לשמה followed by the destruction of form. The man and woman also must reveal the Divinity within each other, a revelation of unity which reveals that they are בשר אחד and founded in service to HaShem.

 

What is straight forward to the cow is good for the wolf.

Do you only say what is straight forward?

Sometimes straight forward is so sublime you need to appear as though you’re reading between the lines to observe it clearly.

What do you see?

That, already, you’re standing in a forest with trees so high their crowns are beyond perception and you  realize, in that moment, the tree is feminine, the shade, masculine, and you’re grateful to have heard that vort from Rebbe, shlit’a, that the one (influence) is the other (receptivity) when considered in its way, and the others, all together, are the one (Adam haKadmon).

You couple that idea, walking to shul, with an understanding acquired from Rebbe, again, der Helige Yid talking of our holy Sabbath’s spiral staircase, and smile; even before you were born, the worlds are for you.

“Eat joyfully, for you have already gained approval” – Menucha v’Simcha

“You open Your hand and satisfy every living thing [with] its desire.” Tehillim 145: 16

That is the hidden admonition in the words, “Wise Torah scholars increase Shalom in this world.” The wise increase scope, and greater understanding resolves conflicts. The lack of conflict reveals unity and we resolve with an increase of Tov, light, good.

What is straight forward to the cow is good for the wolf.