Jacob's ladder

                

The foundational text of Kabbalah, the Zohar, teaches that Jacob's ladder was a metaphor for the experience of prayer (incidentally, the Hebrew words for "ladder" and "voice" "sulam" and "kol" - representing the voice of prayer, share an identical numerological value of 136). Prayer constitutes the ladder through which a human being climbs from his or her earth-bound existence into deeper states of consciousness, until touching the heavenliness at the core of the human soul.
The Midrash (quoted in Yalkut Reuvani and Megaleh Amukot 1) on the verse transmits an oral tradition that the ladder in Jacob's dream consisted of four steps, which, according to the mystic Rabbi Isaiah Horowitz, known as the "Shelah" (1560-1630), embodied the Four Worlds of the Kabbalah.
While the philosophers spoke of three universes - planet earth, the galactic empire and the realm of pure spirit represented by angels - the Jewish mystics speak of four existential paradigms. They taught that our earthly universe, described as "the world of Action" (Asiya) evolved from three higher and more spiritual forms of existence, known as the world of "Formation" (Yetzira) the world of "Creation" (Beriya) and the world of "intimacy" (Atzilut).
Rabbi Horowitz explains that "a ladder etched on earth" represents the world of Asiya; "Angels of G‑d descending and ascending on it" symbolize the worlds of Yetzira and Beriya, populated by two distinct forms of angels; and "G‑d standing over him" is a metaphor for the fourth and highest universe - the world of Atzilut.
Is there a way of linking the Zohar's interpretation that the ladder represents prayer, and the interpretation of Rabbi Horowitz that the ladder represents different worlds?
The daily climb
The answer is yes. The Morning Prayer, too, is divided into four sections, which according to the great mystic Rabbi Isaac Luria (1534-1572), or Arizal, correspond to the same above-mentioned four worlds.
In the opening chapters of the "portal of prayer" (in Pri Etz Chaim) the Arizal explains that the division of the Morning Prayers into four sections corresponds to an ascending progression through the four worlds, beginning with Asiya and culminating in Atzilut.
During the beginning of the prayers, until a section known as "Baruch Sh'amar", the worshipper climbs the first step of the spiritual ladder, cultivating the microcosmic universe of Asiya within his or her psyche. In the second section of the liturgy, known as "Pesukei d'Zimra," the individual ascends to the second rung in the ladder, encountering the microcosmic world of Yetzira. Subsequently, during the recital of the Shema and its preceding blessings, the worshipper enters into the universe of Beriya, and, then, finally, during the silent Standing Prayer, he or she encounters the cosmic intimacy with the world of Atzilut.
What this means is that each morning we are summoned to climb Jacob's ladder and cultivate our microcosmic four worlds that reside at various strata of our identity. Only after this intense meditation and emotional journey can we face the bustling street with the vision and the fortitude required to illuminate the world around us with goodness and love.
These are abstract, metaphysical concepts. How can we apply the doctrine of the "four worlds" to our personal lives? How do we access them on a daily basis?
The answer is anything but simple. The Kabbalah sees it as the task of a lifetime dedicated to study, meditation and intense personal ethical and spiritual refinement. What follows is a tiny fragment of this vast and splendid edifice of Jewish mystical thought.
The World of Action
The first step toward genuine growth requires you to take control of your inner "world of action" (Asiya), becoming conscious of your day-to-day and hour-to-hour behavioral patterns and conduct, and introducing the critically needed changes you need to make in your schedule.
The changes may be in the area of social behavior (i.e. avoiding gossip, slander and bickering), in your business relationships (i.e. eliminating dishonesty and cheating) or in your personal life (ceasing immoral sexual behavior, confronting addictions, controlling your inclination to gamble, etc.). The initial step to take in climbing "Jacob's ladder" is a commitment to change undesirable habits on a tangible, behavioral level.
This is the primary function of the first section of the Morning Prayer, in which we read about various forms of animal sacrifices offered in the Temple. This symbolizes our own labor of confronting the beast within us and sacrificing its cravings, addictions and lusts to G‑d. Your inner beast may still be very crude and brutish, yet you are empowered to control its behavior and avenues of expression.
A key phrase in the first section of the prayers is "hodo l'Hashem", which can be translated as: "surrender to G‑d". This is the first stage of our personal work. Your heart may not be aglow with spiritual passion, but before you can achieve significant growth in your life you must first surrender your animal and tame it.
And yet, we are not robotic machines. Our behaviors are the result of emotions, attitudes and perspectives. If you wish to maintain a healthy and ethical lifestyle you can't merely do the right things by rote; you must be inspired inwardly. Thus, the journey must continue into the second layer of consciousness, the world of Yetzira.
The World of Formation
The second step in growth calls on you to explore the inner formations of your psyche. In the world of Yetzira you need to examine your inner attitudes, motives and temperaments that give birth to your daily conduct and behavior. You must muster the strength to reformat your internal emotional structure.
If in the first stage of action you attempt to change your software, in this second stage you strive to redesign your hard-drive. It is, of course, far more challenging and difficult and could come about only through a rigorous process of introspection, humility, honesty and courage.
This is the primary function of the second section of the morning prayers, known as "Pesukei Dezimra", or "verses of praise", also translated as "verses that weed out", in which we read Psalms describing the relationship between G‑d and nature. In Kabbalah, the relationship between G‑d and the world is not seen merely a relationship between the Creator and the created, but rather as a link between the surface level of reality and the depth of reality. In Kabbalah, "G‑d" is the term employed to describe the underlying structure of all of existence, including of course human existence. In Kabbalah, a relationship with G‑d means a relationship with your own inner core, with the reality of your reality. Alienation from G‑d means alienation from the depths of the self. This second section of prayer, a review of heart-stirring chapters of Psalms describing G‑d as the author of nature, is intended help us realign ourselves and our world with their true reality, with their authentic essence, with G‑d. The meditation on these truths helps us weed out our selfish, beastly and egocentric inclinations, cravings and attitudes and transcend our shame, fear and resentment. It helps us rewire our inner emotional structure and reformat our feelings and passions.
But how about the scars and wounds that have become entrenched in our psyche? How about the abuse and inner turmoil that have seeped into the very stuff of our chemistry? Can we ever heal from them?
For this you must process to the third layer of consciousness, to the world of Beriya.
The World of Creation
In this state of consciousness you do not merely reform yourself (as in the layer of formation), but you are empowered to recreate yourself. Here, in the world of Beriya, you surrender all that you previously claimed as yours to the divine vision of life, allowing for the higher power to recreate your identity all over again, from nothing to something.
In this third section of prayer we discuss the notion that G‑d creates existence every day anew. Here you are allowed entry into that core space of self that recognizes its perpetual metamorphosis from nothingness into something-ness. In this part of the prayer we also declare "Here O Israel, G‑d is one", which means that G‑d is the only one recreating us every day and every moment as aspects of His being, as expressions of His reality.
This is, admittedly, a frightening moment. You must possess the readiness to erase your entire hard drive, surrendering all of it to the invisible "microchip". It may feel like jumping off a cliff. Yet, when you take that jump, you allow yourself to experience rebirth, soaring far and beyond the limitations and parameters of your previously finite and flawed emotional structure.
Yet even after your entry into the third world, you haven't become one with reality. You have surrendered your notion of selfhood for the sake of ultimate reality, but there is still an "I" attempting to experience oneness. I am experiencing you; I am experiencing G‑d and the very awareness of self indicates that I am still alienated from true reality.
Take dancing as an example. How do you know that you are truly immersed in the ecstasy of the dance? The answer: when you are unaware of the fact that you are totally engrossed in the dance. The moment your "I" is begins to observe that your body is moving around uninhibitedly, you are not fully present in the dance. When you become truly one with somebody or something, you don't experience the oneness. You're just one.
How do you know when your body is healthy? When you don't feel it. When you begin to feel any part of your body - even if you don't feel pain but only a sense of heaviness - it is a sign that something in the body is dysfunctional. The healthier the body is, the less you sense it.
Artists are keenly aware of this truth in their own careers. There is a point in the work of writers, musicians, painters or speakers when they cease to be conscious of their existence as an independent entity, instead becoming conduits for a deeper energy coming through them. It is at this point that the artist performs best, for his self has merged with his work in a seamless whole.
Great communicators, for example, will tell you that their speeches become truly meaningful and transformative at the moment they become unaware that they are speaking. This may sound weird, but it is the truth. When you're truly busy living, the "you" does not occupy any space. When the "I" is totally in touch with life, it does not inform you of its existence, for it is completely unified with its mission.
The World of Intimacy
Thus we are invited, in prayer, into the fourth and deepest world, that of Atzilut. Here you give up everything, even the feeling that you have given up everything. You allow yourself to melt away in the all-pervading reality of the one G‑d. You achieve intimacy with the divine; your entire personality becomes a transparent conduit through which the oneness of G‑d shines forth.
This is the fourth section of prayer, known as the silent Standing Prayer. During this prayer, silence must reign supreme, for there is no "I" present to become excited and inspired. We do not reach out to attempt and experience lofty transcendence and sublime oneness. We simply address G‑d firsthand, as "You", and unite with Him in profound intimacy.
Yet surprisingly this part of the prayer is the most "physical" and concrete of the entire morning service, focusing on each person's material needs. Why?
Because, just as the most profound intimacy between a husband and a wife is experienced via very physical means, so too the most profound intimacy between man and G‑d finds expression in our sanctification of physical existence.
Spiritual enlightenment is a refined form of self-expression; it is a distraction of complete oneness with G‑d. On the other hand, taking your physical self, your material resources and your brute body and connecting them with G‑d, this is the hallmark of intimacy with the divine. Paradoxically, the very brutish and crude nature of physical matter allows us to escape the traps of the self-conscious ego.
Show me a man who mustered the strength to take control of the first world, and I will show you a self-controlled and fulfilled human being. Show me a man who humbled himself to enter the second universe, and I will show you a courageous and profound soul. Show me a man who dared enter the third universe, and I'll show you a happy man. But show me a man who climbed the fourth step of the ladder, and I'll show you a man who needs not to be happy, for he and happiness have become one.
This essay is based on a discourse by Rabbi Schnuer Zalman of Liadi with footnotes and commentary by his grandson, Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Lubavitch, the Tzemach Tzedek, and on a discourse by the latter's grandson, Rabbi Sholom Ber of Lubavitch; Published in Derech Mitzvotecha pp. 83-85; Or HaTorah Shemot vol. 4 parashat Mishpatim pp. 1127-1150; Sefer Hamaamarim 5678 pp. 264-265v.
Copyright 2004 Rabbi Yosef Y. Jacobson
Climbing Jacob's Ladder: Jewish Teachings on the Messiah
By Rabbi Janet Marder on
December 15, 2000
Do you have a childhood memory of sitting on the knee of some department store Santa Claus? I do. The memories come back to me as I stroll in the mall these days, surrounded by the trappings of the Christmas season. One rabbi I know has a name for the discomfort that some Jews feel at this time of the year -- our sense of being a minority engulfed by someone else's holiday. He calls it "Santa Claustrophobia."
Why do many parents - even some Jewish parents - tell their children about Santa Claus, want them to believe in Santa Claus? They say it's because Santa is fun for kids. But it also has to do with nurturing children's fantasy life and innocence. Many parents remember a time in their own lives when they believed in mysterious acts of goodness and beauty, when the ordinary world had an exciting, magical luster, when a marvelous stranger could come into their lives suddenly, bearing gifts that made everything all right.
Children outgrow their belief in Santa Claus. They learn that reality is all there is; there are no delightful secret visitors slipping down the chimney - and Santa is just a fat man in a red suit with a fake beard. But it's hard to outgrow the need for hope. The need to believe in a marvelous stranger who can make all the ugliness go away, make everything turn out all right. Small wonder that so many people are fascinated by the idea of a Messiah.
"The Messiah has come," announced the newspaper ad, "and his name is Yeshua." Full-page ads like this are placed in the New York Times and other major newspapers by Jews for Jesus especially at this time of year. They offer the by-now familiar message that Yeshua, Jesus, was the Messiah promised by the Jewish Bible. To acknowledge Jesus as the Messiah is simply to "complete" one's Jewishness.
It's not pleasant to see such an ad in our daily paper. Particularly at Christmastime, when we're feeling sensitive about our Jewish distinctiveness, it's disturbing to see a Christian group appropriate our name, our language, our sacred symbols. For there is no such thing as a "Jew for Jesus." It's a contradiction in terms. Where Christians and Jews divide most profoundly is over the question of the Messiah. For Christians the Messiah has come; for Jews the Messiah is still in the future. Christianity, in fact, is a faith built and centered on Messianism; but the Messianic hope is just one aspect of Judaism.
And not a very important aspect, one would say, judging from the scant attention paid to the Messiah in liberal synagogues today. Rabbis rarely speak on the subject. It is a slightly embarrassing topic, difficult to discuss without sounding like a naïve Jewish Pollyanna. But discuss it we must. During the Holocaust, Jews went to their death singing words taken from Maimonides' 13 principles of Jewish belief: "Ani ma'amin. I believe with perfect faith in the coming of the Messiah. And even though he tarries, even so, I still believe." Writes Eugene Borowitz: "How can one hope to understand Judaism without insight into so stubborn a faith?"
What has been the Jewish view of the Messiah? And what, if anything, makes sense for us today?
There is no doctrine of a Messiah in the Hebrew Bible. But some passages, particularly in the prophetic books, do envision an ideal future time. They are familiar to us, for they have become part of our liturgy. Listen, for instance, to the words of the prophet Micah:
"In the days to come
The Mount of the Lord's House shall stand
Firm above the mountains...
And many nations shall go and say,
Come, let us go up to the Mount of the Lord,
To the House of the God of Jacob;
That God may instruct us in His ways;
And that we may walk in God's paths.
Ki mi-tziyon teitzei Torah...For Teaching shall come forth from Zion,
And the word of the Lord from Jerusalem..." (4:1-4)
Other prophets warn of a catastrophic judgment day to come. Daniel teaches that on the judgment day the dead will rise from their graves to be judged by God (12:2-3). These passages speak merely of what God will do in an extraordinary future time. But there are also passages that describe an ideal king who will participate in the redemption. Here, for instance, is Isaiah's vision:
"A sprout will come forth from the trunk of Jesse (King David's father)
...The spirit of Adonai will fill him,
A spirit of wisdom and understanding...
With righteousness he will judge the poor
And bring justice to the lowly of the land
...The wolf shall dwell with the lamb,
The leopard lie down with the kid...
No one shall hurt or destroy
In all My holy mountain..." (Is.11:1-9)
But in all the biblical references to an ideal king he is never called the Messiah, mashiach in Hebrew. Mashiach means "the annointed one." When a new Israelite king or priest was installed in office the Bible calls for him to be touched with oil. Hence, any such priest or king could be called "mashiach."
Only in post-biblical times, when the Jews lived under Roman oppression, does the term "mashiach" take on a concrete, specific meaning: a perfect king, descended from David, who, with God's help, would rule Israel, defeat its enemies, restore the exiles to their land, reconcile the people with God and introduce a time of physical and spiritual well-being. The mashiach was always envisioned as a human being, an agent of God - a figure who combined the roles of warrior, judge, king and teacher of Torah.
Followers of Jesus - though not Jesus himself - claimed that he was the promised Messiah, and called him Christos, the Greek translation of mashiach. But since Jesus had failed to do what Jewish tradition said a Messiah was supposed to do, Jews did not accept him as Messiah. A Hasidic story illustrates well this Jewish attitude towards the Messiah. In the 18th century, the rebbe of Vitebsk, Menachem Mendl, journeyed to Jerusalem. One day a man went up to the Mount of Olives and began blowing a shofar. People cried out that the Messiah had come, and someone ran to Menachem Mendl with the good news. He went to the window and saw the Jerusalemites going about their normal business. "The Messiah hasn't come," he said, and went back to his studies. That has always been the Jewish response to those with Messianic claims: look out the window and see if the world has changed. If it is still unredeemed, still full of poverty, war and suffering, then the Messiah has not yet come.
Repeated disappointments with promised redeemers gave rise to a rather negative, even cynical, attitude among the Talmudic rabbis regarding Messianic speculation. When Rabbi Akiba proclaimed the first century military leader Bar Kochba as the Messiah, for instance, Rabbi Johanan ben Torta said to him, "Akiba, grass will grow from your cheeks - you'll be long in your grave - and the Messiah will still not be here" (T.J. Ta'anit IV). Or note the famous statement by Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai: "If you have a plant in your hand and someone comes and says the Messiah has arrived, first go and plant the plant" (Avot d'Rabbi Natan). Nevertheless, despite disillusionment, the Messianic hope never died; in the 17th century a man named Shabbetai Tzvi managed to convince a substantial part of the Jewish world that he was indeed the Messiah.
The emancipation of the Jews in the 19th century led to a thorough re-working of the doctrine of the Messiah. The early Reform Jews of Germany made an important change: in the 1841 prayerbook of the Hamburg Temple, the traditional prayers for the coming of the Messiah were replaced by references to a "Messianic age." The early Reformers believed that praying for a King Messiah would hurt their chances of gaining German citizenship. If they were loyal German subjects, how could they justify praying for a king who would re-establish the Jewish state and bring the exiles back to their homeland?
They were also distressed by the miraculous aspect of Messianism. How could a rational person believe that one man, aided by special powers, could single-handedly revolutionize the world order, and inaugurate a time when the dead would be resurrected and judged?
Finally, the Reformers felt that the traditional concept of the Messiah gave human beings too passive a role. Instead of relying on God to redeem the world, they put their faith in enlightened humankind, working together to bring about an era of social justice and universal peace.
The Reformers' dream of a Messianic age was born out of their confidence in human perfectability, their optimistic conviction that modern science and the spread of democracy would eliminate human misery.
Who takes Messianism seriously today? After the Holocaust and the Gulag, who still believes that education and scientific advancement lead to virtue? After mass murder in Cambodia and genocide in Rwanda, who still believes in the innate goodness of humankind? In an age when hatred and famine and disease still dominate the globe, the sentiments of 19th century liberals sound hollow and naïve. It's hard to share their faith in the steady march of progress, hard to believe, as they did, that "day by day life is getting better and better in every way."
Once the followers of the rebbe of Kosov asked him why the Messiah was so long in coming. And the rebbe answered, "Because we are no different today from what we were yesterday."
So what about us? Do we believe in our own power to transform the world? Do we believe that each of us can transform ourselves, that we can be different tomorrow than we were the day before? And do we live as if we believed?
Every time I think I'm too sophisticated for the Messiah, every time I wonder if I'm all grown up and still believing in Santa Claus, I remember a handful of precious words. "I have a dream...Free at last, free at last; thank God almighty, we are free at last." "Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream..." "And they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, nor shall they ever again learn war. But every man shall sit under his vine and under his fig tree, and none shall make them afraid" (Micah 4:3-4). "Im tirtzu, ain zo agada...if you will it, you can make it real."
I no longer put my faith in human goodness. Left to ourselves - without moral teaching and religious principles, without the strength and discipline of an ethical community, we are capable of infinite atrocities. But I can't let go of the dream. For deep in my heart, I do believe that we shall overcome the evils of this world...not by our own efforts alone, but with the help of God. God's power, working through us, inspiring us to put our minds and hearts and bodies to work in pursuit of the dream.
In this week's Torah portion, Jacob dreams of a ladder set on the earth and reaching up to heaven. The Midrash tells us that Jacob set out to climb the ladder himself. He took one step, then another and another and another. His foot slipped and he fell back a few steps, but he kept on going. Eventually, though, he was exhausted and frustrated, because he seemed to be getting nowhere. "I'm tired," he called out. "I have to stop." Then he heard God's voice: "Climb, Jacob, climb." "But I'm tired," he answered, almost in tears. "I can't go any further." And the answer came back again: "Even if you're tired...climb, Jacob, climb."
That is all the answer we get. Jews are people who see a ladder and know that, like it or not, our task is to keep on climbing.


The dream The foundational text of Kabbalah, the Zohar, teaches that Jacob's ladder was a metaphor for the experience of prayer (incidentally, the Hebrew words for "ladder" and "voice" - " s ula m " and " k ol " - representing the voice of prayer, share an identical numerological value of 136). Prayer constitutes the ladder through which a human being climbs from his or her earth-bound existence into deeper states of consciousness, until touching the heavenliness at the core of the human soul. The Midrash (quoted in Y alk u t R e u v a ni and M e g ale h A m u k o t 1) on the verse transmits an oral tradition that the ladder in Jacob's dream consisted of four steps, which, according to the mystic Rabbi Isaiah Horowitz, known as the "Shelah" (1560-1630), embodied the Four Worlds of the Kabbalah. While the philosophers spoke of three universes - planet earth, the galactic empire and the realm of pure spirit represented by angels - the Jewish mystics speak of four existential paradigms. They taught that our earthly universe, described as "the world of Action" ( A siy a ) evolved from three higher and more spiritual forms of existence, known as the world of "Formation" ( Y e t zir a ) the world of "Creation" ( B e riy a ) and the world of "intimacy" ( A t zilu t ). Rabbi Horowitz explains that "a ladder etched on earth" represents the world of A siy a ; "Angels of G‑d descending and ascending on it" symbolize the worlds of Y e t zir a and B e riy a , populated by two distinct forms of angels; and "G‑d standing over him" is a metaphor for the fourth and highest universe - the world of A t zilu t . Is there a way of linking the Zohar's interpretation that the ladder represents prayer, and the interpretation of Rabbi Horowitz that the ladder represents different worlds?
The daily climb The answer is yes. The Morning Prayer, too, is divided into four sections, which
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The worshipper climbs the first step of the spiritual ladder, cultivating the microcosmic universe of A s i y a ….
according to the great mystic Rabbi Isaac Luria (1534-1572), or Arizal, correspond to the same above-mentioned four worlds. In the opening chapters of the "portal of prayer" (in P ri E t z C h aim ) the Arizal explains that the division of the Morning Prayers into four sections corresponds to an ascending progression through the four worlds, beginning with A siy a and culminating in A t zilu t . During the beginning of the prayers, until a section known as " B a r u c h S h'a m a r ", the worshipper climbs the first step of the spiritual ladder, cultivating the microcosmic universe of A siy a within his or her psyche. In the second section of the liturgy, known as " P e s u k ei d'Zim r a ," the individual ascends to the second rung in the ladder, encountering the microcosmic world of Y e t zir a . Subsequently, during the recital of the S h e m a and its preceding blessings, the worshipper enters into the universe of B e riy a , and, then, finally, during the silent Standing Prayer, he or she encounters the cosmic intimacy with the world of A t zilu t . What this means is that each morning we are summoned to climb Jacob's ladder and cultivate our microcosmic four worlds that reside at various strata of our identity. Only after this intense meditation and emotional journey can we face the bustling street with the vision and the fortitude required to illuminate the world around us with goodness and love. These are abstract, metaphysical concepts. How can we apply the doctrine of the "four worlds" to our personal lives? How do we access them on a daily basis? The answer is anything but simple. The Kabbalah sees it as the task of a lifetime dedicated to study, meditation and intense personal ethical and spiritual refinement. What follows is a tiny fragment of this vast and splendid edifice of Jewish mystical thought.
The World of Action The first step toward genuine growth requires you to take control of your inner "world of action" ( A siy a ), becoming conscious of your day-to-day and hour-tohour behavioral patterns and conduct, and introducing the critically needed changes you need to make in your schedule. The changes may be in the area of social behavior (i.e. avoiding gossip, slander and bickering), in your business relationships (i.e. eliminating dishonesty and cheating) or in your personal life (ceasing immoral sexual behavior, confronting addictions, controlling your inclination to gamble, etc.). The initial step to take in climbing "Jacob's ladder" is a commitment to change undesirable habits on a tangible, behavioral level. This is the primary function of the first section of the Morning Prayer, in which we read about various forms of animal sacrifices offered in the Temple. This symbolizes our own labor of confronting the beast within us and sacrificing its
A relationship with G‑d means a relationship with your own inner core….
cravings, addictions and lusts to G‑d. Your inner beast may still be very crude and brutish, yet you are empowered to control its behavior and avenues of expression. A key phrase in the first section of the prayers is " h o d o l'H a s h e m ", which can be translated as: "surrender to G‑d". This is the first stage of our personal work. Your heart may not be aglow with spiritual passion, but before you can achieve significant growth in your life you must first surrender your animal and tame it. And yet, we are not robotic machines. Our behaviors are the result of emotions, attitudes and perspectives. If you wish to maintain a healthy and ethical lifestyle you can't merely do the right things by rote; you must be inspired inwardly. Thus, the journey must continue into the second layer of consciousness, the world of Y e t zir a .
The World of Formation The second step in growth calls on you to explore the inner formations of your psyche. In the world of Y e t zir a you need to examine your inner attitudes, motives and temperaments that give birth to your daily conduct and behavior. You must muster the strength to reformat your internal emotional structure. If in the first stage of action you attempt to change your software, in this second stage you strive to redesign your hard-drive. It is, of course, far more challenging and difficult and could come about only through a rigorous process of introspection, humility, honesty and courage. This is the primary function of the second section of the morning prayers, known as " P e s u k ei D e zim r a ", or "verses of praise", also translated as "verses that weed out", in which we read Psalms describing the relationship between G‑d and nature. In Kabbalah, the relationship between G‑d and the world is not seen merely a relationship between the Creator and the created, but rather as a link between the surface level of reality and the depth of reality. In Kabbalah, "G‑d" is the term employed to describe the underlying structure of all of existence, including of course human existence. In Kabbalah, a relationship with G‑d means a relationship with your own inner core, with the reality of your reality. Alienation from G‑d means alienation from the depths of the self. This second section of prayer, a review of heart-stirring chapters of Psalms describing G‑d as the author of nature, is intended help us realign ourselves and our world with their true reality, with their authentic essence, with G‑d. The meditation on these truths helps us weed out our selfish, beastly and egocentric inclinations, cravings and attitudes and transcend our shame, fear and resentment. It helps us rewire our inner emotional structure and reformat our feelings and passions.
Here you are allowed entry into that core space of self that recognizes its perpetual metamorphosis….
But how about the scars and wounds that have become entrenched in our psyche? How about the abuse and inner turmoil that have seeped into the very stuff of our chemistry? Can we ever heal from them? For this you must process to the third layer of consciousness, to the world of B e riy a .
The World of Creation In this state of consciousness you do not merely reform yourself (as in the layer of formation), but you are empowered to recreate yourself. Here, in the world of B e riy a , you surrender all that you previously claimed as yours to the divine vision of life, allowing for the higher power to recreate your identity all over again, from nothing to something. In this third section of prayer we discuss the notion that G‑d creates existence every day anew. Here you are allowed entry into that core space of self that recognizes its perpetual metamorphosis from nothingness into something-ness. In this part of the prayer we also declare "Here O Israel, G‑d is one", which means that G‑d is the only one recreating us every day and every moment as aspects of His being, as expressions of His reality. This is, admittedly, a frightening moment. You must possess the readiness to erase your entire hard drive, surrendering all of it to the invisible "microchip". It may feel like jumping off a cliff. Yet, when you take that jump, you allow yourself to experience rebirth, soaring far and beyond the limitations and parameters of your previously finite and flawed emotional structure. Yet even after your entry into the third world, you haven't become one with reality. You have surrendered your notion of selfhood for the sake of ultimate reality, but there is still an "I" attempting to experience oneness. I am experiencing you; I am experiencing G‑d and the very awareness of self indicates that I am still alienated from true reality. Take dancing as an example. How do you know that you are truly immersed in the ecstasy of the dance? The answer: when you are unaware of the fact that you are totally engrossed in the dance. The moment your "I" is begins to observe that your body is moving around uninhibitedly, you are not fully present in the dance. When you become truly one with somebody or something, you don't experience the oneness. You're just one. How do you know when your body is healthy? When you don't feel it. When you begin to feel any part of your body - even if you don't feel pain but only a sense of heaviness - it is a sign that something in the body is dysfunctional. The healthier the body is, the less you sense it. Artists are keenly aware of this truth in their own careers. There is a point in the work of writers, musicians, painters or speakers when they cease to be conscious of their existence as an independent entity, instead becoming
conduits for a deeper energy coming through them. It is at this point that the artist performs best, for his self has merged with his work in a seamless whole. Great communicators, for example, will tell you that their speeches become truly meaningful and transformative at the moment they become unaware that they are speaking. This may sound weird, but it is the truth. When you're truly busy living, the "you" does not occupy any space. When the "I" is totally in touch with life, it does not inform you of its existence, for it is completely unified with its mission.
The World of Intimacy Thus we are invited, in prayer, into the fourth and deepest world, that of A t zilu t . Here you give up everything, even the feeling that you have given up everything. You allow yourself to melt away in the all-pervading reality of the one G‑d. You achieve intimacy with the divine; your entire personality becomes a transparent conduit through which the oneness of G‑d shines forth. This is the fourth section of prayer, known as the silent Standing Prayer. During this prayer, silence must reign supreme, for there is no "I" present to become excited and inspired. We do not reach out to attempt and experience lofty transcendence and sublime oneness. We simply address G‑d firsthand, as "You", and unite with Him in profound intimacy. Yet surprisingly this part of the prayer is the most "physical" and concrete of the entire morning service, focusing on each person's material needs. Why? Because, just as the most profound intimacy between a husband and a wife is experienced via very physical means, so too the most profound intimacy between man and G‑d finds expression in our sanctification of physical existence. Spiritual enlightenment is a refined form of self-expression; it is a distraction of complete oneness with G‑d. On the other hand, taking your physical self, your material resources and your brute body and connecting them with G‑d, this is the hallmark of intimacy with the divine. Paradoxically, the very brutish and crude nature of physical matter allows us to escape the traps of the selfconscious ego. Show me a man who mustered the strength to take control of the first world, and I will show you a self-controlled and fulfilled human being. Show me a man who humbled himself to enter the second universe, and I will show you a courageous and profound soul. Show me a man who dared enter the third universe, and I'll show you a happy man. But show me a man who climbed the fourth step of the ladder, and I'll show you a man who needs not to be happy, for he and happiness have become one.