Letting in the Light
Rabbi Tom Samuels, CKA
The ancient Jewish sages characterized the Bible as a love letter from God to humanity. Every year, the Jewish people re-read, re-examine, and struggle with this letter on Shabbat and the Jewish holidays. (From Rabbi Pinchas Peli’s “Torah Today”)
This month, Jews around the world read from the Book of Deuteronomy, Devarim in the Hebrew. Let’s look at a particularly prescient passage from this part of the Torah: “When a man takes a wife and is intimate with her, and it happens that she does not find favor in his eyes because he discovers in her an unseemly matter, and he writes for her a document of severance, gives it into her hand, and sends her away from his house. She leaves his house and goes and marries another man.” (Deuteronomy 24:1-2)
Divorce, as with all transitional processes is painful and scary. Imagine leaving (or being left from) all that is familiar, for the untamed, unpredictable wilderness of being a single parent. Of being alone, yet again. I know this from first-hand experience.
The Torah teaches that it is during life’s inevitable transitions that the opportunity for self-actualization is most possible. The word for “crisis” in Hebrew is Mashber, a word also used for "birthstone", a seat upon which a woman in ancient times sat as she gave birth. Crises can be frightening, even petrifying. And, they are filled with incredible potential for personal growth. (From Rabbi Danny Gordis’ “God was not in the Fire”)
While certainly an aspirational perspective, we are all ultimately fragile and flawed. Who among us is not willing to sacrifice personal growth in return for an end to the suffering and pain?
A story is told about the great Hassidic master, Rabbi Menachem-Mendl of Kotzk, Poland (1789-1859): In the Bible, when Esau discovered that he had fallen victim to his brother Jacob’s deceit, he uttered a cry that seemed to come from the deepest recesses of his heart. (Genesis 27:34)
Because of Esau’s tears, the Rabbis declared that Israel was to suffer the throes of Exile. “But," said Rabbi Menachem-Mendl, “there is a limit, there has to be. Over the centuries we have shed so many tears, enough to make the oceans overflow, enough to flood the heavens. There is a limit, Lord, there must be a limit!”
Perhaps some solace for our human condition can be found in the ineffability of the Hebrew language. The Hebrew word for the wilderness, for the scary unknown, “midbar,” comes from the root “dbr,” to speak. That only once we’ve stepped outside of our comfort zones can we hear, can we encounter the Voice of God. Then, and only then, might we be able to navigate our suffering knowing that we do not have to go about it alone. (From Rabbi Irwin Kula’s “Yearnings”)
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, of Blessed Memory, taught that the most profound of all spiritual experiences, the base of all others, is the knowledge that we are not alone. “God,” wrote Rabbi Sacks, “is holding us by the hand, sheltering us, lifting us when we fall, forgiving us when we fail, healing the wounds in our soul through the power of His love.”
Reach out to God, beckons the Bible. “Lift up thine eyes, up to the Mountains.” (Psalm 121) For when you do so, a crack will appear. “That’s how the light gets in… that’s how the light gets in.” (Leonard Cohen)
B’Shalom,
Rabbi Tom Samuels
Rabbi Tom Samuels, CKA
The ancient Jewish sages characterized the Bible as a love letter from God to humanity. Every year, the Jewish people re-read, re-examine, and struggle with this letter on Shabbat and the Jewish holidays. (From Rabbi Pinchas Peli’s “Torah Today”)
This month, Jews around the world read from the Book of Deuteronomy, Devarim in the Hebrew. Let’s look at a particularly prescient passage from this part of the Torah: “When a man takes a wife and is intimate with her, and it happens that she does not find favor in his eyes because he discovers in her an unseemly matter, and he writes for her a document of severance, gives it into her hand, and sends her away from his house. She leaves his house and goes and marries another man.” (Deuteronomy 24:1-2)
Divorce, as with all transitional processes is painful and scary. Imagine leaving (or being left from) all that is familiar, for the untamed, unpredictable wilderness of being a single parent. Of being alone, yet again. I know this from first-hand experience.
The Torah teaches that it is during life’s inevitable transitions that the opportunity for self-actualization is most possible. The word for “crisis” in Hebrew is Mashber, a word also used for "birthstone", a seat upon which a woman in ancient times sat as she gave birth. Crises can be frightening, even petrifying. And, they are filled with incredible potential for personal growth. (From Rabbi Danny Gordis’ “God was not in the Fire”)
While certainly an aspirational perspective, we are all ultimately fragile and flawed. Who among us is not willing to sacrifice personal growth in return for an end to the suffering and pain?
A story is told about the great Hassidic master, Rabbi Menachem-Mendl of Kotzk, Poland (1789-1859): In the Bible, when Esau discovered that he had fallen victim to his brother Jacob’s deceit, he uttered a cry that seemed to come from the deepest recesses of his heart. (Genesis 27:34)
Because of Esau’s tears, the Rabbis declared that Israel was to suffer the throes of Exile. “But," said Rabbi Menachem-Mendl, “there is a limit, there has to be. Over the centuries we have shed so many tears, enough to make the oceans overflow, enough to flood the heavens. There is a limit, Lord, there must be a limit!”
Perhaps some solace for our human condition can be found in the ineffability of the Hebrew language. The Hebrew word for the wilderness, for the scary unknown, “midbar,” comes from the root “dbr,” to speak. That only once we’ve stepped outside of our comfort zones can we hear, can we encounter the Voice of God. Then, and only then, might we be able to navigate our suffering knowing that we do not have to go about it alone. (From Rabbi Irwin Kula’s “Yearnings”)
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, of Blessed Memory, taught that the most profound of all spiritual experiences, the base of all others, is the knowledge that we are not alone. “God,” wrote Rabbi Sacks, “is holding us by the hand, sheltering us, lifting us when we fall, forgiving us when we fail, healing the wounds in our soul through the power of His love.”
Reach out to God, beckons the Bible. “Lift up thine eyes, up to the Mountains.” (Psalm 121) For when you do so, a crack will appear. “That’s how the light gets in… that’s how the light gets in.” (Leonard Cohen)
B’Shalom,
Rabbi Tom Samuels
