February 16th: Terumah
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
When Simon the Righteous spoke to his colleagues and disciples, he knew that they were devoted to Torah and Worship, so he compared their importance to something they might have been tempted to forget, the performance of good deeds:
“Al sh’loshah d’varim ha’olam omed: Al haTorah v’al haAvodah, v’al G’milut Chasadim.
On three things does the world stand: on Torah, on Worship, and on Deeds of Lovingkindness.” (Avot 1.2)
If he were speaking to us today, he may need to reverse the order and reconfigure his tagline. For us—who know very well the vital importance of good deeds, our nudge may need to be in the direction of the first two essentials, Torah study and Worship. Like Moses and Israel in the Torah, we need time “with God.”
Praying is more than just reciting the words in the prayer book. The ideal is to use the words to develop a real communion with God. The key word in Tradition is kavannah—concentration, focus, a real sense of connection, and the many years of Jewish piety have resulted in a number of suggestions for enhancing our kavannah. One of the most famous comes from Rabbi Shimon (Pirke Avot 2.13) who says, “When you pray, do not make your prayer a fixed form (automatic), but rather infuse it with a plea for mercy and grace before God.” We need to mean the words we read or chant. In the parlance of those old Nike ads, we should “be our prayers.”
For many—like the early Hassidim, fervor in prayer is both a technique and a goal. If God can see the exuberance with which we say our prayers, then hopefully, our efforts will be appreciated, and God will pay attention. But kavannah is more than just energy and frenetic behavior. True prayer requires accessing our deeply imbedded godliness and bringing it into contact with its Heavenly Source.
There are many Hassidic insights into this inner goodness, and most involve a deeper and more profound understanding of our situation in the world and relationship with God. One of the more interesting approaches is taught by Rebbe Nachman of Breslov who instructs his students to spend a few hours each day conversing with God—just talking. The subject matter does not particularly matter: students can share their thoughts on great matters or on relatively minor things. Speaking in their native tongues—instead of the formality of prayer-book Hebrew, the point is to share whatever is on one’s mind: questions about the nature of good and evil or personal concerns like a threadbare coat that needs replacing. Inasmuch as God is the Infinite Creator of everything, Rebbe Nachman teaches that God is interested in every single detail of the universe—and each individual’s every thought.
Called hit’bodedut, this talking meditative practice can have some interesting results. Because one is speaking with God, one ends up filtering or adjusting one’s thoughts so that God can understand. It is not a matter of self-censorship or “putting one’s best foot forward,” but rather of profound honesty. As in an extended conversation with a person, talking to God involves stating, restating, reflecting, and reconsidering—the goal being to identity our many influences and motivations. True honesty involves considering our many “selves,” both those that are less-than-ideal and those that represent our higher callings. Hopefully, we can find both the godliness that lies deep inside and the impediments that keep it so hidden.
Imagining oneself in God’s Presence is like looking into a cosmic mirror. The view can be harsh—detailed and revealing every wart, blemish, or hair out of place. God sees everything. But God’s view is also compassionate, loving, and creative enough to see that the good inside is worth preserving, improving, and embracing. God may see all our faults, but they are seen with a love and kindness that is profound, “for God is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger, abounding in kindness, and renouncing punishment” (Joel 2.13). God’s critiques are both devastatingly true and infinitely loving. God’s gaze is aspirational, as the cosmos itself yearns for our improvement.
Reb Nachman teaches that every sin has a glimmer of goodness at its base—that sin happens when this goodness is diverted or stifled or misunderstood. If, however, we can dig into the detritus of selfishness, hate, and evil, we may be able to find the path of repentance and redemption. Why do we want things we should not have? Why do we want to do things that we should not? What deeper motivations or inadequacies do our evil thoughts reflect? And is sin the best way to address them? If we can find the original good motivations and then find good and constructive ways to express them, then we can bring forth our inner godliness and become blessings. Hit’bodedut calls on us to view ourselves through the honest and loving eyes of the Lord.
That passage from Joel (2.13)—“for God is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger, abounding in kindness, and renouncing punishment”—is quoted by Rabbi Shimon in his proverb, and then he then adds a plea for self-mercy: “Be not wicked in your own esteem.” Let us beware focusing so much on our sins that we forget the mercy we deserve—and that God accords us. Though profoundly imperfect, we are ultimately lovable and worthy of redemption. Repentance is always a possibility. Improvement is the call of the Universe.
Sometimes we may think of our prayers as transactional—praising God and expecting in return our various needs and requests, but there is another, better, and more realistic approach. Prayer can be our time “up on the mountain,” a time for drawing close to God and for inviting God’s attention, vision, and influence. When we put ourselves in God’s purview, we invite our better and higher selves to come forth. In other words, the aspiration of prayer should be less transactional and more transformative: we are inviting the Lord into our lives and our sensibilities. As George Meredith explains, “When you rise from your prayers a better person, then surely have your prayers been answered.”