Hanukah Gelt: Trusting in God - (Dec 2009)

(Photo:Hanukah in my hermitage last year)

A contemplative Jew and a Jewish Contemplative are not the same thing. On this website the term “Jewish Contemplative” does not simply denote a “contemplative” Jew. I use it as a term which describes a lifestyle, an occupation, and maybe a vocation. A “Dedicated Jewish Contemplative” is one who lives a life specifically devoted to God in prayer. It is not so much a life of study as a lifestyle of “cleaving to God” or “Deveykut”.

The mission statement of the Jewish Contemplative Community to which I belong reads:

“We cleave to God.
In doing this, We hope to be redeemed from selfishness;
In doing this, We pray for our congregation’s members;
In doing this, We pray for the Community of Israel;
In doing this, We pray for all Creation.
We hope that this may be our specific and acceptable Service to God.”

Ideally, that mission statement describes a full-time activity which involves no other activity or occupation. At the moment, the other members of my community are in part-time or full-time employment but they would all support the existence of “Full-time Jewish Contemplatives” and aim to live as close to the ideal as possible according to their own life-circumstances. A full-time observance could be possible only for those who are self-sufficient or who are supported by a community. The only Jews to have lived this way are some of the temple staff from the tribe of Levi and perhaps the “Sons of the Prophets”, the monastic Therapeutae, and certain individuals from Pietist groups. (In our day, Rabbis often receive salaries but though they are clergy they are not necessarily contemplatives.) The more usual Jewish way to live a contemplative lifestyle has involved part-time employment, but always the aim has been to devote the majority of the time to Torah study and, for those with a mystical or contemplative calling, to contemplative prayer. 

Since 2003 I have been living the life of a Dedicated Jewish Contemplative with no outside funding. I live in an area of Spain with over 26% unemployment and, so far, have found it impossible to obtain part-time work which would not clash with my chosen life of prayer and seclusion. 

So how have I managed it? 

Well, to put it in a nutshell- I have been living exclusively on my very modest savings and on a very large helping of bitachon- trust in Divine Providence. The former is disappearing rapidly but the latter has never failed me. 

Last year, during the season of Hanukah, I wrote a commentary for the community on the festival Haftarah reading. That article reflected on the notion of Trust in God in such situations and I am now publishing this version of it here for you to read. 

Haftarah Shabbat Hanukah

Zechariah 4:6

Before converting to Judaism I had been a Carmelite friar. Elijah was seen as having been the Carmelite Order’s mythical “founder”. It has often occurred to me how remarkably unexpected it is that now, thirty years later, I should be trying to live and promote a sort of “ Jewish Carmelite” renewal. 

When I ask myself why I was not born Jewish, the only fully satisfactory answer that I can think of is that converts bring with them certain insights and skills which are intended to be used to enrich the community they join. Just as Avraham ben Maimon believed certain Sufi practices to be a memory of the original Jewish “prophetic-school” ones, I can see the reflection of the Jewish monastic tradition (Therapeutae) in both the Carthusian and the Carmelite traditions of Christian monasticism. Some days I wonder if all this is just me trying to draw a bull’s-eye around an arrow-head already shot, but most days I can see that had I not been a Carmelite I would not have had the positive experience of monasticism nor such a direct contact with a “spark” from the Elijan tradition that those years gave me. They gave me confidence through experience and not just theory: confidence in God’s Providence and confidence in seeing the value of a full-time life of prayer. 

It also means that I had a fortuitous exposure to Teresa of Avila (a Christian of Jewish descent) who in the sixteenth century, struggled with the same problems of funding a contemplative lifestyle as I do now. 

Once when discussing the lax spirit and lack of funds in a new convent of the Discalced Carmelite reform, someone suggested to Teresa of Avila that the nuns needed to beg more often. She replied that it was precisely because they were seeking charitable support that they were without. She was a firm believer that if the nuns had prayed for support it would miraculously appear. 

She did not expect it to drop from heaven unaided. She expected it to come from the purses of rich benefactors as a direct result of the nuns’ unquestioning trust in God. Her firm belief was definitely that “God would provide” a miracle of that Divine/human kind… if the nuns had their prayer lives and their reliance on God to the forefront. 

I am Jewish and not Christian, and so I do not go all the way along that Teresian path. By writing this at all I am, quite transparently now, advertising my funding difficulties as well as my openness to the idea of part-time employment in order to survive.  I am reminded of the Jewish joke:

Sam: Dear God, please help me win the lottery!

Heavenly Voice:  I will Sam, I will....but first my boy, you have to buy a ticket.

Nevertheless, on a day-to-day basis, Teresa's  somewhat quietist approach is one that I am often “accused” of taking myself. I will admit it appeals to me but then, so far, it seems to have worked. It is true that in the last year things have become decidedly tight, and like anyone I have moments when I fret about the future. But if I see my personal situation in comparison with people who are really poor- with Jacob, I can say that I certainly have “enough”.

One of the legends of Hanukah is that the last remaining cruse of oil used for the menorah burned for a “miraculous” eight days (during the re-dedication of the temple). Both Elijah and Elisha “provided oil” for the practical sustenance of their supplicants. One tale relates to oil being used for a spiritual purpose (the temple light), the others for a secular one (food and income). I live in hope that my pot of oil will last for at least “eight days” to get my personal “dedication project” off the ground.

So, I continue to take a “Teresian” approach to my current lifestyle and trust that if God wants me to be a “full-time dedicated contemplative”, He will provide opportunities or strategies for my survival through either inspiration or action.

If I run out of funds, that may be a way of indicating that my personal “cause” is not truly “for the sake of heaven”. I am prepared also to accept that as a possibility. Like David I can say: “If I find favour in God’s eyes, He will restore me and let me see His Dwelling Place…but if He says He is not pleased with me, then I am ready, may He do with me whatever He wills” (II Samuel 15:25).

Or perhaps it would indicate that my time as a Jewish Contemplative on long-term retreat was intended to be temporary all along: if so it would be following a more usual Jewish (and Sufi) pattern.

But no matter what the future may hold, the essence of the “trusting approach” is that whatever human steps we might take to “provide” for ourselves or our communities- God is ultimately the only true “Provider”.

Is this the same attitude that we find in the Haftarah quotation which heads this article, do you think?

“Not by might and not by power but by my Spirit says the Lord”
(Zechariah 4:6)

As I am not a Hebrew scholar I am unable to analyse the precise potential meanings of the words used for “might”, “power” and “spirit” when commenting on this text. But what is clear is that the Zechariah text above certainly suggests that God’s direct or inspired action is real and not imaginary. That it goes beyond what humans can do alone. That Providence is something we ought to put our trust in.

Each year, we read the Joseph narrative during the Hanukah season. People often comment that the tale is not so much a story of man’s relationship with God as one which focuses on family relationships. It does not seem to focus on the notion of “Divine intervention” unless it is to be seen at work through the various dreams. Thanks to a brilliant commentary on Mikeitz by Nehama Leibowitz I can see that this is not really the case. She highlighted that perfectly when she pointed out the emphatic re-iteration in the following verses from Genesis 41:

In verse 25:  “What God is about to do he hath declared to Pharaoh”
In verse 28:  “What God is about to do he hath shown to Pharaoh”
In verse 32:  “and God will shortly bring it to pass”.

Similarly, in the next parshah, Vayigash, we read that though the brothers had sold Joseph into slavery, Joseph ascribed the real authorship of this action to God when he said:

“God has sent me ahead of you to ensure your survival and to save your lives by a great deliverance.”
(Genesis 45:4-7)

The extent to which we should rely on “God’s action” and the extent to which we should rely on “human action” is at the heart of the history of the festival of Hanukah too.

In the festival Haftarah, the menorah vision of Zechariah (Zech.4:3) describes two trees which flank the candelabrum and which provide the oil. One is taken to be Zerubabel- a messiah figure for the secular and physical, and the other is taken to be Joshua - a messiah figure for the priestly and spiritual. They are two complementary forces seen as separate in methods of action but united in purpose.

In the written history of the festival’s origin, the tale of the Maccabees ended up in the Apocrypha and not the Bible. The first book of Maccabees focuses on the Rebel/Zealot movement’s victory which was attained by physical force, while the second book focuses on the ideological cause and martyrdom of the Pietist movement’s faith in the spiritual or supernatural. Again, we see here two very distinct attitudes sharing a common purpose.

They remind me of the way Philo described the contemporary Essenes and Therapeutae of Jewish monasticism as being the “active” and “contemplative” branches of the same Jewish movement. Two ways of expressing a dedicated communal lifestyle.

Perhaps the Haftarah’s message is not so much that action and prayer are complementary but that they both need something else, something more, in order to be “in-spired” - in order to have the “Breath” or “Spirit” of God in them - namely an explicit connection with God Himself. Taking that point of view, the text might be read as:

“Not just by the might of political action
Nor just by the power of spiritual faith
But by the spirit of God which joins them together
in effective and complementary balance.”

In the developing and rather confused history of the festival of Hanukah, it was not so much the Maccabees’ victory or the Pietists’ martyrdom that was placed centre-stage: The rabbis of the Talmud (Shabbat 21b) placed the miracle of the long-lasting oil in that prime position. In doing so they were choosing the “spiritual and miraculous” emphasis. I think that is also the intended meaning of the Haftarah quote. Might and Power are predictable yet fallible. Breath and Spirit, inspiration and revelation, can be wildly unpredictable, but they can sometimes act as their beacon: a ner tamid which lights the way forward. It might also be a beacon which warns of a way not to be taken—and it can, at times, be a reminder of being ever in the present in spiritual constancy.

Despite Jacob’s vow in Genesis 28:20, I do not know to what extent I should rely on God to provide for me, I do not know to what extent we should believe that our prayers have a direct effect on the progress of the cosmos (from assisting our friend’s struggles in illness, to world politics), I do not know to what extent we should fight wars to achieve anything believed to be “good”. Despite choosing to walk a comparatively quietist path, the working out of this “Maccabean enigma” is a work still very much in progress for me, and no doubt for you too.

But I do feel that it is the specific duty of the Dedicated Jewish Contemplative to be the “Joshua”, the “Pietist”, the “Teresian” above all else and to declare explicitly that all is in the hands of heaven. It is unrealistic for anyone to think that all Jews be both Joshua and Zerubabel, some specialisation is both inevitable and beneficial. Both trees feature in the vision that feeds the lamp.

A contemplative’s special task is to pray… and if that is done, it is my hope that “action” will be done: 

by God as a “miracle of inspiration”;
by God through “human hands”;
and
by God through the miracles of His Providence.

As the daily Modim prayer reminds us, those miracles are not confined to the festival of Hanukah but are with us at every moment of every day.

Dec 1 2009

Jewish Asceticism in the Room of Elisha - November 2009

The text of Haftarah Vayera echoes the account of the hospitality of Abraham in the related Torah portion. It describes the guest room built by the Shunamite woman for Elisha, the second “Jewish Carmelite”.

Though quite luxurious by Biblical standards…to us, it might seem to be a perfect description of a monastic cell. No need for a wardrobe for sets of clothes, no need for luxuries, no need for additional decorative objects. Yet it is totally practical and (one hopes) comfortable. Being on the roof…it even had a physical isolation from the rest of the house. Jewish Contemplatives do not seek the asceticism of Christian monks, but we ought to be aware that our real needs are actually very few, that we ought to maintain a simplicity of immediate environment as it encourages an uncluttered approach to our prayer life and daily routines. A simple private room/space is really all we need to sit down and try to talk to and listen to our God. A bookcase would be nice, perhaps. Or maybe the only book we really need is the Torah written on our hearts?

Distractions and diversions can so easily become the “unnecessary furniture” of our internal monastic cells….and keeping that spiritual and psychological cell uncluttered is a never-ending task.

In the Zohar (2:133a) and in the Tales of R.Nachman of Breslov (Tale of the Exchanged Children) this passage in the life of Elisha is treated mystically. The bed, table, chair, and lamp of II Kings 4:10 being related to items in the Mishkan and later Temple. (namely the Ark, the Ark cover/“Throne”, the Table of offering, and the Menorah). In the Zohar passage they are symbols of the Shekinah. In R.Nachman’s tale, the contemplative/tzaddik has to re-adjust the positions of these objects ever so slightly in order to effect tikkun.

It may be significant that, several times, R.Nachman states that the re-adjustment is a slight one: We are small. Anything we do is small next to God. But our tiny actions, our attempts to restore order, peace, harmony, love, hospitality, and generosity into our surroundings are potentially acts of major significance. For a contemplative whose primary field of action is spiritual, this is an act of faith which requires chutzpah to declare, and determination to maintain, day after day.

R.Aryeh Kaplan’s commentary on the “Elisha Room” imagery in R. Nachman’s tale reads: “God created evil in the world, so that the Israelites would be able to rectify it and thus become rulers of creation”. “Rulers of creation” sounds far too grand to me, but if we accept that (a) God created everything, both the things we call good and the things we call evil; and (b) that Man is intended to continue and perfect the work of Creation, then it is possible that we ourselves have been created to effect a sort of balance between gevurah and chesed ...not just by our physical actions, but also by our prayers and indeed by the integrity of the lives of prayer which we aim to lead.

Often we cannot see the results of our prayers. Often we are aware of how selfish and thoroughly unpleasant we can be, and on such days we might fear that our prayers are unacceptable. But if we are true to our professed (and streamlined) claim that we ask “One thing and One thing only…to dwell and meditate in the House of God”….then our small service might not, perhaps, make Israel the “ruler of creation”…but it might be of crucial importance in enthroning God in that “Room of Elisha.”

On this website I have attempted to show that the sort of Jewish neo-monasticism and contemporary Jewish eremitism which I advocate is not new, but that it has roots in Biblical Naziriteship, in Levitical lifestyles and in the Prophetic “schools”-as well as in the monasticism of the Essenes and (more specifically) the Therapeutae. I have indicated that the Biblical models have together inspired many respected Jewish mystics and Hassidim to live as hermits themselves (e.g. Isaac Luria, the Baal Shem Tov, Menachem Mendel of Kotsk) or to form contemplative communities.(e.g. Shalom Sharabi and Kalonymus Kalman Shapira). The Jewish Sufis of the Maimonides dynasty, the celibate “complete ascetics” of Bachya Ibn Pakuda, and the Mussar followers of Joseph Horwitz could also be added to the list.

The principal objection to the restoration or renewal of any such pietist and “ascetic” lifestyles is not so much that they are a minority interest (for inclusivity is very fashionable these days)...but is more often due to a belief that Judaism is a religion which puts action first and that lives exclusively dedicated to religious contemplation/study are regarded (in many denominations) as being selfish escapes or a waste of time and energy. The Venerable Shimon Bar Yohai and the contemplative practitioners in the last paragraph would contest that.

The second most common objection I have come across is that “Judaism” and “Asceticism” simply do not sit well together. Not only does this represent a rather odd neglect to “adopt and adapt” the ascetic Nazir principle and the Levitical model (which are “commanded” in the Torah) into a vibrant twenty-first century format ... it is perhaps quite simply due to an unfair and inaccurate association of asceticism with masochism.  (For another article on this website which examines the history of Jewish asceticism, see HERE)

It is not true to claim that Judaism does not have need of asceticism- but specifically Jewish asceticism consists not so much in physical penance or mortification as being content with what one is given and in streamlining one’s spirituality. The room of Elisha might be taken as a perfect example of such moderating simplicity. It took care of basic needs, was sufficiently comfortable, and yet it “kept things simple” and on an unpretentious scale.

I’d like to look at this idea of “Jewish Asceticism as streamlining” a little more closely with the aid of a passionate Prophet, a master Philosopher and a pragmatic Cat.

In Haftarah Noach, Isaiah (the passionate Prophet) writes:

“Why do you spend money 

On that which is not bread  

Or expend your energy  

On that which does not really benefit you.”

(Isaiah 55:2)

Nobody likes a killjoy- We all love a bit of shopping therapy- but Isaiah is right to ask and we know it.

On my kitchen wall hangs a quote from Moses ben Maimon (the master Philosopher) It reads:

“Our true needs are few in number.

Our superfluous needs are many,  

but the desire to fulfil them is endless”

During my morning coffee in the Supersol Cafetería the other day, I read the latest Garfield cartoon on the back of the newspaper:

In the first frame-a wildly excited John asks a decidedly uninterested Garfield to guess what he is hiding behind his back.

In the second frame a delighted John displays a square piece of wire mesh declaring

“Look what I’ve just bought in the hardware store—all I need now is a hole for it!”

In the third frame Garfield, the pragmatic Cat, thinks dispassionately:  

“The hole, I think, is in his head”.

I have a periodically irresistible habit of dropping into the “Multi-Cien” discount store on the way back up the hill to my hermitage. The shop is so named because everything used to sell at around 100 pesetas (less than a US dollar). Articles are not quite so cheap there these days, but they are still the cheapest one might find locally. You would be surprised (or horrified) at some of the tat I end up buying in the spirit of “John” when forgetful of the clear message in the Isaiah and Maimonides texts. Sometimes I’ve done it because I have found a genuinely useful bargain. Most often I’ve been silly. With my minimal and dwindling funds-very silly. My daily walk down the hill and back is meant to be a silent meditative exercise, but some days on the post-Multi-Cien return climb - I feel like I am carrying Bunyan’s pilgrim-load on my back.

Of course, we have a duty to enjoy and to be grateful for the good fortune we have… just as we have a duty to express this gratitude in the “charity” of acts of social justice. More than that, as Jews we are aware that enjoyment is almost a sacred duty. Spending a little money on our whims and fancies can lift our spirits, and it really can be a noble therapy if applied from time to time. In moderation it is a part of the Jewish celebration of life. But for “a Contemplative”, spending, acquiring, and possessing can so easily become a distraction and a burden.

Misuse of funds and of physical energies is a concern for all Jews. There is an equally tenacious but more clandestine form of “energy dissipation” which the contemplative in particular has to guard against: the creation and cultivation of superfluous Spiritual needs or engaging in Mystical shopping-therapy. The cycle of needless desire and acquisition can be at work there as well.

Studying the thoughts and discoveries of others is one of the ways in which we learn. For Jews the thoughts of our predecessors in mysticism can often be a safeguard and (almost but not quite) a route-map. It is true that we can be temporarily “carried away” into the world of deep prayer whilst engaged in such religious study. Sometimes this can be the very deepest prayer for we are only truly in contemplative prayer when we no longer realise that we are praying.

Similarly, the thoughts of our contemplative contemporaries, both in print and in the blogosphere, are often an exciting and refreshing stimulus to our own development. Quite obviously and laudably, we need to be faithful to our tradition and study the works of those who have gone before us and those who walk with us. But we can overdo this.

How many hours have I spent browsing “religious/spiritual” websites when I should have been standing in receptive prayer? Is it right that a contemplative should spend more time in such study than in undiluted solitary prayer? How often have I put off the hour of prayer by extending time spent on some less viscerally-exposed and stoic activity so that when the time came for Standing- all I had the energy for was a brief liturgical recitation?

I would be the first person to echo the Kotsker Rebbe’s dictum that the hour of prayer should be delayed until sufficient preparation had been made. (He declared that there were no clocks in his community, only souls.) He reminded us that the woodcutter is engaged in his trade even while sharpening his tools—but I still think that the number one distraction of both the aspiring and the experienced contemplative is to be excessively engaged in reading, talking, or writing (!) about spirituality/contemplation when the task at hand is meant to be action not theory. Praying is the MAIN task of the contemplative- but because it can often be demanding, we put it off, we skimp on it, we allow our energies to be spent elsewhere.

At the risk of sounding like a stuck record:

• Contemplation is not about possessing or attaining it is about receiving. 

• It cannot be taught or studied. We only learn by doing it ourselves. 

• Contemplation is not about Me, or Them, or even Us-it is about God. 

• All the contemplative really needs to do is stand still and listen.

• Everything else is commentary.

Jewish asceticism on the contemplative path is a matter of clearing the way for one purpose only: We remove the obstacles our superfluous desires create in order to devote ourselves to God more whole-heartedly. Thus contemplative prayer itself becomes the remedy for the dissipated energy considered in Isaiah 55:2.

I did not notice it until after I had written this article, but the very next verse in Isaiah offers the very remedy I have just been suggesting. In it we read:

“Incline your ear and come to Me.

Hear and your soul shall live.”

(Isaiah 55:3)

But to do that you need to stop reading this and start praying.

October 20 2009

The Joy of Sukkot in the Midst of a Storm - October 2009

For the week-long festival of “Sukkot”, many Jews build a makeshift “sukkah” (shelter) from branches and vegetation in which they live (or just eat) during the festival. This is partly in order to “remember” Israel’s Biblical forty year period in the wilderness. It invites us to trust in the protective “cloud cover” of Divine Providence and to accept that all physical and ideological human “dwellings” are transitory.



The photo above is of my sukkah in Jakarta in 1995. How luxurious and bourgeois it all seems in comparison with the images you will have seen of Indonesia during these recent days of natural disaster. It seems almost callous of us to be building these decorative shelters at a time when so many in the Pacific region have died or are homeless as a result of flood and earthquake. We are not callous. Our "Season of Joy" is part of the remedy which can transform and assist us in times of trial, and though it cannot remove the agony of major tragedy and disaster, it has a message of optimism and equanimity which can temper it.

The Joy which is supposed to characterise this season celebrates a time which was no Nature ramble, or jolly summer-camp vacation. As Rabbi Irving Greenberg wrote in 1988:

“In the desert, the people of Israel met their God, ate the bread of heaven, and followed the pillar of fire. In that same desert, The Amalekites attacked, the water springs were bitter, the Israelites lusted after meat, the flocks were thirsty”.

The Joy of Sukkot is the joy of optimism in all circumstances-the “good” and the “bad”- and it is the fruit of gratitude for whatever we are provided with daily.

How can we feel joy at ANY time when we are aware that there is so much poverty, suffering and cruelty in our broken world? The sukkah in the photo would be a palace to millions of people right now and at any time of year.

For those fulfilling the commandment to build and dwell in a sukkah this particular week of storms and earthquakes, it will surely seem a bitter-sweet event...but coping with the mix of Chesed and Gevurah in creation is to accept reality and to avoid escapism. The message of the Sukkah makes this clear:

We are given a choice... We can moan and grumble when the roof leaks.. or we can try to keep our spirits up and focus on the beauty of the stars we can see through the hole. We can give up the task of re-building when the winds blow the makeshift walls down or we can be optimistic and remember that all we have is temporary anyway....and just plod on with hope.

It is by reflecting on such symbols as the sukkah when we are safe and in "good" circumstances that we can generate the sort of positive outlook that stands people in good stead in times of crisis.

That is all well and good when we are talking about minor domestic difficulties and personal trials, But what use is this to someone whose entire family has just died in a flood, or to someone whose REAL house is now a pile of rubble?

Not much.

Which is why we try to get practical assistance to those who are struggling in the wake of tsunami, flood, and earthquake at the moment. It is why we do whatever we can daily to heal the mess our species is creating. The contemplative believes that prayer has a role to play in this too even though it may not be so readily measured.

Relying on Divine Providence does not mean that we expect magic to be performed on our behalf. Our prayers for the victims of these natural disasters and for those trying to repair the damage are not an attempt to overturn all laws of nature. They are an attempt to generate positive thought and energy, and to make a plea for inspiration and comfort to descend in the hearts of those in the midst of difficult times. Perhaps this is a form of “positive visualisation”, a healing stream of optimism whose beneficial effects we can only hope for. Some of us claim to have experience of the power and effectiveness of such prayer, for others it is a form of hope and trust in God whatever the outcome. All of us can surely see the value of the psychological support effected by solidarity and positive encouragement... and its results are tangible. For me, praying for the needs of others is an extension of this kind of activity.

One thing is certain ...a Jewish Contemplative cannot be an escapist.

Our faith in Divine Providence is not quietism. Our belief that our prayers make a difference is our active community service. Our prayer is meant to encourage and to generate positive and creative events in ourselves and in other people. As the RSGB Yom Kippur prayer book has recently reminded us : Our prayer may not “avert the harsh decree” but it can “transform it”. It may actually give hope to those who have no hope. It may be one of the ways which the "sukkah of God's Presence" is extended over His wild and broken earth.



Oct 1 2009