This week's Torah essay is dedicated to the full and speedy healing of my friend Robert Mich'ael Esformes, who taught me what Yom Kippur is about.
וַיְדַבֵּר יְהוָה אֶל־מֹשֶׁה אַחֲרֵי מוֹת שְׁנֵי בְּנֵי אַהֲרֹן בְּקָרְבָתָם לִפְנֵי־יְהוָה וַיָּמֻתוּ׃ … דַּבֵּר אֶל־אַהֲרֹן אָחִיךָ וְאַל־יָבֹא בְכָל־עֵת אֶל־הַקֹּדֶשׁ מִבֵּית לַפָּרֹכֶת אֶל־פְּנֵי הַכַּפֹּרֶת אֲשֶׁר עַל־הָאָרֹן וְלֹא יָמוּת כִּי בֶּעָנָן אֵרָאֶה עַל־הַכַּפֹּרֶת׃
Eternally Present spoke to Moses after the death of Aaron's two sons when they drew too close before the Presence and died... Tell your brother Aaron that he is not to come at will into the Shrine... lest he die...
Leviticus 16:1-2
Don't come too close or you will die like Aaron's sons Nadav and Avihu. The sons died as if they became the Yom Kippur sacrifices they were being trained to perform. Torah leaves it to us, as life leaves it to us, to make meaning of what happened, of what pulls us, why children die and how we face the inevitability of death.
In his book Advice on Dying, the Dalai Lama writes: “It is crucial to be mindful of death — to contemplate that you will not remain long in this life. If you are not aware of death, you will fail to take advantage of this special human life that you have already attained. It is meaningful since, based on it, important effects can be accomplished."
I'm imagining Aaron's sons as teenagers, drawn to fully experiment with new found freedom, to go all the way, not quite mastering the discernment of where the edge between life and death is. After their death, Eternally Present gives Moses and Aaron the warning not given to their sons: this matter of life and death is beyond your will. The crossing over point from life to death is beyond the will of humans.
Perhaps the spiritual rituals into which Nadav and Avihu were initiated as young priests were so powerful that they lost connection to their embodiment. This reminds me of the pilgrimage in the footsteps of the Indian guru Ramana Maharshi I took in India many years ago. Our group of seekers climbed up to a small cave on the side of Arunachala Mountain in Tamil Nadu, South India. We crowded together to meditate where Ramana had sat in bliss, not aware that rats were nibbling at his feet.
The power in the cave was so strong that I felt pulled to a level of divine bliss that transcended all awareness of my body. This power moved many of us, pulled us to its fire of concentration and submission into a state of bliss. We left the suffering all around us in India, children missing limbs and women in tattered saris, who climbed the mountain with us, begging on their way.
The next morning, I rose before dawn to circumambulate the mountain. A woman again accosted me and I handed her a five rupee note. She looked at the note sadly, and then at me, gesturing toward her worn sari. I looked at her face and saw Ramana's face looking back at me. Stunned, I gave her much more money and stumbled away, realizing that Ramana's bliss state was a state of embodiment that I didn't understand.
An ideal of mystical experience pulls us. And Life, the Creative Energy of the Universe, pulls us back. For me, this pull often shows up as a sense of responsibility to caring for life. For this encounter with life that has been freely given to me. The Eternal in Torah puts it this way: merging into the bliss, transcending physical existence, isn't in harmony with how we are in this rotation of being, it is “unauthorized.”
And yet, living without touching the mystery at the center of our existence would be, for me, dry and barren. I look to Torah for insight into how to touch the mysterious forces of being and non being, without burning up.
This is what God showed Moses on the mountain of the burning bush, the first recorded enlightenment experience of the greatest prophet of Israel.
Burn with the fire, the passion, of awakening. But do not be consumed by it.
There IS work to be done here.
There is a spiritual purpose you are here to fulfill.
This week's Torah portion details the ritual of Yom Kippur as a way to come close to death without giving up on life.
Yom Kippur
וְהָיְתָה לָכֶם לְחֻקַּת עוֹלָם בַּחֹדֶשׁ הַשְּׁבִיעִי בֶּעָשׂוֹר לַחֹדֶשׁ תְּעַנּוּ אֶת־נַפְשֹׁתֵיכֶם וְכָל־מְלָאכָה לֹא תַעֲשׂוּ הָאֶזְרָח וְהַגֵּר הַגָּר בְּתוֹכְכֶם׃
And this shall be to you a law for all time: In the seventh month, on the tenth day of the month, you shall practice self-denial; and you shall do no manner of work, neither the citizen nor the alien who resides among you.
כִּי־בַיּוֹם הַזֶּה יְכַפֵּר עֲלֵיכֶם לְטַהֵר אֶתְכֶם מִכֹּל חַטֹּאתֵיכֶם לִפְנֵי יְהוָה תִּטְהָרוּ׃
For on this day atonement shall be made for you to cleanse you of all your sins; you shall be clean before the LORD.
שַׁבַּת שַׁבָּתוֹן הִיא לָכֶם וְעִנִּיתֶם אֶת־נַפְשֹׁתֵיכֶם חֻקַּת עוֹלָם׃
It shall be a sabbath of complete rest for you, and you shall practice self-denial; it is a law for all time.
Leviticus 16:29-31
This Day of Atonement, later called Yom Kippur, is a Shabbat of Shabbat; a rest from our habitual ways of passing work-free time. The Shabbat of Shabbat is a day of nullification of the pleasures of the physical that we enjoy on Shabbat. It is often described as a rehearsal of our death, a day when we refrain from what we associate with embodied life and let go of every trapping of this life that is available to us.
How close can we get to a complete letting go of what we hold as important, in a way that moves us closer to living in the image of the divine we choose?
This is what my friend Robert showed me as we entered the Yom Kippur tent in Woodstock, New York. He asked me what my intentions were for this Yom Kippur? I answered something like, “Letting go of vows I've made to myself that haven't been serving me.” And he said, “Can you let go of that too?”
Let go of letting go. Let go of knowing. Truly step into not-knowing. What will open up for us when we do that? This is coming closer to what the Buddhists call Emptiness. Thich Nhat Hanh translates emptiness as the fertile void. It's not nothingness. It's full of possibility.
Yom Kippur, the day of self denial, the Shabbat of Shabbats is ritualized to give us an experience of nullification in the midst of our lives. The custom on Shabbat is to prepare the special meal of the week; to sit in the most comfortable seats in the house, use the finest dishes, dress in one's finest clothing. But the Shabbat of Yom Kippur is a Shabbat of Shabbat. On Yom Kippur, many religious people wear the kittle, the ritual clothing they will wear when they are buried. This is a Shabbat of Shabbats.
Many religious communities save Shabbat for the day of physical love-making. Shabbat is the day reserved for drinking wine and having desserts. On Shabbat we host when we can and share our bounty.
But Yom Kippur, the Shabbat of Shabbats, the Shabbat Shabbaton, is completely different. It is the nullification of all the usual trimmings of Shabbat. No food, no sex, no special place settings, no wearing of leather, no hosting. Many people, on Yom Kippur, don't look in the mirror or brush their teeth. In many of these ways, Yom Kippur resembles the Jewish mourning rituals after the loss of a loved one.
Thich Nhat Hanh might say that Yom Kippur is a day tailored to take us beyond the concepts of birth and death. Nirvana, the state of freedom described in the Buddhist practice, means the extinguishing of all concepts, including concepts such as birth and death.
This is what is offered to us on the day of Yom Kippur. It is a day when fear of judgment and awe of the magnificence of the gift of life merge. And it, like Shabbat, is one day. It is meant to refresh and inspire us to value our daily life and the work of caring for others.
The Work of Caring for Others
וַיְדַבֵּר יְהוָה אֶל־מֹשֶׁה לֵּאמֹר׃
Eternally Present spoke to Moses, saying:
דַּבֵּר אֶל־בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וְאָמַרְתָּ אֲלֵהֶם אֲנִי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵיכֶם׃
Speak to the Israelite people and say to them: I am the Ever Present Formless, I am your God.
כְּמַעֲשֵׂה אֶרֶץ־מִצְרַיִם אֲשֶׁר יְשַׁבְתֶּם־בָּהּ לֹא תַעֲשׂוּ וּכְמַעֲשֵׂה אֶרֶץ־כְּנַעַן אֲשֶׁר אֲנִי מֵבִיא אֶתְכֶם שָׁמָּה לֹא תַעֲשׂוּ וּבְחֻקֹּתֵיהֶם לֹא תֵלֵכוּ׃
You shall not copy the practices of the land of Egypt where you dwelt, or of the land of Canaan to which I am taking you; nor shall you follow their laws.
אֶת־מִשְׁפָּטַי תַּעֲשׂוּ וְאֶת־חֻקֹּתַי תִּשְׁמְרוּ לָלֶכֶת בָּהֶם אֲנִי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵיכֶם׃
My rules alone shall you observe, and faithfully follow My laws: I the Ever Present Formless, am your God.
Leviticus 18:1-4
When my own contemplation of a Torah portion doesn't open up a channel of wisdom and inspiration for caring for others, I turn to the Hasidic Rabbis, the rabbis of my great grandparents. In their writings, such as the Book of Truth by the 19th century Rabbi of Ger, I find worlds of direct channels to deeper meanings of life and the Torah. The Rabbi says of this passage that in all of our deeds, we must make a radical separation from how we have lived before. If we truly want to survive and thrive in this world, we need to find inspiration within ourselves for building societies that embody our beautiful visions and values. This requires a radical change from how we have been living so far.
In the days before the November 2020 election a neighbor, one whom I had assumed shared my views, told me she had switched from being a Democrat to Republican because of the "anarchy" in Portland. I felt aghast and lost my voice. She said, what would you do if "they" were demonstrating in front of your house and said you had no right to live there.
I had no answer because I know that, on many levels, I live in the house built on the land of the Cherokee and Choctaw people. I live in the house where the bears and woodchucks lived long before. I live in the house purchased with wealth accumulated on the backs of African-Americans. I live in the house where the grounds are attended to by Central American immigrants who pay taxes and don't have access to voting, drivers’ licenses or a deep night's sleep for fear of the ICE Gestapo raiding their homes in the middle of the night, or the factories and restaurants where they work during the day.
So I stood there taking in her question, “What would I do if other people came to claim my house?” I have no answer.
And what will I do when "they" come to take my car because mother earth is sinking beneath our cars? And what did I do, what was in my heart, when I fled my flooded house in the Hudson Valley that had been built on wetlands before we understood global warming? And when "they" come to take people's guns because after the schools reopen we will again have to worry about mass school shootings. Do we even remember the horror of that?
So perhaps one way of making deep meaning of these Torah passages is to recognize that fear, aversion and judgment live in me. And that the radical change I am sure needs to happen if we are to survive and transition into a society and world that reflect our higher consciousness, will only come about when I am willing to give up many of the very things I rely on and identify with. Nothing will change if I ignore or turn away.
In Tony Kushner's play, Angels in America, Louis runs away from his lover, Prior. Prior's body is wasting away from AIDS. When Louis wants to come back, Prior says to him, “You cry, but you endanger nothing in yourself.”
Our practice is to ask ourselves, what do I need to endanger in myself so that I can be a participant in the transformation to a glorious human occupation of our planet.
Offensive Rules
וְאֶת־זָכָר לֹא תִשְׁכַּב מִשְׁכְּבֵי אִשָּׁה תּוֹעֵבָה הִוא׃
Do not lie with a male as one lies with a woman; it is an abhorrence.
Leviticus 18:22
This Torah passage goes on to prohibit behavior that I myself have marched in the streets of New York to protect. How do I engage with a passage that calls men laying with men an "abomination?" How do I engage with the many passages in Torah that have led to deaths, suffering, lost years, the human social structures of domination and distraction.
How do I encounter this Torah passage and ones that are a struggle, which, if I am honest, are an abomination, for me? How can I cull any wisdom from the homophobia, violence, misogyny, triumphalism and xenophobia in Torah without using other people's suffering as a tool for my own learning?
Wrestling with ancient gods, el in Torah, is the nature of being an Israelite. The word Yisra’el means one who wrestles with an ancient God. As I encounter these painful passages in Torah, I come face-to-face with a hard truth: that the evolutionary leap I want human society to take from homophobia, violence, misogyny, triumphalism and xenophobia, will not come without painful process. If we are to be affected to our essence, like Jacob, we will limp away from our wrestling with the shadows.
So I engage with the prohibition on homosexual love in this Torah passage by wrestling with it. One challenge is to do this without using other peoples' suffering for my own spiritual elevation. I want the simmud, the steadfastness as my Palestinian colleagues call it, to face the suffering of others and also to engage with my own suffering.
The spiritual traditions address this by offering practices to face fear and aversion. We approach this from the "inside" and from the "outside."
From inside and outside ourselves, the practice is to come face to face, panin a panim, with the effects and impacts of our thoughts, beliefs and actions. As individuals and as a collective we must learn how to look deeply at what it is and understand the impact of our ways on other people and society.
My friend Sita Losoff told me a powerful experience she had with Buddhist teacher Pema Chodron. Pema was teaching the Tibetan Buddhist Tonglen practice to a group of mostly Anglo North Americans. Tonglen is a practice where we so embody compassion and the path of relieving suffering that we make ourselves a channel to breathe others' suffering into our bodies, and then breathe it out as suffering-transformed-into-love. One of the students asked Pema, but what if you really breathe in the suffering? And Pema replied, then you are lucky.
When I breathe in the suffering embedded in difficult Torah passages, can I transition from being merely an observer to being a participant in the transformation to a world that embraces all forms of love?
Not Turning Away
I recently watched a beautiful video from my hometown of Brooklyn that brings us face to face with how homophobic thinking and laws have affected the lives of people who survived and thrived:
Credit: Not Another Second: LGBT+ seniors share their stories
We live in a world where at our fingertips we can seek out videos to help us take in the experiences of everyone in our world. By using all the tools available to us to get proximate to each other, new understanding and connection.
In Buddhist vows I have taken, we practice Awareness of Suffering:
Aware that looking deeply at the nature of suffering can help us develop understanding and compassion, we are determined to come home to ourselves, to recognize, accept, embrace and listen to suffering with the energy of mindfulness. We will do our best not to run away from our suffering or cover it up through consumption, but practice conscious breathing and walking to look deeply into the roots of our suffering. We know we can only find the path leading to the transformation of suffering when we understand the roots of our suffering. Once we have understood our own suffering, we will be able to understand the suffering of others. We are committed to finding ways, including personal contact and using telephone, electronic, audio-visual, and other means, to be with those who suffer, so we can help them transform their suffering into compassion, peace, and joy.
—From the Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings of the Order of Interbeing
Looking Deeply Inside Myself
Not turning away includes, of course, looking deeply at what arises within me. I want to understand myself so I have greater agency over my actions in the world. And also so I can live in this world in a deeper ongoing communion with the Oneness and interconnectedness that is truly who I am.
Thus I find deep meaning and value in engaging with aversion as it lives and arises in me. I want to learn how to stand face-to-face with others in my community and the world whose views and manner of expressing them are scary and horrifying to me. I also completely honor the choices people make to turn away from Torah and find other sources for truth and guidance. I completely honor the parts in me that want to do that.
I especially use Nonviolent Communication to bathe myself with empathy when I choose to turn away from certain conversations and people. In those choices, I want to trust that when I choose to turn away, I am doing it to bring more peace, care and safety, into the world. Into a world that is starved for peace, care and safety. Not just "my" peace, "my" care. That I am channeling the energy of what wants to live more in our world, of what the world needs to come alive.
Other times, I choose to engage in conversations across divides. This is a way for me to be in service of the nonviolent revolution that I believe we need. I want to develop my capacity to face difficult passages in Torah and difficult views in the world. And still stand firmly in my belief that this Torah does not advocate violence and hatred toward LGBTQ, women, other peoples and nations. That in fact it is giving us a blueprint for creating a world that embraces all form and connects each of us back to the same source of Oneness.
Some Helpful Principles to having a Conversation Using Nonviolent Conversations
- You are doing what you are doing ( including entering into a conversation) to meet your own needs. You are not doing this “for them.”
- The more you know and value your own needs, the more clarity, compassion and empowerment will show up in your words and actions.
- The purpose of NVC is to connect, not to be “right,” not to prove the other “wrong," not to fix, educate, punish or improve the other person.
- Self-Investigate: what are you telling yourself the other person “is” ? Images, stories, diagnoses? Do your own inner work to translate your judgments about them into your own feelings and needs.
- Honesty in NVC is not telling the other person what’s wrong with them. You share how you feel because of what you need/value/long for.
- When you listen and reflect back, doing so with curiosity is crucial. When curiosity is alive, there is no notion of enemy or wrongness.
- We all share the same needs. Conflict does not arise between needs. Conflict only arises with the strategies we choose to meet our needs.
- Thought is life making meaning of life and is a door to feelings and needs. Listen with curiosity and empathy for the feelings, needs, meaning, intelligence and experiences that generate the thoughts.
- Use connecting requests to find out if the other person is hearing blame, shame, anger, punishment. Ask for a do-over, without those elements.
- Make problem solving requests that meet your needs without preventing others from meeting their needs. Mourn, share your disappointment and ask for help when you don’t know how to do that.
- If you hear a “no, find out the needs behind the “no” and partner to find a way to meet everyone’s needs.
Recreation
By Audre Lorde
Coming together
it is easier to work
after our bodies
Meet
paper and pen
neither care nor profit
whether we write or not
but as your body moves
under my hands
charged and waiting
we cut the leash
you create me against your thighs
hilly with images
moving through our word countries
my body
writes into your flesh
the poem
you make of me.
Touching you I catch midnight
as moon fires set in my throat
I love you flesh into blossom
I made you
and take you made
into me.
Audre Lorde, “Recreation” from The Collected Poems of Audre Lorde. Copyright © 1997 by Audre Lorde. Reprinted with the permission of Charlotte Sheedy Literary Agency and W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., www.nortonpoets.com.