Boulder Aish Kodesh

We cannot understand what life was like before Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge.  Since we, as the human race, have collectively partaken from that Tree, its aftertaste inevitably colors our perception.  Though we are capable of momentarily transcending the polarities  - pure and impure, forbidden and permitted, kosher and not-kosher, etc - introduced by Knowledge, these are but moments from which most of us return.  Perhaps before we collectively ate, all life was a seamless experience of transcendence from which we needn’t have returned.

Before we ate from the tree, our task was to resist the urge to do so, and to instead attach ourselves to the Tree of Life.  Once the element of polarity was introduced through the Tree of Knowledge, however, our task is no longer to reach for the Tree of Life.   Thus Hashem says Himself: “‘Behold, the man has become like one of us, knowing good and bad.  And now, he [might] send forth his hand and take also from the Tree of Life, and eat, and live forever.” And G-d placed, to the east of the Garden of Eden, the cherubs and the ‘flaming fluctuating sword’ to guard the way to the tree of Knowledge.’  G-d knows it would no longer be to our advantage to partake of the Tree of Knowledge, so the path to that tree is guarded.

Why does G-d not want us to partake of the Tree of Life?  It must be that a pure immersion in Life requires a purity of intention and action.  Whereas once we were living without having to think and choose, because good – not eating from the tree of life - and bad – eating from the tree – were clearly marked opposites, this time of innocence is over.  Having eaten from the tree, good and bad are mixed together, and the lines of differentiation within every object and situation are not at all clear.  So to immerse in life, carefree and unencumbered by the need to think, choose, and decide, would be quite harmful.  Such a life could be called ‘life’, but it would leave destruction to self, others, and world in its wake.

Now, in order to partake of the life-ingredient that was once so distinct, it must be separated from the death-ingredient contained within the very same object.  The Tree of Life is hidden within the Tree of Knowledge.  In order to see clearly the ingredient of ‘good’ that is in the mixture, we must use our intellectual capacities.  Therefore, ironically, the Tree we ate from becomes its own fixing.  Now that Knowledge has been introduced, it is a necessity to use knowledge in the process of fixing.

But Knowledge is distance.  In order to determine the ‘good’ within a person, object, or situation, we must stand at arm’s length and look.  Once we have properly looked and decided, we can fully partake of the life-ingredient within it.  In the larger scheme, our lives are broken into two types of time – time spent looking and time spent partaking.  Neither one, in and of itself, can now be called ‘life’.

This is why the ‘path to the Tree of Life’ is protected by an ‘fluctuating sword’.  The sword keeps us aware that we can never really reach the Tree of Life anymore.  Any time we feel we are truly living, we are reminded that there is more life to be had, and we must step away in order to learn how to access that deeper sense of life.  And if we should step away and arrive at the perfect formula for life, we are reminded that what we have is not life, but an abstract of life.  The sword reminds us of the rhythm of life, as we now know it – back and forth between learning and living.

The point of life, therefore, has become not the attainment of the tree of life, but the ability to walk constantly on the path to the tree of life.  This path takes us through revolving moments – thriving then struggling, knowing and then not knowing, learning and then teaching, being and becoming.  The more we become accustomed to this rhythm, the more we learn to stop fighting it, to stop expecting life to ‘normalize’, the more we realize that our momentary enlightenments will not last, when we cease to mourn at their loss, when we cease to be surprised that a day of success is followed by a day of challenges, then we are truly in life as it is meant to be lived.

We are encouraged to recognize that each of these types of time has a distinct nature.  Rebbe Nachman, drawing on imagery from Ezekiel I, calls them ratzo vashov – literally translated as ‘going and returning’. Ratzo is characterized in Rebbe Nachman’s writings as inspired movement toward, or within, a new and higher way of being. Shov is the integration of that new way into normal life. Ratzo would be an experience of the Tree of Life – it has meaning in itself.  It is an experience of life. Shov, on the other hand, feels distant from life, because it requires integrating the ‘life’ experienced during ratzo into what was left behind in order to enter ratzo.

For example, Shabbat calls us to a deeper level of Life, transmitted through the extra soul we receive.  On Shabbat, we experience godliness through eating, sexuality, and relaxation. Each of these is elevated to higher level.  We are also afforded the opportunity to learn Torah.  When Shabbat ends, however, the extra soul leaves, and we are left with only the impressions from those experiences of holy eating, sexuality, and relaxation.  That impression, however, calls our attention to the fact that these acts can occur on a higher level.  But to make our weekday eating like our Shabbat eating requires integration of the insight gained on Shabbat into the weekday consciousness.  And in so doing, we may find many barriers to that integration.  We are left, therefore, with two ways that are at odds with each other, and, since they are both important to us, the clashing of the two leaves us with a feeling of being ‘outside of life’, ‘not in the flow’, etc.  Our task is to work through the incongruity and to achieve that integration.  Then, our everyday existence will have more ‘Life’ in it.

A similar situation occurs through history.  Our short but meaningful time in the Garden gave us a sense of the fullness of Life.  Our job through history is to realize that Eden-like existence on earth – to make the world more Eden-like.  There are special times – Shabbat, holidays, ecstatic ritual and dance, etc. – that remind of that feeling of being truly In Life.  But the moments fade - and it is proper that the moments fade.  They are essential guideposts toward that ultimate goal, but the goal cannot be achieved by escaping life.  The goal can only be achieved by making life into Life.

We must therefore learn how be in each mode.  The mode of being must be experienced with full presence and devotion.  It is its own reward.  The mode of becoming – the Tree of Knowledge – is a time of work.  With proper focus, it is also its own reward.  An appropriate metaphor is the life of a musician.  Performance time is not the time to practice one’s scales or work on new techniques – it is time to be fully present with other musicians, the audience, the moment.  But the time of practice is best used to enhance one’s skills and abilities.  But during practice, one is not concerned with ‘sounding good’ – one is concerned with learning.

As we learn to see what mode we are in, we can avoid the trappings of misplaced expectations.  We can appropriately shift between left-brain and right-brain consciousness – brain and heart, logic and poetry, male and female, giving and receiving.  We can embrace the particular moment, stand in proper posture toward the moment with appropriate tools in hand, and receive from the moment what good it has to give us.

As we progress we see the absolute necessity of each phase.  We come to see the shov phase as equal in import to the phase of ratzo.  We come to recognize the deep truth of the Talmud’s statement[1] ‘a person does not stand on words of Torah until he trips on them.’  That is to say, there is a time to experience a new way of being (Tree of Life) which is, in a sense, a gift.  When that gift is taken away, there is an absence, a perceived lack of guidance.  That time, which could be experienced as abandonment, is actually an essential moment when the quality of that ‘time of experience’ can be ‘learned’ and internalized, and need no longer be a gift.

When this is accomplished, and a person seamlessly experiences the different types of time that life provides as a continuous experience of closeness to G-d, then that person is truly on the ‘path to the Tree of Life’, moving with the rhythm of the fluctuating sword, never expecting any kind of stabilization from without, but in the ability to move with sword, a sense of internal stabilization is accomplished.  However, one should never think that one has reached true stability – that sword has many tricks stored away, and is always capable of undercutting any sense of stability with a new and deeper challenge.

***

Rebbe Natan of Breslov tells us that Noah’s primary shortcoming was his inability to engage the places that were not clearly holy.  This manifested itself in the fact that he did not see ‘that it was possible to go out, and to bring himself down into the world and to look upon the wicked people [of his generation] and to involve himself with them, attempting to find some merit in them, and to pray for them, and to attempt to arouse them through some good point.’  Therefore, says Rebbe Natan, ‘he wsa forced to enter the Ark, and to hide himself there in order to be saved.  For the Ark of Noah was built and assembled with very high wisdom and holiness…  therefore his entry into the ark was the aspect of ratzo, because he could not save himself along with the world, which is the aspect of shov.’  Therefore, as Rebbe Natan continues, ‘just as Noah had to be commanded to enter the Ark, he had to be commanded to leave the Ark.  For leaving the ark is shov…’

There is obviously a time to enter the Ark, and a time to leave the Ark.  It is essential to when to enter and when to exit, and it is essential to know what to do when one is in or out.  As is known, the word for Ark – teivah – is also the word for ‘word’.  And it is also know that the dimensions of the Ark – 30X300X50 – correspond to the numerical value of the letters lamed-shin-nun, which is tongue-language.  Many of the Chassidic rebbes chose this Parsha to discuss issues of prayer[2]. Ratzo – the entrance into the ark, is an entrance into the ‘word’ itself, a time to be immersed in prayer and potential.  This time of day, or time of year, or time of a person’s life, is essential, as prayer is the means of introducing potential into the world[3].  While that potential requires other investments of time and energy in order to be realized, it is the essential first ingredient.  Therefore, a person’s time of prayer should not be dismissed as inactive or irrelevant, and a person should spend the time when he is praying truly praying, with imagination and life.

But there will be a time to stop praying and to act.  At that moment, one must shift from the ‘voice of Ya’akov’ to the ‘hands of Eisav’.  It is far easier, however, to dream and speak than it is to do.  Therefore Noach is reluctant to leave the Ark.

Noach’s time in the Ark was preceded by an extended time of doing.  We are told that it took him 120 years to build the Ark.  The reason given is that it would provide an opportunity to tell curious onlookers that G-d would soon flood the world, and they should repent.  Another way to look at it is that it gave Noach 120 years to seek and find the goodness in the people of his generation and to pray for them.  But Noach did not take that opportunity.  Instead he ‘did exactly as G-d commanded him.’

Whereas Avraham’s life was characterized by a capacity to pass tests, Noach was not shown to have passed any such tests.  The very definition of a test, writes the Me’or Einayim, is that all clarity is gone, and one is left only with choice.  If one knows clearly what one has to do – by G-d’s command, for example, it is not a test.  G-d told Noach to build the Ark.  Noach built the Ark.  But in G-d’s telling Noach to build the Ark for 120 years, hidden in that command was a test: see your generation and pray for them.  We know that Moshe, when Hashem told him of his intentions to destroy the Jewish people, stood up and said, ‘since the matter is dependent upon me, I will pray for them[4].’  Similarly, Hashem told Avraham of His plans to destroy Sodom, stood and said, ‘will you destroy the righteous with the wicked?’  Noach, however, did not perceive it is a test, but as a command.

Much of the challenge of a test is realizing that it is in fact a test.  When Hashem speaks, it is very tempting to merely listen and obey.  But there are often moments when Hashem commands merely to see if we are paying attention.  For example, the Torah says ‘an eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth.’  In the Gemarra[5] the sages see that it is impossible that Hashem intended that we blind a person who has blinded another.  Why, then, did Hashem put it in the Torah?  A similar question might be asked about the wayward and rebellious son, who was essentially legislated out of existence.  It seems that Hashem wants us to be invested enough in our common project of Life on Earth to speak up when a commandment runs at odds with our intuitive sense of right and wrong.

As we move along the path of the Tree of Life, any particular posture or attitude might be absolutely necessary at one moment, and become a test at the next moment.  Just as Noach was commanded to enter the ark but had to be commanded to leave, we are often afforded places of refuge from the turbulent waters of the ‘outside world’, but there is a crucial moment when refuge becomes avoidance.  Similarly, there is a time when our potential runs out, and it is time to immerse again in prayer in order to renew that potential.  It is difficult when the sword turns again – there are always barriers to changing direction.  But this is the work of the path of the Tree of Life.

Avraham’s gift for recognizing the test and moving through it is indicated by the name of the Parsha – Lech L’cha.  As Rebbe Nachman says, a person must be an expert in halacha. Halacha shares three distinct and overlapping meanings – to walk, the body of Jewish law, and the spiritual back-and-forth characterized by ratzo vashov.  That expertise in walking is the capacity to walk one way and then the other way – lech lech.

We are constantly being tested and tempted – tested as to whether we have the courage to move into deeper levels of relationship to Hashem, and tempted to think we have reached the end.    Avraham, as we know, was tested – and tempted – ten times.  The Rambam lists them:  to leave his homeland, to leave Canaan because of the famine, the violence the Egyptians committed by taking Sarah into Pharoah’s palace, fighting the war of the four kings versus the five, having to take Hagar as a wife, having to circumcise himself, the King of Gerar’s taking Sarah, having to chase away Hagar, sending Yishmael away, a and the binding of Yitzhak.  Rashi lists them differently, including Nimrod throwing him into the furnace and having to be shown the future exile of his descendents.  Rabbeinu Yonah includes the ordeal of burying Sarah.

Each of these tests represents a paradigm change for Avraham in terms of understanding himself, his G-d, and his mission.  And each test contains within it a microcosm of the pattern of ratzo vashov.  For example, being tossed into Nimrod’s furnace is Avraham’s first experience of being moser nefesh – being willing to sacrifice one’s own life for the sake of G-d.  As he moves toward that initial experience, it is an entirely new thing.  He is being shown a new way to serve G-d.  He has no experience of such a level; he knows only that he must do it.  After he has done it – ratzo – he must learn how to integrate that experience into his life.  It was not a singular experience; he will now be expected to be moser nefesh throughout his life.  He must now learn how to manifest that level lof devotion to G-d in every one of his actions.

Similarly, Avraham was given the opportunity to pray for the people of Sodom.  As R’ Shlomo Carlebach said in the name of the Zohar, Avraham was the first to discover the possibility of prayer – of praying that G-d change a present reality.  He therefore moved toward that first argumentative prayer with trepidation – it was unprecedented.  No one could guarantee that it would ‘work’.  But his very being was drawn toward the moment in a clear ratzo.  Immediately thereafter, he was expected to integrate that moment into his normal life.  We are therefore told[6] that this was the first of Avraham’s morning prayers, which he established as regular practice.

The rhythm of life is aspiration and integration.  Each step is the gift of a new way to be.  But each step must be integrated before the next step is taken.  For tests repeat themselves.  Avraham is challenged to separate from Lot.  This was most certainly difficult for Avraham, who clearly loved his nephew, but he was able to overcome the difficulties.  Later he is expected to let go of Yishmael and Hagar – he must tap into his integrated ability to let go of people who are important to him for the sake of his mission.  The final test, to let go of Yitzhak, calls on the strength gained by those previous tests.

In Chaye Sarah, we find what Rabbeynu Yonah calls Avraham’s tenth test: burying his wife.  Mysteriously, after the ordeal of buying the land, that ‘Avraham is old, coming into his days, and Hashem blessed Avraham bekol – with everything.’  The Gemarra Baba Batra 16a tells us that there were three people over whom the yetzer harah had no control: Avraham, Yitzhak, and Ya’akov.  The proof for Avraham comes from this verse – he was blessed ‘with everything’.

We may understand this in context of Rebbe Nachman’s definition of yetzer harah – in L.M. I:49, he explains that yetzer connotes the word ‘yotzer’ – to form.  Rebbe Nachman writes that we form the world and its contents by our thoughts.  The yetzer tov, therefore, is how we make the world through positive thinking.  The yetzer harah is the opposite.  When one has conquered the yetzer harah, one does not project negative thoughts onto anything.  Therefore one is blessed with ‘everything’ – everything in the world becomes a conduit for relationship to G-d.

Thus, when Sarah dies, though Avraham cries and eulogizes her, he does not have negative thoughts.  He is able to experience her death as another connection to G-d.  Difficult feelings as well as pleasant ones are equal connections to G-d.  This is similar to the mathematical concept of absolute value, whereby –5 and +5 have the same absolute value of 5.  So, too, at this point in Avraham’s life – particularly after the near-sacrifice of his son Yitzhak – every experience ‘good’ or ‘bad’, is serves equally as a connection to G-d.

Thus, at this moment, Avraham has reached the level of being an expert in ratzo vashov.  The ultimate goal of this process is to reach a point where neither one is preferred and both can be done with equal joy.  Even with the death of Sarah, Avraham can remain attached to G-d.  He has passed the final test.

It is intriguing that, with this achievement of equanimity, Avraham moves away from center stage.  His remaining acts are to find a wife for his son Yitzhak, and to have more children, none of whom takes center stage in the drama of Israel.  The Parsha even reports his death. Even though w are told that he does not die until the day Eisav sells Ya’akov his birthright.

It seems that the central player in the drama of Israel must still be on the path to the tree of Life, still subject to the fluctuating sword.  When one reaches that equanimity one’s role shifts from prime mover to source of wisdom.  Avraham prays to be given a white beard, to distinguish him from Yitzhak. Ben Yehoyada writes that Avraham, at this point, had reached the level of Atik.  We are told that Hashem ‘appears as an old man with a white beard’ at certain points, and ‘as a young warrior’ at certain points.  At this point Yitzhak is the warrior, fighting toward tikkun of the world, and Avraham is on the sidelines, sustaining the world through his prayer but not entering into the fray.

There are four essential transitions that happen through the process of ratzo vashov – malchut to netzach-hod-yesod to chesed-gevurah-tiferet to chochmah-binah-da’at to keter, which also carriers a nature of ratzo vashov in the form of matei velo matei.  Each of these transitions consists of a ratzo vashov cycle that culminates in a third stage – a full recognition of the absolute value of each turn on the sword.

Most of us are stuck on yesod­ which might best be described as capacity for relationship.  Until we come to realize the give (netzach) and take (hod) of relationship, we will not have access even to the level called ch-g-t.  The Piazetzna rebbe, in the intro to Hachsharat HaAvreichim, brings the Zohar that states that the level of ruach is only available to one who has perfected nefesh.  Thus, our lives are characterized by back and forth in relationship.  Were that perfected, we would experience our ratzo vashov as internal - ‘what and how and to whom should I give?’

Another way to look at is that, being still on the level of nefesh, we are still trying to clarify our animal nature.  The level of nefesh concerns meeting one’s basic needs – survival.  The clarification of nefesh in terms of relationship concerns survival as a distinct entity within the relationship.  Whereas we are always in danger of becoming enmeshed and losing singular identity, we fight for what we perceive to be freedom: independence.  But independence and self-sufficiency are often confused.  It is quite possible – preferable, even – to be ‘independent’ while having deep need for another.  The difference between need and enmeshment is that one’s healthy need comes about because of clarification of personality.  In deep knowledge of self, one can come to see ‘I am good at x and y, but I need help with z, and I need this person for their z.’

While struggling for healthy boundaries in relationship, there are two primary dangers: the desire to dominate, and the desire to give in.  Neither will result in a healthy relationship, and therefore neither can lead to an ascent toward ch-g-t and ruach.

One must therefore experience ratzo vashov in general and in specific in order to master the balance between netzach and hod, which is yesod.  One might experience this as the dynamic between positive netzach – stepping forward when necessary in a powerful and assertive way, and negative netzach – unnecessarily dominating.  Or one might experience it as the tension between positive hod – the ability to step back in order to recognize the beauty in another, and negative hod – conceding space because it is easier than stepping up.  The relationship stabilizes when a person ‘gets’ the dance – when he or she knows how the other moves and can move in a complimentary fashion.  The tension between Netzach and hod is the necessary fluctuation of the path to the tree of life. Yesod, the balance between that lies in the middle line of the sefirotic chart between netzach and hod, represents the Tree of life itself[7].

The desired synthesis of n-h-y is shalom, which is a word often used to describe yesod.  Tanhuma on Toldot brings an important Midrash that states the importance of shalom: when Sarah became pregnant, everyone thought the father must have been Avimelech or Pharaoh.   Tanhuma tells us that Avraham also suspected this in his heart (which is shocking, but extremely clarifying).  Hashem told the angel in charge of the form of the baby to make the child look exactly like Avraham. We had thought that this was to dispel with the suspicions of everyone else, but it was actually for the sake of Avraham.  And we also might have thought that Avraham should suffer some consequence for his mistrust.  But it seems that, in Hashem’s eyes, shalom was more important than making some other kind of fixing.

When n-h-y are fixed, they can ‘arouse all the worlds to serving Hashem.’  When n-h-y are fixed in relationship, the two can inspire each other, rather than put each other on the defensive.