David Bohm

The opening verses of the Torah portion of bechukotai, (Leviticus 26:3 – 27:34) reminded me of the ideas of American physicist David Bohm (1917-1992). An innovative thinker, Bohm did not limit himself to physics and went further than many in trying to grapple with the implications of quantum physics on our understanding of mind and brain. He also engaged in famous conversations with J.D. Krishnamurti, one of the most significant spiritual teachers of the 20^th century, and developed a system of “dialogue,” a way for people to conduct a conversation which takes the insights he has gained into the nature of mind and consciousness into account.

One of Bohm’s ideas was that of Implicate and Explicate order. For Bohm, explicate order (which he also refers to as “unfolded” order) is the order that we normally perceive around us, the perceived order of space, time, and particles. Underlying this order, for Bohm, is a deeper one, which he calls “implicate” (or “enfolded”) order. It is that order which he was interested learning and accessing, and his process of dialogue was aimed at that.

Bohm felt that accessing this implicate order through the process of dialogue was an end in itself, and therefore the application of this form of dialogue for practical, “worldly” purpose was left to his students and successors (bear with me, this will tie in with the weekly portion very soon…). One of these is William Isaacs, author of Dialogue: The Art Of Thinking Together. In his book, Isaacs brings many case studies in which companies fared poorly due to lack of real communication between the various branches of labor, management, and R&D. But as soon as the system of dialogue was introduced and applied—that is, to use both Bohm’s and Isaacs’ assertions, as soon as the implicate order was accessed together by the various stake-holders—the company or organization turned around.

* * *

It was upon reading these testimonies that the verses of bechukotai came to life. In those beginning verses, Y-H-V-H makes a promise to the Israelites, which on the face of it looks very simplistic: if they conduct their lives according to His laws and obey His commandments, they will flourish. And if they don’t, they will be severely punished.

אִם בְּחֻקֹּתַי תֵּלֵכוּ וְאֶת מִצְוֹתַי תִּשְׁמְרוּ וַעֲשִׂיתֶם אֹתָם: וְנָתַתִּי גִשְׁמֵיכֶם בְּעִתָּם וְנָתְנָה הָאָרֶץ יְבוּלָהּ וְעֵץ הַשָּׂדֶה יִתֵּן פִּרְיוֹ: וְהִשִּׂיג לָכֶם דַּיִשׁ אֶת בָּצִיר וּבָצִיר יַשִּׂיג אֶת זָרַע וַאֲכַלְתֶּם לַחְמְכֶם לָשֹׂבַע וִישַׁבְתֶּם לָבֶטַח בְּאַרְצְכֶם:… וְאִם לֹא תִשְׁמְעוּ לִי וְלֹא תַעֲשׂוּ אֵת כָּל הַמִּצְוֹת הָאֵלֶּה: וְאִם בְּחֻקֹּתַי תִּמְאָסוּ וְאִם אֶת מִשְׁפָּטַי תִּגְעַל נַפְשְׁכֶם לְבִלְתִּי עֲשׂוֹת אֶת כָּל מִצְוֹתַי לְהַפְרְכֶם אֶת בְּרִיתִי: אַף אֲנִי אֶעֱשֶׂה זֹּאת לָכֶם וְהִפְקַדְתִּי עֲלֵיכֶם בֶּהָלָה אֶת הַשַּׁחֶפֶת וְאֶת הַקַּדַּחַת מְכַלּוֹת עֵינַיִם וּמְדִיבֹת נָפֶשׁ וּזְרַעְתֶּם לָרִיק זַרְעֲכֶם וַאֲכָלֻהוּ אֹיְבֵיכֶם:

If you conduct yourself according to My laws and observe My commandments, I will grant your rains in their season, so that the earth shall yield its produce and the trees of the field their fruit. Your threshing shall overtake the vintage, and your vintage shall overtake the sowing; you shall eat your fill of bread and dwell securely in your land…. But if you do not obey me and do not observe all these commandments, if you reject My laws and spurn My rules, so that you do not observe all My commandments and you break My covenant, in turn I will do this to you: I will wreak misery upon you—consumption and fever, which cause the eyes to pine and the body to languish, you shall sow your seed to no purpose, for your enemies shall eat it. (Leviticus 26:3-5, 14-17).

So yes, I know that most present day rabbis and orthodox Jews will claim that the text simply talks about following God’s commandments, the mitzvoth, as interpreted by the 2,000 rabbinical tradition. And I am not going to argue with that, because surely there is nothing wrong with following the commandments. But I think there is a deeper way in which we can understand the words lalechet bechukuotay, i.e., walk in my commandments. And that deeper way comes from within the Jewish tradition, not from outside.

* * *

In the biblical book of Proverbs, chokhma (חכמה), “Wisdom”, is personified. She has a monologue, which she opens with the words:

יְהוָה–קָנָנִי, רֵאשִׁית דַּרְכּוֹ:    קֶדֶם מִפְעָלָיו מֵאָז.
מֵעוֹלָם, נִסַּכְתִּי מֵרֹאשׁ–    מִקַּדְמֵי-אָרֶץ.
בְּאֵין-תְּהֹמוֹת חוֹלָלְתִּי;    בְּאֵין מַעְיָנוֹת, נִכְבַּדֵּי-מָיִם.
בְּטֶרֶם הָרִים הָטְבָּעוּ;    לִפְנֵי גְבָעוֹת חוֹלָלְתִּי.

Y-H-V-H created me in the beginning of his course
As the first of His works of old.
In the distant past I was fashioned,
At the beginning, at the origin of earth.
There was still no deep when I was brought forth,
No springs rich in water;
Before [the foundation of] the mountains were sunk,
Before the hills I was born.
(Proverbs 8:22-25)

Who is this wisdom personified? Without exception, throughout time and in all the streams of Judaism (mystics or scholars, traditional or modern), the fact that this personified Wisdom, chokhmah, is none other than the Torah has been taken for granted. Torah is revealed here not as a text, but as a primordial level of wisdom that existed before creation came into being, before space and time.

The midrash and the Talmud went even further. Not only did Torah exist as a primordial wisdom before creation came about, it is in fact the blueprint of creation. God, it is said, uses the letters of the Torah as the “workers” which he uses to bring creation about. It is the sequence of the letter in the Torah, according to those ancient traditions, that is the code through which creation comes into being.

* * *

This way of relating to the Torah, which mirrors the way the Vedic tradition relates to Veda and echos Bohm’s concept of implicit order, makes profound sense to me. It makes sense to me, that living in accordance with that level of intelligence of nature one life would have better chances of prospering than otherwise.

While I am, like many others, weary of any attempts to “prove” anything that appears in the Bible through the use of science, I can safely say that David Bohm’s concept of implicit order helped me to live in piece with the statements in the bechukotay portion of the week, which I otherwise have many factual and historical problems with. Thank you, David Bohm.

וְכִי יָמוּךְ אָחִיךָ עִמָּךְ וְנִמְכַּר לָךְ לֹא תַעֲבֹד בּוֹ עֲבֹדַת עָבֶד: כְּתוֹשָׁב יִהְיֶה עִמָּךְ עַד שְׁנַת הַיֹּבֵל יַעֲבֹד עִמָּךְ: וְיָצָא מֵעִמָּךְ הוּא וּבָנָיו עִמּוֹ וְשָׁב אֶל מִשְׁפַּחְתּוֹ וְאֶל אֲחֻזַּת אֲבֹתָיו יָשׁוּב: כִּי עֲבָדַי הֵם אֲשֶׁר הוֹצֵאתִי אֹתָם מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם לֹא יִמָּכְרוּ מִמְכֶּרֶת עָבֶד:… כִּי לִי בְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל עֲבָדִים עֲבָדַי הֵם אֲשֶׁר הוֹצֵאתִי אוֹתָם מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם אֲנִי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵיכֶם:

If your kinsman under you continues in straits and must give himself over to you, to not subject him to the treatment of a slave. He shall remain with you as a hired or bound laborer; he shall serve with you only until the Jubilee year. Then he and his children with him shall be free of your authority; he shall go back to his family and return to his ancestral holding. For they are my slaves, whom I freed from the land of Egypt, and may not give themselves over into slavery…. For it is to me that the Israelites are slaves: they are my slaves, whom I freed from the land of Egypt, I Y-H-V-H your God. (Leviticus 25:39-42, 55)

As discussed earlier, in the context of the Torah portion of Vayera, the Hebrew word for slave is eved. Being an eved is considered to be a despicable way of life; referring to someone in this manner is a great insult. Why? Because as a slave, one has nothing of one’s own. One’s body, one’s cloths, one’s spouse and one’s children belong to one’s master-owner.

But when it comes to God, this relationship is hailed as the ideal relationship. Abraham is hailed by good as “my slave, Abraham”; Moses is referred to as God’s slave; and the prophets’ highest ideal of life was to be a slave of Y-H-V-H:

הֵן עַבְדִּי אֶתְמָךְ בּוֹ בְּחִירִי רָצְתָה נַפְשִׁי נָתַתִּי רוּחִי עָלָיו מִשְׁפָּט לַגּוֹיִם יוֹצִיא.

This is My slave, whom I uphold,
My chosen one, in whom I delight.
I have put My spirit upon him,
He shall teach the true way to the nations. (Isaiah 42:1)

English translations of the Bible, by both Jewish and Christian sources, translate the words eved adonay, which literally mean God’s slave, as God’s servant, because it’s a “less humiliating” way of describing someone who is so surrendered to God. But in doing so, they are performing both a linguistic and a philosophical error. Linguistically, because eved actually means slave; a servant would be mesharet. Philosophically, because the use of this word is deliberate—it describes a situation in which one recognizes that nothing that one has is one’s own, it all belongs to God.

Far from being an insult, calling someone “God’s slave” is the highest compliment. It is, in fact, the name of one of the prophets, Ovadiah (עֹבַדְיָה). And it’s the same in Arabic: calling someone ‘abd (عبد), Arabic for slave (which comes from the same root as the Hebrew eved), is an insult; but when used in conjunction with Allah, it is the greatest honor. Hence the name ‘Abdallah (عبد الله), which means “Allah’s slave.” In fact, many traditional Arabic names start with the word ‘abd followed by one of the epithets of Allah from the Qur’an: ‘Abdulrahman (the Slave of the Merciful), ‘Abdulquadir (the Slave of the Powerful), etc.

Interestingly, the Hebrew word eved also shares its root with the Hebrew word avodah, which means both “work” and “worship.” Worshipping God in Judaism is not a question of choice; it is work, a duty. One is to performs it as a slave, in the sense that one who is cognizant that one’s body and mind exist for the sole purpose of performing God’s work. It is the same concept in Islam, in which these three words—work, worship and slavery—all come from the same Arabic root, which is identical with the Hebrew one.

And yet it is important to realize that this slavery is understood, and experienced, in both religions as the key to real freedom. In the words of the great 11^th Century Rabbi and poet Yehudah Halevi:

עַבְדֵי זְמָן עַבְדֵי עֲבָדִים הֵם –
עֶבֶד אֲדֹנָי הוּא לְבַד חָפְשִׁי:
עַל כֵּן בְבַקֵּשׁ כָּל-אֱנוֹשׁ חֶלְקוֹ
“חֶלְקִי אֲדֹנָי!” אָמְרָה נַפְשִׁי.

Slaves of time are slaves of slaves—
Only God’s slave is free:
Therefore, when each human asked for their share,
My soul said, “God is the share for me!”

Copyright © 2014 Igal Harmelin-Moria
(Copyright does not pertain to illustrations)

Rabbi Klonimus Kalman’s grave

This week’s Torah portion, kedoshim (Leviticus Ch. 19-20), opens up with a bang. The text says:

וַיְדַבֵּר יְהוָה אֶל מֹשֶׁה לֵּאמֹר: דַּבֵּר אֶל כָּל עֲדַת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וְאָמַרְתָּ אֲלֵהֶם קְדֹשִׁים תִּהְיוּ כִּי קָדוֹשׁ אֲנִי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵיכֶם:

Y-H-V-H spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the whole Israelite community, and say to them: You shall be holy, for I, Y-H-V-H your God, am Holy. (Leviticus 19:1-2)

The Hebrew word kadosh (קדוש), meaning holy, means different, other, set apart. As such, it is an attribute of God, as the one who is completely set apart from creation, the transcendental reality.

And yet here, the Torah demands of the Israelites—and I prefer not to understand this term as those who share a particular DNA, but rather as the word denotes, “those who grapple with God”—to be holy too. God seems to be saying: I am holy, and if you engage with me and grapple with me, if you do it right, you should be holy too.

But if holy means set apart and different, should “becoming holy” mean withdrawing from the world? The Hassidic text Maor Vashemesh, discusses just that. Rabbi Klonimus Kalman Halevi, the author, starts by referring to Maimonides, who seems to be advocating withdrawal in some circumstances (apologies to women readers: this text was written in the 18^th Century):

“If an Israelite lives in a place where evil views and bad leaders prevail, he should leave that place and move from place to place, and from country to country, until one reaches a place of straight Torah and opinions, where he would find rest. And if he cannot find any suitable place, he should seek solitude in deserts and forests in order to run away from evil views and bad people.”

Rabbi Klominus concurs, but only to a point.

“The truth is, that one should indeed escape to the forests and retire from the public in order to save oneself from evil views and evil deeds, but the only thing this can be helpful for is ensuring that one can perform one’s worship of Him, blessed by He. However, one does not gain supreme holiness until one attaches oneself to people of God who worship God in truth, and participate with them with much worship, through prayers as well as through the study of the Torah. The essence of all the mitzvoth (the commandments) is to be in community with other God seekers; then and only then the supreme holiness can be achieved.”

In this, Rabbi Klonimus echoes the ideas of Gautama the Buddha. Buddhism is known for its solitary practices of inward meditation, and there is no more solitary practice than that. However, when asked about the value of sangha, the spiritual community, the Buddha said: “Sangha is the beginning, the middle, and the end of the spiritual life.”

*   *   *

Another key phrase that appears in this Torah portion is

וְאָהַבְתָּ לְרֵעֲךָ כָּמוֹךָ

Love your fellow as yourself. (Leviticus 19:18)

This phrase is known as the Golden Rule. It is the fundamental rule of every culture and tradition that is based on the sacred. Here are a few examples:

Christianity: “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you.” (Matthew 7:12)

Islam: “Not one of you is a believer until he loves for his brother what he loves for himself.” (Forty Hadith of an-Nawawi 13)

Hinduism: “One should not behave towards others in a way which is disagreeable to oneself. This is the essence of morality. All other activities are due to selfish desire.” (Mahabharata, Anusasana Parva 113.8)

Jainism: “A man should wander about treating all creatures as he himself would be treated.” (Sutrakritanga 1.11.33)

Buddhism: “Comparing oneself to others in such terms as “Just as I am so are they, just as they are so am I,” he should neither kill nor cause others to kill.” (Sutta Nipata 705)

How can one love one’s fellow as oneself, when he or she is “so obviously” other? The message of this important, universal principle is that there is no other: ultimately, there is only One, and that One is who we all are. Leyt atar panuy mineh, there is no place where He is not, says the Zohar. This realization, of the Oneness of all, is the highest realization of truth, the supreme holiness.

Sages of all spiritual and religious traditions have been recommending solitary meditation as a means of realizing that oneness. The solitary practice of meditation becomes a key to loving the other, the key to community.

An interesting symmetry emerges: holiness, the supreme “otherness”, is said to be realized ultimately through community; and community, the ultimate of togetherness, is ultimately possible through the deep non-dual, ultimately solitary realization of Self. Community and solitude are two aspects of the same thing.

—————–

For the quotes, I relied on the anthology “The World Scripture” http://www.unification.net/ws/

Copyright © 2014 Igal Harmelin-Moria
(Copyright does not pertain to illustrations)

The Ark of the Covenant

As practically all of the book of Leviticus, this week’s Torah portion, acharey mot (Leviticus Ch. 16-18), lists numerous rules regarding how Aharon, the chief priest, is to conduct himself while he is in the Tent of the Meeting (another name for the Tabernacle).

For the Hassidic rabbis, these are just codes for how one should conduct oneself during prayer. The “Tent of the Meeting” is not a physical place for them; it is the deeper realms of one’s consciousness. Entering the Tent of the Meeting (ohel mo’ed) is entering that place within oneself, where one meets one’s Maker.

Here is how Rabbi Benjamin Ben Aharon from Zlositch, author of Torey Zahav (תורי זהב), interpreted one of these instructions. The text says:

וְכָל אָדָם לֹא יִהְיֶה בְּאֹהֶל מוֹעֵד בְּבֹאוֹ לְכַפֵּר בַּקֹּדֶשׁ עַד צֵאתוֹ וְכִפֶּר בַּעֲדוֹ וּבְעַד בֵּיתוֹ וּבְעַד כָּל קְהַל יִשְׂרָאֵל:

No person shall be in the Tent of Meeting [the Tabernacle] when he comes in to atone for the holy, until he goes out. He shall make atonement for himself and his household…. (Leviticus 16:17)

Rabbi Benjamin Ben Aharon from Zlositch writes:*

In the book Duties of the Hearts** [hovot halevavot, by the 11^th century Rabbi Bahya ibn Paqquda] we are told that a person should regularly practice lone meditation [hitbodedut [התבודדות, separated from other people. You should reach the state that even when surrounded by a thousand people, you are able to maintain your attachment to God. Nothing should divide you or separate you from that attachment (Sha‘ar Heshbon ha-Nefesh 3).

Thus I interpret our verse…. We know that before praying you should be stripped of your corporeal self. Your thought should cleave to the exaltedness of God, as though you were standing in the upper worlds among angels, rather than surrounded by people. When you forget that you are among people, you are able to pray with great intensity, without any false motives. This is [what is meant by] No person shall be in the Tent of Meeting. That refers to the synagogue or house of study, the place where people gather to pray. No person shall be there in your thought; you should be so stripped of physical selfhood that you forget you are standing among people. As you come in to atone for the holy: the time of prayer, which takes the place of atoning sacrifices. Until he goes out: from the beginning to the end of prayer. He shall make atonement for himself and his household: prayer of this sort is surely pure.

Thus I also interpreted the sages’ saying “In a place where there is no man, try to be a man” (Mishnah, Pirkey Avot 2: 5). When you stand in that place of teshuvah, strive to be more than an ordinary man; enter the upper realms, where there is no other person. Before you perform a mitsvah, set your mind to be attached above, as though there were no person present….

* * *

The Hassids were not the only mystics that took ancient stories of entering the tabernacle or the temple to mean entering one’s own Holy of Holies. A story that I told earlier in this blog is fit to be told here, since this we are approaching the holiday of Passover, even though it is coming from the New Testament. The story comes from the Gospel of Luke:

Now every year his parents went to Jerusalem for the festival of the Passover.  And when he was twelve years old, they went up as usual for the festival.  When the festival was ended and they started to return, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it. Assuming that he was in the group of travelers, they went a day’s journey. Then they started to look for him among their relatives and friends. When they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem to search for him. After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. And all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers. (Luke 2:41-47)

Commenting on this story, Meister Eckhart, the great 14^th century mystic who deserves, in my eyes, to be called “a Christian Hassid”, had an interpretation of this story that reminds one of the Hassids.

For Eckhart, this story is a metaphor for one’s search for God. When one lives unconsciously, one is so self-absorbed that one does not know whether or not one is connected to God. This is symbolized by the fact that “the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it” (the parents, in this story, symbolize the seekers).

As life progresses, one notices that something is missing, but thinks that the solution is near, and one is bound to stumble upon it sooner or later in the natural course of one’s life. “Assuming that he was in the group of travelers, they went a day’s journey.”

It does not take long for an introspective soul to realize that one has to look deeper. One may not be ready for a radical change yet—one still looks for God in the familiar—but the intensity of one’s search increases. “Then they started to look for him among their relatives and friends.”

When that fails, one decides to be much more focused and serious. One starts devoting all of one’s energy to the search, engaging in prayer, meditation, and holy practices. This, Meister Eckhart says, is what is meant by the fact that the parents returned to the holy city, to Jerusalem, and looked for boy Jesus within its walls. But even after three days of constant searching in the holy city, they could not find him. In other words, holy, religious pursuits in themselves are no guarantee for finding God.

Where do they find God eventually? In the temple, which for Eckhart is a metaphor for the deepest level of Self, the deepest level of one’s consciousness. When one finally steps into that inner realm, one realizes that God has been there all along, teaching.

* * *

Happy Passover!

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*Green, Arthur; Leader, Ebn; Mayse, Ariel Evan; Rose, Or N. (2013-07-09). Speaking Torah, Vol. 1: Spiritual Teachings from around the Maggid’s Table (Kindle Locations 5327-5336). Jewish Lights Publishing. Kindle Edition.

**חובות הלבבות

Copyright © 2014 Igal Harmelin-Moria
(Copyright does not pertain to illustrations)