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)

וַיִּקְרָא אֶל מֹשֶׁה וַיְדַבֵּר יְהוָה אֵלָיו מֵאֹהֶל מוֹעֵד לֵאמֹר:

He called to Moses; Y-H-V-H spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting. (Lev. 1:1)

Those familiar with the Torah and/or readers of this blog will remember that this portion follows many chapters in Exodus in which the text dealt mainly with the construction of the mishkan (the tabernacle, here referred to as “the Tent of Meeting”). As mentioned repeatedly in this blog, the Hassidic viewpoint is that the tabernacle is principally an internal structure, an inner sacred space within each person, and it’s up to each of us to “erect” this structure so that God can be realized as dwelling within.

According to this interpretation, therefore, when the Torah says that “Y-H-V-H spoke to him [Moses] from the Tent of Meeting”, it is a voice that Moses, who serves as a metaphor for each one of us, hears from within himself.

This is hinted at by an “anomaly” in the actual text of the Torah scroll. The first word of this Torah portion (and therefore, of the book of Leviticus), vayikra (ויקרא), ends with the letter aleph (א). This letter has the numerical value of 1, and stands for “The one without a second”–the one and only, i.e. God. But in this case, the letter is written smaller than other letters, almost like a superscript:

In the commentary on the first portion of the Torah, bereshit, I mentioned that there are a few places in the Torah scroll in which the letters are written differently, e.g., larger, smaller, or turned at an abnormal angle. These “abnormalities” are neither typos nor decorative devices. Rather, they are used to highlight or amplify important metaphysical points.

The fact that the word vayikra, which means “He [God] called”, ends with a small aleph, highlights the fact that the voice of God that one hears is not a dramatic voice from outside through “cosmic loudspeakers” but rather a “still, small voice” that one hears from within.

And indeed, one of the early Hassids, Rabbi Menachem Nachum of Chernobyl, explains this in his book Meor Eynayim. He says that the small aleph indicates that He, the Master of the world, reduces Himself in order to be present in the soul of every human, to guide us towards Himself, towards aleph, towards the One.

* * *

The word vayikra, which is translated here as “He called”, is from the root kara, which means “to read”, “to call out”, and “to proclaim”. It is identical to the same root in Arabic, qara (or kara; the use of K in Hebrew transliterations vs. Q in Arabic ones is due to differences in pronunciation).

Interestingly, the first word that was revealed to Muhammad and that started his mission was the word iqra (اقْرَأْ), which means to call out (or proclaim) as well as to read. In today’s traditional Qur’anic arrangement, this is the opening words of surah 96, but it is nevertheless understood as the first word of Allah that was revealed to the Prophet.

* * *

In traditional Jewish religious education, the first text that young students of the Torah are exposed to soon after learning the alphabet is the book of vayikra. This is because this book is almost entirely devoted to the worship of God in the tabernacle (hence its Latin name, Leviticus, i.e., pertaining to the Levites, the priestly class, and their duties). This was thought of as the purest of subjects and therefore appropriate for beginning Torah study.

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

One story in particular is relevant to the life of a spiritual aspirant in our day an age. We are told that while in the desert, the People of Israel received direct guidance from God:

וַיהוָה הֹלֵךְ לִפְנֵיהֶם יוֹמָם בְּעַמּוּד עָנָן לַנְחֹתָם הַדֶּרֶךְ וְלַיְלָה בְּעַמּוּד אֵשׁ לְהָאִיר לָהֶם לָלֶכֶת יוֹמָם וָלָיְלָה: לֹא יָמִישׁ עַמּוּד הֶעָנָן יוֹמָם וְעַמּוּד הָאֵשׁ לָיְלָה לִפְנֵי הָעָם:

YHVH went in front of them in a pillar of cloud by day, to lead them along the way, and in a pillar of fire by night, to give them light, so that they might travel by day and by night. Neither the pillar of cloud by day nor the pillar of fire by night left its place in front of the people. (Exodus 21-22)

Wouldn’t we all want to have such a cosmic GPS? Would we not want God—the energy and intelligence that creates and maintains the entire universe—to guide our every step on our path from bondage to liberation?

Impossible, you say? Not so fast. It may be that this is precisely what this story is trying to tell us: that for those who have the eyes to see and ears to hear, divine guidance is as clear as a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night at all times.

But how does one attune oneself to this “channel of perpetual guidance”? Surely, our physical eyes do not perceive pillars of cloud or fire in our immediate vicinity. Indeed, later in the Bible, in the First Book of Kings, the prophet Elijah is told where such guidance can be found.

We read that prophet Elijah, escaping the wrath of queen Jezebel, hides in a cave on Mount Sinai. At one point he is instructed to come out and “stand on the mountain before YHVH.” The text says:

וְהִנֵּה יְהוָה עֹבֵר וְרוּחַ גְּדוֹלָה וְחָזָק מְפָרֵק הָרִים וּמְשַׁבֵּר סְלָעִים לִפְנֵי יְהוָה לֹא בָרוּחַ יְהוָה וְאַחַר הָרוּחַ רַעַשׁ לֹא בָרַעַשׁ יְהוָה: וְאַחַר הָרַעַשׁ אֵשׁ לֹא בָאֵשׁ יְהוָה וְאַחַר הָאֵשׁ קוֹל דְּמָמָה דַקָּה:

And lo, YHVH passed by. There was a great and mighty wind, splitting mountains and shattering rocks by the power of YHVH; but YHVH was not in the wind. After the wind—an earthquake; but YHVH was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake—fire, but YHVH was not in the fire. And after the fire—the sound of subtle silence. (1 Kings 19: 11-12).

That “sound of subtle silence” (in Hebrew kol dmama daka, better known in English as “a still, small voice”) is that inaudible, sacred, ever-present frequency that underlies the tumultuous commotion of the world. That “channel” never stops transmitting, but we need to bring our attention there, and listen with different ears.

Meister Eckhart, a 14^th Century German mystic whose inspired sermons continue to excite generations of spiritual aspirants to this very day, gave a beautiful teaching on the subject. He was commenting on a story in the Gospels, about how Jesus’ parents lost track of him during a journey to Jerusalem. The Gospel says:

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)

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. Like the pillars of cloud by day and fire by night, God is always there, guiding and instructing.

Both the Elijah story and Eckhart’s sermon point us to the depth of our awareness as the place where divine guidance can be found. And not surprisingly, the Qur’an agrees:

وَٱذۡكُر رَّبَّكَ فِى نَفۡسِكَ تَضَرُّعً۬ا وَخِيفَةً۬ وَدُونَ ٱلۡجَهۡرِ مِنَ ٱلۡقَوۡلِ بِٱلۡغُدُوِّ وَٱلۡأَصَالِ وَلَا تَكُن مِّنَ ٱلۡغَـٰفِلِينَ

And do thou remember thy Lord within thyself humbly and with awe, below thy breath, at morn and evening. And be not thou of the neglectful. (7:205)

Indeed, it is through perseverance in the internal cultivation of the awareness (“within thyself…below thy breath”), regularly (“at morn and evening”) and consistently (“And be not thou of the neglectful”) that the internal channel of divine guidance can be heard.

May the practice of all aspirants after Truth bear fruit!

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