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Rabbi Mendy Herson's Blog

Thoughts from, and conversations with, Rabbi Herson

Eternal Light

When there’s abundant sunlight, who needs a candle? The light of a candle shines its brightest, and is most appreciated, in the darkness.

Shortly after the Jews left Egypt, G-d instructed them to build the Tabernacle, which would serve as a direct point of contact between G-d and humanity. When the construction was complete, each of the Jews’ twelve tribal leaders brought an offering to dedicate their new Temple.

Aaron, the High Priest, was also given a special part in the dedication, in the form of kindling the Menorah, which would stand in the Tabernacle and spread light to the world.

G-d actually told Aaron that eventually the Temple would be destroyed and its service discontinued, but the “Menorah’s light would burn forever,” referring to the Chanukah lights. In other words,

Aaron’s contribution to the Tabernacle would be more enduring than that of the tribal leaders.

The Temple was the pinnacle of our spiritual experience, so the tribal leaders’ contribution to its founding was profound. At the same time, their contribution was tied to the structure, and with the Temple's destruction, its impact came to an end.

Aaron's mission was to spread light. Not just physical light, Divine light. To ignite souls. To spark psycho-spiritual illumination and warmth.

So Aaron’s light would echo through history, and would find specific expression when the Maccabees found spiritual light and strength in a time of great spiritual darkness.

In other words, the Maccabees first found light in their souls, and only afterward in the Menorah. And both 'flames' were the gift of Aaron.

Today, Aaron’s contribution to our lives lies in our ability to find a spark of G-dliness and Divine light – internal clarity and beauty – irrespective of our circumstances, even in a dark hour.

The world has been darkened by a Pandemic, yet we – beginning tonight – can bring transcendent light to the world.

We have the gift of Aaron, and Aaron's gift “burns forever.”

What does a Divine, Infinite Being do on a regular Thursday afternoon? If One has everything, literally, wouldn’t life be boring? What aspirations, ambitions or feelings of satisfaction or attainment could there possibly be?

G-d creates us with the hope that we each choose (at least occasionally?) to peer beyond the haze of stress and the gleam of desire, to acknowledge that we’re created to live a life of meaning.  He wonders, “Will they or won’t they remember Me?”

So G-d must be happy when we start the day with prayer, with introspective thoughts of how we need to align our day with a meaning-centered life. And G-d must be satisfied when we take some time at night to revisit the day’s choices and whether they reflect a purpose-driven life.

At the same time, morning, before the day begins and nighttime, after the day has wound down, are relatively easier times to be conscious and thoughtful. How about taking time in middle of the day? Can you imagine making time for G-d between Zoom meetings, as your mind is racing to keep all the balls in the air? Is that even realistic?

Jewish tradition says it is.

If we find G-d-consciousness when it isn’t easy, we give G-d His greatest ‘thrill.’

In fact, the Talmud teaches that our afternoon service (known as Mincha) has unique value. In the middle of our afternoon, it takes more proactive effort to focus on G-d and on our purpose in life. And that makes it all the more beautiful.

This idea gives us insight into a cryptic Talmudic teaching. The Talmud – which is primarily an exposition of Jewish Law, but also an exploration of spiritual and ethical ideas, often through cryptic stories and metaphors - asks the question:

What does G-d do all day? As part of the Talmud’s metaphoric answer, it says, “in the last three hours of the afternoon, G-d frolics with the Leviathan.”

Huh?

Chassidic thought points out that the [root of the] Hebrew word for Leviathan means connectedness; ‘Leviathan’ thus represents the awesome beauty that human beings create when they rise above their egos to find connectedness with something Higher ‑‑ the Divine. 

So every afternoon, as millions of people choose to put their respective days on pause, to contemplate their priorities and behaviors and connect with the Divine, G-d ‘frolics.’

Think about the metaphoric word that the Talmud chooses.

It’s not just a smile.

Not just happy.

Frolicking.

Exuberant.

Sounds like a good time to pray.

Dust vs. Dirt

What’s the difference between dust and dirt?

If you think about it, dirt isn’t just the stuff that defaces our clothing and muddies our carpets. Given the right conditions, dirt sprouts forth the agriculture that is the stuff of life. Much of our nutrition comes from the dirt.

So what’s dust?

Dust seems useless. Dirt’s spatter.

In life, we encounter lots of objects and situations. Some seem to have an immediately-appreciable positive purpose. Some are like dirt, where you have to consider how to extract positive from apparent muck, but can produce growth.

But what’s with life’s dust?

How do we deal with that part of life that seems to have no positive input and just sullies life’s veneer?

How do we deal with the mental haze that prevents us from appreciating life with its fullest potential and beauty? That coating over life that screams lethargy and inactivity?

It’s a challenge.

So let’s look at a classic Biblical episode.

Jacob is walking alone, when he is accosted by a strange “man,” who is actually an angel. They wrestle each other, “kicking up dust,” until dawn.

Finally the angel tells Jacob that he will receive a new name, Israel, which means:  “You have wrestled with G-d, and with man, and have prevailed.”

Jacob was challenged and he responded. He grappled and he struggled; ultimately, by the grace of G-d and the power of his soul, he was able to persevere.

But what is the challenge? What does Jacob’s wrestling match represent for me and you?

While there are many beautiful lessons learned, it’s interesting that Jewish thought puts a large focus on the “dust”, as a pivotal part of Jacob’s struggle.

From this perspective, Jacob was struggling to elevate – to “kick up” - the dust of life. Jacob struggled to handle life’s big challenges, but perhaps more insidious was the seemingly small challenge of ‘dust.’ Jacob struggled to elevate the ‘stuff’ that doesn’t allow us to find peace in the here and now, with ourselves and with G-d.

And he was successful.

We are Jacob, and we can be successful at this too.

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