Do you feel like the world revolves around you?
Me too.
It’s hard to admit, because it seems incredibly arrogant.
Yet, from childhood onward, it’s our natural instinct. And it doesn’t go away. We’re always trying to shape the world, to control it, to make it fit our vision. When it doesn’t, we’re frustrated because our world is out of sync.
As we grow, we [hopefully!] work with our natural narcissism, and learn to manage the ego. But it’s still there.
And that’s okay, as long as we recognize that our personal world is but a single world in an entire world full of worlds.
Interpretation: I, indeed, feel like the center of my universe; but I need to realize that everyone else feels the same about their own personal universes. I live in a world full of personal worlds.
So when I interact with someone, I need to recognize that he is the center of his own universe. His fears and sensitivities may be literally earth-shattering to him. I may not feel that way, but it’s not my world. It’s his. Or hers.
So managing my ego begins with making room for everyone else’s.
But there’s more.
We are each created in the image of G-d, with a soul that is a ‘piece of the Divine’. Now, G-d is TRULY the center of the universe. And I have a piece of the Divine within me. So the world revolves around G-d. And my world revolves around the G-dliness within me.
So this ‘I am the center of the universe’ feeling is just a surface reflection of a my soul’s deeper identity.
How does ‘my world’ revolve around my Divine identity? I, and all of us, exist in this world to serve as a partner with G-d. When I illuminate my environment, engaging life with Purpose, I am a co-creator. I’m upgrading G-d’s creation.
My ‘individual world’ (starting with my own personality) is my lifelong project: to perfect, to illuminate, and to refine. My commitment to my world serves as its center.
When I see the world as mine to exploit, that’s arrogant. When I see my world as my jewel to polish and refine; when I see it as my responsibility; when I see the Holy potential in the world around me, then I function as an extension of G-d. And that’s simply Divine.
Mendy wrote...
In the Torah, G-d tells the Jews to create a Sanctuary, a Tabernacle, where they will be able to interface with the Divine.
Once we have the structure, G-d tells us - in this week's Torah portion - about the process of the 'interface' itself.
The process' contains a primary element, called 'korban' in Hebrew.
'Korban' is conventionally translated as 'sacrifice', as in 'animal sacrifice. Personally, I believe that's a poor translation, since 'sacrifice' is a loaded word. To me, and I believe to many, the word has strongly negative connotations and associations.
That's not fair to 'korban'.
The very word 'korban' means 'to come close'; so the 'korban' was a 'coming-close' mechanism. It was a profound way for the individual to achieve a deep closeness with the Divine, and with their deeper selves. How? By dissolving the barrier, the primary cause of separation.
What stands between us and G-d, between me and my best self? The ego. My selfish impulse and self-gratification instinct.
In Torah lingo, it's my inner-animal. An animal is purely instinctive. Its instincts can be shaped (as Pavlov demonstrated), but they can't be transcended.
The korban, this coming-close mechanism, tackled the obstacle which keeps us far from who we need to be: our animal, our ego.
So this week's Torah portion isn't just speaking of offering a calf or a sheep on an altar to satisfy some religious need. It's about a sensory representation, an emodiment of our own material side, being consumed with the holy flame of our hearts, as they flicker upward in the search for meaning.
Mendy wrote...
Looking at myself through a Torah lens, I see myself as a Divine creation, brought into this world with a mission. The mission: to elevate the world.
Obviously, I can only impact my arena of influence. But my interaction with that area of life revolves around my Divine raison d’etre. It’s not about what I want out of life; it’s what life needs out of me
The Talmud teaches that we should each be saying "the world is created for me". The meaning there is clear: I need to look at my sphere of influence, 'my world', and recognize that its destiny is my responsibility.
This also informs a Jewish view of ownership (we discussed this a bit last Sunday). In secular law, ownership is created by communal convention; we’ve created the idea of ownership in order to prevent anarchy.
In Jewish Law, I share a destiny with my possessions. I need to use them correctly and actualize their purpose for existence. We are connected by something I call a spiritual ‘web’. I not only own them, I owe them (the favor of proper interaction).
When I sell something, I am transferring the responsibility to another. And vice-versa.
So life, our individual world, all revolves around our mission. It’s created for us to use, and to elevate.
Reggie Yoskowitz wrote...
Mendy wrote...
You're correct in pointing out that the physical korban helped people in the psycho-spiritual struggle to control their weaker selves.
Now - without a Temple nor the korban - we need to try our best with new tools.
Most of us will never be free of the shallow, self-serving ego. The effort to temporarily transcend it is a lifelong struggle. But there's a beauty to reaching higher, even if it's short-lived and we need to consistently regain footing.
In our days, this is the korban pursuit.
Interestingly, the Talmud teaches that today's altar (where a korban was offered), is the table where you eat. Since we all eat, food is a frequent example of engaging the material. This is therefore a consistent front in our battle with our own self-indulgence. Why we eat, how we eat etc are indicators of our inner compass. Am I enamored with the steak? Or am I enamored with my opportunities for a meaningful life and that's why I need the protein in front of me (which happens to be a delicious steak)?
So, just as the korban was an exercise in dealing with my 'inner animal', so is my lunch.
Just to add: The Kabbala tells us that this human struggle for higher consciousness is very precious to G-d, bringing great nachas (joy) to the Divine.
If one looks at the Scripture describing the korban pursuit, there is a common phrase - rei'ach nich'oach' - used. It means that the korban was a pleasant aroma for the Divine.
Obviously this is an anthropomorphism (use of human terms as a metaphor for the Divine).
But what does it mean?
Smell is a deep seated sense within the human. It strikes so deeply that a person who has fainted can often be awakened only smelling salts.
When it says that our struggle with self-gratification is a 'pleasing aroma', the Torah is trying to say that our human effort strikes deeply within the Divine. A smell of nachas, causing deep satisafaction to G-d.