If you go to any bookstore, you'll find a whole section of books labeled under “spirituality”. These books range from holistic healing, to meditation, to crystals, to astrology, to eastern thought, to mainstream Christianity. More rare, however, are books that attempt to create an understanding of spirituality fully in the context of Jewish tradition.
For, after all, spirituality is quite a loose term. We can see this by the variety of books in the section at the bookstore! Yet, currently, “Spirituality” is a term that is commonly used, and more commonly sought after. We can all agree that most are seeking a spiritual life, a spiritual path, or spiritual experience.
And yet, when we use that word, what do we really mean? In his book, The Journey Home, Discovering the Deep Spiritual Wisdom of the Jewish Tradition, Rabbi Lawrence Hoffman embraces the challenge of defining spirituality within the context of Jewish tradition.
In this book, he offers a working understanding of spirituality, and then explores the depth of Judaism for metaphor and further understanding. By being careful with language-understanding that our contemporary terminology is often borrowed from other traditions, as well as that some of our ancient terminology may no longer be accessible, Hoffman skillfully weaves his way through difficult territory.
In defining spirituality, he uses a metaphor that can't help bring smiles. He returns us to a favorite childhood activity of connect the dots. The childhood challenge came when first looking at a page of dots. It was often unclear what shape or picture will be represented, spurring us forward to complete the puzzle. The metaphor works if we envision these dots as pieces, moments, events of our lives. When we look at the “dots” of our lives, we seek to connect them to make a complete picture. Yet, many of them are disparate, seemingly unconnected to the rest. With each line, connecting the dots, we enlarge the pattern, a whole, that can, we hope, eventually make up a coherent picture. From this desire for a complete picture, we have our quest of spirituality. Hoffman teaches, “I would say that spirituality is our way of being in the world, the system of connectedness by which we make sense of our lives, how we overlay our autobiography in the making with a template of time and space and relationship that is vastly greater than we know ourselves individually to be.”
For example, When Charlie and I picked out the pictures for our wedding album from the proofs, we felt like we were just picking pictures that we loved. We saw beautiful photographs, of a perfect day. We did not see the unfolding drama of a time that would forever bind us together. Yet, when the album was finished and we picked it up, we were in awe. The story of our wedding day, of the life we committed to living together so beautifully, unfolded with each picture. This simple example is really the story of how much we want to put the picture of our lives together. If the pictures remain in haphazard order, the snapshots-the dots-of our lives do not make for a unified story, and we feel whole, wanting-homeless.
When we are unable to connect the dots of our lives, we feel disjointed, murky. It is then that we most often look for support, for guidance-for spiritual answers. “It is painful”, Hoffman writes, “ to have no image of our life being in order, as if our allotted years are merely shapeless blips in eternity”. (27) He continues: “Our singular most spiritual act of faith, therefore, is when we determine that we, like God, will connect random dots into a single shape that tells us who we are” ( 29) The spiritual search comes together when we determine that we have to find order-create pictures-with the dots of our lives.
Living as a Jew, then, what can we draw from our tradition that enables us to connect our dots?
A natural direction, for almost all of us, is to prayer. Hoffman agrees, but reminds us of the rabbis original understanding of prayer. This approach is radically new for some; but is inherently true to our tradition. When discussing prayer, he specifically speaks of blessings. These are the short prayers that almost always begin “ Baruch Atah Adonai. . . “ Most of know that there are blessings for everything-from public to private, from mundane to the magnificent. Most of these blessings are one-liners, some easily memorized, like Hamotzi, the blessing for bread. For the rabbis, these short blessings were infused into Jewish life, and were themselves spiritual.
For the rabbis-and here is the part that is so different from our common thinking-the blessing accomplished something. Where we are most likely to believe that a blessing is something we get from God to raise the ordinary to a higher level of sanctity, it was actually, according to rabbis, quite the opposite. Think about it this way: talking is a form of doing. From making bets, to declaring someone husband and wife, speech has actions, called by some speech acts. A blessing is the same: it is a speech act. Blessings perform commandments; such as kindling the Shabbat lights, or lighting the Hannukiah
Let's explore this through the blessing over a meal. When we eat, according the rabbis, we were engaging in a sacred activity; enjoying the food from the earth-the bounty that God provided us. As the psalmist teaches, “The earth is the lords' and the fullness thereof.” Hoffman states, “food blessings release food of the earth from its natural state of belonging to God.” Because the substances of the land belong to God, then we have to do something to gain permission to eat of it. Every time we make a blessing before we eat, we are reminded of our connection, our partnership with God, as stewards of the earth. “ First and foremost, blessings are liturgical speech acts that celebrate the reality of the divine, allowing ordinary people who are not divine to live in a universe that is Gods.” ( 65)
As the universe belongs to God, we become God's trusted keepers. Blessings allow us to transform the sacred into what we need, but implore us to remember the holy nature of our world. “ We may not take the world for granted, and we may not remain passive recipients of miracle; for we must add to the miracle by our own every day activities, themselves a miraculous gift for which we acknowledge the unknown and unseen force that we name God.” By uttering blessings, we see the picture of lives touched constantly by the holy nature of the world. God is participant in these pictures with every beautiful sunrise, every rainbow, and every piece of bread that we eat. After understanding the power of blessing, Hoffman continues to show that the depth of Jewish tradition is spiritual. How we embrace Torah; how we understand Israel; how we contemplate our holy language-all are inherently spiritual; enabling us to find meaning. As he teaches, “ The human spirit is driven by the search to find meaning in everything”. Through Jewish metaphor, spiritual meaning for our contemporary time is accessible.
Hoffman inevitably must deal with the most difficult of questions: suffering. Most of us crave and seek God, spiritual answers, when we are ailing-from physical malady, or broken heart, it does not matter; the ultimate question remains the same: Does Judaism provide meaning for those that suffer?
The common answer-that we are suffering for something we did wrong-Hoffman vehemently denies. He also denies that there is an answer for suffering at all; much like Kushner in his famous “When Bad Things Happen to Good People”. When one is ill, Hoffman teaches, they are experiencing “night” -the darkness of not having a picture that makes sense. We also, feel, when in pain, that we have been exiled.
The spirituality then, comes when one who is in daylight-not in pain can connect with the one who is suffering. For moments, then, the darkness of the sufferere can have a glimpse of light, and glimpses of connectedness experienced. We are required, in Judaism, to be present at times of anguish and pain of others. It is called, in some circles, a ministry of presence. If we understand that spirituality is our way of being in the world-and not that spirituality is a transcendent, ecstasy laden experience-then we can create meaning for those that suffer. Rather than look to an intervening. inexplicable experience, meaning comes from simply being physically there. With our presence, we affirm the life, and the suffering of the loved one in pain.
We go through life attempting to deny pain-we laugh, enjoy time, and generally resist hearing news about those in the dark world of pain. The archetypical example is that of those who were reporting the atrocities in Germany early on-they were generally ignored, or made to go away. Yet, Judaism insists that we listen, that we be there. We are required, as God did with the Israelites, to accompany those we love into exile, to help them connect the dots of darkness, with the dots of light. This ministry of presence is well known; we know we are taught to visit the sick and comfort the bereaved. We know that we don't even have to say anything when entering a house of mourning-we simply have to be there. In fact, when visiting in the hospital, prayer is secondary in the visit; the primary goal is that our presence alone offers relief. Visiting the sick, comforting the bereaved is an “ affirmation of a common human destiny” “ We should say, then, that visiting is intended to convert Night into at least a temporary Day.” Hoffman writes:
Unable to cure disease, remove people's pain, explain away great suffering, or bring back the dead, we can at least deliver that shared moment of being there which is the way to transform the exile of illness into at least a gateway to home; the way also to identify with the suffering of others because we know we will be where they are soon enough, and in due course, the way we help them make their way in peace to a final home beyond the lifetime that we know. (188)
As God comforted those in pain, and those bereaved, so too, can we offer comfort, bringing light to darkened worlds.
By understanding anew the ancient wisdom of our tradition, we learn that Judaism is a deeply spiritual tradition. I have only highlighted two of the many powerful examples that Hoffman outlines, that of blessings and suffering. With blessing, we are encouraged to remember the sacred nature of the world, and our role in it; with suffering we are reminded of our obligation to bring light to those in darkness. Both enable the dots, the snapshots of our lives, to converge into a picture with larger meaning and purpose.
I urge you to read the book for yourselves to uncover the many beautiful and meaningful images that Hoffman offers. Using the metaphors and tools that have been passed down to us, generation to generation, Hoffman teaches us of the power of the spiritual wisdom of tradition, uncovering our deeply spiritual core.
Amen
E-mail Rabbi Bergman Vann
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