Jewish Asceticism in the Room of Elisha - November 2009



The text of Haftarah Vayera echoes the account of the hospitality of Abraham in the related Torah portion. It describes the guest room built by the Shunamite woman for Elisha, the second “Jewish Carmelite”.

Though quite luxurious by Biblical standards…to us, it might seem to be a perfect description of a monastic cell. No need for a wardrobe for sets of clothes, no need for luxuries, no need for additional decorative objects. Yet it is totally practical and (one hopes) comfortable. Being on the roof…it even had a physical isolation from the rest of the house. Jewish Contemplatives do not seek the asceticism of Christian monks, but we ought to be aware that our real needs are actually very few, that we ought to maintain a simplicity of immediate environment as it encourages an uncluttered approach to our prayer life and daily routines. A simple private room/space is really all we need to sit down and try to talk to and listen to our God. A bookcase would be nice, perhaps. Or maybe the only book we really need is the Torah written on our hearts?

Distractions and diversions can so easily become the “unnecessary furniture” of our internal monastic cells….and keeping that spiritual and psychological cell uncluttered is a never-ending task.

In the Zohar (2:133a) and in the Tales of R.Nachman of Breslov (Tale of the Exchanged Children) this passage in the life of Elisha is treated mystically. The bed, table, chair, and lamp of II Kings 4:10 being related to items in the Mishkan and later Temple. (namely the Ark, the Ark cover/“Throne”, the Table of offering, and the Menorah). In the Zohar passage they are symbols of the Shekinah. In R.Nachman’s tale, the contemplative/tzaddik has to re-adjust the positions of these objects ever so slightly in order to effect tikkun.

It may be significant that, several times, R.Nachman states that the re-adjustment is a slight one: We are small. Anything we do is small next to God. But our tiny actions, our attempts to restore order, peace, harmony, love, hospitality, and generosity into our surroundings are potentially acts of major significance. For a contemplative whose primary field of action is spiritual, this is an act of faith which requires chutzpah to declare, and determination to maintain, day after day.

R.Aryeh Kaplan’s commentary on the “Elisha Room” imagery in R. Nachman’s tale reads: “God created evil in the world, so that the Israelites would be able to rectify it and thus become rulers of creation”. “Rulers of creation” sounds far too grand to me, but if we accept that (a) God created everything, both the things we call good and the things we call evil; and (b) that Man is intended to continue and perfect the work of Creation, then it is possible that we ourselves have been created to effect a sort of balance between gevurah and chesed ...not just by our physical actions, but also by our prayers and indeed by the integrity of the lives of prayer which we aim to lead.

Often we cannot see the results of our prayers. Often we are aware of how selfish and thoroughly unpleasant we can be, and on such days we might fear that our prayers are unacceptable. But if we are true to our professed (and streamlined) claim that we ask “One thing and One thing only…to dwell and meditate in the House of God”….then our small service might not, perhaps, make Israel the “ruler of creation”…but it might be of crucial importance in enthroning God in that “Room of Elisha.”

On this website I have attempted to show that the sort of Jewish neo-monasticism and contemporary Jewish eremitism which I advocate is not new, but that it has roots in Biblical Naziriteship, in Levitical lifestyles and in the Prophetic “schools”-as well as in the monasticism of the Essenes and (more specifically) the Therapeutae. I have indicated that the Biblical models have together inspired many respected Jewish mystics and Hassidim to live as hermits themselves (e.g. Isaac Luria, the Baal Shem Tov, Menachem Mendel of Kotsk) or to form contemplative communities.(e.g. Shalom Sharabi and Kalonymus Kalman Shapira). The Jewish Sufis of the Maimonides dynasty, the celibate “complete ascetics” of Bachya Ibn Pakuda, and the Mussar followers of Joseph Horwitz could also be added to the list.

The principal objection to the restoration or renewal of any such pietist and “ascetic” lifestyles is not so much that they are a minority interest (for inclusivity is very fashionable these days)...but is more often due to a belief that Judaism is a religion which puts action first and that lives exclusively dedicated to religious contemplation/study are regarded (in many denominations) as being selfish escapes or a waste of time and energy. The Venerable Shimon Bar Yohai and the contemplative practitioners in the last paragraph would contest that.

The second most common objection I have come across is that “Judaism” and “Asceticism” simply do not sit well together. Not only does this represent a rather odd neglect to “adopt and adapt” the ascetic Nazir principle and the Levitical model (which are “commanded” in the Torah) into a vibrant twenty-first century format ... it is perhaps quite simply due to an unfair and inaccurate association of asceticism with masochism.

It is not true to claim that Judaism does not have need of asceticism- but specifically Jewish asceticism consists not so much in physical penance or mortification as being content with what one is given and in streamlining one’s spirituality. The room of Elisha might be taken as a perfect example of such moderating simplicity. It took care of basic needs, was sufficiently comfortable, and yet it “kept things simple” and on an unpretentious scale.

I’d like to look at this idea of “Jewish Asceticism as streamlining” a little more closely with the aid of a passionate Prophet, a master Philosopher and a pragmatic Cat.

In Haftarah Noach, Isaiah (the passionate Prophet) writes:

“Why do you spend money 
On that which is not bread  
Or expend your energy  
On that which does not really benefit you.”

(Isaiah 55:2)

Nobody likes a killjoy- We all love a bit of shopping therapy- but Isaiah is right to ask and we know it.

On my kitchen wall hangs a quote from Moses ben Maimon (the master Philosopher) It reads:

“Our true needs are few in number.
Our superfluous needs are many,  
but the desire to fulfil them is endless”


During my morning coffee in the Supersol Cafetería the other day, I read the latest Garfield cartoon on the back of the newspaper:

In the first frame-a wildly excited John asks a decidedly uninterested Garfield to guess what he is hiding behind his back.

In the second frame a delighted John displays a square piece of wire mesh declaring

“Look what I’ve just bought in the hardware store—all I need now is a hole for it!”

In the third frame Garfield, the pragmatic Cat, thinks dispassionately:  
“The hole, I think, is in his head”.

I have a periodically irresistible habit of dropping into the “Multi-Cien” discount store on the way back up the hill to my hermitage. The shop is so named because everything used to sell at around 100 pesetas (less than a US dollar). Articles are not quite so cheap there these days, but they are still the cheapest one might find locally. You would be surprised (or horrified) at some of the tat I end up buying in the spirit of “John” when forgetful of the clear message in the Isaiah and Maimonides texts. Sometimes I’ve done it because I have found a genuinely useful bargain. Most often I’ve been silly. With my minimal and dwindling funds-very silly. My daily walk down the hill and back is meant to be a silent meditative exercise, but some days on the post-Multi-Cien return climb - I feel like I am carrying Bunyan’s pilgrim-load on my back.

Of course, we have a duty to enjoy and to be grateful for the good fortune we have… just as we have a duty to express this gratitude in the “charity” of acts of social justice. More than that, as Jews we are aware that enjoyment is almost a sacred duty. Spending a little money on our whims and fancies can lift our spirits, and it really can be a noble therapy if applied from time to time. In moderation it is a part of the Jewish celebration of life. But for “a Contemplative”, spending, acquiring, and possessing can so easily become a distraction and a burden.

Misuse of funds and of physical energies is a concern for all Jews. There is an equally tenacious but more clandestine form of “energy dissipation” which the contemplative in particular has to guard against: the creation and cultivation of superfluous Spiritual needs or engaging in Mystical shopping-therapy. The cycle of needless desire and acquisition can be at work there as well.

Studying the thoughts and discoveries of others is one of the ways in which we learn. For Jews the thoughts of our predecessors in mysticism can often be a safeguard and (almost but not quite) a route-map. It is true that we can be temporarily “carried away” into the world of deep prayer whilst engaged in such religious study. Sometimes this can be the very deepest prayer for we are only truly in contemplative prayer when we no longer realise that we are praying.

Similarly, the thoughts of our contemplative contemporaries, both in print and in the blogosphere, are often an exciting and refreshing stimulus to our own development. Quite obviously and laudably, we need to be faithful to our tradition and study the works of those who have gone before us and those who walk with us. But we can overdo this.

How many hours have I spent browsing “religious/spiritual” websites when I should have been standing in receptive prayer? Is it right that a contemplative should spend more time in such study than in undiluted solitary prayer? How often have I put off the hour of prayer by extending time spent on some less viscerally-exposed and stoic activity so that when the time came for Standing- all I had the energy for was a brief liturgical recitation?

I would be the first person to echo the Kotsker Rebbe’s dictum that the hour of prayer should be delayed until sufficient preparation had been made. (He declared that there were no clocks in his community, only souls.) He reminded us that the woodcutter is engaged in his trade even while sharpening his tools—but I still think that the number one distraction of both the aspiring and the experienced contemplative is to be excessively engaged in reading, talking, or writing (!) about spirituality/contemplation when the task at hand is meant to be action not theory. Praying is the MAIN task of the contemplative- but because it can often be demanding, we put it off, we skimp on it, we allow our energies to be spent elsewhere.

At the risk of sounding like a stuck record:

  • Contemplation is not about possessing or attaining it is about receiving. 
  • It cannot be taught or studied. We only learn by doing it ourselves. 
  • Contemplation is not about Me, or Them, or even Us-it is about God. 
  • All the contemplative really needs to do is stand still and listen.
  • Everything else is commentary.

Jewish asceticism on the contemplative path is a matter of clearing the way for one purpose only: We remove the obstacles our superfluous desires create in order to devote ourselves to God more whole-heartedly. Thus contemplative prayer itself becomes the remedy for the dissipated energy considered in Isaiah 55:2.

I did not notice it until after I had written this article, but the very next verse in Isaiah offers the very remedy I have just been suggesting. In it we read:


“Incline your ear and come to Me.
Hear and your soul shall live.”
(Isaiah 55:3)


But to do that you need to stop reading this and start praying.





October 20 2009


The Joy of Sukkot in the Midst of a Storm - October 2009

For the week-long festival of “Sukkot”, many Jews build a makeshift “sukkah” (shelter) from branches and vegetation in which they live (or just eat) during the festival. This is partly in order to “remember” Israel’s Biblical forty year period in the wilderness. It invites us to trust in the protective “cloud cover” of Divine Providence and to accept that all physical and ideological human “dwellings” are transitory.



The photo above is of my sukkah in Jakarta in 1995. How luxurious and bourgeois it all seems in comparison with the images you will have seen of Indonesia during these recent days of natural disaster. It seems almost callous of us to be building these decorative shelters at a time when so many in the Pacific region have died or are homeless as a result of flood and earthquake. We are not callous. Our "Season of Joy" is part of the remedy which can transform and assist us in times of trial, and though it cannot remove the agony of major tragedy and disaster, it has a message of optimism and equanimity which can temper it.

The Joy which is supposed to characterise this season celebrates a time which was no Nature ramble, or jolly summer-camp vacation. As Rabbi Irving Greenberg wrote in 1988:

“In the desert, the people of Israel met their God, ate the bread of heaven, and followed the pillar of fire. In that same desert, The Amalekites attacked, the water springs were bitter, the Israelites lusted after meat, the flocks were thirsty”.


The Joy of Sukkot is the joy of optimism in all circumstances-the “good” and the “bad”- and it is the fruit of gratitude for whatever we are provided with daily.

How can we feel joy at ANY time when we are aware that there is so much poverty, suffering and cruelty in our broken world? The sukkah in the photo would be a palace to millions of people right now and at any time of year.

For those fulfilling the commandment to build and dwell in a sukkah this particular week of storms and earthquakes, it will surely seem a bitter-sweet event...but coping with the mix of Chesed and Gevurah in creation is to accept reality and to avoid escapism. The message of the Sukkah makes this clear:

We are given a choice... We can moan and grumble when the roof leaks.. or we can try to keep our spirits up and focus on the beauty of the stars we can see through the hole. We can give up the task of re-building when the winds blow the makeshift walls down or we can be optimistic and remember that all we have is temporary anyway....and just plod on with hope.

It is by reflecting on such symbols as the sukkah when we are safe and in "good" circumstances that we can generate the sort of positive outlook that stands people in good stead in times of crisis.

That is all well and good when we are talking about minor domestic difficulties and personal trials, But what use is this to someone whose entire family has just died in a flood, or to someone whose REAL house is now a pile of rubble?

Not much.

Which is why we try to get practical assistance to those who are struggling in the wake of tsunami, flood, and earthquake at the moment. It is why we do whatever we can daily to heal the mess our species is creating. The contemplative believes that prayer has a role to play in this too even though it may not be so readily measured.

Relying on Divine Providence does not mean that we expect magic to be performed on our behalf. Our prayers for the victims of these natural disasters and for those trying to repair the damage are not an attempt to overturn all laws of nature. They are an attempt to generate positive thought and energy, and to make a plea for inspiration and comfort to descend in the hearts of those in the midst of difficult times. Perhaps this is a form of “positive visualisation”, a healing stream of optimism whose beneficial effects we can only hope for. Some of us claim to have experience of the power and effectiveness of such prayer, for others it is a form of hope and trust in God whatever the outcome. All of us can surely see the value of the psychological support effected by solidarity and positive encouragement... and its results are tangible. For me, praying for the needs of others is an extension of this kind of activity.

One thing is certain ...a Jewish Contemplative cannot be an escapist.

Our faith in Divine Providence is not quietism. Our belief that our prayers make a difference is our active community service. Our prayer is meant to encourage and to generate positive and creative events in ourselves and in other people. As the RSGB Yom Kippur prayer book has recently reminded us : Our prayer may not “avert the harsh decree” but it can “transform it”. It may actually give hope to those who have no hope. It may be one of the ways which the "sukkah of God's Presence" is extended over His wild and broken earth.



Oct 1 2009

Elul: Hide and Seek for Contemplatives - (August 2009)

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A religious “contemplative” is someone who is engaged in an intimate relationship with God.

That relationship becomes the main activity, motivation, and even occupation of such a person. For a Jewish Contemplative the relationship is lived out through the activities of devekut (a conscious attempt to be passionately attentive to the Presence of God), tefillah (liturgical prayer), hegyon ha-lev (a meditative and prayerful study of sacred texts) and hitbodedut (a dialogue of informal prayer in solitude).


When one considers that the “object” of the contemplative’s desire is ultimately unknowable, inexplicable, intangible and utterly beyond human description or comprehension it might well seem rather odd to describe a contemplative life-style as a “relationship”.

Yet that is how I experience it and it is the way the vast majority of Jewish contemplatives and mystics have experienced it since biblical times. In the Bible, we are told that the God of Israel is our Father, our King, and even our Lover or Marital Partner. In the daily experience of prayer that is how it can feel even though we know we are talking similes and metaphors to describe the indescribable.

Biblically, God is the One who insists that “If you seek me with all your heart I will let you find me” (Jeremiah 29:14).

David reminds us: “If you seek Him he will be found by you, but if you forsake Him, He will reject you forever” (I Chronicles 28:9).

If we truly experienced the feeling of “rejection forever” that David spoke of, the chances are that many of us would give up the search to find God. This does not mean to say that contemplatives always, or even often, feel “close” to Him. Our way is more often than not a case of believing that the sun is there even when it doesn’t shine.

As David reminds us, there are many times when God “hides” Himself because of our faults. In playing “Hide and Seek for Contemplatives”, there are times when we simply can’t be bothered looking for God, and times when we do not wish to be found ourselves. Times when we push God away like spiteful children losing a game, and times when when we try to hide him in a cupboard out of embarrassment or shame. This can sometimes be due to remorse about things we have done or said or thought ourselves. Sometimes it can be because we have chickened-out in a political, social,or theological world in which it is unfashionable to admit we want to know God intimately.


God sometimes seems very close to us and we rejoice. But even when we feel we are doing our best, there can be a strong sense of His distance or absence.

Sometimes He hides from us in a sort of dance, in a sort of game, in a sort of lesson, in a sort of method we don’t really understand, and sometimes struggle against. It can go on for years like that. The absence of any sensation that God might be within hailing distance is a common and recurring state in the life of most full-time contemplatives. This is not punishment, cruelty, or the Divine toying with us like puppets. But it may be a refining test-situation. It may be a positive tool which ultimately helps us to see more of God and less of ourselves in the contemplative process. It can remind us, to paraphrase a wonderful Carthusian saying, that a contemplative is engaged with “the God of consolations and not the consolations of God”.



If we consider the Isaiah 50 text which heads this article, it may even be allowing us to share a Divine perspective.


We must also realise that our relationship can be intimate but our attention span is severly limited, and though we may describe the contemplative life as being a relationship, it can never be a relationship between equals.

Yes, He will let us find Him...but we cannot make Him stay.

Yes, He will wrestle with us for a time, but at dawn He will be gone.

Yes, we may sense His Presence for a moment,
but we cannot dwell in that moment for long and live.


Maybe Rebbe Nachman of Breslov came the closest to describing the situation we are in. (My interpretation of the following symbols is not the Breslov one, and it is not as complex or as kabbalistic an interpretation as R.Nachman himself may have intended.) He speaks of a “Spring” and a “Heart” which are in love but are separated by space and each located on the summit of a mountain. When the “Heart” leaves its summit and runs to try to reach the Spring it feels anguish because, in the valley, it can no longer have an uninterrupted view of the Beloved on the opposite summit. So the intimacy of their love is expressed in periods of eternal gazing and unfulfilled longing....or bursts of rushing to achieve a union in almost total loss of vision. It is a view which captures the paradox that the contemplative is in a passionate relationship with an immanent God, while simultaneously knowing the otherness of God and the chasm produced by His transcendence.


Spring and Heart illustration
(1994 Shabbos Prayer book)



Each year Jews enter into a period of deep reflection and prayer which begins with the month of Elul. In Aramaic, "elul" means "search".

The month of Elul leads into the “Ten Days”, a period of confession, self analysis, and charitable giving at the end of which the Jew seeks forgiveness and the union of “atonement” with God on Yom Kippur. Almost without pause, this segues into another festival, that of Sukkot during which we declare our trust in the protecting cloud of God’s Presence.

For many Jews this period is the time of year when they become their most active in both prayer and in self examination. For those who live out the festival calendar profoundly, there is a sense that one should “seek God while He may be found” with the month of Elul being an annual “retreat-time” par excellence. For such people the Ten Days of Awe can be extraordinarily charged and numinous. This can even be the case for contemplatives who have an intense prayer regimen all year round.


For many Jews, the season provides an uncomfortable (but somehow also welcomed) opportunity to take stock and it gives them a formally sanctioned encouragement to engage in a more intense prayer-life than may be thought appropriate or even possible at other times.


But the High Holidays period can sometimes be a sort of one-off binge which does not truly connect with the time preceding and following it. There is also the risk that our confessions can become rather pathetic exercises in perfectionism unless we remember that we are also confessing in the plural for “kol Yisrael”. Though we are all of us capable of the most appalling failures which often take enormous effort to identify and root out- I wonder if for some of our confessions, God might feel like the Archbishop who described listening to pious monastic confessions as akin to being “stoned to death by popcorn.”


The month of Elul and the Ten Days, are a time when the game of hide and seek is liturgically intensified. In a sense, God was/is there all along and we create the liturgy to highlight that.

The long haul of the penitential period which opens with Elul, and which closes at the end of Yom Kippur can be a cathartic experience, but it is not magic. Neilah is best seen as being a part of a continuing journey rather than as a triumphal destination. A contemplative also knows that time is really an illusion. Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow are simultaneous in God: The still point of musaf Yom Kippur can be like a small flame inside the soul which burns all year round as a memory and a reference point.


I don’t think it an accident that Yom Kippur is followed so suddenly by Sukkot. Sukkot reminds us we are on a journey that has not ended. Sukkot also reminds us that our usual experience of God is not the passionate embrace of Yom Kippur but the experience of being under/in the moving cloud of His Presence.

In this way of seeing things, though God has concealed Himself, His presence is not altogether withdrawn but there is a sense in which this kind of “Hiding” is for our own good. We are reminded that Moses saw the “back” and not the “face” of God and that Elijah covered his face with a mantle-each for their own protection. The times in which we are in the “cleft of the rock” are rare events, and the obscuring cloud is actually our friend:

“For He will hide me in His Tabernacle on the day of distress,
He will conceal me in the shelter of his tent.
Upon a rock He will lift me.”
(Psalm 27:5)



We are given the Penitential/Holiday season as a chance to double up our half-hearted efforts to find God. Its message is really that He is more present in the world if we make Him so. But that is also a description of what a Jewish Contemplative is trying to do in every moment and not just once a year, or even once a week.

Every moment is a potential time when He might let us find Him.

But it sometimes involves us seeing in the dark. It sometimes involves us standing still in order to see that He is right next to us. It may involve the ability to survive on the manna of hope when faith is all but lost. It certainly involves patience and determination. And in this game of Hide and Seek, whether we are playing it during the High Holidays or on a normal weekday- it is the energy and consistency with which we make the search that counts: for we are told we can find Him..... but only if we search with all our heart.







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