(Photo:The Light of Hanukah in the author's hermitage)
Hanukah is a Festival which
celebrates many miracles, but in these
times of economic gloom there could hardly be a more appropriate tale than that
of the jar of oil which fed the reconsecrated Temple Menorah. One remaining and
fortuitously rediscovered jar of undefiled lamp-oil sent out a Light of
optimism and strength. Though it was deemed sufficient for just one day's lighting, it lasted for eight days. As a sideline to the greater miracles of the
recapture of Jerusalem and the rededication of the Temple, it proclaimed the
virtue of stretching one’s resources
while waiting for new "supplies" to be created. The tale is found in the Talmud Bavli at
Shabbos 21b and reads:
“On the twenty-fifth of Kislev [commence]
the days of Hanukkah, which are eight on which a lamentation for the dead and
fasting are forbidden. For when the Greeks entered the Temple, they defiled all
the oils therein, and when the Hasmonean dynasty prevailed against and defeated
them, they made search and found only one cruse of oil which lay with the seal
of the High Priest, but which contained sufficient for one day's lighting only;
yet a miracle was wrought therein and they lit [the lamp] therewith for eight
days. The following year these [days] were appointed a Festival with [the
recital of] Hallel and thanksgiving.”
It is some time since I
published an essay on this website which
was either autobiographical or highly personal. This one is going to be
both. In 2009 I published an article on this website
called Hanukah Gelt: Trusting in G-d. Looking at that article now, it was strangely
prophetic as it describes what one does when one is living on a shoestring and
examining the Divine messages such a
situation might be revealing. Writing now, three years later, I am in just such
a position — as my funds are no longer “dwindling” (as they are described in
that 2009 essay) they are actually almost exhausted. I am faced with several options: to give up my
project of “living as a Dedicated Jewish Contemplative” in order to find salaried employment; to
appeal to the readership of this website to come forward with suggestions for
work I might be able to do from home; or to hang on a little while longer,
making my one jar of oil last as long as it can (while waiting for
opportunities to develop/be found/find me.)
I am at a personal crossroads in this—but I
can tell you that I am content whichever of those options should be the will of
G-d. Although it will forever place me
on the fringe of Halakhic Judaism, I still believe that there is a place in contemporary Judaism
for people like me who want to live as (pardon the expression) Contemplative Jewish
monks or nuns— and so I want to give the possibility that I may be able to
achieve this myself every possible chance before I give up trying!
It is with all that in mind
that I am republishing an extract from
that 2009 article here today in 2012. Through the mercy and grace of HaShem,
I have not changed in my total trust in Divine Providence one iota—but in the spirit
of Hanukah, I am taking this opportunity to repeat my “publication of the miracle”
that has enabled my own limited resources to last (with a little stretching) for the last
nine years of solitary contemplative living in studying the Torah of the Heart.
At the same time, I am taking a practical
step in advertising a cause that (if it is for the sake of heaven) needs
support if it is to continue. I am not asking
for donations. I am simply declaring my
availability for appropriate paid work which I might be able to do from home. We are required to have Trust in G-d but if I do not at least mention this situation, nobody would be aware of it and there may be those reading who could be G-d's agents here. All comments and suggestions are therefore most welcome via
this address.
Hanukah Gelt: Trusting in
G-d
(from December 2009)
A “contemplative Jew” and a “Jewish
Contemplative” are not quite the same thing. I use the term “Jewish
Contemplative” to describe a lifestyle,
an occupation, and maybe a vocation. In
short, the practice of a dedicated and
intentional prayerful lifestyle akin to solitary monasticism or eremitism. This is decided rarety in Jewish history and
in twenty-first century Jewish practice it is virtually non-existent.
In the past, the only Jews to have lived this
way on a (comparatively) long term basis were certain prophets—like
Elijah and Elisha and their “schools”; the monastic Essenes and Therapeutae in
the Second Century; and certain mystically inclined individuals in
comparitively modern times— usually from Pietist and Hassidic groups.
The more usual Jewish way to live a contemplative lifestyle has not
produced many such temporary "dedicated contemplatives"; rather, it
has usually been practiced by Jews engaged in parallel and full
time lives of gainful employment and the raising of a
family.
So how have I managed it?
Well, to put it in a nutshell- I have been living exclusively on my very modest savings and on a very large helping of bitachon- trust in Divine Providence. The former is disappearing rapidly but the latter has never failed me.
Haftaras Shabbos Hanukah
Zechariah 4:6
I am currently in the Orthodox process of converting ki halachah, but I underwent a conversion process under the auspices of a Reform Beit Din in 1992. Before converting to Judaism I had been a Discalced Carmelite friar. Elijah was seen as having been the Carmelite Order’s mythical founder. It has often occurred to me how remarkably unexpected it is that now, thirty years later, I should be trying to live and promote a sort of “ Jewish Carmelite” renewal.
When I ask myself why I was not born Jewish, the only fully satisfactory answer that I can think of is that converts bring with them certain insights and skills which are intended to be used to enrich the community they join. Just as Avraham ben Maimon believed certain Sufi practices to be a memory of the original Jewish “prophetic-school” ones, I can see the reflection of the Jewish monastic tradition (Therapeutae) in both the Carthusian and the Carmelite traditions of Christian monasticism. Some days I wonder if all this is just me trying to draw a bull’s-eye around an arrow-head already shot, but most days I can see that had I not been a Carmelite I would not have had the positive experience of monasticism nor such a direct contact with a “spark” from the Elijan tradition that those years gave me. They gave me confidence through experience and not just theory: confidence in G-d’s Providence and confidence in seeing the value of a full-time life of prayer.
It also means that I had a fortuitous exposure to Teresa of Avila (a Christian of Jewish descent) who in the sixteenth century, struggled with the same problems of funding a contemplative lifestyle as I do now.
Once when discussing the lax spirit and lack of funds in a new convent of the Discalced Carmelite reform, someone suggested to Teresa of Avila that the nuns needed to beg more often. She replied that it was precisely because they were "out and about" in the town seeking charitable support that they were without it. She was a firm believer that if the nuns had remained in their cloister and prayed for support, it would miraculously appear.
She did not expect it to drop from heaven unaided. She expected it to come from the purses of rich benefactors as a direct result of the nuns’ unquestioning trust in G-d. Her firm belief was definitely that “G-d would provide” a miracle of that Divine/human kind… if the nuns had their prayer lives and their reliance on G-d to the forefront.
I am Jewish and not Christian, and so I do not go all the way along that Teresian path. By writing this at all I am, quite transparently now, advertising my funding difficulties as well as my openness to the idea of part-time employment in order to survive. I am reminded of the Jewish joke:
Sam: Dear Lord, please help me win the lottery!Heavenly Voice: I will Sam, I will....but first my boy, you have to buy a ticket.
Nevertheless, on a day-to-day basis, Teresa's somewhat quietist approach is one that I am often “accused” of taking myself. I will admit it appeals to me but then, so far, it seems to have worked. It is true that in the last year things have become decidedly tight, and like anyone I have moments when I fret about the future. But if I see my personal situation in comparison with people who are really poor- with Jacob, I can say that I certainly have “enough”.
One of the legends of Hanukah is that the last remaining cruse of oil used for the menorah burned for a “miraculous” eight days (during the re-dedication of the temple). Both Elijah and Elisha “provided oil” for the practical sustenance of their supplicants. One tale relates to oil being used for a spiritual purpose (the temple light), the others for a secular one (food and income). I live in hope that my pot of oil will last for at least “eight days” to get my personal “dedication project” off the ground.
One of the legends of Hanukah is that the last remaining cruse of oil used for the menorah burned for a “miraculous” eight days (during the re-dedication of the temple). Both Elijah and Elisha “provided oil” for the practical sustenance of their supplicants. One tale relates to oil being used for a spiritual purpose (the temple light), the others for a secular one (food and income). I live in hope that my pot of oil will last for at least “eight days” to get my personal “dedication project” off the ground.
So, I continue to take a “Teresian” approach to my current lifestyle and trust that if G-d wants me to be a “full-time dedicated contemplative”, He will provide opportunities or strategies for my survival through either inspiration or action.
If I run out of funds, that may be a way of indicating that my personal “cause” is not truly “for the sake of heaven”. I am prepared also to accept that as a possibility. Like David I can say: “If I find favour in G-d’s eyes, He will restore me and let me see His Dwelling Place - but if He says He is not pleased with me, then I am ready, may He do with me whatever He wills” (II Samuel 15:25).
Or perhaps it would indicate that my time as a Jewish Contemplative on long-term retreat was intended to be temporary all along: if so it would be following a more usual Jewish (and Sufi) pattern.
But no matter what the future may hold, the essence of the “trusting approach” is that whatever human steps we might take to “provide” for ourselves or our communities- HaShem is ultimately the only true “Provider”.
Is this the same attitude that we find in the Haftarah quotation which heads this article, do you think?
“Not by might and not by power but by my Spirit says the Lord”Each year, we read the Joseph narrative during the Hanukah season. People often comment that the tale is not so much a story of man’s relationship with G-d as one which focuses on family relationships. It does not seem to focus on the notion of “Divine intervention” unless it is to be seen at work through the various dreams. Thanks to a brilliant commentary on Mikeitz by Nehama Leibowitz I can see that this is not really the case. She highlighted that perfectly when she pointed out the emphatic re-iteration in the following verses from Genesis 41:
(Zechariah 4:6)
In verse 25: “What G-d is about to do he hath declared to Pharaoh”
In verse 28: “What G-d is about to do he hath shown to Pharaoh”
In verse 32: “and G-d will shortly bring it to pass”.
Similarly, in the next parshah, Vayigash, we read that though the brothers had sold Joseph into slavery, Joseph ascribed the real authorship of this action to G-d when he said:
“G-d has sent me ahead of you to ensure your survival and to save your lives by a great deliverance.”
(Genesis 45:4-7)
The extent to which we should rely on “G-d’s action” and the extent to which we should rely on “human action” is at the heart of the history of the festival of Hanukah too.
In the festival Haftarah, the menorah vision of Zechariah (Zech.4:3) describes two trees which flank the candelabrum and which provide the oil. One is taken to be Zerubabel- a messiah figure for the secular and physical, and the other is taken to be Joshua - a messiah figure for the priestly and spiritual. They are two complementary forces seen as separate in methods of action but united in purpose.
In the written history of the festival’s origin, the tale of the Maccabees ended up in the Apocrypha and not the Bible. The first book of Maccabees focuses on the Rebel/Zealot movement’s victory which was attained by physical force, while the second book focuses on the ideological cause and martyrdom of the Pietist movement’s faith in the spiritual or supernatural. Again, we see here two very distinct attitudes sharing a common purpose.
They remind me of the way Philo described the contemporary Essenes and Therapeutae of Jewish monasticism as being the “active” and “contemplative” branches of the same Jewish movement. Two ways of expressing a dedicated communal lifestyle.
Perhaps the Haftarah’s message is not so much that action and prayer are complementary but that they both need something else, something more, in order to be “in-spired” - in order to have the “Breath” or “Spirit” of G-d in them - namely an explicit connection with G-d Himself. Taking that point of view, the text might be read as:
“Not just by the might of political action
Nor just by the power of spiritual faith
But by the spirit of G-d which joins them together
in effective and complementary balance.”
In the developing and rather confused history of the festival of Hanukah, it was not so much the Maccabees’ victory or the Pietists’ martyrdom that was placed centre-stage: The rabbis of the Talmud (Shabbat 21b) placed the miracle of the long-lasting oil in that prime position. In doing so they were choosing the “spiritual and miraculous” emphasis. I think that is also the intended meaning of the Haftarah quote. Might and Power are predictable yet fallible. Breath and Spirit, inspiration and revelation, can be wildly unpredictable, but they can sometimes act as their beacon: a ner tamid which lights the way forward. It might also be a beacon which warns of a way not to be taken—and it can, at times, be a reminder of being ever in the present in spiritual constancy.
Despite Jacob’s vow in Genesis 28:20, I do not know to what extent I should rely on G-d to provide for me, I do not know to what extent we should believe that our prayers have a direct effect on the progress of the cosmos (from assisting our friend’s struggles in illness, to world politics), I do not know to what extent we should fight wars to achieve anything believed to be “good”. Despite choosing to walk a comparatively quietist path, the working out of this “Maccabean enigma” is a work still very much in progress for me, and no doubt for you too.
But I do feel that it is the specific duty of the Dedicated Jewish Contemplative to be the “Joshua”, the “Pietist”, the “Teresian” above all else and to declare explicitly that all is in the hands of heaven. It is unrealistic for anyone to think that all Jews be both Joshua and Zerubabel, some specialisation is both inevitable and beneficial. Both trees feature in the vision that feeds the lamp.
A contemplative’s special task is to pray… and if that is done, it is my hope that “action” will be done:
by G-d as a “miracle of inspiration”;
by G-d through “human hands”;
and
by G-d through the miracles of His Providence.
As the daily Modim prayer reminds us, those miracles are not confined to the festival of Hanukah but are with us at every moment of every day.
N R Davies
from Dec 1 2009
from Dec 1 2009
