Showing posts sorted by relevance for query asking questions. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query asking questions. Sort by date Show all posts

Contemplative Prayer: Asking Questions, Expecting Answers- (Jan 2010)

 
Haftarah Shemot (for Sephardim)
Jeremiah 1:11

In the Torah portion called Shemot, Moses asks God many questions and then begs for signs of “proof”. God then grants those signs.

In the Haftarah  reading for Shemot, God reveals various signs to Jeremiah and then asks Jeremiah some questions.  The image of an almond branch, a symbol of rapid new growth and of the priesthood, seems to have made sense to Jeremiah.

From time to time we too ask God questions in our prayers. Hopefully we have learnt to listen for His answer.  Though we may have to wait years, at certain special times our questions may be answered with lightning speed.  Sometimes, such a response will come in the sudden illumination of a specific text in the liturgy we are in the midst of praying, or perhaps in the Hegyon Ha-Lev ( lectio divina) of a psalm chosen at random, or perhaps in something someone says to us in the hours immediately after our prayer-question. 

But there are also times when we receive minor "revelations" direct.  God has a Voice. Though we don’t use our physical eyes and ears to do so, we may both “hear” and “see” it.  Our scriptures are full of such direct communication yet “modern  man” is shy of  acknowledging that it (or something resembling such communication) still happens. This reserve is perhaps born of humility  (whether it be spiritually fashionable or genuine). More often it is due to the sheer terror of being labelled as a religious weirdo.   We are not prophets like Moses, nor even prophets like Jeremiah,  but that does not mean that we are somehow, mysteriously immune to the communications of the God they “heard” and “saw”.   Their God has not gone anywhere.  He still has a Voice  and those who are looking for Him still hear and see Him, albeit in a more “homely” way.  (Moses and Jeremiah surely qualify for the epithet “weirdo” anyway, so we are in good company, relax.)

So, having got that out of the way, and always allowing that such revelations can be the product of psychosis and  delusion - let’s assume that, as contemplatives, we are talking to God (or perhaps “a God” or “an aspect of God”) who is capable of answering us directly within our souls.

Given that, let’s ask:  How should we relate to “signs”?   What value do they have?  Should we ask “questions” in contemplative prayer anyway?

It is six years since I asked a question in my prayers and waited for an answer.  This does not mean that I received an answer or answers which produced some sort of “enlightenment” that makes further questioning unnecessary. It simply means that I am not praying in that way these days.  I’m pretty sure I will need to ask more questions before I’m done, but six years ago it was a common occurrence in my prayers, as much of the time I was asking about the route through the maze of contemplative prayer and contemplative lifestyle choices.

Then as now I prefer to undertake the interior journey without a route map and without paying too much attention (if any) to the experiences of others.  I do this because I feel that the journey is totally unique and particular to each individual anyway, and because I believe that following in someone else’s footsteps does not lead to a soul finding its own road, its own path, but only to a substitute: being like someone else.

For anyone sharing that view of the contemplative life, the only Map to follow is the Torah of the Heart, the only Road to walk is the one which God unrolls like a narrow carpet before you, a few steps, or one step at a time.   It is only wide enough to take you alone.  

For such a contemplative: All questions that are asked then HAVE to be asked of God Himself and God alone.

So- on those occasions when our answer comes not through those we meet in emails, or in books, or in the street, but directly-  how does He answer?

In the waiting silence of a “standing” prayer, we are hoping that we might be granted an “angelic” inspiration: a personally addressed and gift-wrapped message which answers our question directly or obliquely.

Most often obliquely.

In this we may sense immediate kinship with Jeremiah.

We will “hear/see/sense” a phrase, an object, a symbol, a single word or sound which we are then left to decipher.  Sometimes this happens during the prayer itself, sometimes afterwards.   Frequently it happens just after we have completed our formal prayer session and have moved on to consider the evening menu, or reached for a mop- In that moment it can hit us like a smack in the face or materialise before the mind’s eye like a Cheshire cat.   Sometimes we have to examine the message, or its “angel” to see if it is (i) a divine message; (ii) a valuable subconsciously generated message from the core of our being; or(iii) just the random mis-firing of our imaginations.  Or a flu-virus.  Or too much coffee.  

Most often we “know in our bones” which it is. If it really is a gift-wrapped personalised “angelic” message then usually (though not always) it becomes clear by being confirmed as such by “signs”.  (Please bear with me, this really is not as outlandish at it might at first seem).

For example: Someone suddenly “senses” a “door” in pictorial form during prayer, apparently meaningless, and apparently totally unrelated to any thought or event preceding it.   Or perhaps they sense a phrase like “I am the Door, Why are you here?” which they imagine spoken or written in their minds out of the blue. One reaction is to be surprised by the event and discount it as a passing freaky thought.  Another reaction is to feel that something significant has occurred. Either could be the right one.  Moments later, they open the Bible at random and are surprised to read “Lift up your heads, O Gates” by “chance”. The next hour, they pick up a  secular book which is their light-reading for the week, turn the page and “coincidentally” encounter a long passage dwelling on the image of a door held ajar.  The following morning they lose the key to their own front door.  Such chains of meaningful coincidences, a series in Jungian synchronicity, are common.   They happen to people who are sensitive to their surroundings whether or not they believe in God and regardless of their religious affiliation or lack of it.     But when they happen to contemplatives, they can, in some cases, be clear indicators that what seemed to be a work of the imagination was and is more than just that alone.  It is a sign.  In this case, a sign to the contemplative that they are to reflect on the symbols of  “door” and “key” or the “perceived door text”  in order to unroll that carpet just a little further into the future.

I think that I found an echo of this process in the text chosen to head this commentary.  Jeremiah “sees” an almond rod, God/he questions its significance, and God confirms Jeremiah’s interpretation as a correct one.   This process is repeated in the “revelation” of a boiling kettle (Jeremiah1:13).   Later, (possibly when Jeremiah has honed his prophetic sensibilities and “listening skills”), he is not put off by the choice of a pair of cotton underpants as a vehicle for an angelic message (Jeremiah13:1-11) nor does he need  much assistance in understanding the meaning of that message.  Jeremiah is nothing if not bizarre in his visionary materials, but many of us could match his almonds, kettle and underwear in our prayerfully imaginative moments.

In this week’s Torah portion, I am irked by the “signs” Moses asks for and receives (the snake-stick, the leprous hand cured, the water becoming blood) because these are “proof-signs” which could quite easily have been matched by the guile and skill of the Egyptian magicians. On the other hand, I am quite at ease with the commonplace “signs” of synchronicity which I have just described.  But I do not believe they are necessary.  They are like St Therese’s sweets: something to make our spiritual journey a little bit more fun.  But too much of them and we get either hyper-active or greedy and fat.  Fortunately, ninety-nine percent of the time, they don’t come if we ask for them….only when we least expect them.  As I have written elsewhere, the “signs” we need are usually already there, and we need nothing more than simple attentiveness to our ordinary circumstances to see them as true angels.    The sort of “signs” I have written about today are definitely an occasional treat rather than our daily bread.



But should we ask questions in our contemplative prayer?
Should we expect, even in a veiled form, that we be given signs at all?



There are definitely crisis points in our spiritual lives during which we have to cry out for them.  If it suits Him we may be granted favours.  If it suits Him, God may choose to keep the sweetie drawer firmly locked for our own good.  But we are all children spiritually and though we do grow up we never lose that child-like “role”.  We can expect therefore to be treated as any good parent would treat a growing child.  That’s not too bad is it?


But we are also servants.  And we know, for sure, that asking too many questions and expecting too many signs is inappropriate behaviour.  We are rarely told the answers to our personal life-questions anyway.  The Voice may often speak in imperatives but it never makes our choices for us.  When we reach the point where choices are made, the silence is always deafening though we often “know” how our eventual choice has been received once we have made it.
 

The way of the contemplative comes somewhere between the way of the child and the way of the servant.

By accepting whatever we are given on a daily basis,
balancing on the unfolding carpet as it inches across the chasm;

By  dwelling in the Contemplative Goal
and not dwelling on the Contemplative Process-
Making the door to our own unique path materialise before us;

By seeing the signs which are already there for what they are,
as keys to answer many of our questions;

Then we can be just a little bit like Moses and be aware that all ground is holy ground. That God’s Voice can be heard in ordinary things.  That, extraordinarily, God is quite capable of speaking to us directly if we let Him.



(This article was first published on January 14 2009 as a Haftarah Commentary on the private website of the “Beit El Community of Jewish Contemplatives”)

 

 

 


The Ark of Trust and the Altar of Insight – October 2012

Parshas Lech Lecha enjoins us to “Go Forth” with Abraham in trust and faith. We should be “afraid of nothing”- but we should “fear the Lord”.

  The “fear” of the Lord is awe in His Presence not apprehension of what He might will for us, or how He might judge us. Though the latter is something we are always aware of, it should be without any terror of the God who we know loves us. 

 In Parshas Lech Lecha (at Gen 16:13), Sarah calls God “El Roi” (the God who sees) and in the associated Haftarah, we are also told that “His discernment is past searching out” (Isaiah40:28). He is able to see the future which is ultimately always hidden from us, and He is able to see our true intentions and most hidden thoughts. Our task is to try to see ourselves as He sees us and do something about it if we are missing our targets somehow. In this sense, we approach Him as “El-Roi” (the God who enables seeing) as we are often too afraid to face our own weaknesses without His help.

  One of the core messages of Parshas Lech Lecha is:

 If we do our part, God will be there for us and help us a hundredfold.

 So what exactly is “our part”?

 To answer that, I'd like to combine the image of an ark from Parshas Noach with a reference to Abraham's altar in Parshas Lech Lecha. Our small but essential “part” is that we each build an “ark” of trust and faith as our preparation for action, and an altar of prayer and contemplation to open our eyes to the Divine gift of Insight (daas). That ark of faith is bitachon: the kind of faith which is not so much a theoretical exercise concerned with theological questions— but a religious experience which is a personal and practical trust in Divine Providence (Hashgacha Pratis).

 I see this idea at work in this week’s Parshah. In that first verse from Genesis 12, we are told to pack up our things and get going. We are not told where we are going or why. But we are told that we will be shown the answer to the first question at some point. Our education in the spiritual life means that we have to relate to HaShem as willing servants and obedient children. If we sense strongly that a certain course of action is “required of us”—we are expected to trust the inspiration and hope that we are not mistaken in trying to discern the Divine Will. If,as fallible humans, we have misunderstood, we must also trust that we will be “shown” our mistake/misunderstanding, once we have taken that crucial first step forward. Both the first step and all subsequent steps are acts of trust.

 This kind of trust can remove our anxious fear. We are reminded in this parshah that it brings about a Divine blessing in itself:

 “And Abraham trusted in God, and God counted it to him for righteousness
 (Gen 15:6)

 Even if we have made a mistake and misjudged what we assume to be a Divine inspiration, He will show us our mistake at the appropriate time, and what is more—This Master and Parent helps his dependents pick up the bits and pieces after the crash. For in the Haftarah of Lech Lecha we read:

 “Fear not, for I am with you
  (Isaiah 41:10)

 We are told that God appeared to Abraham after Abraham had built an altar (Gen 12:8). This reminds us that most often God does not make His Presence felt or His Will known in our lives unless we first ask for them to be revealed. Just as we build a spiritual ark of trust in which to “travel forward” in life,so must we build the altar of our formal and informal prayers to invoke His continued guidance at each stage of the journey. This asking is not necessarily verbally and specifically expressed. By intending to dedicate the day newly begun to His service, by presenting ourselves before Him in liturgical prayer each day, by standing in His presence in contemplative attention—we are asking with our bodies, our minds, and our hearts already.

 ....................... 

 What other advice does this parshah give those like us who might need to be shown how to develop this “Trust in God” when we on a spiritual journey which has no road map—When we are not sure if we are making any progress—Not sure if we are doing something which is of any use to Him at all?

 In Genesis 17:1, we read

 “I am El Shaddai, walk before Me and be whole-hearted.

 The phrase “walk before Me” indicates “living with a purpose united to God’s will”,but I prefer to read it literally as an English phrase, “Walk in front of Me.” It is then saying: 

 “Put what you feel is My will into practice, and by doing that you will have laid a royal carpet down for Me to walk upon and enter your world as outpouring compassion.” 

 It also represents an astonishing gift of independence. In listening as Abraham did, we are hereby divinely commanded to act as pioneers in our own personal spiritual journeys—trusting in our own instinctive and informed judgment. In practice, this means attempting to “stand on our own two feet” even though we know we owe everything to The One who calls all things into existence step by step, event by event, moment by moment. Within the framework of our covenant and its mitzvos, we are emissaries of the Divine Unity through our very diversity and individuality.

 .................... 

 In Genesis 13:3, We are told that Abraham returned to BeitEl

 “where his tent had been at the beginning." 

 This reminds us that when we have erred, our first port of call should be our “station” in prayer. For Jewish contemplatives, this is our primary “place” in time and space, and for all we know it may have been assigned to us “at the beginning” of all creation.

 It also reminds us that there is no shame in re-examining our path if we should find that we have taken a wrong turning. For those who trust in God, there are no “wrong” turnings because they will have been following the perceived intentions of the Master and Father to the best of their ability, all along. If we do what we do “for the sake of heaven”, all the diversions and “wrong” turnings which we may make in that process will be revealed as having been ultimately “for the good”.



 N R Davies 
(from an unpublished article written in October 2010)

Jacob's Angels and the House of Prayer - (December 2011)

Parshat Vayeitzei  opens with the story of Jacob’s dream of a ladder and its angels. It describes Jacob’s encounter with the Divine at the Place which Jacob then called the “gate” of Heaven. (Genesis 28:17).

He named the place of revelation Beit El, the House of God.

In one sense, this “place” is the future Temple Mount in Jerusalem. But it is also the “part” of God we might call “the Temple in Heaven”- a place of encounter and revelation which may be found in the hearts of all who seek God in humility and awe. We “go” there when we daven the liturgy, when we practice receptive contemplative prayer (hitbonenut), and when we engage in discursive private prayer (hitbodedut).

In  Haftarat Vayeitzei  (for Sefardim) we read the following:

“At Beit El he found him, and there he will speak with us.”
Hosea 12:5

Much academic ink has been used in translating and interpreting this verse, with variants including:

He (Jacob) found Him (God) at Beit El
He (God found him (Jacob) at Beit El
He/he (the angel) found him (Jacob) at Beit El

and

There He (God) will speak to HIM (Jacob)
There He spoke to US(Jacob’s descendents)


Most of the variations in translation/interpretation seem to come from the fact that the Masorete text uses “imanu” (with us) whilst the Septuagint uses “imo”. I do not speak either Ivrit or Biblical Hebrew and I am no Bible Scholar, I simply spotted the variation in my three different Bibles and then found the reasons clearly expressed online HERE.


Whenever a Biblical text has multiple meanings I prick up my ears.

- I remember the “sight of sound” (Exodus 20:15) that we experienced at Sinai.

- I remember the Shin and Zayin engraved on my Shabbos candle-sticks.
They divide and separate flame while bearing one light.
One candle for Shamor, one for Zachor;

-I remember that “God has spoken once, twice have I heard” (Psalm 62:12)

-And above all, I remember “I will be what I will be”. (Exodus 3:14)

Whatever the academic reasons for the variations in the Hosea text, the Haftarah quote is rich in potential meanings. The ambiguity is a textual challenge but it is also a deliberate and beautiful product of its poetic and prophetic form.

In what way does this textual “Angel of Jacob” speak to us as Jewish Contemplatives?

The Jacob narrative in Bereishit is full of such deliberate ambiguity, particularly when the text is attempting to describe Divine action. Many times the revelation shimmers around the action without confirming its author. This is especially so in the  description of Jacob’s struggle with “a man” in Parashat Vayishlach (Gen 33:25)... We are never quite sure how revelation is taking place. Is it an encounter with God Himself, the angels He sends, or the humans and circumstances Jacob encounters? As contemplative Jews, we ask ourselves the same questions in our own prayer lives. Sometimes our periods of solitary and reflective prayer throw these questions up for us to consider. Sometimes those periods contain the moments when we are given answers.

Beit El is the “House of Prayer” which we enter in hitbodedut.

It is not just the place where we speak our thoughts and desires to HaShem.
It is also the place where we hope to hear the Voice of God responding to our prayers, and in this we may attempt to follow Jacob’s example.


In Part Two of Kuntres M’arat Ha-Lev (The first of the entries on this website/blog written in 2005) I wrote at length about hearing “the Voice” (the description is found at section "2c" HERE). It was a deliberately ambiguous passage as it touched lightly on areas of mystical experience which are best not described in detail, but experienced anew by each person. It is true that in a tiny number of instances I was writing about the Voice of God, heard with the ears of the mind or soul and not the body and always filtered and obscured by our personalities and powers of imagination. Such “auditory” spiritual experiences may happen once in a life-time if at all. They are most certainly a rarity.

Let’s take a look at Jacob’s own experience in this matter:

In Jacob’s “147” years (Gen 47:28) he had direct (recorded) experience of “hearing God’s Voice”- at Bethel (while re-affirming the Abrahamic covenant) at Gen 28; during the stay with Laban (requiring his return to Canaan)- at Gen 31; at Jabbok/Peniel (when wrestling and receiving a name change) – at Gen 32; on being sent back to Bethel (reiteration of the covenant) at Gen 35; at Beer-Sheba (en route to Egypt to meet Joseph) at Gen 46. That’s only five times in one hundred and forty-seven years. That seems about right to me, for a Patriarch. It should also help us to keep our mystical aspirations in realistically humble perspective.

But there are several times when Jacob “hears” God’s voice less “directly”: via angels (messengers) and during dreams. These less “exalted” and more indirect types of spiritual experience are also far more common in the lives of ordinary contemplatives. Though they seem to come in infrequent but intense bursts, we often have a very clear intuition that they are in the nature of personal revelations and epiphanies. A request made in prayer for illumination on a problem (sometimes practical, sometimes theological, sometimes career-based, sometimes ethical) is often followed by one or many of the following:

An impulse to open a particular book and finding a directly relevant passage;

A coincidental reading of an answering phrase in an unrelated book we are currently reading;

A passage in the Bible or Siddur which leaps out at us unexpectedly;

A meeting with a friend, or more often a stranger who says something directly pertinent to our question with no possible way of knowing it was on our mind;

A scene in a television programme hitting our nail on its head;

An apparently meaningless tune that enters our head and replays itself until we slowly remember the lyrics which, (Surprise! Surprise!) fit our problems’ solution exactly;

A telephone call or email from someone we had not heard from for months or years expressing related thoughts or initiating a coincidence which leads to an “answer”.

The list could go on and on. For me, these are clear examples of angels bearing messages from God for our own individual ears. In those months or years when we don’t seem to be meeting such angels we can feel quite desolate. We would be floating on air, or perhaps gasping for breath in the suffocation of immanence, if these events came too frequently or too intensely. Sometimes it is almost a relief when they stop visiting us. But when they happen, we really ought to be grateful and sit up and take notice. We may not be Jacob. But we are his descendents. They are gifts which are more common than many will admit.

Though it does not follow infallibly, I think it is also true to say that:

-the deeper one’s silent periods in daily living are;

-the more frequent or intense one’s specifically attentive periods in prayer are;

-and the less one is expecting a dramatic answer yet still persistently asking for help:

....the more likely it seems to be that these angels visit us.

Our task is to be ever on the lookout for such opportunities, and sometimes these “angels” are only “recognized” by us if we are prepared to wrestle with them.

But what of the many years that Jacob was neither talking to God “directly”, encountering clearly “angelic” messengers, or accessing the “world which is coming” in his sleep?

Jacob was a man who saw Providence at work because he had time to reflect upon it. His tale is also one of great human drama:- as he followed his mother’s dynastic schemes and plans; as he learnt a hard lesson about deceit when he himself was deceived by Laban; as he was torn apart by fear of his brother, as he struggled to keep his large and volatile family together, as he suffered the long years of the agony of Joseph’s disappearance. In all of this he was a man of contemplative bent. A shepherd, a tent-dweller, one who would have preferred to stay “at home”. Such a person would have been attentively listening for the “Voice of God” in the most apparently secular/mundane aspects of his life. Such a person would have heard the Voice of God everywhere and in everything….certainly from the time he had realised that “God was in this place” and “he knew it not” onwards.

For us it is also the same. As contemplatives, we are not always scaling stairways to heaven, but we are forever going up and coming down so that, bit by bit, we are removing the veils which hide our God in both the night of our private prayers and in the brash daylight of our ordinary lives. We may find an angelic light enmeshed in the apparently mundane, just as we might find the answers to our prayers surprisingly ordinary and down-to-earth.


Many commentators wrestle with the (literary) Angel of Peniel. Some say it was God’s Presence. Some say it was the angel of Esau (or even Esau himself). Some say it was an “ordinary” man sent as a messenger to try Jacob. Some say it was the fear inside Jacob emerging in a dream. It could be all, or many, of those simultaneously.

All of these are messengers of Ein Sof. We hear the Voice of God in the secular as well as the religious. In the speech of our family and friends. In the written word which we seek or find. In a talmud which is composed of the daily events in our lives. In a scripture which is formed by our unfolding life stories and choices.

God found Jacob in His house, and in that House He will speak with us.

Once we have encountered God, for however short a moment in time, we know what “home” really means.

Whether you are living “in a cave” as a full-time contemplative as I am able to at the moment—or if your life is largely active with moments of silent waiting on God squeezed in wherever you can – or if you are unable to pray and just wish you could. If you place yourself in God’s House……that is to say, if you make God your focal point above all else… I guarantee, you will meet his angels. More than that, He will let you “find Him and there He will speak with you”.



N R Davies
December 1 2011


(This commentary was written for the private Jewish Contemplatives Community website and was originally published there in 2008.)





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Kuntres Maarat Ha-Lev

Kuntres Maarat Ha-Lev was written by Nachman Davies in 2005 during his twelve year experiment in solitary contemplative living in a cavehouse in Granada, Spain. Much of it was concerned with promoting the kind of community outreach via the internet that has since emerged in abundance. This unusually long post is an attempt to re-state the core of that Kuntres Maarat Ha-Lev without  those elements that are now redundant or obsolete.  It is  an exceptionally long post for a blog— it is being made accessible here  as a point of reference online


It describes a very simple method of contemplative  receptive prayer and outlines the reasons  why the author believes such prayer to be  both timely and crucial.   It was written especially for intentionally dedicated Jewish Contemplativesmitkarevim (those who would “draw near” to G-d  in intimate service) but it speaks to all Jews who wish to meet the Divine in Contemplative prayer.

   

The graphic is a sketch from 1992 as part of a personal Shabbat bentsher.  It later became the cover for the original  “Kuntres Maarat Ha-Lev” in 2005.

(The graphic is a sketch from 1992 ... part of my personal Shabbat bentsher. It later became the cover for the original  “Kuntres Maarat Ha-Lev” in 2005.)

The Supernal Torah cries out:  “Happy is the man who listens to me, eagerly at my gates every day, waiting at the posts of my doors, For he who finds me finds life, and finds favour before G-d”    (Mishlei 8:34)

The ‘point’ of the Maarat Ha-Lev is at the threshold of the arch. It is a point of focus in the distance (the transcendent) and simultaneously it is a point of focus inside us (the immanent).  

-That point inside us is represented by the  star-light inside the Star of Dovid...

-The same point appears as the Larger Light present  at the  heart of the  graphic. 

-Whether it is behind or infront of the arch is ambiguous: it represents the threshold of the expanded consciousness which is everywhere…

-The two angelic Elyonim are guardians, witnesses,silent worshipers.
-They are symbols of the event taking place, marking the point of intersection.
-They are the keruvim of the ark and the lights of Shabbat.
Lights who are also called Shamor and Zachor, Yachin and Boaz.

 oo0oo

 

The Cave of the Heart (Maarat Ha-Lev) is the ‘place’ or ‘state of meeting’ in which the contemplative Jew encounters the Divine.  Our sages tell us that 

“G-d is the place (Makom) of the world  but the  world is not His place.  

Bereshit Rabbah 68:10 

Every created thing is  in  Him, and  yet His Essential Being could not possibly be contained by creation.  He cannot be grasped, delineated, or limited and yet He is in every thing and sustains  all created life  moment by moment.  Ein od milivado—There is nothing but G-d, He is everywhere.

The Cave of the Heart is a ‘place’ which is  beyond time  and space yet we can feel momentarily drawn into it when  we experience  a wonder of Nature, or when we are drawn into the gaze of a tzaddik.  When  we see the light of heaven in the eyes, or the face, or the actions of a righteous person—we are standing at the mouth of that cave looking in. 

When  we attempt to meet G-d in private—on a one-to-one basis, so to speak— we are being drawn into that cave. When we enter it in the contemplative prayer of attentiveness, we can become vehicles for the Presence  of G-d.   The Shechinah  then prays through us and thereby, each of us can attain a close intimacy with the Divine; with the rest of Knesset Yisrael (the Community of Israel); and with  Kol ha-Olam (all creation).

-Why do I call it a cave of the Heart?

The heart of something  is its essential core, its deepest generative impulse, the source of its vitality.  It is the spiritual faculty—spiritual organ as it were—of intimate knowledge and intuition.   Its manner of  understanding is both super-natural and supra-rational yet it is not divorced from either intellect or common sense.

It is a spiritual cave in the heart of each individual soul, and simultaneously in the Heart of our G-d.

-Why do I call it a Cave?

A cave is a place of shelter and security. It is also a home-base.  It is a place of quiet and intimate retreat. It has two highly significant elements spiritually: the interior of the Cave which is enclosed and introverted, and the threshold which opens out onto another world.

The Cave of which I speak is to be found in our own deepest soul-chamber within the Heart of our G-d.

For this  reason it is also possible to experience  it, simultaneously, in its unlimited and polarised forms: We can find a second threshold to an interior world inside G-d from the  deepest  part of the interior of the cave  itself  and, with our backs turned (as it were) to the cave’s opening  and our senses totally in the dark, find  ourselves (somehow) lifted into His World.

The Cave of the Heart thus has a threshold which stands between contemplation and the created and temporal world, and another hidden threshold (between the olam hazeh  and the olam haba)  which is where the individual soul can ‘know’ G-d intimately.  The more we allow our ego to dissolve into the Divine, the more these two states/thresholds blur into one.

The Cave of the Heart is the place in which we stand during the Amidah when  we daven formally; the  state into which  we enter when  we are sitting in  silent focussed hitbonenut (meditation); and it is the secret place in our minds  when we are walking in the midst of crowds or going about automatic tasks with our minds on G-d.

It is the state of consciousness in which Eliyahu haNavi heard the ‘still small voice’—with his senses shielded by his mantle and standing on the threshold between the worlds. *1  Paradoxically it is often only when  we retire deep into the Divine shelter in solitary prayer that we can view things as they really are.

It is  the state of awareness which strips away the veil that hides other worlds from our everyday vision. It is the state of  mochin d’gadlut (expanded consciousness) in which we can hear the hidden melody of a true reality that suddenly emerges from within the mundane—momentarily  but long enough for us to have been given  the profound, if obscure, certainty that what we have  seen or heard  is not illusion but truth.   It is  a reflection of the Holy of Holies in the Heavenly Jerusalem, and an archetypal descendent of the Tent of Meeting.  It may even be the generator of the Third Temple.

This all sounds very grand.

It is.

And what is more: the miracle of the Cave  of the Heart is that it is open-all-hours; it is open to everyone and  not  just to an elite few—and it  is  much more easily encountered than one might think.


And these words which I command you today
 shall be upon your heart.

Devarim 6:6

oo0oo

                                                                                      

 The ‘World which is to come’ is not in the future. It is the moment which is now. 

The day on which ‘G-d is one and His Name shall be one’ is here right now— if we would only listen.

How can anyone listen to G-d personally?

How can anyone meet Him in prayer?

Nobody can see Him and live.

Any perception we may have of Him comes heavily screened.

In Jewish texts, the Name of G-d—the Shem Havayah— is composed of the four letters Y-H and V-H. This name is never pronounced but is read as ‘Ado-nai’ (Lord). It was pronounced the way it is written but  once a year by the High Priest in the Temple of Jerusalem at the most solemn moment of the liturgy on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. The fact that it is a mysterious and ‘unpronouncable’ Name emphasises our acceptance  that we can never comprehend the Divine Essence.

However much we might try to philosophise, there is always a feeling of utter helplessness in delineating or accurately expressing any concept of G-d’s nature.

The unfolding revelation of the Name from the midst of the burning bush (Shemot: 2); at the Giving  of the Torah on Sinai (Shemot: 20); and the inner vision of HaShem’s glory from the cleft in the rock (Shemot:33)  are personal as well as ancestral or community revelations of the Divine –and they are given to us as models of our relationship with G-d in prayer.  We are invited to remember that we are standing before G-d and also simultaneously that we are in Him. He is the Existence which fills all creation. At Sinai we are commanded to hear His Voice daily and  at every moment. In the Cleft of the Rock we are told  of His attributes so that we may emulate them, but we are also being shown a reflection of His perpetually creative activity in this world.   The Attributes  are there for us to feel  with our intuitive hearts as much as to philosophise about, despite the cloud of unknowing thrown about any attempt to grasp His Name cognitively. They are a revelation but their enigmatic and elusive form is their beauty.

Our kabbalistic tradition has formulated many beautiful and complex meditations and kavanot composed around the meaning of the Shem Havayah and around the permutations of this and other ‘Names’ of G-d.   I have been dazzled and gripped by lines extracted from the Zohar but almost all  the classical forms, analyses, and systems of kabbalistic meditation are just too complex and intellectual for me. They may well be so for you too.

If you are reading this book hoping for some insight into such meditational techniques you will be disappointed—what I am sharing in this book is extremely simple.

There is presumption here.

I’m convinced that there is a simple way for those needing a kind of spiritual minimalism.  It is a path I have been walking for many decades and, having given it a good try and found it to be meaningful, I simply want to share it. I have the trepidation of a Bar-Mitzvah boy in making it public here but my instinct tells me there are others out there who may actually need to read these words. It is a method for those who are fired by what can only be described as an ache to be connected to G-d and to be of use to Him, but whose psychological or intellectual inadequacies make the ascent of Mount Carmel or Mount Horeb necessary by a less travelled side-path.  It is a simple path, but in no sense is it an easy short cut—and travelling on it can often be boringly uneventful:

The kabbalists refer to G-d as ‘Ein Sof’—This term is sometimes translated as ‘the Infinite’ or ‘The Endless’ and it also indicates that the Essence of the Divine is beyond description. Ultimately we can never understand or grasp even this concept, let alone the Being it attempts to describe—but contemplative prayer is a way of developing our awareness of being in It, part of  It, and crucially with respect to our role in creation— a receptacle and channel of It.

Individually.

This awareness can arise in highly charged moments, come and gone as swiftly as the brief appearance of light on a cloud-darkened sea. It can also grow imperceptibly at an agonizingly slow and apparently uneventful pace, to emerge like a crystal, revealing something which was actually there all along. Like the breath of a breeze it may come as a once in a lifetime momentary shift in perspective after which our memory of it is our only manna. Or it may not be ‘felt’ at all and only be sensed in its results.

Anyone who approaches G-d in contemplation becomes painfully aware of the dynamic tension caused by His distance while simultaneously feeling His immanent personal action ever more deeply in the heart. The unpronouncable  Shem Havayah is, as it were, the embodiment of this dynamic tension—not on parchment, not in a devotional shiviti graphic, but in a part of our soul which is made pregnant by contemplative awareness.  As indicated in the Aleinu *2, it is a  Name that  we are required to ‘make One’.  

There is a sense in which we can enter into this state of contemplative awareness  every time  we pray with kavanah (intentional focus) and there is  a sense in which we need to enter into solitary retreat  if we are to feel its true depth and if we are to listen with the profound attentiveness asked of us in the Sh’ma.*3  In the paragraphs that follow I will suggest a way to do this.

The term Olam/Alam comes from a root implying concealment and hiddeness.  It also signifies ‘the World’, ‘all Creation’, ‘Eternity’, and ‘Time’.

G-d is often referred to as Ribono shel Olam, as the Master of ‘Olam’, with all the shades of meaning I have  just described.

G-d is the Master of All Time.

Since early childhood  I have never been quite convinced that time was anything but an illusion. As I age, the relativity and flexibility of time and space seems to have become more fact than theory.   I am not sure if this is because I have accumulated experience of  the ‘hidden’ supernatural world over the years, or whether it is simply because I am nearer to death, a state in which personal time and space becomes irrelevant.

When one undertakes a period of extended solitary retreat in silence, it is not long  before time starts bending, slowing down, and sometimes, to all intents and purposes: stopping.  In a contemplative retreat , the moment which is the present becomes,as it were, slower while the progress of the minutes in an hour, the hours in a day, and of the days in a week, seem to accelerate.

Being able to wallow in this kind of time transcendence is a precious luxury denied to all save the solitary contemplative. Most readers will have babies to feed, businesses to maintain, agendas to prepare and deadlines to meet.


But I have an unproven theory (unproven save in my personal experience) that once you have experienced even a short moment of such time-transcendence—others follow. Just one really deep period of such an experience can somehow be recalled in the midst of everyday bustle, though it might need a periodic topping-up. It can not only be recalled, it can sometimes break in to our consciousness unannounced. Revelation often comes  as an unexpected surprise when G-d decends upon us without an appointment to catch us off-guard, in what often seems to  be an act undertaken with a sort of  Divine sense of humour. 

This is  one of the reasons I claim that encountering the Cave of the Heart is easier than  one might have  expected.

And it is  not necessarily the exclusive experience of those who enjoy periods of extended retreat. 

These moments of epiphany might come out of the blue, but they can be  so momentous that they are generators of a relationship that lasts a lifetime, and beyond.  They are to a person’s life as Shabbat is to the other days in a week—They are a forestaste of the Olam Haba (the beyond life which is ever present  though concealed). They are the appointed times in our spiritual life that the world of  G-d’s  immanence can somehow receive some element of His transcendence.

I should mention here that I have written of ‘moments’. The reader should understand that such moments may last a second, minutes, and even hours when reckoned in chronological time. This will have implications later in the chapter when you see that the method of prayer which I am about to outline takes place at a still-point in time which is immeasurable.


The Invitation

It begins as a gentle but insistent sense that He is giving us an invitation to meet Him.

So simple, and yet so easily ignored or discounted as being merely our imagination— hence His insistence. 

It is not a special gift for the chosen—it is an invitation for everyone—It just embarrasses us to admit  that we sense it. Possibly out of personal reticence, or maybe and quite justifiably, we are simply rather afraid of it and its implications.

We can find many excuses to ignore the invitation, or postpone its acceptance, or face its momentous consequences—

It is however, an invitation to share in the kind of listening  and attentiveness which is the most essential part of the tikkun process, the process of personal and universal redemption that all Israel is commanded to proclaim each day when we recite the  Sh’ma.  The first verse of the Sh’ma is perhaps our most fundamental*4  and cherished commandment, and it is a command that we should listen,   be attentive, and understand:

 

LISTEN ISRAEL,      Y-H&V-H   IS OUR G-D,     Y-H&V-H  IS ONE

 

In the congregational recitation of the Sh’ma, focus on performing this type of hearing/listening can be rather difficult but by no means impossible. From within the Cave of the Heart in individual prayer it can become a contemplative event in itself. There it becomes more of an action or a process than a text to be recited.

Responding to the invitation to “know before Whom we stand” *5 and to listen to what He might have to say can best be done in solitude. It feels very personal, and it is—even though the One inviting is not a person.

All very paradoxical—but less so if you let Him take the lead.

To do this, one has to clear  a space and make oneself  ready to be receptive: One can do this best in solitude of one  form or another. Solitary contemplative and meditative prayer is  well documented in the Hebrew Bible, and has been practised in all stages of Jewish history.  Perhaps the most typically Jewish use of solitude as a religious discipline is when  it is used in regular periods of secluded meditation whose duration is measured in just hours, or even minutes:

R' Avraham Abulafia (1240-1291) writes:

Choose a special place for yourself where your voice will not be heard. Meditate alone with no-one else present. If you engage in this by day do so in a darkened room. It is best if you do this at night. *6

The same practice is recommended by R' Chayim Vital (1542-1620):

You should be in a room by yourself ... It should be a place where you will not be distracted by the sound of human voices or the chirping of birds. The best time to do this is shortly after midnight. *7

The practice of such solitary prayer is especially dear to the followers of Rebbe Nachman of Breslov (1772-1810) who used the word hitbodedut to denote a form of informal prayer in solitude to be practiced on a daily basis by Jews of every type and spiritual capability. Here are two short examples of his advice on this:

It is also necessary that you should meditate in an isolated place. It should be outside the city, or on a lonely street, or some other place where other people are not found ... You must therefore be alone, at night, on an isolated path where people are not usually found. Go there and meditate…*8

Hitbodedut meditation is the best and the highest level of worship. Set aside an hour or more each day to meditate, in the fields or in a room, pouring out your thoughts to G-d ... Every person can express his own thoughts, each according to his own level. You should be very careful with this practice, accustoming yourself to do it at a set time each day.*9

   It should  be apparent to any modern day student  of Jewish mysticism or meditation that the hitbodedut of  the  Breslov mesorah is quite  specific in both character and form.  To a great extent it is the  Breslover definition of the  term that represents its most commonly accepted meaning  in our era.

 The Breslover form of hitbodedut seems to me to be focussed on the musar of self improvement and  the outpouring of one's private emotional and spiritual needs and  worries. It takes the  form of  a personal and solitary period of  prayer whose features are  release,examination, repentance,petition, and passionate reliance on Providence.   It is  clearly an act founded on the desire for  an intimate  connection with the  Divine, but its focus is usually  upon acts of joyous praise or upon the  sharing and elevation of  the troubled thoughts and difficult experiences  of the one praying.  As such, it is more a matter of informal and spontaneous petition and expression than  a form of contemplative  prayer, and it is very often  highly vocal.  

    The kind of contemplative prayer that I am advocating in this book is a much more receptive activity and comes somewhere between the discursive hitbodedut of the  Breslover and the hitbonenut (silent meditation)  of one seeking some  form of enlightenment, some  form of Divine input, some  form of direct inspiration.  Consequently the  focus is not on the outpouring of  one's soul  before G-d, but on developing a kind of attentiveness of the mind that (as it were) opens a window or door in the soul for  the  Divine Breath to enter.  This can  involve preliminary  and preparatory verbal prayer, vocalised or silent, and it may involve  music and  dance or meditation on a text or a particular thought.   But ultimately it is a case of the  soul making itself attentively available, in  patient,silent, and solitary contemplation.    It is  a form of  quietening the soul in hopeful expectation that some  form of Divine influx and intimate activity might take place.  Often it will seem that this has not occurred (hence the need for patience and humility) but if G-d wills, it can lead to an awareness that a  direct input  has occurred and may even lead to  an experience that resembles a  two-way conversation.

  This  kind of hitbodedut/hisbonenut  is a way of inviting G-d to make use of us as a channel of His Presence.   It is not about us and our individual needs or condition.   It is  an attempt to invite G-d to 'speak'  to us or to show us something we need to see.  To reveal to each individual soul the way in which it can best be a channel to fulfil the needs of the  Shekinah.

     The esoteric systems and complex  meditation practices of the kabbalists, the deeply intellectual forms of hitbonenut proposed by Chabad, and the frequently cathartic expressions of  hitbodedut practiced by Breslover hasidim are beyond the scope of this little book.   There  are  several reasons for this. As I have indicated, I am neither a scholar nor a rabbi. I am  not qualified or experienced enough  to make deep analytical comment on these jewels in Judaism’s contemplative crown.  You can find shelves full of books which deal with these subjects by many gifted authors without too much effort. 

   But the main reason you will not find them discussed here is because I want  to propose a simple method for those  who simply want to get straight to the heart of the matter like  a little child running into the arms of a parent.   

   Nevertheless: what I am suggesting is that  when  we get there, we don’t just cry Tateh! Tateh!—but that we listen with all our strength.   

This is an aim which is close to the frame of mind of anyone who would draw near to G-d hoping to receive a spirit of ruach hakodesh that approaches prophecy.  I believe this to be the core tachlit of prayer in  the Cave of the Heart. 

In the latter days,

you will return to  HaShem your G-d

and listen to His voice.

Devarim 4:30 

                                      

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    In our day, we are witnessing an ever increasing  and often hyperactive pace of life that has  frequently become coupled with a decreasing attention span.  Pauses for thought are snatched rather than savoured and we seem to collect and share trivia more than we value focus and depth in our interior reflections.  Online  and offline, we are a generation that is  hungry for spiritual satisfactions as much as for spiritual duties, and it is  possible to Zoom ourselves into an endless peripheral playing around with mystical studies whilst overlooking (and avoiding) authentic solitary communion with our G-d.

 Our unquenchable thirst for stimulation and gratification online can often become addictive, and we may mistake the accumulation of religious, intellectual, or  liturgical bricabrac for knowledge—when  our Sages insist that  the  only true knowledge  is that we know nothing. In the forest of distraction whose paths frequently lead nowhere, we are in danger of turning something  that is pure and simple into something  that is more complex than it need be. 

And yet, there are those among us who sense a force that pulls us away from such noise and distraction and whom search for  a way to turn their  somewhat introverted natures or their spirituality into a practical form of service that frees one from egocentricity.  

Such people may be  a minority but they have  always been active on the fringes of  Judaism and their number has been growing through our contemporary interest in spirituality, mindfulness, and  meditaional practice. They are often Hidden Contemplatives.   They are the mitkarevim (those who would draw near to G-d). 

Within the Jewish Community there are people who know from the start that they are called to live an intimate life  of prayer. Such people will sometimes be  pursuing this vocation in varying degrees of isolation, and  sometimes they will be  following personal;ised versions of  the ‘Intimate Path’  of  R' Avraham ben HaRambam) in the midst of busy social, cultural, or educational, careers.  For others, their potential as contemplatives emerges gradually. It is often more fragile, and it can be encouraged enthusiastically or squashed by negative criticism.

So, who are these potential contemplatives in our midst and how can their apparent loneliness be transformed into a happy and fruitful solitude?

I’ll start my answer to these questions by asking you to  consider this list for a moment: 

• Some isolated Jews may have found themselves made redundant or incapacitated through illness or other circumstances.

• Some of them will have been disabled all their lives and thus prevented from engaging in many forms of social activity or communication.

• Some people may be living and working in unavoidable isolation from Jewish community centres or even in situations of restriction or oppression.

• Some may have lost a life-partner, who in many cases was the only practically functioning community they had.

• Some may be people for whom family life has not been possible—sometimes they are people whose attempts at partnership formation have simply not worked out, or they may have emotional or other issues that prevent them from marrying and creating a family.

• Some people may be both single and desperately lonely, and thus feel excluded/exclude themselves from the world of ‘family life’. Their isolation can be physical or internal or both.

• Some may simply be people in isolation who for one reason or another have found themselves with more time on their hands and fewer opportunities for a social expression of their religious feelings and aspirations than they had expected.  Within this group there will be Jews who are in prison, or who are medically quarantined or terminally ill.

• Some isolated Jews may be retired people, with or without dispersed families, who have found themselves unexpectedly confronted with questions which they had been cushioned from in the bustle of their previous working lives.   In our day, as we witness the expansion of artifical intelligence and robotics, this  group is almost certain to swell in number dramatically.

  And—I have to add—Some may feel called to solitary life both naturally and supernaturally, and they may well have no idea how to go about it. As Jews, they will very possibly feel marginalised and embarrassed.  

(That list was written in 2005, but this edition of Kuntres Maarat Ha Lev is released in 2021, at a time  when the  world has been plunged into the quarantines and lockdowns of Coronavirus.  That tragedy has caused an agonising number of deaths and illness all over the  world, but it  also forced us into solitude and isolation and that spin-off consequence of our tragedy was/is not, I believe, an accident.  It was/is also an opportunity for almost global hitbonenut and for a re-examination of the  halacha of communal worship in the Jewish world.)

oo0o  

If you go back through that list of life situations you will see that the people I have described are by no means an insignificant minority. They are diverse, hidden, dispersed, and very probably in need of spiritual support.

Judaism  is  not  a ‘one size fits all’ religion and a certain distribution of labour  keeps it strong and healthy.   We wave the arba minim at the festival of Sukkot: fruit and bound-together plants which represent the variation and diversity which individual Jews bring to the community of Israel as a whole. Some commentators view the arba minim as a symbol of a diversity in which the strong support the weak. Others, myself included, view it as a non-judgemental and positive statement about diversity being celebrated for its particular beauty per se. It was a diversity accepted and expressed by the arrangement that was made between Yisachar and Zebulun without any taint of elitism or conflict of interest, for in Bereshit Raba, 99:9 we read that  the tribe of Zebulun financed the Torah study of the tribe of Yisachar as a  way of sharing  in the mitzvah.)

There are those who are forced to snatch whatever time they can away from family duties or business responsibilities in order to daven, and  for whom extended periods of solitude are virtually impossible. There are those with more free time on their hands. Each has their place in the execution of the shared vocational task of Knesset Yisrael.  

Might it not be possible to accept that some people have what might be termed a natural gift or predisposition for the contemplative life which could be acknowledged, and maybe developed, for the good of the whole? And here, I mean the good of kol ha-Olam as much as for kol-Yisrael: for the community of all Creation and not just the Jewish community. 

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We hear the Voice of Sinai as Knesset Yisrael  in our individual hearts. The covenantal relationship between Knesset Yisrael and G-d is manifested in the inner and outer life of each individual Jew. This is what makes Judaism a religion and not a club, not just a grouping of people with a common nationality or shared ideals.   It is that individual communication with G-d which paradoxically produces the ‘We’ of all Jewish prayer— and all Jewish activity— and it is a paradox which is at the heart of specifically Jewish mysticism.

If one accepts that there is a Knesset Yisrael, an eternal Community of Israel which is not bound by the limitations of time, space, or number—and if one accepts that there is a Universal ‘Soul of Humanity’ of which we are the re-uniting fragments—it should be a small matter to see that neither can be contained by synagogues, by movements, or by sectarian units. The best they can do is to facilitate points of focus for some of the fragments. The only real point of focus is the spiritual one they hope to represent. The worst they can do is to allow themselves to think that they embody that Point of Focus exclusively, making themselves feel stronger by denigrating  those whose perspective  doesn’t match their own. 

 

The Task of the Contemplative Jew

The thought is often expressed that we are G-d’s only hands in the world.

There is a sense in which G-d is more present in ‘our’ world when we make Him so.  Following the image through— might the spiritual activity of the Mitkarevim be an expression of His Mind or Heart in the world?   Rebbe Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev assures that the contribution of contemplatives is absolutely indispensable:

When man nullifies himself completely and attaches his thoughts to Nothingness, then  a new sustenance flows into all the universes.  This is  a  sustenance  that did not exist previously. *10  

A person living a contemplative lifestyle (whether by choice or circumstance) can transform isolation into living community action by consciously turning their focus in prayer to the healing or tikkun process. By making this intentional transformation, such a  person brings a  new sustenance into all the universes. If such a person does not intend to effect this transformation, especially when it may well be  their personal vocation to bring it about —then the tikkun, willed by G-d, will either not happen, or be  delayed.

This process is active in the individual’s never-ending journey in and to G-d—and it is  simultaneously active  in the process of the evolution of all Creation. From the position of the former we hope to influence the latter.

 In my personal prayers, I find it easier to do this on an individual level by joining my thoughts to those of friends, especially when they are in periods of distress. Attempting to give such spiritual support on a wider scale, perhaps even a global scale might have highly significant consequences, and it may be something that you alone can do in G-d’s Name. 

Yes—You alone.

Maybe you need to see these words to realise that.

   The method of contemplative prayer I am  recommending in this  kuntres is very simple.  All we need to do is sit down in solitude and  silence, put ourselves in G-d’s Presence, and attempt to relate to Him in some  focussed way.  It may involve the words of a set prayer  or not.  It may involve reflection on a text or a concept—or not.  It may involve a search for meaning in a particular life-situation—or not.

   But whatever form that hitbonenut/hitbodedut might take there are two things that  make the method I am  promoting special.  Firstly: It is not about us, but about Him.  It is an attempt to be present to G-d  and in G-d for its own sake.  Secondly: It is an attempt to be so intentionally and profoundly attentive that our contemplation becomes an opportunity to listen for— and maybe even hear— the Divine Voice itself.

   It requires that the contemplative  simply makes time and  space for G-d to get a  word in edgeways. A set time  of solitary intimacy.  A short period, or a long period of silent availability to G-d in the Prayer of Nearness. The attentive gaze of one in love with the Divine.   In order to assist those  unused to this kind of contemplative practice, and for those  who have been baffled or confused by complex meditation methods—here is an example format I would  like to propose as a guide to get one  started.   It is a form of contemplative prayer that I have used daily in some  years and ocassionally in other years.  These days  it’s a format I rarely use at all, but I am recommending it strongly, and will explain why as this kuntres unfolds. 

Here it is:



That’s it.

Yes….

That’s all of it.


The listening/attentive/receptive form of meditation I am suggesting here might be practiced at the conclusion of a regular meditation period; within the famework of a more verbal ‘Breslover-form’ of hitbodedut; or as a feature of ones private recitation of the Amidah.

If you were expecting this book to offer you a contemplative method replete with manipulations of Hebrew letters and numbers, or guided meditations, or ascetic practices you will be very disappointed by that. If you are a scholar of Jewish mysticism you might be irritated by my impertinence. If you are somebody who feels relief or excitement (and perhaps a sense of recognition) on reading those last few statements but need a little bit more help to make those words make sense: then read on.

There are countless methods of contemplative prayer which take the practitioner through various stages of meditation by suggesting things that one might do—often in a progressive and hierarchically order or scheme. The specific exercise I am describing and promoting here is a supplement to such activities.

It is not being promoted here as the only or somehow superior meditational method to be practiced by a contemplative –though for some people it may prove to be their principal form of contemplative activity. Rather, it is presented as an activity that all Jews should practice (in some form or other) if they want to meet G-d and reach their full potential in prayer. As a main-course contemplative activity, it is a path of intimacy that leads to focussed service, but it may also prove to be a sort of sourdough to kick-start a person’s introduction to contemplative practice.

oo0oo

There is nothing new in the three-point method I have just outlined. The method is ancient. It consists of nothing more than periods of attentiveness and receptivity in prayer, and such periods—or something very like them—must have been part of the core curriculum of the Schools of the Prophets of Biblical Judaism. Prophecy in Biblical times was something that sometimes required training and those students of the Prophets per se were educated in the equivalent of residential yeshivos. They were the bnei ha-nevi’im –sons of the prophets (Amos 7:14), and the Talmud numbers them in excess of a million[11]. References to the prophetic schools may be found in the time of Shmuel Ha Navi[12] (I Shmuel:19) and most especially, under the tutelage of Eliyahu and Elisha. ( I Melachim 19:18 and II Melachim 4:38–41)

Furthermore, I believe that there is an echo of the practice of such a receptive, focussed, and attentive form of contemplation in the Talmud itself. In Berachot 32b we are told that the Sages of old spent an hour before and after reciting the formal tefilla in some form of meditation— and the word used for their activity is 'waiting'. It is apparent (from Berachot 32b:24 ) that this waiting was neither inactivity nor study, and it is significant that they were said to 'wait' both before and after reciting formal prayers. The term must therefore refer to some form of private contemplation made in preparation for worship, or in reflection on it after its formal (and usually communal) enactment. The sort of attentive contemplation I am recommending is certainly a form of expectant and reflective 'waiting'.

It also resembles the kind of prayer that must have been made by those standing at the entrance of their tents while Moshe Rabeinu entered the (second) Tent of meeting in Shemot 33:7-10*11 

The simple contemplative practice I am promoting may however be ‘new’ for many Jews who will not have considered that prayer could (or should) include a time for G-d’s response. Jews are very familiar with the idea that listening to G-d takes place whenever the Torah scrolls are read, studied, or discussed— but that same Torah is to be found in the heart of each individual Jew. That Torah of the Heart is rarely accessed, but it really ought to be—for how else can we begin to hear the Voice which goes out daily from Sinai?

oo0oo

What I have suggested is extremely simple: During private prayer, ask G-d to speak to you and then wait in humble silence to let Him respond. It is possible that you may only be able to hold your attention on listening out for Him to ‘speak’  for  a minute or so before you lose concentration. But it is also possible (sometimes after years of making this effort) that you may find yourself  standing there waiting for many minutes— or even hours— and cannot account  for the time passing.  But believe me, the Voice of Sinai is calling—if only we would listen. Our effort to do so may often seem to fail but we are commanded in the Sh’ma we recite daily to at least try.  And try again.

In Pirkei Avot 6:2  we read  that  a voice goes out from Sinai everyday,  admonishing the Jewish people to return to Torah. In the  Zohar  we read:

The acts of G-d are eternal and continue for ever.  Every day the  one  who is  worthy receives the Torah standing at Sinai. He hears the Torah from the mouth of the Lord as Israel did….Every Jew is  able to attain that level, the level of standing at Sinai*12

And the midrash in Shemot Rabbah 5:9 confirms this by pointing out that all members of the Community of Israel heard the Voice of Sinai “according to each  individual’s capabilities and strengths”.   This kind of inspired  listening is potentially attainable every day.

 

THE VOICE

I believe that we are all capable of hearing G-d’s voice. Not in the way Moshe Rabeinu did, for sure, but in the way that all Israel did at the foot of Sinai. I mean that literally.    

It comes to us, in its purest form, as a voice during contemplative prayer itself or out of the blue when  least expected.   We hear it in our hearts and not through our ears. It is not our own voice (though part of it is). It seems to have a tone all of its own and does not speak often—There may be years between perceived occurrences.

The Voice seems to respond to questions, and its answers are often unexpectedly mundane, brief and brutally to the point, or just plain odd. In the latter case,we may have a crossed-wire in our imagination that has simply short-circuited the brain’s ability to dicipher input.  The  meaning or significance of apparently unintelligible answers that we have ‘heard’ can often emerge long after the event—maybe in another prayer session or when something happens in our lives to explain it. When  one is dealing with a 'world' that is free of time and space, such temporal re-organisation of past present  and future experience  is  par for the course.

The Voice sometimes answers us before the first word of such a question has even been expressed. Sometimes we have just begun to frame  a question and we hear the answer rocketted out at us.

Sometimes ‘answers’ are delayed to give us  an opportunity to re-think or re-phrase any request or petition that we might  have  made. This often happenens when we realise that the question we thought we needed to ask had been masking a different question that we were originally afraid to ask.

Sometimes we are given an ‘answer’ which seems to bear no relation to any question we may have asked, in such cases it is what we really needed to hear.

Often, we are the ones being asked a question.

Frequently, we are left to our own devices to find our own answers.  Once we have struggled and found  our own answers or made our own decision we then hear or sense  a ‘Voice of Approval’ which comes as an unexpected blessing  on what we have  ourselves obtained.

This confirming  approval can come in the form  of signs or words or events immediately following our own decision making, either from the actions  of the people we meet, in a passage in a book we pick up, or an email we receive, or through something we chance upon in a moment of déjà vu.  Such  approval really feels like it has come from a parent who congratulates a child on developing its independence, and when it happens it comes with a unique scent of authenticity that tells us that it is  not  a mere illusion.

The Voice can be commanding, but it never makes our decisions for us. Sometimes we may even  be invited to challenge its demands.  It seems to enjoy the tussle of  a good fight.

The Voice may be heard synesthesically. It may be in the form of verbal communication, it may present a visual image, it may cause a movement in our body, or it may not be sensed at all save by the heart— by a spiritual, intuitive faculty which is neither intellectual, emotional, nor purely imaginative. On the many occasions when absolutely nothing seems to have happened and no answers given, this part of our consciousness often seems to be aware that something has been done to us even though it is not necessary for us to know what or why.

There is some similarity between the type of awareness I have just described and the dream state and, perhaps not surprisingly, the Voice sometimes speaks in dreams themselves.[See Berachot 9 and Derech HaShem 3:1,6]  Some deliberately seek information in dreams through she’elas chalom—dream questions (Chayim Vital and Ibn Ezra for example), and many say that a tzaddik/rebbe who is  apparently dozing at a tish is not dozing but ‘visiting the academy on high’.

 In such ‘special’ dreams (special because we recognize they are in a class of their own, not that we are) it has the same synesthesic quality— The dreamer perceives a dream-message which appears before the ‘eyes’ of the mind  as a kind of written banner whose word or words are simultaneously recited by a voice heard by the mind’s ‘ears’.

Many times such dream-messages are delivered in a way that allows for multiple interpretations.  This can present us with a knotty paradox to unpack, or with a conflicting set of instructions for action— thus confirming  the adage that the significance  of a dream is in the control of the dreamer. This is  a core concept in Jungian theories of dream interpretation, but it predated Jung's reveries and  has a considerable following amongst  classical Jewish thinkers.  In Berachot 55b  we read “all dreams follow the mouth of the interpreter,” and in Berachot 57a we are given a detailed description of the meaning of various dream omens  and ‘encounters’ with Biblical personages or with Scriptural passages themselves; and in Moshe Chayim Luzatto’s Derech HaShem 3:1:6 we read of the interrelation of the individual soul’s  imaginative faculty and the (indirect) Divine inspiration couched in dream encounters:

It emerges that dreams  in general are images that are formed by the imagination, either on its own—or as a result of what the soul arouses within [the imagination] in accordance with what the soul perceives in the spiritual realms.  [30]

Sometimes, in the midst of such dream-visions, we wake suddenly with a flash of intuitive recognition or have it on our lips as we arise in the first waking moments of the morning so that we should not forget (or try to minimalise) the importance of what we have been told.[31] I think that sometimes such special dreams act as a channel of information because we were somehow not sufficiently receptive to hear such  a ‘message’ in a recent prayer session.

The Voice sometimes seems to make use of synchronous events—inexplicable chains of coincidences which seem to come in proximate bursts (often in threes for some  reason)  to ensure that we get the intended message.

These answering events often  resemble those occasions when we sense that something is wrong with someone we are close to in thought but miles away from in space—only to find that a split second later, a phone call confirms our apprehension. They resemble  those moments when we think of someone, only to have them turn up out of the blue at the door, in our path, or in our email in-boxes.    Often they come as a sort of underlining of something we have just experienced in contemplative prayer. Sometimes we may have ‘heard’ something  in prayer only to find someone saying almost exactly the same thing to us in a conversation, or in a phrase we read—often within seconds or minutes of  the original prayer experience.

Their rapidly consecutive appearance convinces me that, as the Baal Shem Tov said: “there are no accidents” wherever this little miracle occurs. *13

My use of the terms Voice, hear, see etc. can be taken (almost) literally or metaphorically. They are used in an attempt to describe an experience which will differ from person to person, and which takes many different forms in the various periods of an individual’s life. The common denominator is that they describe a process of a kind of spiritual  intuition (and maybe of inspiration or revelation) which operates on a level beyond the superficial, emotional or intellectual. However it is perceived, it is a process which produces insight, learning experiences, and attentiveness to G-d in our deepest self and in the world about us.

I believe that the Voice I have described can be G-d’s Voice and ours simultaneously. The extent to which it is His Voice, I cannot say.

If you are brave enough, ask it!

How much of it is our own voice can often (but suprisingly, not always) depend on the level to which we have removed our self-centredness,our insatiable desire for material and spiritual things we don’t really need, our prejudices, and our totems—or had them removed for us. That is an ongoing process and as it is a work in progress we may mis-hear the Voice by hearing only the frequencies we want to hear, or simply by filtering it in inaccurate language.

But if our intention is truly to listen to G-d alone with the motivation of service overiding all others, then our misinterpretations are shortlived. Other presentations of the same ‘word’ are made till we get the message. This way we get as near to understanding it as we can. 

ooOoo  

Certain things in those last few paragraphs will not make a lot of sense to some readers, but my hope is that they will strike  a chord in the hearts  of those readers who are intended to see these words—possibly as confirmation of their own intuitions—and that for such readers it will give both peace and encouragement.

 Secular psychologists reading these paragraphs may also be  having a field-day examining the mental processes described in those last few paragraphs from a purely natural view-point —superimposing whatever diagnostic/therapeutic model they subscribe to in analysing them.

I am not at all embarrassed by writing about the experiences of those who ‘hear voices’ because I actually expect G-d to operate using natural human processes when communicating with humans. There is  a world of difference between psychic sensitivity and psychopathy, and reticence about the former is out of place  here,in a document which is being written to encourage others to come out of the contemplative closet.  On the one hand  it is  right that individuals should only discuss their spiritual experiences with their mashpia (mentor), but on the other hand: in our era, people who hold religious beliefs are often ridiculed and even despised and are thus more fearful of exposing their spirituality. Consequently, I’d like to support such people through my words of chizuk (encouragement) here. Some times such criticism comes from the sitra achra (the darker side of our nature), as an attempt to dissuade us from performing the tikkun (healing and restoraive  growth) which may  actually be nothing less than our personal vocation.

Challenges to the authenticity of our experiences and perceptions are not to be avoided or shied away from. They may themselves be a part of the process of purification that the contemplative  is initiating and working through.  Hearing such a Voice—that is  to say, being able to practice a level of intuition that may sometimes approach inspiration— does not produce rock-solid faith in G-d, nor does it produce an unwavering confidence  in one’s interpretations of His Word. If anything, such experiences are more often accompanied by an increase of doubt and periods of self-questioning that are part of the sort of intellectual and spiritual struggle that gives us the name Yisrael*14 a name which is  often translated as ‘one who wrestles’ with G-d.

These periods of struggle are sometimes agonisingly empty and desert-like. Sometimes they are times of storm, wind and fire. The Voice may be a still, small voice *15 but its stillness resembles the apparent stasis of a surgical laser beam coming sometimes with anaesthetic, sometimes without. Our delusions and our false securities are burnt out. One way or the other.

It also has to be said here that those delusions sometimes come temptingly  gift-wrapped in self-promoting misconceptions, and are thus hard to differentiate from the real thing.  There are also times when we are excited by emotional or ecstatic episodes in prayer. Sometimes the mere sensation that we are engaged in a Spiritual Quest can itself create excitement or produce spiritual self-gratification.  If we are not on our guard we may be tempted to elevate ourselves beyond our proper place.  Such delusions are often hard to self-identify, but that task is  not impossible: People who ‘hear voices’ may be suffering from illness; they may feel commanded to perform selfish or hateful acts; they may feel driven by a compulsion which leaves no room for argument or discussion. The Voice I am referring to never causes any of these.

If you ‘hear’ a voice in prayer and doubt its origin, test it.  If hearing  such a voice produces an increase in practical acts of compassion and kindness, of tzedekah and chasadut, and if it removes or diminishes self-absorption or ego-focus, then it is likely to be both safe and healthy.  If it is clearly and demonstrably making you a better person, then trust it.

ooOoo

The method of attentive and receptive prayer that I am promoting is based on the following premise: That if we place ourselves regularly in the presence of G-d, silently or sometimes not so silently,  sooner or later He will do something—and it is my belief that putting ourselves in that situation is somehow of great use to Him. It all takes place in clouded internal worlds of fleeting half awarenesses, but it changes us and makes the world we return to after such prayer different.   If it is not too presumptuous to claim it, I would suggest that by engaging in receptive contemplative prayer, we begin to  perceive things a little more in the way G-d sees them. This simple method assumes that G-d is perfectly capable of  revealing His presence and activity in our dimension if He wants to, but for that to happen, He seems to prefer us to invite Him to do so. It is principally a profound acknowledgement of that belief. 

The proposed form of receptive prayer that I have  presented here is nopt not a passive as it may seem at first glance.  We are by no means exempt from putting considerable effort into the process ourselves. Preparation before standing in His Presence involves considerable care and effort, and  during the prayer-session itself we will often have to work quite hard to clear away the mental clutter that blocks our path. Making an internal space—a chal ha-panui  that He can fill—needs our time, our effort, and our persistence.  Neither is it so passive a method that it consists solely of the exercise itself. The point of standing in attentive contemplation is to be open to inspiration. That is inspiration for action— both spiritual and material action. We do the work it inspires.  The follow-up activity that our prayer session  often generates (by demand or by suggestion) is often  even more arduous than the prayer itself, and it can be much more physical, temporal, spatial—and social— than we bargained for.

We also have to be prepared to accept that our  effort may rarely produce any lasting sense of fulfillment. Similarly, it may not be completed in our (current) lifetime—but “neither should we desist from the task of trying.” *16    One who begins such a contemplative practice needs determination and perseverance—I have known many years when, despite standing in receptive silent prayer regularly (sometimes for hours) most days of the week, I have felt/heard/seen absolutely nothing  that  I  could identify as being a response of any kind. 


Please go back and read that last sentence again— it is really important.


oo0oo

It is possible to engage in contemplative prayer when  sitting, standing, reclining, or strolling. My own preference  is sitting or standing with my eyes closed.   I recommend using a standing posture,  most of all,  because I first started using this method when in the midst of the personal and solitary recitation of the Amidah prayer. a term which itself refers to a standing position.

But I also chose it in reference to two scriptural verses which I take as a kind reference to the sort of contemplative prayer I am describing:

Stand still and consider the wondrous works of G-d” *17

 

and (with its hint at synesthesic replies)—

“Stand still and see the salvation of  HaShem which He will show you today” *18 

 

 In the Amidah (sometimes referred to as the Shemoneh Esrei) many siddurim contain  an invitation to add personal requests and personal prayers. The place for these is usually  in the middle blessings *19   or after the words:

 “May the words of my mouth and  the meditations of my Heart find favour before You,  L-rd my Rock and my Redeemer.”

In fact, the prayer which begins  Elokai netsor l’shoni meira (My G-d, guard my tongue) was inserted into the Amidah as a formalised example of the sort of  personal additional requests and prayers that one  might make at this point. *20       

As such, it is the ideal place  for one to make one’s silent attentive  prayer when  davening privately and alone. When davening during public worship, it is quite likely that, out of concern for the waiting fast-daveners, the community will leave insufficient time for such expanded personal prayer. Weekday communal worship also has to make allowances for the work-schedules of the  congregants, which can often leave little or no time for extended prayer.

Assuming  that one habitually davens with a minyan and wants to make a unit of receptive contemplative prayer at a separate time altogether, here is  a suggested format that  readers might like  to try:


   The sort of contemplative ‘standing’ I am recommending as a method can be taken figuratively rather than posturally. I have simply and respectfully  borrowed the posture and approach choreography from the Amidah as I have  found  it really helps  me to prepare to enter into attentive receptivity with all my body and soul.  It may help you to do that as well.

   The  Amidah choreography of taking three steps forward at its start  has many nuances. Foremost of these is the kabalistic one  in which  the steps  reflect Moshe Rabbeinu’s passage through choshech (darkness), anan (the cloud), and arafel (impenetrable darkness) to approach the Divine.  I take them also in reference to the experience of Eliyahu HaNavi in passing through  ra’ash (earthquake), ruach (wind),  and eysh (fire) before encountering the Voice.

Silent and still attentiveness may often be very hard to achieve or maintain but it can be developed by repetition of the exercise I have  suggested here over time. Distracting thoughts can either be gently dismissed or followed, they might themselves be an intended route to lead you to the same moment of encounter.

  According to R' Yaakov Yosef of Polonoye in his Toldos Yaakov Yosef (Vayakhel), the Baal Shem Tov taught that these machshavot zorot should not be  ignored or cause the meditator to cease praying, but that they should be  elevated by being woven into the meditation itself as their redemptive  tikkun. 

What counts is that you are trying not to be concerned about yourself or what you are doing so much as trying to be prayerfully available to G-d, even though it may be for a very short space of time, and despite being plagued by distractions.

What counts is your attempt to be attentive to Him.

   In presenting this model, I have to leave the reader at the ‘hineini’ point. Each individual needs to grapple with their own ‘creation of the empty space’  using their own experience and creativity. Everyone is unique and needs to find their own ways to do this. In a sense I am hoping to lead you to water but only you can decide when and how to drink.

   There are a million religious and secular meditation books dealing with ways to promote ‘stillness’, ‘mindfulness’, or ‘attentive silence’. They may help, or they may confuse and distract the religious contemplative. Reading about prayer can be a good way to avoid doing it. Nothing beats the ‘suck it and see’ approach because in the end—you are your own Teacher and Tzaddik.

The important thing is your attentiveness to Him.

The Maarat Ha-Lev is not a metzar (a confined space) and  a place of mochin d’katnut (small mindedness). It is the merchav-Kah (G-d’s wide open expanse)*21  and  a vehicle  for transporting us into the Courts of the Divine.  Should you feel like singing or dancing or moving or whatever after some time being still and silent, let it happen. That may actually give you what you are meant to hear or receive.

If nothing happens, or it seems that nothing is happening, remember that “No” and “Not yet” are also answers and that they do not necessarily imply a rejection.

Again: The important thing is your attentiveness to Him.

If you have never done anything like this before or if you feel awkwardly self-conscious despite really wanting to do it—my suggestion is that you persist in making the experiment for a reasonable period on a regular basis before giving up. The fact that contemplative prayer or meditation is a lot less glamorous and than your hopes or expectations may have led you to expect should not be allowed to put you off. You are doing it for Him more than for yourself after all.

As to how often you should perhaps do this kind of meditation: My advice to someone unfamiliar with this kind of prayer is to do it every day, or every few days, or once a week, or whenever you feel called to—but, if possible, more or less regularly and for a reasonable length of time.

I’ll leave the definition of what that might be to you but ask you to remember, if you’ll pardon the anthropomorphism, G-d seems to enjoy an old-fashioned lengthy courtship.

If you find it produces no results in your life—then leave it. It might not be the right time— but you may feel unexpectedly called back to it at a later date.

Or perhaps it’s just not a way meant for you, in which case, He will surely offer you another one.

oo0oo


-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 G-d.

 

   The primary task of the contemplative is  a prophetic one. To be fully effective  as channels of  the Light of Ein Sof,  we have  one principal task: To be still and  to be  attentive to the Divine  Voice.

   The intimate service of the Mitkarevim is not something  that can be adopted part-time as some  sort of spiritual hobby or diversion.  It is dedicated, intentional, and focused.   It involves the whole heart and the whole soul and it is not something  to be played around with. Those who would walk this path must be prepared to streamline things and avoid diversions  if they are to be truly useful to G-d.

It was Israel’s wish at Sinai that Moshe Rabeinu did the listening for us though this does not seem to have been the Divine intention.   Moshe Rabeinu himself wished that all Israel were in receipt of the prophetic spirit and the subsequent institution of the prophetic role was perhaps a kind of compromise.  We were rightly in awe of the terrible Presence  of HaShem at the giving of the Law, and  our humility in seeking that Moshe Rabeinu be  our spokesman is laudable.  But was there an element of cowardice present there  also?  Were we also a little afraid of the responsibility that continued intimacy with HaShem would produce? 

If the Torah which is written on our hearts is ever to be understood and if the spirit of prophecy is to return to us in its fullness: the individually-tailored personal communication, and the spiritually receptive attentiveness which they require is not only desirable, it is crucial. For all Jews.

Ultimately we are said to be destined to become a nation of prophets. If that is to become an immanent reality,  there has to be somebody listening.

The parallel development of contemplative lifestyles and contemplative prayer in the life of all Jews might go some way towards making sure that those ‘listeners’ are in place.

  If  the practice of extended retreat has  sound roots in Jewish Tradition, and if living an intentionally dedicated contemplative lifestyle really is a valuable minority option for modern Jews—then the  Mitkarevim should be encouraged, or else they might not otherwise emerge. Their prophetic and kabbalistic potential might go to waste.  If one truly believes in the power and efficacy of prayer—scripted  and unscripted, public and private, petitional and  contemplative— then it should be reflected in one’s priorities and  in our nation’s move towards Redemption.

The old, or isolated, or disadvantaged, and those forgotten  on the fringes of community are frequently the very Jewish souls who have  the spiritual credentials in hard-won authenticity and in wholehearted ‘searching for G-d’ which might qualify them  to  develop the  prophetic spirit anew.  The isolated,the elderly, and  the infirm are also often the ones  with the time to  focus  on the prayerful task of drawing down the light  and  the strength of Heaven with intensity and perseverance.

 Can we afford to neglect their contemplative potential any longer?

Are you yourself prepared to really  listen to the Voice of the G-d of Israel? 

oo0oo

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 online, 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.

 The tendency to be permanently and actively attached to an iphone or a tablet (or whichever new media-toy is in vogue by the time you read this) means  that we may be more easily sidetracked  into periphal chatting or doodling or socializing on the media-toy and thus completely forget that we were searching for a particular Talmudic reference or halachic psak when we picked it up.  Furthermore, it encourages us to think and feel at a speed  that makes considered reflection a rareity.

I do not carry a phone  around with me habitually its use being reserved for essential business, or for those  times when I need to use its speech-to-text technology due to my severe deafnessbut I often ask myself how many hours have I spent browsing ‘religious/spiritual’ websites at home when I should have been standing in receptive 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 davening or hitbodedut- all I had the energy for was a brief liturgical recitation and a few passing words in the Divine Ear? 

I would be the first person to echo the Kotzker 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, for the aspiring and the experienced contemplative alike, the number one distraction is to be excessively  engaged in reading, talking, (or writing!) about spirituality and contemplation when the task at hand is meant to be action not theory.

  Praying is the principal task of the dedicated Jewish Contemplative—but because it can often be demanding, we put it off, we skimp on it, and  we allow our energies to be spent elsewhere.

oo0oo  

 Israel’s response at Sinai was, and is: “We will do and we will hear.”  That is most often interpreted with the meaning: Israel hears G-d’s voice by observing the commandments—that the practical action of observing the mitzvos leads to spiritual understanding. That is most certainly true. But a complementary interpretation occurs to me.  I’m absolutely certain that there are no accidents:

It surely must be of primary significance

that the first commandment

 in the principal text of Judaism, is

Sh’ma!—Listen!


Israel’s compunction to ‘keep working’ and indeed ‘keep talking’ can sometimes be as counter-productive as it can be dynamic.  We also need to give G-d the chance to get a word in edge-ways. Prayer is a two-way conversation, not  a monologue.

 Judaism has been focussed for centuries on ‘doing’.  But the time is coming when the significance of ‘listening’ will grow in importance.

 We read in Yoel:

And it shall come to pass afterwards that I will pour out My spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and daughters shall prophecy; your elders shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions. *22

In  a letter of Maimonides to the Jews of Yemen we read that shortly before the coming of Moshiach, prophecy will return to the Jewish people.  It is my  belief that the ‘coming of Eliyahu haNavi’  in the days before the start of the Messianic era refers to the re-emergence of  the spirit of that prophet in the souls of those contemplatives who are being truly ‘attentive and receptive’ in their  prayer.

It is time for us to ‘listen’ in contemplative prayer because it is only by paying attention  in receptive contemplation that we can become the prophets, or sons of the prophets that we are all destined to be.

Dedicated Jewish Contemplatives—the Mitkarevim— may well be in the vanguard of those who hasten the coming of that emerging consciousness.

May Hashem open the  minds and hearts of all those who  would hear His Voice, and may His Name be blessed in all the  worlds.



קרבנו מלכנו לעבודתך





אהרון-נחמן  דייויס 

©Nachman Davies

11th Adar  5781

First edition...Spain 2005

Second edition...Tzfat 2021

 


NOTES

*1 Melachim I 19:12: “And after the fire there came a still small voice.And when Eliyahu heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out, and stood at the mouth of the cave.”


*2 Aleinu: Concluding prayer of formal services whose last line reads: Then  the L-rd shall be king over all the earth,on that day the L-rd shall be  One  and  His name One.’ (Zechariya:14)


*3  Sh’ma: A prayerful statement found the tefilin and also recited daily in public and private. Texts are from: Devarim 6, Devarim 11,and  Bamidbar 15. The word ‘sh’ma’  can be  be translated as ‘listen’, ‘hear’, or ‘understand’.


*4  In Mishneh Torah 1:2, the Rambam instructs us that the commandment refers to the Unity of G-d: ‘a fundamental principal on which everything else is based.’

*5   Know before Whom you stand:— “Be careful of the honour of your colleagues ; restrain your children from recitation, and seat them between the knees of the disciples of the wise ; and when you pray, know before Whom you stand ; and by doing so you will  be worthy of the life of the World Beyond.” (Berachot 28b)


*6  Chayei Olom HaBah, trans. R' Aryeh Kaplan in Meditation and Kabbalah, page 107, (Samuel Weiser, York Beach,Maine,1982)


 *7  Shaarei Kedushah, trans. R' Aryeh Kaplan inMeditation and Kabbalah,’ page 197.


*8 Likutey Moharan I:52, trans. R' Aryeh Kaplan in ‘Meditation and Kabbalah,’ page 310.

*9  Likutey Moharan II:25, trans. R'Aryeh Kaplan in ‘Meditation and Kabbalah,’ p. 309.

*10  The Chassidic Masters, R'Aryeh Kaplan, page 73 (Moznaim Publishing  Corporation,New York/Jerusalem, 1984)

*11  This tent of meeting outside the camp (ohel mo-ed asher michutz lamachaneh) is especially significant as it had a resident “Dedicated Jewish Contemplative”, namely Yehoshua, who was permanently on contemplative retreat there in his youth as a sort of custodian. (see Shemot 33:11)


*12  Zohar 1:90a

*13  Shiv’chei Baal Shem Tov 150 : ‘Nothing is accidental. I know that everything,however great or small, is overseen by Heaven. Therefore one must think about the meaning  of everything that happens’.   (quoted in ‘The Path of the Baal Shem Tov, R'  David Sears, page 43 (Rowman & Littlefield publishers INC.,New York,1997)

*14   Bereshit 32:29


*15  (Kol dimamah dakah)     (I Melachim 19:12)


*16  Pirkei Avot 2:21


*17 Iyyov 37:14.


 *18 Shemot 14:13.


*19 Berachot 34a


 *20 Berachot 17a. It was a prayer composed by the Amora, Mar Bar Ravina (Fourth century CE) in the tradition of the sages who used to improvise similar prayers at the conclusion of the Amidah.

*21 Tehillim 118:5


*22  Yoel 3:1