Sefirat Haomer, Part IV

By Shimona Tzukernik

Do you remember The Little Engine that Could? It’s the story of an upbeat engine that saves the day when a long train needs to be pulled over a high mountain. Larger trains refuse the job for various reasons. The small engine is asked to take on the challenge and agrees. Chugging the phrase, “I-think-I-can-I-think-I-can,” he eventually pulls that big train over the mountain.

The book has become a classic. It’s a celebration of optimism, the power of positive thinking, drive and perseverance. In some sense, it’s a metaphor for the American Dream. Just think the right thoughts; manifest your desire on a message board or repeat them to yourself at breakfast and bedtime and hey! – You’ll get what you want.

The catch is, life’s not always like that. In countless situations, despite all of the positive dreaming and thinking and talking and doing, things just don’t turn out the way individuals want.

The question that presents itself is this: Certainly, attitude and ambition are key factors in moving life forward; but is “failure” primarily a result of having the wrong attitude, of not persevering with spunk? Or is it because G‑d gets a bigger picture than our dreams and desires, and nixes our manifestation boards, arrests our ambition and halts life-as-we-would-have-it before it gets off the ground? Is it possible that what we see as failure is not really that at all but rather a kneading of our ego and softening of our edges in accordance with what’s truly best for us?

The interplay between our own ambitions and initiative on the one hand, and Divine influence on the other is complex. Maybe that’s why contemporary culture has taken its fair share of swipes at The Little Engine that Could. One “Far Side” comic features a down-on-his-luck Little Engine sitting at the side of a building with a sign that reads “I thought I could, I thought I could.” Shel Silverstein’s poem “The Little Blue Engine” also refers to the story. However his version ends with the engine almost reaching the top of the hill only to slide back down and crash on the rocks below. His poem closes with the line “If the track is tough and the hill is rough, thinking you can just ain’t enough!”

Whereas the poet’s emphasis is a cynical undercutting of optimism and perseverance which my inner child strongly resists, part of me wholeheartedly endorses the notion that my resolve and steadfast adherence to a goal is no guarantee of making it up the mountain. If anything, relying solely on myself compromises the very foundation of my endeavors. Buying in to the fact that the course of my life is a product exclusively of my desire, my thought patterns and the determination to see them actualized is arrogant. It’s also dangerous. Unmitigated ambition causes pain and damage.

The building of the Tower of Babel is a wonderful example of this ilk of go-getters. It tangibly demonstrates how climbing the corporate ladder can run amok. Fired by a vision, emboldened by ambition, each member of that generation said to the other, “Prepare yourselves! Let us mold bricks and fire them!…Prepare yourselves! Let us build ourselves a city with a tower whose top is in the skies! Let us make ourselves a name, so we do not become scattered upon the face of the entire earth.”1

The ambition, entrepreneurship, innovation and perseverance of the generation are archetypical of all later effort. It’s irrelevant what that endeavor is. Whether running the triathlon, starting a business, managing a home, composing music, or any other sincere effort to achieve something, we’re each in some way building a tower driven by ambition. As individuals we reflect the personal drive that spurred them on to action. At the level of team work, we’re modeling something of the great collaborative effort involved in building the tower that was to pierce the very skies.

As we all know though, the end of the story does not end well. In fact, it’s one of the low points in the history of humanity. So fanatical were the people who built the tower that in their zeal to complete it, if a brick fell down and broke, all wept saying, “How difficult it will be to replace it!” But if a man fell down and died, no one even looked at him. Sound familiar? We all resonate with the teaching because we know it personally.

We’re familiar with it either because we’ve acted that way to others or been treated that way by others. Probably both. What first comes to mind for me is an article I recently read in Forbes magazine on developers in India shunting slum dwellers out of the slums because right now, the location is hot and the almost million inhabitants of Dharavi are inconveniently standing between Mister Make-It and Rupees galore. But I needn’t go that far. The same dynamic – if not event – happens on my block when a landlord loads his building with dozens of cell towers catty-corner across the street from a school of over a thousand kids. You get the picture.

In response to the emotional and spiritual underpinnings of this flurry of activity, G‑d became indignant. He said, “They are one people, they all have one language, and this is what they have begun to do! Shouldn’t they be stopped from everything they have planned to do? Prepare yourselves!,” G‑d declared to the heavenly multitude. “Let us descend and confuse their language, so that they will not understand each other.” New dialects and languages emerged. Soon, our sages relate, one asked for a brick and the other brought mortar. The fist attacked him and smashed his skull. The glorious collaboration, the Dubai of its day, came to an end amidst animosity, alienation and death (much like the Dubai of our day. Ahem.)

The seed of the great downfall of the Generation of the Dispersal was sown at the very outset of the project. The essential problem was that their desire for success and intense activity were born of egoistic intent. The Kli Yakar comments that, “Originally they were all unified…However they also wanted to ‘make a name for themselves.’ In looking out for their own reputation, they tried to outdo each other and became so self-involved that they created the opposite effect of their original intention: discord and controversy.”2

Rabbi Dov Ber Schneerson is of the opinion that, “The people of that generation understood that G‑d’s blessing flows into a place of peace and harmony. They figured that by keeping together, they would be able to bring down sufficient Divine blessing for physical prosperity without having to work too hard as individuals.”3

Both opinions, albeit different, communicate that ego was the groundswell behind the business of building the tower. This inner core of selfishness became manifest in the violence that characterized their endeavor. Predicated on ulterior motives, their ambition and drive was not mitigated by a sense of others. It was not informed in the least by the awareness that our capacity for perseverance and other abilities come from G‑d.

What this all boils down to is that it’s not the ambition itself that is negative but rather the point from which it springs. Ambition, like everything else in life, is both bad and good. It’s bad if born of ego. The holy version though is essential for human survival. If not for drive, tenacity and perseverance, we wouldn’t get much done. Perseverance empowers us in this moment to actualize our goals and visions for the future.

In Hebrew we would call this ability Netzach. More than being ambition or perseverance per se, Netzach is the underlying force that drives the ambition. That explains the correlation between the literal translation of Netzach as ‘victory” and the notion of perseverance. We anticipate victory and therefore persevere, and by corollary, because we persevere we are victorious. This soul power taps in to our life mission, giving expression to our deepest desire to conquer exile and manifest the Oneness that pervades reality.

In the Kabbalistic model of the human soul mapped out in the tree of life, Netzach is the fourth of the emotional capacities of the soul. The very top of this tree is like a crown that sits above the head. This crown is the three-fold supra-conscious realm of knowing in a non-tangible way. Here we simultaneously touch and don’t touch reality. We sense existence from afar akin to the way the openings in our skull hover above the actual brain, allowing for a sensing of reality that is in many ways higher than the intellectual mind.

Moving down the Tree, we come to the conscious mind. It too is comprised of three. They are the core ways the mind frames existence namely conceptualizing, analyzing and internalizing. Lower on the tree lie the three primary emotions. These are love, awe and empathy. Finally there’s the last triad comprised of what we might call emotions-in-action. They are ambition or perseverance, humility and human connectivity. Each is born of emotion but the drive in this realm of our being begins to move more strongly outward, seeking tangible expression in the physical world, as opposed to the core emotions which are more connected to the heart itself.

As with each of the soul powers, there’s no person who won’t have each running through his or her emotional rainbow. The question is merely, “Will it be in a holy or unholy form.” The story of the building of the Tower of Babel illustrates the arrogance, violence and destruction characteristic of unholy Netzach. That account finds stark contrast in another building project, one that displays the most holy form of the skill, namely the construction of the Temple of Solomon.

At the outset of the construction, King Solomon communicated to Hiram, Phoenician King of Tyre that, “You knew that my father David was not able to build a house for…G‑d because of the war that surrounded him…And now, G‑d my G‑d has granted rest on all sides – there is no adversary and no misfortune. Therefore I have decided to build a house for the Name of G‑d my G‑d…Command (your servants) that they cut down cedars for me from Lebanon. My servants will be with your servants and I will provide you with the wages of your servants according to whatever you say.”

The two kings and two nations worked harmoniously together. Others participated in the project. In a profound Biblical underlining of the sense of peace that imbued the endeavor, we’re taught that neither hammers, nor chisels, nor any iron utensils were heard in the Temple during its construction. This was because whereas iron implements are used to shorten men’s lives, the Temple was constructed to prolong life. It’s a bold thumbs up to life and peace.

Working with great vigor, Solomon managed to finish the Temple within seven years. From start to finish, the project bore testimony to a vision and drive tempered by love and humility. That’s why at its completion, G‑d told Solomon that it was a place where the Divine Presence could rest. Rather than pose a counter challenge of “Prepare yourselves!” as He had done with the Babel builders, G‑d here promises that His presence will dwell in the House. And all this was accomplished with dedication and focused ambition within the course of only seven years!

The bottom line is this: we can fail for lack of cultivating a vision and lack of trying. But by the same token, we can fail for trying too strongly, from ambition un-tempered by humility. It’s essential to remember that G‑d does see the bigger picture and that if He “nixes my manifestation board” it’s for a greater good. That focus helps take the cutting edge out of ambition and effort, rendering it potent but not destructive.

We all need people who inspire us to follow our dreams. Just as importantly, we need to be aroused to the awareness that it’s not, “My strength and the power of my hand that has accomplished all this success.” I may be a Little Engine with a powerful drive. But if not for the Master engineer, there’s no story to tell at all! Shel Silverstein may just have the right end to the story. With apologies to the original, I’d venture to say,

I-pray-I-can-I-pray-I-can and remind myself…
If your ego’s tough and your attitude rough;
Strutting your stuff just ain’t enough!

FOOTNOTES
1. Genesis 11

2. Kli Yakar, Genesis 11:1

3. Torat Chaim, Bereishit 63c ff

This article was origionally posted on www.thejewishwoman.org

Sefirat Haomer, Part III

By Shimona Tzukernik

An editor once told me, “Great writing should read like a hot knife through butter.” What an analogy! The author has to work the text so that the ideas flow seamlessly. The form and function must become one entity. Sure you can leave the reader intellectual or emotional work to do in processing the writing, but the actual text itself must unite with what it is coming to convey, allowing the reader to cut through it as a hot knife through butter.

Few things in life are seamless. We live in polarized worlds–some more than others–but opposed nonetheless. Each of us though has the possibility of finding balance. We can generate powers within our being that blend other diverse aspects of who we are in one smooth continuity. One of them is the emotional ability Kabbalah terms Tiferet, the translation of which includes balance, truth, harmony, beauty, compassion and empathy.

To call it seamless appears to be a misnomer. After all, truth and compassion, balance and empathy seem to be distinct from one another. More so, one could even say they contain opposite dimensions: compassion feels somewhat blurry and truth absolute, for example. What does beauty have to do with empathy other than that being empathic is considered a “nice” thing to do? When we look at the translations, we realize that Tiferet is way more complex than the literal translation of the word, “Beauty.” What in actuality is it?

One entry point is the body. Tiferet is associated with the heart center. In fact each soul attribute is mapped onto the body. According to the same model, love is associated with the right shoulder-blade. The manifestation of love, the attribute of Chesed, is linked with the right arm. So too awe – or fear – is associated with the left shoulder. Its manifestation in the form of restraint, discipline and respect, is connected with the left arm. In this way, each of the mystical spheres on the Tree of Life is mapped onto the soul and in turn finds a visual representation in the form of the human body.

Clearly the heart center is a middle point in the body. It lies at the center of the spine which itself forms the center of the body, connecting the top of the skull with the coccyx. Mystically too the heart is a point of blending, a coming together of different attributes in a unique way. What’s distinct about it is that whereas our heart-tiferet center brings together diverse feelings, the sum total of those feelings is no longer the individual points that form it but something entirely new, seamless in its dimensions. It is often described as a blending of love and awe, loving-kindness and respect. In truth it is much more.

Each of the abilities of the soul blends various components. Each covers a subtle range of differentiation. We don’t just love or respect. Our ways of thinking and our feelings might shift from love to anger. More often, the very same feeling changes in delicate ways – at times from moment to moment. Take love for example. Sometimes the love is pure and manifest. At other times, we might need to draw from fear–even anger–to keep the love going.

In real life that looks like setting boundaries in a relationship; taking a stance against those things that oppose the ideals you love and subscribe to; or fearing being separated from the one you love and thus doing all you can to nurture the connection. That’s what we’d call fear-in-love. You’re fully in love mode. Everything is about bringing more of it into the world. It’s just that you do it in diverse ways, some of which might even appear contrary to the central goal of generating love and connection.

Conversely, there’s love-in-fear. What are the real-life scenarios that display this particular color on the emotional spectrum? Enticing someone with a reward to get them to tow the line, or supporting causes that rid the world of evil. Here you’re fully in fear-or-awe-mode. All the shades of that restraint serve the ultimate goal of creating healthy boundaries and ultimately awe of G‑d.1

Yet despite the fact that in both the above examples there’s a merging of opposites, the love is still love, and the fear is fear. The variegation is there in a way that is subordinate to the primary attribute.

Tiferet is different. Here, in the heart, love and fear unite as one. The resulting ability is something new and distinct.

We can take an example from another soul power. Being a balance point, it also lies on the spine, only one center up from the heart. This is Da’at, our ability to know the world. It is the third of three intellectual faculties,2 the first of which is our ability to conceptualize3 and the second to analyze.4 Da’at is the aspect of knowledge where we internalize the information we’ve been processing.

This kind of knowing allows us to absorb ideas because we have explored them subtly and thereby have become intimate with the concepts. The word is the name of one of the trees in the Garden of Eden – the Tree of Knowledge. That knowledge was about the distinction between good and evil. Whereas we are asked not to judge others, Torah living means we will make distinctions between what is right and wrong.5 In that sense, the attribute of Knowledge is associated with the color grey, or silver. It’s the place where our mind can sustain opposites. In fact, it is the point where all the parts of an idea fuse into one whole.

When we can do that, we can take ideas in as part of ourselves because at that point we are no longer defensive or exploring an idea with an agenda. We are truly open to what it has to tell us.6 This is the reason our prayer services end with the words, “You must know it today and bind it to your hearts.” There’s a domino effect that happens with intimate, subtle knowledge. Once you get it, you automatically absorb the concept into your heart in a way that’s user-friendly, allowing not only for emotional resonance with ideas but also for new action.

Tiferet enacts in the heart what Da’at enacts in the mind. It is the point where not ideas, but emotions unite to emerge as a powerful new force, full of subtlety, experienced empirically, and which open us to a much vaster world than the one we’ve lived in without it.

Think of it as two people with different personalities uniting in marriage to form a whole. Or better yet, imagine your own faculties of head and heart, thought and feeling. They are so different as to contradict each other: thought is cold and objective, feeling warm and subjective. You can live your life as a person who is detached from one or the other. Or you can live in a way where your mind acknowledges your heart and vice versa but where the two are in constant conflict with each other. Alternatively, you can marry the two, creating inner peace. What you generate within yourself is akin to the child that is an entirely new person born of the body of both mother and father.7

Tiferet then is a particular kind of balance in the heart. It is akin to Da’at in that there is no splitting; opposites disappear leaving only wholeness and unity.

In order to generate this kind of consciousness, whether in the mind or heart, a third attribute is needed. When two opposites meet, you need a higher entity to bring resolution. Or if for example you’re in an argument, you need something or someone higher to effect healing and resolution. It doesn’t matter whether that thing is a loftier internal consciousness or a person outside of you. What matters is that the healing insight is coming from a more transcendent place. As Einstein said, “No problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it.”

In Kabbalistic terms, the heart-point turns to the supra-conscious in order to fuse love and respect. Ultimately, all our soul abilities derive from this one indivisible point of our highest supra-conscious. By pulling from the source, where love and respect are one prior to individuating, the heart is able to create a new experience.

We call it Tiferet, “beauty,” because as the individual elements of love and awe disappear, they are reborn in a more glorious whole.

One finds the same notion of beauty when it comes to the arts. An artist can be technically proficient, even excellent, but the work will lack life. Aesthetically it dies on the canvas. In such a work there is line, color, form. But each is present on the canvas in a way that calls attention to itself. By contrast, the great works of art display a merging of all the components in such a way that a new, living, compelling entity is born of them.

This beauty is not monochrome. Think of a Rothko. To the uninitiated, one may superficially dismiss these creations of genius as, “A color slapped on canvas! I could do it!” We’ve all heard some aesthetic peasant say the same. But if you take even just a moment, the beauty of the layers and subtlety shines through in a luminous, vibrating surface that speaks of all the subtlety, the myriad layers, of the universe.

Take even a work by Franz Klein. Seen in person, the edges of his lines shimmer with individuality, the white is not “white” and the black not “black.” Even in his minimalist renditions, Klein captures the full range of life’s subtlety.

Tiferet is spiritual artistry, spiritual beauty. It’s the ability to marry two opposites and form a uniquely new dimension in the heart. That’s why it’s referred to by so many different names. The blending gives our heart center a full range from truth to empathy, beauty to compassion. The common point between them all is the idea of opposites merging. Truth is not one-sided. If I really want to know the truth, I have to look at it from all angles, my perspective and yours. In that sense it’s like Beauty, Balance and Harmony.

At the psychological level of Compassion and Empathy, balance is also the guiding light. Here you are no longer driven by your personal pre-dispositions. In Tiferet, I can take myself out of myself. Maybe I’m a person who is naturally kind, or the opposite. When it comes to Balance and Compassion, my personal inclinations are no longer the driving force of my choices. Here it’s all about Truth. What does the situation ask of me? I ask, “What is needed” rather than, “What would I want? What do I think is right?”

Mystically we said that love and respect die, or disappear, momentarily to be reborn as something new. At the humanistic level the same thing applies. To enter into compassion means my ego dies in the interaction. I can feel the other person as she feels herself.

Here, in the heart, we are soul-artists. We can compose a text that’s as easy to cut through as a knife through hot butter. We can create jazz or symphonies by allowing for all of reality to fill our lives rather than live according to the rules we’ve gone by for the past x number of decades. We can create masterpieces as we access the vast world we’ve been missing out on without all that balance and beauty.

FOOTNOTES

1. One must remember though that the ultimate purpose of the restraint and discipline is in order to generate more

love and connection. Fear in Kabbalistic terms is never solely for the purpose of fear itself.

2. The acronym of these is referred to as ChaBaD.

3. In Hebrew it is called Chochma, often translated as “wisdom.”

4. In Hebrew it is called Bina, often translated as “understanding.”

5. Unfortunately most of us spend much of life confessing the “sins” of others whilst resisting looking at our own

accountability. In really unhealthy and unholy states, this kind of “knowledge” splits the world into black and white, all-good and all-bad. But life’s not like that. It’s full of subtlety. Yes, holy Da’at is about making distinctions based on what G‑d wants of us but most of life presents us with choices that are not black or white. It is only by exploring all the facets, being subtle, that we truly know about G‑d, another, or the world.

6. Da’at is also the word used to convey the intimate union between Adam and Eve. It is when we hold the full spectrum of the other that we can begin to attain intimacy.

7. Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneerson taught that Chassidut establishes a bridge between head and heart. When challenged that the two are worlds apart, he counted with the notion that at the very least, the study of this deepest, mystical dimension of the Torah sets up telephone wires between head and heart. The two can begin to talk to each other.

On another occasion, the Rebbe stated that the purpose of Chassidut is to teach the heart to think and the mind to feel.

This article was originally posted on www.thejewishwoman.org