We set an intention for the evening finger-writing the words of the intention into the air, an act of commitment. Many spiritual disciplines begin with an intention, if not the finger-writing. This hour is intended to be a spiritual exercise.

We began with definitions and distinctions:

Keva vs. Kavannah: Keva is doing something according to a fixed schedule. Kavannah is the intention, or doing something only when one has the inclination or the spirit so moves. Both have value. Even if one is doing something by keva without kavannah, during the process the kavannah might emerge.

What makes a story never-ending? If the expression “that reminds me…” arises, that suggests a story is not complete. In Hebrew one might find the expression “mashal l’mah ha-devar domeh“ which means “here’s a story that relates to the matter at hand.”

After last week's session which delved into the institution of the rabbinate in the time of the Baal Shem Tov, and reflected on the current state of the rabbinate, I received this message. “I received” might be understood as a physical message placed into my hand, or a message or story that was received within my imagination. Either way, it is a continuation of the story from last week’s session:

During the week I had a message from the CEO of a branding company who consults with significant corporations undergoing restructuring. He wrote: I was with you Monday night listening to the tale of the Baal Shem Tov banging his head against a tree. That reminded me. A few years ago, I was consulted by a friend who was the president of a congregation that was searching for a new rabbi. She asked me to take a look at their operation and the job description they had written. I took on the assignment pro bono, but as I would any other client, with due diligence. The congregation claimed to have 350 families. (Ten years ago it had 700.) It had 45 kids in the religious school. (It used to have 250.) It did 10 bar mitzvahs a year. (It used to be 40.) It was having trouble maintaining a minyan. Their job description specified a rabbi who could deliver powerful sermons, who had the maturity to counsel families through difficult times but who was young enough to attract young families. It was the same job description they had used for the previous rabbi, and the rabbi before that. When I charted their demographics, I found a major hole in their customer base. It seemed that families left the congregation after bar mitzvah and many didn’t return until they needed senior services. I suggested that they search for a rabbi who could challenge young adults during the most creative periods of their lives and bring that creativity into the synagogue. They listened but couldn’t imagine what such a rabbi would be like or what that rabbi would do, so they submitted the same job description as before. They now claim to have 200 families, but I’m not sure that’s the real number.

This is a story one might share with the leadership of conventional congregations in a state of decline.

We continued with more definitions and distinctions: Halachah vs. Agadah. Halachah is Jewish law. Agadah is everything else - tales, history, philosophy, psychology… . Sefer Agadah is a compilation of all the agadic material the authors, Hayim Nahman Bialik and Yehoshua Hana Ravnitzky, could compile from the Talmud and the Midrash. It was translated into English by William G. Braude in 1992 with the title The Book of Legends. The text runs to a little more than 800 pages. A random selection from a Zoom contributor led us to page 455, #499:

Walk before Me and be thou perfect (tamim) (Gen. 17:1). Rabbi Levi said: The verse will be understood by the parable of a Roman noblewoman to whom the emperor said. “Walk before me.” As she walked before him, her face turned pale, for she thought: Who knows but that the emperor has found some defect in me? But the emperor said, “You have no defect other than the nail of your little finger is a bit too long. Pare it, and the defect will be gone.” So, too, the Holy One said to our father Abraham, “You have no defect other than this foreskin. Remove it, and you will be free of imperfection. Walk before me and be thou perfect, as soon as I set (the mark of) My covenant between thee and Me.” (Gen 17:2)

What a story! It was replete with a plethora of trigger words and concepts for deep teaching - but how would it lend itself to a story that never ended? If we haven’t mentioned it before, we mention it again that there are two ways to convey spiritual learning - one by direct teaching, the other by storytelling. One may need prerequisites to follow a direct teaching, but a story is accessible by all, each person at his or her own level. The exploration that followed the reading of the above passage touched upon a number of teachings and suggested a story. Let’s see if we can follow that process.

Walk before Me and be thou perfect (tamim) (Gen. 17:1). - Perfect may not be the best translation of tamim. Pure might be better. But the notion of perfect - what it means to be perfect - demanded attention, but we continued into the text.

Rabbi Levi said: - This was likely Rabbi Joshua ben Levi, c. 250CE, one of the first generation of Talmudic rabbis in Israel. He was considered a spiritual adept and would be consulted for spiritual advice. He is saying the following in response to someone who questions him on the meaning of the initial verse. This is what he says…

The verse will be understood by the parable of a Roman noblewoman to whom the emperor said. “Walk before me.” - The rabbis often tell tales of Roman noblewomen by way of example.

As she walked before him, her face turned pale - She was fearful. Fear is the primary experience when a subject stands for examination before royalty. But the emperor sets her fears aside and reassures her that her imperfection is minimal and correctable. She needs only to pare her fingernail. Then Rabbi Levi compares the interaction between the emperor and the Roman noblewoman to the interaction between the Holy One and Abraham.

So, too, the Holy One said to our father Abraham, “You have no defect other than this foreskin. Remove it, and you will be free of imperfection.” - Removal of the foreskin is as minimal as the paring of a fingernail.

At this point two paths were available for our learning - one a teaching, the other the continuation of a story. Adam opened with a teaching:

What does it mean to be perfect? How can something as small as a foreskin or a fingernail shift status from imperfect to perfect? We noticed how gender played a role in both the mashal and nimshal. The woman’s fingernail and Abraham’s foreskin; seemingly insignificant, extraneous, physicalities, once removed somehow perfects. The Arizal (Luria) explains that brit milah, is the physical mark on the body expressing the spiritual reality at the core of Jewish thought; our perceived reality is but a veil, a garment, concealing the Infinite permeating throughout all creation and existence. The foreskin is the flesh covering the organ most physically grounded and tethered to the physical plane of existence. The phallus has a cornucopia of metaphysical imagery bridging the inner world of emotions and how that funnels out into the “real world” experienced by ourselves and others— [from the lower six middot in the world of yetzirah to the world of malchut-the “real world”. It grounds the body in the world of asiyah. It is paralleled in the Eitz Chaim to the sefirah of yesod becoming emblematic of the Tzadik].— The foreskin is the physical expression of the spiritual barrier bifurcating the physical and spiritual worlds. Removal of the foreskin through the ritual act of brit milah is the constant physical reminder to be aware of and strive to see past the veiled reality we so often get lost in.

While we did not specifically discuss how the act of brit milah is or is not paralleled in the experiences of people born without a penis, we did discuss the following: we experience life the way in which we are able to experience our own lives which is outrageously limited to our own selves. I cannot experience life as you, nor you as me. We might be able to discuss what it is to be human, American, or Jewish, but the more personal and specific we get, the more nuanced those differences become and the harder they are to articulate in ways that allow for another to grasp the depth from which words are shared. Genders, in the widest possible term, are inherently limited expressions of what it means to be in the world. For the sake of this conversation and exploring the depth of what we discussed in our session, I want to invite us to look beyond the limitations of gendered language and garments. Perhaps we can look at the mashal and nimshal in reverse, equating the act of brit milah to be as physically insignificant as having a nail that is just a little too long. In any case, the discussion continued into an exploration of what does it mean to be perfect…

… what does it mean to be perfect? - Mashal l’mah ha-devar domeh. Here is a story that relates to the matter at hand, becoming perfect.

A spiritual seeker was troubled by the verse: Walk before Me and be perfect. First - what did it mean to walk before God? The very notion of approaching the King of the universe was terrifying! And what did it mean to be perfect? If he should be less than perfect, a judgmental king might take off his head!

The spiritual seeker heard that a Rabbi Levi was the one to ask. “I’m an imperfect person,” the seeker began. “Abraham needed only circumcision. Then he could stand without fear before God. For me, it’s not a matter of circumcision. I’m aware of my defects. It’s as if I’m a baal mum, a defective person, not permitted even to stand in the presence of God.”

Rabbi Levi responded, “It’s not as if God is King of the world. Rather consider Him like a loving father. Would a loving father turn away a son with defects?” “You don’t know my father!” the seeker said. “By him my only defect is that I’m on a spiritual quest. He doesn’t want to see me until I settle down and get a job!”

The seeker traveled through the world asking in every village how he might stand in the presence of God, defective as he was, until at last he came to the village of the Baal Shem Tov. He asked the holy master, “What do I have to offer Melech ha-olam - the King of the world? Whatever gift I might bring, would God receive it from one as defective as I am?” The Baal Shem Tov said, “It’s not as if God is a king residing in a palace.” “Then what if I approached Avinu b’shemayim - our Father in heaven. Would He even listen to me, defective as I am? What words might I offer?” The Baal Shem Tov said, “Do you think the Creator of heaven and earth needs words?” “Then how am I to approach God?” “As a partner,” the Baal Shem Tov said. “Consider yourself as a partner with the Creator in the process of creation.” “But I’m such a small part of creation,” the seeker said, “and defective at that. What could I possibly bring to the General Partner of the universe?”

The Baal Shem Tov did not answer. But the seeker was intrigued by the notion he was a partner with the Creator. He left with a mission, to determine how he might approach his Divine Partner, to learn what he might bring as an offering. He traveled to different lands and learned from different traditions.

The spiritual seeker had all he needed but did not know it. Too often we do not recognize the value of what is close at hand, so we look for it elsewhere - in Buddhism or Hinduism or Sufism or SomeOtherIsm. If our seeker had ventured into current kabbalistic thinking, he might have encountered something like this:

From the perception of the Holy One who is not bound in time or space, the experiment of creation which came into being in order to do something (perfect the world, tikkun olam), has already come and gone having completed its task. The Holy One dwells in a space inside and outside of time, so all of existence came into being and fulfilled its task where the Holy One who will be already is, looking back at what was and the process of perfection that has already occurred. We, however, are trapped in the liminal space of existence, tasked to perfect what we must perfect. This text seems to point at the idea that all that is needed to become perfect is the small tweak of a fingernail or a foreskin.

Are we so close to perfection? Was Abraham? Is the woman in front of the king? Who determines that perfection? The Sfat Emet teaches that there is a glimmer of Shabbat in everything; if it exists, it has been created, and therefore is complete the way it needs to be in this very moment. Is striving for perfection the goal or is it realizing perfection as it is? How does the Holy One see us? How do we see ourselves?

Should one study in every tradition, one might come to realize that all are working toward the same end, but with unique vocabulary and with unique traditions. We return to the story of the Holy Seeker:

When the seeker left the Baal Shem Tov, he did so with a mission, to determine what a Divine Partner might want of him. Wherever he traveled, he looked for what he might do to sustain or develop or restore the world around him, hoping such would be acceptable. As he became aware of ever finer needs, he also became more aware of his defects. At last, when he ran into an obstacle he couldn’t overcome, he journeyed to the Main Office to stand face to face with his General Partner. He knew exactly what to bring as an offering. He brought his defects.