Arthur Kurzweil

“Why get married?”

Arthur Kurzweil — Fri, 18 May 2012 04:02:16 +0000

There is a certain difference between the Kingdom of Heaven and the Yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven.

It may be compared to the enraptured love of engaged couples and the mutual obligations and duties of married couples.

Love can remain magnificent and blissful throughout all the stages of a relation.

Why get married?

Why do we have to get mixed up with obligatory constraints and endless liabilities?

Indeed, it would be wonderful, perhaps, for love to remain free of all bonds, duties, and even promises.

But life seems to have decided otherwise, both in personal scope and in the national setting.

The day of the giving of the Torah at Mt. Sinai was the wedding day of the Jewish people.

–Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

From The Candle of God by Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

“Profound mystical experiences”

Arthur Kurzweil — Thu, 17 May 2012 04:02:30 +0000

Study of esoteric teachings was not merely theoretical.

It seems to have been accompanied by profound mystical experiences which were apparently dangerous for those imperfectly prepared.

These experiences were known, we believe, as pardess (entering the orchard), and there is a well-known story in the Talmud about four sages who entered this "orchard":

R. Akiva, Simeon Ben Zoma, Simeon Ben Azai, and Elisha Ben Abuya.

They were guided by the wisest and most experienced among them, R. Akiva, and it is related that he warned them of certain dangers awaiting them in words that could have no meaning for those who had not travelled in those spheres.

Despite his guidance, however, the group was unable to withstand the dangers:

Ben Azai died, Ben Zoma lost his reason, and Ben Abuya "uprooted plants," that is, arrived at heretical views, apparently under Gnostic influence.

Only R. Akiva "went in in peace and came out in peace."

This story is the most detailed but not the sole description extant, and its intention was to emphasize the dangers awaiting those who entered into this domain.

The teaching of Ma'aseh Bereshit (concerning creation) was therefore never carried out in public, and was always confined to one disciple.

Thus a student whose qualifications were closely examined did not receive detailed instruction but was merely taught outlines of the subject.

In this way, if he did not display aptitude and did not himself arrive at a mystical experience, he would not be harmed by the knowledge imparted to him.

We find, for example, that R. Elazar Ben Arakh lectured on this subject to his teacher, Rabban Yohanan Ben Zakkai, who was amazed at the understanding he displayed.

Other disciples told Yohanan of their discoveries in this sphere, and he replied:

"These words were said to Moses on Sinai."

–Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

From The Essential Talmud by Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz: “We are no longer listening”

Arthur Kurzweil — Wed, 16 May 2012 04:02:53 +0000

It is written that the voice on Sinai was a mighty voice that did not stop.

Many years later this is repeated in much of the chasidic literature, that the voice giving the Law, the Ten Commandments, never stopped.

It is still giving the Law, for ever and ever, for eternity.

Put in another way, there is a very clear message that is always being transmitted.

The thing that has changed is that we are no longer listening.

–Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

From On Being Free by Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

“All the accumulated oral traditions are considered part of the original written Torah”

Arthur Kurzweil — Tue, 15 May 2012 04:02:21 +0000

Theologically and not only theologically, the Revelation at Mount Sinai is the core of Judaism.

And this not only because it is the beginning but because it is apprehended as a total and all-inclusive revelation.

That is, this revelation is considered the opening point, the transition point, between the higher essence and the lower essence—between God and man.

After this revelation there is actually no need for a new revelation because besides being the first or original of its kind, the Revelation is a one-time event that includes all the other revelatory events.

It has been compared to the primordial act of the creation of the world, which was also a first and single act and included all that was and will be in the world.

So, too, the Revelation at Mount Sinai is such a unique event containing in it all that afterward will ever be made known about the connection between God and man.

Therefore the Jewish tradition is full and complete—not because it relies only on an ancient single source, the Bible, but because it is open to additions.

All the accumulated oral traditions are considered part of the original written Torah.

Even details of the oral Torah, obviously belonging to a much later period, are considered to be continuations of the original revelation.

It is all the same revelation, written or oral, and includes the ancient text and the ever-changing unwritten social form and custom.

–Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

From After the Bright Light of Revelation: A Conversation with Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz in On Being Free by Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

“The great filtering of Divine Revelation at Sinai”

Arthur Kurzweil — Mon, 14 May 2012 04:02:37 +0000

Even though much of the biblical tradition relates to legends and events that occurred before the giving of the Torah, this total Revelation at Mount Sinai stands at the center of the world of Jewish consciousness.

All the other sources that presumably preceded it, like certain stories of the creation of the world, the origins of the laws and customs of ancient society, and so on, did not reach Judaism independently.

They passed through the great filtering of Divine Revelation at Sinai.

The influences of the outer world, ancient legends and lore of the nations round about, certainly spread to the Jewish people of the time, but it was all cast into the melting pot of the Jewish tradition itself.

The bright light of revelation of the Torah at Sinai fused it into a single entity.

It was a process that was repeated in subsequent generations.

To the extent that external influences did find their way into Judaism, they almost always appeared as subsidiary, not intrinsic to the core.

And indeed there was a certain opposition to them; if they could not be merged, they were ultimately ejected.

When they did melt into the Jewish tradition, they were so thoroughly integrated that it would be almost impossible to identify them as foreign.

–Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

From a conversation with Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz in Pababola, reprinted in The Strife of the Spirit

Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz: “The individual journey begins when a person tears himself away from the state of aimlessness”

Arthur Kurzweil — Sun, 13 May 2012 04:02:48 +0000

At first glance, it seems that the Exodus from Egypt is not nearly as important as the giving of the Torah.

The Exodus is the mere deliverance of the people of Israel from slavery, whereas the giving of the Torah is the event that shaped the character of our people.

In other words, the giving of the Torah is the beginning of Jewish history, whereas the Exodus from Egypt—like the stories about the patriarchs—is, in this sense, prehistory.

If we translate historical events into terms pertaining to each individual's pilgrimage toward his true goal in life—the Promised Land—then the three festivals, together with their natural/agricultural symbolism of spring (Passover), reaping (Shavuot), and harvest (Sukkot), can be seen as landmarks along that path.

The individual journey begins when a person tears himself away from the state of aimlessness.

This is the first step.

At this point everything is still in the embryonic stage, incomplete and undefined—the festival of spring.

Clearly, at this stage one does not fully understand the significance and future consequences of the spontaneous first step into the unknown.

Only later does one reach a degree of maturity and self-knowledge that gives an understanding of the road taken.

This is the time of the receiving of Torah, the feast of reaping.

And only long after, possibly many years later, does one reach full awareness and the ability to enjoy the good fruits.

This is the tranquil hour of "the season of our joy"—the feast of harvest.

These three stages of spiritual development can be found, in various forms, in the life of every individual, as well as in the spiritual and historical course of the nation as a whole.

The Exodus from Egypt is the departure from material and spiritual nothingness in the direction of a new and as yet unknown destination.

The spiritual baggage at the moment of this crucial decision is almost nonexistent.

At most, it is "the bread of affliction."

Only later, farther along the path chosen without knowledge, does one reach full understanding; only then are goals and aspirations formulated in fixed laws.

Then a person can see things in their entirety and evolve a bird's-eye view of his way in life and what it entails.

This is the hour of the giving of Torah to the entire nation, and the hour of the receiving of Torah by the individual.

The time of receiving the Torah is a time of turmoil and inner strife, despite the newly acquired spiritual and intellectual maturity.

Things are forced upon us—"God forced the Mount [of Sinai] over the people of Israel like a pail" (Shabbat 88a)—and we find it difficult to absorb all of this novelty, which, however close to the heart, is as yet foreign to the spirit.

Only after a lengthy period of digestion and adjustment does one attain a sense of inner integrity, wholeness, and peace.

It is then that one feels capable of harvesting the crops that have grown in the course of time, and of enjoying them in calm and happiness.

There are three points, then, in a man's path: the decision, the understanding, and the rejoicing.

All are essential and important, but not equally important.

Which one bears the greatest significance?

At the point of departure, the people of Israel were a nation of slaves in body, mind, and spirit.

They had no spiritual content or any real goal in life.

The only thing they did have was a vague sense of continuity, an obscure link with their forefathers.

This is what prevented them from assimilating completely with the Egyptians, and what prepared them for what they were about to be given.

Then came the call to depart from Egypt.

The very desire for freedom was a tremendous revolution in the soul of this nation of slaves.

It was the awakening of the need for inner freedom that exists in the soul of every individual.

And although they did not yet know God, and had no idea as to how the Exodus would in fact occur—they believed.

The slaves had neither knowledge nor understanding, and yet they went out into an unknown and unmapped desert.

Such a spark of faith can enable those who possess it to overcome all dangers and obstacles.

True, this path of faith is almost bereft of profound intellectual content, but it creates a link that goes much deeper than that of any other kind.

It is a relationship of devotion, of inner oneness beyond perception, with the Divine.

This lightning decision, this inexplicable faith, conceals within itself the seeds of all that will in due course be revealed.

This is where the relationship begins and where its character is shaped.

The overt, external revelation occurs at a later stage.

But the inner, essential relationship is there from the very beginning, from the very first act of faith.

This is why the people of Israel were able to say, prior to the giving of Torah, "We shall do and we shall hearken" (Exodus 24:7), because their essential link with the Torah, albeit hidden, was there from the first.

–Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

From "A First Step" in On Being Free by Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

“Everything depends on how it is used”

Arthur Kurzweil — Fri, 11 May 2012 04:02:44 +0000

A Chasidic treatise on the day called Second Passover teaches us that nothing is ever lost.

Even if one did not perform the Passover Ritual Feast as prescribed, or if there was some spiritual deficiency in the doing, or whatever-there is always the chance for Tikun, fixing and making restitution.

One may spoil something, seemingly beyond repair-perhaps commit awful deeds or say unforgivable things-but nothing is ever really a Lost cause.

As has been described in Scripture, the children of Israel entered the Wilderness and stood before Mount Sinai on the first of the month, the time of the new moon, when the moon's light is so faint as to be almost nonexistent.

The symbolism is clear. This is the mere initiation of a process, the preparation for receiving the Torah, corresponding to the three days of inner restraint and renewal imposed on the people (at Mt. Sinai) in order to receive the Keter or Crown.

Preparation is here used in the sense of doing something to become an instrument or a receptive vessel.

The choice of Keter as the objective is based on its superiority to all the other Sefirot, and the fact that there is no possibility for hostile forces to enter there.

Every Sefirah has its own essence, which becomes the very factor that invites the opposite side.

Only something that has no sides, no defined character, can be free of this danger.

As has been explained about Abraham and Isaac, the chief attribute of each leaves room for failings and weaknesses, even unto a great fall.

Thus in contrast to the precise lists of Christian virtues and vices, the Jewish tradition does not define attributes as being one thing or another.

Even the attribute of Chesed, for example, which is the source of love, has to be adjudged as to whether it comes from the holy or the unholy.

The same thing is true of fear of God, Gevurah.

Everything depends on how it is used.

There is an old saying, attributed to Rabbi Simcha Bunim of Pshische, to the effect that a Jew should be good, God-fearing, and wise, but since a merely good man is liable to be lustful, a merely God-fearing man becomes a priest, and he who is only wise is open to heresy, a Jew has to be all of them together.

–Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

From In the Beginning by Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

“The caterpillar does not become a butterfly in a single act”

Arthur Kurzweil — Thu, 10 May 2012 04:02:59 +0000

The People of Israel, in accepting the Torah, did not receive it all at one time.

Rather, the process was a protracted one, from the early preparatory stage of the seven Noahide laws to the acceptance of additional mitzvot in Egypt, at Marah, and at Sinai, to the full revelation there that followed.

Similarly, a child raised to be an observant Jew takes upon itself the full yoke of the mitzvot only after long preparation: years of training and the gradual, step-by-step assumption of responsibility according to its intellectual readiness and practical capacity.

The essential point is that living beings do not undergo sudden, complete transformations.

The caterpillar does not become a butterfly in a single act but as a result of a gradual process.

–Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

From Teshuvah by Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

“No matter how sincerely one endeavors to rebel against the Divine, God is not in the least offended”

Arthur Kurzweil — Wed, 09 May 2012 04:02:09 +0000

The truth of the matter is that God gives, but does not receive.

He influences and is not influenced.

He acts but is not acted upon.

It is not a matter of the size or importance of anything, but rather of different worlds.

God does not belong to anything knowable, nor can He be said even to exist in terms of the ordinary realm of things.

For example: a person performs an act, good or bad.

It can only be done with the cooperation of the Divine, because of the Divine force in him and the action of the laws of nature.

Someone desecrates the Sabbath, let us say.

It is done as part of, and within the framework of, a cosmos maintained by Divine power in all its details.

All the laws continue to operate, unaffected by the person's breaking the Sabbath rule.

God is oblivious.

No matter how sincerely one endeavors to rebel against the Divine, God continues to give life and, altogether, is not in the least offended.

–Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

From The Sustaining Utterance by Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz: “They saw the audible and heard the visible”

Arthur Kurzweil — Tue, 08 May 2012 04:02:41 +0000

It is written of the Children of Israel at Sinai that all the people saw the sounds.

One may ask: How could it be that they saw the audible and heard the visible?

We are accustomed to distinct systems of reaction to stimuli, each sense having its own nervous apparatus and brain connections.

Is there not an organ of reception that does not bother about the receptor, a profoundly acute brain center where distinguishing and understanding take place?

Could this not be stimulated directly?

If so, it makes no difference what the channel of nerves or the nature of the reaction to a perception.

Sounds could be "seen" and sights could be "heard."

This is possible because the infinite Light is without limit or definition.

It cannot be put in any particular category.

It cannot be grasped except if it is contracted and "clothed" by something finite.

As the Maharal says in his discussions on the Rambam:

According to the (intellectual approach) of the Rambam one should perhaps speak of the Mind (HaSechel) as Blessed Be He, instead of the Infinite (Ein Sof), which has no possible definition, certainly none in terms of human knowledge and wisdom.

–Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

From In the Beginning by Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz