Lose That Hurry!
Words of Wisdom with Rabbi Efrat Zarren-Zohar
This week's Dvar Torah on Parashat Eikev is written by two wonderful rabbis who used to work at the Institute for Jewish Spirituality, where Rabbi Zarren-Zohar studies Jewish Meditation and Mindfulness.
Photo by José Matute on Unsplash
By Rabbi Lisa Goldstein
Years ago I was a group leader for the American Jewish World Service Alternative Spring Breaks.
I would accompany groups of college students to poor countries, mostly in Central America, to learn about global poverty and American Jewish responsibility.
There were very few rules about how we would observe Jewish traditions on those week-long visits, but one of them was that we would not work on Shabbat.
That was difficult for some students. We were there to work! To help out! The need was so great! How could we “waste a day” resting?
Sometimes these days when I teach about contemplative spiritual practice, I hear an echo of those students.
Isn't spiritual practice essentially self-care? And isn't self-care inherently self-indulgent? Why should we have the right to rest when there is so much to do in this world?
In my experience, spiritual resting can be the opposite of self-indulgent.
Resting can actually be a form of bittul, of the nullification of the hard-edged self to make room for Something more fluid and all-encompassing.
All stripes of spiritual traditions remind us of this important practice.
Parker Palmer teaches about the danger of "functional atheism," acting as if everything depends on us.
Yoga teachers often say that savasana, or final resting pose, is the most difficult posture; they don't always say that the Sanskrit word actually means "corpse pose" and that "letting go" means really letting go!
Resting as a spiritual practice is a way of exploring: Where don't I have control?
How can I feel safe even when I am not exerting my will or striving to change my world?
How can I cultivate a sense of trust that it isn't all up to me?
What happens to my sense of gratitude, my capacity to love and maybe even forgive, the demands of my ego?
If I put things down, even for a little while, who or what will pick them up?
And yes, resting does bring refreshment and ease and joy, which could be considered self-care.
But in the end, self-care is only indulgent if we see ourselves as cut off and apart from the rest of the world.
If we see ourselves as inherently connected, then the ease and joy we feel adds more ease and joy back into the world, especially as we know that when we are full, it is easier to flow towards others in blessing.
May this summer afford us all many opportunities to practice this kind of sacred rest!
By Rabbi Jonathan Slater
For many of us, the summer season offers opportunities to slow down, to find time for recreation and rest.
But often the impulse to do things differently, to make the most of vacation, leads to frenetic activity.
We drive fast or travel great distances in an attempt to squeeze in the most we can.
We plan multiple stops, important activities, sights to see and things to do.
And often we wind up more exhausted at the end of our vacation than when we began.
Of course, many of us are exhausted from the rhythm of life, whether work or retirement.
Time is money, and life is running on a clock. Let's not miss a minute!
We strive to accomplish as much as possible and often feel we've fallen behind despite our best efforts.
The Baal Shem Tov offers an antidote.
Reading the second paragraph of the Shem in this week's Parashat Eikev (Deut. 11:13-21), he pays attention to the warning against forgetting God's goodness and turning to other gods (vs. 17):
"For YHVH's anger will flare up against you, and He will shut up the skies so that there will be no rain and the ground will not yield its produce; and you will soon perish from the good land that YHVH is assigning to you".
Hidden in this verse is the phrase "you will soon perish," which in Hebrew is va-avad'tem meheirah (ואבדתם מהרה).
Literally, the verb va-avad'tem means "you will lose" and the adverb attached to it (meheirah) signifies "hurriedly".
On this the Baal Shem Tov teaches: "we must always seek a state of a settled mind, not rushing. This is the sense of the verse 'you will soon perish': you must lose the hurriedness."
That we not "soon perish" - if we wish truly to live and live fully - we have to learn to slow down, to lose the hurriedness.
There is a tradition that within the three paragraphs of the Shema are references to the Ten Commandments.
The phrase connected to the command "you shall not murder" is our phrase "you will soon perish."
In light of the Baal Shem Tov's teaching, our tendency to rush, to do everything quickly, to move without cease, is to commit murder. We are killing our souls, our bodies, our minds.
So, let's stop for a moment, and pay attention to Pablo Neruda, who echoes the Baal Shem Tov:
Keeping still / A callarse (Pablo Neruda, from Extravagaria, 1958) Translated by Dan Bellm
Now we will count to twelve
and let's keep quiet.
For once on earth
let's not talk in any language;
let's stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.
A moment like that would smell sweet,
no hurry, no engines,
all of us at the same time
in need of rest.
Fishermen in the cold sea
would stop harming whales
and the gatherer of salt
would look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and go for a walk with their brothers
out in the shade, doing nothing.
Just don't confuse what I want
with total inaction;
it's life and life only;
I'm not talking about death.
If we weren't so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving
and could maybe do nothing for once
a huge silence might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves,
of threatening ourselves with death;
perhaps the earth could teach us;
everything would seem dead
and later be alive.
Now I will count up to twelve
and you keep quiet
and I will go.
