Passions In Permanency
Passions In Permanency
Parshas Bamidbar: Making moments last
It is unlikely that anyone reading this is a master of ecstatic Kabbalah. Mystical visions and divine premonitions are currently in short supply. Still, I would venture we have all felt flashes of spiritual clarity, those moments when the light of a higher truth suddenly exposes our hopelessly impoverished modes of being. During such times we are electrified by a burning impulse to transform everything. We feel irresistible, inevitable, indestructible. Unrelentingly confident in accomplishing whatever we've set our hearts to. Our souls pulsate with possibility, unshackled from the constraints we once accepted as part of life.
But there's a problem. And we all know it. Whilst these flashes of spirituality are vivifying, it is hard to shake an underlying malaise. Anyone who's been around the block a few times has acquired the following insight. As quickly as inspiration strikes, it fades. Like a fleeting English summer, our newfound motivation abruptly vanishes from whence it came. And that's only if we are lucky. If we are unfortunate, we crash land like Icarus after flying too close to the sun.
In my admittedly modest experience, two standard options exist for contending with this reality. The first is by growing cynical; burnt too many times, we prefer to avoid spiritual excitement like the plague. Such cynicism often comes with age. When we are younger, we hit these exhilarating highs at an exhausting frequency. I still blush at some of the more fervent exchanges I engaged in at other people's Shabbos tables. I was an overzealous yeshiva bochur, convinced that the whole world had got it wrong. Yet at the same time, few of us aspire to be bland pragmatists. I may now sympathise with those rolling their eyes at my youthful bluster, but I am still not keen to join their ranks. Surely the flattening of spiritual peaks is too high a price for avoiding disappointment?
A second method for dealing with the sporadicity of religious illumination is to buy into the experience hook, line and sinker. Such an approach requires constant effort to preserve our original sense of epiphany. Now I am not entirely dismissive of this approach, only because I am acquainted with individuals who consistently crackle with unending religious fervour. Expecting such people to descend from their spiritual euphoria would be like asking Che Guevara to take an office job. I'll put my cards on the table; I'm insanely jealous of them. But for many of us, such an existence is unattainable. Furthermore, attempting to generate enduring passion may feel disingenuous. At worst, it can lead to burnout (what my yeshiva roommate once darkly labelled as the 'yeshivish machla'.)
There is, however, a middle path. And it runs through this week's Parsha. In his writings, Rav Kook identifies two archetypes, kedushas shaah and kedushas le doros. The later terminologies refer to 'time-bound holiness' and 'generational holiness', respectively, and exploring these themes will prove fruitful in our own search. Our Parsha opens with the verse:
“God spoke to Moses in the Sinai Desert in the Tabernacle Tent.”
{Bamidbar 1:1}
As Rav Kook points out, themes of the 'Sinai desert' and the 'Tabernacle tent' feature recurrently throughout Sefer Bamidbar. He explains their symbolic purpose as representing the unique time-bound holiness of the Jewish people's first generations.
This theme of kedushas shaah permeates our Parsha. In contrast to the Temple, a permanent structure, the Tabernacle was a temporary edifice. Furthermore, the special mitzvos God commanded the nomadic Israelites, including trumpet blasts, how to set up camp, and the order of the Tabernacle transportation, were only relevant to a specific time. They were entirely unlike the 613 mitzvos, which would remain in perpetuity for all future generations.
This dialogue between transient and enduring holiness also existed between Moshe and Aahron—the towering leaders of the desert generation. While Moshe acted as a priest during the Tabernacle’s consecration, it was a role of kedushas shaah, which only lasted one week. Aaron, meanwhile, established an extended priestly lineage which still survives today. He thus embodies the perspective of kedushas le doros.
Whilst the concepts of kedushas shaah and kedushas ledoros are played out here on a national historical scale, they are archetypes that can have significant resonance in our personal lives. And can be especially helpful when forming the correct attitude towards the 'spiritual high' phenomena.
The Baal Ha Tanya describes how most people lack souls capable of exceeding intermediate spiritual levels. However, he emphasises that we can feasibly taste absolute righteousness at the height of meditative prayer. While this is not a permanent state, he clearly regards it as a valuable accomplishment.
But what exactly is the point? In the drudgery of daily life, it is easy to lose expansiveness in our worldview. Especially as we age, we become more embedded in ossified routines, engaging in what A.J. Heschel labelled as 'religious behaviourism'. The purpose of a spiritual epiphany is not necessarily to offer us exact images of the people we could be or even the individuals we should be. But they are irrefutable reminders that there is more to life than 'just this'. There is always something beyond our current horizons.
In Yeshiva, I was privileged to engage with teachers who, for want of better words, inhabited an entirely different spiritual plane. I can't replicate the accomplishments and lifestyles of these remarkable individuals. Nevertheless, they opened my eyes to worlds of unrealised possibilities. I have developed a more profound understanding of what a human can become from a relatively short time in their presence. My horizons have infinitely expanded.
My mentor's influence on me is analogous to the glimpses of spiritual clarity we all encounter. By avoiding feeling pressured to live up 100% to these epiphanies, we can rid ourselves of cynicism which evolved from fear of failure. And if we experience them in their fullness, we can open up fresh vistas in our lives—perspectives we may not have noticed or taken seriously before. We need to harness these heightened encounters and infuse the drudgery of daily life with sparks of holiness. Let's grasp these moments of soaring religious passion and give them the relevance of permanency.
Good Shabbos, and Keep Pondering!