At a time when the world economy is slowing and threats against Israel's security are growing, I believe we as Jews should do anything we can to support our spiritual homeland. We can, of course, donate to Israeli charity and Jewish causes, but a direct and possibly more beneficial way is to contribute to the Israeli economy with our purchases. We should Buy Israel!
I've recently added a link to this site with a large variety of Israeli products and Judaica...everything from kippahs (yamulkes) to Dead Sea cosmetics to Shabbat/Jewish Holiday items and more. I encourage you to check it out. It's full of items of interest to Jews of all types.
By making purchases, you can also help me to support this blog and make it grow. With your support, we can continue to discuss our Judaism and find the same inspiration as the followers of Abraham and the Israelites that stood at the foot of Mt. Sinai.
I hope the discussions we have here on Jews Muse are something you consider worthy of your financial assistance and support. If so, please check out the Buy Israel link found on the sidebar.
Thanks in advance for your support.
Until next time....
Shmuel
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Moses and Buddha
We've discussed previously, the possible connections between the Abraham and India. Evidence is growing stronger every day that there was some kind of historic connection, or influence between the followers of Judaism and those of Indian philosophy. Nowhere is this more apparent than between the stories of Moses and Buddha. Let's take a look at some of the similarities.
Siddhartha Gautama (the historic Buddha) was born into an aristocratic family in what is now Nepal and was destined for a life of privelege. Like him, Moses was also born into royalty in Egypt and also destined for a life of ease and privilege.
In an effort to prevent the fruition of a prophecy that his son would become a spiritual ascetic and renounce his family and societal standing, Siddhartha's father kept him sheltered from the outside world and its suffering. Moses was also sheltered from the oppression and hardship experienced by his people under slavery as a prince of Egypt and the concealment of his true heritage.
Siddhartha makes four trips to the outside world where he learns about suffering and death. Moses flees his privileged life after killing an Egyptian taskmaster for beating a slave. He witnesses the suffering of the Hebrews firsthand and learns of his true identity.
Siddhartha eventually leaves his aristocratic life behind in a quest to find an end to suffering and death through spiritual practice. Moses also leaves his life as a member of Egyptian royalty behind and enters the sands of the desert where he finds peace and enlightenment.
Siddharths finds enlightenment while sitting beneath the Bodhi Tree and Moses at the Burning Bush. Is it possible that both stories tie back to a common "Tree of Life" tradition and a shared paradise homeland (the Biblical Eden and original Aryan homeland)?
As the Buddha, Siddhartha tries to end suffering by teaching the elimination of desire as the path to ceasing the renewed cycles of birth and existence. Judaism shares a tradition of reincarnation called Gilgulim. Moses taught that liberation from human suffering came through the respect for individual rights and human dignity. He also taught justice and a set of practices designed to raise the former Israelite slaves to become a "nation of priests." Both men rebelled against the established priesthood and taught that individual spiritual growth was attainable and desirable.
A few other historic points deserve mention.
Abraham also left a life of privilege and aristocracy behind seeking spiritual wisdom as the first wandering Hebrew. The texts of the ancient Egyptians and Mesopatamians refer to the "Habiru/Hebrews" as a class of people who left settled city life behind to wander as prophets, nomads and mercenaries. I think of them as the first hippies. In India, it was the aristocratic Kshatriyas who left their societal life behind for a life of meditation and seclusion in the countryside. Is ther a common spiritual/cultural connection?
I'd also point out that the land of Ophir where King Solomon sent ships on a three year voyage is considered by many to have been in India. Is this another historic connection between the Hebrews and India?
All of this raises some questions....
Is Siddhartha/Buddha the reincarnated Moses? He speaks of past lives that lead to his attainment of Buddhahood.
Can the ancient Israelites/Hebrews be considered the world's first Buddhists with a similar spiritual tradition? Both Judaism and Buddhism teach that divinity and enlightenment is found in the heart of every individual, if we just still our minds and listen. This is the core of the Jewish Shabbat practice!
So why does it matter?
First of all, it points to common spiritual truths shared by many traditions.
It also provides a context for Jewish practice and belief at a time when many Jews are seeking a spiritual renewal in their faith. This is not unlike the thoughts of Rabbi Abraham Maimonides and other medieval Jewish mystics who shared and saw the practices of Sufi mystics as a rediscovery of the prophetic practices and traditions of Biblical Judaism.
It helps JuBu's (Buddhist practicioners of Jewish heritage) to understand that their beliefs are not foreign to the faith of their fathers and may actually be at the core of their religion.
It is another step towards the enlightenment of the world towards a time when all men will prophecize, as spoken about in Jewish tradition.
It also helps to explain the similarities in the teachings of Buddha and Jesus, if they both come from a common spiritual heritage.
None of this is likely to ever be proven beyond any doubt, but if it helps to deepen faith and spiritual understanding then the world is a better and more enlightened place. I throw it out there for consideration and discussion.
Until next time....
Shmuel
Siddhartha Gautama (the historic Buddha) was born into an aristocratic family in what is now Nepal and was destined for a life of privelege. Like him, Moses was also born into royalty in Egypt and also destined for a life of ease and privilege.
In an effort to prevent the fruition of a prophecy that his son would become a spiritual ascetic and renounce his family and societal standing, Siddhartha's father kept him sheltered from the outside world and its suffering. Moses was also sheltered from the oppression and hardship experienced by his people under slavery as a prince of Egypt and the concealment of his true heritage.
Siddhartha makes four trips to the outside world where he learns about suffering and death. Moses flees his privileged life after killing an Egyptian taskmaster for beating a slave. He witnesses the suffering of the Hebrews firsthand and learns of his true identity.
Siddhartha eventually leaves his aristocratic life behind in a quest to find an end to suffering and death through spiritual practice. Moses also leaves his life as a member of Egyptian royalty behind and enters the sands of the desert where he finds peace and enlightenment.
Siddharths finds enlightenment while sitting beneath the Bodhi Tree and Moses at the Burning Bush. Is it possible that both stories tie back to a common "Tree of Life" tradition and a shared paradise homeland (the Biblical Eden and original Aryan homeland)?
As the Buddha, Siddhartha tries to end suffering by teaching the elimination of desire as the path to ceasing the renewed cycles of birth and existence. Judaism shares a tradition of reincarnation called Gilgulim. Moses taught that liberation from human suffering came through the respect for individual rights and human dignity. He also taught justice and a set of practices designed to raise the former Israelite slaves to become a "nation of priests." Both men rebelled against the established priesthood and taught that individual spiritual growth was attainable and desirable.
A few other historic points deserve mention.
Abraham also left a life of privilege and aristocracy behind seeking spiritual wisdom as the first wandering Hebrew. The texts of the ancient Egyptians and Mesopatamians refer to the "Habiru/Hebrews" as a class of people who left settled city life behind to wander as prophets, nomads and mercenaries. I think of them as the first hippies. In India, it was the aristocratic Kshatriyas who left their societal life behind for a life of meditation and seclusion in the countryside. Is ther a common spiritual/cultural connection?
I'd also point out that the land of Ophir where King Solomon sent ships on a three year voyage is considered by many to have been in India. Is this another historic connection between the Hebrews and India?
All of this raises some questions....
Is Siddhartha/Buddha the reincarnated Moses? He speaks of past lives that lead to his attainment of Buddhahood.
Can the ancient Israelites/Hebrews be considered the world's first Buddhists with a similar spiritual tradition? Both Judaism and Buddhism teach that divinity and enlightenment is found in the heart of every individual, if we just still our minds and listen. This is the core of the Jewish Shabbat practice!
So why does it matter?
First of all, it points to common spiritual truths shared by many traditions.
It also provides a context for Jewish practice and belief at a time when many Jews are seeking a spiritual renewal in their faith. This is not unlike the thoughts of Rabbi Abraham Maimonides and other medieval Jewish mystics who shared and saw the practices of Sufi mystics as a rediscovery of the prophetic practices and traditions of Biblical Judaism.
It helps JuBu's (Buddhist practicioners of Jewish heritage) to understand that their beliefs are not foreign to the faith of their fathers and may actually be at the core of their religion.
It is another step towards the enlightenment of the world towards a time when all men will prophecize, as spoken about in Jewish tradition.
It also helps to explain the similarities in the teachings of Buddha and Jesus, if they both come from a common spiritual heritage.
None of this is likely to ever be proven beyond any doubt, but if it helps to deepen faith and spiritual understanding then the world is a better and more enlightened place. I throw it out there for consideration and discussion.
Until next time....
Shmuel
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
A Meditation On Challah
A fabrengen is the Hasidic form of storytelling designed to bring a group of people into a state of spiritual passion and deepened understanding of spiritual practice. Here I will paraphrase a tale told by Rabbi Goldie Milgram with musical accompaniment by Cantor Sol Zim of Temple Beth Zion in Brooklyn, New York.
There was once a young rabbi known for his ability to decipher the most complex and puzzling aspects of Torah. He agrees to marry the daughter of the wealthiest family in town. As is custom, her father agrees to buy them a home and pay for all of their expenses, so he can continue his scholarly work and they'll want for nothing.
But then the family's fortune changes and the rabbi is told that he'll have to seek out a congregation that needs a rabbi, as his wife's father can no longer support them.
"Oy!" moans the rabbi, for he knows that the overwhelming duties of a pulpit rabbi will interfere with his studies.
He sends out inquiries and a small rural community, Yenemsvelt (Yiddish for "the middle of nowhere"), comes back with the best offer. But the offer comes with limitations. Besides the rabbi's living expenses, there is no other available funds for the small synagogue. There's not even money for the challah bread for the oneg (gathering and reception following Shabbat services). So, the rabbi informs his wife that she'll have to make the challah herself.
The rabbi works hard at that first service, muttering through the prayers and presenting a very scholarly sermon. So when he sees the burnt and tattered challah loaves his wife has made, his heart drops. But the community doesn't seem to mind. A festive evening with a special happiness emerges.
Oneg means "delight." Its Hebrew letters are actually the reverse of nega, which means "plague." The Friday night Shabbat services are a mystical wedding between the community (as the bride) and God (the groom) who provides spiritual rest and nourishment. Thus, they are relieved from the plagues of the week and opened up to the blessings of Shabbat.
Word spreads and attendence at the little synagogue grows. Soon, the rabbi tells his wife that they have the funds to once again buy their challah from the local bakery. That next oneg, he gazes upon two beautiful challahs. He's so overjoyed, that he fails to notice the lack of spontaneity and spirit among his congregation.
Believing he's on the right track, he works harder on his sermon. But attendence and discontent grow. Members start murmering and taking bets on how far into the sermon the rabbi will get, before his retired predecessor (who always sits in the second row) will fall asleep.
Attendence continues to decline and soon the rabbi informs his wife that she must once again bake the challah for Shabbat oneg. That next week, there lie the two burnt and bedraggled challah loaves. But the rabbi notices a return of life among his congregants. People look to one another as if to say "ah yes, this is why we come."
That next Friday, the rabbi sets aside his sermon writing to observe his wife's making of the challah. "Today, you are the rabbi. Show me how you make the challah."
"What's there so show?" she questions. "A little flour, some water and yeast and much patience during the rising."
"Show me," he insists.
"Well, dear, you've missed the first portion of challah making. The dough is almost finished rising. Now, one takes it and begins to raise the sparks of energy which give the challah its life. Here I transform this plague of a week from nega to oneg, delight."
She gives the mound a good punch, releasing all of the air from the risen dough.
"This pounding is for the hard time the congregation president gave you about the length of your sermon...And this is for having to sell your favorite study table to buy clothes for the kids, who are growing so fast...This is for how much I miss home....
She pounds the dough a few more times, expressing disappointment with each one.
"And this is a prayer for all these disappointments that they might be transformed into challah and do the world a little good."
For the first time, the rabbi holds his wife as she cries. He feels his own tears and frustrations rising and lets them go also.
His wife continues.
"Now we must create three strands each, two sets, one for each challah."
She hands him some of the dough.
"These are the strands of my Shabbat meditation. As you shape the first strand, bring to mind everyone in the congregation who needs some guidance. Pray for them to see the resources all around them, for all possible blessings to become visible to them and that they receive what they need."
They each complete their first strand.
"Now, for the second strand," she continues. "As you form it, reflect on all who need healing and send a prayer to the Holy One to notice their need and ease their suffering."
For the first time since moving there, the young rabbi cries for his congregants.
"Silly husband," she says. "Look, you are getting tears in the challah! No matter, a few tears will add to its holiness."
She then divides the last bit of dough with him.
"This last strand is a meditation on gratitude," she explains. "This is where I recall with much thankfulness the many blessings that have come to our congregants this week and how fortunate I am to have you as my beloved husband and life partner. I pray that every single person in our congregation will find the type of love that we have."
"What do we do now?" asks the rabbi.
"We braid the strands, bringing our community together in blessing. Gently cover the loaves and let them rise. Now, go back to your writing, while I dress the children."
Instead, the rabbi takes his wife's hand and pulls her closer to him, humming Lecha Dodi ("Come My Beloved...").
We discussed before how Judaism teaches how to find the sacred in ordinary moments. This little tale, I believe, illustrates this point well. By her attention and care in making the challah, the rabbi's wife was able to uplift their congregation as well. Let's all seek the extraordinary to be found in the mundane moments of daily life.
Until next time....
Shmuel
There was once a young rabbi known for his ability to decipher the most complex and puzzling aspects of Torah. He agrees to marry the daughter of the wealthiest family in town. As is custom, her father agrees to buy them a home and pay for all of their expenses, so he can continue his scholarly work and they'll want for nothing.
But then the family's fortune changes and the rabbi is told that he'll have to seek out a congregation that needs a rabbi, as his wife's father can no longer support them.
"Oy!" moans the rabbi, for he knows that the overwhelming duties of a pulpit rabbi will interfere with his studies.
He sends out inquiries and a small rural community, Yenemsvelt (Yiddish for "the middle of nowhere"), comes back with the best offer. But the offer comes with limitations. Besides the rabbi's living expenses, there is no other available funds for the small synagogue. There's not even money for the challah bread for the oneg (gathering and reception following Shabbat services). So, the rabbi informs his wife that she'll have to make the challah herself.
The rabbi works hard at that first service, muttering through the prayers and presenting a very scholarly sermon. So when he sees the burnt and tattered challah loaves his wife has made, his heart drops. But the community doesn't seem to mind. A festive evening with a special happiness emerges.
Oneg means "delight." Its Hebrew letters are actually the reverse of nega, which means "plague." The Friday night Shabbat services are a mystical wedding between the community (as the bride) and God (the groom) who provides spiritual rest and nourishment. Thus, they are relieved from the plagues of the week and opened up to the blessings of Shabbat.
Word spreads and attendence at the little synagogue grows. Soon, the rabbi tells his wife that they have the funds to once again buy their challah from the local bakery. That next oneg, he gazes upon two beautiful challahs. He's so overjoyed, that he fails to notice the lack of spontaneity and spirit among his congregation.
Believing he's on the right track, he works harder on his sermon. But attendence and discontent grow. Members start murmering and taking bets on how far into the sermon the rabbi will get, before his retired predecessor (who always sits in the second row) will fall asleep.
Attendence continues to decline and soon the rabbi informs his wife that she must once again bake the challah for Shabbat oneg. That next week, there lie the two burnt and bedraggled challah loaves. But the rabbi notices a return of life among his congregants. People look to one another as if to say "ah yes, this is why we come."
That next Friday, the rabbi sets aside his sermon writing to observe his wife's making of the challah. "Today, you are the rabbi. Show me how you make the challah."
"What's there so show?" she questions. "A little flour, some water and yeast and much patience during the rising."
"Show me," he insists.
"Well, dear, you've missed the first portion of challah making. The dough is almost finished rising. Now, one takes it and begins to raise the sparks of energy which give the challah its life. Here I transform this plague of a week from nega to oneg, delight."
She gives the mound a good punch, releasing all of the air from the risen dough.
"This pounding is for the hard time the congregation president gave you about the length of your sermon...And this is for having to sell your favorite study table to buy clothes for the kids, who are growing so fast...This is for how much I miss home....
She pounds the dough a few more times, expressing disappointment with each one.
"And this is a prayer for all these disappointments that they might be transformed into challah and do the world a little good."
For the first time, the rabbi holds his wife as she cries. He feels his own tears and frustrations rising and lets them go also.
His wife continues.
"Now we must create three strands each, two sets, one for each challah."
She hands him some of the dough.
"These are the strands of my Shabbat meditation. As you shape the first strand, bring to mind everyone in the congregation who needs some guidance. Pray for them to see the resources all around them, for all possible blessings to become visible to them and that they receive what they need."
They each complete their first strand.
"Now, for the second strand," she continues. "As you form it, reflect on all who need healing and send a prayer to the Holy One to notice their need and ease their suffering."
For the first time since moving there, the young rabbi cries for his congregants.
"Silly husband," she says. "Look, you are getting tears in the challah! No matter, a few tears will add to its holiness."
She then divides the last bit of dough with him.
"This last strand is a meditation on gratitude," she explains. "This is where I recall with much thankfulness the many blessings that have come to our congregants this week and how fortunate I am to have you as my beloved husband and life partner. I pray that every single person in our congregation will find the type of love that we have."
"What do we do now?" asks the rabbi.
"We braid the strands, bringing our community together in blessing. Gently cover the loaves and let them rise. Now, go back to your writing, while I dress the children."
Instead, the rabbi takes his wife's hand and pulls her closer to him, humming Lecha Dodi ("Come My Beloved...").
We discussed before how Judaism teaches how to find the sacred in ordinary moments. This little tale, I believe, illustrates this point well. By her attention and care in making the challah, the rabbi's wife was able to uplift their congregation as well. Let's all seek the extraordinary to be found in the mundane moments of daily life.
Until next time....
Shmuel
Friday, August 7, 2009
Judaism's Flawed Characters
I recently had a discussion with a friend of mine, who was studying the story of King David to share with students of the Sunday school class he taught at his church. He was amazed at how flawed a character King David was to be such a celebrated hero of the Bible and the Jewish people. It got me to thinking just how different the perspective of Christians and Jews can be in viewing the same story. Because of our differing backgrounds, we can learn different lessons from the tales of the Bible.
Jews have historically presented their heroes and leaders as full human beings complete with their individual flaws. King David was far from perfect, as was Moses, Jacob and others. This is a unique phenomena among the cultures of the world. Most other cultures present their heroes in mythological terms, emphasizing the good aspects while downplaying the bad. Jews, on the other hand, see their sages and leaders as human beings who struggled in both their faith and personal lives. With their monotheistic core, Jewish heroes were never seen as semi-divine. Rather, by studying their flaws and struggle, we could learn how to improve ourselves and our world by learning from their mistakes. Personal responsibility and personal growth are other key components of living a Jewish life.
Christianity, by comparison, begins with the premise that Jesus is divine and that humans are born with Original Sin and incapable of personal redemption without divine intervention. The focus is on faith rather than deed. You can be "saved" with just simple faith in Jesus as your messiah and redeemer. But your personal actions alone are not enough. This difference with Judaism is primarily due to the diverging paths our two faiths have taken historically. This is a discussion that will have to wait for another time.
So when my Christian friend looks at how we glorify King David, he doesn't understand. How is it possible that he can be the ancestor of our future messiah? Jews realize that David, like all of us, struggled with his faith throughout his life. Many of his actions were unsavory. But we can learn from his mistakes. It underscores our belief that the only perfect being is God. Even our messiah is human and will come from an impure heritage. It is also a tribute to our belief in the equality of all human beings. There is no priesthood, or aristocracy in Judaism that is somehow closer to the Divine than the rest of us.
To me, the fact that our sages and heroes are revealed in their entirety complete with their flaws is something that adds credibility to the tales we tell about ourselves. We leave nothing out and it is up to each individual to learn what they can from them. We also study and learn the historical context of the stories themselves.
We should take pride in our brutal honesty about our heritage and find personal inspiration in the stories we tell about ourselves.
Until next time....
Shmuel
Jews have historically presented their heroes and leaders as full human beings complete with their individual flaws. King David was far from perfect, as was Moses, Jacob and others. This is a unique phenomena among the cultures of the world. Most other cultures present their heroes in mythological terms, emphasizing the good aspects while downplaying the bad. Jews, on the other hand, see their sages and leaders as human beings who struggled in both their faith and personal lives. With their monotheistic core, Jewish heroes were never seen as semi-divine. Rather, by studying their flaws and struggle, we could learn how to improve ourselves and our world by learning from their mistakes. Personal responsibility and personal growth are other key components of living a Jewish life.
Christianity, by comparison, begins with the premise that Jesus is divine and that humans are born with Original Sin and incapable of personal redemption without divine intervention. The focus is on faith rather than deed. You can be "saved" with just simple faith in Jesus as your messiah and redeemer. But your personal actions alone are not enough. This difference with Judaism is primarily due to the diverging paths our two faiths have taken historically. This is a discussion that will have to wait for another time.
So when my Christian friend looks at how we glorify King David, he doesn't understand. How is it possible that he can be the ancestor of our future messiah? Jews realize that David, like all of us, struggled with his faith throughout his life. Many of his actions were unsavory. But we can learn from his mistakes. It underscores our belief that the only perfect being is God. Even our messiah is human and will come from an impure heritage. It is also a tribute to our belief in the equality of all human beings. There is no priesthood, or aristocracy in Judaism that is somehow closer to the Divine than the rest of us.
To me, the fact that our sages and heroes are revealed in their entirety complete with their flaws is something that adds credibility to the tales we tell about ourselves. We leave nothing out and it is up to each individual to learn what they can from them. We also study and learn the historical context of the stories themselves.
We should take pride in our brutal honesty about our heritage and find personal inspiration in the stories we tell about ourselves.
Until next time....
Shmuel
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