The account of Jacob’s ladder in
this week’s parashah has much to teach us about our own lives.
Jacob left Beersheba
and set out for Haran. He came upon a certain place and stopped there for the
night, for the sun had set. Taking one of the stones of that place, he put it
under his head and lay down in that place. He had a dream; a stairway was set
on the ground and its top reached to the sky, and angels of God were going up
and down on it. And Adonai was standing beside him, and God said, “I am Adonai,
the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac. The ground on which you
are lying I will give to you and to your offspring. Your descendants shall be
as the dust of the earth; you shall spread out to the west and to the east, to
the north and to the south. All the families of the earth shall bless
themselves by you and your descendants. Remember, I am with you: I will protect
you wherever you go and will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you
until I have done what I have promised you.” Jacob awoke from his sleep and
said, “Surely Adonai is present in this place, and I did not know it!” (Genesis 28:10–16)
Jacob's
Ladder by William Blake (British Museum,
London)
Jacob is on the lam. He cheated his
brother, deceived his father, and stole the patriarchal blessing. He has every
reason to think Esau will come after him to kill him. He is fragile and
vulnerable. His life, recently so privileged and cushy, now lacks all luxuries.
His security, recently so assured, is now up in the air. Jacob ventures into a
new land, a new family, a new culture. Jacob has reached the outer borders of
his life and is about to cross that boundary into… who knows where? Va’yifga ba-makom (“he came to a certain place”) — a nowhere
place without a name. Ki va ha-shemesh (“the
sun is setting”) — it’s neither day nor night. Jacob lies down and dreams a
dream so vivid it’s not clear whether he is conscious or unconscious. Jacob is
in limbo: physically, temporally, and spiritually betwixt and between.
Jacob awakes to a revelation: Achein
yesh Adonai ba-makom ha-zeh v’anochi lo yadati (“Surely Adonai is present
in this place, and I did not know it!”) Jacob’s
neshamah (his soul, or inner self) has
finally been awakened.
I want to share a Hasidic
interpretation of Jacob’s spiritual awakening. At the very moment that Jacob becomes aware of
God’s presence (“Surely Adonai is in this place”) he comes to the realization
that v’anochi lo yadati, which can be
translated, “I did not know me/myself.” Only when Jacob sheds his considerable ego,
jettisoning his anger, fear, deceit, self-justification, sense of entitlement, is
there room for God’s presence “in this place.” To make room for God we need to
surrender our self-centeredness and open ourselves up — truly open ourselves up
— to God. Our narrow concerns crowd God from view.
This interpretation comes from the
world of Hasidut, which is richly informed by Kabbalah (Jewish mystical
tradition). While I am not a mystic, I believe there is much wisdom to be
gleaned in the way mystics view the world and think about God and humanity. This
interpretation teaches me three important things:
First, the God inside me is the God
inside you, the God inside Jacob, the God that is not only in “this place” (as
Jacob said) but is the place of the
universe. The Rabbis, in midrash Bereishit
Rabbah 68:9 express it this way: “God is the dwelling place of
the world, but the world is not God’s dwelling place.” God is in everything and also
beyond it. This is a God-saturated world. By way of analogy, consider radio
waves, the electromagnetic part of the light spectrum. Vibrating radio waves
travel at the speed of light. They’re everywhere, surrounding and even
penetrating you. But they can be only be detected and decoded with a radio
receiver that is tuned to the right frequency. In a similar way, God is within
and around us all the time, but we have to set our receivers to become aware,
tuned in. You are a natural receiver if you tune in. So what we need to do is
stop. Clear our minds. Tune our spiritual receivers. It begins with
mindfulness. This is what prayer and Torah study are about.
The second thing this interpretation
teaches follows from the first: God is not up there, out there, far away and
distant, separate from the universe I know and inhabit. (That’s the picture of
God presented me as a child, but it’s not the reality I live.) I cannot find
God “out there.” I can only find God through conventional prayers, sacred
texts, and religious practices when I use those prayers, texts, and practices
to face myself, to know myself, and to remake myself; then I can explore what
it means to be fully human, find my purpose in life, and learn how to be God’s
image in the world. That’s what Jacob is finally doing. In this God-saturated
universe, Jacob is tuning his receiver to God and facing his true self.
The third thing I learn from the
interpretation is about how the world works. Rather than expecting that a God
“out there” will intervene in the world on my behalf, I need to focus on the God
within — deep within. That means that God works in the world not by big splashy
miracles, but through me, and you, and everyone else. And since that’s how God
works in the world, it must be the case that I — just like Jacob, just like you
— have everything I need within me to become what I should be become. The
solutions aren’t “out there” and I can’t blame “them” (parents, teachers,
economy, politics) when I don’t realize my potential. I must dig deep within.
That’s where change and transformation are born and blossom.
As it turns out, in a sense all of
us are always in limbo — always
betwixt what we are, and between what we might yet be. We are always changing,
becoming. And given that, as the Greek philosopher Heraclitus said, change is
the one constant of the universe, we do well to consciously and purposefully embrace
and manage our personal evolution.
Okay, let’s hear it again: A Zen master visiting New York City goes up to a
hot dog vendor and says, "Make me one with everything." The hot dog
vendor fixes a hot dog and hands it to the Zen master, who pays with a $20
bill. The vendor puts the bill in the cash box and closes it. "Excuse me,
but where is my change?" asks the Zen master. The vendor replies,
"Change must come from within."
Jacob is our model. He dives within
to find himself and thereby find God. He is not wholly transformed overnight — concrete
change takes more than two decades — but Jacob is continuously evolving, always
becoming. Like Jacob, we too can dive within
and there find God, our true selves, and our divine potential.
© Rabbi
Amy Scheinerman
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