Saturday, July 28, 2012

Thoughts To Make You Think...

My beloved friend Reb Mordechai Yehoshua Joszef from his Deficit Of Attention blog:


VERTICAL REALITY (TISHA B'AV THOUGHTS)


There are many factors which contribute to the ultra-awkwardness of Tisha B'Av.

We can’t say “hello" to each other, so we pull a strange
head-bow/half-wink type of move. As if to say: your presence has been
registered by my consciousness, but I am unable to confirm it verbally
because I am supposed to be very sad.

Which brings us to the next awkward factor of Tisha B'Av, that being
the fact that we are not really as sad as we ritually portray
ourselves. We read hysterical requests for redemption and salvation --
some of us read them from our iPhones, others from the pamphlets
scattered in the back of shul -- most of us would consider ourselves
lucky if we catch one or two lines that touch us even remotely
personally, if any at all. Let's call a spade a spade: there is
distance. Motions without matching emotions. Hence, awkwardness.

Indeed, we are not very frantic about our current exile.
We have Shidduch Crisis and a Tuition Crisis and an Internet Crisis -
but an Exile Crisis? Not exactly on the radar. Because it's a very
different type of crisis.

Exile is an existential crisis. It reminds us of how insecure we truly
are despite our presumed peace and prosperity - whether in Babylon,
Brooklyn, or Boca Raton. Exile means we're not at home, even though we
feel at home. When I'm in Israel I feel like it's my home. But then I
go home. To America.

America has been a gracious host to our Tribe. We’ve nestled nicely in
her cozy suburbs, and we've done relatively well for ourselves
considering the mass genocide from which we barely escaped. We are
settled now. Comfortable. In a new land, with a kinder ideology and
sounder policies regarding the use of gas chambers on its own
citizens. We are safe, at last.

So it’s not that we’re against the concept of redemption. We just feel
like it already arrived. What more could we hope for?  Do we want a
temple? Better yet, do we need a temple? Would we benefit from it?
Would it have a Kosher Starbucks in the courtyard?

Perhaps the most awkward element of the Tisha B'Av experience is our
sense of powerlessness. It can feel like crying over spilled milk.
What’s done has been done. Let’s move on. What exactly are we supposed
to do about this situation? Do I look like I'm in any position to
rebuild a temple?

Interestingly, I am. We all are. Within our own minds.
Yes, that's right, mindful temple reconstruction. Sounds very abstract
and new-agey, I know.
But let’s see what the talmud has to say…
אמר ר' אלעזר כל אדם שיש בו דעה
כאילו נבנה בית המקדש בימיו
שזה ניתן בין שתי אותיות וזה ניתן בין שתי אותיות
[סנהדרין צב.]
Rebbe Elazar says:
Any person who has higher intelligence (דעה)
is as one who rebuilt the temple in his own days.
[Why so?] Because both [דעה (knowledge) + מקדש (temple)]
were written between two names [of God].
[Sanhedrin 92a]

Now, there are some obscurities to be reckoned with in this talmudic passage.

1] What does this higher intelligence called "דעה" have to do with
rebuilding the temple? The temple is generally associated with emotion
more than it is cognition. It is a place of עבודה, worship. There is
no library or classroom; it is an experiential service, not an
intellectual one. So what kind of consciousness does this sort of דעה
entail that it merits the reconstruction of a temple?

2] The only clue of a link that the talmud offers is the fact that
both דעה and מקדש are scripturally sandwiched between two different
names of God. In other words, both דעה and מקדש serve as bridges
between two separate realities. But what exactly are these bridges
serving to connect, and how exactly do they provide such a connection?

CONNECTING THE DOTS...

Both דעת and מקדש are interesting in that they each come in pairs,
with one heavenly copy hovering vertically above its earthly
counterpart. The intention of both is to elevate our focus from
horizontal thinking to vertical thinking.
Allow me to explain...

When the temple sits on earth, a higher temple mirrors it in heaven.
It is a vertical reflection, from below stretching upward. In fact,
everything about the temple was designed vertically. From the
elevation of sacrificial offerings, to the rising menorah flames. The
ramp, the steps - there was constant elevation. In a sense you can say
that the temple elevators were always going "up" and never descending.

Similarly, there are two layers of דעת. There is something called
higher intelligence (דעת עליון) and then there is lower intelligence
(דעת תחתון). I am not a Kabbalist by any stretch of the imagination,
so I will use these terms with caution. But on a most basic level,
"lower intelligence" refers to horizontal thinking. It is how we
perceive our surroundings and integrate with our environments. When
disconnected entirely from vertical contact, it can be called an "ego
state" that functions autonomously (ie. without directly including
God, or some "higher power" in its cognitive processing) and thereby
requires surroundings and social structures (horizontal figures) off
which to create an identity. This is presumably the source of those
ego states analyzed by Freud and his cohorts. Neurosis thrives in
horizontal consciousness.

But then there's a higher level of intelligence - דעת עליון - which
entails vertical thinking. It is when we acknowledge God as our
ultimate GPS satellite. This, in turn, elevates our horizontal
encounters and infuses them with higher purpose. We feel emotionally
and psychologically enriched by grander guidance (see Chovos
Halevavos, Shaar Habitachon for an extensive and enlightening
elaboration on how God attentively assists those who place their hope
in Him [and only in Him]).
Such is the benefit of "דעה."
It is more than knowledge, it is even more than wisdom.
It can be best described as divine intuition. A sense of deeper
guidance. Vertical thinking is found in those rare moments when we
invite God to help navigate our horizontal terrain, and feel secured
by His constant companionship. This is how we rebuild the temple,
because this was the entire function of a temple - to realign our
minds from horizontal consciousness to vertical consciousness. To a
place where life makes sense. That place has long since been vacated.
Exile is, by its very nature, a sort of jail sentence, locking us, not
in prison cells, but in horizontal consciousness.

God has many names, because we meet Him in many dimensions. Humans
tend to meet up with God on two opposite ends of the emotional
spectrum: during times of immense gratitude and, conversely, during
times of deep despair. Horizontal thinking is comparative, and so it
distinguishes between what appears to be different gods. We
compartmentalize our perception. We thank one, and blame the other. We
are beneficiaries of the first, and victims of the latter.
Consciousness in exile encounters constant conflict, as it is trapped
in the confines of horizontal perception. There is very little relief
for the horizontal thinker, because there is no uniformity. God is
confusing more than He is consoling. Religion seems more of a
contradiction than it does a constructive system. This is exile
consciousness, and it is very confusing, let alone spiritually
stressful.

Vertical thinking - דעת עליון - is when we bridge our different
encounters, unite them, and integrate them into a more holistic view
of the world, seeing the overall forest rather than getting lost in
the nitty gritty details of the horizontal trees. The more vertical
minded the psyche, the better perspective it has when engaged in
everyday, horizontal reality.

Nowadays we are rarely able (and rarely interested) to access this
system of intelligence, because we are so super sucked into the vacuum
of horizontal thinking. In my view, our pervasive and perpetual
attachment to social media are merely technological symptoms of this
psychological phenomenon wherein we get lost in the maze of horizontal
social enmeshment. As such, vertical thinking has never been so
endangered.

The tragedy of exile is a psychological one.
We are trapped in horizontal consciousness, and it is driving our
community mad. Spiritually mad, and clinically mad.
Judgement, jealousy, controversy, corruption, insecurity,
competitiveness, shame -- it's all a function of horizontal overload
with minimal access to vertical roots. Simply put, we have become too
busy for God. And so we have lost touch with our source of security,
our source of sanity.
Society has long since locked God out of its collective consciousness.
Since then, we have gradually become comfortably numb in our
horizontal habits of competition, judgment, and blame. It is a
difficult maze to escape. Because the mind that tries to escape is the
same mind that holds it captive.

Welcome to exile.
It's not always as comfortable on the inside as we make it look on the
outside. Enjoy your stay.