I had a dream the other night. I was walking to school in the pouring rain, becoming more and more drenched on what seemed to be a cold, gloomy day. The sky was pitch black, and thunder rumbled loudly. Looking for shelter, I came across a large, decapitated house that looked like it was about to be destroyed. It appeared as if something like a plague had inflicted it; mold and rot seemed to within its foundation. As I slowly began to approach the house, I suddenly was awoken by my alarm on my cell phone. I was in a deep sweat, my heart raced, my throat tightened, and my gut constricted.
They say that dreams can manifest themselves as unconscious messages that we wouldn’t recognize in our conscious lives. As I slowly began to start my day, I kept on trying to decode the hidden, mysterious message that my subconscious was trying to tell me. As I began to read this week’s parshah, Metzora, I began to wonder if my dream connected with the text. We learn that the same mysterious disease, tzara’at, found in humans, shares similar symptoms to that of a mold, blight, or rot that had been produced in the building stones of a house. We find in Leviticus 14:35 that when a homeowner reports these symptoms to the priest, he were to tell the priest, “Something like a plague has appeared upon my house.” It was clear that this week’s parsha resonated with my dream, yet the message remained unclear.
I asked myself, “Why would the homeowner report that only something like a plague had inflicted his house? Why wouldn’t the homeowner simply state that a plague – not something like it – had inflicted his house?”
Rashi notes that even if the homeowner was educated and certain that a plague indeed has infected his house, he may not report it to the priest with such certainty. Maimonides clarifies this concept by pointing out that the sudden emergence of this plague was not a natural phenomenon, but appeared as a warning sign to the Israelite people. The rabbis suggest that this warning sign is attributed to the fear of inviting evil into our lives by speaking of it. Modern scholars such as Rabbi Lawrence Kushner takes this a step forward and notes that when we give recognition to things that are “evil,” – such as anxiety or stress – it could potentially be harmful to ourselves and spread. In other words, Kushner suggests that when we are faced with these evils we must not give power to them.
Perhaps my dream, then, was a warning sign for something. I was still uncertain of what that warning sign was. As our parsha continues, we find that the priests are to quarantine the house for seven days, and if the mold remains, they will order either the walls to be removed or the entire structure destroyed. Sforno argues that the quarantine ordered by the priest is meant to prompt a person to reconsider one’s actions. In confronting one’s shortcomings, there is an opportunity for personal improvement. In this way, the affliction of tzara’at leads to a time of isolation and personal reflection. Nechama Lebowitz extends upon this idea and quotes the Talmud’s observation that “the house affected by tzara’at exists for the purposes of education.” In other words, the plague teaches us that we should take notices of the first sign of misconduct – whether it is to ourselves or to others – no matter small they are. Just like a disease begins with hardly noticeable symptoms and can be stopped if detected on time, so to we can prevent spiritual and emotional disease if immediate steps are taken.
Maybe my dream was not a warning sign at all, but a reminder for me to reflect and reexamine myself. Was this punishment because I had not updated my online blog in over a month, or because I studied for my Hebrew exam yet? We all often allow ourselves to be consumed by what sometimes are the things we love most. Our demanding schedules with that endless list of things to do on our desks, and that overwhelming feeling that there are not enough hours in the day to complete these tasks, often take control.
Contemporary teacher and writer on spirituality Eckhart Tolle suggests that our analytical mind, the false created self where our stress and anxiety is rooted, is called our Ego. Awareness of the difference between our selves and our Ego allow us to overcome the moments when our anxiety and stress takes hold. When we are under pressure we often forget to give ourselves a chance to take a breath. We sometimes allow our Ego, the thinking self, to amplify anxiety and stress until it becomes an unrelenting voice in our heads. That voice, however, has a weakness. It is dependant upon psychological time; our anxieties about the past and fears of the future. Despite what our Ego tells us, the present moment should not be fearful at all. The goal, then, is to live in the present moment, to live in what Tolle refers to as the Now. All of us have the ability to be in the present in our own lives, living moment by moment. We simply have to stop trying to live it, but simply be in it.
Jewish tradition recognizes that mindfulness, or living in the present moment, allows us to become our highest selves in the presence of God. Living in the present contains the seeds of all possibilities for our lives: freedom from suffering; true compassion for others; and a calm, spacious mind that welcomes change and personal growth. Nachman of Bratslav tells us:
Sit with the feeling of being alive; simply being present using body and breath as anchor. This means just to be present with what is, without DOING anything with any of it. Allowing it. Permitting it. So we sit, simply sit, in the present moment of being alive.
If we place more emphasis on the present moment, we can ask ourselves if the Ego’s need to control is fostering love or suffrage. Even when trying to stay in the present moment, the thinking mind can be overwhelming. Awareness of the Ego allows us to take charge of ourselves, even if it is only for a short period of time. While our Ego may continue with its incessant chatter, mindfulness of when it manifests itself allows us to have greater confidence in ourselves, recognize when we don’t like our Ego, or when we don’t like outcome that our Ego produces when it dominates us.
Rabbi Elie Munk notes that the last chapter of Metzora deals with a new series of cases of spiritual contamination. Contamination, according to Munk, is associated with sickness, but not when the sickness itself is caused by an excess of food, drink, fatigue, or impure fantasies. Once again, our rabbis comment that every sickness is a sign for us to pay attention. Finding the necessary balance between enjoying the things that we do and the stress that often comes with it is much like eating a great meal. We begin with such a great appetite for that meal and savor every bite. Once we have eaten that first course, we are so thirsty and gulp down our drinks quickly, only to find that we want more. And the end of the meal, we are stuffed and exhausted, trying to find room for desert. We fantasize about eating every morsel of that chocolate cake you know you shouldn’t eat, and we spend so much time attempting to justify why it is okay to eat it. Our craving to take upon a task only creates a greater desire to do more, and we sometimes forget when how much is too much. When we over work ourselves, we tend to become exhausted quickly. And despite all the warning signs that we need to take a break from everything, we try to justify why we can continue and are in fact harming ourselves because of these impure fantasies.
I had a dream the other night. I woke up in a deep sweat. My heart raced, my throat tightened, and my gut constricted. It appears that every time I reopen my eyes after sleeping, another week has quickly passed by. HUC student tradition has a saying that summarizes the Spring Semester in Israel, called the 3 P’s: “Purim. Pesach. Packing.” One down, two to go. It’s hard to believe that my Year in Israel has narrowed down to two short months. It’s going to definitely be strange next year going from a class of 52 to 9. I have so much to do before I begin my second year of rabbinical school – prepare for my student pulpit, buy a car, find an apartment, decide about insurance, make a new budget, the list seems to go on. Oops, there goes the Ego again! I know, I’ll take a step back and focus on the Now. I’m going to soak in the smell of Shabbat, and embrace every moment I have on my journey toward becoming a Rabbi. Yesterday is history, Tomorrow is a mystery, and Today is a gift; that’s why they call it… The Present.
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