Filling Words with Light: Hasidic and Mystical Reflections on Jewish Prayer.
Rabbi Lawrence Kushner and Nehemia Polen, Jewish Lights Publishing, Vermont
reviewed by Allan Gould
For any Jew or people interested in Judaism, whether extremely knowledgeable, or still tripping over the Hebrew and trying to make sense of those seemingly-obscure prayers which continue to be read in Jewish homes and synagogues around the world, FILLING WORDS WITH LIGHT is a godsend
Ahh, Hebrew. I have a good friend who used to tell me that it drove him nuts with envy to walk the streets of Jerusalem and hear young children rattle off in perfect Hebrew, while he, then in his 40s, was still struggling with the language. One could, rather, rejoice in the rebirth of the Holy Tongue in the modern State of Israel, when it had been nearly at the level of other "dead languages" like Latin, just a century ago.
But his point was well taken, even if in jest: the Hebrew language is tough, unless you are Israeli or FFB ("Frum From Birth"—i.e., born into a religious, scholarly Jewish home), and it's even harder if you come to it haphazardly, as I did, growing up in a wishy-washy Jewish home in Detroit in the 1950s. It was like a secret tongue to me, in Hebrew School; even more mysterious than the Yiddish which my parents would speak to keep me and my older brother from understanding what they were talking about.
Hebrew prayer can be just as perplexing and even agonizing, unless—like a child born in the modern Israel or raised in a traditional home—you've heard it from birth. What's all this talk about angels, in our strongly monotheistic faith? What's this repentance stuff about; it sounds like a Protestant minister shouting for his parishioners to clean up their act! Why all the calls for healing, when I'm in perfectly good health? Indeed, why must I read and sing all these difficult prayers which seem to not relate to me at all, in a strange language and an only partially-known-and-understood tradition? Boy, it's tough enough to be a Jew in a non-Jewish world. But
to be a semi-literate Jew in one's own, Jewish world (even worse, in one's own synagogue, yet!), seems to make you a double-outsider. It ain't fair.
I begin with these thoughts, after having read, several times, a thin (154 pages, too many of them half-empty), pricey ($21.99 U.S., making it probably at least $28 in Canada), yet deeply moving and powerful new book written by two American rabbis/professors—both scholars of mysticism and Hasidism—and published by the always-reliable Jewish Lights Publishing of Woodstock, Vermont (of all places!): Filling Words with Light: Hasidic and Mystical Reflections on Jewish Prayer.
This is such an inspired idea: to look at a single line or two in seven areas of daily or weekly Jewish prayer ("The Blessings of Morning"; "Verses of Song/Pesukei D'zimrah"; "The Shema and Its Blessings"; "The Standing Prayer/Amidah"; "The Reading of the Torah"; "Supplication and Obligation"; and "The Sabbath"), and attempt to delve into them, so that these often obscure, often confusing, often troublesome prayers become more meaningful to us. (And I sense this book would be invaluable to an Orthodox Jew as well, who might well pray three times a day, but has never delved into mystical aspects of the words that they have known since their childhoods.)
In their (alas, also too-brief) three-page introduction, Rabbis Lawrence Kushner and Nehemia Polen lay out their purpose, quoting the modest, gentle founder of modern Hasidism, the great Baal Shem Tov, who noted in one of his books in the early 18th century that there is a play on words in God's instructions to Noah about how to build his ark, before the Great Flood: "You shall make a skylight for the ark. . . ." The religious leader pointed out that the Hebrew word for ark, teivah, can also mean "word," and that the Hebrew word for window, tsohar, can also mean "to shine." The point? ". . .that every word in prayer a person utters should radiate light. It should have a skylight."
The authors go on to point out that later, Noah is told by God that "you and all your household shall enter the ark"—or, with this new understanding of the pun, they shall enter the "word." This means, wrote the Baal Shem Tov, that "you must put your whole body and soul into the words of your prayer."
Ahh, but this is easier said than done. Which is precisely why this lovely little book is so invaluable, especially to people with relatively weak Jewish studies backgrounds like myself: ". . .it is an anthology of reflections— meditations and interpretations on Jewish liturgy that we have found to be insightful, surprising, and wise."
You'll find them "insightful, surprising, and wise" as well, although, understandably, not every of these mini-studies of various key lines from the Hebrew prayer book will grab you, twist your soul, or make all the prayers you make in the future "radiate light."
Some of the prayers, as well as the rabbis' insights, may shock you. For instance, in the morning service, every Jew prays (both the Hebrew and English are included), "And You [God] have created in the human body many openings and ducts." Most people, both Jewish and Gentile, may find this line rather prosaic, if not uncomely, and even vulgar: here you are, praying with many others in a synagogue or Temple, and you thank the Eternal for the ability to go to the bathroom? Isn't that a "given"?
Not to traditional Judaism. The authors quote a well-known Hasidic manual which was attributed to the Baal Shem Tov, which lays out the meaning behind those rather striking words:
Let whatever you experience remind you of the
Holy One. If love, let it remind you of the love of
God, if fear, let it remind you of the fear of God. When
you go to sleep, think, my consciousness is now going
to God. Even when you use the toilet, you should think,
"I am now separating the bad from good. Now only
the good remains for the service of God." In this way
you will be strengthened in your service of God....
Wonderful. And there are dozens more at this level. For instance, the entire concept of "joy." Most of us have the image of bearded men with long payot (sidelocks) dancing, whether from Fiddler on the Roof or from Chagall paintings. But the authors of this book quote the beautiful line from Psalm 100—"Serve Adonai in Joy; come before God in Happiness"—and then explain, "[the Hebrew word] b'simcha could mean either 'in joy' or 'through joy.' Both offer sound spiritual advice. To 'serve God in happiness' suggests that one should be joyous while serving God. According to the Baal Shem Tov and subsequent Hasidim, however, joy is more than merely an ideal state in which to perform religious acts. The joy itself becomes a necessary ingredient for all religious life, a primary religious category."
What's interesting is, a thousand Self-Help and Popular Psychology books sitting in Chapters, Indigo and to be found on amazon.com today tell us of the importance of "positive thinking"; of the power behind "visualizing success." Yet, over two centuries ago, the Jews of Eastern Europe were telling each other—and eventually, the world, that joy is essential; even a religious obligation. And that "sadness is also dangerous," as the authors point out: "When you are depressed, you are not only unhappy, your will is weakened, you are unable to act. You have literally lost the good fight." God wants us to be happy; that's why the Lord created us in the first place. The rabbis write, "God draws great pleasure from your joy. And the ultimate goal, even more than your own perfection, is to please God. Preoccupation with religious failures, mistakes, and sins only debilitates a person, rendering him or her incapable of serving and pleasing God." How logical; yet though at its core, it flows from a mystical, religious tradition.
Even the great watchword of our faith, the Shema, is given a mystical/Hasidic twist. The authors teach us that the founder of Lubavitch, Schneur Zalman of Liadi, insisted that "nothing exists but God"—which is defined as "acosmism"—the denying of the cosmos. So, God is not only the basis of reality; God is the ONLY reality. Of course, if nothing exists except God, then we must struggle to achieve a vision of the unity of all creation. "The question is," the authors write, "how do we bring the awareness of that higher unity into the everyday reality of this world? That is the challenge of sacred living: to realize more unity—with patience and devotion, to make THIS world resemble the one on High. And this is where Judaism parts company with the religions of the East," the rabbis wisely point out. "Judaism understands this yearning as a sacred obligation, a requirement for holy living, a commandment." (emphasis mine).
Powerful stuff. Let's face it: if we see the entire world as God, we won't slap that child, yell at that badly-driven car that just cut us off the road, hate our parents, mock our relatives, cheat on our taxes. After all, we are all One.
Ultimately, what is so important about this too-slim, over-priced Filling Words with Light is the effect it can have on many readers—including myself already, I happily admit—who often tussle with these centuries-old prayers that we find ourselves reading in synagogue or Temple—sometimes by rote, often still stumbling (after all these years!).
To quote my own beloved rebbe, Rabbi Elyse Goldstein of Toronto, whose blurb proudly stands on the back cover of the book: "So much wisdom, made so accessible." I agree, as I usually do, with Rabbi Goldstein. For any Jew or people interested in Judaism, whether extremely knowledgeable, or still tripping over the Hebrew and trying to make sense of those seemingly-obscure prayers which continue to be read in Jewish homes and synagogues around the world, Filling Words with Light is a godsend. Pun intended.
