The Pious Man

What is piety? Is it abandonment of the world?
Is it scrupulous performance of rites or fanatic zeal?
Let us observe the pious man and probe into his soul.
We shall discover in it that which transcends man,
That which surmounts the visible and available,
Steadily preventing him from immersing himself in sensation or ambition,
From yielding to passion or slaving for a career.
For him life takes place amid horizons beyond the span of years.

He senses the significant in small things, he is alive to the sublime in common acts and simple thoughts.

He feels the warmth of good beneath the thick crust of evil.
In the rush of the passing, he notes the stillness of the eternal.
He complies with destiny; He is at peace with life.
Every experience opens to him the door into a temple of light, though the vestibule be dark and dismal.
His responsibility to God is the scaffold, on which he stands, as daily he builds his life.

He serves family, friend, community and nation….

Engrossed in the beauty of what he worships, he shuns self display.
The wise man, master of himself, oft deems himself author of his mastery;
Not so the pious who, no less master of himself, administers his life in God’s name.
The wise man seeks to penetrate into the soul of the sacred;
The pious man ever strives to be penetrated by it.

Faith engages a man’s mind;
Piety, his entire life.

Faith precedes piety; Piety is faith’s achievement;
Faith desires to meet God; Piety to abide by Him;
Faith strives to know His will; Piety, to do it;
Faith yearns to hear His voice; Piety, to respond to it.

The pious man is never alone, for God is within reach of his heart.

In affliction, though desolate for a moment, he need but turn his eyes,
To discover his grief outflanked by God’s compassion.
Having achieved understanding, he believes;
Having acquired, he gives away;
Having lived, he knows how to die.

He craves not vainly for the endless rotation of his own life’s wheel.
He is content to merge his being into that of the God he loves.

That Religion Be Not a Cloak for Hypocrisy
Suggested by Psalm 5

O God,
frustrate the purposes of evil men
who make a show of piety,
while in their hearts
they mock at righteousness.

They exploit their fellowmen
and cheat them of their due,
and then seek to bribe you
with lavish gifts
out of the hard-earned toil
of those they rob.

Make known to them
that you despise
their worshipful posturings,
and loathe
their sanctimonious cant.

May those who worship you in truth
never come to doubt your unfailing justice.

May they never be driven by suffering
to sinful utterance
or disloyal deed.

How the hypocrites gloat
in tearing honest men away from you!

Having driven the righteous from your presence,
they remain sole masters of religion’s power,
and use its symbols for their own ends.

Open, O God, men’s eyes
so that they may discern the evil intent
of those who invoke your name
to hallow their ungodly deeds.

Create in men a repugnance
to all pretense and hypocrisy;
fortify against scorn and ridicule
all those who trust in you.

Let them abide in the confidence
that truth will in the end prevail.

What those of us who teach prayer tend to forget is that the prayer book is not a “book”, not in the normal sense.

When I read almost any passage in almost any text, I am being addressed by an external voice. “Yes,” you will say, “but, well, duh.” In fact, though, it is worth saying, because the knowledge that I’m being addressed, and my understanding of who is addressing me, govern the way I will try to understand the text. True, the interpretive strategies I will use will differ if I’m listening for the unified commanding voice of God, or the multiple voices of codifiers and redactors, or even for something as amorphous as the “text itself”. At least I am comfortable with the goal of interpreting what someone is trying to say to me.

For all, though, that liturgy may look like any number of other kinds of classical Jewish texts it is fundamentally different in this, that a liturgical text does not address the reader. Quite the opposite – the very definition of a prayer is that it is something the reader uses to address someone else, specifically God. This small and obvious point has far-reaching consequences especially for the educator, because it insists that the “reader” is really the “speaker”. But of course the student is not really the speaker; not yet. And so in addition to all of the questions normally invoked in learning to read a document (what do the words mean, what are the references, what are the ideas being expressed, etc.), the student is faced with a new and unfamiliar task. Understanding liturgy means finding that speaker, finding that voice, and discovering what it feels like to adopt it as one’s own.

I wanted my students to start thinking of prayers as expressions of an interior world, rather than as descriptions of the exterior one. I suggested to them that they think of a prayer as a kind of mask, much like the ones worn in religious rituals by many peoples. The job of the mask-wearer is to discover the reality on the “inside” of the mask and bring it to life.

In our class work, we had seen that classical blessings always begin with a phenomenon in the world – eating a piece of bread, say, or lighting a candle. While the blessing itself would not make reference to this piece of bread, or this candle, it did re-cast the phenomenon as a synecdoche of an attribute of God: this piece of challah is an example of God’s nature as bread-giver. In other words, a blessing expresses a different way of seeing.

With this in mind, I could ask my students to take a passage that caught their fancy and ask, “How is the author of this prayer seeing the world?” It was then a short step for them to try to imagine what kind of person it might be that would see the world (or a small part of it” in that kind of way. Thus far, the work was very similar to what might be done in a poetry class, or even a class in script analysis. But because in a Jewish religious school liturgy is a practice, not just a text, I took it a step further. “Now that you’ve imagined what the ‘inside’ of the person saying this prayer is like,” I said, “envision that person’s face.” I passed out blank white masks, which I’d picked up at a party supply store, markers, glue sticks, colored paper, various odds and ends. “You’ve picked the Sh’ma? Make a mask of ‘Sh’ma Man’. The Keddusha? Show me the face of the one who sees angels.”

Did it work? I think so. They made masks: some quite striking, some even moving., and they discovered that they were thinking about the texts in ways they never had before, hearing as though for the first time phrases they’d known since childhood. Did it transform the way they felt about prayer or the prayer book? Probably not. Maybe if we I had given them more time to work with those masks, maybe even to davven with them in a closed, safe environment. But perhaps that is asking too much of students in a high school class – too much trust, too much vulnerability. Maybe that wants to be tried with a self-selecting group, or on a retreat. Maybe mask-work should be introduced first to younger children, or maybe saved for adults. What the project did, though, was to give the students another set of tools, another set of questions, to bring to the prayer book. It helped them see, I hope, that whatever prayer is, it isn’t a book.

Purim, the springtime Jewish holiday celebrating the power of masking, is focused on the events that happened in Persia long ago and retold in the Megillat Esther, the Scroll of Esther. For just one day (unlike other much longer celebrations of the lunar year), up go the masks, ultimately victory is ours, and down they must come.

Charade plays a great part in Jewish tradition. We consider the highest form of tsedaqah (charity) to be that neither the recipient nor donor knows the face of the other. The recipient doesn’t really lose “face”, and the gift is not an ego-boosting investment. 

Even when Moshe demands of the Great Donor “Show me your face …” (Exodus 33:18) atop Mt. Sinai, he is “only” granted view of the back. The encounter takes place in a cloud, veiling the events to the people awaiting the outcome below.

Because we cannot live on two planes, we are granted the opportunity to disguise our external features. We develop the capacity to know each others hearts and find even greater satisfaction in the exchange.

Yet, too often, we act as if someone else — who looks remarkably like oneself — is going to provide the support for nonprofit organizations we deem are necessary for a decent life. We assume / hope / pray that someone “else” is doing our part. It’s their turn to make a critical contribution, even a small one, that gives relief, replaces a worn-out part, opens the door wide enough to make a difference.

Have a great Purim and then cut the charade. Take a look in the mirror and find your own face. Please do what only you can do! Make a donation to your favorite nonprofits in honor of Purim (P.S. It’s tax deductible!)

For a sourcesheet on Rosh haShanah la-Behemah, find Aharon Varady’s compilation of texts, here.

This year, the first of Elul 5774, Rosh haShanah la-Behemah — the Jewish New Year’s Day for Animals, begins the evening of August 26, 2014 and continues through August 27. In ancient Israel, Rosh haShanah la-Behemah affected shepherds and cattle herders: domesticated animals (behemot) born before this date were placed in one group for tithing, and those born after were placed in another group. But in our time, the New Year for the Animals is an opportunity to celebrate all animal life. Especially now that humanity’s impact is felt over the whole planet, and the livelihood and survival of wild animals (ḥayot) increasingly depends on our choices, we are responsible for their care, just as Noah became responsible for all the animals in the ark.

This New Year can be a time to examine and correct our relationship with all the creatures that share the world with us, now that every species is in a sense domesticated because its survival is affected by our decisions and actions. The New Year Festival for the Animals in the month of Elul also marks the beginning of our journey toward the Rosh Hashanah of Tishrei, when we blow the shofar and focus on our relationships with each other and with God. Last year, we shared rituals for how to celebrate the day — for example, by listening for the voices of all the behemot, the domesticated animals that we depend on for our lifestyle and diet, in the sound of the shofar, the horn of a behemah.

This year, in advance of Rosh haShanah la-Behemah, we are sharing a profound and imaginative activity that Rabbi David Seidenberg first introduced at the Teva Education Seminar in 2010 (organized by the Teva Learning Alliance). The activity, “The Council of All Beings,” is an exercise in empathy where we challenge ourselves to walk in the shoes, hoofs and paws of the creatures we share this beautiful world with. It’s an activity that is fun and meaningful for young and old, whether they are at a Jewish summer camp or at a Rosh haShanah la-Behemah seudah (feast) organized for celebrating all life, great and small.

Participants in the activity choose any non-human being to roleplay, including not only animals, but plants, bacteria, ecosystems, places, etc. How they pick their “ally” is described below. Then they take on the persona of that ally, perhaps using masks or face-painting, and come together “in council” to talk about what they see happening to the planet. Inevitably the discussion will come round to the question, how can the creatures can communicate with human beings to change what is happening? After the Council, this can lead directly to a discussion of our responsibilities as Jews and human beings to choose life, to be mindful of tsa’ar baalei ḥayyim — the suffering of other living creatures — and to not let the world become a wasteland.

The Council of All Beings

Rabbi Seidenberg writes:

This outline of the Council of All Beings is lightly edited from a version created for schools by the Institute for Humane Education (IHE). The Council is modified from the original version found in Thinking Like a Mountain: Toward a Council of All Beings by Joanna Macy, Arne Naess, John Seed, and Pat Fleming. The original version describes a series of rituals that happens over several days, culminating in the Council of All Beings. This is a meaningful short version of this powerful activity. You can find Joanna Macy’s version here and a version from John Seed’s Rainforest Information Center colleagues here.

In between the IHE’s instructions are suggestions and scripts John Seed shared with David, again with David’s emendations.

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Participants	Ages: 10 and up.
What’s needed	Time: 1-2 hours
	Setting: A quiet place outdoors or in a room where you won’t be disturbed. Sitting on the ground is best. (Cushions and chairs really should be used only by people who need them.) If you must meet indoors, avoid rooms with fluorescent lights, or bring a lamp. The mood matters.
	Art supplies: construction paper, paints, crayons, stones, shells, or other found and recycled objects, scissors, glue, make-up, face-paint, or any other art supplies that you would like to bring making masks or making up faces.

1. Explain the entire Council before beginning (finding a being to be an ally, making a mask, speaking as your ally and listening to every other ally, bringing what you learn back to your human life), so that participants know what is going to happen. Emphasize that silence (in between the spoken comments of Council members) is an important part of the Council.
   

   John Seed: One of the things that people more grounded in the Earth than ourselves have always known, and continue to know, is that it is not difficult for us to be the voices of nature, or to allow other beings to speak through us, that we can become a medium for their truth. This is the basis of the Council of All Beings, which is the ritual that we’ll be doing.

   When I introduce the workshop, I let people know that there is no correct way to do this, that many people have tried it in different ways and that there is nothing special about the particular way we will do this to-day. “If you want to lead a Council (and I hope you do), know that you can change it in any way you like. Perhaps you’ve read the book Thinking Like a Mountain in which case you’ll see that what we do to-day is quite different than the version described there”. I say this David cause this is the spirit in which I want you to read the following comments.

2. Invite students to go out into nature, to the trees, grasses, rocks, or to find a spot in the space that participants are in, and to sit or lie down so that they are comfortable. Instruct them to close their eyes, in whatever spot they have found, and let the image of an animal (human or nonhuman), or part of nature or landscape, come to them in their imaginations. Remind them not to force themselves to think about a certain animal or part of nature, but rather to let the being visit them in their thoughts.
   

   John Seed: The first thing we’re going to need for the Council of All Beings is an ally, and that ally is a non-human being, because the Council, for the moment, consists of non-human beings only.

   There was a time when human beings were part of the Council, and we pray for a time when human beings as a whole again come to the Council. Now, it is time for the voiceless to be heard. So there will be no humans in the Council, but ANY non human beings are welcome and these may be animals, or plants, or features of the landscape, lakes, rivers, rain, clouds, trees or worms – it is all OK. Go out into the woods and begin to do this walking meditation, and just meander, amble, and then you might suddenly feel that you need to allow things to blur, you just want to be able to see enough so that you don’t fall over, and then you might feel a certain tree pulling you towards it, at but when you get there, the tree is not it, you discover that it is not that the tree is your ally, but the tree is an antenna, that allows your ally, which might for example be the African Elephant. The process of finding your ally is an important part of really letting go of our usual boundaries, our sense of what’s dignified, and our sense of what’s nonsense. Just letting go, child-like, saying, “Maybe I’m going to learn something new today, maybe something is going to happen, that hasn’t happened before.” So, we are looking for that place of readiness for something new. You can bring back anything interesting you find on your journey, e.g. feathers, that may help you with your mask, but be gentle in taking things from nature.

   If time is short (say 1-2 hours) or if the Council is being held indoors:

   Invite students to go out into nature, to the trees, grasses, rocks, or to find a spot in the space that participants are in, and to sit or lie down so that they are comfortable. Instruct them to close their eyes, in whatever spot they have found, and let the image of an animal or part of nature or landscape, come to them in their imaginations. Remind them not to force themselves to think about a certain animal or part of nature, but rather to let the being visit them in their thoughts.

3. Ask the participants to “become” the being that has visited them in their imaginations. Encourage them feel themselves turning into this animal or part of nature (such as a cloud, a mountain, a tree, a wolf, or a spider). Let them ask: “What is happening to me as this being? How do I feel? What is my life like? My days? My nights? My interactions with other beings? With my environment? What do I want? What do I have to say? What would I like to tell people? What wisdom do I have as this being?” Remind them to listen inside for the answers.
4. After giving participants some time to really “become” their being, bring the art supplies into the center of the circle and invite students to open their eyes and silently to make a mask to represent themselves as this being. The mask does not have to look like the being, as long as it is evocative for the wearer. Some participants will be tempted to spend a long time on their mask. Remind them that the mask is only a representation, and give a five-minute and one-minute warning for finishing the mask. Or, have participants help each other with make-up and face-paint to to become this being. (This step is important, but the Council can also be formed without it.)
   

   John Seed: The mask doesn’t have to be a likeness at all, it can be an abstract representation. The mask doesn’t have to be beautiful; it’s good if it covers our face because it can make it a deeper experience if we are not looking at human faces, but sometimes people have come back with a mask that was just a fin which they wore on their back as a dolphin. You can do anything you like. If you put it over your face it’s good for the mask to have eyeholes so you can see what is going on. And it’s great if you have a hole where the mouth is so that it’s easier for all to hear what you are saying. This can be quite fast, it doesn’t matter what the mask looks like because you are going to introduce yourself in the Council, so everyone will know who you are.

5. When everyone has finished making their persona, form the Council.
   

   John Seed: Briefly introduce the council process with the following instructions:

   • Use the ‘first person’. Introduce yourself as your ally – e.g., “I am snake and I live close to the Earth…..”
   • Refer to humans as “they” or “the two-leggeds” etc. That is, don’t talk to the other creatures in the circle as if they were human – this is very confusing for them.
   • Feel free to let your ally express itself in any way – including movements and noises which it likes to make.

6. One by one, each being should introduce him-, her-, or itself and say what their life is like, who they are, and how they spend their time. After each being speaks, if you wish, the Council can respond by saying, “We hear you ____ (name of being).”
   

   John Seed: We come to this council to share matters that are close to our hearts, also to share our strengths, our beauty, our troubles and our wisdom. Invite any being to speak.

   These days the way I do the Council is less structured. After once round the circle when each being introduces itself as you suggest (I don’t add the instruction “the rest of the group can respond by saying “We hear you ____ (name of being).”” but there’s no reason for you not to do so if you like the feel of that), I basically let the group evolve as it will. An interesting conversation invariably develops and there’s nothing left for me as facilitator to do but participate till I feel its time to bring the Council to a close (which is when we run out of time or I start to get bored or I sense that other people are starting to get bored.) That is, once round the circle when all the allies introduce themselves, then “popcorn” style thereafter and everyone speaks as they feel moved. This inevitably means that some speak more than others but makes for a more interesting conversation.

7. Ask the beings to each speak again, this time telling the Council what is happening to them, including what humans have done to them and what they would like to say to humans. Once again, the rest of the group can respond by saying “We hear you ____ (name of being).”
   

   John Seed: A council can be all about the beauty of Gaia, our planet. It doesn’t have to focus on problems! Some advice to the facilitator is to be invisible; when something seems needed, wait a few minutes. But don’t let it get boring or fidgety, add questions that lead or prompt or suggest, and always connect them back to something another being has said. So it is important to note things said that can be weaved into an ending, and to allow all the possibilities to be explored.

8. After each being has spoken again, ask them to talk once more, sharing whatever wisdom, knowledge, or gifts they have to offer and what they might teach people who are willing to listen. The group can respond by saying “We thank you ____ (name of being).”
   

   John Seed: If there is a ‘conspiracy’ to deny what the humans are doing, get in and give humans a real talking to. Don’t let the council be falsely protective of humans activities.

9. Finally, after each being has spoken for the last time, ask participants to remove their masks one by one. As each of them takes off the mask, you can invite them to turn their masks toward themselves and make a small promise to their being.
   

   John Seed: Invite everyone to “put on human masks.”

   Ritual burning of the masks. This can be a final release of the spirit of everyone’s allies back into the world, and a chance to thank them for the specific gifts they have brought to us and that we will carry on into our everyday lives. One by one, we place our masks on the fire and speak our thanks. Many groups don’t want to burn the masks but have kept them or passed them on. A ritual burning, however, can be a powerfully symbolic way of transforming the magic of the council into reality, and can ‘ground the energy’.

10. To end the Council, you can say something like, “May these promises be sacred to us. Many thanks to the beings who have come together today to share their feelings, dreams, hopes, and wisdom.”
    

    John Seed: One way you can end the Council is to say the following:

    “We must not forget our wildness. When you see a fellow being, remember this, be heard, speak out, do something every day to remind us of our true selves. Let us teach the humans our rituals and make them fun, and lure them back to Council.”

    We have shared much, surely enough for the humans to change, if only they can hear us.

    When we hear the earth speak to us, we are transformed and come to understand our actions from a new perspective. Once we have experienced the fierce joy of life that attends extending our identity into nature, once we realize that the nature within and the nature without are continuous, then we too may share and manifest the exquisite beauty and effortless grace associated with the natural world.

    Spirit that hears each one of us,/ Hears all that is—
    Listens, listens, hears us out—Inspire us now!
    Our own pulse beats in every stranger’s throat,
    And also there within the flowered ground beneath our feet,
    And—teach us to listen!—
    We can hear it in water, wood, and even in stone.
    We are earth of this earth, and we are bone of its bone.

    Barbara Deming

In the white space of every Hebrew word and letter is another word or letter, hidden in plain sight. Step into this world and you can discover marvels. This is the world of Jewish magic and fantasy – a wilderness of delight and danger; a sanctuary of dreams and wisdom only reached by journey through our active imaginations. It is true you can find this world suggested in the tales of our people, recorded in the Holy Torah, in the writings of our ancient visionaries, in those remembered by our sages in the Talmud and in those told by our great storytellers (even into the present day). Perhaps you are already familiar with some of them. They are, each of them, an invitation and a gateway to corridors of dreams which lead through a maze of lands that you too can travel through and meet the magical people and creatures residing there. It is a world that is hidden but only as distant as you choose to keep it.

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The overarching philosophy of Midbar Quest is that Judaism invites us to take our imaginations seriously. Our god, after all, is either invisible or hidden by its veritable ubiquity and its self-conception is engaged through exercises of the imagination. And imagination must be cultivated. Those who demean the imaginary as “fake” or “false” or set-up myth as a straw-man for Truth, usually have some other proposition or advertising to sell. The last territory to colonize is the imagination and what better way to populate fresh minds with junk imaginations is to convince them that products of the imagination are commodities like any other, and that it’s better to buy up and passively consume someone else’s vision than to seek out ans share one’s own in play. Myths, while vehicles for all sorts of ideas, have by the power of metaphor always been powerful containers for sharing complicated ideas, esoteric wisdom, and even scientific knowledge. They survive in an ephemeral world we create as partners with culture. This world is perhaps the most integral space in which Jewish culture lives. Jewish culture does not live in the Land of Israel. Jewish culture does not live in Hebrew dictionaries. Jewish culture does not live in the Siddur or the Torah or the Sefer ha-Aggadah. Jewish culture lives in the imagination beyond all such artifacts and concepts that give witness to the existence of this imagination. I call it, the land beyond the River Sambatyon – a river that cannot be traversed by ordinary means. A kfitsat haderekh is required since this land cannot be plotted on any map (although possibly allusions to it can be found in certain maps). It is a sanctuary of the imagination, and just as potent and ephemeral as a child’s soul.

J.R.R. Tolkien explains that fantasy in the modern tradition of William Morris, is misunderstood as escapist literature. Rather, a fantasy presents a world that is comparative to our own and which through that comparison has the potential to inspire change. This is the radical potential of the imaginary. The fact that the landscape, characters, and ideas shared through Jewish folklore are so unfamiliar to many Jewish children is thus a serious concern for without it, the rest of Judaism has little foundation. Some, despondent with the superstitions of yor, have argue for a Judaism built upon Maimonides quietist neo-Aristotelian rationalism – a philosopher’s Judaism. They are deluding themselves. We are dreamers, children of prophets and our stories are containers and vehicles for values that might eagerly (or absently, or casually, or callously) be overwritten in favor of some other muscular Judaism. As a project in recovery and restoration, we thus seek to develop in the minds of youth and adults fluency in the living imagination of Jewish culture through modalities of immersive and transformative experiential education. We hope that our realization of this project through tabletop adventure roleplaying inspires other educators to incorporate its techniques in their own curriculum and with the groups they seek to engage deeply with loving-kindness for the autonomy of their student’s tselem elohim – their world creating capabilities. –Aharon Varady, 2015

Adventure roleplaying through the landscape of Jewish folktales, rabbinic Jewish lore, and biblical and apocryphal mythology has been the largely private and very nerdy desire of Aharon Varady since he was 11 years old. He was first introduced to Jewish demons while learning the Talmud Bava Metziah in fifth grade and to Jewish fantasy literature soon afterward through an anthology of strange Yiddish stories translated by Joachim Neugroshel, z”l, entitled: Yene Velt (the Other Side). Frustrated by the misappropriation of Jewish fantasy motifs and mystical ideas in western hermetic, occult, and genre literature, on the one hand, and the lack of attention, interest, and expertise among Jewish educators, on the other, he set out to learn as much as he could from books, eventually discovering a growing body of scholarly literature in English in academic libraries. Through a clever ploy, he tricked a community of Jewish environmental educators into an evening of adventure roleplaying and character creation in a medieval world populated by oppressive fiefs, scroll thievery, magic, demons, and forest Jews. While pursuing a masters degree in Jewish experiential education at the William Davidson School at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America, he wrote a paper in 2013 titled: “Developmental Issues in Guided Fantasy Roleplaying for Children and Young Adolescents for Jewish Education.” In 2014, while working as a Yahadut (Judaism) specialist at Eden Village Summer Camp, he began offering “Midbar Quest” as an activity during schmooze for a select group of “Keter” boy campers. This Players Handbook was written during the summer of 2015, when Midbar Quest was accepted as an official ḥug (elective) option for both pre-teen and adolescent campers, boys and girls. The popular ḥug engaged over 80 campers that year. Since then it’s continued to be developed by aspiring maggidim worldwide, in-person and online, in synagogues and supplemental Jewish education curricula.

This meditation is inspired, in part, by pieces written by Rabbi Steven Exler and Zoketsu Norman Fischer. It is also based on the teaching of the Ba’al Shem Tov, the founder of Ḥasidic Judaism, that “a person is a microcosm of the world, and they have inside them Pharaoh, Egypt and so on” (See Toldot Ya’akov Yosef on BeShalaḥ).

Postscript: Questions to Consider

• What is the liberation I am needing right now?
• Freedom from what?
• Freedom towards what?
• How have I best made progress in this journey of liberation until now?
• How might I best progress with this journey of liberation going forward from this moment?