Galut HaNeshama - The Exile of the Soul
Eicha Yashva Vadad HaIr Rabati Am Hayita K’Almana
How desolate sits the city; once full with people, it has become like a widow. (Lamentations 1:1)
The mournful lament touches us deeply; its words, hitting us with an incredible sense of relevance this year. How desolate sits the city once full with people. How desolate. These words, which begin the biblical book of Lamentations, are of course referring to the desolation of Jerusalem following the destruction of the First Temple by the Babylonians in 423 BCE. But how easily they could have been written just over a month ago from the banks of New Orleans.
In the news reports over the past six weeks, we have listened to a vocabulary, sometimes controversial, including words such as: exile, Diaspora, refugees, and displaced persons. We know these words. They have, unfortunately, been a part of our Jewish vocabulary for millennia.
The concept of exile, or galut, is one that has been a part of our Jewish self-identity since the time that the book of Lamentations was first written. Sitting on the shores of the River of Babylon, we wept mourning Zion. Psalm 137 bewails: “If I forget you O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither; let my tongue stick to my palate if I cease to think of you, if I do not keep Jerusalem in my memory even at my happiest hour.” (Psalm 137:5-6) Generation after generation, our identity was connected to our homelessness and linked to the consistent reminder that we had been dispersed from our homeland. Certainly, part of this understanding was reinforced by gentile neighbors who were hostile to the Jewish communities in their midst. But regardless of the reasoning, a feeling of exile permeated all of Jewish life, in every single community until modern times.
Two major circumstances in modernity changed our relationship with the concept of galut. One was, of course, the establishment of the State of Israel. There we find that Jewish living reflects the original intention of Biblical law. When Jewish law was expanded in Rabbinic literature, many of the original laws were written one way for life in exile and another way for life in the Land of Israel. So for example, in Israel, Jewish holidays are observed according to their Biblical proscriptions: seven days of Passover rather than eight, one seder instead of two. While there is fringe opposition by a small fraction of the ultra-Orthodox community in Israel against the dissolution of a geographical galut, for most Israelis, the realization of a sovereign Jewish state in the Land of Israel, is reason to rid the Jewish people of the notion of living in a physical exile.
The second circumstance to change the traditional concept of galut was the advent of Reform Judaism, especially as it grew in America. The first statement of principles of American Reform Judaism, the Pittsburgh Platform (full text), drawn under the leadership of Rabbi Isaac Meyer Wise, negated the very principle of the Jewish people living in exile. The platform, written in 1885, stated:
We consider ourselves no longer a nation, but a religious community, and therefore expect neither a return to Palestine… nor the restoration of any of the laws concerning the Jewish state.
For so many American Jews, America was as much of a promised land as the land of Israel and therefore, the concept of living in galut lost much relevance in modern American life. Certainly, the establishment of the State of Israel 83 years after the Pittsburgh Platform changed the sentiment amongst many American Jews about the importance of a Jewish State. Yet nonetheless, the notion that life in America could be equated with a state of exile was removed from the radar screens of many modern American Jews.
As we stand today secure in the worthwhile nature of our Diaspora communities, we know with certainty that the feeling of exile does not necessarily accompany the condition of exile. Yet perhaps we should not be so quick to erase the word galut from our modern Jewish vocabulary. For according to Rabbinic opinion, exile is as much a state of banishment from a spiritual realm as it is from a geographic space. The scope of the idea of galut is further broadened in Midrashic, Kabalistic, and Hasidic literature to include not only a historical and national phenomenon, but also a spiritual and personal condition – a soul dynamic. We may not consider ourselves to be in galut on a national or geographic level, but on a different plane, might we still be in a state of spiritual exile, an exile of the soul, a galut haneshama?
The Kabbalists had an increasingly spiritual understanding of the meaning of exile. After the destruction of the Second Temple, in 70 CE, by the Romans, not only did the Jewish people go into exile, but God went into exile too, as it were. The Talmud explains that it was the Shekhinah, the manifestation of Divine spirituality, that was exiled with the community. (Megillah 29a) The Talmud explains that a teacher whose disciple is exiled is obligated to accompany that student into galut. If punishment is to serve a didactic purpose, the student must be provided with a means of understanding the moral instruction that accompanies the pain. Likewise, the Kabbalists teach, the shekhinah remains with the Jewish people in exile in the form of our sacred scrolls and books, to accompany us as we attempt to navigate the world.
The great Hebrew poet, Hayim Nachman Bialik, explored the idea of the shekhina and exile in his poem L’vadi – “Alone.” In the poem, a young man beckoned by the call of the modern enlightenment, leaves his Beit Midrash, his house of study. The shekhina, symbolized by a broken-winged bird, is left alone in the empty house of study. She laments:
Scattered to the four winds of heaven;
They are gone, and I am alone.
Bialik explores a very important point of transition in the relationship between the Jewish people and their spiritual galut. The shekhina, who accompanies the Jewish people throughout our own exile is now in her own isolation. By turning our backs on study, Bialik sadly proclaims that we have driven the shekhina, the Divine presence, out of our lives.
Our national spiritual exile, described by Bialik in his poem, is important to consider, yet in order to understand a further level of galut, we are called to reflect on our own personal spiritual exile, something that lives close to each of us. The most isolating exile is that which we experience within ourselves. Miriam Birnbaum, a contemporary scholar, explains how this condition of galut haneshama, leads us from Rabbinic notions of galut to our own experiences today. “We are a product of many different worlds, yet find ourselves not quite at home anywhere. Seeking fragments of truth in far-flung places, we find them disturbingly compounded with falsehood. Our relationships with God, with others, and even with ourselves are obstructed by a vague sense of numbness and isolation.” Note 1
We live in a time of great spiritual need. Jews are reaching out in record numbers for spiritual threads upon which to grasp. We hear about an increased interest in pop Kabbalah practiced by the likes of Madonna and eastern religions like Buddhism. Did you know that as many as 30% of American Buddhists are Jews? Why is it that so many Jews have looked beyond the richness of our own traditions to find spiritual nourishment? Our souls just might be in exile… but the enriching qualities of faith and understanding that we seek are not so far away.
Dr. Larry Hoffman, a professor of Jewish liturgy and a leader in the field of synagogue transformation, explains that for far too long, Jewish religious life has remained on a child-appropriate level, a “pediatric” form of Judaism. Dr. Hoffman says, “In our understandable anxiety to pass on Judaism to our children as their heritage, we neglected its spiritual resources for adults, leaving ourselves with no adequate notion of how we too might draw sustenance from our faith as we grow up and grow older.” Note 2
It is clear to me, from my first few months at Temple Isaiah, that this community works hard to attain an increasingly sophisticated synagogue experience. The pediatric brand of Judaism does not fly here. The high level of adult education courses, family education, and community lectures are astounding. Yet we must continue to ask ourselves, how are we working to strengthen our spiritual sides so that we are not in a spiritual galut?
At this season, we are asked to take a spiritual accounting of our souls, a heshbon hanefesh. And so we must do just that. We ask ourselves the questions that will help us determine the health of our neshama, our soul: How often do we pray? When do we find time for study? How has our theology, our sense of God in the world developed over the past year? If our answers point to stagnancy, then we must look to our own galut haneshama, our spiritual exile, as a void worthy of change in our lives.
One way that we can work to lessen the spiritual exile is through study. Judaism is unique in its emphasis on study as a way of coming into God’s presence. Dr. Louis Finkelstein used to say, “When I pray, I talk to God. When I study Torah, God talks to me.” When we put Torah in a preeminent position in our lives, we can bridge the spiritual gap that we so often feel. Find yourself a chevruta – a study partner, study something together, find a Jewish book to read and discuss it together, focus on a body of text – so much of our textual tradition is available in English translation… it is all here for us, if we would only take the time to study it and let it infuse into our lives.
We live in a skeptical, cerebral culture. Our society values scholarship. Thus, when we come in contact with the rarified and lively Talmudic brand of scholarship, it generally hits a resonant chord. Critical and academic studies of our Jewish traditions are important and truly exciting, but they will never satiate our spiritual appetite. We must also make room for learning that takes us to a higher spiritual plane.
Another way for us bridge the gap of our own spiritual exile is through prayer. We are a sophisticated people in so many aspects of our lives, but how sophisticated are we in our prayer habits? We are much less comfortable with prayer, meditation and other modes of spiritually nourishing communion with the Divine. Even as we look to our own traditions for guidance, we feel the tremendous depth of spiritual galut. The distance between God and us is only expanded by our fears and inadequacies. Yet, the truth is, there is no right or wrong way to pray. However we approach prayer, we are ultimately seeking to find within our seemingly mundane world a spark of the Holy One in every and any opportunity. For when we find these sparks, we are ever so slightly redeeming the exile of our souls.
Take time for prayer in your life. Before a meal, before bed, as you wake up. Every seemingly small moment in our lives has the potential for holiness if only we would let God in. Shabbat is our weekly opportunity to have a taste of a redemptive soul. Think about the possible impact Shabbat might have on your spiritual sense of being, how just one simple change in the way you live your life on Shabbat might change your own understanding of what it means to live your life Jewishly – be it attending services regularly, making Shabbat dinner with your family a priority, turning off the TV for a few hours, taking an afternoon stroll, or studying the Torah portion. I invite you, if you are not already, to become part of our regular worship community at Temple Isaiah. You will hear from many of our regular Shabbat morning minyan attendees that both the prayer and Torah study that take place in the chapel give them a sense of centeredness and connection that makes a difference in their week.
The Gerer Rebbe, the 19th century rabbi also known as Sfat Emet, explained his understanding of the purpose of exile: “That Israel make visible God's kingdom, which is indeed everywhere. The true meaning of the word galut (exile) is found in the related word hitgalut (revelation), that the glory of God's kingdom be revealed in every place. This task is completed by the souls of Israel in this world...” Note 3
In this stunning piece of commentary, the Gerer Rebbe makes an enormous leap of imagination, connecting the everyday task of spiritual living in the life of the individual with the national, even cosmic, work of our people moving through time. No place is too trivial, no moment so devoid of meaning that divinity is absent from it.
When we find ourselves in exile -- that is, in times of darkness, vulnerability, and distance from any sense of direction or purpose, we must remember that, in fact, the Divine is present here, too. If we only look deeply enough into the experience of exile, pain and fear, we may be able to recognize the revelation hidden within it. The most encouraging and perhaps most important effect of galut is the intensification of a yearning for the holy and the Godly.
Tomorrow evening we will stand before the open ark during the Neilah service. The word ‘Neilah’ means ‘locking of a gate.’ In ancient days, as long as the sun shone, the gates of the Temple were kept open. All who wanted could enter. But at nightfall, the gates were locked. From then on, no one could enter or leave. After the Temple was destroyed and the Jewish people were scattered into exile, there were those who said that although the gates of the Temple are locked, the gates of prayer and tears are always open. (Bava Metzia 59a) Commenting on this, Rabbi Simchah Bunim taught that it is not the tears of despair that get through the gates, but tears of hope, trust, and faith. For when our lives are filled with hope, our souls will feel at home. As we attempt to bridge the spiritual exile of our lives, may we find hope that the gates will always remain open for us. On this day, may we find a spiritual gate, an entranceway to a new relationship with God, an opportunity to change, to begin anew.
Pitchu Lanu Sha’aray Tzedek Navo Vam Nodeh Yah
Open to us the gates of righteousness; we will enter them and give thanks to God. (Psalm 118:19)
Ken yehi ratzon.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Notes:
Note 1 “This is the Essence of Spiritual Exile,” Torah of the Mothers: Contemporary Jewish Women Read Classical Jewish Texts, Ed. Ora Wiskind Elper and Susan Handelman. Urim Publications New York. 2004. p. 358.
Note 2 "Al Chet Shechatanu... For The Sins That We Committed Willingly or Unintentionally..." Four Unintentional Sins Of Synagogue Life By Lawrence A. Hoffman, Synagogue 2000
Note 3 "The Language of Truth: The Torah Commentary of the Sefat Emet," translated by Arthur Green