OIL

Your Soul’s Secret of Secrets

Chanukah is the story of oil.

Despite the battles miraculously won by the weaker and fewer Maccabees against the mightier and larger Syrian-Greek army, the Talmud, in its description of the miracle of Chanukah, concentrates solely on the miracle of the oil and virtually ignores the military miracle. “What is Chanukah?” asks the Talmud. “Over what miracle was it established? When the Greeks entered the Sanctuary, they contaminated all its oil. Then, when the royal Hasmonean family overpowered and was victorious over them, they searched and found only a single cruse of pure oil that was sealed with the seal of the High Priest—enough to light the menorah for a single day. A miracle occurred, and they lit the menorah with this oil for eight days. The following year, they established these [eight days] as days of festivity and praise and thanksgiving for G-d.”

We thus celebrate Chanukah by commemorating the oil miracle and lighting the menorah for eight days, preferably using olive oil because it is easily drawn into the wick, its light burns clearly, and the miracle of Chanukah happened with olive oil.

Why the focus on oil? One could argue that discovering the oil was incidental to the main miracle of winning the battle against the enemy. Had that victory not taken place the subsequent discovery of the cruse of oil would not have been possible. Why then is the miracle of oil the defining feature of Chanukah, with no mention of the battles won – unlike, for instance, Passover, when we commemorate and recreate the victory over the Egyptians?

Chassidus explains that the essential miracle of Chanukah was a spiritual victory. The Syrian-Greeks didn’t want to physically annihilate the Jewish people (as Haman did in the time of Purim); they wanted to kill their souls. The Greeks were not opposed to Torah as body of human wisdom and mitzvoth as a set of ethical rules; they sought to “make them forget Your Torah and make them violate the decrees of Your will” – to divorce the Torah and mitzvoth from its spiritual and Divine nature. The battle was fought not for any material or political end, but for the very soul of Judaism (see The Transparent Body and The Physics of Chanukah). Thus the Talmud defines “What is Chanukah?” by its spiritual miracle—the discovery of the pure, undefiled cruse of oil and the rekindling of the divine light which emanated from the Holy Temple.

Even when the mighty materialistic Syrians-Greeks desecrated all things sacred, even as all sources of pure light (from pure olive oil) were gone, ultimately one crucible of purity remained, and revived the soul. The powerful quality of light – even a minimal amount – prevailed over the strongest forms of darkness.

This explains the significance of the flames. But why specifically oil?

The Midrash offers the following parable in explaining the use of olive oil for the Menorah in the Temple: “It is comparable to a king whose legions rebelled against him. However, one of his legions remained faithful and did not rebel. The king said that this legion that did not rebel, from them I will take for my rulers and governors. So did G-d say, This olive brought light to the world in the time of Noah, as we see ‘the dove came...and it had an olive branch in its mouth’ (Vayikra Rabba 31:10).

One commentary explains (Radal) that the corruption preceding the great flood did not affect man alone, but also the animal and plant kingdoms. Different animal species tried to interbreed; plants attempted to intergraft. Only the olive branch resists all forms of grafting. It thus it is considered the “legion that did not rebel.” It remained pure. Because it remained faithful to G-d, the olive was chosen to be the sign of rebirth and renewal after the flood. It was chosen to be the source for light in the holiest place in the world, and the source of light for generations to come.

But what is it about olive oil that immunizes it against corruptive forces? And how do we access this power?

The material nature of every physical entity evolves from its spiritual root. An analysis of the properties of oil can help illuminate its powerful spiritual significance.

The Talmud poses the following question: If an impurity touches oil floating on wine, does it contaminate the wine as well? Two opinions are offered: The Rabonon hold that oil is hydrophobic by nature and is therefore not considered connected to the wine, thus only the oil is contaminated, not the wine. Rabbi Yochanan ben Nuri disagrees. He holds that the oil is connected to the wine, and thus contaminates the wine as well (Tevul Yom 2:5).

Their disagreement applies to another law as well. On Shabbat we are prohibited from moving an object from a private area into a public area (or vice versa). The prohibition requires a two step process: lifting (akira) and placing (hanocho) – lifting the object from its resting place and placing it down in another place. The question is this: If oil is floating on top of wine, is it considered resting on the wine and thus prohibited to lift and place elsewhere. Rabbi Yochanan ben Nuri holds that the oil is connected to the wine, and thus is resting upon it. The Rabonon disagree and argue that oil is not connected, but completely separate from the wine. It is as if the oil is floating, and thus not considered to be lifted off the wine (Shabbat 5b).

The final ruling (halacha) follows the Rabonon, that the oil is completely separate from the wine.

The Rebbe Dovber (second Chabad Rebbe, son and successor of Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi) in his profound work “Imrei Binah” (Shaar ha’Kriyat Shma ch. 52-56) wonders what the basis of the argument is in the first place. “Isn’t it a matter of empirical observation,” he asks, “whether the two blend together or they remain completely separate. We can test and see whether the oil and wine have mixed together in some way – both in substance and in taste. So, what defines the argument between the Rabonon and Rabbi Yochanan ben Nuri?”

Rabbi Dovber explains that the nature of oil can be understood only after we analyze olive oil’s spiritual personality.

The soul consists of three dimensions: The conscious, the unconscious, and the un-unconscious. The conscious divides into the revealed biological, emotional and intellectual faculties – corresponding to nefesh, ruach and neshomo (the first three of the five names/levels of the soul). The unconscious is chaya – the transcendent dimension, which remains unrevealed, but can surface through exerted effort. Finally – each soul contains the un-unconscious, yechida, which defies any form of expression.

The un-unconscious always remains essentially unknowable. Its is the psychological parallel to the quantum-like state of fundamental probability, at the heart of Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle (see Beyond Structure, The Real You, The True You).

What distinguishes the level of the essential un-unconscious from the “regular” unconscious is that the unconscious is hidden, but can be revealed. In Carl Jung’s words: “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” This may be true on the level of the unconscious, but the level of the un-unconscious is fundamentally unrevealable.

Both are concealed, but the former is called “concealment of substance,” or the “defined unconscious,” and the other “concealment of no substance,” or the “undefined unconscious.” An example of the two is the difference between a white-hot coal and a flint stone. The fire in the coal is hidden, but it exists in the coal. All you need to do is fan the coal and the flame will emerge. In a flint stone no physical fire exists. However by striking it with force, you can release its spark (see The Power of Human Exertion).

These three dimensions – the conscious and the two levels of the unconscious – are embodies in the difference between bread, wine and oil: Bread, conventional food, manifests the revealed faculties. Wine, concealed in grapes, reflects the unconscious – which is revealed by even a light pressure on the grapes. Olive oil represents the un-unconscious (which is much more locked in the olive and therefore requires much more pressure to release, than wine in the grape). In the words of the Zohar: Wine is the level of “secrets” (a secret that can be revealed); oil is the level of the “secrets of secrets” – so secret that it is hidden even from the secrets, it is fundamentally secret and indefinable.

Oil itself also has two dimensions: One that interacts with the unconscious “wine” state, and leaves some impact on the unconscious. A higher level – the essential “oil” un-unconscious that remains detached and above all the levels it rests upon. [The paradox of oil is quite obvious: On one hand oil it saturates all that it comes in contact with. On the other hand, it rises and remains above any liquid it comes in contact with].

Rabbi Dovber explains that the two opinions of Rabbi Yochanan ben Nuri and the Rabonon, whether oil is connected or disconnected to the wine beneath it, reflect the two dimensions in oil: Rabbi Yochanan addresses the dimension of “oil” that comes in contact with and affects the “wine.” The Rabonon discuss the essential “oil,” which always remains not connected with the “wine.”

Now we can understand why oil plays such a primary role in the Chanukah experience: Oil represents the ultimate, essential soul connection to the Divine that is incorruptible and untouched by any impurity. It rises and floats above all existence.

It therefore has the power to transcend darkness – the materialistic challenge of the Greeks and their defiling of the Holy Temple and even the sacred oil. Like in “those days” so to today “at this time:” Even when our conscious and unconscious faculties may be temporarily compromised, one cruse of “pure oil” always remains, which is like a “pilot flame” that gives us the power to reignite the unconscious and the conscious that may have been extinguished (or concealed) for a while.

And the light that emerges from darkness is the strongest light of all. As the Ramban writes (beginning of Parshat Behaalotcho), that ‘these [Chanukah] flames will never be extinguished’ (unlike the Temple Menorah which ceased shining after the Temple’s destruction). Light that prevails after being challenged by darkness demonstrates that it is a light that can never die.

Chanukah is the celebration of oil – the oil within that lays in the deepest part of our souls – pure and innocent, untouched and untainted by all of life’s experiences, even the harshest ones. The pure oil of your soul floats above the din, which carries your secret of secrets – the part of you that transcends all defined forms of expression. The real you.

On all eight days of Chanukah, these lights are sacred, and we are not permitted to make use of them—only to look at them, in order to offer thanks and praise to Your great Name for Your miracles, for Your wonders and for Your salvations.

“We are not permitted to make use of them” – because they are beyond and to remain untouched by human needs, even our own. But we are allowed to look at them…

As we light the Chanukah flames let us study these flames and listen to their story – the story of our innermost lives, of our most intimate recesses of ours souls.

Chanukah tells the secret of secrets of your soul.

It’s comforting to know that despite all the darkness around us, despite the pains and losses we endure, despite the black night and the hostile streets – a quiet, little flame remains lit, untouched, unrevealable – hovering above, barely touching, yet firmly in touch with our regular lives.

This may be the most powerful message that we will ever hear: Your soul has a secret. A secret of secrets. Nothing, absolutely nothing, can touch, let alone hurt or diminish your soul’s secret oil.

On Chanukah the secret of your soul is revealed – the secret of all secrets.

On Chanukah you have the power to touch the untouchable, or better yet: to be touched by the untouchable.

ALL FOR A LITTLE

“Yosef brought an ill report of them to their father” (Gen.37.2)



Not every thought is given to speech. Not every spoken word is given to writing. Not every written word is published. (Rabbi Yisrael Salanter)



Every published word is like a lamp that has the potential to give a little light.



It follows that a great amount of thought is given to shed but a little light.



However, only a little light is required to remove the darkness.

THE DISLOCATED HIP

Beyond Our Wounds and Limps

One dark night 3576 years ago a mysterious battle took place, which left a great man wounded, but intact. This battle embodies the persecutions throughout history – the battles of life, the perpetual struggle with evil, both collective and personal.

In most dramatic terms, this week’s Torah portion relates the story how “Jacob remained alone and a stranger wrestled with him until the break of dawn. When he saw that he could not defeat him, he touched the upper joint of Jacob’s thigh. Jacob’s hip joint became dislocated as he wrestled with him.” As a result Jacob “was limping because of his thigh. The Israelites therefore do not eat the displaced [sciatic] nerve on the hip joint to this very day because he [the stranger] touched Jacob’s thigh on the displaced nerve” (Genesis 32:25-33).

Volumes have been written to explain this strange episode. The focus of this column will be on the psycho-spiritual application of this classic wrestle, between Jacob and the stranger – Esau’s guardian angel.

Jacob and Esau are archetypes of the two polar forces in existence which stand in perpetual battle: Spirit and matter, the scholar and the warrior – the body’s selfish survival drive and the soul’s yearning for transcendence. (see The Dust of History).

Within each of us we have both these voices tugging at us in opposite directions. Virtually every choice we make poses two options: Should I take care of my own needs or should I help another? Should I be a taker or a giver? Am I here to serve myself or to serve a higher cause? Each of us is wrestling, in one way or another, with a “stranger.”

However, the battle is not always with the same intensity; it goes through stages – night and day. The dark night represents the sinister. The morning light epitomizes the bright. We live in a dark universe, which shrouds the inner light of spirit. Transcendence in this material world is not easily gained. Yet, each of us experiences sacred moments when we feel spiritually strong.

When darkness falls and our souls are in a lull, when we cannot see clearly and our senses are numbed – we then become vulnerable to the material forces that attack at our very integrity.

Jacob’s wrestling with Esau’s angel through the night represents all the battles of our lives, beginning with the biggest battle of them all – between the material and the spiritual.

The tension between matter and spirit is deep and difficult. Yet even then, the soul (Jacob) cannot be defeated. But the material forces are relentless. Even when the essence of our beings cannot be hurt, matter’s inherent narcissism “touches” our extremities – the part of your life which is vulnerable and exposed to the elements.

As the Zohar explains: The angel saw that Jacob was strong throughout – protected on both sides by his fathers, Abraham and Isaac, and he could not defeat him. So he attacked and wounded his thigh – the part that protrudes from and is outside of the body (Zohar I 146a. 171a).

The hip joint represents the link between our higher faculties (mind and heart) and our actions. The legs, which connect us to the ground, characterize our involvement with the material universe, our struggle to survive.

The structure of the human body parallels our faculties. The body divides into three sections, head, torso and legs, corresponding to our faculties – mind, emotion and implementation.

[According to the spheratic structure of the mystics, the building blocks of all existence consist of ten spheres, divided into three categories: The mind, which entails Chochma, Binah and Daas (conception, comprehension and intimate knowledge). The heart contains the higher emotions – Chesed, Gevurah, Tiferet (love, discipline, compassion). And the legs – from the hips down – represent the lower emotions, Netzach, Hod, Yesod and Malchut (endurance, yielding, bonding and dignity), which are primarily on the implementation level].

Optimally, a true commitment requires a total investment, wholemindedly and wholeheartedly – with all our faculties. Only then, are we immunized against predators.

“When he saw that he could not defeat him” – because the higher faculties of Jacob were completely protected – “he touched the upper joint of his thigh”, which connects to the legs, representing our mechanical behaviors and commitments. When a person acts mechanically, and his behavior is hollow – lacking intellectual intensity and emotional passion – he is at his most vulnerable. And that’s where the crass forces of materialism attack and have the power to injure.

The enemy always goes after our weakest link, our blind spots.

[In the Talmud (Chulin 91a) there are two opinions which of Jacob’s thighs were hurt – the right thigh or both thighs. The consensus is both thighs. The Kabbalists discuss the contradiction in the Zohar. In one place it states that the Jacob’s wound was in Netzach, the right thigh, and in another place it says that it was Hod, the left thigh (see Pardes gate 17, “Jacob’s Thigh.” Arizal – Taamei HaMitzvot on this week’s portion. Explained in Derech Mitzvosecho, Mitzvat Gid Hanoshe)].

Spiritually and psychologically speaking: Nothing can harm you when you are on a spiritual high and feel strong and committed to your higher calling; when your mind and heart and actions are all aligned. But then there are times when we may feel overwhelmed by the struggle for material survival, overcome by material pressures, and spiritually disconnected. In times like this, we are vulnerable and prone to be wounded in the process of the struggle.

We therefore have to acknowledge this weak spot, by recognizing and remembering Jacob’s wound. The beginning of all healing is awareness of the problem. Thus we refrain from “eating the displaced nerve on the hip joint to this very day” (the sciatic nerve, the large main nerve of the lower extremity running down the back of the leg). We are sensitive to the fact that our mindless immersion in material existence leaves us wounded.

But Jacob’s experience also tells us that despite the wound, we remain intact and cannot be defeated. Moreover, we ultimately will be healed. Just as the sun came out and began to heal Jacob, until he was entirely healed (see Rashi 33:18), we too will be healed in the dawn of redemption.

As it is in the microcosm of our personal struggles, so is it in the macrocosm of global battles: The stranger’s night-long battle with Jacob refers to the long history of Jewish persecution. In the words of the Midrash: During the night of Exile, the nations of the world and the kingdom of Edom (Esau) wrestle with Jacob, until the dawn of redemption (Midrash Lekach Tov).

When the “stranger” touched – struck – Jacob’s hip socket, “he touched the tzaddikim and tzidkoniyot (the righteous men and women), the prophets and the prophetesses, that will spring from him [Jacob] in the future, specifically in the generation of the Roman persecution after the Temple’s destruction (Bereishis Rabba 77:3). Jacob’s wound is a collective scar resulting from all the battles of history. As Nachmanides explains: This episode refers to all the suffering and persecutions that the children of Jacob would endure at the hands of the children of Esau. Despite their horrible suffering, and deep wounds, they would prevail. Even the wounds that they would endure would ultimately heal, as it was by Jacob, in the final redemption (Ramban 32:25. Chinuch Mitzvah 3).

The Zohar adds a fascinating dimension in explaining the verse “The Israelites therefore do not eat the displaced nerve on the hip joint to this very day” because he [the stranger] touched Jacob’s thigh on the displaced nerve.” The Hebrew original for “the displaced nerve” is “at gid hanoshe.” “At” (alef tof) is an acronym for Tisha b’Av – the saddest day of the calendar, when we fast to remember the destruction of the temple by the Romans, the descendants of Esau. Thus the verse contains a profound foresight: The stranger – the angel of Esau, ancestor of the Romans – “touched Jacob’s thigh on the displaced nerve,” and as a result destroyed the Holy Temple and displaced the Jewish people in the long exile. As a result of this wound, “the Israelites therefore do not eat – on Tisha B’av, which corresponds to – the displaced nerve on the hip joint, to this very day.”

The Akeidat Yitzchak takes this a step further: The entire phrase, “at gid hanoshe,” alludes to the four fast days in the year which commemorate the Temple’s destruction by the children of Esau: “at” – Tisha b’Av. “Gid” is gimmel, yud, dalet – gimmel is the 3rd of Tishrei (the Fast of Gedalia), yud – the 10th of Tevet, dalet – the 4th month (Tammuz), referring to the 17th of Tammuz (“gid” the numerical equivalent of 17), and “hanoshe” is the same letters as “hashone” (the year). Thus the verse reads, that due to the wound left by Esau, we “do not eat” on these four days in the year, which embody in time the dimension of the “displaced nerve.”

Broadly speaking, the confrontation between Rome and Jerusalem, and in general the head-on conflict between matter and spirit, is a grueling battle, leaving us limping with deep wounds.

Is there a person on earth that does not carry a wound or two? How many of us are limping – even if we may know how to hide the fact – from the imbalance in our lives, the dissonance between our spirits and our bodies, between our higher ideals and the pressures of survival?

Each of us is wrestling with the conflicting forces in our lives.

But the dawn always comes. And after all the battles, the “stranger” recognizes that he cannot prevail over our spirit. So he attacks our weakest point; our doubts, our tenuous commitments, our mechanical activities. He wounds the part of us that is immersed in the “means” – in work and making a living, where we are most likely to be disconnected from our souls.

Yet, even these wounds will heal. Jacob forces the “stranger” to bless him, and all of us. Ironically, the “stranger” – the “angel” and power of materialism itself – even as it wounds us also blesses us with the name “Israel” – you will prevail over man and the Divine. Built into the very wound is the power to heal from any wound, whether it be man-made or Divine-made!

Where do we stand now?

After all the history of human suffering, we have prevailed. We are here – and the world has become a more refined place.

We are hurt but intact. Wounded, limping, handicapped, we are close to the finish line of our grueling journey.

A battle that began 3576 years ago is about to come to an end.

We are now asked to hold on, just as those before us have held on, to never become resigned, to know that despite all the challenges and the wounds, we will be victorious – both personally and collectively.


Sources: Zohar I 146a. 170a. Rekanti on this week’s Parsha. Shaloh Mesechta Taanis. Derech Mitzvosecho Mitzvat Gid Hanoshe.