The Thing is Very Close To You: A Reflection
Document Actions
by Rabbi Amy Eilberg
My High Holy Day prepara-tion began early this year, in an unlikely way. It was June-far before the spiritually rarefied days of Elul (the month preceding the Jewish holy days of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, focused on self-examination and repentance), and the setting was a mostly-Christian prayer retreat for spiritual directors.Sitting in a large circle, we were asked to close our eyes, notice our breathing for a moment, and allow mental chatter to quiet down. Then, as though this were the simplest of questions, the retreat leader asked us to go inside and find the place where God's Spirit lives within us.
Remarkably, with just the slightest effort, I was able to locate such a place within my own body. I had a visceral sensation of God's Presence deep inside my chest, as if there were an enormous expanse all around my heart, a beautiful, silent sanctuary. I literally felt a sense of the Divine filling that space. Just as remarkably, when I have since had the chance to ask others this question, each person found her own unique sacred place within. One woman said she located the Divine Presence right near her womb, another said she felt God moving through her arteries.
Of course, God's Glory pervades all of creation, not only particular places within our own bodies. Yet, in this experience, I learned that it is possible to transform the concept of the tselem Elokim (the image of God) from just an idea or intellectual construct to a vivid personal experience, grounded in my own body. I learned that the exquisite description of God's closeness in this week's Torah portion is not mere poetry but real.
"Surely, this commandment which I give you this day is not too wondrous for you, nor is it beyond reach. It is not in the heavens, that you should say, 'Who among us can go up to the heavens and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?' Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, 'Who among us can cross to the other side of the sea and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?' No, the thing is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to observe it." (Deuteronomy 30:11-14)
In the experience I described, I was privileged to sense for a moment the literal truth of this magnificent text. The Divine is not only far away, on a heavenly throne, perceptible only in the midst of miraculous events to which none of us has access. The Spirit is surely present in the grandeur of creation, in the large mysteries of life, in the power of truth and justice and freedom. And the Presence is also right here, in the center of my body and yours and everyone's, literally in the midst of every aspect of Creation.
I have interpreted this beautiful text to describe the radical nearness of the Divine. But the Torah points to the exquisite accessibility of this mitzvah (commandment)-understood by various commentators to refer to all of the commandments, the Torah itself, or, the particular sacred practice of teshuva (self-examination, repentance, turning).
Think of these verses as referring to the process of examining our lives at this holy season, and it conveys a message something like this: Don't think that this [work of self-examination and repentance] is too hard for you, too distant from your way of life, only suited to your grandparents or to pious, poetic souls. Don't think that you would have to travel to an impossibly distant place-to be a different person-to live this teaching fully. You can do it, right here, in the midst of your life. It is in your own mouth, in your own heart, as near as your own breath. You need only choose it.
If the "image of God" is a reality, not a mere concept, if we embody a spark of the spirit of truth and goodness, then we don't need to go far to find out what it is that we need to do this holiday season. If God speaks within our own hearts and bodies and souls, as the Torah teaches, then we need only get quiet and listen, and we will know in what ways we need to change, and in what ways we are already living lives that are true and holy.
As Rebbe Nachman of Bratslav (the Hasidic master) puts it, only the road to hell is difficult and bitter, requiring days without rest and sleepless nights. The road to Eden, he says, is short and sweet. Teshuva (the holy work of self-examination) is a coming home to who we already are, if we can but recognize it.
May this season usher in a new season of goodness, blessing and peace, for us and for all the world.
Rabbi Amy Eilberg is a Conservative rabbi who serves as a pastoral counselor and spiritual director in Palo Alto, California. She is currently in Shalem's Spiritual Guidance Program, Summer 2002 class. This reflection was originally published as a weekly Bible column in the Northern California Jewish Bulletin.
© 2008 The Shalem Institute.