I do a lot of reading. Between novels, emails, subscriptions to news media, my beloved New York Times, and countless other options, I am in a constant state of perusal. The spigot is broken as the words cascade into my email and pile up on my desk. So much to read, so little time…
In addition to the almost limitless sources listed above, I receive a few listservs: daily, weekly, and monthly missives from various organizations. One of the ones I enjoy reading is from a Jewish spirituality institute with which I was involved. The institute has a special place in my heart. I gained some beautiful insights from the teachers and my fellow participants on various retreats and subsequent study sessions.
I remember returning from one of the retreats lit up with Jewish spiritual practice, infused with some new Jew-Bu (a mash-up of Jewish and Buddhist philosophies) vocabulary. I was asked to do a d’var Torah for the TBA executive committee, I think, and went on a Jewish mystical tangent. I sat down, feeling the afterglow of spiritual engagement, when Patti B. of blessed memory, leaned over the table and said to me, sotto voce, “What the hell was that all about?”
Yes, spirituality can be difficult to teach to those not entirely fluent in the language or concepts of the transcendent. It can sound fuzzy and utterly disconnected from the world. It sometimes seems naïve. Pejoratively, it is said to be “crunchy” and unsubstantial.
That’s why I take the time to read the listserv—it can be crunchy—and I like that. The concepts I learned 25 years ago fundamentally shaped my religious practice and theology. But I am a very different Jew, rabbi, and human now, so it’s not surprising that some of the things I read on the listserv are not in my spiritual realm.
This listserv is generally not a contentious space. We tend to be chill, spiritually adroit, and not prone to critique others. We learn early on that while each one of us has our own unique spiritual interiority, Jewish spirituality emphasizes finding the sacred within community rather than in isolation. Even private prayer is often phrased in the plural “we” rather than “I.” Mutual respect becomes a spiritual imperative.
So it struck me when there was a dust-up last week. A leading personality in the institute’s past and present, whom I will call Leah (I’m using a pseudonym to avoid any gossip), sent in an entry to the listserv. This is how it began: “Here’s what I know: Nothing is wrong. This physical dimension (out of the infinite dimensions of Being) is designed to facilitate the deepening of love and the awakening of Unity consciousness, often through challenge.” I understand Leah’s Buddhist teaching here. Don’t get confused by the specific shape of an argument or the actions of others. Don’t get sucked into foolishness or malicious arguments, or hateful rhetoric. Rise to the higher dimension of love, and don’t be misled by lower dimensional artifices. Don’t engage in the murky realm of self-interest.
But Leah’s transcendental configuration was not gratefully received by all. And let me be very quick to point out that Leah is only goodness, music, and life-affirmation. She was not seeking to hurt anyone. But there were a few responses that gutted me. They were from the families of trans kids who are beside themselves with worry and fear. Reading “nothing is wrong” is not only NOT comforting; they are words that feel ignorant and uninformed.
With this nothing is wrong logic, we could successfully argue that this planet Earth, this little blue marble, is one infinitesimally tiny, insignificant blur on the face of the Milky Way whose disappearance would mean nothing to the galaxy. But it would mean something to us. This is all we’ve got, so it all counts.
Nothing is wrong works in one’s spiritual practice. It’s a journal entry, a phrase to repeat while meditating. From 1000 miles up in space, nothing is wrong. From a dojo or a retreat center, nothing is wrong. But right here in this world so filled with woe and fear, a world where we aren’t sure what pages may be torn up, to say nothing is wrong feels dismissive and opaque. Something is wrong, and we’re the ones who have to try to fix it.
Before Shabbat 