When I can’t sleep, I often free verse / wax poetic about whatever’s on my mind. It’s always interesting reading it the next morning. Here’s one from the other night:
—-
The world
is full
of enough
dissonance
produce
melody
perform
alchemy
sift the good notes
from the bad
the serene
from the siren song
step in rhythm
grow in concert
we are all notes
in this
divine
orchestra
of existence
—-
It seems we all want to be one with our natural state and the spaces we are in — content, fulfilled, thriving. That would seem to be enough, but the truth is we want more than that— we want to transcend this natural state, to not be bound by the limitations and constrictions of this world, a world where the good is always intertwined with a bit of “bad”. Only in the next world is good 100% and bad is not even a concept. When I was a kid, and even today, when I walk out of the theater after seeing a superhero movie, I feel like I have those powers, if only for a little bit. The allure of these comic books turned movies is the thought of breaking free of one’s limitations, of ridding oneself of reality, of turning what is natural into supernatural.
In these past parshiot, we have been reading about the Mishkan (the tabernacle) and how Hashem commanded Aharon, the high priest, and his sons to bring special sacrifices for seven days to prepare themselves for their service in the Mishkan. Every seven days, Moshe would take the Mishkan apart and put it back together, as the Jews wandered through the desert on their way to the Promised Land. In this week’s parashah, Shemini, Hebrew for “eight” (referring to the eighth day following the seven days of the inauguration of the Tabernacle), we learn that the service of the Mishkan actually begins on the “eighth” day.
As we read, “And it was on the eighth day . . . and the glory of the Lord appeared to all the people . . . And fire went forth from before the Lord and consumed the burnt offering and the fats upon the altar, and all the people saw, sang praises, and fell upon their faces.”
The Kli Yakar, a preeminent Medieval Torah scholar, asks why it’s called the “eighth day.” The Jewish week is seven days, and the consecration of the Mishkan was limited to seven days, as it is written, “And you shall not go out of the door of the tent of meeting for seven days, until the days of your consecration be fulfilled, for He shall consecrate you seven days.” The Kli Yakar answers his own question, stating that related to the eighth day it is written, “Today the Lord appears to you.” Hashem doesn’t appear in the Mishkan during the seven days of consecration but on and because of the eighth day, a day beyond the natural order of things.
Seven is a recurring number in the Torah representing the natural order: seven days of the week; the month of the festivals is Tishrei, the seventh month of the Hebrew calendar; and we have seven-year cycles, culminating in Shemittah (the Sabbatical year). As we learn, seven in Judaism always represents completeness of the natural world, the finite world; so eight, of course, is that one step beyond nature, something more than human, more than finititude– something holy. Shabbat, the seventh day of our week, is a taste of the infinite, but it’s still bound in time and space. It’s a gift from Hashem that we even get that taste, as it is stated in Talmud Shabbat, “The Holy One, blessed be He, said to Moshe, I have a precious gift in My treasure house, and it is called the Shabbat.” The eighth day represents a taste beyond this world.
I can’t put all that I wrote in this little taste of the Dvar, you’ll have to read it at the link below, but the biggest takeaway from this parashah for me is that when we elevate our soul above our body, aligning our physical selves to our spiritual selves we can transform our natural space into a supernatural setting.
READ IT IN FULL @ https://lightofinfinite.com/step-in-rhythm-grow-in-concert/