From the Pulpit: Living mindfully is at the heart of Judaism

Rabbi Idan Scher

By Rabbi Idan Scher

Machzikei Hadas

I have been thinking a lot about being present, about really living. It seems as if a lack of living in the moment has forever been a human malady, but at this point in time, with technology glued to our bodies, it sometimes feels as if we are about to implode.

We spend an unbelievable amount of time on our phones. And as we look out for our next Instagram photo op, we often miss what is right in front of us.

It’s like the joke I heard first from an Ottawa rabbi: Someone was at a funeral and he asked the officiating rabbi for the Wi-Fi password. “Have some respect for the dead!” the rabbi said. “Thanks Rabbi, is that all lowercase?”

Unfortunately this joke is inching ever closer to reality.

I think the description of Rabbeinu Behaye, the mystic, philosopher and ethicist of the 11th century, is the best description of them all: “pizur hanefesh (the scattering of our soul or our spirit).” We are scattered and we are missing the peaceful soul, the equilibrium, the reflectiveness, that couldn’t be more important for who we are.

And it’s not like we aren’t realizing this.

Apple’s app of the year pick for 2017 was Calm, a meditation and relaxation aid based on mindfulness that is now valued at close to $1 billion.

Living mindfully, in the present, has been at the heart of Judaism from the very beginning.

Just take a look at some of the most significant parts of our religious practice.

Prayer strategically placed three times a day – a time to stop and think and reflect on who we are and where we are going, a time to refocus and recalibrate.

Shabbat, what a brilliant construct. The Tech Sabbath is becoming more and more popular but Judaism brought this concept to the world. A day unplugged. A day of reflection. A day of experiencing the here and now, our loved ones and our spirituality. There has been no more powerful tool in the history of mankind in inspiring living in the moment than Shabbat.

Or we think of berakhot (blessings). We are told of the benefit of saying 100 blessings a day and this should come as no surprise.

Because blessings are those moments of reflection. They are moments that allow us to refocus and soak in the richness of the experience we are about to have.

And as Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan – one of the most prolific English-language Jewish authors, who died way too young at the age of 48 and gave the layperson access to so much wisdom and many texts that were previously inaccessible – explained, a comparative study of meditative methods shows that the Jewish systems may have been among the most advanced in the world.

And these few examples are just the tip of the iceberg.

Judaism is about really living. Living with our hearts and eyes open, ready to soak in all of the wonders of existence being present has to offer.

Like those beautiful words of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel: “The beginning of our happiness lies in the understanding that life without wonder is not worth living. What we lack is not a will to believe but a will to wonder.”

From the Pulpit: We are all in this together

Rabbi Idan Scher, Machzikei Hadas

By Rabbi Idan Scher

Congregation Machzikei Hadas

Sometimes you read a story and it seems so simple. But on reflection, you realize how powerful it actually is. That happened to me when I read this little fable:

There was once an old farmer living on his farm with his animals. One day, a mouse looked through a crack in the wall to see the farmer and his wife open a package. He was devastated to discover it was a mousetrap.

Retreating to the farmyard, the mouse proclaimed the warning to all of his fellow animals. “There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!”

The chicken heard the mouse’s warning, raised her head and said, “Mr. Mouse, I can tell this is of grave concern to you, but it is of no consequence to me. A mousetrap won’t trap me. I cannot be bothered by it.”

The mouse turned to the sheep and told him, “There is a mousetrap in the house.”

The sheep sympathized, but said, “I am so very sorry, Mr. Mouse, but there is nothing I can do about it but pray for you. Be assured you are in my prayers. But honestly, I am little affected by it.”

The mouse turned to the cow and pleaded for help. She said, “Mr. Mouse. I’m sorry for you, trust me you will be in my thoughts and prayers.”

So, the mouse returned to the house, head down and dejected, to face the farmer’s mousetrap alone.

That very night a sound was heard throughout the house – like the sound of a mousetrap catching its prey. The farmer’s wife rushed to see what was caught. In the darkness, she did not see it was a venomous snake whose tail the trap had caught.

The snake bit the farmer’s wife. The farmer rushed her to the hospital, and she returned home with a fever.

Now of course, hot chicken soup is the best medicine for a fever. So the farmer walked off to the farmyard to fetch the soup’s main ingredient.

But his wife’s sickness continued, so friends and neighbours came to sit with her around the clock. To feed all of the visitors, the farmer slaughtered the sheep.

The farmer’s wife did not get well and she passed away. So many people came for her funeral the farmer had to have the cow slaughtered to provide enough meat for all of them.

We pray every day. And on the High Holy Days, which are soon upon us, we pray even more. And so many of our prayers are not said in the singular only for ourselves. Rather, they are said in the plural, for all of humanity.

But as we pray, and as we pledge allegiance to this holy endeavour of caring about others, it cannot be just lip service – “You are in my thoughts and prayers.” Radical and active empathy is called for, just as if we or someone very close to us was suffering. This story warns us that if we don’t take this seriously then we ourselves may eventually be struck, because we are all in this together. But more importantly, as much as we may try to convince ourselves otherwise, if we truly cared about our fellow human beings we would respond to their suffering just as we would respond to the suffering of someone who we are very close with.

This High Holy Day season is the time to open our hearts and to truly be there for those that so badly need it.