Finding Out Who You Really Are

This week’s Torah portion is Bemidbar, the first portion in the book of Numbers. Bemidbar means, “in the wilderness,” but Numbers gets its name from the commandment to number, or take a census of, the Israelites. In this portion, a plan of encampments is also given, with the ark containing the tablets of the Ten Commandments in the center, the Levites camping around the tablets, and the other tribes camping around the Levites. The Levites are designated to replace the firstborn, and are assigned tasks for transporting the tabernacle, being given temple service as their occupation. One verse begins: (3:6) “Bring near the tribes of Levi and have them stand before Aaron the Kohen and they shall serve him; and they shall safeguard his charge, or his guarding, and the charge of the entire assembly before the Tent of Meeting, before the service of the Tabernacle.” Rashi comments on this verse, quoting from the Talmud, (Megilla 13b) “But my assignment and your assignment are not the same.” It seems like an obvious statement, and yet a deeper subject is being introduced here, involving our uniqueness and our destiny. Rabbi Gelberman used to say that the Eleventh Commandment is, “Thou shall have a purpose.” But what is our purpose? How do we find and identify it? One of the Chassidic masters, Rabbi Pinchas of Korzek (as quoted by the S’fat Emet) said, “Each of us becomes excited by a different quality or aspect of life and possibly of religious life; and this is reflected in the may ways of understanding God,” as we say in the Amidah, God of Abraham, God of Sarah, God of Isaac, God of Rebecca, etc. Because we are alive, each of us is fulfilling a very special and holy purpose, because if we didn’t have a purpose, there would be no reason for us to have been created; but we aren’t told what that purpose is. It is up to us to embark on a process of discovery, because only we can fulfill the unique task that we’ve been given. We all contribute differently. Some of you may know the teaching that when we humans make many of the same thing: coins, or cars, or can openers, we make them all alike, but when God makes many of the same, each one is different.
In this portion that begins with a commandment to take a census and count the Israelites, the word, count: pakod, as noted by Rabbi Elimelech, also means raise. We are asked to raise ourselves, leading ourselves to be in tune with our inner yearning for giving and wholeness. Rabbi Arthur Green puts it beautifully: “the soul is holy and Torah is a holy teaching, a mirror held up to allow the soul to uncover the great depth that lies within.” The triumph of living life as a human being is that we can safeguard those qualities which are unique within us, our special talents, our inner appetites for certain kinds of learning and achievement, and our potential for spiritual and moral growth. Rabbi Elimelech quotes a teaching based on the Prophet Zechariah (3:7) which says that angels are called omdim, standing, because they don’t grow or learn from their tasks; they can’t change; they can only do what they have been sent to carry out; whereas humans are called me’haleich, from the word, lech, going or walking. We are not permitted to stand still. It is our destiny to move forward, as in Norman Mailer’s famous quotation, "For there was that law of life, so cruel and so just, which demanded that one must change or pay more for staying the same."
Bemidbar beckons us to the great wilderness of our own minds and hearts. It whispers to us, “find out who you really are – not who you are at this moment, but who you are capable of becoming and what is your own special service in the world. Don’t stand in one place like an angel, go forward like a human being, full of promise and dignity; and you will be counted among the holy and blessed who have fulfilled their unique purpose, being of great value to others and to God. Our capacity for learning, developing, and rising to great heights is unlimited. Take a step into the unknown: the world of the soul; the terrain of unconditional service and love, and there you will discover yourself.

Joining the Human Race

This week’s Torah portion is Behar, which means, on the Mountain. Behar gives us the laws for the Sabbath of the land, which occurs every seven years, and for the Jubilee, every 50th year. At the Jubilee, the land was to return to its original, ancestral owners, slaves were freed, loans were forgiven, and liberty was proclaimed for all inhabitants, the sentence inscribed on our Liberty Bell in Philadelphia. In this portion we are told that the land belongs to God and that we belong to God. Then there are laws to prevent poverty, such as the necessity to buy back land that was sold out of dire economic need, and the responsibility to help a relative who becomes impoverished.
Tonight I’d like to draw your attention to one verse in Behar which reads, “If your brother becomes impoverished and his hand falters with you, you shall hold onto him, stranger and resident, so that he can live with you.” This quotation features the word, Brother, achicha, which appears in the portion six times and also the words, with you, imach, which appears in this portion more than 10 times. The point being made here is the same as in the Shema – that God is one and that we are all brothers and sisters for each other – that we are all a part of each other and of God. This quotation actually answers the question posed by Cain about his brother Abel, Am I my brother’s keeper? The answer of course is yes, we are all our brother’s keepers. Each person is responsible fro every other person.
When my younger son was about five years old, I once said something about the human race. He asked me, Mommy, are they still racing? I laughed and then explained what human race meant, but since then I have thought about his question and I think there is a kind of wisdom in what he asked. There are different levels of joining the human race. Some people are like out of town members who would like to be aloof and live apart from others, not having a full fledged membership. Others are donating but inactive members who prefer to contribute financially but not participate personally. And then there are those who are fully engaged – full members of the human race with their sisters and brothers. This exemplifies that teaching in Leviticus which is a distant goal and which we are asked to struggle for all our lives: Love your neighbor as yourself. But how can we even begin to move in that direction? It seems like such a hopeless task. Moses is our great teacher in this area. The Torah says, “Now the man Moses was exceedingly humble, more than any person on the face of the earth.” Moses loved his people He volunteered to sacrifice his life for them to win forgiveness on their behalf. Luckily God did not accept his offer, but forgave the people anyway. God gave Moses two opportunities to abandon the people and start a new nation, after they had sinned, but Moses never would walk away from them. He repeatedly threw his fate in with theirs. Moses was only able to do this because of his humility. One of the great Chassidic rabbis, Rabbi Elimelech, wrote about his quality of humility. He cites a story from the Talmud that all the mountains gathered together before God and asked that they be chosen to serve as the place for the giving of the Torah. God answered them, “you are all blemished compared with Mt. Sinai.” Rabbi Elimech, in the name of the Arizal (Rabbi Isaac Luria) asked, “what is Mt. Sinai’s great quality? It’s the lowest and most humble of all the mountains, teaching us that Torah can only be given to one who is humble and (who chooses to) lower himself… that is why Moses was able to receive the Torah directly from God.” The Torah makes clear in an earlier verse in Behar, that from God’s point of view, we are all alike. “The land is Mine; for you are sojourners and residents with me.” And also, “for the children of Israel are servants to me, they are my servants.” In other words, To God we are all alike. It is only the walls of our own egos that keep us from loving and accepting each other. The Karliner Rebbe taught it this way: “When someone falls in to mud, we must jump into the mud to save him. So it is when your brother stretches out his hand in need, put yourself in him place and save him.” These teachings are also echoed by Jesus, who taught the very same Torah concepts: (Mat 5:5) “ Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. (Mat 5:3) “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (Mat 19:24) “…it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God!” (Mat 5:39) But I tell you not to resist an evildoer. On the contrary, whoever slaps you on the right cheek, turn the other to him as well.” All these teachings tell us that we must actively strive to break down the walls of ego we have erected which keep us from connecting with each other. We can emulate our great teachers and sages and pursue humility. It is only by working to join the Human race so that we can stop racing to overtake and best each other that we can begin to walk toward loving each other. Then we will experience the true goodness and blessing of being fully human, a full member of the human race. Then will we be true brothers and sisters and the world will be so much better for it.

Israel: The Spiritual and the Temporal

As we celebrate 63 years of Israel’s existence, it’s important to ask ourselves about the meaning of Israel: why we are there: What it means to us; and also to think about what it might mean to God. We know that Israel is precious to us – to our sense of dignity as Jews in the world, that we have our own country back at last, after 2,000 years of exile. It is also a safe haven to those who are persecuted: all Jews, but also, many people of other cultures and nations who are at political risk – risk of death and torture in their countries. The U.N. notes that Israel is a safe haven for refugees. The film, Strangers No More, that won the Oscar for documentary short at the 83rd Academy Awards this February, is about an Israeli School that educates Christian, Muslim, Jewish children from 48 countries.
But for what purpose have we been returned to this very tiny spot on the earth? Is it to demonstrate that a modern, democratic society can flourish in the Mideast? Is it to make peace with our Arab Neighbors and begin to bring about the messianic era? Possibly both of these. The Torah, (Deut 7:7) adds this reason: “Not because you were more numerous than all the peoples did God desire you and choose you; for you are the fewest of all peoples; Rather because of God’s love for you, and because God keeps the oath sworn to your ancestors, has God brought you out with a mighty hand, and redeemed you from the house of slavery, from the hand of Pharaoh king of Egypt. You must know that the Eternal your God, is God, the faithful God, who safeguards the covenant and kindness with those who love God and observe the commandments to a thousand generations;… You shall keep the commandments, the statutes, and the ordinances, which I command you this day, to do them.”
Perhaps one of the reasons we are there is linked the Aleinu prayer: that of giving us a unique mission – of bearing witness to the blessings that flow from the pursuit of holiness in the world. In this week’s Torah portion, Emor, we are given many commandments that, taken together, help us to develop an inner fineness of feeling for each other and for God. We must not be limited by the temporal politics of our time, although they are important. As Jews and as supporters of Israel, we must always keep our wits about us, and have one foot firmly planted on earth while we have the other foot in heaven. We will never be only a temporal society, for if we ever do, we will supersede the very important reason for our existence: to bear witness to the connection between the spiritual and the temporal, to bear witness to righteousness, to preserve Torah, and to be bearers of light, of caring, and of goodness in the world. As we worry about our Arab neighbors, may we pray for them and send them our love, that their peace and prosperity be our peace and prosperity: that their freedom will be turned to goodness and our freedom always be used for goodness and blessing.

Removing the Barriers

This week’s Torah portion is Acharei Mot, which means, after the deaths. Aaron’s two sons have died and he is told he can only enter the holiest place once a year, on Yom Kippur. This portion gives instructions for the Yom Kippur service, the ritual of the two goats, one an offering and one to carry the sins of the people away. There is a law here that all food animals should be presented as offerings before being cooked and eaten, and there is a concluding section about forbidden marriages.
I’d like to begin with a question; What separates us from God? The Torah’s answer in this portion is that our own impurity separates us. This is illustrated by a passage from the Zohar, “A river went forth from Eden (Gen. II:10).. in the book of Rab Hamnuna the Elder it is called Life, because life issues thence to the world. … the great and mighty Tree in which is food for all is called the Tree of Life, because its roots are in that Life…the river sends forth deep streams with the oil of plenitude to water the Garden and feed the trees and the shoots.…When The Shechinah and the time of righteousness are joined, all worlds have gladness and blessing, and there is peace among upper and lower beings. But when through the sins of this world there are no blessings from these streams, and the “time” sucks from the “other side”, then judgment impends over the world and there is no peace. (III 58a)This passage tells us that we would be fully joined to God but for our own thoughts, words, and deeds. The Zohar continues with Rabbi Simeon credited as saying: “I am amazed to see how little people pay heed to the will of their Master, and how they allow themselves to be wrapped in sleep until the day comes which will cover them with darkness, and when their Master will demand reckoning from them. The Torah calls aloud to them, but none inclines his ear. Mark now that in future generations the Torah will be forgotten… (III, 58a)” This passage indicates that our wrongs, transgressions, and sins are a kind of willful forgetting of what we should be doing. The Torah makes clear that the high priest, the holiest person in the nation, with the exception of Moses, must confess his sins and seek forgiveness numerous times: once for himself, once again for his entire household, and a third time for all the Israelites, in accordance with a selection from Talmud (Yoma 36b) which says that atonement can be with words and with actions, which for him was the sacrificial service.
If our imperfections separate us, us there a way to remove that barrier? The Torah does provide a way to begin to remove the separation. We can initially look at the priest and learn something from his situation. The priest presided over many people bringing sacrifices. He saw people confessing to their actions and errors of judgment. Perhaps this had a good effect on the priest, who may have learned from the people he was meant to teach and minister to. Perhaps he would feel that if those he helped were big enough and wise enough to confess, that he would be encouraged to confess. Also the priest might gradually become more aware of his own shortcomings, come to a fuller realization of his mistakes and want to confess.
We can be sure that if we are not aware of our many shortcomings, God will help us to recognize areas in which we should grow. Just as with the high priest, atonement and repentance provide a way to repair our behavior. They do this by reopening the channels of our love that we have closed off. By engaging in repentance, we signal that we are ready to be forgiven, that we are ready to receive love, because we are ready to give it again. Since our negative behavior prevents us from connecting with God and each other, admitting our less worthy actions is a ritual that begins the cleansing process. However, there is a further step we can take to remove the separation between us and God. One of my favorite teachings from Exodus is that any labor we perform that is not dedicated to a holy purpose goes to waste. We can work and work but it is wasted. This is taught by the offering of a food animal in substitution for a firstborn work animal, like a donkey, which cannot be eaten. Since all firstborn male animals belong to God, if we don’t offer a food animal in its place, the law is that it must be killed, that is, wasted. We never get to benefit from our labor. So dedication: dedicating our work and our efforts to helping: helping each other and helping God – helping the Universe – can bring us closer in our relationship with the Divine Presence. The Chassidic sages also offer some advice. Rabbi Schneur Zalman stresses service. The Baal Shem Tov and R. Dovid Talener say, come before God without arrogance, with humility. And another teaching was suggested as we were studying the prophet Haggai in our Wednesday night study session. We read that when the people returned to Jerusalem from their exile in Babylon, Haggai urged them to rebuild the Temple. He said: “Is this a time for you yourselves to sit in your paneled houses? Set your heart to consider your ways. You have sown much but bring in little.” In other words, think about why you are here. This is also a teaching for us. Why are we here? Is it only to eat and drink and enjoy life and then to pass away? Being human means that we have been given a precious gift: that we are here to dedicate ourselves to a higher purpose. As human beings we can refine ourselves and be of help and of service. We are meant to engage in the work of removing the barriers between us and God, seeking forgiveness, purifying ourselves, so that we can improve ourselves and the world and become more of a blessing. We can wake up and remember that we are part of the refining process that will ultimately lead to the Messianic era. May this season of Pesach usher in a new resolve: a rebirth of our capacity to rededicate ourselves to a holy purpose for which we were created and redeemed.

Inside and Outside

This week’s Torah portion is Metzora, which means one who has Tzaraat, a contagious skin disease. This portion describes the ritual of purification for one who has had such a skin disease. It also speaks about ways that people can become ritually contaminated through discharges of body fluid, and it gives instructions for what to do about mold in houses. The imagery of the purification ritual is somewhat strange. Two birds were brought by the person seeking atonement. That person also brought a piece of cedar wood, a length of red wool, folded into a few strands, and a branch of hyssop, a spongy-leafed shrub. One bird was killed over a basin of water. Then the live bird, the wood, and the red wool were dipped in the blood of the bird that was killed. The blood was also sprinkled on the person seeking purification. Then the live bird was set free. Seven days later the person was to shave and immerse clothing and body. On the next day, the eighth day, the person brought a second offering: animals if they could afford it, flour for a meal offering, and oil. These were sin and guilt offerings. The blood of the offerings and some of the oil was put on the person’s big right toe, right thumb, and right ear.
What can this imagery possibly say to us? The two birds are reminiscent of the scapegoat ritual of Yom Kippur, in which two identical goats where brought before the priest. The priest laid hands on the goats to confess the sins of the community over them. One goat became a Yom Kippur offering of atonement and the other symbolically carried the people’s sins away. In the bird purification ritual, one bird flies away, taking the person’s sins and contamination away. But what does the imagery of the blood mean? Perhaps one thing that is being suggested is that our sins and impurities are far more serious than we think – literally matters of life and death.
In addition there is a second and equally valid suggestion. The Torah says about humans, at the end of B’reisheet, “every product of the thoughts of their heart was but evil always.” And in the next portion, in Noah, it says, “…since the imagery of man’s heart is evil from his youth.” We know that blood is supposed to stay inside a person. Impurity: body fluids, bacteria, anything icky, are all supposed to be on the inside. These things that are meant to be inside of us perhaps correspond to our thoughts and feelings. When they come out and can be seen by other people, as deeds or hurtful words, they cause problems. In the Torah, skin diseases, like the one Miriam contracted through speech and gossip, are associated with arrogance, hurtful speech and unnecessary gossip. When skin diseases and other things that should be on the inside appear on the outside, then we are called to recognize that more is being expected of us and we need to confess, atone, and be forgiven. We know that the Torah’s negative statements about us are not, by any means, the whole picture. We are made in God’s image and we also yearn for love, goodness, wholeness, and a chance to serve and be of help. The purification ritual allows us to realize that we can bring ourselves closer to God and remove the barrier between us and the Divine Presence that we ourselves have put there. The means to do this has been given to us. Our desire to become cleansed cleanses us; and we can then bring forth into the open what we seldom let out from inside: what is finest in us: our desire and longing for holiness, reverence, goodness and Divinity. May we purify our thought, speech, and deeds, so that we can bring forth what is highest and finest.

The Messages of Illness and Healing

This week’s Torah portion is Tazria, which means, conceives. It speaks about how human beings can be contaminated for ritual purposes, that is, when wanting to bring sacrifices, and how they can be purified. Childbirth, which begins this portion, and the flow of bodily fluids such as blood and sexual emissions, and certain illnesses, such as skin diseases, confer impurity. For childbirth there is a period of days before a person can be purified by washing and bringing offerings, but for illnesses, especially those which might be contagious, the one who is ill is instructed to go to the priest. This tradition was a part of so many human cultures whose shamans: priests and healers combined, knew how to bring people to the gates of the spiritual world. In the Torah, the priest was the authority when it came to illness: and was to look at sores and skin conditions, even mold on houses and garments, to determine whether the person or articles should be quarantined, whether the condition might be worsening or abating, and when it was time for that person to be allowed once again to be reintegrated into the community. We might ask, why does the Torah insist that the priest be the one to make these decisions? Why not a person trained or gifted in diagnosing illnesses: a doctor or back then an herbalist or midwife? We know that in the past, the mind body connection was stronger that it is for us today. When someone had an illness it was presumed that the illness was not occurring as an isolated event, but was connected to the whole person, mind, body, soul, and spirit; and further, that every illness has a spiritual component.
This understanding is reinforced by a quotation from the book of Exodus (15:26): God says to Moses, “if you listen diligently to the voice of God your God and do what is just in God’s sight, listen to the commandments and observe God’s decrees, then any of the diseases I placed in Egypt I will not bring upon you, for I am God, your healer.” This brings us back to the teaching that the moral and physical universes are one, and that we are being guided to greater spiritual and moral attainment. While studying the book of Jeremiah, we also learned that the wound is the cure: that illness, war, and disaster can occur to remedy something that may be out of balance in a person or in the society. The Kotzker Rebbe, quoted in the Soul of the Torah, said, “Where purity is removed, impurity replaces it.”
Religion’s goal is to include and not isolate, as noted in the Etz Chayim commentary. It can help a person to develop another perspective on their illness. Perhaps, then, it is wise that a person with an illness goes to the priest. The priest had to evaluate the illness several times, encouraging a real relationship with the patient; maybe to allow and facilitate the patient confiding in the priest, who could then serve as a conduit to spiritual wisdom and healing. Not that we should ever blame the patient, but that a patient may welcome the support of a sympathetic caring person who would be there for counseling if the person wished it. Also, people may impart different information to a priest than to a doctor. The midrash quotes David’s Psalm 139:5: Backward and forward you have hedged me in, You laid your hand upon me. Perhaps this means that illness serves as a message: a teaching, just as does healing. It can serve as a sign that God expects more of us, or that we have been on one spiritual plateau long enough and are being urged forward. We are meant to pay attention to the dis – ease we feel and to ruminate on our inner condition, allowing us to attain a deeper understanding of ourselves and the world. Perhaps a disease also serves, in our scientific time, as a pathway for circling back to our more primitive understanding and reconnecting ourselves to the spiritual mind-body connection our ancestors knew, but on a higher level, integrating our scientific knowledge with our spiritual knowledge. Our sages, like the Apter Rebbe, taught that humans were created last so that we could effect the repair of the entire universe. Tazria teaches that it will be more than enough to repair and improve ourselves, and perhaps, by so doing, bring ultimate repair about. By the pathway of self-improvement, we can reestablish the spiritual balance that results in harmony and good health. The priest, as a denizen of both the practical and spiritual worlds serves as an example to us. May we take the opportunity to look deeply within ourselves and allow the events we experience to speak to us, showing us a pathway of growth and blessing. May we know that we are being led to greater wholeness, kindness, and compassion, in illness as in healing, and may we strive to inhabit both the spiritual and the practical worlds every day of our lives.

Thinking For Ourselves

This week’s Torah portion is Shemini, which means, eighth. On the eighth day after Moses set up the Tabernacle, the sacrificial service was to begin. The priests – Aaron and his four sons - had been sanctifying themselves for seven days. It was the first time the people had gathered to see sacrifice performed on their behalf. Moses had told them that God’s Presence would appear to them and it was a joyous and solemn holiday, full of expectation and devotion. Every sacrifice was offered as commanded and God sent heavenly fire to consume the offerings, manifesting the Divine Presence. But just at that time of celebration, two of Aaron’s sons brought an incense offering that was not commanded and they died tragically, in the sight of everyone. Moses tells Aaron not to leave or to show signs of obvious mourning, lest another tragedy occur. Then there is a controversy about whether Aaron and his remaining sons should eat the sin offering. Moses becomes angry that the commandment to eat it was not followed, but Aaron said, “Now that such things befell me, were I to eat this day’s sin offering, would God approve?” The Torah continues, “Moses heard and he approved.” At the end of this section the dietary laws are given.
Shemini is perhaps the most contradictory portion in the Torah. It teaches a number of important things, so it is interesting to try to untangle its contradictions and draw some conclusions. The first message we get is that when we follow the commandments exactly, God is pleased. This idea is reinforced by the deaths of Aaron’s two sons. They brought “an alien fire that God had not commanded.” But just after that comes the two middle words of the Torah, “darosh darosh: Moses insistently inquired about the sin offering.” Our sages say that the Torah revolves around insistent in inquiry. This teaching is in turn reinforced by Aaron’s exchange with Moses. Aaron feels that he must have sinned, or his sons must have sinned, for his son’s lives to be taken, publicly, by God. He feels that he is not worthy to eat the people’s sin offering and he disobeys God’s direct commandment. When Moses hears Aaron’s reasoning, Moses agrees with him. This teaches the importance of motivation. It shows us that our intention is more important than obeying the letter of the Law. In effect, we are being told by this portion to think and not to think. In Buddhism, a koan is a statement that makes no logical sense, but is given to a student to meditate on, sometimes for years, until the inner meaning is revealed. This portion is a kind of Jewish koan: use your intelligence and emotions to make your own decisions while obeying the commandments exactly. What are we to do? A Catholic priest I know, Henry Fehrenbacher, who is a scholar and intellectual once said, “God gave us brains and God is insulted if we don’t use them.” In agreement with this, the Stone Chumash quotes Rabbi Tzaddok HaKohen who said, “This is the first place in the Torah of the exercise of Oral law, in which reasoning is used to define the parameters of the law.” I would go even further. Our sages taught that there were two categories of Torah: written and oral. But I have begun to teach a third category: Newly Created Torah that arises in our hearts and minds, moment by moment, through which God sends us suggestions, feelings, and convictions about what we should do. One Actors’ Temple congregant calls it “God Guts.” Now this can be dangerous, if we do whatever we want to do. The commandment to wear fringes tries to guard against that and reminds us to do what God asks us to do. We are very good at rationalizing our behavior to convince ourselves that we are doing the right thing when we are not. So perhaps we need some guidelines for the decision making process. Rabbi Gelberman used to ask: “Is it good today and will it be good tomorrow?” And I think we all would ask, “Would it hurt anyone?” I would also add: does it exclude anyone, which certainly comes up in the way we keep or don’t keep the dietary laws. Another guideline might be, “Is this in the spirit of what God asks of me? Shemini teaches that it is as detrimental to follow the commandments blindly and unthinkingly as it is not to follow them. Rabbi Eleazar said in the Talmud, A person should always be pliable as the reed and never unyielding or rigid as the cedar. For this reason the reed merited that of it should be made a pen for the writing of the Law (Taanit 20a). Judaism can only live, the Torah can only live when we make decisions using our intelligence and our ability to make fine distinctions and fuse these abilities with giving, loving, unselfish hearts. Maimonides said that all of the commandments only exist to lead us to holiness. They are a means to an end and not an end in themselves. I personally find life to be a moral quagmire, which is constantly presenting me with difficult and challenging decisions; and I am always trying to keep my mind and my heart open when I make them. Shemini clearly teaches that the written commandments do not cover all circumstances. It is up to us to decide how and when to apply them. It is also incumbent upon us to be totally honest and truthful with ourselves about our motivations, which may often be mixed.
May we use our intelligence, love of others, our compassion, and our sense of justice to decide the way we should go. May our desire to elevate ourselves, to join with and help others guide our decisions, and may we cleave to Goodness, using our intelligence, doing what is right, doing what is asked of us, with love and caring.