To Bring Forth Beauty

This week’s Torah portion is Korach, which concerns the famous conflict sparked by Moses’ cousin Korach, 2 of his neighbors, and 250 other leaders. After the bad news about having to wander for 38 more years, in last week’s Torah portion, Korach, a Levite, challenges Moses and Aaron, claiming that they have taken upon themselves too much authority. Moses tells Korach that God will choose who is holy, and subsequently, Korach and the rebels perish in an earthquake and fire respectively. Then a plague breaks out and Moses instructs Aaron to stop the plague with an offering of incense. Aaron stands between the living and the dead and stays the plague, but the people continue to complain about Moses and Aaron. In an effort to stop the murmuring, God tells Moses to have the head of each of the 12 tribes put a staff with his name on it in front of the Tent of Meeting, overnight, and to write Aaron’s name on the staff of Levi. The Torah says, “And it came to pass, that on the next day Moses went into the Tent of Testimony; and, behold, the staff of Aaron for the house of Levi had budded, and brought forth buds, and bloomed blossoms, and yielded almonds.” Aaron has a wonderful reputation in the Torah. He is the High Priest, the older brother, but he is consistently a second fiddle to Moses. He is a peace maker, resolving quarrels and keeping the peace in Moses’ absence. In Midrash Rabba it says, 18:23 It is an honor for a man to keep aloof from strife; but every fool will be snarling (Prov. XX, 3). Aaron is also the appeaser who made the golden calf; the parent whose two eldest sons died before his eyes and the entire assembly, while he kept silent. He is the one who refused to keep one of God’s commandments to eat a sacrifice, because he felt unworthy; and Moses thought his reasoning was correct. He is the servant of God who sacrificed animals, one who heard confessions of the sins of the people each day and saw how sins, that cause death and waste, can be forgiven and cleansed. He was a people person, a regular guy when not in his royal robes and a good listener. When his staff, or mateh in Hebrew, bore fruit, God showed that beauty, creativity, and goodness came from him. Staff, mateh, also means below, which the rabbis connect with humility. The Torah underscores the qualities that bear fruit in a life. What qualities can bring forth beauty?: patience, service, humility, repentance, and sincerity of heart. A quiet that comes from below: that deep place where we are alone with ourselves and our divine essence; the refusal to separate ourselves, as Korach did, but to bind ourselves to our brothers and sisters by being at one with the group. Beauty comes from connection, nobility from service, and fruitfulness from the balance that humility brings to our participation. Creation is about love. Our sages say, it is only by love that God created the world. Love always Re-enacts creation. Bearing fruit is about union; the unification of the upper and lower realms. Aaron was a conduit connecting earth and heaven, He is a model not for the leader, but for the rest of us, those who try to help in the role we have been given to play in this life. May our love re-enact creation, unifying the upper and lower realms, bearing beautiful fruit in our lives allowing us to connect earth to heaven; and May our deeds bring forth beauty and union with our Divine essence.

Understanding Our Mission

This week’s Torah portion is Shelach Lecha, which means, send forth for yourself. It tells the famous story of the scouts, sent to have a first glimpse of the Promised Land. God gave permission for 12 leaders, one from each tribe, to be sent by Moses to bring back a report on the land, the people in it, and its produce. Upon the scouts return, they gave a public report in which they affirmed that the land was good, “But,” 10 out of 12 of them said, in effect, we will never be able to conquer it. We are far too weak. The land it fortified and the people are too strong. The scouts demoralized the Israelites, who became afraid and wanted to return to Egypt. Because of the people’s fear and lack of faith, in spite of God leading them around with a pillar of cloud and feeding them each day, God concluded that only their children who had not been enslaved, would inherit the land and that they must wander for 38 more years.
It is interesting to compare the scouts in this week’s portion and the scouts that Jacob sent when he prepared to meet his brother Esau, after not having seen Esau for 20 years, knowing that the last time they met, Jacob tricked Esau out of his blessing. Jacob’s scouts are called malachim, angels or messengers in the Torah; whereas here, in Shelach Lecha, those sent out are called anashim latour: men, to spy or explore. Their tasks seem similar: travel to Canaan, find out who is there, whether there is a threat, pick up any useful information, and report back. Jacob’s messengers reported that Easu was advancing toward him with 400 men; and Jacob became frightened. In Shelach Lecha, however, the scouts went one step further than Jacob’s messengers. They reported back not just what they had seen but also presented to the whole congregation their own conclusions and decision based on what they saw. In effect, they had misunderstood their mission. No one had asked them to decide IF the people should enter the land. God had not said to them, go see the land and see if this is what you want to do. In the Torah, and by extension in our own lives intention is very important. In Pirkei Avot, Chapters of the Fathers, which is part of the Talmud, it is written, (V:20) ”Any controversy with a noble purpose will result in abiding value, but any controversy that has no noble purpose shall not have abiding value.” When Jacob heard the messengers’ bad news he wrestled with himself all night, confronting his own integrity so that he could face his obligation of meeting Esau the next morning, not knowing where his blessing might lie. When we perform any action, the sages say, an angel is created, and that energy we send out into the world contains the goodness of our intentions or conversely, the negativity or selfishness with which we sometimes act. The S’fat Emet quotes Midrash Rabbah (16:1) “Nothing is beloved before God like an emissary sent to do a mitzvah who risks his life for the mission to succeed.” The S’fat Emet’s grandfather and teacher said, “We are all emissaries to do mitsvot; we were sent into this world by God in order to fulfill God’s commandments.” And these commandments were given to us in love, for our benefit. Like the spies, it is so easy for us to misunderstand our mission. We were sent here to go forth fearlessly, not always knowing where our blessing will lie, to be angels of goodness for each other: to help and be a blessing to one another, and to bring God’s goodness into the world. We don’t get to decide what our mission will be; it has already been decided for us, because of the way we are made, as an integral part of the universe and God.
The universe is already structured so that if we do what is right and open our hearts, we feel good about ourselves. In Leviticus it says, you shall be holy for the Eternal our God is holy; and this is part prophecy and part encouragement. We aren’t allowed to decide if we want to be a blessing, for that is the way God is leading us. If our intentions are for the sake of Heaven, then our struggles will have meaning and value, and we will be guided on a true path to wholeheartedness with God and love for each other. May each of us be guided on a path of love, compassion, and good intentions, that we may create angels of goodness and beauty, now and always.

Bearers of the Light

This week’s Torah portion is Naso, which means do, as in, do a census. The Levites were to be counted and tasks associated with transporting the Tabernacle were assigned. Also in the portion, people with certain conditions were to dwell outside the camp until they were purified again. A mechanism for confession to the Priest, and restitution of an extra 20 per cent, was laid down. This portion also describes laws that have been abandoned, such as the trial by ordeal when a husband is suspicious of a wife; and the rules for temporary nuns and monks, the Nazarites. This portion famously includes the Priestly Benediction; and concludes with the description of identical offerings of the tribes for the dedication of the sanctuary.
Naso describes the labor of the Levites, which is here called service. Much of the Levitical service was carrying. Among the four Levite families, the Gershonite clan carried the curtains and fabric panels which enclosed the Tabernacle, or the Mishkan, and formed the cover of the Tent of Meeting. The Kohath clan carried the most sacred objects: the ark, the table of bread, the Menorah, the golden incense altar, and all the associated utensils. Two of the Levite families were assigned wagons, for carrying the heaviest parts of the Tabernacle. The text Says, (7:9) and to the sons of Kohath, Moses did not give wagons since the sacred service was upon them and they carried on their shoulder.
A few things to notice: all the Levites had extra work to do. Their blessing was that, not only did they have to transport their own tents and belongings, like everyone else, but they were responsible for more than the average person. Also, the census first counted the non-Levites and only afterward counted the Levite families. So, in a sense, everyone “counted.” Every person was important to the success of the endeavor. Rabbi Gelberman said in his book, Spiritual Truths, “There are no sidelines in a spiritual world. We must enter it and live.” So, the Torah says, we all count and are all engaged in service, a sacred service. Those designated to be leaders are asked to do more of the work, not less. There are two hints in the text about what true service should be. The word for curtains Y’ri-ot, is interesting. It is related to seeing, and to the world neighbor, as in you shall love your neighbor as yourself. But it is also related to protection and to friendship. The curtains were lace panels and the covering for the tent of meeting was made of goat hair. Both of these types of panels let in the light, especially the goat hair cover, because the Tent of meeting was enclosed and had no illumination during the day; only at night was the menorah lit. There was a waterproof covering for the tent as well; and perhaps it was put on in inclement weather. So the Hebrew words lead us to an inner meaning: that of finding the inner mishkan the indwelling of holiness, or finding the inner Tzaddik, the inner righteousness within us that yearns to serve and let in Divine light. The true service that brings us closer to our inner holiness is carrying light: seeing each other person as our neighbor and carrying our light to our fellow; extending our light, our understanding, and even our protection, a function of us all being responsible for each other.
The Talmud contains a commentary on carrying from Naso. It is well known that the Levites were musicians. They sang and played instruments: drums, flutes, harps, and tambourines for the Temple service. The Talmud comments: (Arachin 11a:6) Our Rabbis taught: The omission of the song invalidates the sacrifice, R. Eleazar said: Because Scripture said, And I have given the Levites — they are given to Aaron and to his sons from among the children of Israel . . . and to make atonement for the children of Israel, i.e., just as atonement is indispensable, so is the song indispensable. ….. Now which service is it that is in joyfulness and with gladness of heart? You must say: It is song. And it is also written, …. But unto the sons of Kohath he gave none, because the service of the holy things belonged unto them: they bore them upon their shoulders. … But they bore them here means in song, for thus also it is said: Take up [se'u] the melody and sound the timbrel, and it is said also: They lift up [yisse'u] their voices, they sing for joy.
This tells us how we should perform Divine service. We must open our hearts and let in the light, carrying our light to others with the music in our souls; with joy and gratitude; with happiness and our life force. We were given these gifts not to keep them to ourselves, but to bring our light out of where it sometimes hides and light up the eyes of others with our caring and our smiles. This is true service: carrying our share, doing our part joyously, and adding to and extending the blessings we were given in this world. May the songs of the Levites be our example and may the holy tasks we carry out be a reflection of the radiance of our own souls.

Does God Punish?

This week we read two Torah portions: Behar, on the mountain, and Bechukotai, my decrees. Tonight I would like to focus on the second, Bechukoti. This portion begins with a conditional sentence: If you will follow my decrees and observe my commandments and perform them, then I will create blessings for you. The many blessings include rain at its proper time, fruitfulness of the land, peace, and prosperity; success in battle and a special relationship with God. The next conditional sentence starts what is known as the Tochacha, the admonition, and begins, But: if you will not listen to me and will not perform these commandments. Or you consider my decrees loathsome and if your being rejects my ordinances…then I will do the same to you.” What follows is a litany of terrible suffering that increases in its severity: privation, illness, war, exile, calamity, and famine. The English translation of the portion goes on to say that if after a first series of misfortunes we do not listen, “then I shall punish you further.” The question I would like to address tonight is: does God punish? The Hebrew word, Ya’s’ra more literally means to admonish, discipline, or correct: that God is actually communicating with us through the things that happen to us, in an attempt to being us back to a more productive state and relationship. In the Zohar, “R. Jose commented on the verse: My child, despise not the chastening of the God, neither be weary of God’s reproof (Prov. III, 11). Israel, he said, are beloved to God, and therefore God desires to reprove them and to lead them in the right path as a loving parent leads their children, and because of this love God always has the rod in his hand to keep them in the right path and to prevent them from straying to the right or the left.” But we can go deeper into this question.. The sages say that the Torah speaks in the language of human beings. When it says, “with a strong hand” God took us out of Egypt, or we read, “you have found favor in my eyes,” we know that God does not have hands or eyes, and it is just a metaphoric way of speaking. But this is also true about punishing or disciplining or correcting. It is not that God punishes us, but that we experience the results of our acts as punishments. The metaphor I like best is the glass of water. If all of creation is a glass of water and we put dark dye into the water by our actions, then the water will become darker and things will look bleak. If each of us is a source of dark dye, then it will look very dark around us. But say that if, by our good, ethical, and worthy actions we could remove some of the darkness around us? Then the water would lighten and all the water would improve. It’s a good metaphor because it shows how interconnected we all are, that one action really does affect the whole, both positively and negatively. Rabbi Sarah Sager makes a similar point in The Torah, a Women’s Commentary. She writes: “The catalogue of threats and promises is a biblical way to explain how intimate the connection of the natural realm of the universe is to the moral realm. The two realms do not function independently of each other. There is a moral order to the universe as surely as there is a more easily observable natural order….And it is in the moral realm where God cannot function alone. God...kept looking for partners. What did we expect of a God who created the natural universe? That the moral dimension was as afterthought?...God did not neglect the moral realm. On the contrary, humankind did. God kept expecting humankind to behave morally and was constantly disappointed.” In Bechukotai, we are being frightened into compliance, but more importantly, we are being given vital information: that the Universe is all of a piece, a Oneness, that is inescapable. It is not that we are being punished, or disciplined, or corrected; but that we if we choose not to obey the commandments, we are acting against the way the universe is constructed: like jumping up and expecting gravity not to pull us back down. Rabbi Gelberman also teaches that God does not punish. He feels that we do things to ourselves. And this view is borne out in a quotation from Noah. “God saw that the badness of man was great upon the earth…and God had heartfelt sadness.” Not anger, not the impulse to punish, but heartfelt sadness. God would much prefer to bless us and send us blessings. When we get along with each other and help each other, we unlock the Shefa, the flow of blessings for us all. Bechukotai is not about a punishing God. It is about a God who is trying to give us a fighting chance to understand how to be whole and to create wholeness. The Zohar comments about this section of the Torah, “The two, statute and judgment, are connected both on the higher and the lower planes. All the commandments, decrees, and sanctifications of the Torah are attached to these…. Both are intertwined and form one entity, and this is the sum of the Holy Name, so that the one who transgresses against the commandments of the law in effect impairs the Holy Name…the one that gives charity (zedakah) to the poor makes the Holy Name complete as it should be above since zedakah is the tree of life, and when it gives to Zedek (righteousness) the Holy Name becomes complete. Hence he who sets this activity in motion from below, as it were, fully makes the Holy Name.”(112a) There is another metaphor that I have found to be useful in understanding how the Torah is attempting to teach us. If you buy a new piece of electronic equipment: a TV, VCR, DVD player, watch, or camera, and you don’t read the manual, you won’t know how to program it or use it so that it will do what you want it to do. If we fiddle with the thing ourselves, it is unlikely that we will be pleased with our purchase, until we read how to operate it. The Torah is the manual for living. It tells us how to operate the universe, how to operate ourselves in a sense, to experience good outcomes. God has given us free will, because there is no spiritual attainment without free will. God has given us the manual, as Moses says, for our benefit, not to threaten or punish us, but to impress upon us what works and what will not ever have the possibility of working. Our moral life is one of God’s central concerns, and we have been dignified by God allowing us the choice of choosing a loving, giving, ethical life. In Bechukotai, the choices are laid out for us starkly and clearly. Choose blessing, choose plenty, choose knowingly and choose lovingly, so that God’s universe will respond, and as it says, do the same to you.

Inner Fine-ness

This week’s Torah portion is Emor, which means, speak. God asks Moses to speak to the priests about contamination and ritual purity. Priests are not to come into contact with the dead except for the necessity to bury very close relatives. People with certain blemishes or disabilities are not to serve as priests; contaminated people may not eat the sacrifices and blemished animals may not be sacrificed. The cycle of yearly holidays is described and the law that the punishment must fit the crime, almost always applied as monetary damages, is restated, similar to its first appearance in Exodus.
This is a difficult portion for us moderns to read. We don’t agree with excluding people with blemishes or disabilities. So the task is: how to find meaning in a section of the Torah that speaks about a society long gone, a priestly class and sacrificial system abolished 2,000 years ago, and values we no longer affirm? The sage, S’fat Emet quotes Psalm 12:7, “the words of God are pure words, like purified silver, clear to the world, refined.” This verse speaks of purity, refinement; of having standards and of using our powers of discrimination to make certain distinctions. It is, for me, understandable that God would not want us to offer blemished animals for sacrifice. Giving up animals that no one wanted because there were sick, lame, or defective is not a sacrifice at all. It would be giving our worst and not our best. So God wishes us to give our best. The Eternal is asking us to give only that which has value to us, only that which represents the highest in us; and this holds true on a deeper level as well as on the simple, physical level. We are asked to develop standards for ourselves but not necessarily for others; to develop a certain inner fine-ness and to maintain standards of behavior and practice, judging ourselves but not falling into the trap of judging others. There are at least two reasons to develop standards. The Torah says, (Levit 22:9) “They shall guard my safekeeping and they shall not bear a sin over it. And die because of it, for they will have defiled it. I am God who sanctifies them.”
The first reason seems to be protection – our protection. The priests had a dangerous job to do. They worked among the Holy objects in the Tabernacle, upon which the Divine Presence rested. It was important for them to know how to protect themselves. Aaron’s two sons had died perhaps because they had not known how to keep themselves safe from contact with God’s holiness. So when we are indignant about the rules in Emor, one thing to remember is that they may be there for human protection; so that the priests did not make fatal mistakes that would have caused them to come into contact with more power or purity than their humanity could handle.
The second, deeper reason for developing standards is an inner one. A standard can be exclusionary, excluding certain people or groups, or it can be inclusion-ary, a personal goal to strive toward. Now that there is no Priesthood, we are all meant to be priests, as it says in Exodus, “You shall be a kingdom of priests, a holy nation.” Our standards can bring us to find our inner fineness, our inner perfection. When we use our ability to make distinctions to sanctify ourselves by setting inner goals, we do as the S’fat Emet wrote: we bring the precious out of the ordinary. This process of self-refining is holy work. It is the way to make contact with the Godliness in ourselves and the universe. Awe: inner fineness is that quality that Rashi calls accepting upon oneself God’s Divinity. In the Zohar it says, “Wholeness comes to those who have awe of God.” When we strive to express what is highest and finest in ourselves, we cause completion; a wholeness to flow from our actions. Then we feel connected to God and to each other, the deep connection that is really there. There is so much work for us to do in the world: tears to dry, smiles to bestow, love and help to give. To be open to that work heals us and helps us. God asks us to give of our best, for our own benefit. Should we really give anything less?

Eulogy: Jeff Swiskay, by guest blogger Elliot Cohen

I first met Jeffrey Swiskay when he was working a record store across from City Hall. As someone whose passion is music, I always enjoy talking with a music store clerk around my age who shares my interest and knowledge of it. Jeff was a knowledgeable about music and film as anyone I've ever met.

I instinctively felt that Jeff was someone I could become friends with, so I gave him my phone number. Just prior to one Passover, Jeff told me he was trying to get off from work for the first day of the holiday. I was very surprised to learn that he was also Jewish. For one thing, I'm extremely naive when it comes to spotting a fellow lansman. Unless, someone has a name like Goldberg or Moskowitz, or they're wearing a yarmukle and tzitzis, I'm can't be sure.

African-Americans, Latinos, or Asians, I'm usually right on the money, but not as accurate with Jews. Besides, Swiskay is not an overtly Jewish name, and frankly...and Jeff used to say this himself, he actually looked more like a Native American than a Jew, especially when he would take the beret out of his long grey hair, which he was proud of, and let it just hang down to his shoulders.

Jeff, who told me that his grandfather was an orthodox rabbi, felt that one of his ancestors who lived in the Wild West portion of this country, may have intermarried with someone of Native American ancestry, hence the physical features.

Anyway, after discovering that Jeff was also Jewish, I knew we would become close friends, which we were. I'm an only child with no extended family at all, and Jeff and I were as close as if he were the brother I never had.

Besides loving music..and comedy...he had aspirations of becoming a full-time actor, and was very proud of the extra work he had done on some major films.

Jeff had a heart as huge as his physical body. I was with him many times when he would stop to speak and show compassion to a homeless person who literally smelled so bad, most other people wouldn't come within ten feet of. Before leaving, many times he would leave the person with a dollar, which was a lot for someone without a job.

I also knew that Jeff was willing to give up one of his kidneys to try to save the life of his late father, whom he admired greatly. Unfortunately, his father passed away before the operation could be completed, but this act shows how unselfish and caring he was.

I still can't believe that Jeffrey is gone. He used to tell me that bringing him to the Actor's Temple was the best thing I ever did for him, and said it was "the coolest place in New York." Being an actor, he was awestruck at the temple's impressive show business background. He was especially impressed that two of the Three Stooges used to come to services here, as he loved their offbeat sense of humor. Also, the Marx Brothers.

I'm truly sorry that his life ended so tragically, especially when he had dreams of coming to California to pursue a career in acting and comedy. He should have been around another 30 to 40 years to enjoy life and make others happy.

Rebirth in the Flame

This week’s Torah portion is Tzav, which means, command. The priests, Aaron and his sons, are given instructions about how to carry out the service of the five different types of sacrifice. They are also asked to keep a fire burning on the altar all night, and all day. They are told that the priests may eat the designated portions of the sacrifices only while in a pure state, that fat and blood may not be eaten. The end of the portion contains a description of the seven day consecration ceremony of the Priests, in which they were asked to wash, dress in the sacred vestments, confess their sins, become anointed, cook and eat the sacrificial meat, and dwell in a holy state within the confines of the Tabernacle for seven days.
The verses of this portion which have been most interesting to the sages are about the flame on the altar. Rabbi Arthur Green notes that these verses are part of the Sephardic and the Chassidic morning service. They include three verses about the flame: In Chapter 6, Verse 2: “Command Aaron and his sons saying, this is the law of the elevation offering, It is the elevation offering that stays on the flame on the altar all night until morning and the fire of the altar should remain aflame on it.” Verse 5: “The fire on the altar shall remain burning on it. It shall not be extinguished.” And Verse 6: “A permanent fire shall remain aflame on the altar. It shall not be extinguished.” The sacrifices described in this portion are in addition to the first sacrifices that are specified in the Torah, the Tamid offerings. They are the continual or daily offerings, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. We might ask, why should the instructions for the priests even be retained in the Torah? Can they have any meaning for us today? The sages, most of whom lived after the sacrificial service had been discontinued by the destruction of the Second Temple, took these lines symbolically, that our devotion should be kept alive and that our hearts should be aflame continually to serve God and do God’s work. But we know, and Rabbi Green reminds us, that a flame can give heat and light, but that a flame can also burn and consume. A flame can be magical, beneficial, and life giving; but it can also hurt and destroy.
In his book, Wrapped in a Holy flame, Rabbi Zalman Shacter interprets the teachings of Rabbi Nachman of Breslov, calling him the first Jewish sage to understand what it is to be a modern person. Rabbi Nachman writes about finding God in the darkness and in the Void. In a verse from Exodus, during the Revelation, the Torah says that the people heard the Ten Commandments and were terrified. The experience was too frightening for them and they asked Moses if he would speak to God and then tell them what God said. Then the text says, “The people saw and trembled and stood from afar….and Moses approached the thick cloud where God was.” Sometimes we encounter God as a god of blessings and happiness, a god of contentment, spiritual fulfillment, and peace. But sometimes either we are afraid; or what we experience is the loneliness of the search for wholeness and union, the questions with few answers, suffering, alienation, meaninglessness. Rabbi Nachman has been there. He says, “Never despair. How far can you fall? Can you ever fall out of God? And how far can you rise? Can you ever rise above God? Below are always the everlasting arms, no matter how low you fall.” In other words, as Rabbi Shacter says, “there is no place of despair,” because whether we are in a place of light or a place of thick cloud, darkness, and void, we are still with God. In fact, Moses had to go into the darkness of the cloud in order to reconnect with God. The Holy Eternal One cannot be found only in peak and happy experiences. The emptiness of the Void and its suffering are a necessary part of the journey. The S’fat Emet speaks about this in another way. He says, “As we burn up the waste in our lives, we are uplifted each day and are given a new light.” This is the synthesis that we need to find meaning in this portion. As modern people we are deep in the process of fulfilling God’s prophecy from Exodus, “You shall be a kingdom of Priests, a holy nation.” Each of us is our own priest, able to talk to God without intermediaries, doing the work of purifying our individual souls and becoming holy on the inside. We are commanded in Exodus to bring a Tamid sacrifice every day, and that sacrifice, for us, can be seen as prayer, as deeds, as study, but in the final analysis, as ourselves. When we are present to the Holy Divine Presence each day, the fire of God consumes our less than worthy selves, remaking us in the Divine Image bit by bit. Our lesser selves are sacrificed, burned; and day by day we grow into the new selves that God decrees must replace the self of yesterday. The famous quote by Norman Mailer comes to mind: “There is that law of life, so cruel and so just, that one must grow or else pay more for staying the same.” Change and progress are two of God’s imperatives. The darkness and the void are part of this continual process of renewal. There is death and then rebirth of a part of ourselves every day. The fire does not go out. The fire cannot go out, and we are cradled in the everlasting arms even as we are in the process of becoming more worthy and magnificent each day. God is the flame and our lesser selves are the sacrifice, and the fire of God’s renewal also lives in our hearts. The flame burns in the void and gives light, consuming our present selves to make possible a new and undreamed of future.
When we give ourselves to this process, trusting that there is a Divine heart and mind that is helping us and urging us to become more of who we really are, we step into the Everlasting arms, cradled there, secure and protected.