A Rebirth: Assembling the Shards

Today is the anniversary of George Floyd’s death. It is a tragedy with a staying power that other such events failed to receive, perhaps because of its clear visual documentation, perhaps because of the time in which it occurred. Several in our group noted the unusual nature of the Star Tribune cover page that quoted a wide variety of people about how it affected each of them, in their thinking and in their subsequent actions. This event represented a break with the past and a new beginning, all arriving in the middle of a pandemic and at a time when social norms of comity have been thrown into quite visible disarray. It caused us to reflect on the fact that our topic of brokenness was indeed crafted for these times.

Meryl spoke to the etymology of the Hebrew word for crisis, mashber. The root is shevar which means broken, but there is another meaning for mashber, a birthing chair. Crisis is an opportunity for a new birth.

 

Our topic today presented a metaphor from the mystics, first presented by Kabbalist, Rabbi Isaac Luria in 1570 and summarized quite clearly by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks in our handout (see handout May Source Sheet ). 

 

 It begins in a bit of a logic problem. If God exists and is infinite, how is there room for anything else? And he’s not talking about something smaller than a bread box, but rather a universe. This assumes a fundamental concept,  two things cannot coexist at a single time in a single space so infinity crowds out everything else. 

Luria answered this question with the concept of tzimtzum which means contraction, withdrawal, concealment.  Under this theory, before the creation of the universe, God had to first withdraw to create space for the universe. Interestingly the Hebrew word for universe, 

olam, comes from a root that means hiding or concealment. 

 

Lurie then introduced a second idea called shevirat ha-kelim that means “breaking of the vessels”, a catastrophe theory of creation. In order to preserve some of his presence in the universe, God sent forth rays of light that were too powerful to contain and they broke the containers that were to hold them.  Apparently he wasn’t all-knowing under this theory, but still experimenting a bit himself never having done this before. As a result, fragments of light were strewn across the world. Our task is to gather these fragments to reassemble them, to set the world right. Each act we take to set the world right affects the “ecology of creation.”

 

So yes, for fact-based people this sounds, dare I say mystical. Think of it as metaphor or midrash. Luria was trying to explain the empty spaces, to make sense of the unknowable. And it's a metaphor that actually works.

 

What do we take from this on a metaphoric level? It’s all about process and it is never done. We can never bring the world back to a state of wholeness, but shard by shard we can make it better. We are in process as is the world. It made me think of the quote from Martin Luther King Jr–– The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice. We aspire to justice, bending the arc ever so slightly. The death of George Floyd was a crisis, but also a wakeup call that may result in a rebirth. We are each called to gather the shards to set it right.

This story has been reflected in artwork and architecture such as the Shard in London and the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe in Berlin. Each incorporates discrete elements that may form a larger whole, but are unique in their individuality. Bonnie spoke of the downstairs level beneath the memorial that houses the flickers of light from home movies of those who perished. She also spoke of the Monument to the Burning of the Books which has glass inserts in the plaza that look down on empty bookcases, highlighting what is not there. Also in this conversation we discussed the film Stumbling Stones which is about the largest decentralized memorial in the world, commemorating those who died in the Holocaust at the homes they once lived in. An important part of gathering shards is about remembering.

A question was posed. How do we see our work as collecting shards of light? Some use their artwork to shine a light on what is hidden, others on beauty. My work focuses on story that connects people to shared experiences, speaking to the humanity that we share. Metaphors drawn from nature connect to the human experience, reminding us of our connection to nature, something for which indigenous people hold a much greater awareness than the human-centered perspective that has come to dominate.  We are each shards of light and when we connect to shared experience we reassemble those shards.

 

Our discussion introduced a number of additional sources and sites that people had found meaningful in this quest or that spoke to the concept of shards.  These included:

A Whisper Across Time - Olga Campbell

To Heal a Fractured World - Rabbi Jonathan Sacks

 

 Braiding Sweetgrass - Robin Wall Kimmerer

God Was Not in the Fire – Daniel Gordes

 

A Collective Conversation: Observing a Year 

 

Words Matter

by Susan Weinberg

Words matter. It is a phrase that has great significance at a time when we have experienced the damage injudicious words can create. Today's discussion focused upon words and their meanings. I frequently use the derivation and meanings of English words as a way to step inside of a topic.  For this discussion we looked at words in both English and in Hebrew.

We began with a visual exercise looking at the following two Hebrew words:

שבר 

שלם

We knew one meant broken and the other whole, but which meant which and why? Some of us focused on the closed mem at the end of the second word versus the open resh at the end of the first, thinking of wholeness as intact, a closed loop. Others noted the tall lamed between the two smaller letters of the second word, representing wholeness as a state of balance.

In fact the two words are Shevar and Shalom and as you might guess, Shalom relates to wholeness. It is this word that we use to say many things, hello, goodby and peace. The expression mah shlomcha?  literally means "What is your peace?" Perhaps another way of saying “Are you at peace? Do you feel complete?” Most Hebrew words have a three letter root out of which we can build a world of meaning. 

Some Hebrew words that include these roots for broken are broken-hearted (שבור לב) and fragile (שָׁבִיר).

Note that fragile in English doesn't contain the word broken, but the Hebrew word does. An expression in Hebrew is "to break one's teeth" (לשבור את השיניים) meaning to work really hard at something, a phrase that reminded me of grinding one's teeth in frustration.

There are differences between how Hebrew and English address the same words. In English we talk about breaking the law while in Hebrew you transgress the law. Do laws break or do people violate them? There is a fine distinction between the two, with Hebrew placing the burden for repair on the individual rather than the law. 

The word for crisis in Hebrew is mashber (משביר). A crisis moves us in some direction. I find myself thinking of that open resh, the last letter in shevar. Breakage is an opening to a next step, a gateway perhaps to wholeness. For additional meanings in Hebrew and related artwork you will find our source sheet for Jan in handouts.

We shifted our focus to the more familiar turf of English and how we use the word "break." A bud breaks open. We use line breaks in poetry to clarify where one line ends and the next begins. We have daybreak, the dawning of a new day and we breakfast, breaking our fast. We say, give me a break and one of my favorites, a jazz break which is an improvised passage or solo. We also take a break, a pause from our existing routine as we have done during covid. Breaking is not necessarily a negative term.

There is a story in Kaballah about the creation of the world starting out of the breakage of vessels. You can read more about it in this article that explores those resulting shards as inspiration in architecture. The Genesis story has God breaking the waters apart to form the firmaments above. Creation seems to be an act that involves breakage.

We came back to the idea of a passage between brokenness and wholeness, a liminal state or suspension that inextricably links the two in the movement back and forth between those poles.

And a few references of interest. . .

I recently read a thoughtful book that provides insights into this topic, exploring how we move from disruptions to wholeness. I recommend it as an exploration of this theme. The book is by Bruce Feiler and titled Life is in the Transitions. You can read more about it at my personal blog.

Alison shared a video that you'll find below on an exhibition of a poem formed from fragmentary words projected on the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. Erik Jacobs, a Jewish artist of the Jewish Arts Collaborative, collaborated with Porsha Olayiwola, a black woman who is Boston's poet laureate, on the theme of Black as Light. Alison added an additional thought in light of our last meeting’s discussion of menorahs. Just as we are told to place a menorah in the window to celebrate Hanukkah with pride in our heritage, a candle used to be placed in the window to denote a home as part of the underground railroad.

From Torah to Kaballah

Joint Lab - December 23, 2014 by Susan Weinberg

I must confess that I often take a deep breath before I begin one of these blogs. Our sessions are frequently so rich in content that I consider them much like a mountain climber in search of a foothold. Where to take that first step? Today my trek began with Torah and ended with Kaballah.

Rabbi Davis began our discussion with a simple question about the Torah. What is it? We began with descriptors; laws, values, 5 books, teachings, a cultural repository. Then we began to drill down to what it represents to us; our people's history, how we are unique, who we are and how we treat each other. Rabbi Davis noted that it begins with the story of a family of five generations. Then it follows us into Exodus as we become a nation, a people.

Torah means instruction, teaching. We noted that we are taught to question so it is a conversation starter, a living document that is still applicable today. It presents a model of behavior, choices and pathways.

The rabbi pointed us towards Exodus 15:22, a passage where Moses and the Israelites have emerged for the Red Sea. Miriam and the women have sung their song of praise to the Lord, dancing with timbrels. Now three days have gone by and they are in the wilderness of Marrar where the water is bitter. They cry out for fresh water. God points out some wood which Moses throws into the water and it sweetens it. What does this mean?

Perhaps we need to participate in miracles. They require our active involvement. It is not a remote God, but one who interacts with us. Participation is required.

Interestingly the Hebrew word for wood in this passage translates to the tree of life.

We reviewed Betachot 61b, a story of Rabbi Akiba where the water that fish live within is equated to study of Torah in its essential nature. Water is often used as a metaphor for knowledge. It is vast, much is hidden, offering life and nourishment, but also danger. You can drown in Torah if you fail to apply it to life. A story was shared which noted the importance of "hearing a baby cry", essentially staying connected to the world even in the midst of Torah study.

In the second part of our session Joy Gordon introduced us to Kaballah. Kaballah means "that which has been received" and is part of a lengthy Jewish mystical tradition.

Some of the key concepts in Kaballah are interconnectedness, flow between points of connection, balance, boundaries/containers and multiple levels of reality. The story which embeds many of these concepts begins with "the infinite". God contracts, creating space within the infinite, a withdrawal called the Tzimtzum. Within that vacuum light enters, refracts into ten Sefirot and shatters vessels of light because of its intensity. The breaking of vessels symbolizes the disorder of the world. The shards became sparks of light trapped in the material of creation. Tikkun is our effort to restore the world through good deeds and study of Torah.

The key concepts relate closely to water. Water requires a container and finds it in lakes, river beds, oceans and clouds. It flows from higher to lower. Balance is necessary also lest we have floods or drought. Much of water is hidden as in icebergs or wells.

Joy shared with us the cosmology outlined by Isaac Luria who lived after the expulsion from Spain. The components of this cosmology include the following concepts:

Keter-crown
Chochmah-wisdom, can represent the flash of an idea
Binah-understanding, represents building,developing
Da'at -knowledge ( not one of the ten Sephirot, but central none the less)
Chesed-grace
Gevurah- Judgment, boundaries/containers
Tiferet-Beauty, balance, harmony
Hod-glory, pulling back to make a space, to appreciate something, how does it feel, look, to be in awe of what is there, editor, refinement
Nezach-victory, energy that keeps you moving towards your goal, passion
Yesod-foundation of your work, ego, a secret part of you may be embedded in your work.
Malchut-manifests in everyday world when hanging on wall

With this structure in mind we considered how it applied to the artistic process. To create requires a space, but a space on many levels- a physical space, an emotional space, an intellectual space and a spiritual space. We may use a studio or a room in our home. Perhaps we clear our mind by going for a walk. Many of us struggle to clear our minds of activity and find such mundane tasks as washing the dishes or straightening up make the necessary space for creative ideas to emerge. Some shared that their best ideas arise when they are doing something totally unrelated.

In any case the creative act requires differentiation. We cannot create without first creating space for a dialogue with our emerging artwork. Just as when we lead a discussion, we need to leave space to engage others, to make room for the unknown. And we need something or someone else with whom we create dialogue.

With a flash of an idea (Chochmah) we move into developing it (Binah). Perhaps we temporarily suspend judgment (Gevurah) while we allow our eye for color and form (chesed) to move it forward, only then evaluating it through the more critical eye of Gevurah. Our application of both Chesed and Gevurah hopefully achieves balance and harmony (Tiferet). Then we take a step back and create space (Hod). I think of how I set my painting across the room, positioned by the door so I can see it through fresh eyes when I enter the studio. We are pleased with our result, we've succeeded (Nezach). Perhaps within it lies a part of the artist (Yesod) and ultimately we share it with others (Malchut).

From Torah to Kaballah, quite a mountain for one session.

 

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