build your refuge and enter it

A friend recently introduced me to a story that Reb Zalman, z”l, tells about his rebbe when he was imprisoned by the secret police in Soviet Russia. The police officer was threatening him with a gun and the rebbe said to him, “I am not afraid of you. You see, if I had many Gods to serve and only one world to serve them in, I would be afraid. But I have only one God to serve and many worlds to serve him in so I am not afraid.”

Hearing this story reminded me of the Buddhist story I shared on the second day of Rosh Hashanah when I spoke about the quality of menuchat nefesh - equanimity and the need to cultivate a settled spirit. 

When the political flood waters are rising, as they are this week, there's reason for hope and there's reason for deep anxiety. The question is how do we settle our spirits? In what can we take refuge?

As the Buddha tells it,

“A fierce and terrifying band of samurai was riding through the countryside, bringing fear and harm wherever they went. As they were approaching one particular town, all the monks in the town’s monastery fled, except for the abbot. When the band of warriors entered the monastery, they found the abbot sitting at the front of the shrine room in perfect posture. The fierce leader took out his sword and said, “Don’t you know who I am? Don’t you know that I’m the sort of person who could run you through with my sword without batting an eye?” The Zen master responded, “And I, sir, am the sort of man who could be run through by a sword without batting an eye.”

About this story the great teacher Sylvia Boorstein writes, 
“Our own benevolence is actually the protection that renders enemies impotent. In [depictions of this story], as the spears and arrows come to touch the shield around the Buddha, they fall to the ground as flowers all around him. I like to think of those flowers as an illustration of how each of us, by cultivating steadfast goodwill, can dissolve the forces of confusion and fear in the world.” 

This week’s parsha, Noach, offers insight into how our own benevolence can be a source of refuge. Genesis 6:9 begins, 

“These are the generations of Noah; Noah was a righteous man, and wholehearted in his generations.”

In the Hebrew, Noah is identified as tzadik (righteous) and tamim (wholehearted), but these qualities are contextualized by the simple words that follow, בְּדֹרֹתָיו - in his generations. Which has led all subsequent generations to ask, Would Noah have been considered righteous in our time? Was Noah righteous relative to his not-so-good generation (low bar) or in spite of it (high bar)? One can make the argument either way. But I am most compelled by the argument of Reish Lakish, who taught that if Noah was righteous in his generation, surrounded by corruption, imagine how righteous and good-natured he would have been in other generations when he was surrounded by goodness (B.T. Sanhedrin 108a).

Rabbi Oshaya imagines Noah, in his righteousness, to be like a flask of perfume or even the best essential oils, in the presence of a stench - it can actually purify the air. Which is to say, our goodness serves us, it protects us, and it also transforms the experience of those around us. 

This parsha gives us a second insight. In the face of doom and chaos, the Holy One tells Noah, ’bo el hateva - go into the teva”. The word teva is most often translated as ark, but it can also mean the word or even a bar of music. A teva is a place of refuge. It is the basket that saves Moses in the Nile. It is music and poetry. It is something we can enter and also an indestructible place deep within us.

This shabbat, I invite you to hear the words of the Holy One. To build your refuge and enter it. To exit the noise of the news, the endless alerts, to invite in the quiet. And to emerge with a renewed commitment to wholehearted righteousness. To generosity, to kindness, to giving others and yourself the benefit of the doubt. And to trust that your benevolence will protect you in these times.