אַתָּה גִבּוֹר לְעוֹלָם אֲדֹנָי מְחַיֶּה מֵתִים אַתָּה רַב לְהוֹשִׁיעַ: מוֹרִיד הַטָּל / מַשִּׁיב הָרוּחַ וּמוֹרִיד הַגֶּשֶׁם: מְכַלְכֵּל חַיִּים בְּחֶסֶד מְחַיֵּה מֵתִים בְּרַחֲמִים רַבִּים סוֹמֵךְ נוֹפְלִים וְרוֹפֵא חוֹלִים וּמַתִּיר אֲסוּרִים וּמְקַיֵּם אֱמוּנָתוֹ לִישֵׁנֵי עָפָר, מִי כָמוֹךָ בַּעַל גְּבוּרוֹת וּמִי דּוֹמֶה לָּךְ מֶלֶךְ מֵמִית וּמְחַיֶּה וּמַצְמִיחַ יְשׁוּעָה: וְנֶאֱמָן אַתָּה לְהַחֲיוֹת מֵתִים: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה’ מְחַיֵּה הַמֵּתִים – You are mighty forever, my Master; You are the Resurrector of the dead the Powerful One to deliver us.
He causes the dew to descend / Causer of the wind to blow and of the rain to fall.
Sustainer of the living with kindliness, Resurrector of the dead with great mercy, Supporter of the fallen, and Healer of the sick, and Releaser of the imprisoned, and Fulfiller of His faithfulness to those who sleep in the dust. Who is like You, Master of mighty deeds, and who can be compared to You? King Who causes death and restores life, and causes deliverance to sprout forth.
And You are faithful to restore the dead to life. Blessed are You, Hashem, Resurrector of the dead.

Might and Strength

This blessing invites us to consider the capacity of divine might and its relevance to our lived experience. It speaks of God’s eternal strength, the power to bring dew and rain, the resurrection of the dead, the cyclical journey of life and death, and all kinds of revival, challenging us to find relatability in difficult concepts.

The perspective this blessing takes is that omnipotence is not abstract; it manifests in the very fabric of creation and life. Intimately connected to Yitzchak, the avatar of might and severity, Yitzchak’s narrative is also associated with strength and the resurrection of the dead. Our sages teach that allowing Avraham to stand over him with the knife was an act of strength and that his soul departed that moment but was restored to life and, in that moment, perfected the archetype of strength for his descendants.
yitzchsak is ketz chai
and vayiketz

Strength not kindness

This raises an intriguing question, though. We would naturally assume that life-giving is more associated with kindness than strength; why does the power of life feature so prominently in a blessing praising God’s strength?

Perhaps the answer lies in the notion that a life worth living is won through strength, sacrifice, and willingness to give of oneself. Yitzchak earns resurrection and eternity through his demonstration of ultimate strength: not with physical power but with deep courage and determination, spiritual steel, and a mentality of unshakeable resolve that made him ready to give his life for a higher purpose. In this reading, strength is a force that brings life and defies the finality of death; divine might is life-affirming.

Might is seen in the world.

God’s might can be experienced but in the foundational principles that govern existence; it is in the world that God’s strength is made evident in the ability to imbue creation with life, order, and purpose – אַתָּה גִבּוֹר לְעוֹלָם.

Strength is most commonly perceived as physical prowess. However, our sages teach a more nuanced understanding of strength, emphasizing strength as mastery over oneself, over one’s impulses and desires. Especially in the context of the Creator, divine might is not about overpowering adversaries, for none exist, but is about the inherent sovereignty and self-sufficiency of the Divine will.

In giving life and blessings to the wicked, we see God’s boundless capacity, might at play, the attribute of overcoming or prevailing, the source of our fundamental belief in the potential for transformation and redemption irrespective of past actions. In sharing the righteous with us, the people who make our world better, we see God’s might in sharing them with us.

With no counterpart, God can not do anything for another. Humans fail and make mistakes in a world that operates within the framework of free will and moral choice. Against the limitations and imperfections inherent in creation itself, we experience the Creator’s might in commitment to sustaining creation, guiding it towards fulfillment, and perfecting it from within – אַתָּה גִבּוֹר לְעוֹלָם.

Forever

We live in a temporal universe with laws of thermodynamics, where energy and power wane. As this blessing states, God’s strength is not subject to time or decay, something entirely outside our frame of reference. Eternal might is not a function of enduring strength but an expression of God’s immutable essence.

Even a magical fountain of youth or elixir of life would still only represent a weak attempt to escape the ravages of time; God’s might is eternal, not because it lasts forever in a temporal sense, but because it transcends time itself – אַתָּה גִבּוֹר לְעוֹלָם.

 לְעוֹלָם אֲדֹנָי – Eternal Master

This phrase captures the concept of God as Master and First Cause, predating all existence. This idea delves deep into the philosophical and mystical dimensions of Jewish thought, particularly exploring the significance of the Hebrew alphabet in articulating the nature of the Divine.

The first letter of the Hebrew alphabet, Aleph, symbolizes the primordial aspect of the Divine, indicating that God precedes all creation, which starts with Beis – Bereishis. Aleph before Beisunderscores the concept of God as the ultimate origin, the Alpha or First Cause that exists beyond the confines of time and space, the unity behind the universe. More cryptically, the composition of the letter Aleph is a diagonal Vav and two Yuds, totaling 26, the numerical value of the name emphasizing God’s eternal nature as what is, was, and will be.

Yud is the first letter that combines all preceding elements in the divine hierarchy and signifies the concentration of Divine energy and potential. It represents the principle that the entirety of creation, with all its complexity and diversity, originates from a singular, unified source. This underscores the belief that all existence flows from a small thing or singular point. This concept resonates with the Kabbalistic understanding of the emanation of the divine light and the Big Bang theory of creation.

The name of God as Master further enriches our understanding of God’s relationship with the world. The combination of the letters Aleph, Yud, and the Hebrew word for judgment encapsulates the dual aspects of God’s mastery over creation: as both the compassionate sustainer and the righteous judge. This duality reflects the complex nature of Divine governance, which encompasses mercy and judgment, guiding the unfolding of creation according to the principles of justice and benevolence.

Judge the long-term

The Divine role as Master and Judge of all creation entails making hard choices, balancing kindness with strength, and navigating the intricacies of justice in a world characterized by moral and existential challenges; it is difficult when people suffer. This Divine balancing act is not predicated on the moment’s immediacy but is oriented toward the long-term fulfillment of creation’s potential.

We praise God for taking the long-term view, guided by an eternal perspective and transcending the limitations of the present – אַתָּה גִבּוֹר לְעוֹלָם

God’s actions are guided by an eternal perspective, transcending the limitations of the present and envisioning the ultimate good that emerges from the divine plan.

The next world

Taking the long view and extrapolating it further, when considered in a spiritual and eschatological context, God acts not just for eternity, and not just in the world of here and now, but also the next world – אַתָּה גִבּוֹר לְעוֹלָם

This teaching suggests God’s might transcends linear time as an expression of the Divine promise and presence that encompasses all realms of existence and suggests continuity between this world and the next.

Our sages teach that this world, this plane of existence, is the arena for action, challenge, and growth, where human beings can exercise free will, with Torah and mitzvos as our guiding stars. The next world, or the World to come, is understood as the realm of ultimate reward, spiritual fulfillment, and the realization of the Divine plan in its most complete form.

This blessing affirms that the two are linked and that our lives and spiritual endeavors are not isolated or ephemeral but deeply interconnected with the eternal flow of Divine purpose; we are being guided – אַתָּה גִבּוֹר לְעוֹלָם.

Understanding God’s might as encompassing both this world and the next enriches our appreciation of the Divine attributes of justice, mercy, and redemption. It assures us that this world’s complexities and apparent injustices are part of a larger, divine narrative that will find resolution in the world to come.

Power in silence

The Roman general Titus, a military commander serving in the Land of Israel, besieged and captured Jerusalem and destroyed the city and the Second Beis Hamikdash. Our sages teach that Titus blasphemed and desecrated the hallowed place, taking a prostitute over a Torah scroll, then drawing his sword and piercing the veil that separated the sanctuary from the Holy of Holies, and miraculously, blood appeared. Seeing the blood, he took it as a sign that he had succeeded in killing God.

In response to this outrageous, shocking offense, the sages reinterpreted praise from the famous Song of the Sea: not who is like you among the mighty, Hashem? But instead, who is like you among mute and silent? מִי כָמֹֽכָה בָּאֵלִם/ בָּאלמִם.

This reinterpretation suggests that might can also manifest as silence, a concept that challenges conventional understandings of power and response. R’ Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld suggests that this is precisely why our sages used the victory song at the Red Sea as their proof text. People can be silent in the face of degradation for many reasons: fear, inability, weakness, or counterintuitively, a deliberate choice rooted in strength. There are few better historical examples of God’s strength on display than the Red Sea when God destroyed the military power of the greatest empire in the world with a gust of wind.

God’s power is not in question; silence in the face of Titus’s blasphemy was an act of strength, not an absence of power.

Silence is a form of might; restraint can be more powerful than action or retaliation. When someone insults your loved ones or takes a cheap shot, it’s easy to respond with violence, and, especially if you’re capable, very hard not to; choosing not to act can require greater strength – אַתָּה גִבּוֹר לְעוֹלָם.

Hidden

Moreover, as finite beings bound by time, our existence is limited from one moment to the next; everyone worries about the future. We believe that the Creator acts for eternity, for the future, and for the world to come – לְעוֹלָם.

But fundamentally, while we can grapple with the grander picture, those are things we cannot see, know, or hope to understand. By definition, those things are not here; they are obscured from us definitionally—he’elam.

God is informed by a perspective that transcends our temporal limitations, a view we cannot access and could never hope to share; the prophets could never hope to understand. Human comprehension is inherently incapable of adopting the God’s eye view on things. Some frustrating books suggest that you negate yourself; you only feel bad because you have thoughts and feelings and want things, and if you could be objective, you would let go of those attachments and be happy. However, our subjective experience is as humans living in bodies; it makes no sense to invalidate the entire lived experience for a perspective we cannot have.

The conceptual gap is exemplified in this prayer, which traditionally consists of 49 words, symbolizing the levels of purity, impurity, understanding, and elements of creation, reflecting the complexity and depth of Divine governance over the universe.

Knowledge

For humans, knowledge of something is distinct from the thing itself. A computer, for instance, operates based on instructions; it possesses instructions but is separate from the knowledge embedded within those instructions. In contrast, to know something for God is to be one with that knowledge. This unity suggests that, from the Divine perspective, everything exists as pure information; the distinction between the knower and the known collapses, illustrating a profound level of omniscience and omnipotence.

Fascinatingly, in the hierarchy of what explains the universe, there is a small but growing voice among cutting-edge physicists arguing that causality in the universe doesn’t start with matter but with information, that the universe is a physical system that contains and processes information, that all changes in the universe are computations of different variables.

Imagine a child seeing a plane in the sky; the child can certainly understand aspects of their experience. Both simple and magical, the child sees the shape of the aircraft, its impressive size diminished by distance, and hears the distant roar of its engines. The child understands this machine flies, carrying people across vast distances faster than a car or train.

The child is oblivious to the intricate physics of aerodynamics, the principles of lift, drag, thrust, and weight that allow the plane to soar. The child has no clue about the sophisticated engineering behind the aircraft’s design, the advanced mathematical calculations that ensure its structural integrity, or the materials science that goes into its construction. The child does not see the complexities of piloting the aircraft, the vast array of instruments and lights in the cockpit, the training and skill required to navigate and communicate, or the global air traffic control network that coordinates the safe passage of flights worldwide. The child has no concept of the logistics involved in commercial aviation, route planning, flight scheduling, fleet management, and ground services support and maintenance, let alone the knock-on effects like economic and environmental considerations that influence the aviation industry, from fuel efficiency and emissions to market demand and regulatory compliance.

The child’s experience is valid. Look! There’s a plane in the sky.

Knowledge is power

Our sages teach that the Torah is the blueprint for Creation and all existence. This analogy suggests a deep relationship between the Torah and the world. At a basic level, one might differentiate between the instructions and the creation, perceiving them as distinct entities where the Torah might guide our navigation in the world. However, a deeper insight reveals that reality itself is an expression of the Torah, where the utterance “Let there be light” is not just a command that has a separate existence from reality but is the emanation of Divine wisdom that materializes and is experienced as light. Because in the realm of the Divine, there is no distinction between access to and control of information; they merge into a single reality, where the deepest knowledge of a thing is the thing itself.

The most profound understanding dissolves the separation between knowledge and existence, where the deepest knowledge of something is to be that thing. In this perspective, God’s knowledge of the universe is not external or additional to the universe; rather, the universe exists as a direct manifestation of God’s knowledge. This understanding challenges our conventional distinctions between creator and creation, suggesting an intrinsic unity where Divine will and the fabric of reality are one and the same.

Thought experiment

If you imagine a child in the park, the child is a construct or idea that exists purely within the four corners of your mind, intangible, invisible to others, yet vivid and clear to you. If you want to manipulate the environment, the weather, hair color, or anything, it’s as simple as thinking about it; access to and control of the information are the same, merged into a single reality.

When God creates, it is akin to divine imagination manifesting into reality. For God, to imagine is to create; the knowledge of the thing is the thing itself, highlighting a fundamental aspect of Divine omniscience and omnipotence – אַתָּה גִבּוֹר לְעוֹלָם.

The unfolding of the world, and by extension, the trajectory of our individual lives, can be understood as a direct manifestation of God’s knowledge. Every challenge and obstacle we encounter, every moment that shapes our existence, is part of a divine projection of how the universe unfolds, meticulously aligned with God’s profound understanding and purpose – אַתָּה גִבּוֹר לְעוֹלָם.

Everything in our lives, from the seemingly mundane to the profoundly significant, are not random occurrences but are intricately designed within the context of the depth and longevity of God’s eternal plan, taking the long-term view, taking into account the world to come and everything concealed and hidden, extending far beyond our immediate perception and understanding – אַתָּה גִבּוֹר לְעוֹלָם.

Acknowledging that every occurrence in our lives requires an enormous amount of God’s might to configure, align, and arrange the universe accordingly offers a humbling perspective on our place within creation. It invites us to recognize the intricate web of causality and divine will that underpins every aspect of existence. This recognition not only deepens our appreciation for the complexity and beauty of the world but also encourages us to trust in the divine process, understanding that our lives are guided by a wisdom far more significant than our own – אַתָּה גִבּוֹר לְעוֹלָם.

In this context, navigating life’s challenges and embracing opportunities become acts of faith and alignment with the divine will. We are called to engage with our lives and the world around us with purpose and trust, knowing that our paths are part of a larger, divine tapestry. This perspective fosters a profound sense of connection to the Divine, empowering us to face the uncertainties of life with courage and confidence, secure in the knowledge that we are part of God’s eternal and mightful unfolding of the universe.

The complexities of health and illness, well-being and suffering, reflect a nuanced aspect of Divine orchestration in the world. When we consider the multifaceted factors leading to someone’s illness — the intricate interplay of genetics, environment, lifestyle, and beyond — it becomes evident that many conditions and events must align for health to be disrupted. This perspective invites us to recognize not only the Divine might inherent in the process of healing but also the might involved in the unfolding of illness itself.

Life happens. People get sick and have all sorts of issues. But taking a step back, a lot has to happen for someone to get sick, considering the intricate interplay of genetics, environment, lifestyle, and beyond. There is a might inherent in the process of healing, but also recognize the might involved in the unfolding of the illness itself, on both sides of the equation, a reoccurrence of the concept of supreme power – אֵל עֶלְיוֹן.

As the supreme power with sovereignty over all aspects of creation, the Creator’s might is manifest in the very fabric of existence, in the ordering of the cosmos, and the detailed specifics of our lives, encompassing both the positive and negative experiences we encounter, whatever the outcome – אַתָּה גִבּוֹר לְעוֹלָם

Reflecting on the Creator’s track record as reflected in the Torah and stories of our sages and ancestors amid the broader tapestry of Jewish history, we encounter a recurring theme of Divine intervention that reveals profound lessons about justice, strength, and purpose. From the Exodus through today, it is a safe bet that the Creator has a plan; it might not be the path that suits us best in the short run, and it might be a path that ends well for any particular person, but it always goes somewhere constructive – אַתָּה גִבּוֹר לְעוֹלָם

In the early years of the Soviet Union, the regime was brutalizing and suppressing religious activity. The Lubavitcher Rebbe was arrested and interrogated at gunpoint with a smirk. “This toy has a way of making people cooperate.” The rebbe heroically replied: “That toy is persuasive to one who has many gods and only one world; I have One G‑d and two worlds.”

In a variant form, it has been said that someone who fears One fears none, but one who fears many fears any.

A person with moral clarity navigates life with an unwavering sense of purpose and direction. This clarity is not merely an intellectual understanding of right and wrong but a deep, internalized conviction that shapes every decision and action. Such individuals are characterized by their resolve and courage, standing firm in their principles even in the face of adversity or danger. Even the fear of death shrinks in the light of their convictions; there is no confusion when confronting matters of moral significance.

Yitzchak is the archetype of this conviction, the epitome of might and strength. He fearlessly faces off with death out of perfect moral clarity and faith. He freely walks with his father and allows himself to be bound and offered as a sacrifice, highlighting his deep understanding and acceptance of what is right according to his faith.

His readiness to walk towards what might have been his death without fear stems not just from obedience but from a profound belief in the continuity of existence beyond this world. Yitzchak’s conduct reveals his acknowledgment of a reality more significant than this life, anchored in the belief in something beyond and in his absolute certainty in the existence of one God, which provided him with a clear moral compass.

Forever

If these perspectives of God’s might are meaningful, then they might be particularly profound in the context of creation and free will. When we imagine something, that creation depends entirely on our will; it has no autonomy and cannot defy our intentions. The creatures of your imagination are slaves to your thoughts; they cannot hurt you and will never disappoint you. However, God’s creation of human beings is fundamentally different. By granting humans free will, God imbues creation with the capacity for independence for choice, which includes the possibility of rejecting or failing to recognize the Creator.

There is supreme might and power in creating beings capable of choosing or denying their creator. Humans can choose to trust or distrust, follow or reject God. This potential for rebellion or disbelief is what makes the gift of life and free will so profound. It underscores a might that is willing to risk vulnerability for the sake of genuine relationship and love – אַתָּה גִבּוֹר לְעוֹלָם

The allowance for this choice, the possibility of turning away from God, underscores the eternal aspect of God’s might. If God had not provided this option, all creation would operate on a short-term, deterministic basis, lacking the depth and potential for growth, relationship, and moral development. The opportunity to choose God, align one’s will with the Divine, emulate God’s attributes, and participate in the ongoing act of creation and redemption gives life its ultimate meaning and purpose.

Divine might and strength are more than the power to create and sustain; they are also the freedom of creation to choose. Strength is not just about control or dominance but also about the capacity to love, to grant autonomy, and to invite relationship despite the inherent risks – אַתָּה גִבּוֹר לְעוֹלָם.

מְחַיֶּה מֵתִים אַתָּה רַב לְהוֹשִׁיעַ – You are the Resurrector of the dead the Powerful One to deliver us.

One of Judaism’s articles of faith is that God has ultimate power over life and death and that one day, God will resurrect the dead; people who are long dead and gone will be reanimated to live and breathe once again.

Beyond the obvious and distinct idea focused solely on the miraculous restoration of life to the deceased, this phrase also serves as a nexus for a variety of themes within Judaism that affirm God as Creator, Sustainer, and Renewer of life, demonstrating how multiple ideas merge into an integrated understanding of Divine might and purpose.

What is it

In the mainstream consensus view, the arrival of Mashiach will herald an age of ultimate redemption and transformation, including supernatural events culminating in the resurrection of the dead. In this view, this period will see the revival of all Jews who have lived throughout history and who did not squander the merit to be resurrected. This belief in resurrection is more than a miraculous reversal of death; it represents a profound rectification of the world’s imperfections. It signifies the ultimate vindication of faith and virtue, a time when humanity’s spiritual and moral development reaches its culmination. The resurrection of the dead is seen as the terminal fulfillment of God’s promises to His people, a testament to His unwavering commitment and the eternal covenant between God and the Jewish people.

The waking of the deceased and their return to life is not merely a restoration of what was but a leap into a profoundly redeemed existence. In this redeemed world, the spiritual and material realms are harmonized, and the physical bodies of the resurrected are said to be free from the limitations and sufferings that characterize mortal life. This era is characterized by a direct and unmediated relationship between humanity and the Divine, with knowledge of God permeating every aspect of existence.

The resurrection thus serves as a powerful symbol of hope and faith, emphasizing that the trials and tribulations of this world are but a prelude to a future of perfect justice, peace, and spiritual fulfillment. It encourages individuals to live lives of righteousness, holding onto the belief that their actions contribute to the unfolding of this ultimate redemption. The promise of resurrection inspires a vision of the world as it could be, aligned with the will and wisdom of the Creator, where the bonds of death are broken, and life in its most exalted form is reclaimed.

Simple examples

Some examples are straightforward. The prophet Elijah prays and raises a young boy from death; his student Elisha resurrects another boy after prophesying his birth to a woman who had been kind to him. Years later, a funeral procession was interrupted by a band of raiders, and they dropped the dead man’s body into the dead Elisha’s tomb and ran for safety; when the dead man’s body touched Elisha’s grave, he came to life once again.

Our sages teach that the Jewish People at Sinai experienced revelation so intense and profound that it transcended human capacity to endure. Their souls left their bodies and had to be revived.

These resurrections preserve everything intact: the same people, in the same bodies, with the same souls, without any addition or subtraction.

Reincarnation

Jewish mysticism suggests an esoteric notion of reincarnation, the idea of souls cycling and recycling through lives or incarnations, being attached to or associated with different bodies over time, depending on their particular task in the physical world.

The notion of reincarnation introduces complex nuances to understanding the soul and its ultimate destiny in the context of resurrection and the World to Come. Some aspects of the literature and discourse seem to focus more on the soulful aspect of the World to Come, whereas Resurrection of the Dead appears to be grounded very much in the embodied existence of this world, this body. Mystical teachings suggest that there are no new souls; all souls are pre-owned or pre-loved and return to the world in different bodies across generations, raising intriguing questions about the resurrection of the dead and which incarnation of a soul would be revived.

Would you come back as yourself from the lifetime you consciously know? Or as the woodcutter from the Middle Ages?

This question touches on whether our soul is synonymous with our consciousness, especially in the context of reincarnation and resurrection, and delves into profound philosophical and theological territories. The distinction between soul and consciousness becomes particularly pronounced when considering the concept of reincarnation, where a soul may inhabit multiple bodies across different lifetimes without a continuous memory of its past incarnations.

The lack of memory from one life to the next suggests a lack of continuity of identity; if you do not remember past lives, the notion of “you” in the context of subsequent incarnations becomes complex and perhaps meaningless. This suggests that the soul may be constant, traversing through time and bodies. Still, the consciousness, what we experience as personal identity, memories, and experiences, is specific to each lifetime and not the same.

Mysticism teaches that the soul has an anatomy, each with its unique role and function. The root of the soul, or its most essential part, experiences various lifetimes, gathering experiences and fulfilling its corrections – Tikkunim.

A reincarnation is not a copy and paste of the soul’s experiences across lifetimes, but rather that each incarnation, each iteration consciousness associated with a soul’s fragment, root, source, or spark, has its own unique significance and merit. Perhaps it’s something like another instance of software running on standard hardware; it’s not the same program but runs on similar tooling. Everybody, every consciousness, every individual, is still unique from person to person, even within a framework of reincarnation, and a simple yet profound explanation is that all expressions of the soul’s journey are acknowledged and resurrected. Revival of the dead is the restoration of all lifetimes of the soul without pretending to understand how the transfer or restoration of consciousness might work – מְחַיֶּה מֵתִים אַתָּה רַב לְהוֹשִׁיעַ.

Example

Within the parameters of reincarnation, particularly through the lens of fixing specific aspects of the soul across lifetimes, each lifetime is viewed as an opportunity for the soul to address and rectify different facets of its imperfections or to fulfill its unique mission.

If Reuven lives a wholesome and high-quality life filled with good deeds but neglects one specific spiritual task or fails to correct the one misdeed he was supposed to, an aspect of Reuven’s soul returns as Shimon. If Shimon also lives a wholesome and high-quality life filled with good deeds but, like Reuven, misses that one particular aspect, the soul is still incomplete and imperfect, illustrating reincarnation’s complexity.

Reuven and Shimon’s lifetimes are not worthless; they are not write-offs. On the contrary, they are wholesome and high-quality, precious and essential. The association and overlap between them are remote; their identities branch off early on in what constitutes the individual self and identity, moving beyond the idea of the soul as a singular, unchanging entity across lifetimes. They may share a root or spark, a common foundation that overlaps, but little else; each lifetime is an independent and separate manifesting of the soul’s essence with its own unique identity expressed by personality, circumstances, and challenges faced specific to each incarnation.

Practical

The idea that each individual has a unique mission in life sounds good, but there are a limited amount of virtues, so at face value, at least, they would appear to be commoditized. Everyone has to work on their anger and patience, after all.

While the mission may be shared, the objectives are unique; only you can achieve what is expected within the parameters of your life. The context in which we are called to develop these virtues and how we achieve them are deeply individual.

The uniqueness of one’s mission in life is not merely about the end goal but the journey and the methods employed to reach that goal. For one person, cultivating patience might involve learning to navigate the challenges of a demanding career without losing composure. For another, it might mean facing personal adversity or illness with grace and resilience.

Each individual’s mission unfolds within the unique parameters of life they are given. This includes their specific circumstances, challenges, personality, and the particular set of relationships and roles they occupy. The way one person is expected to exhibit patience will differ from another, not because the virtue itself is different but because the life situations calling for patience are unique to each person.

What this means, then, is that every person’s life is specific and non-fungible, meaning it cannot be exchanged or replicated in the life of another. The combination of soul, situation, and circumstances creates a unique path that only that individual can walk. This perspective emphasizes the intrinsic value and irreplaceability of each person’s contributions to the world.

You alone can do it; no one can do it for you.

Do-overs

Our sages suggest that Moshe was a reincarnation of an aspect of Noah. God warned Noah about the Flood, and Noah didn’t take the opportunity to argue with God. He didn’t try to save his world or give humanity a chance; he just left them to their fates without taking responsibility for anyone other than his family; everyone else wasn’t his problem.

Moshe grew up in the palace; he was a prince of Egypt, and a life of luxury and pleasure was his if he wanted. To distance himself from their struggles and remain in the comfort of Pharaoh’s palace, all he had to do was do nothing, but that was too difficult. He walked away from it all, chose to engage deeply with the Jewish People, and permanently tied his fate to theirs.

Moshe did Noach’s job, fixing what Noach could not.

Making amends perfectly, as described by Maimonides, occurs when an individual is confronted with the same scenario, circumstances, outlook, and condition as a previous failure but makes a different, positive choice. With the same building blocks and inputs, a person generates a different outcome; this concept emphasizes the power of free will and the capacity for human beings to change their course, embodying the essence of repentance and spiritual growth.

The function of reincarnation is to make amends on a particular element; souls are given opportunities across lifetimes to encounter similar challenges and make different choices, making amends for past misdeeds or failures, encompassing the collective destiny of the people and the world. It provides a mechanism for addressing and rectifying the spiritual shortcomings of the past.

Strong and mighty

Reviving the dead transcends the natural order, confronting and overcoming the most immutable law of the natural world: the finality of death. Reversing the ultimate limitation of the most irresistible force breaks the natural orders and showcases Divine might.

But it can also be understood metaphorically, extending the concept of reviving the dead to encompass a broader spectrum of human experiences of renewal and recovery.

Particularly for people who have worked in a medical setting, people can return to life from a state of cardiac arrest or cessation of breathing, literal and dramatic manifestations of a resurrection of the dead. Athletes have died on the field of globally televised sporting events, to be brought back from the brink of death through medical intervention, serving as powerful, tangible examples of life being renewed in the face of seemingly irreversible cessation – מְחַיֶּה מֵתִים אַתָּה רַב לְהוֹשִׁיעַ

In the context of individuals and families incapacitated by illness, people unable to lead a fulfilling life due to their physical conditions, there are instances of complete and miraculous recoveries, the return to a life of activity and engagement, often against all odds. This interpretation celebrates the Divine might in facilitating healing and restoration from a life of living, not only from the brink of death but also from conditions that severely limit one’s ability to live fully – מְחַיֶּה מֵתִים אַתָּה רַב לְהוֹשִׁיעַ

Moreover, there are moments in life when a person can be alive and breathing but feels spiritually or emotionally dead, empty, and hollow. The capacity exists for these people to find strength and life once again, and in particular, through the power of prayer, discovering renewed life they thought was lost; realizing the transformative power of faith and divine assistance in reviving one’s spirit, providing a path out of despair and into a renewed sense of purpose and vitality – a resurrection from the dead.

Even more broadly, the morning prayers thank God for returning our souls upon waking because sleeping is a little bit like death, or perhaps death is a little bit like sleeping. This suggests death extends beyond a physical state and encompasses the spiritual and existential dimensions. It suggests that life is characterized not merely by physical signs of life, such as breathing and brain activity, but by the presence of a soul fully engaged in purposeful action and choice.

It is possible to be in a form of waking death, meaninglessly existing without engaging in purposeful action, choice, or exercising one’s freedom of choice, even if biologically alive; the person’s soul is not engaging in its potential through action, growth, and decision-making.

As the Torah encourages us, we must choose life; a life without freedom is a form of death – ובחרת בחיים. Without making a choice, we have denied ourselves life. This principle suggests that the essence of life is found in our capacity to make choices that reflect our values, aspirations, and commitments. The act of choosing is what differentiates a life fully lived from mere existence. Through choice, we exercise our freedom, shape our destiny, and express the divine spark within us.

If sleeping and not doing anything is a form of death, then not choosing is also a form of death, highlighting the existential consequence of inaction and passivity. A life devoid of choice and active engagement is presented as a diminished form of existence, lacking the vitality and purpose that define true life. This perspective challenges us to consider how we might be living passively without making conscious choices that align with our deepest values and purpose.

Every moment in life must be intentional and implies a conscious engagement with our lives, where we are not merely drifting along with the flow of events but are actively shaping our journey according to our values and aspirations. It suggests a life lived with purpose, where each decision reflects a deliberate choice toward a desired future rather than being a passive reaction to circumstances.

The stagnation that comes from allowing yesterday’s decisions to dictate today’s actions without reflection or reassessment can be a circular path that leads nowhere new, stifling growth and preventing meaningful progress. It is essential to choose, to break free from the inertia of past choices, and to forge a new path reflective of our current understanding and aspirations.

Axis of choice

While free will is granted, it isn’t equal between people. The point of choice, the axis of our decision-making, varies from person to person. How many choices do we make from habit, convenience, or genuine reflection and discernment?

Not taking action can also be an incredible choice as well; restraint and submission are also forms of exercising free will, such as when Yitzchak cooperates with his father at Mount Moriah, and when Ahron remains silent when his two eldest sons die in a tragic accident. Both are examples of supreme acceptance and trust in God’s judgment in the face of profound challenges.

If you choose to do something a million times, it becomes the default; the true test of free will lies in decisions that push us beyond our comfort zones. In Jewish thought, reward is often associated with this struggle, with choosing to do good, especially when it is difficult or counterintuitive.

Actions that become automatic or are performed without conscious engagement rarely represent the pinnacle of spiritual achievement. For instance, choosing not to assault or rob the elderly today does not reflect a significant exercise of free will for most people, as these actions fall well outside the acceptable moral framework for society, that is not a point of choice or axis of decision-making for decent people.

Making different choices

Our sages teach that the righteous are still considered alive even in death, while the wicked are considered dead even during their lifetimes. This teaching suggests a more nuanced understanding of what it means to be alive based on spiritual vitality, ethical conduct, and the capacity for choice.

According to this perspective, true life is characterized not merely by biological functions but by the quality of one’s choices and their alignment with one’s higher self and divine will. In this context, the capacity to make choices rooted in awareness, morality, and spirituality is what imbues an individual’s existence with life; life and death are not binary but exist on a spectrum.

A newborn baby has never made a choice, and Jewish life cycle events celebrate the attainment of milestones along this spectrum, a fuller sense of life and maturity at Bar and Bas Mitzvah, emphasizing the role of conscious choice in defining spiritual vitality. As individuals mature and navigate the moral landscape of their lives, their series of choices can either enhance their alignment with their spiritual essence or lead them away from it.

When people make negative choices repeatedly until such actions become second nature, the capacity to choose differently gets smaller and smaller until it vanishes, and vice versa. Habitual actions can create spiritual inertia, distancing individuals from their ability to choose freely and align with their true nature.

A person smoking a pack of cigarettes a day for fifty years will need a cigarette in the morning. They can decide to quit and throw them all away, but will suffer severe withdrawal and will need help and interventions; the further away a person gets from natural choices where body and soul are aligned and in sync, the less alive a person is. Entrenched habits can dominate the ability to make free choices, reflecting a state of existence that is increasingly dead in the spiritual sense.

This dissonance between one’s actions and essence leads to a diminished state of being, where the capacity for meaningful choice and spiritual growth is compromised. Conversely, striving to make choices that reflect our higher selves, even in the face of difficulty or temptation, represents a movement towards greater spiritual vitality and life.

Connection is life

In Moshe’s parting speech to the Jewish People, he taught the concept that life is defined by the connection between the body and the soul and, more fundamentally, by the soul’s connection to God – Atem Hadveikim B’Hashem Elokeichem Chaim Kulchem Hayom (Devarim 4:4).

This teaching emphasizes the importance of nurturing the soul’s connection to its Divine source as the essence of true life. This connection sustains us, providing strength, guidance, and purpose. Through this divine attachment, individuals can experience a life that is fully alive and imbued with spiritual vitality and meaning.

In light of this teaching, death is the disintegration of the connection between body, soul, and God; the body returns to the earth, and the soul returns to the ether.

In our lives

Life occasionally presents us with wake-up calls, intense, pivotal experiences or realizations that reveal who we are, where we see ourselves truly for a moment, the course our lives are taking, all the things we have done, and the people we have hurt.

These can be near-death experiences or some other trigger for deep introspection that strips away the superficial layers of our existence, compelling us to face the core of who we are and what we value most. These moments can be jarring, exposing our shortcomings and misdirections with objective clarity. Yet, within this discomfort lies a powerful opportunity for growth, personal awakening, and transformation.

These moments of stark vulnerability can be a breath of life, with the power to bring profound self-realization and change into our lives, fixing our shortcomings and righting our wrongs, paving the way for true healing and renewal.

That is deliverance, a moment of resurrection of the dead – מְחַיֶּה מֵתִים אַתָּה רַב לְהוֹשִׁיעַ.

רַב לְהוֹשִׁיעַ

The universe is a big place; the Creator saves lots of people all the time.

Life is just a series of moments, each offering the possibility for change, growth, and revival; Divine grace extends to us continuously, providing opportunities for awakening and transformation at every turn – רַב לְהוֹשִׁיעַ.

Life and death, and everything in between, happen in a moment. It happens to others, and it happens to everyone; it will happen to you. Every second of life is another renewal, another chance, highlighting the constant presence of Divine might in the world, in the subtle, everyday moments where we shift from disconnection or despair towards vitality and purpose. In this way, God’s power is manifest in every point along the spectrum of life and death, inviting us to recognize and embrace the potential for transformation inherent in our existence.

There are times most people have been depressed, dead, and buried; times people have been ill; times people have been paralyzed physically or metaphorically; and sleeping, including spiritually. Each of these has its own continuum as well: severely depressed, melancholy, feeling blue, and just a little sad. The moments we’ve felt energized, eager, switched, and excited, looking forward with anticipation, and everything in between.

These are the forces of life and death at play in our lives, manifest in our lives every moment, and it’s in God’s hands entirely. They serve as a reminder of the ever-present opportunity for renewal and the potential for transformation – מְחַיֶּה מֵתִים אַתָּה רַב לְהוֹשִׁיעַ.

Acting on it

Recognizing the potential for transformation is essential, especially during periods when we need it most, moments of anxiety, depression, and frustration, and moments when we find ourselves retreating from the realm of active choice. Periods characterized by emotional or spiritual stagnation can feel like a form of living death, where the vibrancy of life seems dimmed, and our capacity to engage with the world and make choices feels severely limited.

Acknowledging these transformative moments within ourselves involves a deep awareness and acceptance of our fluctuating states. Emerging from these depths, turning around from states of depression and frustration, embodies the essence of renewal and resurrecting the dead – מְחַיֶּה מֵתִים אַתָּה רַב לְהוֹשִׁיעַ.

When the darkness ends, when that phase turns around, bringing life to what once seemed lifeless, these turning points are often marked by a renewed sense of energy, clarity, and the re-emergence of choices that previously felt unattainable – מְחַיֶּה מֵתִים אַתָּה רַב לְהוֹשִׁיעַ.

Frequently, this resurgence is not just a return to a baseline mode of existence but often involves a profound breakthrough, a leap into a more engaged, vibrant, and purposeful way of living, breaking through a glass ceiling and reaching heights of personal development, and engagement with life that were once unimaginable.

It’s unilateral

One of the most profound aspects of the resurrection of the dead is that the act is unilateral and occurs independently of human effort, driven solely by divine initiative. This emphasizes the Divine might and omnipotence, capable of reviving the dead without any prerequisites such as human action, desire, or preparation.

This power showcases the Divine might like little else because even with nothing to work with, the Jewish souls that were burnt at the stake and whose bodies were desecrated in crematoria will also be reanimated.

God unilaterally brings life to the dead, to people who don’t want it, aren’t trying hard enough, or aren’t trying at all. God gives second, third, and fourth chances and brings us around, bringing us back to life at full strength; it is a comforting thought that even in our passivity or moments of spiritual lethargy, there is hope for renewal and revival.

At this point, the blessing references God’s power to bring dew and rain – מוֹרִיד הַטָּל

Our sages suggest that dew is the tool that contains the latent power to resurrect the dead at the End of Days. Dew is ordinary and unremarkable, abundant and ubiquitous. The simple function of a cold object in a warm environment is everywhere. As the object’s exposed surface cools by radiating heat, atmospheric moisture condenses faster than it evaporates, forming water droplets on the surface.

Things can look up once again; when we’re running cold, God saves us, bringing the dew everywhere, masterfully – רַב לְהוֹשִׁיעַ.

Like bringing the dew, God has been doing this for a long time and is the master of it. There are no surprises; everyone makes mistakes, and some people make many mistakes. There’s room for complete sinners to make amends, and everyone else, too.

Death is not the end.

As scientists continue to search for life in the universe, it seems like life is more of an exception than the norm. In this regard, death is not a departure but a return from a spiritual and philosophical perspective. The ultimate journey of the soul is not toward something unknown or alien but rather a return to its origin, to a state of unity with the Divine.

Death as a return rather than a departure shifts the focus from loss and finality to continuity and reunion, implying that our time in this world is temporary, a passage through which we gather experiences, learn, and grow, with the ultimate goal of returning enriched to our spiritual home. This perspective aligns with the belief that the soul pre-exists in its physical embodiment and that its earthly journey is a phase in its broader, eternal existence.

The ultimate closeness to the Divine, which is earned in this world through good deeds, finds its complete expression in Olam Haba, envisioned as a realm of reward, a state of existence where the soul experiences the fullness of its return to the Divine. It is here that the true purpose of creation is fulfilled in the soul’s reunion with its source. This eschatological belief underscores the idea that life in this world serves as a preparation, a series of choices and actions through which we strive to align ourselves with divine will and draw closer to God.

Our sages explain that it would be a degrading handout for souls to remain in Heaven basking in the ethereal light for eternity—the bread of shame. Unearned rewards can be inherently empty and meaningless, unsatisfying and even humiliating for the soul; our souls are placed into bodies so we can earn our piece of Heaven.

The Ramchal posits that real Divine might is manifested not in the mere act of creation or in bestowing blessings upon creations but in the intentional forcing of distance between God and humanity. This separation is a profound act of kindness, providing us with the space and opportunity to overcome challenges, make moral choices, and grow spiritually, thereby earning our closeness to the Divine. This journey, filled with trials and opportunities for growth, allows us to achieve a sense of accomplishment and worthiness that could never be attained through gifts alone.

Our souls can make mistakes across countless lifetimes without draining the infinite patience and kindness of the Divine. Our spiritual development is not confined to a single lifetime but spans numerous incarnations; reincarnated across time, learning to be a better human being as another human being, and another, and another, one more act of kindness, one less hurtful remark.

We are supported not only by the tangible presence of our ancestors but also by the collective experiences and hopes of past lives on deeply interconnected spiritual journeys across generations and lifetimes. Each iteration of our soul’s journey contributes to a larger tapestry of growth, learning, and aspiration towards fulfillment.

That chain of ancestors, spiritual forebears, souls, and reincarnations is cheering and rooting for you. We celebrate and welcome a baby into the world before it understands its own existence; we are perceived and supported by the Divine and our spiritual predecessors at every step of our journey, and our growth and efforts are acknowledged and valued, even when we might not fully comprehend their significance.

God gives us another go each lifetime, each day, and each second, speaking to the infinite patience and generosity of the Divine. Each moment is a series of opportunities for renewal and redemption, a chance to align more closely with our spiritual purpose.

The Creator continuously breathes life into situations and souls that might seem lost or lifeless, a cause for celebration, highlighting the endless capacity for revival and transformation and the boundless compassion of the Divine, highlighting continual presence and support in our lives, offering us countless chances to return, improve, and progress – מְחַיֶּה מֵתִים אַתָּה רַב לְהוֹשִׁיעַ.

מְכַלְכֵּל חַיִּים בְּחֶסֶד מְחַיֵּה מֵתִים בְּרַחֲמִים רַבִּים

This blessing is frequently associated with might and severity within the context of Yitzchak, but God’s might is characterized by a quality that differentiates it from human expressions of might. One crucial aspect of this difference is that God’s might manifests in kindness מְכַלְכֵּל חַיִּים בְּחֶסֶד.

In the Darwinian view, the natural world is a competitive place where every creature is in an existential struggle to survive that operates largely on the principle of survival of the fittest, where the strong survive at the expense of the weak. This framework values might and dominance, often leading to a cycle of competition and exploitation.

In contrast, the Divine approach is rooted in loving-kindness, not superiority. Where there might have been the ultimate vulnerability of death and nothingness, instead, we find the most profound expressions of kindness in life and existence – מְכַלְכֵּל חַיִּים בְּחֶסֶד.

This suggests a leadership, strength, and power model that prioritizes care, support, and the promotion of life and well-being over the exploitation of others.

מְכַלְכֵּל חַיִּים בְּחֶסֶד מְחַיֵּה מֵתִים בְּרַחֲמִים רַבִּים

Kindness and compassion are benevolent emotions but are distinct and manifest differently with separate underlying motivations.

The phrase opens with kindness, just as the Amida and Creation do, highlighting the intrinsic nature of God’s kindness as proactive and unconditional. Kindness is God’s predominant aspect, the mode through which God initiates everything else, and is inherent and flows from the Divine essence, independent of any external stimulus or precondition. God’s sustaining of life with kindness underscores a fundamental generosity and benevolence that seeks to give, nurture, and maintain the universe out of sheer goodness. It is an expression of love that does not await recognition or need but exists as a constant, underlining the nature of the Divine as eternally giving.

In contrast, compassion is somewhat more responsive and conditional and implies a reaction to a situation of lack, suffering, vulnerability, or need; you cannot feel bad for someone who doesn’t need help.

This distinction is crucial in understanding the dynamics of divine benevolence; while compassion addresses the gaps and heals the wounds within creation, kindness is the force that brings creation into being and sustains it, independent of its state.

Why is life kindness and revival compassion

This blessing attributes sustaining life to kindness and reviving the dead to compassion.

The act of sustaining life can be seen as an extension of Divine kindness because it is part of the ongoing process of the proactive act of Creation that nurtures and supports existence without prerequisite conditions. This continuous provision for all living beings, from the most basic needs to the complexities of growth and development, is considered an expression of kindness because it is given freely and generously, independent of the recipients’ merits or actions.

A child is born unable to learn or understand much about the world but possesses all the biological adaptations and instincts required for the rest of its life. Creation has instilled the child with the innate knowledge and capabilities to nurse, and the skills to learn how to walk and talk, and everything else. These capabilities are hardcoded into the human being, preceding our conscious efforts and achievements, underscoring proactive Divine kindness in all the unconditional aspects of care and preparation that go into our basic reality, without our having done anything to earn anything – מְכַלְכֵּל חַיִּים בְּחֶסֶד.

מְחַיֵּה מֵתִים בְּרַחֲמִים רַבִּים

Resurrecting the dead isn’t like that; it’s not for everyone, and it’s not freely given. It is contingent on certain merits, introducing a dimension of selectivity and conditionality, in contrast to kindness, which is proactive and unconditional benevolence. If the resurrection of the dead is based on the divine judgment of an individual’s merits, then it aligns more closely with the concept of compassion, which is inherently responsive and contingent.

Our sages record a profound exchange between the Egyptian Queen Cleopatra and Rabbi Meir. Sharing a belief in the resurrection of the dead, she asked Rabbi Meir whether individuals are resurrected, clothed, or naked.

Rabbi Meir responded with an allegory. A kernel of wheat grain is buried bare, and when it sprouts into its new phase of life, it emerges covered with leaves and stalks; it follows that a human being buried clothed in shrouds will be resurrected with clothes.

This exchange initially seems to concern the superficial aspects of resurrection but captures considerations about human dignity and a powerful blend of deep wisdom and insight.

What’s a body

There is a view that if a person dies ill or with their body broken, they will be resurrected in that exact way for a split second, after which their body transforms, instantly healed and rejuvenated to maximum strength and capacity, with a perfect, celestial, mythological body.

The Torah’s origin story of humanity describes the relationship between Noah’s sons; Noah blesses Japheth and asks him to associate with Shem. This understood to be a blessing that the world of aesthetics, physical and intellectual beauty are the domain of Yefet, traditionally associated with Greek culture; and for that to be associated with the spiritual legacy of Shem, from whom the Jewish People are descended.

In this reading, the world of physical and intellectual beauty are good things, not bad. The remarkable contributions of Greek civilization to art, philosophy, and science have shaped the world we know. Greek culture celebrated the human form and mind, laying the foundations for Western aesthetics, philosophy, and scientific inquiry.

However, the shortcoming in the world of beauty is when it severed from its association with spirituality; the Greeks emphasized beauty and intellect as ends in themselves. When beauty and intellect are pursued in isolation from moral and spiritual values, they can lead to a hollowing of the human experience, where depth of purpose and meaning is lost.

The holistic approach taken by the Torah integrates the domains of beauty, intellect, and spirituality. A healthy attitude to human development recognizes the value of each of these dimensions, seeking to harmonize them in a way that enhances personal and collective well-being. Beauty and intellect, when aligned with ethical and spiritual principles, have the potential to enrich human life and contribute to the flourishing of society.

BIG IDEA (dualism)
We often miscategorize the human body as a mundane physical thing, but spirituality is relative. Compared to the soul, sure, it’s true, the body is a low, physical thing; the second floor is lower than the third floor.

When the body is manipulated or treated as an end in itself, detached from its spiritual context and purpose. This approach reduces the body to a mere object of physical enhancement or pleasure, divorced from its deeper significance and potential for spiritual expression. When physicality is prioritized to the exclusion of spiritual values, we risk losing sight of the holistic nature of our existence and the interdependence of body and soul.

But in reality, the physicality of our bodies does not preclude their spiritual significance but, rather, is an integral aspect of our spiritual being, challening our conventional hierarchies and dichotomies.

While the body is often contrasted with the soul, categorizing the former as physical and the latter as spiritual, this dichotomy oversimplifies the complex nature of human beings. The body, rather than being merely a vessel or counterpoint to the soul, is an expression of our spiritual essence in the physical world. It is through our bodies that we interact with our environment, engage in acts of kindness and creativity, and experience growth and transformation. In this sense, the body can be viewed as a bridge between the physical and spiritual, capable of manifesting spiritual truths in tangible forms.

A Chassidic rebbe and his student were sitting together outside one day, and they both took an apple. Each said the blessing, answered the other, and began to eat. When they were finished, the teacher said to his student: “Do you know what just happened? You were hungry, so you made a blessing to eat the fruit. I was admiring the view and enjoying this beautiful day, and I picked up the apple so I could say a blessing.”

There is a way to live and move in the physical world that is completely spiritual.

The conventional understanding of blessings as a prerequisite or permission to engage with the physical world. In this view, the bracha serves as a spiritual gateway that sanctifies the act of consumption, making it permissible and meaningful within a religious framework. The primary objective is to enjoy the fruit, with the blessing facilitating this enjoyment in a manner aligned with Jewish law and tradition.

In the advanced perspective, the act of blessing is the primary goal of the interaction with the physical world. This approach suggests a life lived in devotion to fulfilling spiritual obligations and expressing gratitude to the Divine, with physical pleasures and needs serving as opportunities to fulfill these higher purposes. Here, the physical act of eating becomes a means to a spiritual end, transforming even mundane activities into acts of worship and connection with God.

Clothes

Our sages teach that our innermost being, our true essence, and spiritual identity, is the soul, which is encased in an outer layer in the form of a body, physical manifestation, which enables the soul to interact with the material world. In this sense, the body can be seen as clothing for the soul, a necessary layer that both protects and expresses the soul’s intangible qualities in a tangible form, a metaphor our sages use prominently – beged / levush

Expanding outward, our bodies also need clothes, which serve several functions: they offer physical protection and comfort, adhere to societal norms and expectations, and significantly act as a form of communication. Our sages view clothing as a form of dignity and honor, underscoring the idea that what we wear can elevate our respect for ourselves and others and signal aspects of our identity and status.

Clothing reveals something about the individual within; how we dress is more than superficial. It’s a selective unveiling of our personality, values, or mood. Properly dressed up, an individual is seen more completely by others. Conversely, when a person undresses in a public setting, people don’t see a person at all, just a body. Clothing, in this context, becomes a bridge between the inner self and the external world, offering cues to the character and essence of the person beneath.

The Hebrew word for nakedness is the same word the Torah uses to describe the archetypal snake in Eden in the sense of cunning deception – AROM CITE. This linguistic duality captures the complex interplay between appearance and essence, highlighting how outward manifestations can reveal or conceal the inner realities of an individual.

Being naked suggests being honest, exposed, and unadorned. Nakedness, in this sense, symbolizes vulnerability and authenticity, where nothing is hidden from view, and the individual stands bare, both physically and metaphorically.

However, this interpretation recognizes the idea of deceptive transparency, where the appearance of openness and honesty is employed as the tactic for manipulation or concealment. In this context, cunning is the strategic use of apparent vulnerability or honesty to achieve hidden aims, tricking others into believing they are seeing their true self when, in reality, they are being misled.

Are we resurrected in clothes?

Cleopatra wondered if resurrected bodies would be wearing clothes; beyond the literal and immediate concerns about the state of the body, this is a question about the nature of the resurrected body and its similarities and differences compared to our current physical forms.

On a deeper level, the question poses a broader inquiry about the nature of post-resurrection existence and whether it retains physical aspects that necessitate covering. Will a post-resurrection world retain some physical elements and social conventions?

Rabbi Meir’s answer was that when you plan a seed, a whole plant emerges; there is something fundamentally integral to Creation that generates clothing and covering. The soul is unable to operate in the physical world without a body; the body serves a critical role as the vehicle and interface for the soul’s expression and fulfillment of the divine in this world. Clothing extends this concept further, serving as a protective and dignifying extension of the body, which, by extension, honors the soul within.

As the proverb states, God’s honor is in being somewhat hidden; there is value in concealment and subtlety in revealing divine wisdom and presence. Just as the wheat kernel grows coverings to protect itself, symbolizing the natural order’s alignment with divine wisdom, the human body and the clothing it necessitates serve similar protective and dignifying functions, beautifully illustrating the balance between revelation and concealment inherent in creation and divine interaction with the world.

Humans are born naked; that is an act of kindness. When the dead are resurrected, their bodies will also be restored, healed, and covered, capturing God’s profound compassion and mercy for Creation, acknowledging human vulnerability and the intrinsic dignity and honor of the individual.

The question of how a spiritual God could create a physical world has intrigued theologians, philosophers, and believers across the ages. One answer propounded by Kabbala is the concept of Divine contraction or retraction, the space or vacuum God separates from God’s fullness so that the finite, physical world could have an independent existence and reality – Tzimtzum. This act of divine self-limitation is seen as a necessary precondition for creation, allowing for the emergence of a reality distinct from God’s all-encompassing Presence. Without Tzimtzum, the intensity of Divine Infinity would leave no room for the existence of a world of matter, evil, and free will.

The universe is clothing; an exterior of physicality that cloaks an inner soul and spirit, a manifestation of divine wisdom and intention. Clothing conceals and protects the body while also expressing aspects of an individual’s identity and status; the physical universe conceals the underlying spiritual realities while simultaneously expressing the Divine will. The material world is not devoid of spirituality at all but is imbued with deep purpose and meaning.

There is a sanctity and interconnectedness to all Creation; everything in the world, from the grandest cosmic phenomena to the smallest particles, reflects a spark of Divine light. The physical world is a place for reverence and curiosity, a place we can uncover the spiritual dimensions underlying our existence.

Making a blessing before using physical items is a key practice in Judaism that encapsulates the idea of engaging spiritual energy in the material world. By reciting a blessing, one acknowledges the Divine source of the item and its spiritual significance, transforming the act of consumption or use from a mundane activity into a religious activity that serves as a conduit for spiritual elevation and connection with God.

Kindness
(!ed Shlomo I don’t understand this)
More than we need oxygen, we need the kindness that sustains all existence.
god sustains life with chessed
hashem allows existence with kindness
our essence is fuled by kindness, powered by kindness
but resuscitation of the dead will be with mercy

more than we need oxygen, we need chessed
god acts mida kneged mida
if we get chessed, we must act with chessed
his chessed is because of ours
(shlomo – we said chessed is non reactive)

מְחַיֵּה מֵתִים בְּרַחֲמִים רַבִּים
god compassion will mirror ours
we need to practice compassion

the person comes back with a broken body that gets fixed
for whatever reason, the body had the sickness will carry over to revival
and will then be erased

if you cant run but go to the moon and can run, the place is different
(shlomo – i don’t understand this, needs work)

Later

The age of Mashiach is a time of redemption, characterized by unprecedented peace, understanding, and divine closeness. Central to this period is the profound expression of Divine compassion that permeates all aspects of existence, transforming not only the world’s spiritual and physical state but also the hearts and minds of its inhabitants.

If individuals were to be instantly restored to a state of health and wholeness without witnessing the transition from brokenness to healing, the profound depth of Divine compassion might be overlooked or taken for granted.

Understanding the extent of God’s kindness and compassion toward humanity should encourage a reciprocal awakening within ourselves. Recognizing our own profound need for compassion and kindness in every aspect of life should serve as a powerful catalyst for cultivating similar qualities toward others, with a deep sense of empathy, humility, and compassion for others in the same spirit with which it has been extended to us.

We are built to depend on God, to be attuned to others, and to recognize other people’s needs for kindness and compassion. Knowing how badly we need God’s kindness, the power of empathy helps us recognize the needs of others in a mirror fashion and respond with support.

Empathy is a mitzvah; the Torah commands the Jewish People to remember our collective experience as slaves in Egypt, reminding us of our own vulnerability and suffering and redirecting that memory into action by extending kindness to the convert, the stranger, and anyone else who might be marginalized or vulnerable. If kindness and compassion are the fabric of Creation and key tools to observe the Torah, it only follows that the formative experience of the Jewish People is a masterpiece in empathy.

Fragile

The realization that life is fragile and inherently dependent on kindness should lead to a profound awareness of our responsibility to be kind to ourselves and to others. It starts at home, what our sages called the local needy; it is essential to prioritize the needs of those closest to us before extending our efforts outward, beginning with immediate relationships, spouses, children, parents, siblings, extended family, and so on.

Our families serve as one of the primary arenas for practicing and refining our capacity for kindness. These intimate relationships, given to us, present unique challenges and opportunities for growth, teaching us the nuances of empathy, sacrifice, and unconditional love.

Sustainer – everything

The idea that God is the Provider or Sustainer captures the essence of God’s all-encompassing kindness – KOL KOL. It extends far beyond a simple material sense and captures the concept that the Creator sees to all our needs, both physical and spiritual; everything within everything, layers deep.

There is so much life and detail in Creation, far in excess of the basic functionality of life in either a physical or spiritual sense; the canvas is too big, with goodness, beauty, richness, and diversity of the world from the vast array of foods to the sensory experiences of aesthetics, taste, and smell. All point towards a Creator who delights in providing a tapestry of experiences that enrich life beyond the basic needs for survival.

The act of creation originates in a desire to give comprehensively. This desire is not limited to fulfilling basic needs but extends to offering a fullness of existence that allows for the appreciation of beauty, the experience of pleasure, and the possibility of personal and relational depth. The creation is not a utilitarian exercise but an expression of Divine generosity, seeking to share the boundless goodness inherent in the Divine essence.

It’s tailor-made: our families, health, finances, relationships, and what have you. Everything within everything is made just for us.

There is a phrase in Grace After Meals that is deeply intertwined with the blessings given to the Patriarchs and encapsulates profound themes of gratitude, Divine provision, and the acknowledgment of a holistic perfection in life – BAKOL MIKOL KOL. It reflects a comprehensive appreciation for the blessings received, attributing them to the Divine generosity that sustains all aspects of existence.

Their lives weren’t perfect; nothing is, and no one is. But there is an element of perfection in everything; our ancestors felt like they had everything, even with the trials they faced. The challenge is in being able to see it.

The body and soul are fundamentally different; plenty of things are far from perfect. Life is nowhere near as enjoyable as it could be; it’s nowhere near as meaningful as it could be. But in the union of body and soul, that’s as perfect as it gets; they are not separate entities but components of a unified whole. What once appeared as imperfections can be understood as parts of a perfect fit for the individual’s journey.

If you try on a pair of shoes without socks, they might fit great, but when you wear them with socks, they’re not going to fit. Life’s difficulties, seen through the lens of the body-soul union, can enable us to see these challenges as perfect opportunities for growth, precisely tailored to the unique combination of our physical and spiritual selves.

Broadening the lens

There is room in this prayer for a broader and more compassionate view of the range of existential and spiritual afflictions that individuals experience in the course of life. It includes those experiencing chronic illness, depression, and grief. Our sages also consider that certain categories of people have what might be considered a living death: people in poverty, the blind, the childless, and individuals with a skin condition called tzaraas.

When a person is officially diagnosed with tzaraas, the Torah imposes a mandatory seven-day quarantine; the person must leave town and live in solitary isolation. Anyone who lived through COVID has primary experience of isolation and quarantine. However difficult and unpleasant, it has the valuable function of attempting to stop contagion and transmission, saving lives in the aggregate.

Our sages tell of Choni HaMagel, who fell asleep for seventy years and woke to a world that no longer recognized him. He prayed for death in the absence of a friend. People need connection and belonging; ostracism from the community is one of the very worst tools in our sages’ arsenal. People aren’t meant to be alone; we need healthy relationships and community for a fulfilling life.

Prayers for revival include all these categories, including the couples desperate for a child, the poor who do not know how they will get by tomorrow, and it includes lonely people who lack social skills and annoy you.

When Yakov was on the run from Esau with nothing at all, he prayed for God to save him and provide him with clothing; he prayed for dignity, and a means to engage with the world confidently, and that was Rabbi Meir’s answer to Cleopatra. We live in a world of clothes, where our souls have an avatar in our body, and where socially awkward people need some help, and the divine promise of resurrection is seen as providing whatever is necessary for individuals to fully participate in and contribute to the life of the community.

R’ Moshe Cordovero teaches that, in fact, the soul prays for the body, suggesting a symbiotic connection where the soul, even in a state of separation from the physical form, hopes for and wishes the best for its future counterpart, illustrating the interdependence of body and soul, rather than viewing them as independent or antagonistic elements.

The Vilna Gaon was on his deathbed, and he began to cry. His students asked why he crying; he had lived well and had nothing to fear. The Gaon of Vilna weakly gathered his Tzitzis and gently kissed them. He explained that in this world, he could purchase Tzitzis for a few pennies and do the mitzvah every moment he wore them. But in death, he would not be able to serve his Creator with all the time and money in the world!

At all times and places, people have complained about young people wasting time; but it’s a universal truth applicable to all. Time is irreplaceable, as R’ Ahron of Karlin points out, each moment of existence is incomparably unique, never existing before in the history of Creation, and never to be repeated before becoming irretrievably lost forever.

Seize every moment, grab every second. Recognize the great kindnesses and aspects of perfection in your life that exist alongside and sometimes perhaps even within challenges, difficulties, and problems.

(!ed shlomo how does this link?
The concept of modesty in Judaism encompasses much more than the superficial aspects of dress and appearance; it is a profound expression of dignity, self-respect, and an understanding of one’s inherent value. Judaism does not advocate for self-negation, it encourages a harmonious balance where one can express beauty and elegance in ways that align with refined values, presenting oneself respectfully and thoughtfully.

There is no mitzvah or stringency in being unattractive; modesty is not antithetical to beauty or aesthetics and is fully compatible. It’s not about prohibitions or restrictions but an approach to life that elevates the ordinary. It is about cultivating elevated normalcy where everyday living without necessitating a departure from normal social interactions and personal expression in dress, speech, and behavior reflects a deep-seated respect for the sanctity of the individual and the relationships between people.

The principle of balance is essential for life and all things. An imbalance, whether excess or deficiency, can lead to a physical, spiritual, or moral tipping point, undermining integrity and stability.

Wrap up

BIG IDEA MAYBE
The Ramchal teaches that the World to Come is a reality similar to our current world but with no evil inclination, presenting a vision of perfected physicality, where every aspect of the world serves as a conduit for spirituality. The absence of evil fundamentally transforms the nature of existence. Without the impulse towards evil, the world no longer harbors malice, suffering, or moral failings. This change doesn’t merely imply a world devoid of negative experiences but signifies a reality where the physical and the spiritual are harmoniously integrated, allowing for a perfected form of physical existence that fully reflects and embodies spiritual values.

The eradication of sickness, aging, and exhaustion in the World to Come underscores the notion of a perfected physicality. In this state, the limitations and vulnerabilities that characterize our current existence are removed, not for the sake of mere physical perfection but to enable the fullest expression of the soul’s potential. The soul’s influence over the body is complete, leading to a newly spiritualized form of existence where the material world no longer constrains spiritual growth but enhances and facilitates it.

The age of Mashiach will close with the eventual return of souls to the Garden of Eden, representing the culmination of the redemptive process and the conclusion of the creation cycle, a return to the original state of harmony between humanity and the Divine, yet at a higher level of spiritual and moral development. It is a return not to the naiveté of the first humans but to a state of enlightened unity with God, achieved through the history of struggle, choice, and growth, a second naivete.

God could have created happy robots; God couldn’t create happy, free-willed humans. Our capacity for choice, including the potential to make bad choices, is essential to the concept of moral and spiritual growth. Paradoxically, bad choices or no choices are the system working as intended; it is through the exercise of choice, with all its risks and possibilities for error, that we engage in the process of refinement and elevation, the process that allows for genuine growth, transformation, and the eventual realization of a perfected world.

סוֹמֵךְ נוֹפְלִים וְרוֹפֵא חוֹלִים וּמַתִּיר אֲסוּרִים – Supporter of the fallen, and Healer of the sick, and Releaser of the trapped

Supporter of the fallen, Healer of the sick, and Releaser of the trapped; these capture the different stages and aspects of divine benevolence and intervention in the types of struggles we face in life. These titles emphasize Divine responsiveness to human vulnerability and also offer a framework for understanding the nature of our trials and the avenues through which assistance and redemption are provided.

To fall or to have fallen symbolizes moments of vulnerability, whether due to external circumstances or internal struggles. Falling represents the process of losing or having lost balance in life—be it emotional, spiritual, or moral equilibrium, a moment where we are about to or have already given up. This can manifest in moments of doubt, temptation, or when facing obstacles that seem to push us beyond our limits. During these precarious times, we can turn to the Creator for strength and stability to regain balance and stand firm in the face of adversity. It’s an acknowledgment that before the full impact of a fall, there is divine support ready to catch and uphold us – סוֹמֵךְ נוֹפְלִים.

Illness and sickness, whether physical, emotional, or spiritual, represent conditions that have manifested after a fall—after an imbalance has taken its toll on our well-being and is defined by reality. We affirm the restorative power that mends what has been broken and heals what has been afflicted that encompasses not only the physical healing of diseases but also the mending of a spirit wearied by trials and the soothing of a heart wounded by life’s hardships – וְרוֹפֵא חוֹלִים

Unlike healing or releasing, which denote decisive actions directed towards changing a condition, support suggests providing assistance or backing that allows individuals to find their own feet; supporting is very different from lifting or picking up.

The Amida isn’t about other people; it’s about all people, including all parts of ourselves. Everyone has experienced falling, illness, and feeling tied up; these are universal aspects of human struggle.

Sanctify yourself in what is permitted

Beyond the Torah’s explicit laws, one of our sages’ great ethical teachings emphasizes the importance of elevating our moral and spiritual conduct beyond mere adherence to the letter of the law; as the Ramban memorably notes, you can be a Torah-sanctioned glutton!

There is no shortage of technically permitted exploits, but don’t lose sight of the bigger picture. Living within the bounds of what is technically permitted yet striving for a higher moral standard speaks to the heart of ethical and spiritual growth. It acknowledges that while certain actions may not be forbidden, indulging in them without restraint or sensitivity can lead to a degradation of one’s character and spiritual state.

Spending all your money on sports cars is not forbidden anywhere, but it may reflect and reinforce values that conflict with the ideals of modesty, stewardship, and concern for the well-being of others.

There is more to Judaism than avoiding prohibition. There is a flavor, tone, and style to Jewish law and tradition, one that encourages a lifestyle and mindset that honor the Divine and the inherent dignity of life with restraint, moderation, and sensitivity even in lawful pursuits; most respectable people in our communities tend to look and act a certain way for a reason.

An attitude that seeks to justify actions based solely on their technical permissibility can lead to a lowering of moral and spiritual boundaries and standards. It leads to compromising in ways that diminish and restrict one’s aspirations to the bare minimum or less rather than striving for excellence; it represents a form of falling סוֹמֵךְ נוֹפְלִים.

Having that kind of attitude, or any bad attitude or poor outlook, is a form of sickness, a bodily malfunction. Cynicism, insensitivity, and a predisposition to see the worst in people and situations are forms of spiritual and ethical malaise, expecting relationships to fail and sabotaging them so they do is a sickness. When your mind or body isn’t right, it won’t work the way it’s supposed to, obstructing the ability to form healthy relationships, appreciate goodness, and contribute positively to the world – רוֹפֵא חוֹלִים.

The state of being bound reflects a condition where one’s freedom and ability to act are severely restricted, literally or metaphorically locked up, their spiritual or emotional capacity for growth, action, and prayer can feel entirely constrained. This state represents a deep level of helplessness and limitation, where divine intervention seems the only avenue for liberation.

Falling captures the moments of vulnerability and imbalance before, where one is in danger of succumbing to spiritual, moral, or physical decline but has not yet reached a point of complete failure or collapse. It is a critical juncture where the potential for recovery and steadying oneself still exists, perhaps with divine support, yet without necessitating total divine rescue.

God can pick us up, God can support us, reflecting different levels of divine intervention and human agency. God can fully rectify our fallen state, essentially doing the work for us, but we’d rather have some more subtle support earlier on, the necessary encouragement or push that helps us regain our balance and stand tall. This type of support honors human autonomy and the value of overcoming challenges through personal effort.

(melech ozer umoshia umagen – we dont want god to do the work given to us)
We have a spiritual and ethical preference for engaging with life’s challenges using our capacities, with God’s help seen as a form of empowerment rather than a substitute for personal action. It reflects a commitment to growth, resilience, and the development of spiritual and moral strength, recognizing that the journey, with its trials and victories, is integral to our development.

Better to ask for a helping hand, something to hold on to, a stick for support, a push for momentum; if you fall down, God will have to do it all for you,

BIG IDEA

The Proverb teaches that the righteous stumble multiple times and rise, and wicked people stumble just once and are done for. This captures how falling, both literally and metaphorically, is an integral part of the human experience, particularly on the path to righteousness and spiritual maturity. This concept underscores the intrinsic value in the act of rising after a fall, highlighting the importance of growth and resilience to a life of righteousness.

Gravity is a thing; everybody falls down. That’s not an obstacle to growth but the source of it. As R’ Hutner teaches, only fools believe that the righteous rise is in spite of the fall; the truth is that the rise is because of the fall.

If someone lifted them up every time they fell, they’d learn and gain nothing, never growing into anything more, never becoming righteous at all! Support is what we need, the best of God’s might, the best of God’s kindness.

When a father is teaching his kid to ride a bicycle, there comes a moment when he lets go of the bike, and the kid falls; that’s part of it. But a great dad watches the child and leaps into action as they start to fall, catching and steadying the bike before anything else happens.

The experience of feeling down, inadequate, incompetent, unimportant, unhappy, or not enough is a universal human condition that can deeply affect one’s sense of self-worth and purpose. These feelings often stem from a perceived lack of clarity or certainty in one’s abilities, direction, or the meaningfulness of one’s endeavors.

If you’re an Egyptologist, you might think it’s really important for you to know if Tutankhamen was before Ramses; everyone needs clarity and competence in their professional and personal lives, and lack of clarity makes people feel depressed because it makes them feel incapable of doing what they’re supposed to be doing.

A lack of clarity, whether in understanding one’s role, goals, or the path to achieving them, can lead to feelings of being overwhelmed and inadequate. This confusion can be paralyzing, making individuals feel incapable of fulfilling their responsibilities or achieving their aspirations. It’s not merely the absence of information that distresses the spirit but the implications of that absence for one’s ability to function effectively and find fulfillment in one’s actions.

In those moments of self-doubt, uncertainty, and fear of inadequacy, it feels like falling, like you need something to lean on just so you can stand – סוֹמֵךְ נוֹפְלִים.

It’s good to admit that we are the kind of people who fall; it’s a design feature, not a personal failing. A corresponding feature of Creation is that there is a power that gives us confidence and proficiency, and to rediscover it in times it feels like it’s missing: the support we need amidst life’s uncertainties and our own limitations – סוֹמֵךְ נוֹפְלִים.

Sometimes, people are incapacitated, but sometimes, they are self-imposed limitations we often place on ourselves. Our abilities are vast, yet frequently undermined by our doubts and fears; highlighting the importance of self-awareness and the need for a supportive framework that enables us to realize our potential. we knock ourselves down; and anything unsteady needs support – סוֹמֵךְ נוֹפְלִים.

Wallowing in the unsteadiness of doubt and uncertainty soon becomes sickness; which gradually but directly leads to a sense of feeling stuck. The progression from an initial failure to address our needs or challenges to a state of feeling bound highlights a critical dynamic in human psychology and spiritual well-being; neglecting our emotional, mental, or spiritual health can lead to more profound issues. This cascades into other things in life, with a severe risk of contagion. When you’re frustrated or annoyed about something in your life, and then you snap at someone you care about, that negative feeling has spread from one area to another, from one person to another.

The Sukkos prayers ask for the restoration of the fallen line of David; falling isn’t just something that happens physically to individuals; it happens spiritually to the world as well. A world of spiritual zombies, plagued by disconnection and disorientation, meaninglessness, and nihilism, is a world that is incapacitated and incapable, a world that is falling, sick, and bound. We pray for a restoration and renewal that touches every aspect of existence on personal, spiritual, and global levels and expresses a profound hope for healing and renewal – סוֹמֵךְ נוֹפְלִים וְרוֹפֵא חוֹלִים וּמַתִּיר אֲסוּרִים

In the context of addiction, substance use disorders statistics suggest that more and more people are turning to substances to fill a void. The transformation of desire, the natural human emotion to want something, into addiction, where the object of desire exerts control, highlights a critical shift from autonomy to compulsion; a sickness is disrupting the intended harmony and function of human beings – רוֹפֵא חוֹלִים.

Moreover, unlike diseases that can be treated with conventional medicines, mental illness or addiction are treated under a more holistic framework; the professional consensus suggests that recovery involves the whole person, engaging with the spiritual, emotional, and psychological dimensions – רופא כל בשר ומפליא לעשות.

Not all people

Sometimes, there isn’t a happy ending. Sometimes, there isn’t the complete and speedy recovery that everyone hopes and prays for. It’s brutal, and there is nothing to say in those moments, but it happens sometimes.

But even in those times, there are fleeting moments to ask for and receive healing, even if a happy ending is off the table. Whether it’s stealing some last precious quality time with loved ones, the comfort found in final moments of pure connection and love, and the relief from pain and suffering, however temporary, there are moments of healing there, however far that entire scenario is from what anyone would ever dream of choosing.

In the moments when we find ourselves on the edge, wobbling between stability and the void of uncertainty or despair, the presence of people who stand by us becomes not just a comfort but a necessity. Be it a friend, sibling, child, parent, partner, or teacher; our prayers have been answered in the form of support that keeps us from falling too far, a testament to the incredible power of human connection that provides healing in our sickness and release us when we feel stuck.

There are people who are stuck in jail. The justice system is necessary but human, and so, like all things, it is not perfect and makes mistakes. There are people in jail who should not be there or are there for far longer than they deserve. There are soldiers who don’t come home; depending on when you’re reading this, there are hostages we need to bring home מַתִּיר אֲסוּרִים.

If that’s a little remote, everyone can feel trapped by circumstances, past mistakes, or societal expectations, and they deserve empathy and understanding. There are times people lose their money, that’s just something that happens. But in the aftermath, there are people who find themselves unable to make peace with the present reality; they are trapped by the remnants of their pasts. We can become prisoners of our own making, allowing the mistakes everyone makes to define us forever, a life sentence in a personal prison of our own creation from which escape seems impossible – מַתִּיר אֲסוּרִים.

Whatever element is trapped and incapable of seeing itself outside of artificial confines can be free from self-imposed limits based on societal expectations, personal insecurities, or the inability to forgive oneself.

The key is in your pocket – מַתִּיר אֲסוּרִים.

וּמְקַיֵּם אֱמוּנָתוֹ לִישֵׁנֵי עָפָר – Fulfiller of His faithfulness to those who sleep in the dust

In a certain sense, this mirrors the morning blessing upon waking that thanks God for faithfully returning our souls from sleep; our sages teach that sleep is a small taste of death, in which case resurrection would be like waking up.

This phrase is a restatement in variant form of what was plainly said moments ago, that God is the resurrector of the dead – מְחַיֶּה מֵתִים אַתָּה רַב לְהוֹשִׁיעַ.

It introduces an element of allegory: which sleepers in the dust?

The prophet Daniel predicts the resurrection of the dead with a similar comment: Many of those that sleep in the dust of the earth will awake – וְרַבִּים מִיְּשֵׁנֵי אַדְמַת־עָפָר יָקִיצוּ. Like many things Daniel wrote, this is difficult to understand and reinforces the question: Many will wake up, but not all, so who, then?

When our sages could not resolve difficult questions, the section concludes that the question stands – תיקו. It has been suggested that this is an acronym and that Eliyahu the Tishbi will answer all questions and inquiries – תשבי יתרץ קושיות ובעיות. Although there is a principle that one person is insufficient to establish the truth of a matter, Eliyahu isn’t one person, he is multiple reincarnations, including Pinchas.
(!ed Shlomo – al pi shnayim eidim yakum davar is din of eidus not psak, nevua is something else, also maybe this whole section is redundant)

Our sages teach that the bodies of completely righteous people are incorruptible after death; that they avoid the normal process of decomposition whole or in part. And yet, our sages also teach that the moment before the resurrection, their bodies will turn to dust, fulfilling God’s promise to the first man that from dust he came and to dust he would return – וּמְקַיֵּם אֱמוּנָתוֹ לִישֵׁנֵי עָפָר.

god restores dead
righteous in death are still called alive
Torah definition of life is accomplishment
secular definition sees sleep as an accomplishment – rest is functional
eg hibernation is not death
(!ed Shlomo – i dont understand this)

When you contemplate your self-identity, what you are made of, the source of your existence, the essence of what makes us truly ourselves, there is no room for pride or self-righteousness; what can we take credit for? Our body and intellect are gifts; our outcomes are influenced by forces far beyond us.

The philosopher René Descartes showed that consciousness is self-generative; I think, therefore I am. Your ability to think is what lets you know you exist and perhaps what makes you actually exist and have an independent existence. What truly defines an individual, then, is the exercise of free will; the capacity to make choices is where the essence of a person is most authentically expressed. Unlike our predispositions or instincts, which are inherited or conditioned, the choices we make reflect our moral and spiritual autonomy. Someone operating on instinct is barely alive, but a righteous person’s choices make a lasting impact, and people choose differently as a result even after they’re long gone; their actions live on, and as our sages teach, even in death, they are considered living, or perhaps, sleeping – ישֵׁנֵי עָפָר.

The blessing states that God is trustworthy to fulfill a promise; when we say someone is trustworthy, it means you can believe them in the abstract and count on them in the realm of action. When people die, their bodies reduce to nothing; at Majdanek concentration camp, there is an eerie monument with a huge mound of dust and ashes gathered from heaps found on the premises. It is impossible to imagine quite how, but we trust and believe that from the tiniest particles or less, God will restore them.

In another interpretation, it’s not really about us at all but our ancestors. Our sages suggest that the sleepers in the dust refer to Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yakov; God made many promises to them, and God will uphold those commitments to them – ישֵׁנֵי עָפָר.

In another teaching, Avraham self-described as the dust of the earth, and our sages note that the Jewish People are alternately compared to the dust of the earth and the stars in the sky, capturing a profound duality within Jewish identity and destiny. In this metaphor, the Jewish experience is characterized by low moments of humility and suffering and high times of shining bright in soaring heights with divine closeness. In this reading, then, God can be trusted to fulfill commitments to those who are humble, the ancestors known for their humility, and all those who are downtrodden – ישֵׁנֵי עָפָר.

God keeps His word

The concept that God can be counted on to faithfully fulfill His promises, reviving those who sleep in the dust, either literally, in death, or metaphorically, in despair, appears in similar blessings. As we pray every morning Baruch omer v’oseh, baruch gozer umekayem CITE. As we sing on Seder night, God even protects His word, ensuring the realization of His word when we don’t deserve it – בָּרוּךְ שׁוֹמֵר הַבְטָחָתוֹ. These reassurances are verbs, and they are causative; God revives and picks up those who are down, who feel down, and who put themselves down.

Our sages teach that arrogance, an inflated sense of self-importance and a disregard for others, is depicted as repulsive to the divine presence. In stark contrast, humility, marked by a genuine recognition of one’s limitations and a respectful acknowledgment of others’ value, is shown as creating a welcoming space for the Divine.

Humility is not merely a lack of pride but an accurate self-perception that does not place oneself at the center; instead, one recognizes and honors the central place of the Divine in the world. Moshe was the most humble of all men and merited unparalleled proximity to God as a direct result.

Humble people recognize their origin and destiny within the grand scheme of creation; those who lower themselves for the sake of Heaven are elevated by God, who stands them up and grants them a distinguished place in the world

Elemental
(!ed Shlomo – this whole section is super arcane)

In another reading, the blessing is not about those who sleep in the dust but those who cause the dust to sleep. In classical philosophy and certain aspects of Jewish thought, everything is a combination of earth, water, air, and fire. Water is understood to embody sexual desire and libidinal energy, the water of life.
yesheini – yesheinim
those that cause their dust to sleep
chaim vittal
Earth, fire, water, wind
four elements
all characteristics come from combinations
water is sexual desire – the water of life
water is also Torah – passion for torah
imbalances in character result from imbalance in elements, shore up other elements
one quality of earth is laziness, inaction, standstill, inanimate
the others are in motion
primordial snake fancies chava
convinces her to eat the apple
derived from water
should have invoked Earth and done nothing
punished with earth, tastes nothing
misplaced desire
punished by removing of desire
if a person takes their earth and puts it to bed
they are proactive
god pays back those who push themselves
god rewards them mida kneged mida
reanimates the earth
mirror

מִי כָמוֹךָ בַּעַל גְּבוּרוֹת וּמִי דּוֹמֶה לָּךְ – who is like you, in mighty deeds and who compares

In the realm of fiction, Superman is the archetypal superhero with superhuman strength, speed, stamina, agility, reflexes, longevity, senses, and durability, with heat vision, wind and frost breath, solar energy absorption, X-ray vision, and flight abilities. Even within fiction, these abilities are almost peerless to the extent that Superman as a character has been considered overpowered by fans at times; the usual roster of villains doesn’t cut it. Who compares to Superman?

Imagine Superman was real and kept the world safe; the statue would never begin to reflect Superman’s power in any way whatsoever. Any attempt to be like Superman in any way beyond a symbol will fail. What compares to Superman?

Some of our greats perform incredible and mighty deeds; Moshe splits the Red Sea, and Elisha resurrects the dead Shunamite boy whose birth he predicted. But they were borrowers of might, not masters of it; there is only one Master of might, and all power ultimately originates with God – בַּעַל גְּבוּרוֹת

Despite their elevated spiritual status and their ability to perform miraculous deeds, the prophets do not possess inherent power; it is not their might at all. Instead, they operate through the might granted to them by God, serving His purposes as vessels through which God’s power is manifested in the world.

There is one Master of might, reinforcing the principle at the heart of Jewish faith that there is One God, the singular source of all power, wisdom, and creation, demystifying all human accomplishment, even including the wonders performed by prophets, attributing all to divine providence; even the greatest acts of strength, intelligence, or talent are not pure products of human endeavor but reflections of the divine shared with individuals for a higher purpose.

When people are blessed with riches, smarts, power, talent, or some combination, they are not masters; they are borrowers. Our ownership of these personal attributes and accomplishments is transient; these are ultimately bestowed by a higher power and should be utilized with humility and responsibility. The pursuit and possession of such gifts are full of potential pitfalls and are regularly people’s undoing, especially when people fail to acknowledge the inherent limitations of human effort. When you are blessed with any of these, don’t claim ownership; acknowledge the divine origin of your gifts and utilize them in service of others and the betterment of humanity.

The sheer scale of the universe and its components, from the vastness of galaxies and the intricate systems of solar systems to the dynamic beauty of individual planets, fosters a profound sense of awe that transcends human understanding. Such cosmic magnificence invites us to admire the power in the universe, underscoring the omnipotent presence that not only orchestrates the grandeur of the cosmos but also maintains intimate governance over the laws that dictate its order.

From the macroscopic movements of galaxies to the microscopic interactions within subatomic structures, the power to command the cosmos with precision and care is awe-inspiring, reminding us of the delicate balance and immense complexity that governs our existence.

It’s impossible to understand what the Creator is, and with what we can understand, it’s impossible to adequately describe how thankful we ought to be. But, standing at the precipice, we have peered into the endless void, the boundless vastness, the sheer magnitude of everything. We may not understand it as it is, but we know that we have confronted the Infinite and hopefully come away having grasped the faintest flicker of the incomprehensible power of God. With deep reverence and humility, we have recognized the limitless scope of divine might and acknowledged that we stand before a force that orchestrates the universe’s complexities with precision and grace – בַּעַל גְּבוּרוֹת.

After internalizing the magnitude of this power and the extent of the forces at God’s disposal that influence our lives, we can begin to frame our requests in prayer. The realization of God’s omnipotence transforms the nature of our petitions, grounding them in profound trust and confidence. To imagine and believe in God’s boundless capability is to understand that no request is too small, no concern too trivial, and no plea beyond the realm of possibility. This belief empowers the faithful to approach God with their needs, hopes, and desires, secure in the knowledge that the Master of all Powers listens and has the capacity to respond. The act of prayer becomes not just a petition but a communion with the infinite, a dialogue rooted in awe, respect, and unshakeable faith in the divine will and wisdom – בַּעַל גְּבוּרוֹת.

A common conception people have is that prayer is like going to the local and buying a lottery scratch card; if someone is sick, say a prayer and put it out there because it might work. From this perspective, prayer is a long shot with bad odds, a passive, almost resigned approach without genuine conviction in the outcome.

But in actuality, no request is too big or small. If you ask your mother to cook a five-course feast on a regular Tuesday, that is an outrageous and unreasonable request. But if you’re at the Seder table and ask her to pass a dish, no one thinks that’s an imposition. It’s so easy, it’s expected, why wouldn’t they?

The blessing of Might and Strength illustrates that prayer is not a lottery ticket; it is not a last-ditch effort to sway an uncertain fate but an active engagement with a personal God who is deeply interested in the intricacies of each individual’s life. Prayer, in this light, is not a gamble but a dialogue built on trust and relationship. When no concern is too trivial for God’s attention, it transforms the act of prayer into an act of profound faith and openness; the same power that governs the vast mechanics of the universe is attentive to the personal pleas of every heart. It elevates prayer from a mere shot in the dark to a meaningful exchange with the divine, where every word is heard, and every request is considered with infinite compassion and wisdom.

Our prayers do not hinge on the odds at all, and we can shift the focus from the size or nature of our requests. God’s capacity to intervene, assist, or transform situations is limitless. Our requests, no matter how small or significant they may seem in human eyes, are tiny compared to the infinite scope of God’s power. God might have reasons to act or not act, unrelated to the size of the request, but we can pray with confidence and sincerity and liberate our prayers from our logic or limitations.

God is omnipotent. God can resurrect the dead and reverse the finality of death, create something out of nothing, and create life where there was none. Is it so hard to ask for healing? For some money? For some good luck and happiness?

When Queen Esther approached King Achashverosh, who loved her and was taken by her charm and charisma, she still spoke with grace and respect: “If possible, if it pleases you, if it’s acceptable and favorable, grant my wish and accept my request, and come to my tea party.” A similar stance in prayer is essential; it is not a matter of deserving what we ask for, but simply recognizing and believing in God’s compassionate nature, that God cares deeply for His creation, that God listens, cares, and is actively involved in the minutiae of our lives.

It is essential to recognize that for God, wish fulfillment is trivial, as easy as it gets; to whatever extent you think it’s hard or difficult, it reflects a lack of understanding of the praise and appreciation for the Creator’s unmatched ability to affect change. The difficulty we perceive in our requests often reflects our limitations rather than God’s, highlighting the importance of faith in recognizing God’s sovereignty and generosity.

מֶלֶךְ מֵמִית וּמְחַיֶּה וּמַצְמִיחַ יְשׁוּעָה – King Who causes death and restores life, and causes deliverance to sprout forth

Although we live in a mostly post-monarchy world, human monarchs are symbols of power, and particularly in a historical context, they actually wield immense power. As the sovereign, their power was perceived as absolute within their territories; they could dictate laws, levy taxes, wage wars, and make decisions that significantly impacted the lives of their subjects.

God as a king is a metaphor; God isn’t human, and humans aren’t God. A human king can execute and save people but can’t create life or revive the dead.

But God is the king in these of being sovereign over domains, the supreme power – מֶלֶךְ מֵמִית וּמְחַיֶּה

People get sick; people die; that’s not particularly remarkable; it happens every day. Illness leading to death is a natural progression that aligns with our limited human perception of cause and effect. In such cases, death may not surprise us or challenge our understanding of the world. But when otherwise healthy people drop dead from one moment to the next, it presents a stark contrast to our expectations, highlighting the unpredictable and sovereign nature of divine will, and we must acknowledge that life and death are ultimately under God’s command – מֶלֶךְ מֵמִית וּמְחַיֶּה

If you ever visit a neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) at the hospital, the fragility of life is palpable with newborns fighting for survival. The dedicated medical professionals work tirelessly, employing their knowledge and skills to preserve and enhance life, but a baby that can fit in the palm of your hand is a powerful reminder that ultimately it is God who reigns supreme over life and death, health and illness, and decides the course of each life – מֶלֶךְ מֵמִית וּמְחַיֶּה.

Chana’s grandmother was diagnosed with cancer when Chana was a little girl, but she always said she wanted to live to see Chana’s wedding. She lived with cancer for eighteen years and died a few months after Chana and I got married.

Prayer and faith are not substitutes for doctors and medicine, but there are many stories of people who live far longer than their medical prognoses predict. There is a reality where God decides a person will live against the odds, against a stacked deck, whatever the situation seems like, and regardless of what the doctors say; and someone with months to live somehow steals years and years powered by the will to live, supported by prayer and hope, and of course, the divine will that transcends the limitations of human understanding and medical statistics.

Because God isn’t a doctor; God is the king Who causes death and restores life – מֶלֶךְ מֵמִית וּמְחַיֶּה.

As the Chozeh of Lublin quipped, the Torah gives doctors permission to heal; it doesn’t give permission to give up.

Death before life

In this phrasing, death precedes life, suggesting a more interesting relationship than linear birth and death; death serves the purposes of life – מֵמִית וּמְחַיֶּה.

At Creation, every day and its aspects are labeled as good, with one exception, death, which is very good. Death teaches us the value of life and is the source of the intrinsic relationship between life’s finite nature and our capacity to find meaning and connection within it. Our mortality compels us to contemplate their existence, priorities, and the legacy we wish to leave behind to make a difference and make our lives matter. This urgency is born out of the awareness of life’s impermanence and encourages intentional living, cherishing each moment and fostering connections that transcend the material; and it’s what makes us reach out to the Divine – מֵמִית וּמְחַיֶּה.

If you plucked an indigenous person from China, transported them to the USA, and left them in the middle of Florida, the communication and language barrier would pose a formidable limitation on his ability to navigate the environment extended to the spiritual realm. Just as language and culture shape our ability to connect and communicate, the physical body and its limitations shape our capacity to fully realize our spiritual potential; our bodies are fully capable of spirituality but in a different language to our souls.

In an earlier teaching, our sages highlighted Moshe’s comment defining life as the soul’s connection to God—Atem Hadveikim B’Hashem Elokeichem Chaim Kulchem Hayom (Devarim 4:4). To be fully alive within that definition, life as an attachment to God would counterintuitively mean that life begins at death – מֵמִית וּמְחַיֶּה.

Imagine twins gestating during pregnancy, and everything is going fine until one day, one of them suddenly disappears, leaving the remaining twin upset due to the loss. Where’s my twin?!

Everyone outside understands that the baby was born, and he’s next – מֵמִית וּמְחַיֶּה.

The world we inhabit is like a womb or nest; it is a place of growth, development, and preparation, where the soul is nurtured and readied for what comes next. Today, we understand better than ever the impact of a poor environment or health issues on a pregnancy; spiritual condition and moral growth are equally influenced by the quality of our environments – מֵמִית וּמְחַיֶּה.

Death enables life and unlocks eternity; the experiences, growth, and development we undergo in the temporal realm imbue eternity with significance.

Our sages teach that when a child is in the womb, an angel teaches the soul the entire Torah, which is subsequently forgotten at birth. This act symbolizes the transition from a state of passive receptivity to active acquisition and personal achievement, the reason life exists at all. Forgetting underscores the fundamental principle that our spiritual and moral achievements, all our knowledge and learning, are valuable when they are the result of personal effort and struggle.

The sequence of death before life in this blessing reflects the reality that life, death, and salvation do not conform to our expectations. It illustrates both the complexity of divine intervention and the nuanced nature of what constitutes salvation.

 מֶלֶךְ מֵמִית וּמְחַיֶּה וּמַצְמִיחַ יְשׁוּעָה

The Torah’s early narratives about the origins of humanity tell us of Chanoch, one of the very first saints, so perfectly righteous that the Torah attests that he walked with God and then he vanished. Our sages teach that he had a perfect record but was vulnerable to sin, so he was taken to Heaven before his time; he died, and it saved him from blotting his spiritual record.

In a later story, Yitzchak and Rivka had been married for some time, and after years of grappling with the challenge of infertility, they begged, cried, and prayed, and the Creator relented, and they became pregnant with twins. The Torah narrates this story with intensely emotive language connoting earnest desperation and similar language to indicate God’s almost reluctant acquiescence. Rashi notes this friction and explains that it simply wasn’t time for them to have children yet because now Avraham would die five years sooner than he might have, as a kindness to spare him from watching his grandson Esau become a murderer. The sooner Esau was to be born, the sooner Avraham would die. They wanted the right thing at the wrong time.

Sometimes, salvation means not living, and sometimes, salvation kills and has a cascade of second-order effects. Flourishing and saving for one can mean pain and suffering for another; the Divine plan defies simplistic interpretations and does not always align with human expectations.

מַצְמִיחַ יְשׁוּעָה – causes salvation to flourish

Extending our time in this world or ending it, with what we experience as a good outcome or perhaps not, we believe that it’s leading somewhere, always aimed to an ultimate good – מַצְמִיחַ יְשׁוּעָה.

The average life expectancy is around seventy years, perhaps a little more. What’s what compared to a thousand, a million, a billion, or infinity? Compared to the vast stretches of eternity, the fleeting nature of our existence is short. And yet, our little flicker of existence is pivotal, the site in which our eternal destiny is shaped and molded. Our actions, choices, and spiritual growth during this short span have lasting implications, influencing the quality and nature of our existence in the eternal realm.

The verb utilized here means growing in the agricultural sense, like planting a seed. Organic growth is slow and cyclical; plants lose their leaves in the winter and go dormant, experiencing a form of death, but before long, spring will come, and they will blossom once again.

Death, destruction, and decay are necessary parts of life and are prerequisites to a life that matters, as well as the resurrection of the dead; the Angel of Death is not a villain but a valued team member with good standing in Heaven. The experience of death dissolves the limitations imposed by physical existence and allows for spiritual rebirth.

As Rabbeinu Tam teaches, every setback plants the seeds of a comeback; every descent coils the spring of a descent – yerida ltzorech aliya. In the moments of darkness and isolation, of deepest difficulty, despair, and failure, wishing for death, feeling dead and buried, God is planting something –  וּמַצְמִיחַ יְשׁוּעָה.

Our challenges and low points are not final destinations but orchestrated opportunities for significant growth and transformation, preparatory stages for a higher state of being. The moments of darkness and isolation, when we are at our lowest when we are overwhelmed when the desire to give up is most compelling, can paradoxically become the fertile ground for profound personal development.

Every challenge is measured, and every person has the tools to endure and overcome it, even if it seems insurmountable. These tools appear in the form of loved ones, friends, mentors, educational materials, support networks, or internal qualities like independence, optimism, persistence, and resilience.

The effectiveness of our tools is significantly influenced by our perspective and how we utilize them. A positive outlook is generally beneficial but can lead to negative outcomes if applied without mindfulness; I’m so happy with my rickety old house, even though all my neighbors live in gorgeous mansions! Positivity, detached from a framework of gratitude and awareness of others’ circumstances, can morph into ingratitude.

The proverb says that when all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail; there is a common human tendency to approach diverse problems with a fixed mindset and a single, familiar solution. But what if you used the hammer as a paperweight or bookend? The value and utility of a tool are not fixed but can be expanded or transformed based on the context and the needs at hand; our internal tools must be guided by a balanced perspective of their effectiveness, applied with creativity, flexibility, and imagination.

There is a delicately balanced recipe for life and death in the world, just the right combination of both in our lives to craft the conditions necessary to stimulate spiritual growth. The interplay between life’s ending and beginning, its challenges and triumphs, is designed to cultivate an environment conducive to ultimate salvation – מֶלֶךְ מֵמִית וּמְחַיֶּה וּמַצְמִיחַ יְשׁוּעָה.

There are certain aspects of ourselves that we must allow to die so that we can live: parts of the ego, certain desires, and past mistakes to make way for a more genuine, spiritually aligned existence. The spiritual stagnation of unawakened existence that precedes a conscious life of meaning and purpose can be a kind of living death; the process of death and rebirth is often a prerequisite for true spiritual awakening and growth, death preceding birth.

Despite our efforts and aspirations, ultimate control and the power to save or change circumstances lie solely with the supreme power in the universe, the source of might that controls the forces in the universe. Only God can save us or make anything work; only God has power. All humans can do is what is given to us, our output.

You can try as hard as you can outcome is not tied to our output.
(big idea, talk about effective hishtadlus, base rates)

If you are a fisherman, you have a bunch of rods with lines in the water. If one bends, that’s great! You have a fish hooked; you need to put in some effort and work hard to reel it in. But the line might snap, and the fish might break free. Also, you need to reel the right rod!

Your job is to fish, to go where the fish are supposed to be and do what professional fishermen do. Will the fish come? Will you have supper, be profitable, hire a crew, build a fleet, and build a public company? That’s not up to you – מַצְמִיחַ יְשׁוּעָה.

You must make a genuine attempt and effort to exert yourself in pursuit of your goals. Your efforts must be effective and strategic. If you work a hundred hours a week going door to door trying to sell used disposable cutlery, you have worked very hard but very ineffectively, which undermines the hard work you have done.

If outcomes are supposed to happen, they come with a certain price tag of physical and spiritual inputs. If a person is fated to have a hard time with relationships, there is a universe where he might be the right person and have an on-off relationship for ten years before realizing she was the one all along, or he could date for ten years before meeting her, and the outcome is the same.

The requisite price in effort and sweat must be paid, and our attempts don’t have to be at the thing that ends up happening; success stories rarely come from the places people expect them to and are frequently marked by twists, turns, and serendipities that could not have been anticipated at the outset, highlighting the unpredictable nature of achieving goals.

Life is not linear, with inherent uncertainty and a complex interplay of factors that contribute to achieving goals; therefore, part of the effort includes flexibility, openness to new opportunities, and the ability to adapt to changing circumstances. While focused effort is essential, so too is the capacity to pivot and embrace unexpected pathways that may lead to success.

(meilich biderman yeshiva story)

BIG IDEA

What that means, then, is that there is no such thing as a waste of time. The way we typically view the world, when a person works on a big deal for years, if it closes, then it is worthwhile. If it doesn’t, everyone wasted time and money and should’ve spent that time and money doing anything else, or even nothing!

In the perspective of our prayer, every effort, every challenge, and even every apparent setback is a meaningful component of a larger divine plan. The effort invested in pursuing a goal, regardless of its immediate outcome, serves as the foundation upon which future successes are built. When something good happens that comes easy, it is paid for by failures and doors closed; the experiences of each failure contribute to the eventual achievement in ways that may not be obvious or quantifiable. God is constantly planting – מַצְמִיחַ יְשׁוּעָה.

In times of struggle, when the outcomes of our efforts are not what we hoped for, whether with family, health, finances, or unfulfilled prayers, God is planting something that will grow. Our sages teach that even the frustration you feel when you pull the wrong thing out of your pocket counts and has a redemptive quality; something is growing.

Humanity begins in a state of relative ease in the Garden of Eden, which shifts dramatically after the sin. After that, humans earn their way in the world with sweat and effort. All that is given to us is effort, and we must try. But we cannot control outcomes; God did not tell Adam he must accomplish, and so there is no such thing as wasted effort. We must push ourselves purposefully, intentionally, with thoughtful purpose and direction, but the outcome is God’s alone.

In a world that is fixated on productivity and results, that measures success by outcomes and achievements, this spiritual perspective is alien and offers a profound reorientation towards effort and intention. But it is God’s might and kindness at play; the sincerity and dedication of our efforts define us, not our outcomes. Every act of trying, the exertion of the effort itself, sows the seeds for redemption and salvation, liberating us from the burden of outcome-based validation and encouraging us to focus on the quality and intentionality of our actions. In this framework, the ultimate measure of lacking is not a failure to achieve a specific goal but a failure to try, and even that perceived lack is offset by Divine kindness, where a person doesn’t do enough, and God treats it as sufficient anyway.

If we could truly internalize this, there would be no place for disappointment and getting upset; we’d never give up and be endlessly persistent and resilient. We experience pain and difficulty; those are very real, but there is no death or failure that does not serve the purposes of life, growth, meaning, and purpose.

We still have to do things that make sense. God is the cause of success, not business, but you still have to learn how a business works so you can work in one. Education is not the cause of success, but you still need an education; it’s part of our baseline effort.

Bad things have their place

In a radical teaching, R’ Tzadok Hakohen teaches that punishment is a fulfillment of God’s will as well and that there are consequences for evil. When bad people suffer, it serves the ultimate good, and it’s even good for that person, too. In R’ Tzadok’s analogy, you can serve the king as the minister, butler, or firewood.

In every life, death is the worst thing that can happen, the final ending and ultimate loss. In a moment of grief and pain, It is important to have sensitivity, empathy, and timing in conveying spiritual truths, and it would be completely inappropriate to share, but this prayer affirms that death is also part of the divine cycle of existence, leading to renewal and continued life.

As the legendary psychologist and Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankel showed, people with a why to live for can bear almost any how; people become depressed when their pain is meaningless. Much of the anguish in suffering stems not only from the pain itself but from a sense of meaninglessness or existential despair that can accompany it.

וְנֶאֱמָן אַתָּה

We fundamentally trust in God’s power and benevolence, particularly in His ability to bring life from death, both literally and metaphorically. We see revival in our world and in our lives every day; we regularly experience the cycles of revival and renewal in the natural world, historical and personal experiences of overcoming, and the transformations that emerge from periods of hardship וְנֶאֱמָן אַתָּה לְהַחֲיוֹת מֵתִים.

We know from the stories of our ancestors, from Yitzchak, Pinchas, Yechezkel, and Elisha, the daily miracle of waking up every morning, the miracle of birth, and the origin of life in the universe that the Creator delivers – וְנֶאֱמָן אַתָּה לְהַחֲיוֹת מֵתִים.

Living for a time of Mashiach and an existence in a World to Come that we cannot comprehend, we can question if it’s worthwhile. As this blessing concludes, our people have trusted God, and Creation can trust the Creator. King Louis XIV of France once asked the great philosopher Blaise Pascal to prove the existence of God; Pascal pointed to the existence of the Jews. I am alive, and I choose to believe in life’s value and potential for meaning and that it leads somewhere good – וְנֶאֱמָן אַתָּה לְהַחֲיוֹת מֵתִים.

Mysticism

Jewish mysticism teaches that, like the body, the soul has an anatomy, a spiritual structure with different parts and functions. Deeply complex and nuanced, the familiar ones are Nefesh, Ruach, and Neshama, which we mostly use interchangeably; there are also more esoteric parts called Chaya and Yechida.

Moments of spiritual awakening are moments involving each level of the soul leveling up, reaching higher, and achieving a milestone of spiritual growth and deeper connection with the divine, firing and switching on, an aspect of revival.