Darkness

n this week's Torah portion, among other topics, we have the Ninth Plague; the plague of Darkness.(Exodus 10:21-23). We read that the darkness was actually palpable, and "No man saw his brother, and no man could rise from where he was sitting for three days". Rabbi Yitzchak Meir of Gur interpreted as follows "No man could see his brother, "see" in the sense of understand and respect. Each had his own "truth", which made no allowances for acceptance of another viewpoint. Therefore, no one could arise. No one could function and go about his day in a meaningful way, let alone see the light of G-d,, because his negativity simply doesn't allow him to process the message of G-d. But for the Children of Israel, "there was light in all their habitations". The events leading up to the Exodus produced a feeling of unity and mutual respect, that lit the way for discovering who they are, and where they are going." He gives the example of some people who scrupulously avoid getting into conversations before morning prayers, as they fear that it would be difficult to pray with devotion after engaging in mundane talk. When such people see others who DO engage in such talk, they have a choice. They could either think that the other person is woefully lacking in the desire and appreciation of the seriousness of prayer, or that the other person is on a higher spiritual level, and unaffected by pre-prayer conversation. If they takes the first route, they will be spending their time reading the prayer book, but filled with a sense of superiority that doesn't allow room for G-d. If they take the second route, they can arise. If they take the first route of "not seeing" their brothers, they will remain stationary, enveloped in darkness.

Stuck in the Mud

Rabbi Meir of Premishlan was poor. His friend and colleague, Rabbi Israel of Ruzhin, was quite wealthy. Once they were both travelling and happened to meet. Rabbi Israel was riding in a luxurious coach, with four strong horses. Rabbi Meir rode in a small cart, drawn by one skinny horse. Rabbi Israel said to his friend: "I use four horses, so that if I get stuck in the mud, they can pull the cart out. Why are you content with one?" Rabbi Meir replied "Since I know that I have only one weak horse, I am careful not to get stuck in the first place".

Rabbi Meir of Miracles

Yesterday I told of the holy Rabbi Yirmiah. A few feet from his unassuming tomb, there is a small road going up a hill. At the top, there are two synagogues, one Ashkenazi and one Sephardi, each overlapping a small catacomb containing the remains of the second century Talmudic rabbi, Rabbi Meir, often refereed to as "the Master of Miracles" (baal hanes). He was one of the keenest scholars of the Mishnah. He was the perennial optimist. In a debate as to when a person who had come to danger should be assumed dead, he argued that we never assume death until it actually presents itself His sister-in-law was taken prisoner by the Romans, who placed her in a brothel. She refused all pressures and threats to compromise her virtue.Rabbi Meir went to the brothel, and pleaded with the Roman official in charge to free her. His pleas did, in fact, move the official. However, the official was answerable to higher officials, and he feared for his life. Rabbi Meir told him not to worry. If he got into trouble, to simply say "G-d of Meir answer me, G-d of Meir answer me." The official did this, and great miracles occurred so that he came to no harm. Since then, it is customary in many Jewish communities, that a person experiencing difficulties either gives a coin to charity, or lights a candle, and says "G-d of Meir answer me!". Many (including yours truly)do this every day before morning prayers. Renovations were conducted (about a hundred years ago) at the synagogues over his grave, and the actual burial cave was discovered, filled with ancient clay lamps. The custom is very, very old.
When I lived in Israel, I went to Tiberias (Teveria) each month. Once our kids were old enough to take care of themselves for a few hours, my wife, Sima, would accompany me. The tomb of Rabbi Meir was always a major part of our journey. We prayed there for many things. of course, it is not Rabbi Meir, or any other person who performs the miracle; it is G-d. We are asking G-d for miracles in the merit of the righteous.
When our oldest son, Nachman, was in High School, he suddenly got a fever which had no obvious cause. After a few days, his Yeshiva sent him home. We took him to doctors, who performed every conceivable test. No explanation, no change...for an entire month. Finally, my wife and I decided to take make the trip to Teveria. We felt that we needed a miracle. We arrived at the tomb of Rabbi Meir at two in the afternoon. We prayed for an hour. At the end of the hour, we called our son to check how he was doing. He said "Fine! My fever broke at two o'clock!" Even before we prayed, as our feet took us into the presence of the Tzaddik, G-d sent healing!
My G-d heal all of our wounds, all of our worries, in the merit of all the righteous! G-d of Meir, answer us!

No Place

When I lived in Israel, I loved to travel to the Galilee, which, beside its natural beauty, is dotted with many places of historical and religious significance. Among these, are many tombs of Biblical and Talmudic figures. I have discussed in a previous post the fact that although some are opposed to the practice of praying at holy graves, many others (including yours truly) see great significance in these visits. (Those curious can do a search on this site) My most profound moments of feelings of both spirituous heights, and decent into the depths of what needs to be "fixed", have occurred during such moments. Among the graves I would most often frequent, was one that is little known to most people. It is of the Talmudic rabbi, Rabbi Yirmiyah (4th century). His tomb is marked in the middle of a modern hotel parking lot. It is fenced in, with a small cupola above. I spent many meaningful hours there in meditation and prayer. Why do I have this special feeling for him and that place? Here is the story.

Rabbi Yirmiyah lived in Babylon. He was a respected member of the rabbinic community there. But there was a problem. He asked "too many questions'. He would analyse statements of his colleagues, probing deeper and deeper, trying to assess all the implications of a statement. He would pose questions which his friends often considered overly defined, or even "strange". The most unusual step was taken of banning him from the meeting place of the rabbis! The door was closed! Eventually he was readmitted, but soon migrated to the Holy Land, where he became one of the most central figures of the Jerusalem Talmud. The great Kabbalist, Rabbi Isaac Luria (the ARI), made a remarkable comment. He said that, because of the indignity he suffered by being kept out of the gates of study, he is now the gate keeper in Paradise. No one gets in, unless he is okayed by Rabbi Yirmiyah! Perhaps it is fitting that he has an unassuming burial place, which has become a parking lot. His greatness and humility were not to be fathomed by most people. But G-d knows.
A similar idea to this was expressed by Rabbi Yitzchak Meir of Gur. Commenting on the Biblical command to have Cities of Refuge for accidental killers, where we read "I shall make for you a place where you will flee...", said the Rabbi of Gur "You feel that you have no place? You are condemned by all men? Then I shall make for you a place".
Don't we all feel like that at times? We have no place. No one knows. No one cares. No one understands. But G-d makes for us a place. We do belong. Even if the gates have been locked, G-d makes for us a refuge. We can begin again. Maybe we will be leaders, as Rabbi Yirmiyah became, maybe we will remain unrecognized by all but G-d.But we will have a place. After all, one of the Hebrew Names of G-d is "HaMakom" (the Place).