The Book that Channeled the Rabbi

Growing up, my family placed great value on critical thinking.  Goldstein’s First Rule was, to quote the Gershwin brothers, “It ain’t necessarily so.” Goldstein’s Second Rule was “It ain’t necessarily NOT so either.”

So perhaps it is not surprising that I have never been oriented towards spiritual gurus.  While I have been blessed with teachers and mentors, I have always held that a person’s wisest teacher is their own inner voice.  I have come to appreciate how some spiritual leaders are able open up certain kinds of spiritual experiences for their disciples, but that has never been my path.  

So perhaps it is surprising after all that I once had this experience of transmission through a book.

The book is by Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira, also known as the Piaseczner Rebbe.  If you read my blog regularly, you will know I often refer to him.  The Piaseczner is much beloved within Jewish mindfulness circles because of all the traditional Jewish teachers, he came the closest to describing the technology we know from Vipassana meditation based on his own independent observations of how the mind works. 

The Piaseczner is also beloved because of the heroic and tragic circumstances of his final years.  He was taken into the Warsaw Ghetto, where he worked in the face of unimaginable suffering to sustain Jewish life, both spiritually and in the physical realm.  Before the ghetto was liquidated, he managed to hide some of his teachings in a buried milk jar.  He was shot and killed in November 1943, but his writings were discovered after the war and many were posthumously published.  Of course, we don’t know how many were lost.

One of the manuscripts that was discovered after the war is a little book called B’nai Mahshavah Tovah, which has been translated by Andrea Cohen-Kiener under the title Conscious Community:  A Guide to Inner Work.  It describes how to create a community of spiritual seekers, with clear instructions for devotion and compelling insights about the nature of spirituality.  A number of years ago, I started reading the book in little bits as I commuted to and from work on the subway – not the most obvious place to engage in spiritual practice, but it was what I had at the time!

I finished reading the book on a Friday afternoon.  I had no plans for Shabbat; I was living by myself and figured I would have a quiet evening.  But as Shabbat got closer, I suddenly felt a desire to go to synagogue.  I tried to argue with myself:  I didn’t feel like getting dressed up.  I just wanted to rest.  But no, it was undeniable.  I had to go to Shabbat services.

So I got dressed and went.  I settled into my seat by myself and as soon as the service began, so did the tears.  I wept through the entire service until we got to the Kaddish.  And then I was done.  I felt purified and open.  I felt peaceful and fully in alignment with Shabbat.

I have no doubt that this experience was a result of the Piaseczner’s book, that something of his soul was able to communicate to mine, through the years, across languages and culture, from world of the dead to the world of the living, a mysterious transmission I had to surrender to.

I will be teaching this little book during the month of July, sharing the Piaseczner’s wisdom and insights.  I can’t promise any kind of mystical experience, but I can promise a thoughtful exploration of an important teacher’s beautiful Torah.  If you would like to join us, please let me know.