Numbers - Cycle One - 3301-3613 - Massey

Massey is a powerful Torah portion. We see infinite visions, many that aren’t even human. Of course, as Jews, we’re used to this. Our prayer service (for example) refers to angels during the second half of the Shema and in almost every Torah portion God speaks to Moses. Whoever God is, He goes beyond Who. His vision goes beyond human. So, in Massey as well, we see that our breath, our inhale and exhale, our expansion and contraction, is not all there is. There’s a breath beyond breath, light beyond light. This can be frightening but it doesn’t have to be. Do angels breathe? Since they are a part of the divine, we can only imagine that their vibration is in the flow of light. Does their vibration have eyes? Sight is not relegated to eyesight. And not one vision is whole without the billions of others. So, even if we might get zapped (as in the journey with Nabav and Abihu; Leviticus, Shemini, 10‐2) we must have the humility to honor the increments of vision. We can’t be embraced by the divine if we can’t (through fear or ego) embrace all that is divine as well.

How do we reap this message from Massey? First, Massey means journeys. But why journeys? I always thought that we, the Israelites, took one journey and it lasted 40 days. Clearly, there isn’t one wandering like there isn’t one vision. There are millions of possibilities, of places where you can zig instead of zag. The repetition of “They left…” or “They journeyed…” always brings us back to the hub, to the starting point. It’s like when we see something there’s a quick survey before the next line of vision reaches out from our cells. Therefore, one vision encompasses and honors many vibrations. They are eternal and yes, they bring us to the land of Canaan, the symbol of divine consciousness.

How do we begin our journeys? From under the eyes of the Egyptians. But why use the word eyes? A choice was made and for a reason. First, many eyes (in this case hundreds of thousands) symbolize the many increments of vision. The use of Egyptian eyes (and not ours) indicates that all vision creates the divine. It’s also an announcement that to embrace God we must accept the integrity of all lines of vision, no matter how contrary, outrageous, threatening, trite, fast, slow, boring, weird, tough, sticky, invasive, impossible or frightening some may seem. If in Massey we open with the Egyptians, how much farther from our perspective can we get? As we soon learn, much. The big question is, how many vibrations can we take on? How far from our own comfortable vision can we wander?

Maybe that’s why, in Massey, we get the boundaries for Canaan. As we already know, that land is the symbol for divine consciousness. Therefore, these boundaries symbolize human limitations. For example, the only constant way we can expand and contract is through our breath. There is only so much light we can bring to the people we love, to the growth and shift of the land. But what if we try to go beyond? What exists out there? Isn’t that where we will find the millions of other visions so valued in our prayers and in so many places of Torah? What about the visions in our dreams (for example, Jacob’s dream)? What about the goal of Torah, divine consciousness? Can we get there, make those millions of journeys while never breaking borderlines? Who dares to wander beyond human limitations? Will it kill us? Is death a bad thing? Will we go crazy? Is madness bad? This is not a question that I can answer.

The boundaries are there to signal to us that if we choose to expand to the beyond‐human sacred we need the humility to be aware of the human danger.

Within Canaan, even more boundaries are created with the parceling out of land, tribe by tribe. We are given all of the leaders names. How do these names relate to the divine? Names are often used in Torah to define, recognize, consolidate and delineate as well as to protect (for example Pinchas 25:14). Here, the names are used to show that the billions of visions in this universe are best watched over carefully. Each ray of light is strongest if it vibrates with its own integrity and then merges with the whole. Each vision, as a ray of light, is strongest if it shines as itself, well defined. Each man has his own vision that, when strong, shines the divine light towards where he must wander.

So in Massey, we consider journeys (the millions of visions) and boundaries (the human limitations of these visions) in our embracing of the divine. But how do we connect with the journeys beyond our human potential? First, we realize the thin veil between the living and the dead.

It’s hard thinking about the dead. It hurts. We all love someone who isn’t here anymore. We want to reach out and touch that person, hold the hand, see the laugh, look deep into the eyes. We wake up in the morning and wonder what happened, why he or she is gone. It doesn’t seem fair that we age so fast, get closer and closer to our own death when life is so beautiful. These feelings are all sacred and important. It’s also important though to let go of them. Feelings do not define us. Something else does. Something greater. We find connection to that greatness if we look into the eyes of Massey.

In Massey, we see that death is sacred. We are reminded of Aaron’s death at the top of Mt Hor. There, given the image of a mountain peak, we have the center of an eye, all created and embraced, all expansion and contraction. In Chukath (20:23) Aaron is given respect at his death (despite God being upset at the waters of dispute, Chukath 20:22). What this means is Aaron is gifted with divine vision, all blended into one center, and that the dead therefore have vision in the form of a vibration that includes the living. We need not fear.

In Massey, we also see the fleeting aspect of death. In short, we can’t know it and we can’t avoid it. We see murderers who are sometimes dead and sometimes not. There are murderers who sometimes have intention and sometimes don’t. If the action is accidental, the murderer resides in cities made for refugees, in other words, on the outskirts of consciousness. If there is only one eyewitness, it’s not enough vision to support the claim. What I find amazing are all the incremental vibrations, the clear inability to grasp and define death, the possible death of a possible murderer, the many deaths (including inner), and death seen as the shifting evolution of a vision.

Finally, we get a real treat. After beginning with the eyes of the Egyptians, Massey ends its journey (the journey of a portion) with the eyes of the dead. The question is whether women should inherit. It is never said that the father is dead nor that the mother is a widow. There is no doubt though that they are in the story. Translation: The dead and the grieving (in other words, all of us) are connected by the fact that we are all left out of the lines. Because of this, we can connect the various worlds. The dead can transmit light to this place, to this time, to this community. We can transmit light beyond our borders. We all have invisible vision, invisible light, the ability to expand and contract either with or without breath. We all have equal presence everywhere. We all see through the white space. We are one. We are included in the us in Bereshit (1‐26) as well as in the image made in God’s likeness (Bereshit 1‐27). As far as I know, God is neither alive or dead. God’s spirit moved on the water’s surface (Bereshit 1‐2). Together, with great joy and great pain, in death and in life, we are all radiating towards the divine sacred.

So may we keep our eyes open to the millions of vibrations that create us. May we have respect for our boundaries as we wander towards divine consciousness and yet the humility to see beyond our small space. May we allow the light from the non living, whether they be angels or prophets, to create and embrace us and as our realization flows through our bodies may we have a flowering ability to create and embrace them as well. In knowing our likeness, may we get beyond our fear of death and the dead. And may we merge with the sacred by seeing, as if from the angels, the sacred in ourselves.