Albert Einstein wasn’t just a genius in the field of relativity theory. He was also a genius in the realm of the human spirit. 

The most beautiful and most profound emotion we can experience [he wrote] is the sensation of the mystical. It is the source of all true science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead. [“2,000 Quips, Quotes, and Anecdotes,” Seven worlds Corp., Knoxville, Tenn.] 

At this season of confession I must admit, using Einstein’s terms, that I am at least partly a stranger to the sense of the mystical. The spiritual life is hard for me, both to understand and to do. I’m sure I have plenty of company. As one teacher said,

The world is a kind of spiritual kindergarten where millions of bewildered infants are trying to spell “God” with the wrong blocks. [The Preacher’s Illustration Service, July/Aug 1996.] 

The wrong blocks?

A king's son became ill from sadness and depression. The king sought out many doctors, but none of them were able to cure the prince. Then a doctor arrived from a distant land and after examining the boy said that he had found a way to cure him: the prince must wear the shirt of a happy man.

The king sent his servants to wealthy men who lived in big mansions, thinking that they certainly must be happy, but they told the servants that they were not happy. The king next sent the servants to other wealthy and successful men, traders and builders, but the servants returned with the same answer.

Finally, they went to a shepherd, who told them that, yes, he was truly happy. But when they asked him for his shirt, he opened his jacket and showed them that he had no shirt. [Jewish Tales of Mystic Joy, p. 147] 

Like so many others – though that is no excuse – I sometimes try to escape the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune with the wrong blocks: a fancy car, a nice house filled with nice things, a closet full of nice clothes. But they did nothing to calm the terror when I, and then my wife, was diagnosed with cancer. They did nothing to heal the pain of surgery, of both my parents dying within seven months of each other, of my father-in-law’s death not long before that. “Things” are no cure for a troubled soul and a broken heart.

There aren’t even better blocks, the Jewish spiritual tradition teaches. But there is the attempt, the journey, that seeks a sense of the wonder and awe that we call God. It can be difficult. Don’t give up trying, say our teachers:

In the early stages of your

spiritual journey, it may seem that

Heaven is rejecting you and

spurning all your efforts.

Stay on course. Don’t give up.

In time, all barriers will disappear.

Growing spiritually can be like

a roller coaster ride. Take comfort

in the knowledge that

the way down is only

preparation for the way up.

[Jewish Lights Spirituality Handbook, p. 1] 

Jewish spirituality has roots stretching back thousands of years. In Hebrew we call it ruchaniyut, from the Hebrew word ruach, which means spirit, or breath. Just as breathing is a process, not a place, so too with spirituality. The journey stops only when our breathing stops. 

“The way up” becomes clearer when we stop seeking the spiritual in peak experiences, on the mountaintops of life, but in the everyday instead. That’s why, our tradition teaches, God spoke to Moses from a lowly thorn bush, from the unassuming and the everyday. What made Moses’ spiritual journey so unique is that he immediately knew to stop and see the wonder of the burning bush. The rest of us might have just passed by, not knowing what we’ve found or what to do with it, just like Reb Nachman’s students:

Reb Nachman was once walking at night with four of his Hasidim…He asked them to enter the orchard they were passing and to bring back the fruit of the first tree they came across. 

The four entered the orchard, and hurried to the first tree they saw. As they approached it, they saw that the tree bore a unique jewel-like fruit, which glittered in the night like precious gems and glowed with a light from within. 

One of the four turned to the others and warned them: “Most certainly this tree has been enchanted, and so must be the fruit. If we attempt to pick it we too may become enchanted. Even to touch it is dangerous.”

The second Hasid nodded his head in agreement: “Yes, it is possible we have stumbled on the tree that bears the forbidden fruit. If we pluck it we may bring a great sin down on ourselves.”

But the third Hasid protested: “Reb Nachman has directed us to bring back the fruit of the first tree we come across. This is the tree, whose fruit is no doubt a great blessing that must not be ignored.”

For a while after this there was silence. Then the fourth Hasid spoke: “I, for one, do not believe this tree and its fruit exist in this world; therefore, it is a illusion, and we must be dreaming.”

Each argued for his own theory, and each was like a ram butting his head against the wall of the others’ explanations. At last, with nothing decided, they came back to Reb Nachman empty-handed. They found him waiting outside the orchard, his features lined with grief. He asked them, knowing the answer in advance,

“Did any one of you bring back the fruit of the Tree of Life?” [Howard Schwartz, Adam’s Soul, pp. 104-5] 

The tree of life is always there: in a kiss, in telling a child that you’re proud of them, in saying I love you whether in words or more importantly, in deeds. The fruit is there for the taking. Don’t waste your time arguing about whether or not it’s “the right thing.” Take it!

I don’t want you to think that Jewish Spirituality is a dark and solemn process, something that takes place in doom and gloom in a darkened room. Quite the opposite. Our spiritual guides are unanimous in their teaching that the result of the spiritual quest is joy, wonder, and awe. Part of the process, they taught, was song, dance, laughter, and a sense of humor.:

There was once a renowned mystic whom the king ordered to be executed. The mystic threw himself at the king’s feet and told him of a wonderful wooden horse he had that with the proper preparation could be made to fly.

“Bring me this magic horse,” thundered the king, “and have him fly!”

“Oh, I cannot, Your Majesty,” replied the mystic, who explained that he needed a quiet place to make this miracle occur. “Lock me in a tower for safekeeping, if you wish, Your Majesty,” he said, “but for peace of mind I need the food and companionship I am used to.”

“And how long before the horse flies?” asked the king.

“About seven years, Your Majesty.” And so the king ordered it done. The mystic’s friends came to visit him in the beautiful and sumptuous tower that was his new home. “What are you doing?” they asked incredulously. “There is no way you can succeed at your work.” He replied, “Within seven years the king may die; there may be a revolution. And who knows – maybe I will be able to make that damned horse fly!” [Handbook, p. 340] 

The title of this sermon derives from the quip: What did the mystic say to the hot dog vendor? “Make me one with everything.” Becoming aware that we are one with everything (which is the title), is very much a part of Jewish spirituality. This is perhaps the most important spiritual teaching of all: we are not alone.

There is a story… Why so many stories? Because so much of what we try to say about spirituality can’t be said directly. It is not knowledge that can be conveyed. It is “knowingness” and that is often best experienced in ways only stories can evoke. So, there is a story…

Once there was a fish who started wondering, where was the ocean? She had heard all her life about the ocean and how we are born and die in it — how it surrounds us and how, when we surrender to it, we gain enlightenment. All this sounded very exciting to her, and she was determined to find it. So she swam from sea to sea, asking everyone she met whether they knew where to find the ocean. As far as I know, she is swimming still. [Handbook, p. 343] 

We are already there, say the mystics. We already swim in the ocean, are already one with everything. We are already one with God. But to allow ourselves to see and feel and taste the ocean, and the incredible joy that comes with doing that – ah, that is a journey indeed. We are used to expecting God to be Other, the one who rewards and punishes. Even our prayerbook is filled with such expectations. But, says the sage,

Think of it this way. If the world is covered by an ocean… we would not blame the ocean for its currents, its waves, or its storms. The ocean simply is. [God simply is. That God is everywhere] does not mean that God is in the business of judging, causing, intending, or even tolerating human misery. Correcting those things is the business of human beings. That is why God made us in the first place. [Handbook, pp. 79,80] 

That is why we were made in the first place: to clean up the mess. We have a purpose! We are not an accident. Sometimes we are aware of what our individual purpose is, what unique role we play. Much of the time we are not, say the mystics. But always, they say, we do have a purpose. We are malachim, messengers. We are messengers of the Most High, one with everything, part of the ocean of being, one with the waves, the currents, even the storms.

We are taught that everyone is a messenger at least once, and some more often than that. One of the foremost teachers of Jewish spirituality in the Reform movement, Rabbi Lawrence Kushner writes:

Each lifetime is the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

For some there are more pieces.

For others the puzzle is more difficult to assemble.

Some seem to be born with a nearly completed puzzle.

And so it goes.

Souls going this way and that

Trying to assemble the myriad parts.

But know this. No one has within themselves

All the pieces to their puzzle.

Like before the days when they used to seal

Jigsaw puzzles in cellophane. Insuring that

All the pieces were there.

Everyone carries with them at least one and

[Sometimes] Many pieces to someone else’s puzzle.

Sometimes they know it.

Sometimes they don’t.

And when you present your piece

Which is worthless to you,

To another, whether you know it or not,

Whether they know it or not,

You are a messenger from the Most High. [Handbook, pp. 377-8] 

So much mystery. So much that can’t be said but can only be hinted at in stories and anecdotes. Jewish spirituality? It seems to defy all attempts to define it, perhaps because it not really something to be understood. It is something to be experienced. It is to be known rather then known about.:

As a young married man, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev lived with his father-in-law, who supported him, a dour man who did nothing but study Torah day and night…

Once, Levi Yitzchak returned from a trip he made to visit his rebbe and teacher, Rabbi Dov Ber, the Maggid of Mezritch, and was confronted by his father-in-law, who was upset that he “wasted his time” traveling to and from his rebbe instead of devoting every minute to Torah study. His father-in-law asked him why he needed to visit his teacher. What did he learn there that he could not learn from books? What was so important that he had to waste so much time on a long trip? 

“I learned,” answered Levi Yitzhak, “that there is a Creator, who made the heavens and the earth!”

“Even the maid knows that!” scoffed his father-in-law, who called over the maid and asked her, “Is there a Creator?”

“Of course!” replied the maid.

“Do you see?” said the father-in-law triumphantly.

“She says it,” replied Rabbi Levi Yitzhak with fire in his voice; “I know it.” [Yitzhak Buxbaum, Jewish Tales of Mystic Joy, pp. 36-7] 

Will this be the year that we seek wonder and joy by understanding that the journey, not the destination, is the important thing? 

Will this be the year that we find amazement and meaning and love, and humor, in the everyday?

Will this be the year that we understand that we are already one with everything?

Will this be the year that we accept that we already have a purpose?

Will this be the year that we know rather than only think, experience the wonder for ourselves and not just talk about it?

You know who holds the answers to these questions.

In this coming year – in every year – may our holy journey be blessed.