By Lorie A. Parch
Illustration by Jody Hewgill
In a world of seemingly endless to-do lists and 24/7 demands, a simple meditation practice can transform our lives, practically and spiritually
Think of the word meditation and chances are good you'll conjure up an image of rows of scarlet-robed monks sitting peacefully for hours on end, or maybe you'll flash on a news report about some study showing that meditation will make you calmer, smarter, healthier, and longer-lived. Odds are, though, that you won't picture your rabbi sitting in the lotus position. Many Jews aren't even aware that there is such a thing as Jewish meditation, even if they've dabbled in Buddhism or regularly attend their favorite yoga teacher's satsangs. But the truth is that Judaism has its own rich tradition of contemplative practice, stemming largely from Hasidism and Kabbalah. "Meditation in one form or another was a practice through the centuries of Judaism," says Nan Fink Gefen, Ph.D., author of Discovering Jewish Meditation: Instruction and Guidance for Learning an Ancient Spiritual Practice (Jewish Lights Publishing, 1999). "Until the 18th century, it was very much associated with Kabbalah and Jewish mysticism, and those people were pretty private about what they did." But some information did filter down through the ages, revealing a long tradition. "A 13th-century teacher of Jewish meditation, Abraham Abulafia, devised meditations that focused on the names of God," says Gefen. "Isaac Luria and the kabbalist mystics at Safed meditated regularly; they used to go out in the field to meditate before Shabbat." Hasidism's establishment in Eastern Europe in the 18th and 19th centuries broke up the secret society of Jewish meditation and made it much more accessible to the average Jew, Gefen adds. "People began to use prayer as a mantra, saying the words over and over."
Fast-forward to 2008, when rabbis and teachers across the country are incorporating some types of contemplative technique into lectures, classes, community and retreat centers, as well as synagogue services, and countless more Jews are following their own daily meditation practice. Some people integrate Eastern meditation approaches, while others strive to be fundamentally Jewish. "Jewish meditation has its own flavor, because it uses the rich language of Judaism to talk about an experience that's universal," says Rabbi Shefa Gold, who recently came out with a CD, The Majesty of Nurture (www.rabbishefagold.com).
And what is that flavor, exactly? A good deal of what makes Jewish meditation Jewish has to do with its focus on sacred letters, words, and texts. So you might meditate on a single word, like Shalom, Adonai, or the four consonants YHWH. "People take a phrase or word or a piece of a prayer and sit with it to see how it resonates with them," says Rabbi Helen Cohn of Congregation Chaverim in Tucson, who also gives her meditation students cards, each with a large Hebrew letter written on it as a focal point for visualization. Or maybe you'd concentrate on the Modeh ani, the morning prayer of gratitude for being alive. Simple acts of mindful gratefulness are powerful and don't require more time out of your day, says Sylvia Boorstein, author of Happiness Is an Inside Job: Practices for a Joyful Life (Ballantine, 2008). "When you look down and see a plate of food in front of you, you can think, ‘Half the world is sitting down to no food.' It's a miracle if you really thought about it, that this is happening and you're in good enough health to eat it," she says. "That's a very good paradigm for the difference of paying attention to your behavior and having a religious act become a meaningful act. Everybody's life is full of those miracles."
Blessings (brachot) are another way to integrate Judaism into a practice of mindfulness, which is the heart of meditation. Brachot require stopping to realize that things could have been otherwise: "Every time you walk out your door and notice the mezuzah and touch it, it's a moment of blessing and you're not on automatic anymore," says Shefa Gold. Gefen adds, "There is so much in Judaism that one can draw on—for example, lighting the candles and spending some time being present with the light of the candles."
Rabbi Sheila Peltz Weinberg, outreach director at the Institute for Jewish Spirituality in New York, likes to explore multiple levels of meaning in sacred texts, as the Hasidim did centuries ago. The story of the Jews in exile and coming out of Egypt, for example, isn't just historic; it becomes metaphorical as well. "Often, our awareness may appear to be in exile," explains Weinberg. "When we sit and pay attention without judgment we're cultivating awareness, allowing it to emerge, as if from exile. We are working to build up the power of awareness, and we are becoming more free, and we are ‘coming out of Egypt.' " Rabbi Jeff Roth of the Awakened Heart Project for Contemplative Judaism uses parts of prayers from standard prayer books to encourage mindfulness. "Meditative prayer tends to slow down the experience—so, for example, with one practice each word has its own focus, so you might pray at the speed of only one word per breath."
If you're wondering what the difference is between prayer and meditation, there's no easy answer; there's a fine line between the two. "One thing I've heard is that prayer is talking to God and meditating is listening to God," says Weinberg. "That's a nice way of thinking of it, but it's not an absolute division, since there's a Jewish meditation called Hitodedut, which consists of talking to God too." In a nutshell, it may be useful to think that meditation can enhance your prayer life (think of the meditating Kabbalists who headed for the fields before Shabbat prayers), and vice versa. Weinberg thinks that for some, meditating may be a way to start praying: "Prayer puts off a lot of people. They don't understand it; it doesn't make sense to them. Meditation may be a way for them to connect to God again, find a sense of peace and ease, and feel more awake or authentic in their lives." Whatever you call it—prayer, meditation, or meditative prayer—Jewish meditation addresses the problem of what Roth calls small mind, or mochin de'katnut. "That's just our normal, waking mindset, where most of us are most of the time," Roth says. "It's the mind that's focused on getting the things it likes and getting rid of things we don't like. It's how we look at most moments, which causes pain and suffering to ourselves and others." But with meditation, over time we can expand our awareness to create mochin de'gadlut, or larger mind. "In the larger mind-state it's possible to experience the divine," he explains. "The point of Jewish meditation is to see the divine in all things, which tempers the tendency toward small mind and selfishness."
Nearly every meditation practice begins with simply paying attention to your breath. "We don't just say ‘focus on your breath,' " says Nan Fink Gefen: "We teach in a Jewish context. For example, in Genesis we're told that God breathed into Adam, so there's that sense of the transfer of divine breath into human. So we'll talk about that, or that the word for ‘breath' in Hebrew and the word for ‘soul' are almost the same." Weinberg emphasizes the importance of kavanah (intention) as well as the breath. You can, for example, make your intention to be more mindful in everything you do, so (as with Sylvia Boorstein's example) your "meditation" becomes simply paying attention when you walk, eat, work, talk, or do anything else.
Focusing on words and texts doesn't work for everyone, which is why some teachers and practitioners like to add chanting. Chanting is a focus of Gold's meditation classes: "Everybody can sit in silence, but when you're chanting in Hebrew you're invoking the blessing of your ancestors," she explains. "When I study something, I don't know what it means until I chant it for a long time and I become that phrase." She also incorporates silence into her meditations and finds that it complements chanting. "After I've chanted for a while, I can find spaciousness in the silence; chanting helps to clear my mind and bring more to that silence. But I don't want to just be silent; I want to have an experience of God's presence in that silence. In all kinds of meditation the mind can get very cluttered and distracted, so chant conditions a state of mind where there's more depth and spaciousness and you're able to be in an openhearted place. As I chant, I can become aware of places in me that resist and hold back and want to compartmentalize and separate myself."
No matter what kind of meditation you do, don't be surprised if your biggest struggle is with "monkey mind"—the inability to stop your thoughts from running over to your day at work, a fight with your spouse, the errands you need to do on the way home. Counter that by starting small, with a five-minute sitting meditation every day, preferably at the same time and in a place where you won't be disturbed. Most important, strive to avoid self-criticism. "We say there's no such thing as a bad meditator or a failed meditator. If you do it, whatever happens is useful," says Gefen. "There's a huge amount one can learn from [a mind that won't stop thinking]. It's something to be present with—just notice it and let it go."
Being a little kinder to yourself as you start meditating may be tough, but it's key to one of the biggest benefits a practice can offer: knowing yourself better. "Meditation is an opportunity to sit quietly and develop a relationship with your own mind and the process of your own psyche and spirit, which can't really happen just by talking about it or studying or reading about it—you have to have some practice," says Weinberg, who's been meditating for 17 years. Other dividends of a regular practice include feeling calmer, more centered, less driven to react immediately, and better able to focus, Gefen adds. "Meditation is really hard work, and if, let's say, you're focusing on the letter aleph and you're filling yourself with that letter and then your mind wanders and you pull it back again, you are really developing the ability to focus."
Eventually, devoting yourself to a regular meditation practice may help you to see the spiritual nearly everywhere. "A tree isn't just a tree—it's something that has a deeper meaning," Gefen explains. "It's an opening to a more expansive spiritual consciousness that is not just connected to when you pray, it's connected to everything." This experience of oneness with all things around you and with God, called devekut in Hebrew (it also means cleaving to), is Jewish meditation's ultimate reward. Says Weinberg: "We are cultivating what we might call the divine attributes, the qualities we might identify with God: wisdom, patience, loving-kindness, and joy. You can only have these qualities and only have a relationship with God in the present, at this moment. By the practice of meditation we try to bring ourselves into the present, and in that sense, God is always present and it's just us showing up." Or, as Jeff Roth puts it: "Meditation looks like it's personal, private, and inward-looking, but it's the opposite. It leads to clarity, wisdom, a compassionate heart, and committed empowerment to act more kindly. All of it leads up to the last piece: translating meditation into kind action in the world."
