A Joyful Practice

Suffering & Hope (the “missing” Tuesday compilation) April 23, 2024

“Chag Sameach!” to everyone celebrating Passover and/or Counting the Omer (tonight)! Happy Riḍván!” to those celebrating “the Most Great Festival.” Many blessings to everyone, and especially to anyone observing Great Lent! Happy National Poetry Month!

This is the “missing” post for Tuesday, April 23^rd. It is a compilation post, which includes a little bit of new content mixed with previously posted content. You can request an audio recording of this practice via a comment below or (for a slightly faster reply) you can email myra (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.

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“First and foremost, we believe creation of the world, G-d created a world in which he wanted the human being to actually be able to do something – that is to say, to exercise free will, to be like G-d, meaning to be a creator, not to be lab rats…. He wants us to have a relationship with Him. But to have a relationship with G-d requires that I have an exercise of my free will…. Free will means an environment in which not necessarily do I always have pleasure when I make the right decisions and not necessarily does someone always suffer when they make the wrong decision. Free will is having real power to create stuff. Free will is having real power to alleviate suffering.”

— Rabbi Mordechai Becher, in vlog explaining one of several reasons why suffering exists

Take a close look at every major religion and philosophy, as well as all medical sciences, and we find the same two ends of a common thread: people suffer and people want their suffering to end. In the Yoga Sutras, Patanjali outlined the 8-Limbed Yoga Philosophy as a way to alleviate current suffering and prevent future suffering. He also described several obstacles and ailments from which people may suffer (YS 1.30-1.31); dysfunctional/afflicted thought patterns that lead to suffering (YS 2.2-2.9); and specifically pointed to meditation as a way to overcome the (YS 1.32 and YS 2.10-2.11).

Unfortunately, the caste system in India prevented some people from practicing Yoga. I have heard that Siddhartha Gautama was aware of the Yoga Philosophy, and probably practiced it, but — in large part because of the caste system — found that it wasn’t practical. So, he sat under the Bodhi tree and was determined to wait there until he awakened to the nature of reality. In some suttas, it says that the Buddha (“the Awakened One”) sat there for an additional seven days. Eventually, he started teaching from this enlightened state. Some say that he only ever taught about two things: suffering and the end of suffering. His teachings were codified in the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism and the Noble Eightfold Path. According to the former:

• Suffering exists
• Suffering is caused by attachment, clinging, craving
• There is an end to suffering
• The Noble Eight-fold Path is the way to end suffering

Following these paths includes some sitting… and waiting. What is promised at the end of the sitting and waiting is freedom from suffering. What we find in the middle is hope.

If we take another look at the major religions and philosophies, we find sacred stories about people suffering and waiting for the end of suffering; hoping for the alleviation of suffering. Just as it is interesting to note what people did (in the stories) to maintain hope and keep the faith while they were “waiting,” it is interesting to note how people observing Passover, Riḍván, and Great Lent find hope in these stories.

CLICK HERE and scroll down to “So Much Suffering,” if you are interested in the ways the Buddha and Moses had parallel life experiences and journeys to freedom. 

“What makes this night different from all [other] nights?

1) On all nights we need not dip even once, on this night we do so twice?
2) On all nights we eat chametz or matzah, and on this night only matzah?
3) On all nights we eat any kind of vegetables, and on this night maror?
4) On all nights we eat sitting upright or reclining, and on this night we all recline?”

— The Four Questions (“Ma Nishtana”)

“How is this practice different from all the other practices?” is a question you can ask before any practice. It is also a question that sounds a lot like “The Four Questions” traditionally asked by the youngest person at a Passover Seder. The word seder is a Hebrew word that means “order” or “arrangement,” and it refers to the ritual feast that people in the Jewish community have on the first night of Passover (or first two nights for Orthodox and Conservative communities outside of Israel). The meal is a symbolic celebration of the Exodus story, which is the story of how the Jews were freed from slavery in Egypt. Really, the meal is the story — beginning with the questions, which are also symbolic.

Passover, which is also called Pesach and The Feast of Unleavened Bread, is considered a spring festival. In ancient times, it was directly connected to the harvesting and offering of barley — which was the first grain to ripen and harvest in the Holy Land. For seven days (eight days for the Orthodox and Conservative communities, especially in the diaspora), people commemorate the story of Exodus, which is a story of faith, suffering, and hope.

The ritual observation actually begins before the Passover Seder, with the removal of chametz (“leavening”), as it is forbidden to consume, keep, or own chametz during Passover. Some forms or chametz will be burned; other forms can be given away or even sold. Keep in mind that the agents of “rising” or fermentation are not forbidden. In fact, wine is a required part of the celebration. However, the action of rising is symbolic and part of the story (NOTE Question 2: Where the Jews have to flee so fast their bread doesn’t have time to rise.)

Another part of the story and another ritual that occurs before the Passover Seder is the Fast of the Firstborn, which falls on the day before the evening of the Passover Seder (with adjustments made when Passover begins on a Saturday night — which is the end of the Sabbath). Again, this is a symbolic element of the story as first-born sons (and “newborn” sons) play critical roles in the Exodus story.

CLICK HERE to find out how the stories of Passover and Lent/Great Lent fit into the monomyth paradigm described by Joseph Campbell.

“The Lord saw that he had turned to see, and God called to him from within the thorn bush, and He said, ‘Moses, Moses!’ And he said, ‘Here I am!’”

— Shemot – Exodus 3:4

The Passover story comes with a backstory — and is, itself, the backstory (and the backdrop) for the Passion/Easter story. According to Shemot / Exodus, an Egyptian pharaoh first oppressed and then enslaved the Jewish people. He also ordered all Hebrew newborn sons to be killed. For a while, the midwives and the Jewish mothers circumvented Pharaoh’s order. Then, he ordered all the newborn sons to be thrown in the river. Jochebed, Moses’ birth mother, hid her son for three months. Then, she very cleverly placed him in a basket in the river and sent her daughter, Miriam, to watch the baby in the basket. When Pharaoh’s daughter scooped up the baby — who she would eventually name “Moses… ‘For I drew him from the water’” — Miriam offered to secure a wet nurse (who was, of course, Jochebed, their mother). In this way, Moses grew up as the Pharaoh’s grandson and, also, grew up knowing he was Jewish.

At the age of 40, Moses stepped in to protect a Jewish man who was being beaten by an Egyptian and had to flee his home. When he was 80, he was confronted by G-d (in the form of the burning bush) and commanded to return to Egypt and speak to Pharaoh about freeing the Jewish people. Theoretically, Moses was also 80 when he received the Torah, G-d’s truth for his people, and he was 120 when he died – but that’s a story for a different day.

“And He said, ‘For I will be with you, and this is the sign for you that it was I Who sent you. When you take the people out of Egypt, you will worship God on this mountain.’”

— quoted from Shemot – Exodus (3:12)

“God said to Moses, ‘Ehyeh asher ehyeh (I will be what I will be),’ and He said, ‘So shall you say to the children of Israel, “Ehyeh (I will be) has sent me to you.’””

— quoted from Shemot – Exodus (3:14)

In some ways, Moses was the perfect person to be the (human) hero of the story. However, he was humble to the point of lacking confidence. He did not want to give the Jewish people false hope and so he repeatedly asked who/what was commanding him. Rabbi David Fohrman, quoting Shlomo Yitzchaki, the medieval French rabbi known as Rashi, points out that when G­-d initial spoke to Moses and Moses asked for G-d’s identity, Moses was told three times that the One who spoke was the One who would always be with Moses and the Jewish people. Regardless of what they experience, Rashi explained, G-d will be with them. This is the very definition of compassion, which literally means “to suffer with.”

Moses’ humility and lack of confidence led him to seek the assistance of his brother Aaron. Of course, the Pharaoh did not believe in the G-d of Abraham and Moses. As a show of power, Aaron’s staff was turned into a snake. Pharaoh was not impressed and pointed out that he had magicians who could do the same “magic trick.” Even the fact that the brothers’ snake ate the other snakes was not enough for Pharaoh.

When the initial show of power didn’t convince Pharaoh of the authority of G-d, everyone was subject to nine plagues: blood, frogs, lice, wild beasts in the streets, pestilence, boils, hail, locusts, and day(s) of darkness. Remember: It was not only Pharaoh and the Egyptians who suffered. The Jews, who were already suffering the hardship of slavery, also had to endure the additional hardships. In other words, they were asked to endure more suffering, but to have faith that this period of more suffering would end with the alleviation of their suffering. Perhaps they found hope in a critical — but not often highlighted — aspect of the Ten Plagues: they not only started on command, they also ended on command.

On the evening of the tenth plague, the death of the first born male child, the Jewish families were told to smear lambs blood on their doors — so their households will be passed over. They were also commanded to celebrate and give thanks for their freedom — even though they are still slaves.

Yes, it is a little mind boggling; but, what passes as the first Passover Seder happened in Egypt and during a time of slavery. Considering Pharaoh had changed his mind before, they had no way of knowing (with any certainty) that they would be freed immediately after the tenth plague. See where this is going? In that moment, the Jewish people who chose to believe and celebrate were like the quantum mechanics Cat: simultaneously free and not free.

“When you pass through water, I am with you, and in rivers, they shall not overflow you; when you go amidst fire, you shall not be burnt, neither shall a flame burn amongst you.”

— quoted from Yeshayahu (Isaiah) (43:2)

“So said the Lord, who made a way in the sea, and a path in the mighty waters.”

— quoted from Yeshayahu (Isaiah) (43:16)

The people in the Passover story were told that the must have faith and follow the instructions of G-d in order to to be passed over and saved. They also had free will. So, it is important to note that not everyone celebrated the first Passover — neither did everyone flee when given the opportunity. It is also important to remember that celebrating freedom that had not yet been given/experienced was not the last time people in the Passover story had to keep the faith, hope, believe, and (with free will) act accordingly. There was a moment, after Pharaoh was compelled by the tenth plague to release the Jewish people (and after his heart hardened once again), when the Jewish people were between the tumultuous sea and Pharaoh’s army. According to the Midrash, talmudic commentary, Nahshon, believed that G-d would save the Jewish people and, therefore, waded into the water. It was his faith and his faith-based actions that caused G-d to turn the tide.

In modern times, this second night of Passover is when people begin Counting the Omer in Jewish mysticism (Kabbalah). Counting the Omer is a 49-day observation which reflects the days the newly freed Jews were in the desert and segues into the commemoration of the people receiving the Torah. When people Count the Omer there is an extra element of prayer, of offering, and also of contemplation on two connected elements of the Divine (from the Tree of Life). One the first night, the connected elements are Chesed She b’Chesed (“Lovingkindness in Lovingkindness”).

Divine love and the observation of Passover link the Jewish observations with the Christian observations of Lent and Great Lent, because, historically speaking, Jesus was a Jewish teacher or rabbi, who returned home to Jerusalem for Passover. The Gospel According to Saint John (12:1) is the only New Testament gospel that specifically refers to Passover as a reference point for the beginning of the last week of Jesus’ life. However, all four of the canonical gospels mention preparation for the festival, feast, or first day (depending on the translation) of “Unleavened Bread” and describe a jubilant and memorable moment where Jesus rode into town on a donkey (a symbol of peace) and was greeted by people who honored him by laying down palm fronds (and possibly coats) to cover his path. In Christian communities, Palm Sunday or Passion Sunday is the final Sunday of Lent / Great Lent and marks Christians’ final preparation for Easter.

In addition to people around the world observing Passover, Counting the Omer, and Great Lent, there are people around the world celebrating the twelve-day festival of Riḍván, one of the holiest times within the Bahá’í community, is celebrated during the second month and begins exactly one Gregorian-month after the new year. This “Most Great Festival” in the Baháʼí Faith commemorates the time that the founder of the Bahá’i Faith, Bahá’u’lláh, waited in the original garden of Riḍván prior to being exiled to Constantinople. His declarations in the garden gave people hope and, during these modern day celebrations, the Universal House of Justice issues an annual Riḍván message and holds elections. These messages are reflections meant to inspire hopeful, faith-based actions.

“The urgency of the present hour must not obscure the special joy that comes from service. The call to service is an uplifting, all-embracing summons. It attracts every faithful soul, even those weighed down by cares and obligations. For in all the ways in which that faithful soul is occupied can be discovered deep-rooted devotion and a lifelong concern for the well-being of others. Such qualities give coherence to a life of manifold demands. And the sweetest moments of all for any enkindled heart are those spent with spiritual sisters and brothers, tending to a society in need of spiritual nourishment.”

— quoted from the Riḍván 2022 message from the Universal House of Justice “To the Bahá’is of the World”

CLICK HERE and scroll down to the “ENTERING THE GARDEN” section for information about Riḍván.

“People ask me how I find hope. I answer that I don’t believe in hope, and I don’t believe in hopelessness. I believe in compassion and pragmatism, in doing what is right for its own sake. Hope can be lethal when you are fighting an autocracy because hope is inextricable from time. An enduring strategy of autocrats is to simply run out the clock.”

— quoted from Hiding in Plain Sight by Sarah Kendzior

Serendipitously, I received two texts from the same Austin suburb (on April 11, 2020). One was from a friend, sharing the Sarah Kendzior quote (above). The other was from my brother, asking why people were celebrating the same thing at different times. The short answer to my brother’s question is that it comes down to calendars and how people tell their stories (i.e., what is emphasized). A longer answer is all of these blog posts and classes, which come back to the fact that not everyone finds hope in the same place and/or in the same way.

At the end of the day (and often at the end of the practice), there are people whose faith and hope comes not from religion or spiritual philosophies, but from nature and even from other people. Just as some people are inspired by stories in sacred texts, scriptures, and history, there are many who are inspired by stories in songs — and/or the backstory of songs. While I typically offer a playlist with songs that, in and of themselves, tell the stories, this Tuesday’s playlist is a little different. Instead of songs that tell the story, it is a playlist mostly comprised of music by sigur rós.

On some albums, jónsi, who was born today in 1975, sings in Icelandic. On the third album, however, he sings in an imaginary language known as Vonlenska. Vonlenska, as identified by a journalist, first appeared in the ninth track of the band’s debut album. The song is called “Von,” the Icelandic word for “hope.” Hence the name: Volenska.  Hopelandic.

Hopelandic. How can you not love that name, or the idea of a place where the native language is hope?

Just like the track “18 sekúndur fyrir sólarupprás” (“18 Seconds before Sunrise”), the music and the language remind me of Rabbi Mordechai Becher’s thoughts on free will, suffering, and being creators. They remind me that in between the suffering and the end of suffering, there is an empty space that we can fill with hope or with more suffering. That hope can be the silence of meditation or it can be the “gibberish” that serves as a placeholder for the beauty to come.

“it’s of course not an actual language by definition (no vocabulary, grammar, etc.), it’s rather a form of gibberish vocals that fits to the music and acts as another instrument. jónsi likens it with what singers sometimes do when they’ve decided on the melody but haven’t written the lyrics yet.”

— from the faq section of the sigur rós website

CLICK HERE for the 2023 post about Hopelandic.

Tuesday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “04232023 The Language of Hope”]

NOTE: Since this is not the music we typically use for the aforementioned holidays, feel free to email or message me for a different playlist.

### VON / HOPE ###