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    PARSHAS KI SEITZEI EMBRACING THE PARTS OF MYSELF THAT I UTTERLY DESPISE

    Holding Space For
    All My Parts,
    While Anchored in
    My Divinity,
    Brings Me a
    Double Portion of
    Light Who’s

    Doing the Talking?
    “Does marriage change one’s personality?”
    Greg asked his buddy Mike.
    “In a way,” says Mike. “You see, when I was
    engaged, I did most of the talking and she did
    most of the listening. When we just got married
    she did most of the talking and I did most of the
    listening.
    “Now we both do most of the talking and the
    neighbors do all the listening.”
    Firstborn Rights
    This week’s parsha, Ki Seitzei, states the
    following law:
    “If a man will have two wives, one beloved and
    one unloved, and both the loved and unloved
    wives have sons, and the firstborn son is that of
    the unloved one; on the day that this man wills
    his property to his sons, he cannot give the son
    of the beloved wife birthright preference above
    the son of the unloved wife, the firstborn.
    “Rather, he must recognize the firstborn, the
    son of the unloved one, to give him the double
    portion in all his property.”
    On the most literal level, these verses mandate

    that a firstborn son shall inherit a double
    portion of his father’s estate, while each
    subsequent son shall inherit an equal portion of
    the property. A father does not have the power
    to bequeath the double portion reserved for the
    firstborn to one of the other sons he loves, and
    any attempt to do so is ignored by Jewish law.
    As the Talmud makes clear, a person is
    certainly empowered to distribute his entire
    estate to one of the other sons or to his
    daughters, (and to any other individual for that
    matter), as long as he conveys it as a gift. But if
    he chooses to bequeath the estate to one of the
    sons as an inheritance and so deny his firstborn
    son’s rights as a natural heir, then the father’s
    attempt has no legal validity in the Jewish
    judicial system.
    What is disturbing, however, is the Torah’s
    need to state the point via a negative example
    of a man who loves one of his wives and
    loathes the other. Why was it necessary to use
    an offensive illustration to make the simple
    point that the firstborn son is entitled to a
    double portion of the inheritance regardless of
    the father’s preferences?
    A Spiritual Manual
    One of the essential factors to bear in mind
    during Torah study is the idea that each
    mitzvah, law, and episode described in the
    Torah contains—in addition to its physical and
    concrete interpretation—a psychological and
    spiritual dimension as well. In his commentary

    on the Torah, 13th-century Spanish sage,
    Nachmanides, writes: “The Torah discusses the
    physical reality, but it alludes to the world of
    the spirit.” Another great Kabbalist went even
    further. 17th-century mystic Rabbi Menachem
    Azaryah of Fanu (in Italy) states that “The
    Torah discusses the spiritual reality, and it
    alludes to the physical world.”
    The stories and laws in the Torah ought to be
    understood first and foremost as events and
    laws in the spiritual realm, and this is actually
    the primary method of Torah interpretation.
    But in its communication of spiritual truths, the
    Torah also lends itself to be interpreted
    physically and concretely.
    What then is the spiritual meaning of the
    seemingly crude description of “a man who
    will have two wives, one beloved and one
    unloved, and both the loved and unloved wives
    have sons, and the firstborn son is that of the
    hated one”? How are we to understand this in
    the universe of the spirit?
    The Struggling Vs. the Romantic Soul
    Judaism teaches that the relationship between
    each husband and wife reflects the cosmic
    relationship between G-d (the Groom) and the
    Jewish people (the Bride). The entire
    book “Shir HaShirim “ by Shlomo HaMelech
    is based on the notion that our human
    relationships reflect the Divine marriage with
    His people.
    Two types of people enter into a marriage with
    G-d: the “beloved spouse” and the “unloved
    spouse.” The “beloved spouse” represents
    those individuals who enjoy a continuous
    romance with G-d. Their souls are
    overflowing all the time with spiritual
    ecstasy, selfless idealism, and fiery
    inspiration. They cannot stop loving G-d,
    even for a moment. On the other end of the
    spectrum stand the “despised spouses,”
    people possessing internal struggles that can
    easily be spurned: My petty emotions, my
    immoral urges, my insecurities, anxieties,
    and foolish cravings, my narcissistic and
    angry moments.
    We are always married to G-d. We each have
    at our core a Divine soul, a derivative of
    infinite consciousness, the presence of G-d
    in our bodies, and thus we are always whole,
    powerful, content, humble, joyous, and
    alive. We are Divine. But the marriage, like
    many human marriages, does not come
    without struggle. We live with paradoxes. I
    have a divine soul but also an animal soul
    that is very active in my consciousness.
    Throughout my life, I must stand guard daily
    not to become a victim of instincts, emotions,
    and cravings that can eclipse my truth. I can
    look at myself and just see an “unloved
    spouse.”
    The Torah teaches us that G-d’s “firstborn
    son” may very well come not from His union
    with the beloved spouse but rather from His
    relationship with what we might call the
    despised spouse. The spiritual harvest that a
    struggling human being produces as a result
    of his or her internal work, may often be far
    deeper and more powerful than that of the
    so-called spiritually perfect person. The

    morality and the integrity that emerges from
    the midst of my confronting daily the parts of
    me that seem so loathsome contain a unique
    depth and splendor not possessed by the
    straightforward saintly path.
    What is more, when I have the courage to hold
    space with compassion for all my parts,
    including all of my petty, scary, strange, and
    painful emotions and thoughts, I can discover
    how each of these is eclipsing profoundly pure,
    sacred and Divine yearnings, even if covered
    over by crude and unpleasant emotions.
    Working with these parts can elevate and
    inspire even my Divine soul.
    Working with all the parts in my brain and
    heart, discovering the goodness deeply hidden
    in all of my emotions and dispositions, brings
    me to a much deeper space of oneness and
    love.
    Thus, “On the day that He wills His property to
    His sons, He cannot give the son of the beloved
    wife birthright preference above the son of the
    hated wife, the firstborn. Rather, He must
    recognize the firstborn, the son of the hated
    one, to give him the double portion in all His
    property.” On a spiritual level this means, that
    on the day that Moshiach will come, very
    speedily, when humanity will finally taste the
    full-Divinity in the world, and when I discover
    the Moshiach consciousness in my own
    intimate life, a “double portion” of G-dliness
    will be revealed in the arduous labor of the
    individual who never stopped embracing the
    bliss of his or her Divine soul, even while
    battling with an animal soul that calls itself
    “despised.”
    During the Struggle
    You might recall the moving poem written by a
    profound heart:
    One night I had a dream. I dreamed I was
    walking along the beach with G-d. Many
    scenes from my life flashed across the sky. In
    each scene, I noticed footprints in the sand.
    Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,
    other times there was only one.
    I noticed that during the low periods of my life,
    when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or
    defeat, I could see only one set of footprints.
    So I said to G-d, “You promised me, Lord, that
    you would walk with me always. But I have
    noticed that during the most difficult times of
    my life, there has only been one set of footprints
    in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, you
    were not there for me?”
    G-d replied, “My precious child, I love you,
    and would never leave you. The times when
    you saw only one set of footprints, was when I
    was carrying you.”
    (This essay is based on a discourse by Rabbi
    Schneur Zalman of Liadi delivered in 1793).