Baby Steps
by Velvel "Wally" Spiegler

If I were asked to define Jewish spirituality in one line, I guess I would have to say—the work of drawing nearer to God. We all have our own definition, I’m sure, but I think this one seems to sum them all up best. I feel that these days, especially with the world in such turmoil and people suffering in so many ways, the pursuit of spirituality is a subject of great significance. What else can we lean on at times like this?

The image of Jacob’s ladder (Genesis 28:12) with angels both ascending and descending a stairway to heaven, portrays the struggle we all go through in the course of life—at times we go up and other times we come down. In Jewish metaphorical thinking, going down means distancing oneself from God and it is embodied by the concept of sin. Let’s be clear on what sin means. It’s derived from a Hebrew verb root that seems to imply “missing the mark”, like an archer whose arrows fall short of the target. So in that respect, sin could be any behavior that you consciously know—even though you prefer not to admit—missed the mark, or your inner voice knows is wrong. Sin doesn’t mean that you’re not a good Jew by driving on Shabbat or eating non-kosher foods.

Life always presents us with choices, like the angels, of ascending or descending, the ladder at every moment. The Jewish path upwards depends on the Mitzvah.  Yes, I know, the idea of the Mitzvah seems archaic and not keeping with today’s trends. But like it or not, the Mitzvah is the indisputable Jewish spiritual practice, meditations in motion. “Mitzvah” means a divinely ordained commandment, and since it emanates from spirit, we are assured that it affects our spiritual reality, from where all blessings and good originate. Jewish tradition is based on the actions we do here on the earthly plane. We create either good or evil by how we act, not how we think. The good we produce is accomplished in small steps.

The first step. We don’t have to get too uptight about fulfilling Mitzvot (plural of Mitzvah). Doing the Mitzvah is one side of the equation. The other, and more important part is the intent of the Mitzvah, the mind picture of how we wish the holy action to materialize. For example, I can light a Shabbat candle and then move on to the next phase, or I can light the candle and imagine myself filling the house with the light of holiness, then the whole house becomes holy.  Imagination is a function of the right brain hemisphere, and a portal to the spiritual worlds, the soul space. As we perform Mitzvot imaginatively (with intent), we take a step upwards. We can’t take on the Mitzvot all at once, but we could start with baby steps.

Judaism has a lot to do with connecting to our souls; the soul responds to the daydreams of the imagination.  Jewish tradition is founded on imaginative inventions; Take for example, the fantasy required in composing the legend of Elijah the prophet.  It is said that he went up to heaven in a fiery chariot, and returns to earth from time to time performing acts of kindness and awaiting the time when he will usher in the Messiah.  Think of all the imaginative tales that were woven by the ancient Rabbis who composed the vast body of Midrashic literature, as they searched their imagination for links between the gaps left unexplained in the Torah narrative. Consider the visualization that’s included in the Passover Seder, where we each imagine ourselves as slaves about to be redeemed from Egypt. Examples like this go on and on. How else, other than through the imagination, could the Rabbis hoped to enter the soul.

Recently I taught my six-year-old granddaughter a game I remember from my childhood; it’s called “Baby Steps”. Perhaps you know it too. It goes something like this. One player chosen as the leader, unknowingly playing the role of God, stands at one end of the room, and the rest of the players stand at the opposite end. The leader commands each player in turn to take a specified number of steps. They could be baby steps (small steps) or giant steps (big steps). The player receiving the command must ask, “May I” before taking the steps. Failure to say “May I” (akin to committing a sin) results in having to start all over again from the starting point. The first player to advance far enough to tag the leader (making contact with God) wins.

The second step. Besides Mitzvot we also have everyday acts of kindness (gemilut hasadim). The area holds unlimited possibilities for spiritual growth. Some examples include: extending a helping hand to anyone in need, greeting strangers with a smile and a kind word, opening our hearts to the suffering of others, and learning to unconditionally accept everything and everyone. The Kabbalah presents two interesting ideas on this subject. The first is that God created man as His partner in Creation, and second that the repair of the world (Tikkun Olam) is our way of becoming God’s helpmate in restoring the world to His original blueprint. In order to bring about this restoration of a shattered world, conflicting forces must be neutralized, like the chemical reaction between acid and alkaline. Only through our acts of kindness are we capable of putting the broken pieces back together again.

Let’s say, for example, that my friend feels guilty for disappointing me somehow and in response I graciously forgive him. I, in effect, restored something broken (that person’s calm) back to wholeness. I have returned the shattered state to the way God intended people to live, in peace. Each time you extend yourself with such acts of kindness, you have not only helped repair the world; you have now taken one giant step because you said, “May I”.