Halacha as a Playground of Mindfulness

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Halacha as a Playground of Mindfulness

Last week I saw a comic depicting a fishbowl floating in an ocean. The fish in the fishbowl is labeled “religion.” The fish in the water outside the fishbowl is labeled “spirituality.” The implication is that the spirituality fish is looking upon the religion fish with pity, as if to say, “You poor thing. Why do you insist on being confined to this fishbowl when you could be free in the open ocean, like me?”

The comic had been posted in a mindfulness group on Facebook. This is not the first time I’ve encountered an underlying streak of anti-religious sentiment among self-identified practitioners of mindfulness. I don’t blame the creator of the comic, nor do I blame those for whom the comic resonates. As an Orthodox Jew, I would even describe myself as “anti-religious.” (And if that sounds like a paradox, read my article, Is Judaism a Religion?) Still, it irks me when I see legitimate criticisms and complaints about other religions indiscriminately applied to Judaism, and this is a perfect example: the sentiment in this comic is the polar opposite of my own experience as an observant Jew who aspires to live a life of mindfulness.

I agree with the image and captioning of the comic, but I disagree with its implied value judgment. Orthodox Judaism is like a fishbowl in that it imposes restrictions on an otherwise unrestricted life. Those who choose not to observe halacha are like the fish in the ocean in that they aren’t confined. However, being unconfined is not the same as being free, and the boundaries of halacha constitute a path to true human freedom.

This is not a chidush (novel insight). I’ve given shiurim and written articles about my own take on the liberating qualities of halacha. My favorite of these articles is I Hate Sukkah (in a Good Way), in which I draw upon dialogue from My Dinner With Andre and the teachings of Bruce Lee to frame halacha as a system of “skillful frustrations” designed to promote our development as truth-seeking human beings.

But while I have written articles on the relationship between halacha and freedom, I haven’t addressed the relationship between halacha and mindfulness – specifically, the type of mindfulness valued by those who agree with the comic. Chapter 14 of Greg McKeown’s book, Essentialism: the Disciplined Pursuit of Less, is entitled: “Limit: the freedom of setting boundaries.” The author illustrates this counter-intuitive point with an anecdote:

This truth is demonstrated by the story of a school located next to a busy road. At first the children played only on a small swath of the playground, close to the building where the grownups could keep their eyes on them. But then someone constructed a fence around the playground. Now the children were able to play anywhere and everywhere on the playground. Their freedom, in effect, more than doubled.

Similarly, when we don’t set clear boundaries in our lives we can end up imprisoned by the limits others have set for us. When we have clear boundaries, on the other hand, we are free to select from the whole area – or the whole range of options – that we have deliberately chosen to explore.

Halacha transforms every aspect of life into an anchor for mindfulness. Our “fishbowls,” the boundaries created by our halachic obligations and restrictions, serve as our prompts. By surrounding ourselves with these manifold mindfulness prompts, we enjoy countless opportunities for awakening. And since all the mitzvos have reasons – to develop our intellects, our character traits, or to promote justice in society – these prompts not only pull us out of the trance of mindlessness, but they also develop us in specific ways. In other words, not only do they facilitate “awakening from,” but also “awakening to.” Halacha guides us towards mindfulness in everything we do.

For these reasons and more, I believe that the fish inside the bowl enjoys more freedom than the fish in the ocean.

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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you. 

If you would like to sponsor an article, shiur, or podcast episode, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone. 

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here. 

Tallis as a Vehicle of Gratitude and a Reminder of Death

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Caption: body of former Israeli army's chief rabbi, Avihai Ronsky, on April 1, 2018. 

Tallis as a Vehicle of Gratitude and a Reminder of Death

I had just finished my pre-shacharis meditation. I said the birkas ha’mitzvah on my tallis, which I wrapped around my head, shoulders, and upper body, as I do every morning. While still enwrapped, I was suddenly filled with a rush of gratitude. I felt grateful to Hashem for commanding us in mitzvos like tzitzis as tools of zechirah (remembering) to save us from the perpetual threat of shichechah (forgetting). In contrast to non-Jews, who are left to their own devices and practice – like the meditation I had just done – we Jews are obligated in a regimen designed to foster awakening, mindfulness, and true human development.

Upon experiencing these feelings, I decided I’d try a new experiment: every day, right after saying the berachah and wrapping myself in my tallis, I would take a Sacred Pause to reflect on my gratitude to Hashem for all mitzvos. I then laughed at the unoriginality of what I had just proposed upon realizing that this is exactly why Ezra and his Beis Din instituted a birkas ha’mitzvah in the first place! My “experiment” was nothing more than an intentional following through with what halacha had already prescribed.

I shared these thoughts with my chavrusa, noting that tallis is the perfect vehicle for this reflection because tzitzis were designed to remind us of all mitzvos. My chavrusa added: “Not only that, but your tallis is like a hug!” That comment, strange as it may sound to some, inspired me to add an element to my experiment. 

In Radical Compassion, Tara Brach shares a “hugging meditation” developed by Thich Nhat Hanh. The two partners begin by embracing each other fully and mindfully. While in the embrace, they take three deep breaths together. During the first breath they each reflect: "I am going to die." During the second: "You are going to die." And during the third: "And we have just these precious moments together."

I decided that while I was wrapped in my tallis, reflecting on my gratitude to Hashem for  mitzvos, I would take three deep breaths. During the first I would reflect: “I, who have been granted this life of mitzvos, am going to die.” During the second: “You, all the other people in my life, are going to die.” And during the third: “And we have just these precious moments together to live this life enriched by mitzvos.”

I then realized that the tallis, itself, is a reminder of mortality, on account of the minhag to bury Jewish males in their tallis. Although there is a machlokess whether this tallis should or should not have tzitzis (see Shulchan Aruch Yoreh Deah 351:2), this has no bearing on the memento mori association to the tallis itself. Additionally, there are Gemaras which explicitly relate the mitzvah of tzitzis to the awareness that we will one day be niftar (i.e. dead and rendered exempt from mitzvos), such as Berachos 18a:

R’ Chiyya and R’ Yonasan were walking in a cemetery and the techeiles of R’ Yonasan’s [tzitzis] was cast to the ground [and dragging across the graves]. R’ Chiyya said: Lift it, so [the dead] will not say, “Tomorrow they will come to us, and now they are insulting us?”

This is the current incarnation of my tallis experiment. My hope is that this practice will enhance my overall gratitude to Hashem for the life of mitzvos He has given me, and that this appreciation will set the tone for my davening and for how I experience the rest of my day. After doing this every morning for a whole week (and counting), I can say that if the only moment of kavanah I manage to have in my entire shacharis is this three-breath pause for gratitude and reflection on the preciousness of this one life of mitzvos I have been given, then the experiment was well worth it.

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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you. 

If you would like to sponsor an article, shiur, or podcast episode, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone. 

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here. 

On Being Present in Tefilah

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Artwork: Counterspell, by Olena Richards

On Being Present in Tefilah

Let go of what has passed.

Let go of what may come.

Let go of what is happening now.

Don’t try to figure anything out.

Don’t try to make anything happen.

Relax, right now, and rest.

The early Sages would pause for a full hour before davening in order to have proper kavanah in tefilah (Mishnah Berachos 5:1). The Rambam (ad loc.) explains that they would pause “so that their [inner] conversation and thoughts would cease.” In other words, they did not use this hour to fill their minds with specific ideas in preparation for tefilah, but to empty their minds, in order that they may be refilled through their engagement in tefilah.

Earlier this year I conducted a radical tefilah experiment in which I sat with my eyes closed doing absolutely nothing for a full hour right before davening. I did this for three consecutive days. The results were remarkable. For the first half hour or so, my mind was a loud and chaotic traffic jam. Thoughts and feelings were honking their horns and yelling for attention. My inner productivity taskmaster strained against its seat belt, refusing to be still and wait. My inner skeptic berated me for wasting time. But eventually, these inner voices quieted down, and my mind settled into tranquility. And when I davened, I had better kavanah than ever before. Why? Because all the thoughts that would have distracted me during davening were allowed free reign to do and say whatever they wanted before davening!

I don’t have time to sit for a full hour before davening every day. Instead, I’ve been experimenting with a scaled down version: doing a guided meditation for 15-25 minutes before shacharis every morning and striving to continue that presence into tefilah. This week I’ve chosen Tara Brach’s Letting Go and Letting Be. It begins by focusing on the breath, continues with a body scan, and culminates in a reflection on the six-line teaching cited at the beginning of this article.

I was recently asked by a fellow Jewish educator: “Mindfulness practices are about being present. How does that jive with a religion that teaches: ‘Who is wise? One who sees the future?' (Tamid 32a).” I answered that worrying, stressing out, and having anxiety about the future is not the same thing as seeing the future. Obsessing over the “virtual reality” in my head isn’t the same thing as living in reality. By focusing on the present, these mindfulness practices uncloud my mind of the thoughts and feelings which warp and obscure my ability to see the future clearly.

Tefilah requires the same clarity and presence. The types of thoughts and feelings which interfere with my kavanah – planning, rehearsing, fretting, fearing, doubting – all stem from my egoic preoccupation with the future. When my head is stuck in the future, I can’t be present enough to engage in mindful shevach (praise), bakashah (request), and hodaah (thanks) in the present. Chazal teach that ego and God cannot dwell together in the same world (Sotah 5a). As long as my ego continually asserts itself in its efforts to control its future, then I am incapable of standing before Hashem in tefilah. By pausing and letting go before tefilah, I can be present in tefilah. I can say “hineini” (here I am).

Let go of what has passed.

Let go of what may come.

Let go of what is happening now.

Don’t try to figure anything out.

Don’t try to make anything happen.

Relax, right now, and rest.

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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you. 

If you would like to sponsor an article, shiur, or podcast episode, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone. 

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here. 

Bodily Posture as a Sensory Anchor for Kavanah in Tefilah

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Artwork: Memory Lapse, by Kristina Collantes

Bodily Posture as a Sensory Anchor for Kavanah in Tefilah

In Hilchos Tefilah Chapter 4, Rambam identifies five essential requirements for tefilah (i.e. the Amidah). One of these is kavanas ha’leiv (mental focus): “a person should empty their mind of all thoughts and see themselves as though they are standing before the shechinah (Divine presence)” (Hilchos Tefilah 4:15).

In Hilchos Tefilah Chapter 5, Rambam lists eight additional requirements for tefilah. Although these eight are obligatory, they are not indispensable for discharging one’s obligation. One of these requirements is tikkun ha’guf (preparation of the body):

When he stands in tefilah, he needs to place his feet side by side; he should direct his eyes downwards, as if he is looking at the earth; his heart should be faced upwards, as if he is standing in the sky; he places his hands clasped over his heart, the right on the left; he stands like a servant before his master, in awe, fear, and dread; and he shouldn’t rest his hands on his hips. (Hilchos Tefilah 5:4)

I am aware that there are specific ideas associated with each of these requirements. For example, the Rashba (Chidushei Aggadah Berachos 10b) explains that by placing our feet side by side and clasping our hands together – positions which restrict our movement – we are emulating the malachim (angels), whose movements are bound and determined solely by the will of God. However, I haven’t yet learned all the sources, so I can’t say anything about the general halachic character of tikkun ha’guf.

That being said, I recently discovered a new function of tikkun ha’guf, even if it’s not the actual purpose. In her book, True Refuge: Finding Peace and Freedom in Your Own Awakened Heart, Tara Brach writes:

[The] path to mindfulness begins with concentration – a one-pointed focusing of attention. It’s difficult to be mindful of your experience if your mind is lost in a continuous stream of discursive thought. So first we collect and quiet the mind by directing attention to a sensory anchor. This might mean following the breath, or scanning the body for sensations, or listening to sounds … With practice, whatever anchor you choose can become a reliable home base for your attention; like a good friend, it will help you reconnect with an inner sense of balance and well-being.

I had just read this passage in Tara Brach before davening one day and I realized: “Hey! I wonder whether the bodily postures of tikkun ha’guf could serve as sensory anchors for helping maintain kavanah?”

I decided to try it. When I stood up for my amidah, I paused and focused on my bodily sensations. I felt my two feet next to each other. I felt the weight of my right hand clasped on my left. I felt my left hand resting on my beating heart. I felt my bowed head. I felt my downward eyes. I began to daven … and it worked! In my usual davening, I’ll often “wake up” in the middle of a later berachah, my mind having wandered without realizing it. But after anchoring myself in the somatic sensations of my tefilah posture, whenever my mind started to wander, my focus would snap back to my bodily awareness, and be redirected to my kavanah. It kind of felt like a trampoline safety net: whenever I fell off the kavanah beam, I’d hit the trampoline of bodily awareness, and bounce back onto the beam. This occurred many times throughout my Amidah, and it’s worked for every tefilah in which I’ve consciously implemented it.

To be clear: I’m not saying that this is the purpose of tikkun ha’guf. The purpose undoubtedly lies in the particulars. All I’m saying is that utilizing tikkun ha’guf as a sensory anchor for kavanas ha’leiv has helped me to have better kavanah in my davening, and if you give it a try, maybe it’ll help you too.

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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you. 

If you would like to sponsor an article, shiur, or podcast episode, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone. 

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here.