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22 SE Vayakhel
22 SE Vayakhel
22 SE Vayakhel
Sometimes we can be our own worst enemies. When we fall down, as we talked about
last week, it can be hard to get back up–not only because we might feel defeated, but
because we feel ourselves fundamentally unworthy of standing tall.
I have an 8 year old son named Nadiv, meaning ‘generous.’ He was conceived after a
struggle with infertility and repeat miscarriages. During those years of pain, I often felt
that I could not try again, lose again, hope again. My body couldn’t do it. My heart
couldn’t take it. I was mired in feelings of inadequacy. When Nadiv finally came along,
with help of modern medicine, I was flooded with love and awe and a surprising feeling
of sufficiency. He was enough. And I was enough. The universe had showered its
generosity upon me and I, in turn, could open my heart and be generous to it. The more
I gave of myself, the more solid I began to feel.
This week’s portion, Vayakhel, asks us to reflect on the relationship between generosity
and adequacy. It suggests that sometimes we need to give in order to receive.
***
Writing about the cultivation of nedivut lev, teacher Alan Morinis offers, in the spirit of
the Sefat Emet’s insights: “Gifts given with the express purpose of thawing a frozen
heart will, in time, cause fear to melt away and trust to grow. Each act of generosity
works to pry open the heart a little, like clearing a blocked stream one pebble at a
time. The flow of spontaneity is then freed to follow.” (Everyday Holiness: the Jewish
Spiritual Path of Mussar, p.160)
For this week’s practice, we draw from the Jewish spiritual tradition of Mussar, or
Tikkun Middot to help us cultivate this quality of nedivut lev. Your invitation is to find
At the end of each day, give some time to your own reflections and journal about the
three instances of your nedivut lev practice. If helpful you can use these prompts for
each of the acts of giving you engaged:
This practice is not intended to be a “quick fix” for the ways that your loving heart is
hiding and covered by hurt, shame, guilt, anger, regret or traumas that may have
resulted in a spiritual state of timtum ha’lev, a blocked or stopped up heart. But rather,
as you practice engaging in acts of giving, of extending generosity and kindness, you can
pay attention to any inner movements of thought, feeling, or flow, that do occur. Over
time, this practice can be like water washing over a stone—softening its hard edges and
revealing the essence of it that may have been covered over by silt, dirt, mud. A heart
can heal. Your own adequacy, worthiness, and availability for the flow of love into and
from your heart, can be revealed. That is the invitation of our teaching this week, and
the promise that our practice invites us to investigate in the truth of our own
experience.