Elul: Becoming a Baal Teshuva in China

“China would be my way out. Chinese would be my way in.”

I’ll first start with a parable from the Baal Shem Tov. It is the book ends to my story.

A parable from Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov:

A King had an only son, the apple of his eye. The King wanted his son to master different fields of knowledge and to experience various cultures, so he sent him to a far-off country, supplied with a generous quantity of silver and gold. Far away from home, the son squandered all the money until he was left completely destitute. In his distress he resolved to return to his father’s house and after much difficulty, he managed to arrive at the gate of the courtyard to his father’s palace.

In the passage of time, he had actually forgotten the language of his native country, and he was unable to identify himself to the guards. In utter despair he began to cry out in a loud voice, and the King, who recognized the voice of his son, went out to him and brought him into the house, kissing him and hugging him.

The meaning of the parable: The King is G‑d. The prince is the Jewish people, who are called “Children of G‑d” (Deuteronomy 14:1). The King sends a soul down to this world in order to fulfill the Torah and mitzvot. However, the soul becomes very distant and forgets everything to which it was accustomed to above, and in the long exile it forgets even its own “language.” So it utters a simple cry to its Father in Heaven. This is the blowing of the shofar, a cry from deep within, expressing regret for the past and determination for the future. This cry elicits G‑d’s mercies, and He demonstrates His abiding affection for His child and forgives him.

This story is archetypal for Jews throughout our history. It is part of the cry that has occurred in our souls to which G-d responds in every generation. We go off, become immersed in the societies where we are, and our souls forget the language they were born with.

It is that moment of decision that is a moment of crisis too which with persistence turns into sweet sweet bitterness.

It is the point in our lives when we have everything but something is still missing. A soul which forgets its language can only cry out. A visceral response by both body and mind. Our soul’s cry is the sudden and unearthly realization that we must return to G-d. There we are. Just like Abraham, immersed in a culture and civilization that is so advanced and sophisticated, caught by the startling revelation that we will, like he, follow that call. We will “leave” our “homeland” seeking something more true.

It is the same agonizing cry which began with and punctuated all my travels.

Not only did I leave in a spiritual sense I did so in the geographical sense going to the furthest place possible away.

This is my story of transforming that cry into something workable. By route of Southwest China, Taiwan, Hongkong, Bhutan, Thailand; by way of a language, Chinese, which appears impenetrable, I would learn the language of my Jewish soul.

An Introduction to Civilizational Medicine

Medicine has one overarching objective: to protect, maintain, extend, and improve the life of its patients.  However, in modern medicine, a working definition for “life” is conspicuously absent.  What is life?  If treatment is directed to keep someone alive then what does living mean.  And if keeping a person alive is the end point of treatment what about living and living well.  A plant which goes un-watered in a pot in partial shade is “alive” and we can give remedies to help it, give it more water, more nutrients, netting but perhaps it needs to be placed into direct sun.  Perhaps it’s soil is incorrect.  Perhaps it needs watering only a specific amount a week.   If we define the plant and its life by only the pot and the place it’s in—the number of solutions and causes to its maladies are extremely narrow.  Moreover, if we define life for our plant by what is possible given what it has and where it is—it may never truly be alive.  Modern medicine has the same oversight.  Perhaps we should consider looking for a medicine that allows someone to thrive.

Years of study in both traditions outside and inside mainstream modern medicine have led me to one conclusion about medicine which is not obvious.  The greatest difference between medicine traditions developed from civilizational knowledge versus what has been developed in the last three to four hundred years in modern countries lay in their orientation and the point of where they begin.

Civilizational medicine starts from philosophy.  They define what the world is, what comprises right living, why things are the way they are.  They spend volumes and volumes elucidating with all its subtleties what life comprises of—although they never define.  What great prophet has there been at any time to be so bold as to define life other than the Maker himself.  These traditions map out life with a million branches that speak for themselves.  Contrast that to more modern medicine.  Life is simply defined by a particular cellular pattern at the molecular level and the presence of a heartbeat at a biological level.  Seems narrow when we consider all the facets of life.  Life defined like this misses so many facets tangible and intangible, qualitative and quantitative, numerable and innumerable.   

This oversight is what leads to two very different orientations when it comes to healing people.  From traditions that have working maps of life their end point for healing is an ever more stabilizing foundation which ultimately transforms our abilities in life and our ability to live by magnitudes.  In contrast, in medicine used in modern countries the orientation is primarily, to borrow an analogy: to repair the broken car.  Laden in these two perspectives is another overlooked perspective—one which is not obvious as well. 

Modern medicine’s outlook is that aging should naturally mean a person degrades—physically, mentally, energetically although perhaps not emotionally.  Entropy is taken as fact.  Civilizational medicine systems employ the opposite perspective (negentropy).  Life, the longer it goes builds on itself until just toward the final stage where it becomes no more.  We don’t look at Sequoias and Redwoods and say how unhealthy these hundreds of years old trees are—we look at their grandeur and their strength and their longevity.  Why should age necessarily mean decline? 

Perhaps a younger person has more vigor and baseline ability when they move than an elderly person but the elderly person may have learned to move well minimizing strain and waste of energy.  Maybe they are less prone to have moods that throw them off track or lead them to pursue bad habits to cope.  Aging, in these civilizational frameworks aging does not necessarily imply worse health—they suggest all so softly that we have limitations but those limits are hedged by something we have gained: wisdom.  In civilizational traditions—health is synonymous with wisdom.  A person who is healthy is successful in many areas of their life—they have mastered the secrets of living. 

Living encompasses much more than basic biology—and this is where major differences lay.  The suggestions about health from civilizational traditions give improvements that influence a person’s life while modern traditions give suggestions that improve biology.  A simple analogy may be used—metallurgist may be able to give pointed advice for the properties and limitations of metals used in the construction of a factory but if one relied solely on his words to develop a well-run business from that factory it would seriously fall short.  The metallurgist knows basic properties like more heat on the machines means more strain or every 500 units manufactured the machines need maintenance but it would only be a very basic component of running the whole business. 

With this introduction, I will dive into a topic which is a passion of mine and has been the subject and labor of many hours of research, analysis and reflection.  The physical location of emotional pain.

Elul: Becoming a Baal Teshuva in China

渴望

This character started with a conversation about G-d which poured out of my mouth. It came forth to a dear brother, Hejun. It was the first word I had to describe my yearning for G-d and it came in Chinese.

I was parsing the meaning of this word sitting on the floor of my home, my immediate surroundings only lit by a few candles. My smallish home which rested atop a wooden platform I had built. In my rented farm plot which was beside a mountain with nineteen snowy peaks and eighteen craggy canyons and rushing icy water.

My HP computer in front of me, sitting Japanese style on my knees, I was working through a snarly problem on Microsoft word in my yurt.

I had the enchanting song by Joey Weisenberg “Nishmat Kol Chai” on repeat, trying to parse what haunted me about this melody. I couldn’t put it down down. After many long hours of labor I hashed out my notes:

  • 回音,God’s searching for us, our searching for God, yearning, longing, 渴望, kewang, literally to thirst for, describes literally god’s thirst for us and our thirst for god, a fully embodied experience, felt throughout one’s entire body.

Let me draw our attention first to the second word, 渴望 to long for. With a careful exegesis of the word we can bring our thoughts to the significance of the left side 渴 thirst. To long for something in Chinese is imbued with a quality of thirst. Lets explicate this word to further unpack it. First we can compare thirst with its analogue, hunger.

Thirst isn’t just something mentally ‘experienced,’ it is simultaneously an emotion and a physical reaction, an emotional-physical reaction wrought throughout our entire body. Thirst, unlike hunger, is something we can deny only for a very short period of time compared with hunger. People can go on hunger strikes for weeks and weeks and weeks but in only three days without water we simply perish. So to thirst for something, by definition, is a much more powerful pull than to hunger.

Compare the experience of relieving your hunger after a whole day fast versus the quenching of a thirst after just a short few hours working under the hot sun. Parched thirst feels much worse than gnawing hunger. Without water, you can truly feel like you are dying and in three short days you will but without food you can mentally push away the idea. On a hot day, a person can easily succumb to heat stroke and dehydration without water; there are no ailments other than low blood sugar and a headache that can be caused by a short term lack of food.

渴望 was the foundation of my belief in G-d. And it still is. Torah is considered the water of life. I was literally thirsting for G-d. The sensation was so intense for me. It still is. I’m fully hydrated and I have a desperate feeling of a need for water that is only attributable to that.

Now let us take detour to 回音 where we will make a brief rest stop at Chinese grammar. 回音 meaning to echo and reply is itself an amazing term. One cannot escape the curious play on words once again. On the left 回means to return. On the right 音means sound. 回音Is it a noun or a verb? What is replying to whom? Who is replying to what? 回音is a word that is a verb and a noun. There is a dialogue of some kind happening. Sound goes out, it returns.

In Chinese, 回 is in the word to answer and give a response. It is in go home, return to your home country, come back, go back, recall, recollect, turn one’s head (to reflect on something). Those are about all the common words I can recollect when I see 回. When I look at 回 I don’t just see return, I see all the compound words used with this character. Chinese words always have compounds. In fact, speaking good Chinese is to use compound instead of single words when you speak.

So for me, I see an amalgamation of terms around this word. 回 is also a homonym for very commonly used 会(although it’s tone is not the same) which implies future tense. It is also a homonym for fennel seed 茴香, grey 灰色 (different tone) and ash 灰. The associative patterns are nearly endless. So the word is connected to a hundred different study sessions, conversations and configurations. I may be distinct in this but I have very strong recall for all the ways in which this word is used.

Now we have to tackle 音 or sound. First we need to take another rest stop at Chinese grammar. Some characters in Chinese are representative of a whole class of words. For example, in English, we can say air, wind and oxygen but oxygen is the most formal and therefore encapsulating of the meaning. It sort of has the weight of scientific grade terminology. 音 is the same way. It’s not just the character for sound. It’s the character for sound! It carries the symbolic weight of the concept. It is a high grade term. All words possibly related to sound have this word. It’s weightiness asks for us to pause and contemplate it, the same way in English we would consider Nature with a capital N. It also looks like a bell, itself another symbol for sound. Fundamentally, it is connected to sound 声音 and music 音乐. It is also a category of diagnosis is medicine (as in the tenor of someone’s voice). It is like a force in language as gravity or resistance in physics.

With that small detour let us now return to the whole word 回音. The echoing cries of the female soloist in the song were Martin Buber’s treatise “I and Thou” in one word. They provoke a relationship with Hashem. Her haunting calls stimulate our soul which responds. Our soul soars and reaches Hashem evoking his attention. It’s Heschel’s proposal that G-d can reach us. It’s fantastic, amazing, unbelievable. It’s a musical term which even means to turn. It’s Teshuva!

My dear brother, Hejun was thirsty for something more dynamic, after his static sixteen years in Son of Man (to be explained). I was thirsty for G-d after my sixteen year slog through secular high school and undergraduate. Hejun had a dynamic relationship with G-d, I had a dynamic plan for my life.

Elul: Becoming a Baal Teshuva in China

I learned the first words I had to describe my spiritual yearning in Chinese. I don’t think my revelation for Judaism could have come about without the visual cues I received from the language. I won awards in black and white photography in high school, I have been a visual person all my life. I’ve had a strong sense for color, a good hand at sketching geometric structures, and a flair for arranging flowers and dinner plates. My childhood, rife with tension over the Jewish part was too fraught for me to find solace in magic of Hebrew. But my introduction to Chinese freshman year of college with endlessly copying hundreds of characters to memorize them set a meditative, redemptive, tenor to learning Chinese. I was drawn to the characters with a primal mysterious power (mysterious to me, that is). In hindsight I doesn’t take much of a leap to make the connection between Jews and language, “people of the book”, a world created by G-d’s speech. But my thoughts were elsewhere. However, I was acting out something very natural. After all, ours is the tongue from which all languages stem. Even Chinese.

悟了!

My friend said to me. ”You’ve gotten some awareness” as I poured tea with concentration into our cups. Tea 茶 a wonderful representative of Chinese’s grace and majesty with people 人, the linking point between leaves 艸 and trees 木. So tea just like heaven and earth cannot be made without man. 悟,I’d heard this word in the Journey to the West, arguably the most famous Chinese epic, about an powerful but morally vile Beautiful Monkey King, Sun Wukong, who becomes refined through his adoption of Buddhism and Daoism. I’d heard it in relation to waking up. Okay, file it away for further examination. Actually, 悟 connotes being awoken. Or awakening to something. Awareness the product of awakening.

For a long time I loved this character. It was my cherished friend. It’s sheer communicative power regularly amazed me. It’s ingenuity. 忄heart on the left 五 five at the top right 口 orfices at the bottom right. Pause. Think for a moment. There are five orfices in the face. Five senses. A sixth if I include the heart. “Get awareness” or “[you have] awoken!” was something about the various five senses and the heart. Aha! There is some sense beyond our five senses as the heart seems to imply. It also seems to allude to my question, beyond known knowledge what is beyond that ledge?

Chinese is a fascinating language to an English speaker because it plays a lot on tense in a way that English would never dream. A more ancient language, it breaks the rules of tense, requiring a double or a triple pass on every word. 悟 is a good example of this. It is related to “awoke.” We immediathhely crash into our problems of tense. Is it, “you awoke” or are you “awakening to something?” If we reduce it down are you the doer of the action or the receiver? That is pretty significant when it can seem to imply both. That then poses the question: to what have we awoken?

China is where I awoke to “seeing” the signs of my own yearning for G-d. It’s where I first realized that piercing cry.

Imagine a person who is halfway around the world in a remote location far away from someone they had a brief but passionate flare with and he realizes he have to go back and get married. Awakening to that piercing cry is like that. It seized me and overpowered me and I didn’t know what to do with it. I was so damn far away in every sense.

Derech HaTorah Simplified

Rav Abraham Isaac Kook. Chief Rabbi of Jerusalem and first Chief Rabbi of Israel.
First blessing after washing hands (netilat ye dayin). Nusaf Sefard.

I can’t put it more succinctly than these. Both ask for a fear and love of G-d. The opening prayer also asks for hearing the discipline of your father and not forsaking the teachings of your mother. Simple in speech, profound in composition. When it comes down to it. Each of these combined is the source of life.

Would there be less animosity in the world if…

Sesame seeds and ground coriander both popular from Tel Aviv to Beijing

If seeds were credited to the countries and places they came from? Are peoples souls just a tidge upset because their cultural heritage doesn’t receive a smidge of the credit for the “world genepool” that is responsible for the collective knowledge from which all developments have built upon? Yes, we live in 2020, but humanity and civilizations have developed, layers upon layers, why should some receive credit for their contributions and others not? This is the politics of the next 2-300 years. Credit. Will have to be given and one teeny tiny step closer to Moshiach will we all be. Maybe every person in humanity receives .0000000001 cent for the contribution their heritage goes to that goes toward universal health insurance for every person in the world. A global government? No, but a system of global governances–we’re all already connected. By economies, ecologies, intellectual property, biology,–in one hundred years at a large scale people from countries all around the world will receive credit for their country and heritages contributions to the development of humanity. Look at the institutions that already exist, the UN UNH, etc etc…don’t believe the leftist propaganda that “all systems are bad systems,” every thing is a system, an interconnected system, it’s called life.

Tamarind, common to Thailand, cashews and dried lemon.