On Rosh Hashanah I explored the concept of God, and described God as the Source of Goodness. I remarked that Goodness is all around us, but it is also within us, that divine spark in every person. Tonight I want to expand on that divine spark within us – something we may refer to as our soul.
It’s not easy to define what we mean when we use the term soul. In fact, it becomes even harder in Hebrew. English has two words to refer to this concept, spirit and soul. Hebrew has three words: nefesh, ruach, and neshama.
Nefesh means life-force. It is an ancient word for jugular, and during ancient times it was believed that our life was held in our throats. It refers to the physical aspects of life.
Ruach means spirit or wind, elements that are felt but not seen. Like wind, it can easily change. It refers to the emotional aspects of a person.
Neshama is our quintessential word for soul. Related to the word for breath, it is the combination of the physical and spiritual aspects of being.
In English, we often don’t differentiate between the “types” of soul. When we think of our own souls, we may think of who we are as people. We may think of our skills and talents – what would be classified as nefesh. We may think of our personalities, our likes and dislikes – what would be classified as ruach. We may also think of the aspect of life that cannot be properly observed or understood – what would be classified as neshama. It can be difficult to discern which someone is referring to with only the word soul.
In Hebrew, these three aspects of soul are not the same. Our nefesh can become weak or tired, just like our bodies. Our ruach can become volatile and unpredictable, just like the wind. But our neshama is pure; our neshama is the divine spark within us all, the source of goodness.
The neshama is the only aspect of our soul that never changes. When a baby is born, their nefesh and their ruach are still in development, but their neshama is fully developed. Sometimes when you see a baby, you can feel the warmth and goodness in your own being. Their neshama shines so brightly that you can feel its glow. I know the grandparents in the room know what I’m talking about.
In my experience, especially during times of self-improvement, we think only about our nefesh or our ruach: our actions, thoughts, and emotions. The aspects of us that are unique. We often ignore our neshama, the aspect that we all share. We may even take it for granted.
We confess our sins to purify our souls. But just as the English word for soul cannot encompass the distinction between nefesh, ruach, and neshama, so too the English word for sin cannot portray the meaning behind our confessions.
For the sin we have committed against you.... is not accurate. We have two Hebrew words for sin, cheit and aveirah. During our community confessional we use the term cheit... al cheit she’chatanu l’fanecha.
Sin connotes evil. It is not just wrong, it is morally wrong. A sin makes a person a sinner.
Cheit and aveirah are mistakes, not moral failings. They refer only to our actions, not to us as individuals. They literally mean to miss the mark and to walk the wrong path. We can miss the mark or walk the wrong path intentionally or unintentionally. Either way, we can always course-correct, try better, and return to our target. We say ashamnu, we are guilty, not bushanu, we are shameful. We say we have done bad things, we do not say we are bad people.
Brene Brown explains that guilt is “I’ve done something bad” while shame is “I am bad.” One is connected to our actions, while the other is connected to our identity.
We only atone for our mistakes, not for who we are.
I used to refer to teshuva as a deep clean on a house. That we may do surface cleans to keep our spaces manageable, but periodically we need a deep clean. But recently I’ve come to realize that my metaphor is incomplete.
To liken teshuva to a deep clean is only taking into account our nefesh and our ruach, but ignoring our neshama. Our nefesh and ruach, like our houses, are not perfect. They are all unique and distinct, with their own assets and issues. We can improve them, but there will always be imperfections or idiosyncrasies. There will be wear and tear, grooves developed through years of use. Our deep clean will not return our house to its original state, nor would we want to: we have grown to love the grooves. We appreciate our distinctions which make us unique.
Our neshama, however, has no wear and tear. It is as pure today as it was the day we were born. But even without wear and tear, it still needs our attention.
If our nefesh and ruach are a house, we can think of our neshama as a sun. The sun’s radiance never changes, but our perception of it does. Its light can be obscured by clouds that form.
If we feel like our light has dimmed, our tradition teaches us our neshama never dims. While our divine spark shines brightly, its light can become obscured by clouds. We only need to clear them to feel its glow again.
Clearing our clouds can help us feel the warmth of our internal sun, that healing glow I spoke about on Rosh Hashanah. Clearing our clouds can help others feel it too. I mentioned earlier the joy of a baby. With a neshama that has yet to develop obscuring clouds, a baby’s light is so strong that it can help clear the clouds of others. We may hold a baby, and suddenly our soul is not so stormy. There is a warmth, a hope, a love.
The deep clean is still important. But a clean house shrouded in darkness is not the warm, cozy home we deserve. We are not doing the work if we aren’t clearing our clouds.
It is not easy work. Our clouds develop through trauma, pain, and hardship. Heartbreak, disappointment, anger, grief, and loss. Experiences we all have. Our clouds grow and we harden our hearts, shut off our hope, and hide away our love.
There is a reason why we have the Yizkor prayer during Yom Kippur. Letting out our grief helps clear our clouds.
We may feel reluctant to clear the clouds. We shouldn’t be responsible for others’ wrongdoings, or for the random circumstances of life. But even if we didn’t create the clouds, we are the ones living with less light.
We deserve to feel our own light, to let others feel our light as well. Our clouds do not protect us, they only diminish our joy.
How can we know we have clouds to clear, or how to clear them? We may not be aware of our clouds or our light. We may have become used to the clouds. We may have forgotten the feel of the light.
The easiest way to identify a cloud is when it gets activated. If we remember a painful memory, we may feel a tightness in our chest or a desire to withdraw. When this happens, our neshama is communicating with our nefesh and our ruach. We feel it in our body, in our emotions. Our neshama is trying to purify itself. Our neshama is pushing the clouds to the outer parts of our soul, and they don’t like it one bit. Our nefesh and ruach will try and force it back down, and we must resist that urge. It’s painful, but we must be mindful of our clouds and confront them in order to release the darkness.
We may not have a space laser, but we can control the weather in our souls.
Martin Luther King Jr said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.” When we confront the clouds, we must do so with light. We must expel them with love.
Let us not attempt to become better by beating it out of ourselves. We must treat ourselves with love. We must remember the light in all of us, whether we can feel it or not. There will be times you don’t feel it in yourself, and times you don’t feel it in others. We must know that even if the light is obscured, deep down the Source of Goodness is there, pure, divine love, shining brightly as ever. We must believe that return is possible. We must do all we can to shine again.
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