Pilgrimage Letter 2 | Rabbi Shefa Gold

November 24th 2007
The Full moon in Gemini
The 14th of Kislev

The Call

Fellow Pilgrims,

When I think of the call to Pilgrimage, I recall Chapter 5 of The Song of Songs which lays out the challenge, the dilemma, and the reward. Embarking on a pilgrimage means making a commitment to the fullness of life. I travel to be awakened, to be healed and made whole.

(Below you’ll find my translation and commentary of Chapter 5 of Song of Songs.)

Feast, friends, and drink till you are drunk with love!

Yes, this is how I am to live my life! Each day a feast of taste, color and experience is set before me. I am commanded to know life intimately, to experience the whole range of what it means to be human, to quench my thirst for knowledge and pleasure. The drunkenness that is spoken of here happens when I go beyond the literal meaning of words, when I let the taste of finite things send me beyond the things themselves to the infinite mystery that beckons me. I share this feast with everyone and anyone who has made not only a commitment to love, but a commitment to celebrate love.

I was asleep but my heart stayed awake.
There it is… the sound of my lover knocking:

In so many ways I am asleep. I am lulled by the news and the constant din of media and commerce. I am in a trance that confirms an agreed-upon reality. I am trapped on the dry surface of my life while an underground river flows beneath me unseen and untouched. This is precisely why I travel to distant lands… in order to open to my own depths.

Yet there is a place in my heart that has stayed awake and is constantly awakening through the power of its yearning, through the pulse of its desire. The eyes of my heart blink open and the ears of my heart remain attentive to the call of Love. The sound is elusive yet persistent in its effort to break through the din of confusion and busyness that surrounds and fills my daily routines.

The sound of my lover knocking is the momentary startle of finding myself SO alive and vulnerable and touched by a color, a tender breeze, a word whispered to me in the darkness, a vivid memory or a sudden knowing. With my heart awake I hear the call to Love which is the call to glowing and lucid aliveness.

Open to me, my sister, my friend,
My dove, my perfect one!
My head is wet with dew,
My hair drenched in the damp of night.

In that state of aliveness, I hear the call of Love. God as Love implores me with sweetness and reminds me that I must let Him in. In my forgetfulness and distraction, I have closed the door. Everything depends on the simple gesture of opening, of turning, of letting God in. Every relationship of my life depends on my ability to open, to hear the real question that is left unspoken. When I am open, I can know and respond to the desires of my beloved even when he hasn’t figured it out yet himself.

And I call out to the world, with all my sweet longing, “Open to me…” Let there be a space for what I yearn to give. Let me find the door to fulfillment, adventure, comfort, enlightenment, honor. I call on this world as my friend. I call on all beings as my relations, my allies. I appeal to my lover to let me in.

But I have taken off my robes,
How can I dress again?
I have bathed my feet,
Must I dirty them?

When Love calls it is almost always at an inconvenient time. It means all the plans I have made must be scrapped and my heart must be torn open. This hesitation in answering the door is born of my complacency, my addictions, my dependence on the known and predictable. Deep down I know that when that door opens, everything in my life may have to change. All my careful planning, all my clever manipulations will be for nothing. My well-built illusion of control will be shattered. Complacency has shrouded my awareness and for a moment I am numb to the urgency of this “now.” My heart closes in habit. My ears are deaf to the sound of my Beloved. I just want to go back to sleep. When I miss the opportunity for Love, it is a moment of tragic proportions.

My love reached in for the latch
And deep within me, my heart stirred.

Even through this numbness, this complacency, my heart has stayed awake. Its longing finally stirs me. The beat of my yearning heart rouses me from the tragedy of paralysis. I realize that my stubborn habits and my inertia may have prevented the meeting that my heart has craved. I realize that by hesitating, I may have missed my chance for Love. I am like the Israelites who have been told they must leave Egypt immediately when Freedom calls. There is not even time to let the bread rise. I have been more concerned with my bread than my freedom.

I rose to open to my love
My hands dripping myrrh
My fingers flowing myrrh
On the doorbolt.

I must “rise” in order to “open.” I rise above my petty concerns. I take the wide perspective and lift myself up out of the entanglements of my ego’s manipulations. Only then can I open to Love. My hands “dripping myrrh” are a sign that my dry hesitation has been transformed into the passion that is necessary for me to finally act.

I opened to my love,
But he had turned away and was gone.
My soul fled when he spoke.

Only now do I experience the full price of my former numbness. Only now do I feel the pain of separation. Separation from Love is like separation from my own soul.

I looked for him, but could not find him,
I called, but he did not answer.

The power of my yearning begins to energize my search. Though I do not find my Beloved, I begin to find my own voice, my own passion. The silence that answers my call inspires me to call with more sweetness, more vitality.

Then the watchmen who circle the city
Found me,
They beat me, they bruised me
The watchmen of the walls
tore the shawl from my shoulders.

This is the story of awakening. I was so much more comfortable asleep. The “watchmen” represent awareness itself , which will not allow the old self and its layers of defense to survive. When they tear the shawl from my shoulder, they are stripping me of my false-self, leaving me vulnerable to the pain of loving. If I am protecting myself from that pain, the Joy of Love will also be withheld. As long as there are old habits in me that insist on going back to sleep, I will be beaten and bruised by Life’s constant changes. Only in my awakened state can I finally meet Love and become God’s powerful and passionate partner.

Swear to me, daughters of Jerusalem
If you find my beloved,
You must tell him
That I am in the fever of Love.

I call on my sisters, my friends, my spirit-buddies to witness my dilemma and hold me to my highest dream. They help me to search my own heart by reflecting back to me my predicament. Their questions help me to refine my deepest intention for love. They challenge me to live from my integrity, to walk the path of my Song.

As we prepare for Pilgrimage, become aware of the one inside you who hesitates and is afraid to answer the knock at the door to your heart.

And become aware of the one inside you who feels the Call and who is moved to step forward into the unknown.

In grateful anticipation for our journey together,
Shefa

The Call

Feast, friends, and drink till you are drunk with love!

I was asleep but my heart stayed awake. There it is… the sound of my lover knocking:

Open to me, my sister, my friend, My dove, my perfect one! My head is wet with dew, My hair drenched in the damp of night.

But I have taken off my robes, How can I dress again? I have bathed my feet, Must I dirty them?

My love reached in for the latch And deep within me, my heart stirred.

I rose to open to my love My hands dripping myrrh My fingers flowing myrrh On the doorbolt.

I opened to my love, But he had turned away and was gone. My soul fled when he spoke.

I looked for him, but could not find him, I called, but he did not answer.

Then the watchmen who circle the city Found me, They beat me, they bruised me The watchmen of the walls tore the shawl from my shoulders.

Swear to me, daughters of Jerusalem If you find my beloved, You must tell him That I am in the fever of Love.