intentions

Rabbi Ashlag as Translator

by Yedidah on November 3, 2019

Master of the Ladder by Rabbi Avraham Mordecai Gottleib
Just bound at the printers!

At long last! The printers sent me a photo of the finished book, bound and printed.  Seven years of translating, editing, and collating, had fulfilled their promise.

Finally, a biography of the great Tzaddik and Sage of our time, Rabbi Yehudah Leib Ashlag, known as “Master of the ladder”is available for the English-speaking world.  

To translate doesn’t mean just going from one language to another— there are now quite sophisticated apps that will do that, but to translate means to grasp the spirit of the work, it means to try and discover what it was that Rabbi Ashlag really wanted to say. What did he want to communicate? And what language did he use to say it with?

The first great translators of the Torah, Onkelos and Yonaton ben Uziel, who translated the Torah from its original Hebrew into Aramaic, the language spoken in daily life at the time, are widely considered the first commentators of the Torah. They were channels that brought the wisdom of the Torah to the people of their time.

In this sense, Rabbi Ashlag may also be considered a translator. He translated the language of Kabbalah— the language of Sephirot and partzufim— into ideas that can be understood by the ordinary person.   Many people mistakenly think that if you know what the Sephirot stand for and you have some knowledge of the four spiritual worlds that makes you a Kabbalist. But Rabbi Ashlag taught that the Sephirot are simply the bricks to build with, they are the consonants and the vowels of a language of feeling, of intention, and of relationships; aspects of ourselves that, in our day- to- day language, we have no words for.

It was in his seminal work on the Torah of the great sixteenth-century Kabbalist the holy Ari that Rabbi Ashlag first developed his understandings of the language of Kabbalah. Looking at life as arranged according to vertical connections between this world and the higher worlds, the Ari discerned the flow of light and vessels as a dynamic dance of giving and receiving between us and the Creator.  Thus was born a language that can describe processes that take place beyond our ordinary senses in a consciousness of the eternal present; processes in which our ordinary perceptions of time and space don’t function.

Rabbi Ashlag, in opening up the Zohar in his Perush HaSulam, the Ladder – his great commentary on the Zohar, gave us access to wisdom that helps us connect with the Creator. By giving us a language to aspects of ourselves for which we previously had no language, we can become aware of ourselves and our motives with greater ease and accuracy. We can begin to discern the murky regions of Torah shelo lishmah, Torah that is carried out with ulterior motives mixed in,  and we can begin to clarify them, bringing them into a real service of God and to our fellow human beings, springing from a true and honest place within ourselves, Torah l’shmah, Torah that we practice unconditionally, with love.

The Master of the Ladder, the Life and Teachings of Rabbi Yehudah Leib Ashlag translated by Yedidah Cohen is available from next week in Israel from www.nehorapress.com and will be available from Amazon .com in the near future.

{ 2 comments }

Jacob and Esau from the Zohar ,Perush haSulam, Rabbi Ashlag

On this week of the Parasha Toledot, we read the story of  Ya’acov and Esau. This story is such a perplexing one when we read the simple bald recital of the events as they took place  as described in Bereishit, the book of Genesis.  So many questions arise!

Ya’acov refuses to give Esau soup until he sells his birthright to him.  On the surface, this looks like a callous act, to put it mildly. Yet how can this be?  Ya’acov,  is described as a dweller of tents, meaning that he dwelt in the tent of Torah. How could he behave in this way? To get an answer to this, we need to go deeply into the reasons and intentions that lie behind the outer acts.

These we find in the  Kabbalah, which teaches us that although on the surface, it appears that Esau was  hard done by, in fact, he hid his true nature. Esau  came in from the field, exhausted, close to death because he had just murdered Nimrod, and taken his garments. These were garments that had come to Nimrod from Adam, but , unlike Adam, he used them in an evil and wrong way. Esau coveted them.

This day, Ya’acov was making lentils, because it was  a dish given to mourners, and this was the day that Avraham died.  Esau, rejected the legacy of Avraham, which was not a legacy of riches and material possessions, but a legacy of faith in God.  He despised his birthright and wanted none of the obligations and responsibilities that it invoked.

Ya’acov, by taking on the birthright, for himself and his descendants took on the faith in God, with all the responsibility that it involves, rescuing the vessels that belonged to Esau  bringing  them with him into the framework of holiness. Similarly his  action with the blessings was a work of great tikkun.

By learning the Zohar on this story our difficulties with the literal interpretation of the story melt away and we come into a deeper appreciation of the need to see the Torah, in all its aspects, the Pshat, Remez, Drash and Sod as a whole.

{ 0 comments }

Becoming Adam

by Yedidah March 27, 2016
Thumbnail image for Becoming Adam

Becoming Adam implies coming to resemble the Creator in His loving kindness and unconditional love. But how can we fully embody this? From the Kabbalah of Rabbi Baruch Shalom HaLevi Ashlag

Read the full article →

Jacob’s Intentions: A Man of Truth

by Yedidah November 17, 2015
Thumbnail image for Jacob’s Intentions: A Man of Truth

If we don’t know the intentions of the other person we can so easily misjudge their overt actions. Nowhere is this truer than in the Bible stories. Learning the literal story alone, may even lead us away from the truth revealed within it. By revealing intentions, the Kabbalah teaches us the consciousness of the Torah in a way that we can grow ourselves. Nowhere is this more poignant than in the story of Jacob and Esau.

Read the full article →