This week’s parsha includes birkat kohanim, the priestly blessing. I want to focus on the last phrase of that blessing – veyasem likha shalom. May God grant you peace (Numbers 6:26).
A Blanket Placed Upon Us
How do we access this peace? The word here is veyasem, from sim, to place or to put; God is gently setting it upon us. We also say in davening hapores sukat shalom aleinu, that God spreads a canopy of peace over us. I picture it as a soft blanket slowly descending upon us, a blanket woven of clouds from above; oseh shalom bimromav, God makes shalom up in the heavens, as if that is where it is manufactured, this substance, this blanket, woven out of threads of airy clouds and divine presence and unshakable peace, this blanket of shalom that is placed upon us.
Taking a step back to notice how very unpeaceful we tend to be, the anxious thoughts and worries and conflicts, the tension and restlessness, the general state of unease. It is into this body that God’s blanket of peace descends, ignoring all the storylines and noise behind the distress, and entering anyway, slowly spreading itself over you, a blanket of calm and quiet. It does not enter into dialogue with the turmoil, giving an opinion, offering reassurance, or attempting to resolve the tension. It has no words. It simply lies there peacefully, a substance woven out of threads from a different world.
Garden of Eden
From another plane. The first time the root sim, to put, is used in the Torah it refers to God’s placement of the first human in the Garden of Eden, vayasem sham et ha’adam (Genesis 2:8). That is what it is like for us when we receive shalom. It’s like we are being placed back in the Garden of Eden again for a moment, returning to that original experience of peace, with no worries and an intense connection to God that makes us feel secure and calm. It is like shabbat, a taste of another world.
What It Feels Like
This otherworldly shalom substance, it is so soft and gentle and slow. It doesn’t rush in or break the door down or stomp about with loud boots, announcing itself. It is set down lovingly upon us, like you might place a blanket upon a sleeping child, being careful not to disturb them. Maybe feeling it come down upon you right now, like a soft glowing light, this quiet divine blanket of peace; maybe it starts at the top of your head and slowly makes its way down through your body, gradually seeping into all your bones and cells and ligaments, not attacking the places of tension and forcing them to relax, but just touching them lightly with that warm light, offering them a soothing comforting presence, offering them this other relaxing energy to take in when they are ready. It’s ok, shalom says to the worrying, looping parts. It’s ok. I know you’re upset. No more words or stories right now. Hush. Shh. Shalom starts with “sh” for a reason. Shhh. Quiet now.
Dropping all the stories and arguments and complex thoughts of past and future. In the face of this shalom energy, this present moment of peace, all of that fades, as if muffled by the blanket that covers you. Maybe it’s still going on, trouble, problem, fix, control, plan, must make it right, blah, blah, blah. Maybe it’s still going on, but it’s lost its urgency, its intensity before the awesome power of this calm quiet that descends upon you from above. Without any effort or conflict, the quiet overcomes the noise, the slow overcomes the fast, the soft overcomes the hard (Tao Te Ching, #36, trans. by Stephen Miller). It may seem surprising, but that is the truth, the truth about the incredible power of shalom. Shalom is not mushy or insubstantial. It has great power. It is just subtle quiet power, like God, understated but very much present.
Story: Hillel and the Pesky Man
I am reminded of a famous story about Hillel (Shabbat 31a). Once a man made a wager of 400 zuz that he could get Hillel angry. He went to Hillel’s house on Friday afternoon while Hillel was bathing and called out: who here is Hillel, who here is Hillel. Hillel wrapped himself up (nitatef), came out and sat down with the man and said – beni, my son, what do you seek? The man asked him a ridiculous question about the heads of Babylonians. Hillel calmly answered him and went back to his bath. The man returned a little while later and did the same thing with another arcane question, and a third time again. Each time, Hillel wrapped himself up and came out to sit with the man and patiently answer his questions, until finally the man got frustrated and said – I lost 400 zuz because of you! Hillel said: better that you lose 400 zuz and I do not lose my calm.
How We Meet Those Parts In Us
That man with the wager and all of his pestering questions – we have those parts inside us. They are so restless and insistent, like little children, ever coming up with new demands, new things for us to worry about and solve, once one thing is resolved, there is always the next one. Our instinct is to meet their energy in kind, to meet anxiety with anxiety, restlessness with restlessness, urgency with urgency, to fall into their sense of panic in our desperate attempt to get rid of them. But see how Hillel meets this man with a different energy, with the opposing energy of calm, of patience, of shalom. He wraps himself in it, in that blanket of peace, and offers that to the nagging man. He sits down with him on Erev Shabbat, on Friday afternoon, the busiest time of the week, he sits down with him as if he has all the time in the world. Can you feel the quality of that inner peace in Hillel? The strength of it, the power of it, the contrast of it, how it is slow meeting fast, patience meeting urgency, soft meeting hard, peace meeting aggression. See how Hillel’s unshakable calm melts the other, softens the other, holds and cares for the other in kindness. My son, he says, it’s ok. There is indeed a force that is bigger than all of this anxiety and restlessness. Feel into in me. It will hold you and soothe you. It is bigger than your money concerns. It matters more than all of that and can withstand it all. Rest in it. Shhh, he says. Rest in shalom.
Our Embattlement
Maybe checking in with yourself about how you normally meet the parts of you that you consider to be like this man, annoying you or disturbing your peace. How do you meet your anxiety, your despair, your fear, your aggression, your anger, your exhaustion, your pain, your loneliness, your grief, your sadness? Maybe one of those is knocking on your door right now, just when you were finally settling into a nice relaxing bath. How do you meet it? Most of us have a habitual tendency to become embattled with these feelings. We try to get rid of them, to minimize them, to control them, to manage them, to fix them, to force them to relax and be different, to be better. I invite you to really see how much aggression there is in all of that, so much aggression in our process, even this process of “healing.” It’s like we are taking a hammer to ourselves sometimes, trying to beat down what we don’t like. You’re bad. Stop doing that, we are saying to those parts. Can you feel that aggression in you?
A Different Way
Hillel models for us a different way of being with those parts and a different way of understanding what inner peace is. He carries his inner peace with him from the bathtub and offers it to the frustrated man at his door. He does not consider the man to be an obstacle to his peace, because his peace is not shakable, nor is it meant to be enjoyed alone. If we imagine ourselves in that state of peace, with that blanket of divine shalom wrapped around us, seeping into us, how would we meet those parts? Can you feel the tenderness, the calm, the patience, the gentleness, the acceptance we might offer?
Acceptance
One of the most essential characteristics of this shalom way of meeting is acceptance, radical acceptance of people and things as they are. That is peace, not trying to change it, but being shalem with it, accepting what is, accepting how we are, accepting what we are feeling, meeting ourselves and each other exactly as we are. Maybe asking yourself right now – what is it that I have been resisting feeling? What have I been pushing away inside me? What am I fighting? This is a great practice to do regularly because so much of the time, we are embattled internally without even realizing it. Whatever it is, we can practice turning towards it from this spacious shalom energy and saying – I accept what is here. You, my despair, my anger, my aggression, my restlessness, you are not a problem. You can be here. I am at peace with you. And if there is resistance to doing that, then accepting the resistance. We can always make the circle larger to include what is here, to accept that, too, and that, too. I might be filled with tension and anger and aggression, but when I stop fighting it and accept it, then peace arises spontaneously in me, the peace of accepting what is here.
Dropping the Rope
It’s like we are engaged in an endless tug of war with our difficult emotions, and this divine shalom energy invites us to try a different approach. Shalom invites us to drop our end of the rope in that tug of war and instead offer a hand in kindness and friendship and acceptance. Come, I’ll walk with you as you are, it says. You don’t need to change a thing. Can you feel what happens inside when you do that? When you drop the rope of conflict, when you stop trying to change and fix, when you accept and walk with? There is a relaxing in the body, a relief, a calming. The war is off. It’s ok to be as we are. It’s ok that you are scared right now, shalom says. That’s your truth in this moment. I’ll walk with you for a while until it passes. It’s ok. Shh. Let’s just be together now.
Put Your Hand In Mine
I keep coming back in my head to this Israeli folksong I grew up with. Simi yadekh beyadi. Put your hand in my hand. Simi, to put or to place, like veyasem likha shalom. Put your hand in mine. What if instead of a tug of war we walk hand in hand with what is suffering inside? Simi yadekh beyadi, ani shelakh ve’at sheli. Put your hand in my hand. I am yours and you are mine. That’s what peace can do, bring us back together with the ones standing outside our door, accepting them, claiming them, reconnecting, becoming whole, shalem. And the end of the song – Hey, hey Galiya, bat harim yefehfiyah. Hey, hey, Galiya. Daughter of the hills, oh pretty one. It’s like we are skipping off together now, hand in hand, me and my little anxious one, and look at what happens, instead of perceiving her as a pest, she suddenly becomes for me a beautiful wild daughter of the hills. It is our loving acceptance that transforms her back into her essence, not by force or aggression or effort, but just through shalom, total acceptance, put your hand in mine as you are and we’ll walk together. That’s what does the work. Maybe sensing her here with you now, your own wild beautiful sweet little one holding your hand. That’s what inner peace brings.
Where do we skip off to together? Maybe back to Gan Eden for a few minutes, back to a sense of divine connection and peace. That’s where God originally placed us and where I believe God continues to want to bring us, to draw us towards. Letting yourself sit there for a moment longer, feeling the blanket all around you, the warmth seeping in, resting in the garden of peace, resting in shalom.
