ONLY THE BEGINNING

But my fears proved unfounded—the period following the hospital was only the beginning. We began taking walks together in parks and driving to Ben Shemen¹ Forest. We talked, we shared moments of silence. Life was only just starting.

After the hospital, RABASH was very weak. He had been pumped so full of antibiotics that whenever we drove to the woods or a park, I tried to get him as close to a bench as possible.

He would get out of the car, take a few dozen steps, and that was it. “I need to lie down.”

I would put down a foam mattress, and he would lie down on it, weak like a child, and nap for an hour or more.

And I would guard his sleep. I would hang out nearby, smoking and reading the texts given to RABASH for proofreading. These were the articles of Baal HaSulam that would later compose book one of A Sage’s Fruit.²

Upon waking, I would hand RABASH hot tea or coffee from a thermos, and he would rest for some time. We didn’t talk much—I didn’t want to tire him. And then he would get to working on the texts.

THE WRITINGS OF HIS FATHER...

It was immediately obvious the trepidation with which he treated every word of his father. Any foreign interference, that is, any attempt at editing, was immediately detected.

A changed word here or an added sentence there. No, this wasn’t his father’s hand—he couldn’t have put it this way. Even then I saw the unbreakable inner bond that linked them.

Most amazing of all, he was not mistaken even once.

He told me that you couldn’t correct the writings of a Kabbalist. Even if something seems illogical to you, even if it’s a typo or some seemingly obvious error, it cannot be corrected! We do not know what is correct and what isn’t.

We are so small, our logic is so illogical from the standpoint of the higher truth that we’d best not meddle, as any correction would be a mistake. A Kabbalist knows exactly what he wants to convey. Everything penned by him is verified and not subject to any doubts.

Such was RABASH’s attitude toward the writings of his father, Baal HaSulam. (For this reason, all our publications, including those released by me and my students, all of RABASH’s and Baal HaSulam’s writings, have been preserved without any changes. For us, this is law.³)

YOU HAVE MADE ME IN BEHIND AND BEFORE

I remember reading an article by Baal HaSulam in Ben Shemen. It was the article that prefaced the book, A Sage’s Fruit, called “You Have Made Me In Behind and Before.”

RABASH read slowly, still weak and not far along the recovery process, but I saw the strength returning to him before my very eyes.

His back straightened, his eyes lit up. The very first lines of the article brought him back to life. “You Have Made Me In Behind and Before...” He felt it. It was his constant prayer.

For indeed, “His kingdom reigns over all things.” Everything shall return to its root for “there is no place empty of Him...” All this lived within him, guiding all his thoughts and actions.

This is why we always kept a copy of King David’s Psalms⁴ in the car, right alongside Shamati.⁵ Whenever he picked up the book, it automatically opened to Psalm 139. The very Psalm that became the basis of the article, “You Have Made Me In Behind and Before.”

RABASH barely even looked at these worn pages. He knew this prayer of King David by heart. Because it was his prayer, too.

“O Lord, You have searched me out and You know. You know my sitting and my rising; You understand how to attach me from afar. My going about and my lying down You encompassed, and You are accustomed to all my ways. For there is no word on my tongue; behold, O Lord, You know it all. From the rear and the front You encompassed me, and You placed Your pressure upon me... Where shall I go from Your spirit, and where shall I flee from Your presence? If I ascend to the heavens, there You are, and if I make my bed in the grave, behold, You are there. If I take up the wings of dawn, if I dwell at the end of the west, there too, Your hand will lead me, and Your right hand will grasp me. I said, ‘Darkness will darken me, and the night will be as light about me.’ Even darkness will not obscure anything from You, and the night will light up like day; as darkness so is the light.”

RIGID SCHEDULE

RABASH tied himself to the Creator as if with chains.

Virtually every night he came out for a walk at two in the morning, one hour before the lesson. He walked unhurriedly from his house at 81 Hazon Ish st. to Rabbi Akiva Street and back. He sang a little to himself, did breathing exercises, but most of all, this was his time for thinking. Lots of thinking. Two in the morning was a fine time to prepare himself properly for the lesson ahead.

The lesson began at three and typically lasted untill six in the morning.

Six to six-thirty was the prayer. Then we’d take five minutes to plan out the day, and go rest.

By nine in the morning I would be picking him up at his house, and we would drive out either to the beach, the park, the doctor, or some other meeting.

We’d come back by twelve-thirty, and I’d drive back home to eat lunch and work. I typically worked from one to four. By five I was back with RABASH for the evening lesson.

The evening lesson was from five to eight, during which we studied the articles of Baal HaSulam and The Study of the Ten Sefirot. Then, half an hour of The Zohar until eight-thirty, and another fifteen minutes for the evening prayer. Finally, at a quarter to nine, we would all head home.

Three times a week, the evening lesson was called “Shaul’s lesson.” We studied Tree of Life by the ARI. This lesson wasn’t subject to cancelation under any circumstances, even if only one person was present—that very Shaul. Typically, however, there were six or seven of us. Shaul was interested only in Tree of Life. When we’d get to the last page, RABASH would traditionally asked, “Well, Shaul, what shall we study next?” And Shaul would reply, “Let’s start from the beginning.” Unperturbed, RABASH would flip back the pages and start the book all over again...

Everything ended at 20:45. Five minutes after going up to his room, RABASH would be fast asleep.

He had this great ability not to lose a minute . And to preserve his strength. Sometimes, when he was completely exhausted, he would close his eyes and fall asleep instantly. I would wake him up exactly three minutes later, and he would be refreshed, as if waking up from a full night of sleep. “What a great nap!” And then he could teach for another 2-3 hours.

He never changed his schedule. His schedule shifted only when we were hospitalized or when we drove out to Tiberas.⁶ But that was an entirely different kind of study and a different kind of relationship.

It took me time to understand such a rigid, minute-by-minute schedule. Initially I attributed it to his personality, his hardened Jerusalem habits. It was only later that I realized how deep it actually went.

DESCENTS

This was how he brought himself out of descents. He saw them coming in advance and prepared himself, like the old man from the parable looking for what he had lost.⁷

He knew that each ascent is preceded by a descent. He knew that you’re never freely given the importance of the goal from above; just the opposite, you become totally drained of the spirit of life. You reveal the truth of your nature, forcing you to rise above it, turning your “dead” body into a living one.

It is written about this, “Do everything that is in your power to do.” The greater the person, the greater his burdening of the heart.

RABASH knew that the only salvation lay in a strict daily schedule. All the activities happened at their exact time: wake up, study, books, work (that you cannot skip, no matter what). Activities became a habit that became second nature. It was precisely his schedule that breathed life into him even during utterly lifeless states.

Such “reanimations” happened before my very eyes. Oftentimes he wouldn’t hide it from me. He wanted me to know that the same awaited me. To understand how to hold on and endure such states.

I remember him dancing in the middle of the room with a forced smile on his face. He would wheeze, “It’s time to be joyful!” and start skipping like a child, singing “La la la!” With a lesson scheduled to begin in ten minutes, it was the only way to exit his state.

I also remember him lying down on the floor, face to the wall. Such things happened, too.

He’d curl up in a fetal position, and my heart would bleed seeing him like that. But there was nothing I could do for him then.

He would lie there for several minutes, focusing with his body and internally, suspended between heaven and earth. And when he got up, he looked like a completely different person. He’d open a book and delve into the material, fully present...

A Kabbalist’s descents are deep indeed, but such descents invariably precede an ascent. He knew this. And so, he was always ready for them.

SHAMATI—I HEARD

As I drove RABASH around places, oftentimes I couldn’t resist peppering him with questions. Naturally.

And he would answer. I could see that he didn’t want me to stay silent. He liked the questions. And my questions were of the pointed kind. Is there free will? If there is none else besides the Creator, then why am I made of two forces? And so on.

And then, one time, when I was bursting with pain from neither understanding nor feeling anything, and I felt that I couldn’t go on like this any longer, he stopped me. We had just returned home, and he said to me, “Wait here, let me give you something.”

He went up to his room as I waited in the car. Upon coming back out, he held a tattered notebook that he proceeded to hand to me. The cover displayed one word: “Shamati” (I heard). “Take this and read it. These are my notes.”

I realized everything the moment I peeked into the notebook. The very first line, “There Is None Else Besides Him,” made my heart beat frantically. The beating only intensified when I finished the first paragraph. Pausing from the reading, I rushed to a store to make a copy of the entire notebook. It wasn’t until I knew that the whole copy was safely in my hands that I breathed a sigh of relief.

I didn’t go to work that day, but drove back to Rehovot and locked myself up in a room to read. “I heard on the first day of the week of Ytro (February 6, 1944 ).” Upon reading that, I realized that the notes were things RABASH had heard from what Baal HaSulam had said. And I was holding these notes in my hands.

That thought alone made me tremble inside. But what happened next, when I began to read, “It is written, ‘There is none else besides Him.’ This means that there is no other force in the world that has the power to do anything against Him...” a feeling took over me that I was revealing secrets that had been hidden from the world for centuries. That this was the very thing I had been searching for all my life—the revelation of the Creator in this world...

I continued reading. “And what man sees, that there are things in the world that deny the Higher Household, the reason is that this is His will.” I was blown away. So it’s the Creator Himself confusing the person?! “And it is deemed a correction, called ‘The left rejects and the right attracts,’ meaning that that which the left rejects is considered a correction. This means that there are things in the world, which, to begin with, aim to divert a person from the right way, and by which he is rejected from Sanctity.” Every word was a revelation, a breakthrough into a brand new, utterly unfamiliar state. A deconstruction of the self. I had never heard anything of the sort from RABASH, let alone Hillel. How could RABASH have hidden this from everyone?!

“THEY HAVE NO LEFT LINE”

I read the notebook all day and practically all night, arriving at the morning lesson with “round eyes” and brimming with excitement.

RABASH instantly realized what had happened, but didn’t say anything. I gave him back the notebook with a confession that I had copied it. He didn’t reply, so I knew I’d done the right thing.

But why had he given it to me and not to someone else? I would soon find the answer.

Several days later we were set to drive out to the beach. I sat there, waiting for RABASH, reading Shamati.

By then I couldn’t tear myself from these notes, using every available minute to dive into them. And when I read them, the outside world ceased to exist. I couldn’t hear or see anything—that was the effect they had to me. From the very start, I had felt that these notes were about me. I’d grown to feel a kinship with every line, every word.

So, as I sat there, reading and waiting for RABASH, I didn’t notice Hillel come up behind me. As he noticed RABASH’s handwriting, the man froze still, eyes fixating on the lines of text.

I turned around the moment I heard his voice, calling over Menachem. He was RABASH’s oldest student, having studied with Baal HaSulam himself. As Menachem walked over, Hillel gestured at the notebook in my hand, and asked in Yiddish.

“Have you seen these notes?”
“No, but that’s RABASH’s handwriting,” Menachem replied.
“Exactly,” Hillel said, then turned to me. “Where did you get that?”

I gave an honest, but naive answer.

“RABASH gave it to me.”
“Let’s see here,” Hillel took the notebook from me, and the two of them began leafing through it while conversing in Yiddish.

I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but they were clearly agitated. Hillel’s facial expression had completely changed, his movements growing erratic...

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed RABASH descending the stairs at a brisk pace, then heading straight for us. RABASH snatched the notebook right out of Hillel’s hands without uttering as much as a word, then grabbed me by the shoulder and led me outside. As soon as we were outside, he turned to me and asked brusquely, “Why did you show it to them?! Who asked you to do that?!”

He was saying this about the people that used to study alongside him with Baal HaSulam!

I offered a ginger reply.

“Hillel took it himself. He recognized your handwriting.”
“Remember, I gave it to you alone,” RABASH said sharply. “So keep it to yourself! Hide it and don’t show it to anyone!”

“I didn’t know,” I said.

At the same time, I felt a swelling pride that he had given the notebook to me alone! Not to them, but to me! And yet, I couldn’t hold back my curiosity.

“Why can’t I show it to them?”
“Because they have no left line,” RABASH replied. “Which means these articles aren’t for them.”

The answer excited me, because I realized logically that these notes were for people like me. That was why RABASH had given them to me. And that meant that Baal HaSulam had intended them for people like me... So what was so special about us? How were we so different? How was I so different?! What was it about me?!

THEY WILL NOT HEAR IT!

Several months passed before I realized what RABASH had meant by them “having no left line.” I understood then why he had shown these articles to me—someone who didn’t believe in anything, brimming with questions, and perpetually dissatisfied with himself and with the Creator.

Specifically, an excerpt from the first article, “There Is None Else Besides Him,” suddenly dawned on me with particular clarity.

“Rather, for those people who truly want to draw near the Creator, and so they are not content with little, meaning remain as senseless children, he is therefore given help from above, so he will not be able to say that ‘Thank God, I have Torah and Mitzvot [commandments] and good deeds, and what else do I need?’ And only if that person has a true desire will he receive help from above. And he is constantly shown how he is at fault in his present state. Namely, he is sent thoughts and views, which are against the work. This is in order for him to see that he is not one with the Creator. And as much as he overcomes, he always sees how he is further apart from holiness than others, who feel that they are one with the Creator.”

As I read it, every line and every word was a revelation of RABASH’s greatness for writing down these priceless gems from Baal HaSulam! After all, he was the only one who did it! Just try to imagine the spiritual strength required to hear these things from his father, to feel their depth, remember everything (for Baal HaSulam did not allow any note-taking at his lessons), and then write them down word for word in his notebook. And sometimes this meant writing not a dozen words, not even a hundred, but a thousand!

And I had no doubt that he had indeed remembered everything word for word.

For the two of them had been close more than just as father and son, but as two rungs of a spiritual ladder, with one relaying to the other things unheard by any of his other students. And those other students couldn’t possibly hear them because as RABASH had said, they did not have a left line. They didn’t have doubts. If they were to ask themselves, “Do I have love for the Creator?”, they wouldn’t hesitate to answer, “Of course, I do!”

RABASH spoke of such people as existing 100% in love for themselves while still talking about love for the Creator. Meaning they had nothing to correct. They had no left line. It wasn’t them that Baal HaSulam had addressed in his speeches. Shamati wasn’t meant for them—they had no capacity to hear him.

PRAYER

“If you have no left line, you cannot have a true prayer,” RABASH would say. “The middle line isn’t born simply from joining the left and the right lines. You need the upper light, which comes in response to a prayer.”

And that is what each article in Shamati constitutes, a prayer.

For this reason, RABASH never parted with his blue notebook. It was always with him, wherever he went. Always there on his bedside table. I would see him snatch it from there, open to a random page, read a few lines and freeze still, as if listening.

It was a part of him. It was his heart, his soul. It was his unbreakable bond with his father, and through him, with the entire chain of the great kabbalists of the past.

So when he handed it to me one late night in 1991 while lying in a hospital bed with the words, “Take it and study with it,” I realized that something terrible was going to happen.

In giving it to me, he was parting with it for good. He wasn’t long for this world.

A BOOK OF MAGIC

I will fast-forward a few years to complete this chapter on Shamati. After RABASH had passed, leaving the notebook to me, a great fear took over me. Here was this priceless treasure that was so essential to the world, yet kept entirely secret?!

Doubts gnawed at me until I finally resolved that I couldn’t hide it any longer. The world had to start changing!

RABASH so badly wanted for the wisdom of Kabbalah to be revealed to the world, for people to start studying it from the articles of Baal HaSulam. It was that desire of his that drove my conviction to publish it without altering so much as a letter.

These articles are light without a vessel. They contain the revelations and attainments of Baal HaSulam, allowing the reader to see these articles anew each time.

Every time a person reads one of these articles, it feels different from the same article he’d read before. The text awakens and changes the reader, suddenly revealing new layers within him, and he begins to feel and think differently, both in the heart and in the mind. He becomes a brand-new person. This magical book draws the upper light that changes the reader. The book effectuates these changes. It builds the soul for the revelation of spirituality, in which the person begins to sense the upper reality.

ALL ABOUT ME

And so, just like RABASH, I clung to this book as if to a life spring. That was precisely what I felt it was: a source of life!

I counted minutes until I could get back to it. I realized that only this book could properly prepare me for sleep, as well as for the morning lesson. I would wake up at two in the morning, reach for it on the bedside table, read only a few lines, and only then get up and begin my morning routine. Meanwhile, it already lived within me, rousing me, raising questions just as it asserted, “There is none else besides Him...” And with those thoughts, I would sit and begin to read.

I would light a cigarette in the kitchen as the coffee brewed, with one full hour to go until the morning lesson. This was the hour of Shamati.

And I would read: 

"1. Believing that He can save him. Although he has the worst conditions of all his contemporaries…

2. …he has already done all that he could but saw no cure to his plight.

3. If He does not help him, he will be better off dead than alive.”⁸

Night reigned outside. The house was steeped in silence, broken only by the barely audible ticking of the clock as I whispered the lines from Shamati and felt them permeate me: Oh, what great power was contained in these lines!!! What immeasurable pain and desire! How badly I wanted for this prayer for salvation to become my prayer!

Once, after already moving to Bnei Brak, RABASH was taking a walk outside before the lesson and saw a light in my window. He waited for me to come out, then took me by the hand, and asked, “Why do you get up so early?” “I read Shamati to prepare for the lesson,” I replied.

I remember the look he gave me then. I remember us walking in silence through the streets of Bnei Brak at night, and how he squeezed my arm, as if making a covenant with me. I will never forget that moment—to this day I feel this blessing of his.

That moment marked the breakdown of yet another barrier between us. It was Shamati that had brought us even closer.

RABASH sensed that these notes of his were just as important to me as they were to him, that they were the foundation upon which I was building my entire inner work, that I didn’t want any other life, but only this one, side by side with him...

And he began to treat me as more than just a student, but also as a friend, a son. On numerous occasions he would say to me, “You and I are friends. Two can be many, and the two of us are already a group.”

And with each passing year, I would learn more and more what RABASH thought of me...

I DISCOVER MYSELF

Several years ago, my student Doron Goldin and I went to sit Shiva⁹ with a close friend of mine, Jeremy Langford, another former disciple of RABASH. He had lost his wife Yael, whom I knew very well. There I saw Shimon Itakh, Yael’s brother. At twenty years of age, Shimon had been the youngest person in our group.

As we sat there, talking, Itakh recalled something.

“You know, I remember an incident I’d never brought up with you before. Once, you got into an argument with RABASH and didn’t drive to the beach with him.”
“Yeah, that actually happened on a few occasions,” I replied.
“Anyway, I went with him instead,” Itakh continued. “And as we stood there on the shore, about to go into the water, I asked him, ‘Rebbe, what is it with you and Michael? You should leave him. Why are you always with him?’ And do you know what he answered me? He said, ‘Because Michael has a special soul. In him lives a very powerful point of truth. That is why I study with him.’”

I sat there in silence, speechless. I suddenly felt as if I were sitting across from RABASH. As if he were right there before me, and, as usual, I was hanging on to his every word. I realized that RABASH hadn’t meant that my soul was somehow great, but that I’d had a truly burning desire to reveal the truth, and pain from not having yet revealed it. And I understood perfectly clearly that all that was required of me was to hang on with my heart (precisely my heart!) to this great Kabbalist,

and to thank my fate and the Creator for having drawn this golden ticket, this tremendous fortune, of being next to RABASH. And I will never tire of repeating it.