WE ARE A GROUP

My always being with RABASH could not but affect my relationships with the friends. They simply couldn’t accept it. I spoke about it with my teacher, but he had his own views on the matter. His answer to me was simple, “You must be by my side.”

Then Passover came around, an uncompromising holiday for RABASH that he had always spent alone, not allowing anyone else near him. And everybody knew this.

And suddenly he took me with him to a wastelot to burn leavened foods.¹

(The same would happen all the years that followed. Sometimes his son Yehezkel would join us, but most of the time we’d be alone.)

I stood still next to him as the fire raged, basking in the great honor. Every movement of RABASH’s came with tremendous inner pressure! This ostensibly simple action of burning leavened bread—an external action to the majority of people—to him meant the burning of his ego, his entire life that wasn’t aimed at the Creator. And the very holiday of “Passover” meant detachment from the earth, an escape into a higher dimension—yet another spiritual degree to which to ascend and master in a merciless struggle with the self.

I kept silent, breath bated lest I disturbed RABASH, though a question tore at me from within. The very same question. And I threw it at him as soon as it all ended, unable to restrain myself. “When am I going to attain it in practice?! When will I not simply be burning a hunk of bread, but ridding myself of this mortal enemy, this pride and self-love? When?!”

RABASH didn’t reply to this primal cry of my soul. Instead, he looked at me almost with a chuckle, and I felt a storm of indignation rising within! Here I was, on the edge of tears, crying out to him from the bottom of my heart, and he...

It wouldn’t take long for me to realize that he had been right, as usual. That it was precisely me he’d been thinking of, wishing for this outcry of mine to become a prayer.

PASSOVER A LA RABASH

Afterwards RABASH invited me to dinner, and I saw firsthand the meaning of Passover a la Baal HaSulam and RABASH. This was something no logic could explain. Pots, plates, glasses, spoons, forks—all these were either brand new or used only once, then put aside and washed only after the end of Passover. Faucets, meat grinders and all other iron appliances were replaced. The food was extremely simple and limited. The only salt used had been brought over from the Dead Sea, and from the same place that had delivered to Baal HaSulam. And no plastics of any kind, though plastic materials were already ubiquitous.

During Passover, RABASH was “untouchable.” He would put up an exclusion zone around himself, like a mine field that nobody could traverse. I sat across from him, afraid to make any wrong movement, eating carefully, like a bird, keeping my hands off the table and barely touching my fork to the food.

Of course, through it all I was plagued by doubts. “Is the external observance of the holiday really so important? Why invest so much time and money into it? And, most of all, what does it matter to a Kabbalist who despises all externalities?”

I was young and egoistic, so I felt a lot of inner resistance towards all this. And that was precisely why the answer I would eventually get ended up convincing me. “When you perform all these actions, you feel how your ego rebels against them.” And I felt that in spades! As for Passover, it symbolizes rising above one’s ego, which marks the start of one’s spiritual ascent. On this path, each and every action involves one simple operation: separating the ego from yourself, tearing it out with flesh.

It was yet another reminder that I needed to follow RABASH in every way. I needed to be like him, observing these illogical actions above all earthly logic, imposing on them a spiritual intention, like he was.

COFFEE BEAN

You keep your focus for a while, washing yourself with thoughts that all things in our world are but branches of spiritual roots, but even those are already related to egoistic desires. And that is why they must be fully severed during Passover... And so you “sever” them by sitting there and sorting coffee beans.

We would buy green coffee and sort the beans, watching for any impurities or bugs. Then we would roast and grind the beans, and only afterwards we would drink the coffee. Imagine sitting there, sorting all those beans for hours on end… Until you realize you’ve had enough.

My breaking point came during one such sorting session. I fell back in the chair and glowered at the heap of unchecked beans, chain-smoking and cursing the absurdity of it all. And then RABASH came over, sat across from me, picked up one bean to eye level and said, “I sit here and I check beans, these tiny coffee beans. I check them very, very carefully! I want them to be pure and good, so that they could be made into coffee for my friends to enjoy.” He put the bean aside and picked up another one. “And this bean I check for my teacher,” he looked at me, “because my teacher loves coffee. I am doing this for him.”

That was a harsh, harsh lesson for me. What did I feel? Shame. My insides were burning with shame! RABASH stood up and walked away.

I flung myself back to the beans. RABASH’s words echoed within me.

But even that lasted only a few minutes.

The shock wore off, and once again I couldn’t bring myself to continue!

I felt insurmountable disturbances.

If you had told my former self, the immigrant just coming into the country, “Sort these beans and you will make money,” I would have agreed. And I would have done it well.

But here, with the goal being to serve my teacher, whom I regarded as great, the greatest!... I just sat there, unable to move a finger.

And I realized that the disturbances that had just been activated weren’t of this world.

OH, HOW HARD IT WAS!

Being next to a Kabbalist is very, very hard.

Being a student, and an assistant, and studying with him, and tending to him... At times it was unbearably difficult. You are always with him, seeing him in all his manifestations, until the corporeal picture begins to extinguish his greatness, and you start seeing him as a regular person with his own demands, habits and weaknesses, just like everyone else. And you just can’t shake the treacherous thought, what makes him any different from others? I remember the immense efforts it took to persevere and maintain that I was standing before a great Kabbalist, “the last of the Mohicans,” the last of his kind.

RABASH was exceptionally simple and open when it came to anything corporeal.

He left no opening to anyone around him to give him any sort of deference. He didn’t play the role of ADMOR² tasked with drawing and leading a large following, to be doted on and venerated by society. RABASH hated all that, and his behavior was the exact opposite of what you would expect.

THE “INSIGNIFICANCE” OF A KABBALIST

As any Kabbalist, he sensed his own insignificance. “Who am I? What have I got?” That is what he showed to others.

He compared himself to the Creator, so his self-view was along the lines of, “I am nothing, just ash and dust.” And that attitude rubbed off on those around him.

This was intentional on his part—he deliberately put up this external emptiness, because he truly felt like it. While in constant contact with the mighty governing force—he called this “standing before the Creator”—he revealed eternity and perfection. And he couldn’t help but feel insignificant compared to it.

When I asked him about it, he would say, “Now imagine how difficult it was for me to be next to my father...”

Indeed, that was his father.

At least in my case he wasn’t family, but a stranger. You can try building a certain special relationship with a stranger, but with a father? You feel his love, a father’s unconditional love for his son, and it strips away all your strength to do anything. After all, whatever you might do, he’s still going to love you. In so doing, he deprives you of the obligation to relate to him in any special manner.

HE SAPS MY STRENGTH

RABASH would constantly push me off, sapping my strength to relate to him as if to someone special. On the one hand, he brought me closer, as the upper one does to a lower one. He began caring for me like a baby, raising me. On the other hand, he guided me through states that seemed ruthless to me at the time. I didn’t understand it, rebelling against him on the inside, but in response he’d look at me and say, “I realize that I am to blame for all of your life’s woes.”

As Rabbanit Feyga would later reveal,³ he had told her that he knew all about me in advance. He knew that I wouldn’t rest until I brought Kabbalah out of our study hall and into the world.

That was what he had wanted. It was what he had raised me for.

It was for this reason that he taught me to walk without using his strength, his greatness as a crutch. By showing me his smallness, down to arousing my disdain. And all that to direct me to the Creator. So that I would demand strength from Him.

WHY DIDN’T YOU ASK?!

On one occasion, we were in the woods of Ben Shemen, and I was pissed off at something, everything! So I started complaining without holding back that everything and everyone was terrible, that I wasn’t advancing, that all my energy was being wasted...

RABASH didn’t interrupt, but heard me out in full. When I finished at last, he suddenly said, “Why didn’t you ask?”

That stunned me. I suddenly realized that, while I’d been full of rage, my request—not even a request, but a demand—was for everyone around me to change. Everyone but me.

“Why didn’t you ask?” It was such a natural question for him. Why doesn’t the person ask for correction? His own correction rather than that of everyone else? Correction of the ego that’s devouring him? He yells and steams and kicks up a fuss... but he doesn’t ask. And he doesn’t realize that this is where the answer lies: to come to feel that the true enemy—the only one he should be fighting—is within. At the same time, “There is none else besides Him,” meaning only a plea to the Creator can help. Only this plea must come from the heart and not some memorized text from a prayerbook. No, it must come from a broken heart.

I saw how RABASH did this. He did it all the time.

RABASH AND KOTSK

That is why I do not doubt RABASH’s words that had he been born earlier, he would have moved to Kotsk to study with Rabbi Menachem Mendel.⁴

That group of Kabbalists suited him. It suited his stern personality, huge heart and vast screen. He would have fit into that group like nobody else. A man who lived for the sake of the Goal, measuring himself relative to the goal and nothing else.

Kotsk was for him. A daring Kabbalistic group that had gathered everyone who wanted to “take the Creator by storm.” They lived as a commune, perpetually hungry, living each day as if it were their last. They treated each other harshly, each deliberately showing his ostensible disdain for spirituality to give the rest room for greater work. It was those kinds of daring souls that RABASH sought.

Equally suited to RABASH was a quote by their teacher, Rabbi Menachem Mendel: “There is nothing more complete than a broken heart; no cry more penetrating than silence.”

That was how RABASH meant to live. Moreover, that was how he lived.

Yet, at other times, silence would reign...

SILENCE

All of a sudden, RABASH would shut down.

Looking at him from aside, I couldn’t fathom how such a shutdown was possible. Just a moment ago he was running, attacking without sparing himself, and then—silence. In an instant he’d become nothing, a nobody.

A certain period of development would come to an end, and he would come to a standstill. He wouldn’t want to read anything, hear or see anything... And this state could last for several hours.

I remember coming over to RABASH’s house and seeing him straddling a chair, his back to the sun, perfectly still. The sight of him frightened me. As I walked over carefully, he looked up at me and said, “Take a chair.” I took a chair. “Sit.” I sat down. “Let’s sit.”

We sat there for ten minutes, then fifteen minutes. He was silent, and so was I. What now? I kept thinking, but not daring to ask.

Cigarettes came to our rescue. Once you start smoking, everything feels a little bit different. Now you’re playing with the cigarette, inhaling and exhaling. So we sat there, smoking in silence for probably a full hour.

I realized that in these kinds of states, the key is to lay low and wait them out.

I observed RABASH doing this. After all, it’s not the body or the person we’re dealing with here, but with desire. And this desire must be processed to the fullest extent. That is, when you reach a state that’s on the level of inanimate matter, becoming one with the earth, ground into the rock. completely empty, you hole up and wait... Until a new desire breaks through, like a bud sprouting out of the earth. Then you can breathe again, get up and continue attacking the Creator.

Until then, we just sat there, smoking one cigarette after another. Eventually, he reached for the bedside table, took his blue notebook, opened it to a random page and read: “One has no right to free himself of this work, but must achieve an inner demand and yearning for Lishma,⁵ which would become a prayer, for it cannot be attained but through prayer.”

BEFORE THE BREAKTHROUGH

And now I will talk about perhaps the most important event in RABASH’s life. I’d been with him for a few years by then, when suddenly I sensed that he was feeling down. Our group was small: six old men and a couple of young ones. We had been steeping in our own juices for so long, and badly needed an injection of new blood. Yet, nobody was coming.

On numerous occasions he had told me that Baal HaSulam was willing to speak to rocks, so eager was he to be heard by someone, anyone. And now, years later, RABASH had taken up the mantle, but what was the result?! The same half-dozen old students and a couple of young ones. No one else. Would it ever change?

No Kabbalist can ever know exactly when the masses will come. And not just old people, but the young ones. A Kabbalist can determine a trend. He knows exactly what’s going to happen: that Kabbalah is going to be revealed in the world. But when? Perhaps it won’t be for a long time, not until after his death...

In that period especially I tried not to leave him alone, as I felt that he needed me. On numerous occasions he would indicate to me, “It’s important that I know that you’re near me.” Oftentimes, during large gatherings and celebrations, with hundreds of Hassidic relatives around him, I watched him searching for me in the crowd, and relaxing upon finding me.

Once I even dared to ask him whether my feeling was right, that he wanted to see and confirm that I was there? “Yes, it is important that I see you,” he replied, then added. “Ever since the hospital, it’s important to me that you’re near.”

WE GROW EVEN CLOSER

Eventually, he told me to move. He hadn’t allowed it before. I had been living in Rehovot, constantly driving between there and Bnei Brak, back and forth. Often, I would stay and sleep in the study hall, especially on days when we attended some evening event. If we got back at eleven, I might not get back home until midnight. And at two a.m. I’d need to get up again and drive to make it to the lesson at three. There would be no sense in driving home so I’d stay and sleep on a bench. This went on for a few years. Even my wife had come around to the idea, seeing how much time I spent on the road. I was physically exhausted, yet still RABASH would deny me. “Not yet,” he would say. He wanted me to make efforts. In his youth, he worked hard laying highways and laboring on construction sites, and studying at night. All his life he pushed himself to the limit in everything—and he demanded the same of me.

At long last, he agreed. “The time has come.”

Not only did he agree—he took it upon himself to find me an apartment not far from him, on 5 Rav Ami Street.

I’d had a profitable business that I gave up completely to ensure I left no ties at all, sold our penthouse apartment in Rehovot, and moved. To this day I remember making this decision to take nothing with me from my past life, nothing that might distract me from the goal.

I burned bridges because I realized that I was being given a chance, just one chance, and I couldn’t miss it. The chance to be near a great Kabbalist, to cling to him, to live his life.

I never regretted this decision, not even for a second. It allowed me to grow even closer to RABASH, and that is not something any money can buy. I also bought a new car that he’d be more comfortable in, with a high seat, a cupholder and space to store a book.

He knew that I was doing it all for him, and he knew my reasons. I yearned for this adhesion with him so that even a few drops would seep to me: from his great soul into my infant one. I so badly wanted to learn to bestow like him. I was envious of him, begging and pleading for him to help me.

I dreamt this scene many times: the two of us, together, alone in nature, in all the worlds, internally linked, united, secluded from everyone else...

But I digress. Let me get back to the “unexpected” event that would go on to upend our lives.

MY PROPOSAL TO BERG

Right around the start of the holiday of Sukkot, I was notified that Rav Berg had come from the U.S., and that he wanted to meet with me in his Sukkah.

I knew Berg, having taken a few lessons with him before finding RABASH.

When I first met him, he was already “on the rise.” In the end, his desire to make Kabbalah into a business had triumphed—this I had realized by our third lesson when Berg began talking about “cosmic forces,” about the right and left hands of man, and how to cleanse them with the light of mercy... I hadn’t been seeking mysticism or anything supernatural, and I wouldn’t bear it. So I left.

Still, Berg and I had parted on friendly terms. He had even visited me in Rehovot for Shabbat. He understood that I had a completely different approach to Kabbalah, that I was looking for science, not mysticism. And he respected it.

So when I got the phone call and the invitation, I consulted with RABASH about what to do. “Why not go?” RABASH said. “I’m not really the same person I was then,” I replied. “Still,” RABASH said, “It would be rude to refuse.”

It was as if he had sensed that something would happen as a result. So I went.

I went to Berg and we got to talking. Naturally, I immediately told him I was studying with RABASH, the eldest son of Baal HaSulam.

I still remember thinking that I might try to persuade Berg, still nursing a hope that I could touch his “point in the heart,” which he clearly had. But I failed—he didn’t react at all. “We have our own system, our own method,” he said. “Still, you can expand this system,” I proposed. “I could share with your instructors what I’ve learned from RABASH. For example, I could give classes on The Preface to the Wisdom of Kabbalah.” This intrigued him. “Let’s do it,” he unexpectedly agreed.

Looking back, I’m certain that Berg understood that that was precisely what was missing. He wanted his instructors to get a feeling for authentic Kabbalah as taught by Baal HaSulam.

RABASH GETS ACTIVATED

When I told RABASH, he became anxious.

That was when I saw yet again what it meant to be a true Student of Baal HaSulam. For both of them, any opportunity to disseminate the wisdom was a celebration, a gift of the highest order, a chance from heaven that mustn’t be missed. RABASH was prepared to go over every lesson and answer any question. He would later call me at Berg’s center, in the middle of the lecture, to ask, “Well, how is it going? Are they listening? Are they grasping it? Did you already get to the second restriction? Did they understand everything?”

In short, I started teaching right after the holidays, in the morning. My students were the very instructors of Berg’s Kabbalah Center, maybe 12-14 of them. Three of them I had met before: Jeremy Langfort, Yossi Gimpel and Shmuel Cohen. They were all young men around thirty, full of energy and desire. As I had promised Berg, we began with The Preface to the Wisdom of Kabbalah. When I saw that these guys were serious and longing for the truth, I brought out Shamati and we began talking “heart to heart.”

That seemed to really ignite them, as this was unlike anything they had ever heard. At first, they sat in silence, but then they began asking questions, all of them on point.

Immediately after the lessons, I would return to RABASH and report, down to the last detail.

Oh, how joyful he was that Kabbalah was expanding outside our smoke-filled room and into the public! It wasn’t his intention to lure anyone over. There was no insidious plan. He didn’t wonder whether these young guys would suddenly leave everything and come to study with him. All he cared about was that they were listening! Asking questions! Trying to understand!

IT JUST HAPPENED...

I taught in exact accordance with RABASH. Each lesson revealed something new to them. And the number of students kept growing—towards the end we had around forty. All of the extras, all of the husks, disappeared from view, leaving only Kabbalah, the way it really is. Free from mysticism, red strings, holy water and “cosmic forces.” A serious science, the kind they hadn’t known before. And that led to a downturn in spirits as they realized they had been wasting their lives.

The nail in the coffin came courtesy of Baal HaSulam’s Letter No. 17.⁶

It begins sharply: “One who begins to walk in the beginning of the line needs great care so as not to deviate to the right or to the left of the line even as much as a hairsbreadth, for if at first the deviation is as a hairsbreadth, even if one continues completely straight, it is certain that he will no longer come to the King’s palace, as he is not stepping on the true line...”

The guys had a true desire, so they started getting nervous. They realized at once the depth behind every word.

We continued studying the letter further, line by line. I saw their concentrated faces—they weren’t missing a single word. I read the rest of the letter without any explanation as it wasn’t necessary: “This is the meaning of ‘Open for me one aperture of repentance, such as the tip of a needle, and I will open for you gates where carts and coaches enter.’ Interpretation: The eye of the needle is not for entry and exit, but to insert the thread for sewing and for work. Similarly, you are to crave only the commandment of your Master, to work, and then I will open for you a door such as an entry to a hall. This is the meaning of the explicit name in the verse, ‘But indeed (spelled like Hall in Hebrew) I live, and the glory of the Lord shall fill all the earth.’”

I finished. Everyone was quiet, not asking any questions. I bid them goodbye and left. That very evening, Jeremy Langfort, one of Berg’s senior instructors, came over to my house. As it turned out, he came to negotiate. He asked if RABASH would accept him as a student. “Why wouldn’t he? You’re married, you have a job. I’m sure he will,” I replied. “In that case, I’m going to start coming to study with you.”

REVOLUTION

Jeremy opened the floodgates. Slowly but surely, other instructors from Berg’s center followed, and then students.

I had already mentioned that it wasn’t at all RABASH’s goal to “steal” any of Berg’s students; he simply wanted to tell them about the real wisdom of Kabbalah. And he was constantly steering me toward it. As for the rest, it just happened. Truthfully, a true seeker simply wouldn’t let such an opportunity pass. He would want to reveal Kabbalah for himself. And I have nothing but respect and praise for those young men. They were indeed true seekers.

Their crossover was happening every day. A door would open during the morning lesson and I would be called outside. There I would see these young men that looked so out of place in Bnei Brak: long-haired and dressed after Tel-Aviv’s [secular, bohemian] fashion. “We want to study here. May we?” they would ask. “I’ll find out,” I would answer.

Of course, RABASH accepted everyone. Roughly forty people in all. This was a revolution for our small group.