Jewish Detachment
Dear friends,
Non-Attachment is generally considered a Buddhist notion. Jews tend to attach themselves to creatures and objects, then cling to them, and if possible, eat them. That’s why it was surprising to me to discover that several different important medieval Jewish thinkers espoused the aspiration toward what they called “Prishut.” It was even more surprising to discover that when looked at closely, prishut should not be translated, as it often is, as abstinence, but as detachment.
The book I’ve been studying, Hamaspik Le’ovdey Hashem, strangely translated as The Guide to Serving God was written in Judeo-Arabic in Egypt in the year 1230 by Rabbeynu Avraham Ben Harambam, Maimonides’ son. In his guide R’ Avraham details each of the positive characteristics that will help connect a person with their God. To those of us less connected to the God paradigm, we might say these are the things that help bring us in contact with truth, goodness, peace, purpose; with our innermost self. This time of year, when we are counting each day of the Omer, is considered a time of preparation to receive the Torah on the final, 50th day of the Omer, the holiday of Shavuot. R’ Avraham’s list of positive characteristics could serve us well as a guide to examine how we are doing with these each one: Rachmanut – mercy, Nedivut – generosity, Arichut Apayim – forgiveness, Anavah – humility, Bitachon – security or strong faith, Histapkoot – contentment (with what you have), Prishut – detachment.
It’s certainly an interesting list, and each one is worth investigating. I’ll attempt to give over a sense of what he means by Prishut, since I was surprised to find myself agreeing with him that it can serve as a deep gift to each of us and to the world. If we can all muster some Prishut I think we will be much more prepared to receive the Torah in a few weeks.
R’ Avraham opens with a general philosophical statement:
“The physical world is a big wall separating the servant from her master.” There is a problem with physicality, he posits.
"Whoever is running after the vanities of this world, and desires to own them, such as money, property or honor, and who lusts for its pleasures, such as eating, drinking and sex etc, this person is wasting his time trying to get the physicality of these things and their uses, and his thoughts are anxious about them.... This type of person tends to be tired. Their dreams are filled with what they’re anxious about. They wake up at night and think about how to get the things they want. They take a break during the and find themselves thinking back at what they used to do and what they might do in the future..... If they get what they want, they either hide it away like misers or they spend all their time figuring out the many details of how exactly they're going to spend it.”
Those who are too focused on these physical things, says the rabbi, waste their time away in anxiety and an endless loop of meaninglessness. “הקץ לדברי רוח” said Job, “The end to matters of spirit.”
The one practicing Prishut, on the other hand “her heart is not occupied with the worries of the world, and she has space to contemplate the things that bring her closer to her purpose, and her hours are free from fatigue and hard labor because she uses them to work on what brings her closer to God, and what is necessary for living in this world, such as 'bread to eat and clothes to wear.'”
You’re beginning to see why my study partner Michael and I preferred to translate it as detachment. There is a freedom that prishut can offer us, to be with what is beautiful and good with no guilt about the fact that we are there and not with the problems of the world. There are even those times in which we manage to allow ourselves out of our own problems and agonies, and escape into the open meadows of good feelings.
But this type of detachment is not disengaged. It’s not the detachment of monks or hermits, but of those living and moving through the world. The word Prishut comes from the same word as perush, or interpretation. In Torah study, a parshan, or interpreter must go into the text, sift through the various meanings that seem to be calling out from it, find the heart of the matter and bring it back out to pass on to others. That is the act of Torah study, and the act of being a part of this world. R' Avraham writes:
“The principle of detachment is that it comes from the heart, meaning that the heart is detached from the love of this world and distancing itself from it.”
Remember that when R’ Avraham uses the phrase “the world,” he means the physical rushing buzz of meaninglessness that is constantly calling out for our attention. The essence of the detachment is the ability to stay above that, while living an earthly life. This is an engaged detachment, which includes the mercy, forgiveness, generosity, faith and contentment that he laid out in previous chapters. It is the difference between the fear of something happening, and the dissipation of that fear when that very thing takes place. We could live in the fear and anxiety, or we could try to imagine what we're afraid of in concrete terms, and more often than not we will find the fear is illogical. It reminds me of my father describing feeling most free when he is arrested for civil disobedience when he’s out protecting Palestinian farmers from violent settler thugs. The arrest relieves him of the anxiety, and he feels at one with his purpose.
Perhaps the clearest indication of what this engaged detachment is comes in the sub-chapter called The Signs of True Detachment:
“In order to properly assess this matter you must notice how you feel about those physical things that you do not have, as well as your joy when they do finally arrive. If you find that what you were lacking from the things of this world doesn’t change your inner world, and you’re not worried about not having them, and you’re not anxious to acquire new ones – know that your detachment is true.”
If you were waiting for that Amazon package to arrive, and going crazy with anticipation or annoyance, checked the delivery status 6 times, and felt wronged by not having it – you're not doing too well. And if when it arrived you got very excited, stopped everything you’re doing and felt the giddy joy of the fulfillment of what you deserve – you're also not doing so well. But if you ordered what you ordered and lived without it at peace, and felt pleased but not all that different when you opened the box – well then you’re doing great! It’s sign that you are closer to contentment, to peace, to the truth of the transitory nature of life and death, to the acceptance of this world for all its beauty and horror, to the generosity of nature and the sweetness of being a human being, to the understanding that we call needs aren't always such, to the eyn-sof, the never ending never beginning essence of it all. That’s where we want to be when we accept the Torah, and its teachings of action, justice and love.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Misha