For easier reading for myself:

A Jewish Perspective on the JhanasBy Jay Michaelson
<http://www.jewcy.com/author/jay_michaelson/>  / February 5, 2009
Part II:

Is there God in the Jhanas? So what about that "Is"–that sense of
devekut, the numinous, the Lover, that I found in the fourth jhana? As
I've indicated, I didn't just experience the jhanas as a
blissful or contented state, which is how the Buddhist texts described
them. I experienced them as holy–which is how the Hindu texts did.

I'm not prepared to say that any particular experience was
necessarily an experience of God, or an angel, or anything in
particular–but I will say that they were extreme encounters with the
"numinous." Moreover, if I were setting out on this practice from a
specifically religious perspective, there's no question that these
experiences would be described in terms of visions, mystical union,
blessings, even prophecy. Jewishly speaking, they correspond in
interesting ways with the states described in some of Abraham
Abulafia's books, and in the Shaarei Tzedek, a text by one of his
disciples that is translated in Gershom Scholem's Major Trends in
Jewish Mysticism.

If the jhana practice doesn't match these mystical states, I
don't know what does. (For more on this, see "Does Mysticism Prove
the Existence of God? <http://www.zeek.net/jay_0507.shtml> ") The
presence, the light–it is literally bringing tears to my eyes as I
write this, because it is so healing, beautiful, gorgeous, holy, and
pure. For example, sometimes, during the third and fourth jhanas, there
would arise a bright, hot light at the "third eye" spot–basically,
where the head part of the Tefillin rests, a correspondence I did not
fail to notice, although sometimes it would move up to the crown chakra
point. This I will not describe further, except to say that I
experienced all kinds of wisdom and insight in connection with this
light. If you've had similar experiences, hameivin yavin.

If not, I'm going to shut up about it anyway for now. Go see for
yourself. Now, what's going on in such experiences? As I see it,
there are three options: This is a sacred state, and it's just
ignorant not to see that. Buddhists experience the state but choose not
to see it as sacred (my Burmese teacher told me not to get distracted by
any of these sensations, and that doing so was dangerous); materialists
don't see it because they are willfully blind. If love is real, this
is real. This is purely a mindstate, which perhaps one day we can
measure and stimulate artificially.

The sensation of "holiness" is purely a sensation. Any claim that this
is of anything–whether God or anything else–is reification, and
thus delusion. Great that the states healed you and helped you see
truth; leave it at that. God is there if you look for Him/Her. My
choice, no surprise, is number three. It would be dishonest to sit here
and tell you that I did not experience an intense closeness to God in
these states, far more than any in prayer, meditation, ecstatic,
entheogenic, or energetic work I had done in the past–and again,
I've done a lot. This is what I experienced, and I don't want to
lie in order to make myself seem sane, credible, or level-headed. But I
also don't want to make any assertions or jump to any conclusions. I
just don't know.

And I like resting in that question, because it prevents me from falling
into idolatry, fundamentalism, reification, or attachment. As I've
written about at length in my book Nondual Judaism (coming out next
September from Shambhala), I think this word "God" is a kind of naming,
a way of relating to "Is" that some people choose to do and other people
don't. Remember, "Ein Sof" does not mean "God"–it means
"infinite." And YHVH doesn't mean God either–it means, I think,
"is." Asking whether "is" exists is nonsensical. Asking whether "God"
exists is a question of naming. Do we choose to experience this moment
as You, rather than It? If we do, You appear–quite reliably, the
more spiritual practice one does.

God is here, right now, I know it. However, it is also possible to
choose to experience this moment as It, in which case the personality of
God recedes, and is replaced only by a placid, transparent, omnipresent,
maybe-aware emptiness. This is also true, right now, and I know it too.
I know both of these things because, thank God or karma, I am blessed
with these two ways of relating–the secular Buddhist one, and the
religious Jewish one. I find both of them incredibly nourishing.

On my jhanas retreat, days would go by without God-consciousness. I
would surrender to the practice, experience ecstasy, bliss, contentment,
and equanimity as factors of mind, and grow very quiet and precise.
Other times (especially since the retreat coincided with the Jewish
holiday season), the protective, loving, and sometimes erotic natures of
God/dess would arise even during quiet concentrated mindstates. Even in
the fourth jhana, there was a sense of "I am always here." At the very
least, there was often a sense of gratitude–and "God" was just a
name for Who/What I felt grateful toward. So, I really do want to say
that everybody is right–partly because I experience both sides
myself.

As Ken Wilber has described in great length and of great use, it's a
matter of looking, and as Wilber also discusses, it's really helpful
to look from as many perspectives as possible. I don't think the
Buddhists are ignorant because they're missing the God piece, and I
don't think the Christians are deluded because they're seeing
Christ. I think we approach the mystery with perspectives, expectations,
and vocabularies that both shape and interpret those experiences.

The wings of the Shechinah are the flapping ears of Ganesh, and both are
just a visual impression that should not be reified. Which perspective
works best depends on the moment, and your heart. Now, this may not be
enough. In a way, the jhanas really undermine some of the foundations of
Jewish spiritual life: if these amazing and holy states can be
stimulated purely through concentration, then what do we really mean by
"an experience of God"?

Is devekut just a mindstate? Isn't this just the kind of
non-religious version of religious experience that Sam Harris, at the
end of The End of Faith, says we should institute in place of dogma and
religion? If you can "get there" purely with concentration, then
what's the point of all the God stuff–the piety, the worship,
and the inevitable attachment to form?

Biggest of all: is "God" purely a projection of the mind, a reification
of a feeling? And not only that-what if "God" is an unhelpful projection
of mind? Several times during retreat, I found myself engaged in what I
came to call "pseudo-covenant," or making neurotic deals with God to
please grace me with another mystical encounter.

>From a Buddhist perspective, this is a really unhelpful delusion,
because it prevents the clear seeing of the conditions that actually
bring jhana about: concentration, effort, and so on. Even from just a
nonsectarian spiritual perspective, though, pseudo-covenant is
crazymaking. There's no end to it–it's basically a prolonged
state of fear and insecurity.

Whereas, when the states are seen as simply conditioned
states–profound, amazing, life-changing, loving, blissful states,
but still just states–calm and clarity prevail. I really don't
know, but I have a few replies–or at least, ways of seeing. First, I
come back to a very basic understanding that it's easier to see the
truth at some times than others. This is true in mundane as well as
spiritual contexts. Ever have a moment in a relationship when, due to
whatever reasons, you suddenly see the truth (for better or for worse)
about your partner? Conditions enabled that seeing–a crackling
fireplace, a blown responsibility–but the seeing is true
nonetheless. Maybe jhana is just an extreme example of that. With the
mind blown and the heart open, the numinous just appears–at least to
those of us who are looking.

Second, let's remember that sometimes this state appears even when
we're not looking. I didn't come on this retreat looking for
God. I had my intentions, and they were not particularly Jewish ones. In
my experience, which I trust but do not defend, which I fall back on but
do not proselytize, purely in my experience, without any assertion but
with an admission, a confession, a release: God found me. Again, I'm
not saying I saw God or spoke to God or anything like that. I'm just
saying these are the holiest experiences I've ever had, and that if
I was inclined to ascribe such labels to them, they would certainly fit.

Third, let me return for a moment to the fourth jhana. One of the
lessons of that state is how thin it is. It's extremely subtle,
which is why it takes the most concentration to enter, and why it holds
so much power for spiritual practice. It is devoid of qualities:
it's not loving like the third jhana, or ecstatic like the first, or
delightful like the second. Just pure equanimity. Now, that too is a
conditioned phenomenon–but it's a very
  <http:///www.jewcy.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/legacy/jay06.jpg> thin
one.

The "God" that emerges in that state is the nondual God: Is. So
we're not really reifying a mindstate; we're seeing What Is
through different prisms, some of them colored with love or joy, and
some entirely colorless. This seems really important, and as I mentioned
above, is one of the most important Jewish teachings of jhana. God is
not a name for when you feel good. Fourth, I want to really inhabit that
"I don't know" for awhile, and see where it leads: not answering,
not knowing, surrendering and letting go to this mystery that is beyond
any capacity or concept. Surely this is wisdom.

If there is God, nondual or otherwise, surely it's beyond our
capacity to explain. And if there isn't, but there's just a vast
emptiness when all conditioned phenomena are let go of, well, then
it's exactly the same, isn't it? Both "God" and "not God" end up
in exactly the same place: empty of all concepts, radiant, mysterious,
and yet somehow with a tinge of knowing.

Finally, I don't want to get lost in theology, when the point is the
experience, whether its religious in nature or not. Let's assume
these are purely conditioned mindstates, whatever the consequences of
that assumption may be. Let's let go of magical thinking, and
religious thinking. Great! Now the question is what are they good for,
what do they teach, how can they enrich our lives. Sharon Salzberg,
following the Buddhist canon, defines the quality of faith as "trusting
your own deepest experiences." Trust, not explicate or define or reify.
That seems right to me, and these were certainly some of the deepest
I've had. Everything is as it was: tables and chairs, loneliness and
wisdom. But in my heart, there is now a deep knowledge of love. All
images by Harriete Estel Berman <http://www.harriete-estel-berman.info/>
.

http://www.jewcy.com/religion-and-beliefs/jewish_perspective_jhanas_0
<http://www.jewcy.com/religion-and-beliefs/jewish_perspective_jhanas_0>



Reply via email to