Neo: Well, that didn’t go so well.
Morpheus: Are you certain the Oracle didn’t say anything else?
Neo: Yes.
Trinity: Maybe we did something wrong.
Neo: Or didn’t do something.
Morpheus: No, what happened happened and couldn’t have happened any other way.
Neo: How do you know?
Morpheus: We are still alive.
Well, that’s a pretty low bar, no? “We are still alive” is not the usual standard we use for, say, how a meeting went. “Honey, how was shopping today?” “Well, I’m still alive.” “Great. Did you get potatoes like I asked you to?”
Nor is “we are still alive” a level of success that should be discounted. It definitely has its place among the standards we use to assess success and well-being. There are, of course, many others - “We really connected!” “Best presentation of my life!” “I really felt it for the first time.” “I know that she heard me.” But “I’m still alive” also has its place, for sure. As does, “Well, I showed up” and “It wasn’t completely devastating” and “at least I said the words.”
Different standards are in play at different times. Sometimes even the same activity has different standards at different times. The trick is to know which one to use, and when. Because the simple fact is that the course of our lives will take us to the heights of the mundane and to the depths of the profound, and our own inner capacities will often vacillate between deep engagement and minimal presence, and every stop along the way calls upon us to recognize its unique set of opportunities and challenges, and to understand our experience accordingly. This would take a clear and open mind that is nimble enough to say, “What is happening here?”
Superimposing the standards of the sublime onto the world of the mundane will yield disappointment, disillusionment, disconnection, disempowerment, and worse. Superimposing the standards of the mundane onto the sublime can be just as tricky.
As challenging as it is, we are asked to remain attuned to the landscape of the encounter in which we find ourselves, as well as our own inner landscape, in hopes of aligning them as closely as possible.
How we engage in prayer is certainly one kind of opportunity; whether we are considerate to the other people in the room (or Zoom) is another. How we eat, dress, buy, sell, and play racquetball - all of these are part of the story. When they write of your noble deeds, they will include (and perhaps even emphasize) those parts of the story as well. I hope they don’t say about me that I davened with a lot of energy but couldn’t seem to find any energy at all when I was talking to the mailman. Regardless of the activity, a certain degree of presence, openness, alertness, humility, wonder, and respect can always be expected.
Who demonstrates this more than Avraham? His great, noble journey, replete with dynamic visions, also includes detours through Egypt, literal battle, and difficult conversations with his ambitious nephew. His mythical marriage to Sarah includes allowing her to be taken into a harem and then a confusing second marriage to Hagar, which brought a substantial amount of strife. (Strife also calls for a presence, openness, alertness, humility, wonder and respect, as strife also provides its own opportunities and has its own standards.) And Avraham’s mission to initiate the building of the Jewish Nation also included conversations over who stole the wells. His journey was not a straight highway to the sublime. There were plenty of apparent “detours.”
But Avraham does not think of these detours as detours. He knows - and he models for us - that each of them its own opportunity, has its own standards of connection and sanctification, and each offers its own spoils.
Consider Avraham and Sarah’s journey to Egypt. Soon after their arrival in the land of Israel, the land of Israel was beset with famine, and they needed to move southward to Egypt (which is always the destination when there is a famine). While most people would complain, or even question God’s providence, Avraham continues to step forward. He knows this is part of it. And what is the work? So many answers to this question are possible. One is that, even amidst this troubling story (wherein Sarah, his wife, is taken into Pharaoh’s harem) Avraham does something absolutely essential: he makes sure that he and Sarah are on the same page. He has a plan, but he makes sure she is on board with it. “Please say that you are my sister…” This is very instructive for moments when we are about to enter into something murky or difficult - make sure you are connected to the people who matter, and whose support you need, as things get hard. This is even more difficult and more true because people tend to withdraw into themselves specifically at times when they need support the most. So that becomes the standard. Not, “Did you have a nice, spiritual experience on Egypt?” but, rather, “Were you connected to the people you needed to be connected to?”
Consider Avraham’s conversation with his nephew, Lot. Both of them have huge flocks and herds, and it is becoming increasingly essential that they communicate about space for grazing. In fact, Avraham must separate from Lot because Lot’s shepherds have started to act inappropriately. Avraham knows that how we comports himself in this conversation is essential and important like everything else he does. How do you have that conversation? What would success look like? It probably won’t end in high-fives. Likely he won’t report that the conversation with Lot was amazing or inspiring. But success might mean that Lot knows that he is loved, and that Avraham remains connected to him, no matter what happens. If he came away from conversation feeling deep and spiritual and connected but had not succeeded in establishing those boundaries as well as that continued sense of connection, that would be a failure. And that becomes a model for us when we need to have hard conversations and set firmer boundaries. The standard: “Did you succeed in communicating those boundaries but still let them know you are with them and love them?”
Of course, Avraham also had intense God-moments. He built three altars and “called out in the name of God” in this parsha alone. And at those moments, the standard may well be “did you, really, deeply, truly call out in the name of God?” That may not be a moment of “did you make sure you feel connected to your partner?”
Having the right standard within the wide variety of soul-evoking moments is essential. It requires clarity, flexibility, and confidence. Thankfully, our biblical ancestors provide us with plenty of guidance along the way.