
I
flew today. The plane was sailing over high and majestic mountains,
their peaks painted white under deep layers of ice and snow.
I
thought how often I'd used the metaphor of a mountain to describe our
life's journey toward holiness. Somehow it always seemed that the top
of the mountain was the end of the journey. Perhaps most of us will
do well to reach it. But today I see that the top of the mountain is
not the limit.
In
Kedushah, as in our mundane world, when one learns to fly, one can soar
even above the mountaintops. Maybe that is how the Tzaddikim are able
to see beyond the limits of human comprehension. no longer moribund,
no longer bound to the surroundings of Klipah, the limited physical
world, they soar, gaining perspective beyond that achieved even on the
mountain top.
We
are taught that love and fear of G-d are the wings of the soul, investing
it with the power to fly to the heights of Kedushah.
Can
we not just grow our wings and take off? Why climb the mountain at all?
Why suffer through the torment and exertion that the ascent demands?
Why confront cliffs of adversity and precarious paths which challenge
our will to go on?
For
most of us, the common man, the answer may be that it is this very journey
up the mountain which teaches us, develops within us and upon us, the
"wings" of love and fear of G-d.
How
strong our wings become, or how much we let them languish in laziness
or self-defeat, is in large part the measure of how long and how high
our souls can soar into the upper realms of spiritual awareness and
light.
2-25-99