Extracting Sparks from Stones

G-d created the world through speech, and the words with which He created us are very much like flames. “Behold, my words are like flames” (Jeremiah 23:29). Flames don’t burn unless they have fuel to consume. The same is true of G-d’s words. “For G-d your G-d is a consuming flame” (Deuteronomy 4:24). His flame requires a wick and fuel to burn. Without fuel, it expires.

Can you imagine what happens when G-d’s flame runs out of fuel? His continual act of creation grows weaker until it sputters, G-d forbid, and ceases. This has never happened, thank G-d, because G-d’s flame has never run out of fuel. Our task is to ensure it never will. What fuels G-d’s flame?

G-d’s words use three types of fuel: human thought, speech, and action. When we meditate deeply on G-d during prayer or think deeply into a Torah subject to dissect, analyze, and understand it, we provide cerebral fuel for G-d’s flame on earth. When we speak words of prayer and Torah, speak well of our fellow, chant blessings, etc., we provide verbal fuel for G-d’s flame. When we perform Mitzvot acts, we provide tangible fuel for His flame. This fuel kindles His desire to keep up His act of Creation

This is not unlike the fuel for physical flames. Fire can consume oil, and a wick, or wood. The nicest, steadiest, and most dignified flames are fueled by oil. Even within oil, there are variations. Olive oil produces a very clean flame. Grapeseed oil produces an inferior flame. But all oils produce a better and steadier flame than wood. Log fires are unruly. They dance and crackle; they are large and unseemly. They are larger and stronger than oil flames, but they are less refined.

Even within logs, there are variations. The denser and moister a log is, the louder and more unsteady the flame will be. It will also produce more smoke as chemicals and toxins are released from the logs.

The same applies to the Divine flame. G-d’s enjoyment of our meditations and thought-based worship runs deep. It produces a holier and more refined Divine flame. By contrast, G-d’s appreciation of our verbal and tactile forms of worship is more substantial and stronger. There are more ways to worship G-d in action than in word, and more ways to worship G-d in word than in thought.

This means that when we perform action and word-based Mitzvot, we provide fuel for the Divine creation of tangible corporeality. When we perform thought-based Mitzvot, we provide fuel for the Divine creation of the more refined aspects of life, such as emotional, mental, psychological, and spiritual vitality.

Rosh Hashanah
If we look back on our year, we often find that there were days when we provided a little less fuel for the Divine flame than we could have. On those days, the Divine spark that vivified our existence banked a little. On some days, the flame dances and leaps, and on some days, it banks and retreats into the coal. When that happens, we fan the coal and coax the sparks to dance again.

We fan the flame during the month of Elul, Rosh Hashanah, and the days that lead up to Yom Kippur. It is called teshuvah, returning to G-d. It fans the Divine spark in our soul and nurses it back to life. We reflect on our love for G-d and how our behavior led us astray, placing distance between G-d and us. We think of G-d’s love for us and sense His loneliness as we abandoned Him. We yearn with every fiber to return, and indeed, we do. This sparks our

 banked flame and lets it dance again so it can roar its love for G-d from a heart burning with love.

When we fan the flame in our hearts and souls, we also fan the Divine spark that banked because of our inaction. Our sins starved the Divine flame of spiritual oxygen. When we nurse the spark in our soul back to life, the revelation of G-d flame is also nursed back to life.

After Rosh Hashanah, the world is firing on all cylinders. We are aflame with love for G-d, and G-d is aflame with love for us. We embrace our traditions with passion and provide ample fuel to inspire and energize the Divine flame that keeps existence alive.

The Cold Stone
Did my essay describe your Rosh Hashanah experience? Does your soul dance with love and passion on and since that holy day? If the answer is yes, you are all set. You don’t need to read the rest of this article. If the answer is no, and for a great many of us, it is, the rest of the article is for you.

Some of us have strayed so far from the flame that we are no longer a banked coal. Our flame has not just banked, it seems to have expired. We have no passion for G-d. We have little motivation (except perhaps a hint of guilt) to embrace His traditions. We came and heard the Shofar by rote, because it was expected. Some of us didn’t even come. What happens to our Divine spark? Is it gone? Will it expire, G-d forbid?

The answer is no. We are not snuffed out coals, we are untapped flint stones. The difference between a burned-out coal and a flint stone is that the former can never recover its flame, but the flint stone can always produce a new one. There is no spark in the flint stone for us to fan. It is cold and dry. But if you tap it with the right force and from the right angle, it will always produce a spark.

It is a remarkable stone. It can sit (even in deep waters) untapped for years, but the moment you tap it, a spark emerges. Of course, it is just a fleeting spark, but if you stand ready to capture it with a wick or kindling, you can sustain it and provide it with fuel.

Yom Kippur is the day we strike our flints tone. A flint stone represents the essence of the Jewish soul that can never be erased. Even the least involved Jew loves being Jewish. If you offered them a million dollars, they would not sell their Jewish soul. They have no active flame, they do not practice or exhibit outward traces of their Jewishness, but it is undeniably there. And when tapped, a fleeting spark emerges.

The High Priest
The Yom Kippur liturgy describes the High Priest entering the Holy of Holies to offer incense. This was the moment he tapped the flintstone embedded in every Jewish soul. No matter where the Jew spent the past year, in this moment, a spark emerged. Standing in the Temple, the Jew was able to capture this spark and sustain it.

We don’t pray in the Temple, but we bring that memory to life through our liturgy. When we read those pages in the prayer book, we chant the word that the High Priest proclaimed when he completed the ritual. The word was titharu—you will be pure. Your slate has been cleaned. You and G-d are good. You are together again. You are pure and alight. Your glow has sparked; you love G-d and G-d loves you.

It is a moment of profound and ethereal inspiration, but it carries a concrete, down-to-earth message. The numerical value of the Hebrew word titharu is 620, symbolizing the Torah’s 613 commandments and the seven added by our sages. The message is that if you choose to, you can capture, nurture, and sustain the spark produced in this holy space. You can leverage it into a new way of life, one that embraces all G-d’s commandments.

You don’t have to be a pious scholar and leading light of Judaism to embrace titharu. You just need to be a Jew. A simple, plain, unadorned Jew, who carries the holiest spark of G-d deep in your soul. If you have that, you can be a titharu Jew.[1]

[1] This is based on an essay by Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi, Likutei Torah, Vayikra, pp. 25b–26b.