Eli: Boker tov, Rebbe.
Rav Daniel: Hi, Eli, boker tov.
Last time we got in touch with Hashem as the One Who releases us. Today we’re with Him as the One Who stands us up tall: “zokeif kefufim.” It’s one thing to be able to stretch and, mentally and emotionally, to be freed of what weighs you down. But it is “zokeif kefufim” that is the real power that makes us so special as human beings: the ability to stand up tall. This has many implications. First, we are invited to tower above everything else, to sense some level of superiority over the animal. As we’ll see, that can become problematic when it leads to haughtiness, but it is a truth we need to get in touch with. Second, it allows us to use our hands as hands, and not as another set of feet. We can be much more precise, we can build with exactness, we can hug and caress…
Eli: And we can play music!
Rav Daniel: To be so expressive with our bodies … yes. But, I think the most relevant aspect for us is that standing tall lets us see far ahead. This is the meaning of “The wise man’s eyes are in his head” (Mishlei) on which the rabbis comment, “So is the fool’s eyes!” But the meaning of the wisdom of the wise eyes is that “he sees what will come of this”—he looks ahead and chooses a path with a purpose. You can only do that if your eyes are “up high,” figuratively and literally. So if “matir assurim” was a release from our past, “Hashem zokeif kefufim” is an invitation to our future.
But listen: the Talmud says—and so does the Shulchan Aruch—that a person should not walk four amot standing up tall. So are we blessing Hashem for enabling us to do something that is prohibited? The answer is that they did not say, “Don’t stand up tall.” They said, “Don’t walk completely stretched out.” Yes, stand tall and look forward, be filled with hope and purpose. But then when you start walking, watch your feet. Be where you are. Touch the ground. Don’t be that type of haughty person who, while he’s walking, he’s strutting around, you know, in a way that’s like he owns the place and is above it all.
Eli: You know, Rebbe, maybe this is connected. When I was a kid I had my eyes on becoming a rock star! But really, I don’t think I started to truly play until I … just started playing. Sitting at the piano and being in the music, now.
Rav Daniel: Yes! When what you care about is the image you’re projecting of yourself into the future, you cannot get there. Because your future is built from your present and won’t come if you lose touch with who you are now. So, “Hey, are you feeling the notes you’re playing right now? Are you feeling a voice that’s coming up through your throat right now, out of your heart?” Not if you’re walking in komah zekufah! And that is what the halachah means by never walking four amot [standing up tall], which means leaving the standing space that is yours. (Everyone has four amot around him that’s considered to be an individual’s “domain.”) Never walk down the road with a komah zekufah because then what you’re doing is you’re ignoring where you are, and you lose touch with your center in a way in which everything is future-oriented. If your aspiration and your vision become an obsession, with what you’re going to get to, you will get completely lost. You won’t see anybody—you’ll walk right over them. You won’t notice the people loving you now. You won’t pick up the messages Hashem sends you while you’re on the way.
In the whole story of leaving Mitzrayim and in the desert there are two men who are Moshe’s nemeses: Datan and Aviram. They’re always introduced as “nitzavim,” which Rashi (Parashat Korach) says means they strutted out “b’komah zekufah.”
Their names are perfectly appropriate. “Dati” in Hebrew means “religious.” Datan means he’s the religious guy—really religious. He’s not just dati, he is Datan; this guy is his religiosity. He’s a guy who has become so caught up with being righteous about everything that he doesn’t want to see the person in front of him, his komah zekufah being his self-righteousness. Truth is, he’s ceased being a person himself—with wholeness, presence, truthfulness.
Aviram means “my dad’s the greatest.” Like, my daddy owns the freeway. You know? I’ve got yichus. My dad is really high up there, way up there. But, of course, the truth is that we all came from one man, after all, so that we never lord ourselves over others.
But to stand with a komah zekufah as feeling your height, feeling your future, seeing with a vision, having hope while knowing that every person must say, “The world was created for me” is what we seek. This is G-d’s hope and blessing for you.
The Maharal (in his peirush on Pirkei Avot, 3:14) says that to stand tall is actually our Divine image, what it means to be b’tzelem Elokim. For Hashem is free, standing beyond circumstance, seeing ahead. And so, too, are we empowered by Him to do that.
Eli: I hear this as an empowerment and a responsibility. Standing tall is really an invitation to not only not get stuck but to chart a course … to have a vision. And then to walk towards it step by step, totally aware of who is right next to you and honoring him. Totally connected to what is here, now, and respecting it, responding to it.
Rav Daniel: Totally connected to who you are and who you can become. Both.
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