The Little Aleph

A peculiar box, a paradigm shift, and the Yishba's favorite poem.

“I am but a dizzy train, seesawing through the contrast of this complicated world.”

That’s when my teacher, the holy Yishba, told me about his favorite poem.

“Come to Shul at 3:26 tomorrow,” he said. But my body wished to sleep instead. “I can’t,” I said.  My comment, it seemed, had fangs and put him to sleep. Soon, a snore started and giggled across the room. I said tachnun and cried my cheeks off. Seconds later, he skipped awake blinking rapidly returning from a peg at the top of Yaakov’s ladder. “If you desire to wake up, you will have to wake up.”

---

The streets were silent then; a time when if you chanced upon a person, it would certainly concern him. I arrived at the shteeble at 3:27, punched the code, turned the lock, and stepped slowly. The room was dark. The Yishba’s shapely shadow casted diagonally across the wall. He swayed softly with the candlelight; aura like an unafraid ship balancing intensely on stormy waters; composed, but dripping with electricity. The flickering wick collided with the cadence in his voice sending signs of discipline and intentionality through the soul stirring river in the room.  A peculiar box sat beside him on the table. His hand welcomed me with delicate levitation and his four fingers, like humble servants, signaled that I sit.

“Vayikraaaa” he sang, forcefully in an uncomfortable whisper. Then he sounded just the end of it. “aaaa…aaaa…aaaa…” It was the aleph. Oh the sweetest little aleph; how I could literally see it.

“Because the aleph has no sound,” he said. Its purpose is to give shape to the others. If you really wish to speak to God in this world, Stop. Speaking.

The little aleph has a thousand ears, 
silences his sound, 
and listens for years.

To be a master, you must become the Servant. The Yishba smiled softly and winked. “how else do you think we do what we do?” “Aaaa,” he gargled comically. How so very foolish to think we could ever run this world. He got up and danced in grand celebration. “I’m just a little aleph. You’re just a little aleph. We’re all just the little aleph.” Then he sat quickly and his face turned cold. “But, only if we let it be.”

Otherwise, you’ll run in circles forever. You don’t have to make yourself crazy anymore. Do you really think you came here to live in the twister of dizziness? No! Really, you came here to look at the flowers and smell the songs of Shabbos. His fingers crawled down a stack of sforim. He pulled out a thin book coated in a sheen shade of lapis lazuli. “This is my Rebbe,” he said. That was the first time he read me “The Waltz.”

To fall in love with You. Madly in love with You. 
The infinite You Untouchable You. Cleanse my 
eyes and flood the earth You. With enchanting 
sweetness You. You send my ego out of the room. 
We waltz alone around the room. Forgetting our 
separateness. We fall in love and life is full. All of 
the darkness of the world surrenders into the sound 
of your soul. A passionate romance returns to the throne.

If you really want to believe in God, you really have to believe that God runs the world. Not you.

Afterwards, he ripped at the tape and pulled an iron from the box. It was somehow unplugged, while piping hot. He started ironing his stripe-less talis. Where had the time gone? I didn't know. I didn't know anything anymore. “Aaaaaaaaa.” The little aleph was creeping over me now. Let go and let God; let the dizziness of life be grounded, ironed, and humbled. “Savlanut,” he finally said. You can imagine then how strange I felt when the iron had miraculously turned into a living and breathing aleph. I quickly looked when the chazan started chanting brochos but when I looked back, the aleph was gone and the Yishba was already lost in prayer.

(Based on Parshas Vayikra 2023)

      Sweetest friends, 
                  have a beautiful shabbos. 

                              With love, 
                                      - The Yishba's Assistant