My Personal Journey with Reb Zalman
I was 39 years of age and attending a retreat, when I asked Reb Zalman for advice, “Should I move to Philadelphia from my home in Eureka, California?” I was ambivalent since a move would mean giving up my treasured rural community in exchange for a vibrant Jewish Renewal community in a densely urban environment.
Reb Zalman looked at me and said, “Lynne leiben, it would be good. You can work with me and run my new Spiritual Eldering Project.” I barely knew Reb Zalman, though I had studied with him in Northern California, and now he was asking me to work with him! It was all a bit outlandish, but Reb Zalman had planted the seed that would radically change my life’s trajectory.
Radical change was not something that was unsettling for Reb Zalman. In fact, some might say that he was attracted to transformative radical change. As a Chassidic rabbi in the 1960s and 70s he walked in two worlds. The Chassidic tradition, in which he was deeply embedded, provided the foundation and sustenance for his life while he also embraced the emerging “Age of Aquarius.” From this cultural explosion his own vision took shape of a Judaism responding to the changing paradigms of our world, built upon mystical teachings “renewed” to bring meaning to contemporary Jewish souls. This became known as Jewish Renewal.
He was fearless in reimagining the laws of “kashrut”—the traditional laws concerning what foods are fit, proper or correct. In an age of styrofoam and factory farming he added the additional criteria of ecological harm. Or, inviting women to study, read from the Torah, and become ordained as rabbis. He welcomed all into his community of learners and seekers, and his impact did “renew” contemporary Jewish life.
And, as we know, despite his enormous impact on the world and his brilliant mind, he too became concerned about growing old. He knew that there must be another way, to transform the “downward arc of aging into an … expanded consciousness that crowns an elder’s life with meaning and purpose.” He wanted and needed no less for his own aging self.
So together we worked. I was the well-organized, administrative, native-English speaker. He was the mystic, seeking a psycho-spiritual model of what it might mean to re-envision growing old, declaring that “anybody could grow old, but it takes work to become an elder.” And he did the work.
He did his research and spoke with other contemporary spiritual teachers, psychologists, wellness professionals – anyone who would be brave enough to venture into conversations about what it might mean to grow old. He wondered, how could our elder years, his elder years, be useful – rather than just a diminishment after a lifetime of inquiry, teaching, and service?
As a renowned rabbi he was invited to speak at senior community centers. But when folks learned that the program was about aging – OY! Even he could draw only a handful or two of attendees. No one wanted to talk about growing older! This was still the time when a person who died in an “old age home” was quietly wheeled out during the night so as not to upset the other residents with the person’s death. Of course, the idea of people “just disappearing” was not considered a problem.
In the early years of the 1990s we attended the yearly American Society on Aging Conferences where the focus was on solving the many problems of aging “seniors.” Most folks used that word only to claim their “senior benefits” – a high price to pay for admitting that you were OLD!
Reb Zalman insisted on using the term “elder” – which for many referred to a person within a religious community. But from his dear colleagues, Barry and Debby Barkan, he understood that an elder was a person who deserved respect – and that was what he was seeking.
As a young woman, seeking a more conscious and spiritually oriented life, I was most attracted to his definition of “spiritual” – “entering a dimension of awareness that is filled with a sense of the presence of divinity, sacred, protected, blessed – that has the whiff of eternity about it.”
Since most of his work was within the Jewish community, he was frequently questioned about why this was “spiritual” rather than “Jewish” eldering. He was adamant that this work was “not-Jewish” but “vanilla” – meaning that elders had more in common with each other as elders — than they might have with others within their own faiths.
We traveled a lot together. When in restaurants he would always ask the server’s name, and then introduce himself and have a bit of conversation before ordering his food. This very small gesture meant so much to me. It was clear that a bond of humanity was immediately forged within this brief conversation, and the server was no longer an object but a person with their own story.
He was a brilliant man. Reb Shaya Isenberg, Bahira Sugarman and I spent 8 summers with Reb Zalman, at the Omega Institute teaching, and as faculty we ate in the Faculty Dining Room — rather than the larger dining hall. The conversations in that smaller dining hall were fascinating. On several occasions, I listened in awe as Reb Zalman conversed with another exceptional faculty member as they would run the gamut of intense discussions on a variety of subjects. They could go from psychology to classical music, to yoga to aeronautics – and Reb Zalman was completely conversant in each subject!
Because he was not a native English speaker his writing was not always coherent. Actually his “talks’ were not so coherent either! He would broach a topic, and then he was off, having so much to share with many tangents and side stories, as well as throwing in a bit of Yiddish, or Hebrew. It was hit or miss whether he would bring the story back and tie it up to provide a clear message. He might end by saying, “let’s bring this talk in for a landing,” and break into a niggun, a wordless melody.
This did not work well with his writing. So, I learned to edit, with great humility — for who was I to rewrite what he had written? Still, it was essential, and I learned to be a decent editor, taking so much pleasure, after the pain of decoding what he meant to say, in bringing his message to the reader. This strengthened our working relationship. He was always the one to decide on content and answer questions about theory. But if you wanted to know about the administrative and functional part of our work, it was wise not to listen to him! We had a good partnership – acknowledging and respecting each other’s areas of expertise.
Reb Zalman himself was a treasure of tradition, learning and spiritual practice. He would often teach classes in our neighborhood that drew from the Chassidic tradition. One evening he was speaking about death and what occurs after a person dies. I was absolutely astounded. He spoke for about 40 minutes about what happens after death; the many journeys and encounters of the soul as it leaves the body and ventures into other realms. He spoke with specificity, and I found myself thinking, “How does he know this? How can he speak with such assurance about this mystery?”
Reb Zalman was a marvelous source of knowledge, tradition, and awe. I am forever grateful for what he offered to our world, and that I serendipitously ventured into the sphere of his being. My time with him was an amazing blessing and gift for how I am able to navigate my unfolding sage-ing path.
Author Biography
Lynne Iser was the Founding Director of the Spiritual Eldering Institute, where she learned about the opportunities and blessings of becoming an elder in her work with Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi. She now serves as President of the Elders Action Network, “building a movement of elders addressing the social and environmental issues of our time;” and, leads their Fix My Funds campaign to impact the financing of fossil fuels. She continues to teach Sage-ing and the Deep Ecology work of Joanna Macy, in webinars and retreat centers; and maintains her own website Elder-Activist.org. S
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