Shekhinah. Shekhinah.
The word simply popped into my mind like an
uninvited guest and wouldn't go away. At times it seemed to disappear,
but then it would come again, quietly, this strange word Shekhinah. It
seemed to be waiting patiently for me to pay attention to it. After hearing
it in my mind for three days I tried saying it out loud. "Shekhinah."
It had an interesting sound. And when I said it, I felt a soft tug somewhere
deep inside. I began to ask my friends if they knew what it meant. It sounded
as if it could be Hebrew, but although I knew some Hebrew, it was not familiar
to me. When my husband and friends were unable to help, I tried the library
in our small town but found no answer there either. Shekhinah. Shekhinah.
It was becoming more insistent now, demanding my attention. Still puzzling
over what it could mean, I was sitting in my bedroom one morning when my
friend Joan hurried through the door. She strode across the room and thrust
a book into my hands.
"Let's try this," she said. I glanced down
at the blue cover on which the word Kabbalah was written, and turned to
the index. Running my finger quickly down the S column, I read, "Shekhinah:
the feminine face of God". The words sent shock waves rippling down my
spine and goose flesh bristling on my bare arms because I realized at once
that the Shekhinah was not an uninvited guest at all. She had been announced
to me with great ceremony in a powerful dream a full month earlier. In
the dream, I happily soar high above the clouds on a great golden dragon
until I wonder, "Is this all there is?" The dragon immediately descends
to earth, alighting at the side of a jewellike temple on a large body of
water. I want to enter the temple, but I'm afraid to go in alone. I turn
back to the dragon, hoping it will come and protect me. But this temple
is human-sized and the dragon will not fit through the door.
I begin to climb the stairs to the entrance
anyway, and now I see a ferocious temple guardian with bulging eyes looming
menacingly in the doorway. Black dogs snarl on either side of him. With
uncharacteristic bravery I continue walking, and as I stride through the
door the guardian and his dogs evaporate as if made of fog. Once I'm inside
the doorway, an old man with long robes and a white beard emerges from
an inner hallway to greet me. Without actually speaking, he lets me know
that his name is Melchizedek. He is wearing a handsome dagger with a handle
of turquoise and jade, and as soon as I notice this he presents me with
a matching dagger, indicating that I am to wear it on my right side. Then
he motions me ahead of him. It is clear that he expects me to lead the
way.
I step into a long hallway with a high ceiling
and red tiles on the floor. Walking slowly, we eventually come to a pair
of polished wooden doors at the end of the corridor. I open them silently
and lead the way into a large, empty room. A plain wooden stage is set
against the far wall. At the back of the stage is a built-in cabinet. I
approach the cabinet and pull open the doors.
I am dumbfounded by what I see. Rolled onto
finely carved wooden poles is the most sacred object in Judaism, the Torah.
I learned as a child that the Torah contains the five books of Moses written
on parchment by an Orthodox scribe, and that if even one letter has been
written incorrectly, the Torah cannot be used. I have never actually seen
a Torah close up or held one, since these privileges were permitted only
to men when I was growing up. But now I lift this Torah carefully out of
its cabinet and cradle it to me tenderly as if it were a baby.
Then I notice something unusual. Instead of
a mantle of velvet covering the scrolls, or a simple ribbon holding them
closed, the Torah has been sealed shut by a dark round blot of red wax.
I look at Melchizedek. "This is a very special Torah," he says. Pulling
out his dagger, he breaks the seal and rolls open the scrolls. They are
absolutely blank. "The Torah is empty," he says, "because what you need
to know now is not written in any book. You already contain that knowledge.
It is to be unfolded from within you."
My question seems to set in motion the next
sequence of events. Without speaking Melchizedek lifts the Torah and lightly
places it inside my body, from my shoulders to my knees. I accept this
gratefully, feeling my body as a sacred vessel.
At once, a great commotion breaks out behind
us. Spinning around, I see that the room is now filled with long-bearded
patriarchs wearing black coats and trousers. They're holding hands, laughing,
singing and dancing jubilantly around the room. They pull me into their
celebration. As I dance I seem to see Moses, King David and King Solomon,
and Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. They, too, are dressed in black coats and
trousers, dancing with such heartfelt abandonment that I catch their joy
and am filled with it. Ecstatically we whirl round and round the room,
laughing.
Finally the dancing stops and I ask, "What
is this all about?" Melchizedek answers, "We are celebrating because you,
a woman, have consented to accept full spiritual responsibility in your
life. This is your initiation as one who will serve the planet."
As I wonder what this means, he continues, "And you are not the only one. Many, many women are coming forward now to lead the way. "
"You will be teachers for each other. You will come together in circles and speak your truth to each other. The time has come for women to accept their spiritual responsibility for our planet."
"We are your brothers," they answer, and with that the entire room is flooded with an energy of indescribable kindness. I am absolutely confident in this moment that they are our brothers. I feel their love without any question. They say then, "We have initiated you and we give you our wholehearted blessings. But we no longer know the way. Our ways do not work anymore. You women must find a new way."