Most people with a brain would agree that it's the most useful tool. But there's an interesting disagreement about how and when to use it. Some might say, "I use my intellect for the physical, material challenges of life: to run my business, write a resume, buy a house, build a boat, program the VCR." These are the kinds of tasks for which reason and logic are indispensable. But when it comes from my inner, spiritual life—my religious convictions, my love for my family, my time for meditation and prayer—these can't be rationalized or measured in terms of logic. These are areas where I surrender to my subconscious, intuitive ego.
Others take the opposite approach. "On the contrary," they say, "on the spiritual side of life, the guidance of the mind is essential. Precisely because of its pride and subtlety, it is highly vulnerable to corruption. With regard to my material endeavors, I can afford to operate on autopilot; that’s not important to me. If they don’t work exactly as they should, it’s not the end of the world. But in my spiritual life, which is most important to me, I want to do it right. That’s where I subject every action, every thought, and every feeling to the most precise measuring tool I have: my intellect."
Who is right and who is wrong? According to a fascinating Midrash on Jacob's sleeping habits, both positions are wrong.
In Genesis chapter 28, we read how Jacob, during his journey from the Holy Land to Haran, spends a night on Mount Moriah (the Temple Mount):
""He found the place, slept there, the sun had set and he lay down in that place.""
As our Sages repeatedly emphasize, the Torah contains no superfluous words or letters. So, what is the meaning of the seemingly redundant "lay down in that place"? (The Torah already tells us that "he slept there.") What message is hidden in these words?
The Midrash says: In that place he lay down, but during the fourteen years he was hidden in the house of Eber, he did not lie down...
He lay down in that place, but during the twenty years he was in Laban's house, he did not lie down."
"That night," the night Jacob stood in the holiest place on earth, was the most spiritual and the most material period of his life. Fourteen years before that night, Jacob had been secluded in the house of his teacher Eber (Noah’s great-grandson), devoting every moment to seeking divine wisdom. For the twenty years that followed that night, Jacob worked as an employee of his scheming uncle Laban, tending his sheep and amassing a fortune for him. According to his own testimony, his devotion to the task was so absolute that "sleep fled from my eyes" (Genesis 31:40).
But during the one night that intervened and joined these two periods, Jacob "lay down.""
A person who lies down positions their head and the rest of their body on the same plane. By doing this, they relinquish the most important advantage a human being has over all other animals: the head above the body.
As the masters of Hasidism teach, a person's upright posture is much more than a feature of their physical anatomy. Rather, it reflects a deeper truth: in human beings, the mind governs the heart, the head rules the physical body. This, writes Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi in his Tanya, is the "innate nature" of humankind. A person who allows themselves to be ruled by their emotions or instincts has renounced the most important trait of their humanity, the most significant difference between humans and animals.
This, says the Lubavitcher Rebbe, is the deeper meaning of the Midrash's statement that Jacob did not "rest" during his 14 years in Eber's house, nor during his 20 years with Laban. Jacob is telling us that the rule "the mind rules the heart" applies to all areas of life, from the most spiritual endeavor to the most material occupation.
All areas of life, except when you are on Mount Moriah.
There is a higher truth. A truth that transcends the physical and the spiritual; a truth that surpasses intellect and instinct.
God is neither spiritual nor physical. He created both realms and is equally present in them. He provided us with the "highways" connecting us to His highest truth in both worlds: for example, tefillah (prayer) is a spiritual highway connecting us to God, while tzedakah (charity) is a physical path. And He provided us with a guide—our rational mind—to navigate both areas of life.
But we also need to be connected to the higher divine truth that transcends spirit and matter. In fact, it is only because of this connection that we can inhabit these two diverse worlds and even incorporate them into our lives.
This is why Jacob had to spend a night on Mount Moriah, the site of the Holy Temple, the place of God's deepest revelation to humankind and of his commitment to God's service: the place where elemental divine truth is manifested. Only an "encounter" with Mount Moriah can bridge our "years with Eber" and our "years with Laban." Only an encounter with Mount Moriah can bring our spiritual efforts and our material pursuits into the same life, coexisting harmoniously and even nourishing one another, imposing the same standards of integrity on both.
But on Mount Moriah there are no rules and no tools. You cannot grasp or comprehend, you cannot rationalize or experiment. You can only surrender to it. You can only lie down.
Our "Moonlight moments" are extremely rare. For Jacob, a single night was enough for 34 years. What matters is not how often we have these moments or how long they last, but how much they permeate everything we do.
By Yanki Tauber, extracted from www.jabad.org.ar