Remembering our ancestors in the pursuit of peace

A venerable spiritual teacher of mine, Z'ev ben Shimon Halevi¹, never tired of declaring, “We live in interesting times.’ He was a warm, inquisitive fellow steeped in the teachings of his beloved Toledano tradition of Kabbalah. He championed the very practical ‘test to see if it works’ approach to self-knowledge advocated by this contemplative school of Jewish philosophy, a practice fully embodied in his youthful enthusiasm for life well into his eighties and quite probably beyond his death in 2020.

Once he had gently recited the invocation and lit candles to welcome the presence of Spirit, Halevi would invariably start the weekly group meetings in his modest North London home with a brief outline of the week’s geopolitical events to contextualize them within a well-informed ‘bigger picture.’ “We live in interesting times. Any questions or observations?” became his signature sign-off before opening the meeting to input from those gathering expectantly in his treasure trove of a front room, containing a lifetime’s collection of artworks, books, charts, religious symbols and artifacts, and alchemical and astrological ephemera.

Those magical Thursday evenings were my first formal introduction to a School of the Soul, something I had read about in books but thought merely myth or allegory. Here, however, on a weekly basis just off the Kilburn High Road, I was privileged to join an invited group of similarly minded spiritual seekers, from a broad spectrum of different faiths, in sharing a spiritual teacher’s knowledge and wisdom. Similar esoteric study groups of the Perennial Philosophy²—the unifying principles of Spirit underlying all spiritual practice—have featured in a multitude of cultural settings for millennia.

Our task is to realise, in each of our lives, the God Consciousness that lies at the root of our being and pervades the universe.

(Z'ev ben Shimon Halevi)

Through attending the school over a period of 20 years, flesh was added to the bones of my limited reading, study, and practice. Under my humble maggid’s guidance, mysticism became an open door to tangible experience, for which I remain deeply grateful to this day.

Halevi was a great historian, writing at length³ on humanity’s evolution and development in relation to Kabbalistic principles and cycles. He lived through the Second World War, frequently recalling the bombing of London during the Blitz and the social cohesion it bequeathed London in the face of tragedy. He was amongst the millions worldwide left aghast by the two atomic bombs dropped on Japan that ultimately signalled the beginning of the end to a harrowing period of global war and genocide. He noted with great respect that the millions of lives lost in the 20th century paved the way for a shift in collective world ideology from the dominant, simple aspirations of totalitarian rule toward wider acceptance of more complex democratic principles and law.

I have just returned from a trip to Hiroshima, made with the full intention to pay my respects to the 140,000 souls that perished as a result of the uranium bomb detonated by the United States over the city at 8:45 am on 6 August 1945. Nearly 70,000 innocent civilians were thought to have been killed instantly as the bomb’s fireball took 10 seconds to reach a ground temperature of 4000°C, immolating around 70 percent of all buildings in the city. An eventual death toll is harder to estimate but likely to be significantly higher due to the increased rates of cancer and chronic disease among survivors.

Nagasaki and Hiroshima remind us to put peace first every day; to work on conflict prevention and resolution, reconciliation, and dialogue; and to tackle the roots of conflict and violence.

(Antonio Guterres)

Today, Hiroshima is an attractive, busy, modern city acutely aware of its unfortunate place in human history. In the name of peace, it wears its catastrophic past with honor. The only building to partially survive the epicenter of the bomb was the Hiroshima Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall, now known as the Genbaku Dome⁴ or Atomic Bomb Dome. The dome’s miraculous survival was due to its modern construction with a steel frame, strong materials, and earthquake-resistant features, which allowed it to withstand the blast force while nearby wooden structures were entirely incinerated. The Dome ruin has been continually preserved by the local prefecture, gaining recognition as a UNESCO World Heritage site, and remains a central feature of the Hiroshima Memorial Peace Park, commemorating the event and its victims and survivors.

The park also houses the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum, opened in 1955 to ensure the horrors of the bomb are never forgotten while simultaneously making the strongest case for the total abolition of nuclear weapons. Walking round the museum’s permanent display is a distressing but moving experience as one exhibit after another testifies to the death and destruction unleashed by the bomb 80 years ago.

The museum and area surrounding the epicenter of the blast are visited by tens of thousands daily, predominantly Japanese citizens and vast numbers of schoolchildren, paying their own respects to the cost met by their fellow nationals on the path toward world peace⁵.

At this time of year in many cultures across the globe, events and festivals have evolved to celebrate and honor the dead, among them the renowned Mexican Day of the Dead, Hallowe’en (All Hallows’ Eve), All Saints Day, and Samhain. Our forebears are easily forgotten in the busy excitement of day-to-day living. They’re not here, of course, so they can’t remind us in person of the central role they have played in our very existence—we quite literally owe them our lives. They are the giants upon whose shoulders we stand and deserve no less than our perpetual gratitude. This month’s festivals of the dead give entire nations a traditional excuse for torchlit celebrations while the veils between the realms of the living and the dead are said to be at their thinnest. This week’s Taurus Moon provides a cosmological reminder to gratefully acknowledge our ancestors’ enduring genealogical presence in our own lives.

Japan is full of shrines, as many as 150,000 of them, evidencing the historic amalgamation of Shinto and Buddhist religious practice across the nation. Whether at the corner of a bustling commercial city street, on a shelf in a sushi restaurant, on a tiny plot next to an immense supermarket car park, or in a remote, forested mountain village, the shrine plays a key role in reminding the population of their spiritual heritage. Each location provides a sacred forum in which to give thanks or petition the overlighting shrine entity for health and happiness (the Japanese Buddhist pantheon was said to have contained over 3000 deities).

Like Halevi’s Toledano School of Kabbalah, the Japanese shrine embodies a very practical approach to spiritual exploration. I was informed, whilst visiting a nationally significant site at the confluence of three rivers, that a shrine only retains relevance by being visited. If it is not attended, like all living things, it must decay and pass. A shrine is therefore seen as a very pragmatic vehicle for the singular human desire to connect and commune with the unifying essence of Spirit.

It would appear to me that Shinto originated from the feelings of love and respect towards their ancestors by their descendants.

(Hirata Kanichi)

In this current period of world history, when major global economic powers continue to escalate their testing and production of nuclear warheads, perhaps there’s a case for those of us committed to nonviolence to fashion our own ancestral shrines in the name of peace. Why not take time to pick out a few photographs or objects that remind you of friends, relations, or individuals with whom you have an affinity, particularly those that have died in the past twelve months? Arrange said images and objects on a small table, mantelpiece, or shelf with a candle or two, an incense stick, and some fresh-cut flowers, foliage, or something grown in the earth.

Throughout this lunar month, take time morning and night to light the candles on your ‘family’ shrine and gratefully remember the ancestors, dead or alive, for the treasured gift of life they have bequeathed you. As you remember them with love and affection, resolve to use their gift of life in the best way you can for the benefit of All, that you too may eventually be a well-remembered ancestor. Such genuinely held, grateful intentions focus on serving Halevi’s ‘bigger picture’ rather than our own immediate selfish desires, and carry an almost immediate return in power, purpose and joy.

In front of your shrine, remember your surviving family and friends, those who still share your path in fraternity, bringing love into your life as an embodied, tangible experience. In quiet contemplation, if someone in particular comes to mind that you haven't seen in a while, follow it up and make contact. If you've got an outstanding Taurus Moon beef with anyone, make attempts to resolve the differences, or forgive and move on unencumbered.

This week take time to remember those killed in historic or recent violent conflict the world over and their devastated families. Remember those whose lives, homes, and livelihoods have been lost to shortsighted human misapprehension and enmity. Remember them all as brothers and sisters in the common family of humankind, and offer a pledge to do what you can to bring peace to all on this beautiful, precious planet in their memory. We live in interesting times indeed.