
It
was a sweet, gently awesome thing to be there and understand how quickly the
spirit vacates the physical container -how gently it happens - how complete and
final it is. One second, the heaving,
straining breathing signaled life still present - and the next -peaceful quiet
absence -and yet Presence- as we sat there and said our good byes and cried our
tears. We mourned the passing of this
goofy, loveable dog who had given us all so much love and enjoyment and
laughter over the years of his life in our family.


Right at the beginning of Genesis,
the ancient creation story affirms that humankind is created in the image of
God. Nowhere does it say only “good”
humans are created in God’s image, nor does it exclude racist humans or
terrorist humans, or female humans or disabled humans - - - it simply affirms
that God created humankind - - ALL of us - - in
God’s image. To harm or kill another
human being is to deface the image of God.

Over the last few years, I have
found myself returning again and again to a body of Hasidic wisdom called Tanya. One of the most powerful concepts in the work
of Rabbi Schneur Zalman is the concept of the beinoni - a term for the individual who straddles somewhere
between tzaddik (a saint) and rasha (a wicked or evil person). An
absolute tzaddik is one who has absolutely no inclination toward evil residing
in him or her. There is no longer any
conflict between good and evil within a tzaddik. A rasha, on the other hand, is one who is
totally directed by the governance of the body drives and emotional whims and
there is no awareness of any manifestation of Divine Soul.
Then there is the
beinoni who has not sinned in his or her
behavior but who has not completely purged him or herself from evil either -
but rather lives in a state of needing to be continually aware of the
deliberate, conscious decision never to draw life energy from any source other
than God. [1] Perhaps this is similar to the teachings
of mindfulness in the Buddhist tradition.
This is a gross over simplification
of a very beautiful and complex spiritual psychology but it is helping me to
build a frame of reference for venturing toward compassion and understanding of
the density of such a one as Al Baghdadi from whom virtually no light could
shine.
At some point the Tanya goes on to
teach that a complete tzaddik (in
whom there is no inclination toward evil) or a complete rasha (in whom there is no
inclination to good) are extremely rare.
More often there is almost total “goodness” with a touch of “evil” or
almost total “evil” with a touch of “goodness” - - something like the Yin/Yang
symbol where opposite halves are intertwined with a tiny spot of the one
appearing in its opposite half and vice versa.
So, perhaps it is possible that
somewhere in the recesses of the person called Al Baghdadi, a well hidden spark
of light might have permitted him to love a child or an aging parent, while the
rest of him found it easy enough to mindlessly obliterate human life, to
generate hatred and terror on a much larger scale. Even the tiniest spark of light, no matter
how dim, marks him as a human being. He
died like a human being, running from pursuers, alone, afraid, terrified enough
that he chose to end it all himself before being captured. The rest of us lose our own human dignity
when we speak of his death with glee and triumph. His life and his death are part of a human
tragedy.
Our beloved Flash died like a dog, a
beloved member of a human family, attended to with care and compassion, with
tears and mourning, with dignity and grace.
There is a huge difference.
[1] Tanya,
the Masterpiece of Hasidic Wisdom, trans. By Rabbi Rami Shapiro, SkyLight
Paths Publishing, Woodstock, Vermont, 2010. p.xi
Vicky Hanjian
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