My rebbe died recently.  Rabbi Aryeh Hirschfield of blessed memory, of Portland, Oregon was 65 and died while vacationing in Mexico. 

I’ve found it difficult to describe to people what it means to have one’s rebbe die.  It’s true that he was the spiritual leader of our congregation – so in that sense he served the same role as a priest or minister does in a church, at least as I understand it.  He was also a good friend, a spiritual mentor, and an inspiring personality. 

But he was more than that too – and nothing I’ve said about him this month to my family, friends, and co-workers, somehow describes the large hole his death has created in my life. 

“Rebbe” is the Yiddish word for “Rabbi.”  “Rabbi” is a Hebrew word meaning “teacher” or “my Master” and is similar to the Japanese word “Sensei” in that way.  “Guru” in India, or “Lama” in Tibet, is a similar word for a spiritual teacher.  The word “guru” has some negative connotations in the U.S. where it is sometimes applied to leaders of cults who expect unquestioned obedience to their authority. 

In the U.S., “rabbi” often refers to someone who graduated from a seminary and so might be used in the same way that we refer to ministers as “Reverend.”  “Rebbe,” however, carries additional connotations because it is the term used by Hasidic communities for their spiritual leaders.  The Lubavitchers refer to their last Rebbe, the late Rabbi Schneerson, of blessed memory, as “The Rebbe.”   Rebbes provide spiritual guidance to their followers, not just rulings about Jewish law or leading services.  And their followers often have close emotional connections with their rebbes. 

So my rebbe was a righteous man, a talented songwriter and singer, a wonderful teacher, and an inspiring leader.  He was my spiritual mentor and friend.  I think it is also important to mention that he was a perfectly ordinary human being too.  Someone who got impatient and angry, who had trouble juggling his busy schedule, and who could be frustrating (and frustrated) during committee meetings.  But in all the activities of daily life, he brought a fierce energy to doing things mindfully and to feeling things deeply.  He was always challenging himself, and us, to go beyond our self-limitations, our stuck places, our comfort levels. 

Perhaps the best way to describe him is not through the traditional Jewish language after all, but through the Jungian language of individuation.  In Jungian psychology individuation is a process of psychological differentiation, having for its goal the development of the individual’s personality.

 "In general, it is the process by which individual beings are formed and differentiated; in particular, it is the development of the psychological individual as a being distinct from the general, collective psychology." (C.G. Jung. Psychological Types. Collected Works Vol.6., par. 757) 

As I think of it, individuation is the process of becoming as fully ourselves as possible.  This involves listening to what our soul wants and acting on it – even, especially, when our soul asks us to do things that are uncomfortable, that make us fearful, and that ignore our desires for comfort and security. 

Rabbi Hirschfield was a rebbe for me, and many other people, because he confronted his shadow side, he acted in the face of his fears, and he became a wonderful role model and example of what an individuated person can accomplish in this world by becoming more and more of himself. 

Looking at my own life now in the reflection of his, I see how far I have to go before I become who I really am, rather than the rather haphazard collection of roles given to me by my society, my culture, my family, and self-limiting choices.  I know now that it is possible to do better than I have in developing my own true self. 

Or at least I know this part of the time.  I forget.  I get tired and discouraged.  I am both inspired and saddened, celebrating and grieving, laughing and crying. 

If you’ve ever known an individuated person, you know that they are rare and precious.  I feel humbled to have known such a person, and I am bereft. 

May we all be blessed to have such people in our lives, spurring us on to doing whatever it is we need to do in this precious, precarious, lifetime.