Religion is Spirituality with Preservatives

One of the things I learned from my teachers is to treat homeless people, beggars, sanitary workers, and other characters from the edges of society with respect. Most people prefer to pass them by, pretending they did not notice their existence, as if they were mere air.
I would often give them something like three or five dollars, an amount that I would easily spend on a simple cup of coffee without thinking twice. But the money is not the real issue. The main thing is actually to stop for a moment, have a short conversation with them, smile at them, and let them feel that I see the humanness in them too. I often use the terms “brother” or “sister” when we speak if I do not know their name, to let them feel the truth: we are all connected, and they really are brothers or sisters, not a social problem or a sanitary hazard.

In Buffalo, New York, there is a man named Eric. He is not a beggar. He walks among people on the streets or in cafes and tries to sell them pendants or bracelets that he makes. Eric is a special person to me. His face beams light. I like having a small chat with him whenever we meet on the streets of Buffalo.
Many profound words of wisdom I have heard from the "transparent people." Sometimes you can find hidden philosophers among the homeless people. It has already been said in the book of Ecclesiastes (chapter 9):
״Neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happen to them all.”

I want to share with you something I learned from Eric:

During one of our conversations on a street corner, just before I entered my favorite coffee shop in the neighborhood, Eric casually spoke a great sentence, a sentence that I think is worth printing on t-shirts, hats, or mugs (actually, now that I'm writing this I think that maybe this is a project I should implement... produce and give a percentage of the profits to Eric!)

"Religion is spirituality with preservatives,"

said Eric during one of those short street conversations about the meaning of life.

"Religion is spirituality with preservatives" Boom! In one sentence, Eric hit the spot and cracked the history of all religions through the frustration so many of us feel about them. Judaism, Christianity, Islam, or Tibetan Buddhism – they all have preservatives.

To transmit deep spiritual truths from one generation to the next, religions took the inner vibrant revelations of the founders, added "preservatives" (meaning: traditions and laws, warnings and caveats, clothing and customs), and packed everything together in a can for future generations.
We all know what happens to healthy food when it is soaked with preservatives – its nutritional value drops dramatically. All its essential substances and minerals are diminishing in favor of the preservation ability.
This is precisely what happens to spiritual truths when contained in the conservation cans of religion – their nutritional value for the soul deteriorates.

As a result, when we want to uncover a deep truth that exists, for example, in Kabbalah, and has value to humanity in general, we have to peel back this truth from layers upon layers of chauvinism, patriarchy, conservatism, or intra-textual argumentation that cover it.
And do not get me wrong: I am not claiming that it is not important to preserve words of wisdom from one generation to another, just as I am not claiming that we should not try to protect our food for a few days so it does not grow stale or mold. But this should be done in ways that do not destroy the nutritional value of the food, physically or spiritually.
In ancient times they did not preserve food as we do these days. The hunter-gatherer culture may have been able to keep food for two or three days, but the general assumption was that one had to return and find fresh food every day.
The people who created religions did not seem to trust that even if they did not preserve their revelations, the next generation would manage. They did not trust that future generations would find fresh sacred food suitable for them and for the time in which they live. They did not trust that the prophecy would continue to emerge and flow. They did not trust that the Holy Spirit would be present with the people of future generations and guide them on fresh and new paths.

It is worthwhile and recommended to eat organic food without preservatives. And yet, my work with the ancient texts is sometimes similar to that of archaeologists who found a date seed in a jar from thousands of years ago. They sowed it in a greenhouse and managed to grow a living tree from it, bearing fresh fruit. These date fruits are sweet, fresh, new, and healthy, yet they carry the fragrance of ancient times. The book of the Zohar calls these kinds of offerings "Attika-Hadatta," that is, "Ancient-New Things."

Thank you Eric.

Ohad Pele, August 2023