Verse & Vision: Gabriel Meyer Discusses His Book ‘On the Verge of the Verb’

Gabriel Meyer is a renowned spiritual activist, storyteller, and musician. His upcoming book, On the Verge of the Verb (releasing March 1st via Monkfish Book Publishing), blends memoir, sacred storytelling, and visionary fiction. The book takes readers on a transformative journey across continents and spiritual realms, exploring themes of interfaith harmony, cultural renewal, and collective liberation.

Born in Argentina to a family of human rights advocates, Gabriel is the son of Rabbi Marshall T. Meyer, a disciple of Abraham Joshua Heschel and Martin Buber. He has co-founded initiatives like the Sulha Peace Project, which brought Palestinians, Israelis, and internationals together in grassroots healing efforts. With teachings from Zen Roshi Bernie Glassman and Rabbi Zalman Schachter Shalomi, Gabriel bridges Jewish, Christian, Sufi, Buddhist, and Indigenous wisdom traditions.

On the Verge of the Verb recounts Gabriel’s adventures across more than 20 countries, exploring faith, culture, and humanity. The book culminates in a visionary reimagining of Hebron and Jerusalem as sanctuaries for peace, where diverse faiths unite to heal. It’s a deeply personal narrative offering universal insights on sacred activism, interfaith dialogue, and spiritual justice.

We’re excited to interview Gabriel for “Verse & Vision” as he discusses his journey, his new book, and the powerful themes of peace and collective healing that run through his work.

Gabriel, your new book, On the Verge of the Verb, blends personal memoir, sacred storytelling, and visionary fiction. How would you describe the intersection of these elements, and what was your vision for bringing them together?

Gabriel Meyer: “The interface between the sacred, the personal, and visionary fiction creates a multidimensional, nonlinear rich broth. As scrumptious as an African grandmother’s soup. Gifted of spice by fiction and depth by the sacred, its personal components make the mix integrate shadow and light, creating an irresistible liminal reality, with as many points of access as the reader is willing to enter. The collective and the individual are part of this imagination leap, an adventure of sacred activism where the ‘sacred,’ inspires action.”

The book takes readers on a journey across spiritual dimensions and continents. Can you share a specific experience that shaped the themes of interfaith harmony and cultural renewal in your work?

“Our private audience with HH, The Dalai Lama, was such an experience. In our unexpected one-hour encounter (we were admonished: ‘maximum 15 minutes’), he emphasized the importance of stepping into the other’s cultural and spiritual shoes, not only in theory but as direct spiritual practice. And so, he told us about the spiritual impact of his encounter with the Virgin of Fatima at a church in Portugal. Here was the highest spiritual authority of Tibetan Buddhism, engaging with a Catholic virgin.

“This brought home for us the need for multifaith empathy, getting to feel like the ‘other’ in their most sacred ceremonies and at their holiest altars, beyond cultural, and faith boundaries.”

Your father, Rabbi Marshall T. Meyer, was deeply involved in human rights, and you’ve continued this legacy in your own work. How did his persuading shape your path as a spiritual activist?

“My dad was the one who initiated me as a ‘sacred activist’ when putting on my (phylacteries) ‘tefillin’ for the first time, the Thursday before my Bar Mitzvah ( Jewish initiation into adulthood).

“The two of us, together with the famous journalist and political prisoner, Jacobo Timerman, who was under house arrest during the terrible years of the Argentinian dictatorship, were praying and crying with our tefillin, while at gunpoint by ununiformed paramilitaries.

“I felt this ceremony—blending spirit and action, and challenging the military dictatorship while praying—would stay with me for the rest of my life. It did, and spiritual activism became second nature to me.”

Gabriel Meyer, photo by Nick Levitin

In your book, you touch on collective liberation. How do you define this concept, and what role do you think spiritual activism plays in achieving it?

“We are all interconnected. Or, as the great Buddhist sage Thich Nhat Hanh coined it: ‘interbeing.’ For one to be free, all of us have to be free. Furthermore, for me to feel in awe of the beauty of the Earth and enjoy its bounty, all creatures, not just humans, need to be included. And so, the Hoop of Life needs every single being to participate in their sacred role, for collective liberation to happen. This includes our body, our emotions, our mind, and certainly our Spirit.

“Collective Liberation is like a puzzle, where each part needs to shine freely at its best, for the whole to be complete. As my late teacher, Rabbi Zalman Schachter Shalomi used to say, ‘The only way to get it together is together.’”

You’ve spent years fostering reconciliation, particularly with initiatives like the Sulha Peace Project. Can you share a particularly transformative moment from these experiences that influenced your approach to peacebuilding?

“I had arrived in Israel only a few years back. This was my first time in the West Bank, visiting a Palestinian Sufi Sheikh. The Jewish friend who took me there told me that I was the third Israeli Jew he had the opportunity to meet. He wanted me to tread very carefully and go slowly in my interactions with the Sheikh.

“The encounter began quite formally, with the customary greetings, Salaam Alaikums, and kisses on the cheek. Then, I did some ‘show and tell’ with the four traditional plant species, as it was the feast of Sukkot (tabernacles). I thought this would bring us closer together in our common ground of nature. In response, he just mentioned some sura from the Koran related to this.

“We were all still quite stiff and felt a bit awkward. I didn’t tell my friend, but I had brought my African drum, camouflaged inside a normal bag. So, I stood up, reached for my drum, and started singing a Qawali Sufi song in Arabic.

“By the time I got to the chorus, the sheikh couldn’t resist. He joined in, got up, and told his son to bring his frame drum. We ended up in a Zikr Sufi purifying ceremony that lasted the whole night and finished with a delicious meal. And we all ate from the same big tray with our right hands. We had bonded.”

In the book, you envision Hebron and Jerusalem as sanctuaries for peace. What are the spiritual and symbolic aspects of these cities that made them central to your vision of collective healing?

“Hebron is where the cave of the Machpelah, the grave of Abraham, is located. Abraham is the father of Ishmael and Isaac, of Arabs and Jews. That is where the brothers meet after Ishmael is banished together with his mother Hagar to the desert. As written in the Book of Genesis, they reunite to bury and grieve their father together. According to legend, this double cave is the entrance to the Garden of Eden. So, the healing begins here in Hebron, at the place of separation and reunion of the ancestors of both peoples, Ishmael and Isaac, Arabs and Jews.

“The collective healing ends in Jerusalem, the city of the inheritance of peace.

“In Jerusalem, Abraham, the common father of both peoples, was initiated by his mentor, Melchizedek, the priest of the heavenly God, the king of Justice, and the first king of Jerusalem.

“The meeting of Abraham with his teacher brings about ultimate harmony and collective healing, by blending wine and bread, Truth and Love, Peace, and Justice.

“Jerusalem is one of the most intense ‘stress knots’ on the planet. Just like a good acupressure point releases all of our body, achieving holistic peace, Shalom and Salaam in Jerusalem will ripple across our beautiful Earth.”

Gabriel Meyer ‘On the Verge of the Verb’ book back cover

Your work brings together Jewish, Christian, Sufi, Buddhist, and Indigenous traditions. What challenges have you encountered in bridging these diverse spiritual paths, and what have you learned from these efforts?

“These sacred paths and cultures are very different, in their theology, philosophy, and cultural, historical, and geographical context. The ‘bridging’ of faith – cultures requires a high dose of ‘transcultural patience.’ This means the pursuit of deep listening without judgment, curiosity, and compassion toward other people’s traumas, and shadows.

“I’ve learned the hard way to always begin by celebrating the beautiful aspects of another people’s tradition. There’s a tendency for spiritual seekers to strive for absolute truth and shameless expression. It is always good to remember that our goal is harmony and that spitting out raw self-expression out of context is not always the best way to get there. When dealing with someone from a different culture, developing trust, and finding the appropriate timing and setting before getting into sensitive matters are crucial for a healthy and friendly relationship.

“In the end, when we are in grief or in joy, when we are cold or hot, we go back to being human. We are all the same.”

You’ve been initiated into the “Order of Disorder” by Zen Roshi Bernie Glassman. How does this teaching influence your approach to life and activism, particularly in the context of your book?

“The ‘Order of Disorder’ reinforces in me, and in my book, the disarming power of radical humour. It empowers the archetypical role of the sacred fool. Laughter is the wild card, the last barrier of our spiritual journey. In ancient Thebes, the legend goes, there were 42 Gods and Goddesses to pass by, after crossing the Duad, the River of Life and Death. The last of these Divinities was Meshkeneth. As she laughed, she erased the 41 Gods and Goddesses that came before her.

“In the Hebrew Lunar Calendar, the last moon is Adar, according to the Kabbalah, the moon of ‘Laughter,’ the last spiritual lesson of the year. We need to learn to laugh at ourselves, before we can anoint ourselves as kings and queens and tell the new story of our purpose for the year, in the first moon of Nisan.”

The theme of collective trauma is woven into your narrative. How do you approach healing and transformation at both an individual and collective level?

“Healing comes from the root of the word whole. Becoming whole involves first acknowledging, and then integrating our deepest shadows. To heal our shadows and our addiction to patterns of behaviour, we must get to the root of the needs that those patterns intend to cover. And then try to fulfill those needs.

“This deep endeavour is the work of transformation and integration, not only for individuals but also in the collective realm. Just as people have traumas and blind spots, groups and nations have them too. Both need to take into consideration the cultural, economic, and societal context of where those traumas began.

“The road to healing is pretty much the same in both cases. However, in our individualistic system of capitalism, people usually focus on their own private therapy or ‘wellness.’ It is much more challenging to be able to see and heal collective trauma, as it requires the will of a whole people.”

Gabriel Meyer, photo by Nick Levitin

You’ve been involved in activism for many years. In what ways do you see the role of the artist and storyteller in the pursuit of justice and social change?

“Creativity is key to disentangling the armour of conflict. ‘Artivism’ and ‘Heartivism’ are important tools for dismantling the systemic defence mechanisms of Reality. The first line of defence is the reptilian brain, our flight fight, and freeze hormonal mechanism. Usually, a straightforward assault on the systems of oppression generates a reactive response. When attacked directly with recognizable tools, the ‘enemy’ gets bigger and louder. The magic lies in humanizing the ‘monster’ and relating to the ‘enemies’ at the limbic level.

“Lullabies, jokes, and cooking recipes are secret weapons for disabling the reptilian brain. Once the limbic brain is activated, the way to the cortex is paved. Addressing the obstacles with the spaciousness and clarity of the neo-cortex is paramount to achieving positive results for social change and justice.”

As someone who has travelled to over 20 countries, how do you see the role of travel and immersion in different cultures as a tool for spiritual growth and collective understanding?

“Travelling develops new perspectives and strengthens the heart. Immersion in new cultures boosts humility and wonder. It widens the way we see, listen, smell, sing, dance, grieve, rejoice, cook, dress, decorate, and talk. We become more nuanced in our opinions and more sophisticated as guests or hosts. We get to love the One in the Many and the Many in the One. Earth becomes a beloved family of Life, including rivers, mountains, clouds, plants, animals, humans, and angels. As for the challenges of loneliness and inadequacy, they increase resilience and the virtue of counting your blessings.”

Finally, what do you hope readers will take away from On the Verge of the Verb? How do you envision the impact of the book on individuals and communities?

“These are times of turbulence; they abound in myriad dystopias offered through the arts. Today, we lack stories imbued with beauty and visions of an embodied and interconnected loving village. The ‘solo’ culture of competition and the dictatorship of private property has taken over. Authoritarian paradigms and bullying have become fashionable, and contagious around the planet.

“I wish for the readers of this book to renew their love for their lives, as individuals and as a collective, to re-kindle cooperation, radical awe, and compassion for all the creatures of our beautiful Mama Earth and for the book to serve as inspiration for creative community, and as a balm in these perilous times.”