There was the Native American, which involved brushing your body with eucalyptus branches, rubbing "healing" herbs blended with corn oil into your muscles, and wrapping you in a warm herbal sheet while chanting Native American blessings. The Egyptian Clay treatment "...cleanses your body of physical, emotional, and spiritual toxicity." The Reflexology promised to "...break up crystallization and dissolve blocked energy." And let's not forget the renowned Wassertanzen, during which, according to the spa's brochure, "feelings of complete trust and relaxation surface as your therapist leads you underwater using massage, baby rocking, dolphin and dance movements.... Deep states unfold within you as you surrender to yourself."

Stranger only than the "treatments" were some of the guests at this oasis of heightened consciousness. Other than having the same, blissed out, look on their faces, they were a pretty diverse bunch. Among them: a TV actor and his wife who spent most of their time rubbing each other's feet; a famous folksinger who drove a Porsche and said "far out" a lot; a Hollywood exec and his quite-young, quite-blonde "friend"; two old-women hippies just back from hiking in China; a writer from New York; and a couple from Santa Fe who told me they considered Wassertanzen "very important work," and that since Venus and the moon were in the perfect positions, their massage experience was going to be "prime."

The folks at this spa represent just a small segment of the people who subscribe to New Age rites of passage. There are tens of thousands more, and, truth be told, Jews are a huge part of the movement. In fact, it's estimated that one-third or more of the Americans who journey to India to study with a spiritual master are Jews.

I've never gone to India, and while I only spent two days among the devotees of this New Age spa, what I discovered there bothered me. Sure, I joined in the quiet, blissful fun with a few treatments of my own. I, too, showed up for dinner in my bathrobe looking dazed and at peace. I relaxed. I enjoyed myself. But then it was over. Before I knew it, I was back to my life as a rabbi.

Barbara needed checking up on--she was fighting cancer and complications that landed her in intensive care for almost two months. This mother of three was barely hanging on. Wendy was finally pregnant after years of infertility treatments--she just wanted me to hear the good news. Marty, a mere boy of eighteen, was going in for his marrow transplant--his chances were about thirty-eight percent--his mother wanted to talk. There was Torah to teach and the marrying and burying to do.

It turns out that there's a difference between Betsy and me, who returned to reality, and many of the spa's other guests. Many weren't just visiting the Dream State of Inner Peace; they were full-time citizens, going from spa to spa, seminar to guru, mud bath to watsu pool, cold cucumber wrap to crystals, and psychic to astrologer. They have plenty of money, time, and most of all, an unceasing interest in their own well-being to the exclusion of just about everything else. As far as I can tell, for these people and many who emulate them, the New Age pretty much boils down to "Me, me, me--far out!"

What's worse than the truly lost people who wind up there are the serious, successful people who have been sucked into New Age through its mirage of quick wisdom or hidden insight immediately revealed through the right seminar or sage. While not exactly superstitious, these seekers look for, and think they've found, a brand of speedy magic to make their lives more meaningful.

How Jewish is this New Age? Not very. Just remember what the Talmud has to say about the Jews who are singing and dancing, celebrating their miraculous escape from Pharaoh across the Sea of Reeds. According to the Talmud, even the angels in heaven wanted to break forth into song upon seeing the Jews rescued and the Egyptians crushed beneath the ocean waves. But God scolds the angels, saying, "The work of my hands is drowning in the sea, and you want to sing!" It's the Talmud's little reminder that Jews should never be so wrapped up in their own pleasure that they ignore the pain of others. That's why we remove ten drops of wine from our cups during our Passover seders--to remind us of the suffering each plague brought to the Egyptians-rejoicing while others suffer is not Jewish.

I met many people at the spa who whistle a happy New Age tune while they ignore the rest of God's creatures all around them; people who are so busy cultivating their own inner peace that they never confront the world outside. To be a Jew is to know the world needs us, all of us. Sure, everyone likes a nice vacation and a good massage, but I've met too many people who never snap out of it.

I suppose New Agers consider their search for a constant state of bliss an admirable one. I, for one, was happy to spend a few days relaxing but even happier to return to the real world with all its opportunities to do good; it's where we belong. Because Wassertanzen may be many things, but it is not "very important work."