Of Snakes & Sticks

INSIGHTS
Of Snakes and Sticks
The lesson from Aaron’s staff: the only good warrior is a dead warrior
Count Me In
Beware of those who come along for the ride
Shards or Sparks?
When the hammer of divine wisdom strikes the rock of reality, the sparks fly off in all directions. But how does one tell one spark from another?
The Meteorology of the Soul
Where rain falls, rivers rise, and hail descends as fire enclosed in ice

A TELLING STORY: Diamonds and Chicken Fat
On the journey of life, value is relative

THE WRITTEN WORD: Soul Wash
When laundry becomes a living lesson

Moses and Aaron came before Pharaoh, and they did as G-d had commanded: Aaron threw his staff before Pharaoh and before his servants, and it turned into a serpent. Pharaoh summoned also [his] wise men and sorcerers... each cast his staff, and they turned into serpents; but Aaron’s staff swallowed up their staffs.

Exodus 7:10-12

The Torah emphasizes that it was Aaron’s staff that consumed the serpent-staffs of the Egyptian sorcerers. Our sages explain that since it is natural that a snake swallow another snake, G-d made that Aaron’s staff should swallow the others after it had reverted to its original, inanimate form, thereby demonstrating the impotence of Egypt’s idols in a manifestly miraculous way.[1]

But the miracle of the swallowing stick is more than a sign and warning to Pharaoh; there is also a lesson here, to each and every one of us, on how to confront the various “Pharaohs” we must deal with in the course of our lives. The Torah’s “ways are ways of pleasantness, and all its paths are peace”[2]—our mission is to create light, not to battle darkness. Nevertheless, there are times when we are forced to resort to battle, when we must vanquish those who seek to vanquish us. Thus Moses, the gentle shepherd of Israel,[3] and Aaron, the epitomic  man of peace,[4] found themselves in the role of “judge and chastiser of Pharaoh”[5] and the Egyptians, crushing their might and obliterating, one after another, their icons and myths.

But even when he wages war, the Jew is not a warrior. Even when he consumes the serpents of the enemy, he is not a serpent himself, spewing poison and hate. His instrument of vengeance is as devoid of vengeful feeling as the stoic staff, as cold to the rage of war as a lifeless stick.

Based on an address by the Rebbe, Shabbat Va’era 5742 (January 23, 1982)[6]

Pharaoh said: I will let you go. Sacrifice to G-d your G-d in the wilderness, but don’t go too far. Pray for me.

Exodus 8:24

A chassid remarked: The animal soul of man, which embodies his selfish and material desires, knows that it is futile to try to dissuade a Jew from serving his Creator. So when a Jew wants to pray, it doesn’t try to stop him; instead, it seeks to transform his service into just another selfish endeavor. Go ahead, says the “Pharaoh” within, serve your G-d. But don’t go off too far, don’t lose sight of the world you live in. Pray for me as well—don’t forget about my needs...[7]

Quoting the verse, “Behold, My words are as fire, and as a hammer that shatters a rock,”[8] the Talmud expounds: “Just as a hammer divides into many sparks, so does a single verse of Torah yield many meanings.”[9]

This saying itself is no exception: it, too, spawns several interpretations by the sages. These include:

a) Rashi[10] reads the metaphor, “Just as a hammer divides the rock into many sparks...” According to this, the “sparks” the Talmud speaks of are the rock-fragments of the shattered stone. This interpretation is in keeping with the wording of the verse, which likens the word of G-d to “a hammer that shatters a rock.”

b) Others[11] understand the word “sparks” in the literal sense—i.e. the sparks that are generated by the hammer when it strikes a rock. According to this interpretation, the word “shatters” is to be understood in the sense of “lets fly” or “scatters.”[12]

Often, a student of Torah might be inclined to favor one mode of Torah study over the others. A certain type of mind might tend to a “literal” approach, interested only in “What actually happened?” and “What is the Torah saying on the most basic, pragmatic level?,” while regarding the homiletic, philosophical and mystical interpretations of Torah as only of secondary significance. Another might adapt an exclusively “talmudic” stance, with an eye only to the legal dimension of Torah. A third is perhaps drawn most strongly by the philosophical implications of G-d’s word, while a fourth is “turned on” only by the mysticism of its kabbalistic interpretation.

Indeed, G-d’s word is as a hammer that shatters a rock, breaking it into fragments of diverse sizes and shapes. Each soul can thus find the particular fragment that most appeals to it, the one that best fits the form and texture of its own nature and aptitude. However, one must always remember that G-d’s word is also as a hammer that lets fly sparks—a spray of unquantifiable pinpoints of energy.

Yes, when the hammer of divine wisdom strikes the rock of reality, the sparks fly off in all directions. Some ascend to the esoteric heights, others cascade down to pragmatic ground; still others meander off to philosophical, psychological, inspirational, and countless other points of the cosmic compass. But can one measure sparks against each other? Can one say that any one spark is greater, brighter, more relevant than its fellows?

Based on the Rebbe’s talks, Tevet-Shevat 5741 (January 1981)[13]

For the land which you are entering to inherit is not like the land of Egypt from which you are coming... it is a land of hills and valleys, which drinks water of the rain of the heavens

Deuteronomy 11:10

The land of Egypt does not drink rainwater; rather, the Nile rises and waters it

Rashi, Genesis 47:10

And G-d rained hail upon the land of Egypt. And there was hail, and fire burning within the hail...

Exodus 9:23-24

Rain represents the reciprocal relationship between heaven and earth. “A vapor rises from the earth”[14] to the heavens, and the heavens return it as rain which “quenches the face of the land.”[15] This represents the spiritual truth that “an arousal from below evokes an arousal from above”[16]—that G-d responds to the efforts of man, reciprocating our prayers, yearnings and deeds with nurture from Above.

But rain alone does not suffice to make the land flourish and give fruit. The soil must be plowed—broken up and softened—before it can receive the seed and absorb the rain. Spiritually, this means that it is not enough to send up “vapors” of lofty feelings and virtuous works; one must first “plow” his ego, crush the clods of coarseness and arrogance in his personality, to make his life receptive to the flow of divine nurture from Above.

This is the doctrine of the rain-watered land. But in Egypt things were different. Egypt was nourished not by descending rain but by the overflow of the Nile, which would periodically flood the land. Nor was it necessary to plow its soil: the floodwaters of the Nile would leave behind a layer of extremely fertile silt which required no breaking up prior to planting.

The spiritual Egyptian is one who does not recognize the Heavenly source of the blessings of life. He believes that all is generated from below—that everything he has and has achieved is of his own making. Nor does he see the need for any “plowing” of his personality—he is fine as he is, clods and all.

When rain falls in Egypt, it falls as hail. Hail that is ice without and fire within.

We often speak of “warm” and “cold” personalities. A “warm” person is a passionate, loving, outgoing individual, always ready to extend a hand and a smile to a fellow. A “cold” person is reserved, self-centered, indifferent to the fate of others. But the cold individual is also aflame—fired with self-love, ablaze with egotistical passions. Indeed, it is his excess of inner heat that is the cause of his icy exterior.

When rain falls in Egypt, it falls as a hail of ice-enclosed fire. In this unplowed land, where the heavenly source of its water is unseen and unrecognized, the nurture that descends from Above is perverted as a source of increased love of self and greater alienation between man and his fellow.

Based on an entry in the Rebbe’s journal dated “Va’eira 5702” (1942)[17]

A poor man in Odessa heard about a distant land where the streets were paved with diamonds; the precious stones were as commonplace as the dust of the earth. Despairing of his financial future at home, unable to provide for his family, he decides to try his luck.

After an arduous journey, he berths at this exotic island. Lo and behold, the rumors are true! The streets are literally littered with jewels. With a burst of adrenaline he begins to quickly pack his suitcases with the gems, stuffing them to capacity. Now, he’s very tired. It’s been a long trip – and packing all those precious stones wasn’t easy either. With a newfound sense of bravado, our exhausted friend checks into the finest hotel in town – reserving the most luxurious room in the house.

After ensuring that his room and belongings are secure, he makes his way into the restaurant and orders a meal fit for a king. Satiated, he glances at the bill for his feast and offers the waiter an exquisite sapphire, saying, “Keep the change!”

With a look of contempt, the waiter asks, “What do you expect me to do with that rock?”

“It’s a valuable diamond,” our friend protests.

“These diamonds have no value in our land,” retorts the waiter, “they are mere rubble. Because of our low supply of livestock, we place great value on chicken fat. That’s our treasured commodity.”

The man goes cold as he learns the law of supply and demand – the hard way. How is he going to pay for his extravagant meal? The hotel management promised that they would not charge him criminally, if he paid off his debt by washing dishes. A hard worker, he does so, and does so well. The hotel offers him a steady job, and he begins to acclimate to life on the island. Before long he manages to save some cold chicken fat for himself.

As time went on our entrepreneur prospers and becomes a wealthy man. He remembers the family he’d left behind in Odessa, and decides to return home in triumph – as a successful businessman.

Notified that he was coming home, his family is waiting at Odessa’s dock. As our friend’s yacht approaches the shore, the stench horrifies the waiting crowd.

“It smells like chicken fat,” they cry.

“Yes, that’s right,” our entrepreneur proudly acknowledges. “The yacht is filled with chicken fat. We are rich!”

“But where are the diamonds?” asks his confused wife, “the gems you went looking for?”

“What value are diamonds?” scoffs her husband. “They are as common as dust. Only chicken fat has value.”

The wise wife then understands.  “You seem to have forgotten the purpose of your trip. You were supposed to collect diamonds – not chicken fat. Do you perhaps have on little diamond, a souvenir from your years of hard labor in that strange land?”

The allegory describes the soul’s descent into the physical body. Before a soul enters the world it is told: Perform Mitzvot, for they are as precious as diamonds. Collect them and cherish them. Garner as many as you can during your brief sojourn.

But we often lose sight of our mission, thinking that the world’s mundane pursuits – the chicken fat – is what has lasting value. When the soul returns from its journey, when it re-enters the spiritual dimension, it is gently asked, “Don’t you have a few diamonds to show for your journey?” A prayer here, some tzedaka there – and the soul begins to search her life for gems, morsels of meaning.

This is the most difficult, but most important, aspect of human life: Keeping focused on the priorities.

Soul Wash

Editor's Note: “May G-d appoint a man over the community,” prayed Moses, “A leader who can relate to the unique spirit of each and every individual'' (Numbers 27:16; Rashi, ibid.). Such a man and leader was the Rebbe.

What follows is excerpt from a letters written by the Rebbe which exemplify his unique ability to relate to each and every individual in his or her terms and focus on his or her individual characteristics and strengths.

In this letter, the Rebbe probes the deeper significance of an aspect of modern life to inspire and motivate with a lesson that is both universal and distinctly personal to his correspondent.

The letter is dated Sivan 17, 5711 [June 21, 1951] and is addressed to Jacob Pearl, a launderer by profession.

Greetings and blessings!

As I told you during your visit here, my father-in-law the Rebbe[18] would often quote a saying by Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov: “From everything that a Jew sees or hears, he must derive a lesson in his service of the Almighty.” Obviously, one should look for a lesson in his daily occupation.

Clothes and linen, before we put them on, are clean and smoothly pressed - everything in its proper place. But after wearing them for a while they become creased, dusty or stained. Nevertheless, one need not discard these clothes; instead, one gives them in to a laundry or a cleaner's. The laundryman puts them in a tub or machine that has a warm or hot temperature, with hot water, chemicals or soap that serve to remove the dirt and stains. He then presses it by applying a heavy weight or pressure. The garment can now be worn again.

So it is with the Jewish soul. When the Almighty gives the Jew- man or woman alike - his or her soul, it is clean and pressed and fitted individually to him or her. As we say every day in the morning prayers: “The soul that You have placed within me is pure.”

In time, however, as it is used for worldly matters, the soul becomes creased - creased through its use for things that are not the will of G-d. The soul may also become soiled and stained when one neglects, G-d forbid, to do an obligatory mitzvah or one transgresses, G-d forbid, on a divine prohibition.

Nevertheless, the Torah teaches us not to despair, G-d forbid, of the soul's purity and its fittedness for mentchlich and Jewish living. One must immerse it in a warm temperature - that is, warm it with the warmth of Torah and mitzvot, so that it should “stew” in them and be vitalized by them. This warmth must be a moist warmth, so that the soul should have a moist adherence to all things holy; this is achieved by heartfelt prayer, of which it is said “Pour out your heart like water,”[19] and with heartfelt Torah study, of which it is said, “ ‘Ho, all who thirst come to water’ - water being Torah.”[20]

One should also mix in other things: the giving of charity, the observance of kashrut and other mitzvot, thereby restoring the soul to its spotless purity. And if one adds to this the “weight” and “pressure” of Torah - a weight and pressure that may seem, at first, to be a burden - this not only does not bother the garment, on the contrary, it presses it smooth and sets each thing in its place, restoring it to its proper form and shine. In other words, through Torah and mitzvot the soul becomes what it ought to be.

I conclude with a blessing of long life for you and your wife, may she live. May you have much nachas from all your children, may they live.[21]

Adapted from the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe by Yanki Tauber