Destroying The World

ESSAY:Destroying the World
The price and the profit of human weakness

TRANSCRIPT: Woman’s Work
What the Rebbe said to six women in 1953

The world was created with ten utterances. What does this come to teach us? Surely it could have been created with a single utterance! But this was in order to exact payment from the transgressors who destroy a world created with ten utterances, and to better reward the righteous who sustain a world created with ten utterances.

Ethics of the Fathers, 5:1[1]

G-d is the essence of good.[2] He is benevolent and compassionate,[3] and merciful toward all His creations.[4] How, then, can it be said that the reason He created the world with ten utterances was “in order to exact payment from the transgressors”?!

The mishnah does go on to say that G-d’s purpose was also to grant greater significance to the good deeds of the righteous. G-d being the ultimate and only reality, the sole measure of how real and significant a thing is, is the extent to which G-d imparts being and meaning to it. By choosing to “invest” ten utterances in the creation of the world (“Let there be light,” “Let the earth sprout forth vegetation,” “Let us make man,” etc.—instead of simply saying “Let there be a world”), G-d made our existence that much more significant, and our development of the world in accordance with His will that much more worthy of reward. This, of course, also means that the destructive deeds of those who transgress His will are of greater consequence, as they damage a world made more significant by G-d’s greater involvement in its creation. But if this were the mishnah’s point, it should have begun by saying that G-d’s multiple enunciations were “in order to greatly reward the righteous, who sustain a world created with ten utterances.” The negative fallout from this could have been noted afterward (if it need be noted at all). The fact that the mishnah first speaks of the greater possibility of “exacting payment from the transgressors” implies that this is the crux of the reason G-d created the world with ten utterances, and that its other point—“and to greatly reward the righteous...”—is secondary to the divine purpose. How is this to be reconciled with the concept, axiomatic to the Jewish faith, that G-d is the epitome of good and His creation an outpouring of His infinite benevolence?

It is no accident that we count and quantify things by tens, and that the number “ten” is a byword for completeness and perfection. Because G-d created the world with ten utterances, the reality we inhabit is a “decimal” one—a reality that is comprised of ten basic elements (embodied by the ten sefirot, the spiritual “building blocks” of creation), and in which every object, force and phenomenon possesses ten dimensions or attributes.[5] And the reason there were ten utterances, the Zohar tells us, is because the Torah, which is G-d’s “blueprint for creation,”[6] is also ten-dimensional.[7] G-d, of course, could have formulated His wisdom and will in any manner He desired; but because He chose to encapsulate them in the Ten Commandments, the number ten became the underlying structure of creation. No thing is whole, and no endeavor is complete, until all ten of its integral components are realized.[8]

A righteous individual (tzaddik) is one who pursues and realizes this perfection in his life. He fulfills the Ten Commandments and the Torah they embody; he refines and perfects all ten traits of his character, and all ten dimensions of his environment. He “sustains a world created with ten utterances,” preserving the elemental structure of creation and bringing to light the potential for perfection imbued in it by its Creator.

The transgressor (rasha) violates this divine order. He transgresses the Ten Commandments and its derivatives, corrupts the ten faculties of his mind and heart, disrupts the harmony in G-d’s ten-dimensional world. But in doing so he uncovers the opportunity for teshuvah (“return”). On the most basic level, teshuvah is the ability to repent of one’s transgressions and attain forgiveness for one’s past wrongs. On a deeper level, teshuvah is the capacity to transform a failing into a positive force, into the impetus for greater good. A wanderer lost in the desert achieves a thirst for water that no dweller in civilization can experience or even imagine; by the same token, the transgressor lost in the ruins of his destroyed world possesses a yearning for G-d that no tzaddik can attain. By unleashing this yearning and channeling it to agitate his life, the returned transgressor can achieve things that are beyond the capacity of the most perfect tzaddik.

The potential for teshuvah is not part of the “plan.” It comes about as a result of a violation of the divine will, as something that should never have happened; the Talmud even states that “One who says ‘I shall sin and repent’ is not given the opportunity to repent.”[9] It is not integral to the structure of creation—indeed, this structure must be devastated for teshuvah to be possible. When it does take place, a new element is introduced into G-d’s world: an element that transcends the ten utterances, transcends the Ten Commandments, relating instead to the primordial possibility of a one-dimensional reality (“it could have been created with a single utterance”) in which there are no “blueprints” or “structures,” no ten-dimensional codes or characters, no diametric realms of good and evil. A reality in which there is nothing save the singular, all-embracing truth of G-d, a truth in which darkness, too, is a source of light, and “evil” is but another opportunity for good.

The baal teshuvah thus destroys the world not once, but twice. First he destroys it in the negative sense, violating the divine order of creation. Then he destroys it in the positive sense, transcending its bounds and obliterating its numerical limits.

This is the deeper significance of the two reasons our mishnah gives for G-d’s creation of the world with ten utterances: a) “to exact payment from the transgressors who destroy a world created with ten utterances”;  and b) “to better reward the righteous who sustain a world created with ten utterances.”

One reason G-d formulated a ten-point code of do’s and don’ts for life on earth and created a world that is structured upon this code, is that he desired that man lead a righteous life, sustaining the divine order in creation and realizing its divine perfection  (reason “b” in the mishnah).

But G-d also had a deeper motive: He formulated this decimal structure in order that it be destroyed. In what King David calls “His awesome plot upon the human race,”[10] G-d made man vulnerable to evil so that man’s failings should impel him to surmount the created state, surmount the bilateral, ten-dimensional edifice of right and wrong. He created a world in which every sin has a price—in which the soul of man must experience the agony of disconnection from its source, so that its pain should fuel its quest for even deeper connection. (Thus the mishnah uses the expression “to exact payment” (lehipara), instead of “to punish” or the like—to emphasize that it is not speaking of a divine desire to avenge Himself of the wicked, but to provoke man to teshuvah in “payment” for his wrongs.)

This is G-d’s “first” reason: a motive that stems from a deeper place in the divine motive for creation—from the singular, “one utterance” level that precedes His desire for a ten-utterance world.

Based on an address by the Rebbe, Tammuz 12, 5742 (July 3, 1982)[11]

Woman’s Work

In the forty-four years of his leadership, the Rebbe delivered thousands of talks, totaling tens of thousands of hours. One might therefore think that much of his teachings still awaits publication. In actuality, the very opposite is true: over the years, virtually every word that passed his lips has been meticulously recorded by his disciples. In addition, hundreds of talks have been edited, annotated, translated and adapted in a great variety of publications and other media. In all, more than two hundred volumes of his talks have been published to date. Thus, a hitherto unpublished talk of the Rebbe’s is a rare find. One such treasure was recently discovered in the Rebbe’s library.

In the summer of 1953, a group of six Worcester women made the seven-hour (in those pre-interstate days) trip to New York to meet with the Rebbe. The Rebbe received them in his study, and addressed them briefly. One of the participants was a nurse, and this most likely prompted the Rebbe’s use of her profession as an analogy and demonstration of the idea he conveyed to them in his talk.

The Rebbe spoke in Yiddish, but he asked Mrs. Rochele Fogelman, who headed the group, to make an English transcript of his remarks. Mrs. Fogelman did so, and sent her only copy of the transcript to the Rebbe. Nearly forty-three years later, the transcript was discovered in the Rebbe’s library. The Rebbe had added the month and year “Tammuz 5713” (June-July 1953) at the top of the page, and the words “transcript of talk to the women from Worcester,” but had otherwise made no notes or corrections. What follows is a lightly-edited version of this transcript.

The Torah places much emphasis on the responsibility of one Jew for the spiritual welfare of his or her fellows. A Jew is charged to foster in his fellow Jews a closeness to Torah, and to impart to them a love for yiddishkeit so that they should eagerly and cheerfully abide by its precepts and practices.

While this task is incumbent upon both men and women, it is the woman who possesses the greater capacity—and thus carries the greater share of the responsibility—to achieve it. Generally speaking, there are two methods that might be employed when seeking to influence human behavior: stern rebuke, or gentle, kindly words. The way of Torah is the way of shalom, peace, and kiruv, drawing close; G-d is good, and it is His desire that those who do His work apply themselves with kindness and love. Because the woman has been blessed with an innately tender and sympathetic nature, her character is akin to and expressive of the Torah ideal of compassionate kiruv; thus, she possesses a greater capacity to influence her fellow Jews to perfect their behavior in accordance with the way of Torah.

The human being possesses both a body and a soul. The Jew sees the body and the soul as interrelated, indeed bound together. Thus, by examining the way things are regarding a physical phenomenon, we gain insight into its spiritual counterpart.

When a person is ill, he consults a doctor. The doctor, who understands the physical workings of the body, diagnoses the nature of the illness and prescribes treatment. If the case warrants, hospital care is recommended. But the organization of the hospital is such that, whereas the doctor prescribes the treatment, the nurse is the one who usually administers it. Regarding this, it may be noted that nursing is predominantly a woman's profession—a fact readily discernible in hospitals, where, with only rare exceptions, the nurses are women. This reflects the fact that women are inherently suited to nursing. With their natural tenderness and patience, they can sweeten a bitter-tasting medicine and make a most difficult medical procedure more tolerable.

The same is true regarding the care of the soul. If a Jew suffers from a deficiency in his spiritual health, it becomes necessary to treat him so that he may be cured.  To procure a remedy for his spiritual ills, one must consult the authority that, like the doctor who is the expert for the body’s needs, knows and understands the needs of the soul. For the Jew, these needs are embodied by the Torah and its mitzvot. But the expert who diagnoses and prescribes the treatment is not necessarily the one who is best suited to administer it. Thus we come to the role of the spiritual “nurse”—an individual with the compassion, sensitivity and patience that the task requires.

As is the case regarding physical medicine, the woman has been blessed with a character that makes her optimally suited to serve as a spiritual “nurse”—one who draws one’s fellow Jews closer to Torah with kindness, benevolence, gentleness and love. A woman's strength is such that she can prevail upon others to fulfill the mitzvot—including those mitzvot that might, on the surface, seem difficult or “bitter-tasting”— with willing acceptance and joy.

A woman’s first responsibility is to the spiritual care of her family. But, as the Baal Shem Tov would say, all Jews are brothers and sisters. Thus, her “nursing” efforts should extend beyond the confines of her immediate family to encompass any and all of her fellow Jews.

May you and your families have a healthy, happy summer. May you have happy Jewish, Chassidic homes, such that they may stand out as an example thereof.  Turn Worcester into a Chassidic city, so that from Chicago to Philadelphia to Pittsburgh all will have heard of, and point to, Worcester as an example of a Chassidic city. May you realize much nachas from your children: Jewish nachas, nachas that you readily perceive and enjoy.

Please extend my regards to your husbands.

Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber