July 7th, 2015
A match was proposed that would unite the leaders of two great Chassidic communities: the grandson of Rabbi Israel of Ruzhin for the daughter of Rabbi Tzvi of Rimanov. A meeting was arranged between the Ruzhiner and the Rimanover to discuss the proposal.
“I have always maintained,” began the Ruzhiner, “that yichus (lineage) is the most important factor to consider in a marriage proposal. Allow me, then, to tell you of our family’s origins.
“My great-grandfather was the Great Maggid, Rabbi DovBer of Mezheritch. My grandfather was his son, Rabbi Avraham ‘the Angel.’ My great-uncle was Rabbi Nachum of Chernobyl, and my uncle was his son, Rabbi Motteleh.
“Now,” urged Rabbi Israel, “tell us something of your yichus.”
Said Rabbi Tzvi of Rimanov: “My parents passed away when I was a lad of ten, so I don’t know much about them. My relatives apprenticed me to a tailor, who raised me and taught me a trade. In the five years I was with him, I learned two things which guide my life to this day: mend the old, and take care not to ruin the new.”
The Ruzhiner smiled broadly and exclaimed: “A most worthy match! A most worthy match!” and called for l’chaim and refreshments to celebrate the union.
Tags: Secrets, story, marriage, family, traditions
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July 7th, 2015
On Sunday afternoons, the Rebbe would stand outside the door of his office to greet and bestow a blessing upon anyone who came to see him. He would often stand for hours as thousands of people filed by, many of them seeking a blessing or advice about a personal matter or spiritual dilemma. The Rebbe was once asked how he had the strength to stand all day, sometimes for seven or eight hours, to accommodate everyone. The Rebbe beamed and replied: “When you’re counting diamonds, you don’t get tired.[1]“
As the recent Florida election scenario amply illustrated, you don’t count until you’re counted. As the almost comical count and recount saga played itself out, many previously unknown individuals suddenly found themselves, or rather their votes, playing center stage in a riveting national drama. People came to an abrupt realization that they mattered, not only in a negligible sense but also in a very profound way, with serious repercussions for all of society.
The Torah portion of Shmot begins with a count of Jacob, his sons and their families, seventy in number, who came down to Egypt[2]: “Now these are the names of the sons of Israel who came into Egypt with Jacob; every man and his household they came. Reuben, Simeon, Levi and Judah, Issachar, Zebulun and Benjamin, Dan and Naphtali, Gad and Asher. And all the souls …were seventy souls.”
The narrative then describes how “the Children of Israel were fruitful, increased abundantly, and became very strong.”[3] The Jewish population in Egypt, from a mere seventy souls, experienced a phenomenal growth spurt, to become such a strong and mighty nation that they threatened the security of Pharoah’s Egypt. This verse, then, provides a likely reason for the count, to demonstrate the stark contrast between the Jewish people’s original modest number and subsequent remarkable increase.
Rashi, in his commentary on this verse, seems to suggest an additional reason for the count[4]: “Although [G-d] counted them by their names in their lifetime[5], He counted them again after their death, to make known how precious they are to Him. For they are compared to the stars, which He brings out and brings in by number and by their names, as it says: “He who takes out their hosts by number; He calls them by name[6]“.
What puzzles Rashi is why it is necessary to repeat the names of the sons of Jacob, who were already mentioned previously at the end of the book of Genesis. If the Torah wished to point out that the Jewish people increased in number, it would have only been necessary to relate that they numbered seventy, yet the twelve tribes are mentioned by name as well. Rashi therefore asserts that the names of Jacob’s sons are listed for the sole purpose of expressing G-d’s love for them.
If so, it appears that it is the mention of their names, rather than their number, that expresses G-d’s love, for the counting was repeated for a different purpose – to underscore their tremendous increase. In fact, the only names mentioned are that of the twelve tribes, while the number seventy includes also their children and grandchildren. Yet Rashi says in his commentary that “He counted them after their death, to make known how precious they are to Him”. The seventy descendents were counted “each man and his household[7]“, as an extension of the twelve sons of Jacob, indicating that the count was primarily focused on the sons of Jacob. Rashi therefore concludes that both the count and the mention of the names of Jacob’s sons displayed G-d’s love for them.
The counting and naming of objects confer significance and importance upon them. A child with a treasured rock or stamp collection will spend hours sifting through it, repeatedly counting each prized unit. The child might even apply a name to an especially valued or beloved item in the collection. Giving a name to an object raises it to an even higher level of regard and esteem. The name indicates that the thing possesses qualities so outstanding that it merits special recognition for itself.
The Jewish people are compared to the stars, G-d’s celestial jewels, which are lovingly counted each night, and set out by name. In the morning they are gathered in and once again counted by name. A count of stars focuses on the quality of a star that is common to all – namely its essence, its identity as a star. Thus each star is counted as no more or less than any other star. Being called by a name, though, delineates the star’s unique characteristics: its particular glow and beauty, as well as the spiritual qualities that emanate from it.
So too, each Jew has an essential soul, the “star” within, which makes us all equally great and precious before G-d. At the same time, each soul has unique qualities, which are reflected in a person’s name. Counting emphasizes the essential, indivisible quality that we all share, while being named highlights our individual strengths and attributes.
Being both counted and named reveals the essence of the individual, beyond his outer appearance. When the Jewish people are counted, the greatest and most distinguished is counted exactly the same as the most lowly and abject. Both contain an essential soul, which “are all equal, with one father for all.[8]” The name of a Jew also has a relationship to his essential soul. A human being carries the same name over the course of his entire lifetime – from when he is a vulnerable newborn to when he is a fully developed, accomplished adult. Thus, the name of a person is not connected to any of his external abilities, but to his inner character, which may still be latent within him. It is the mission of each person to reveal this dormant strength and utilize it towards positive achievements. Therefore, the inner beauty of the person must be made known to him, so that he can take advantage of his potent essential power to carry out his purpose. This is achieved through “counting by name”. Through this process, a person’s previously concealed strengths are revealed, so that they can be utilized for the maximum benefit of all of creation.
Although both counting and naming are relevant to the person’s essence, each addresses a different level of the soul. A count reveals each soul’s essence as it exists in the celestial spheres before its descent to earth. In the heavenly realm, every soul is indeed the equal of any other soul, for it has not yet been enclothed in the body that gives it its unique attributes. The name is given to the soul once it has descended to earth; a soul in the heavenly realms has no name. So the name is only a reflection of the soul’s essence after it has descended into the body. Being “counted by name” causes the soul’s essential quality, which is above the body and above a name, to illuminate the person from within the body.
The Book of Shmos begins: “These are the names of the Children of Israel who came to Egypt[9]“. Egypt is a symbol of the soul’s descent to earth. “Counting by name” is done prior to the soul’s descent to Earth, to give the soul the powers it needs to overcome any and all limitations imposed by the concealment of the corporeal world. The “counted” element of the soul has an advantage over its “named” element in the sense that it is transcendent, universal and indivisible. Yet the person carries out his mission in this world by virtue of the “named” element in his soul – the unique energies and abilities that he contributes to the world. Through these efforts, the essential soul itself achieves an elevation.
This is the significance of the sons of Jacob being counted[10] “in life and after death[11]“. Just as the stars are counted by name “when set out and when brought in”, the souls are counted at birth and after death. The first counting, “when set out” on the journey to earth, gives the soul, as it is enclothed in a body, the fortitude to withstand the negative and evil forces of the physical world. Through this initial investment of energy from the transcendent element of the soul, the person engages on his mission. The count is then repeated “when brought in”, upon the death of the person. This time, it is the “named”, or embodied element of the soul that elevates the soul’s essence.
Whether we are consciously aware of it or not, G-d continues to count each person by name, thereby infusing us with the spiritual energy to complete our unique mission in this world. Each person counts no more and no less than anyone else, but each individual has something to share that no one else possesses. We are all reflections of a single and indivisible essential soul. So too, are we are all dependent on each other to complete the elevation of that essential soul. Even one positive action by one individual can bring deliverance to the entire universe[12]. Each individual has a “vote” and a say, and no votes go uncounted, towards achieving the ultimate objective, which is the complete redemption, through our righteous Moshiach.
Based on address by the Rebbe, Shmot, 5725 (1965) [13]. By Chaya Shuchat.
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[1] Foreword to “Diamonds of the Rebbe”, Mordechai Staiman
[5] Genesis 35:22-26, 46:8-27
[10] Although each Jew has unique characteristics, there are twelve basic prototypes, encapsulated by the twelve tribes, from which every Jewish soul derives. Each soul has a root in one of the twelve tribes, with a spiritual service that is in line with that tribe’s divine attributes. Therefore the verse emphasizes the count and names of the sons of Jacob, as they include all of the Jewish people.
[12] Maimonides, Mishne Torah, Hilchot Tshuva, 3:7
[13] Likkutei Sichot vol.6 Shmos 1, pp 1-12
Tags: Egypt, G-d's love, names, counting, Rebbe
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July 7th, 2015
When Napoleon’s armies approached Liadi in the summer of 1812, Rabbi Schneur Zalman, who had been active in his support of the Czar against the French emperor,[17] was forced to flee. The Rebbe left Liadi with sixty wagons carrying his extended family and many of his Chassidim, escorted by a troupe of soldiers attached to his convoy by express order from the Czar.
The Rebbe rode in the third wagon. In the first wagon sat the Rebbe’s grandson, Rabbi Nachum, with two military officers. Whenever they would arrive at a crossroads, the entire procession would halt while Rabbi Nachum walked to the third wagon to ask Rabbi Schneur Zalman which way to proceed. At times, the Rebbe would reply without moving from his seat; other times, he would walk to the crossroads, lean on his staff, and meditate for a while before issuing his directive.
On one occasion, Rabbi Nachum erred in his understanding of the Rebbe’s instruction, and the convoy took the opposite turn. When the error was revealed, Rabbi Schneur Zalman instructed that they continue along the road already taken, but said with great regret in his voice: “How fortunate it is when the grandson follows the grandfather; how unfortunate it is when the grandfather must follow the lead of the grandson.”
Many trials and tribulations followed that wrong turn in the road, culminating in the passing of Rabbi Schneur Zalman that winter in the town of Pyena.
Adapted from the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe by Yanki Tauber.
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[17]. See WIR, vol. VI, no. 26.
Tags: security, war, Communist Russia, mistake, safety, Yanki Tauber, divine providence, Alter Rebbe
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July 7th, 2015
And Pharaoh commanded his entire nation: Every son that is born you shall throw into the river, and every daughter you shall make live
Exodus 1:22
Pharaoh did not say to let the Jewish girls live; he commanded to make them live (techayun, in the Hebrew).
Pharaoh’s decree of annihilation against the Jewish people consisted of two parts: to throw every Jewish newborn male into the Nile, and to “make live” every female. The boys were to be physically murdered. The girls were to be murdered spiritually by making them live the Egyptian life, by indoctrinating them into the perverse lifestyle of Egypt.
The boys were to be drowned in the Nile. The girls, too, were to be drowned in the Nile—conceptually, if not actually. The Nile, which irrigated the fields of rain-parched Egypt, was the mainstay of its economy and its most venerated god. The girls were to be raised in this cult of the river, their souls drowned in a life that deifies the earthly vehicle of material sustenance.
Today, thirty-four centuries after Pharaoh’s decree, the practice of drowning children in the Nile is still with us: there are still parents whose highest consideration in choosing a school for their children is how it will further their child’s economic prospects when the time will come for him to enter the job market. The people of Israel survived the Egyptian galut (exile) because there were Jewish mothers who refused to comply with Pharaoh’s decree to submerge their children in his river. If we are to survive the present galut, we, too, must resist the dictates of the current “Pharaohs.” We must set the spiritual and moral development of our children—rather than their future “earning power” and “careers”—as the aim of their education.
Based on the Rebbe’s talks, Passover 5712 (1952) and 5714 (1954)[19].
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[19]. Likkutei Sichot, vol. I, pp. 111-113.
Tags: Egyptian slavery, meaning, wealth, education, Rebbe, money, transformation, spiritual and material, purpose
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July 7th, 2015
Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov once said to his disciples:
There once lived two neighbors, a Torah scholar and an impoverished laborer. The scholar would wake before dawn, rush to the study hall and study for several hours. He would then pray at length and with great devotion, hurry home for a quick bite of breakfast, and return to the study hall for more hours of study. After the noon meal he would go to market and engage in some minimal dealing–just enough to earn him his basic needs–then back to the study hall. After evening prayers and the evening meal, he would again sit over the sacred books till late into the night.
His neighbor would also wake early, but his situation did not allow for much Torah study: no matter how hard he struggled to earn a living, he barely succeeded in putting bread on the table. He would pray quickly with the first minyan at daybreak, and then his labor would consume his entire day and the greater part of his night. On Shabbat, when he finally had the opportunity to take a book in his hands, he would soon drop off from exhaustion.
When the two neighbors would pass each other in the yard, the scholar would throw the crass materialist a look of contempt and hurry on to his holy pursuits. The poor laborer would sigh and think to himself: how unfortunate is my lot, and how fortunate is his. We’re both hurrying—but he’s rushing to the study hall, while I’m off to my mundane burdens.
Then, it came to pass that the two men concluded their sojourn on earth and their souls stood before the heavenly court, where the life of every man is weighed upon the balance scales of divine judgement. An advocate-angel placed the scholar’s many virtues in the right cup of the balance scales: his many hours of Torah study, his meditative prayers, his frugality and honesty. But then came the prosecuting angel, and placed a single object on the other side of the scales—the look of contempt that the scholar would occasionally send his neighbor’s way. Slowly, the left side of the scales began to dip, until it equaled, and then exceeded, the formidable load on the right.
When the poor laborer came before the heavenly court, the prosecutor loaded his miserable, spiritually void life on the left scales. The advocating angel had but one weight to offer—the sorrowful sigh the laborer would emit when he encountered his learned neighbor. But when placed on the right side of the scales, the sigh counterweighted everything on the negative side, lifting and validating every moment of hardship and misery in the laborer’s life.
Tags: business, Baal Shem Tov, love your neighbor, spiritual and material, understanding
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July 7th, 2015
Before they could become a people, chosen by G-d as His “light unto the nations,”[12] the children of Israel had to first undergo the “smelting pit of Egypt.”[13] For 210 years they were “strangers in a land that is not theirs,” the last eighty-six of which they were inducted into forced labor by the Egyptians, primarily in the manufacture of bricks.[14]
Why bricks? Nothing is incidental in G-d’s world, particularly in the history of His people. If we were forged as a nation at the brick kilns of Egypt, then the brick is significant to our mission in life.
“And the brick served them as stone”
Man is a builder. Some build physical structures: homes, cities, roads, hi- or low-tech machines, and a host of other useful (or useless) objects. Others engage in more metaphysical construction, structuring words, hues or sounds so that they house ideas or feelings. But all build a life, forging materials from their environment, their society and their own psyche into an edifice that serves a certain function and aim. Man being endowed by his Creator with free choice, he might make this a material or spiritual aim, a selfish or altruistic one, a positive or negative one; or he can make it the ultimate aim of “building a dwelling for G-d”[15] by devoting his life to the fulfillment of G-d’s will as revealed in the Torah.
The materials we use fall under two general categories: G-d-given and man-made. Much of what we build our lives with was already here when we arrived on the scene, ready for use, or with its potential implicit in it, awaiting discovery and realization. But G-d empowered us to do more than simply develop His world. Desiring that we be His “partners in creation,”[16]He imparted to us the ability to create potential where no such potential exists.
Therein lies the deeper significance of the bricks we molded and fired as we matured as a people. In the eleventh chapter of Genesis, the Torah describes the invention of the brick:
Originally, the survivors of the Flood inhabited mountainous regions, and quarried stone as a building material; but then they settled in the valley of Shinar (later Babylon), where they desired to build “a city and a tower whose head reached to the heavens.” Where would they find a material strong enough for such a massive structure? Someone had an idea: “They said one to the other ‘Let us mold bricks, and bake them with fire.’ And the brick served them as stone, and clay served them as mortar.”[17]
The “stone” represents those materials with which G-d provides us to build our lives. Not that man needn’t toil—the stone must be cut from the mountain, transported, hewn into shape, and fitted with many others for a structure to be raised. But the stone is there, solid and fit for the task, awaiting development. In our personal lives, these are the elements that are naturally qualified to serve as part of a home for G-d and readily lend themselves to this end: our positive character traits, the sacred times and places in creation (e.g. the twenty-four hours of Shabbat, the Holy Land), objects and forces designated for the performance of a mitzvah (e.g. a Torah scroll, a pair of tefillin).
Then there are those elements that are as qualified a building material as raw clay: our selfish and animalistic instincts, and a material world that obscures the truth of its Creator. Elements that, by nature, are unconducive, or even contrary, to anything good and G-dly. To include these elements in the “dwelling for G-d” we make of our lives, we must forge bricks: knead and mold them into a shape they have never known, fire them in the kiln of self-sacrifice and love of G-d, until they become as solid and supportive as the sacred “stones” in our edifice.
Based on an address by the Rebbe, Shabbat Shemot, 5726 (January 15, 1966) and on other occasions[18].
Adapted from the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe by Yanki Tauber.
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[14]. See Exodus 1:14 and 5:7-19; Midrash Rabbah, Bamidbar 15:16.
[15]. “G-d desired a dwelling in the physical world” (Midrash Tanchuma, Nasso 16); “This is what man is all about; this is the purpose of his creation, and the creation of all worlds, supernal and ephemeral” (Tanya, ch. 36).
[16]. Talmud, Shabbat 10a; ibid., 119b
[18]. Likkutei Sichot, vol. VI, pp. 13-25.
Tags: partnership, Egyptian slavery, Yanki Tauber, Rebbe, creation
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July 6th, 2015
Said Rabbi Acha: The talk of the servants of the Fathers is more desirable than the Torah of the children. For Eliezer’s story is twice recounted by the Torah, while many principles of Torah law are communicated only through allusion
The Midrash[1]
Human beings love to talk. At times, it seems that we hardly trust a thought or feeling to be our own until we have communicated it to others. To this end, we have invented hundreds of languages and dozens of media—all to say what we feel needs saying.
Indeed, our capacity for self-expression lies at the very heart of our humanity. In the second chapter of Genesis, the Torah describes the creation of man: “And the L-rd G-d formed man [from] the dust of the earth, and He blew into his nostrils the breath of life. And man became a living soul.”[2] Onkelos, in his Aramaic translation/commentary on the Torah, translates the words “And man became a living soul,” as “And man became a speaking spirit.” In the philosophical and Kabbalistic works of our sages, man is called “the speaker.” (The entirety of creation is divided into four realms or “kingdoms”: domem, the “silent” or inanimate creations; tzome’ach, “growing” things; chai, the animal world; and medaber, the speaker—man).
Would it not have been more fitting to define man by his intelligence or spirituality? Of course, the ability to communicate is a mark of intelligence. It is also an indication of “spirituality”—of the ability to transcend the self and relate to something other, different and even opposite than it. But there are other human faculties that exhibit these traits. The fact that man is named “the speaker” implies that the faculty of speech is the essential component of our purpose and mission in life.
Toil of the Mouth
The centrality of speech to man’s purpose in creation is also expressed in the following Talmudic passage:
Said Rabbi Elazar: Every man was created in order to toil, as it is written, “For man is born to toil.”[3] I still do not know, however, if he was created for the toil of the mouth or for the toil of work; when the verse says, “[The toiling soul…] his mouth compels him,”[4] this tells me that he was created for the toil of the mouth. I still do not know, however, if he was created for the toil of Torah or for the toil of speech; when the verse says, “This book of Torah should not depart from your mouth,”[5] this tells me that he was created for the toil of Torah.[6]
An important rule in Torah learning is that when a supposition is introduced by the sages, it remains a valid hypothesis even after it has been “rejected” in favor of another. For the very fact that it has been presented as a possibility implies that it is true, on some level. Ideas to which there is no truth on any level are not entertained in the first place (thus, Rabbi Elazar does not begin by saying, “I do not know if man was created for toil or for relaxation; when the verse says, ‘For man is born to toil,’ I know that he was created for toil”—as he does with the other “rejected” suppositions). If we apply this to the above passage, it means that all three “toils”—the “toil of work,” the “toil of speech,” and the “toil of Torah”—are part of man’s purpose; it is only that the “toil of the mouth” expresses a higher aspect of this purpose than the “toil of work,” and that within the “toil of the mouth,” the “toil of Torah” is loftier than the “toil of speech.”
What, exactly, are these three “toils”? What, in particular, is the “toil of speech,” and why is it greater than the “toil of work,” yet not as lofty as the “toil of Torah”?
The Spoken World
“From my flesh I perceive G-d,”[7] proclaims the verse. Since G-d created us in His image,[8] we can contemplate His “personality” (i.e., the manner in which He relates to creation) by examining the workings of our own souls. The reverse is also true: by examining what the Torah tells us about how G-d relates to our existence, we can understand much about the human personality and man’s place in creation.
In describing the divine act of creation, the Torah does not say that G-d made a world, but that He spoke it. “G-d said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light”[9]; “G-d said, ‘Let the earth sprout forth vegetation…’ and it was so”[10]; and so with all other creations, each of which is contained, explicitly or implicitly, in the “Ten Utterances” with which G-d created the world.[11]
For in creating the world, G-d was doing what we do when we speak: He was communicating. He was projecting of Himself to an “audience”—to a reality which (at least in its own perception) is outside of Him. As we do when we speak, G-d wished to see His own “thoughts” and “feelings” take form in a consciousness and perception other than His own.
When we speak, we emulate G-d’s speaking the world into being. We, too, create. We, too, extend ourselves beyond the reality of our own existence to recreate ourselves and our vision of reality in the minds, hearts and deeds of others.
Effort
If we understand “speech,” both in G-d and in ourselves, as synonymous with “creativity,” we begin to understand why the “toil of speech” is central to our uniqueness as human beings. But first, let us examine the statement, “Man is born to toil.”
This, of course, is a fact of life, as well as of human nature—we experience as meaningful and satisfying only that which we have gained by effort and struggle. If a person is not compelled to work for a living, he will embark on endeavors in which he must exert himself to achieve some goal. “Retirement” invariably withers both body and mind unless one starts a second career or challenges oneself in some other way. An effortless life is ultimately a life not worth living. In the words of our sages, unearned gifts are “bread of shame” which bring no satisfaction to their recipient.[12]
Why, indeed, was man made this way? Certainly G-d, who is the essence of good, who is benevolent and merciful,[13] could just as easily have created a world that is free of hardship, and have formed the nature of man so that life in such a world is meaningful and fulfilling. Why did He create man to toil and endow him with a nature that thrives only on struggle and challenge?
But in an effortless world, man would be nothing more than a passive beneficiary of G-d’s gifts. He might derive satisfaction and pleasure from these gifts (were his nature so inclined), but his role in creation would be limited to that of recipient. Unless he were driven to toil—driven to acquire and achieve beyond what comes to him without difficulty—he could not be the “partner with G-d in creation”[14] that G-d desires him to be.
We experience effort and toil when our deeds are met with resistance, when they are at variance with the status quo. An effortless deed is a deed that is fully consistent with the present constellation of forces in the universes; a deed that isn’t challenged by anything because it changes nothing. A deed that, even if it is conducted with great fanfare, does not, in truth, do anything.
Toil defines the point at which we cease to be mere recipients, accepting the world as it is, and begin to be givers and contributors to G-d’s world. The point at which we contest the present reality and begin acting as G-d’s partners in the endeavor to build the world He desires.
Development, Creativity and Transcendence
On the most basic level, we achieve partnership with G-d through the “toil of work”—through our ongoing efforts to develop the resources of creation. Each time we plow and seed the earth to coax nourishment from it; each time we forge wood, stone and other materials into a home; each time we distill energy from matter; we are working. This is toilsome work, for we are combating the inert state of these “raw” materials. It is G-dly work, for we are furthering His enterprise of forming an ordered and civilized world out of an initial state of “chaos and formlessness.”[15] We are fulfilling the divine will expressed in the verse: “He did not create [the world] for chaos; He created it that it be settled.”[16]
This, however, is the most rudimentary level of partnership with G-d: we contribute to G-d’s work but are only involved at a lower, secondary plane. The innovative and creative aspects of the endeavor are solely the domain of the “senior partner,” while our role is limited to furthering what He has initiated. G-d, after all, created the world, while we only develop what He has created.
A higher level of partnership is achieved when we introduce our “speech”—our capacity for creativity—into our involvement with G-d’s world. When we redefine reality by communicating our experience of it to others. When we speak worlds into being, as G-d spoke the world into existence. On this level, we are partners with Him not only in that we are both contributors, but also in that we are both creators.
This level of partnership, which the Talmud calls “toil of the mouth,” consists of two elements: the “toil of speech” and the “toil of Torah.”
Mirroring the Ten Utterances of creation are the Ten Commandments spoken by G-d at Sinai. If the Ten Utterances are the “source code” of the natural world, the Ten Commandments are the essence of a higher reality—the reality of Torah. The Torah embodies a divine vision of reality which supersedes the natural reality: a reality of unadulterated goodness and perfection; a reality that is a consummate actualization of the divine will.
The Ten Utterances derive from the Ten Commandments, for the natural world, which was designed as the environment within which the Torah is to be realized, draws its essence and raison d’etre from the Torah; yet they are a lowlier and coarser expression of the divine self-expression. The Zohar goes so far as to refer to the Ten Utterances as “mundane words” in relation to the sublime words of the Ten Commandments, saying that it is beneath G-d, so to speak, to utter the world into being, as “it is not the way of the King to engage in mundane talk.”[17]
Thus the Talmud distinguishes between two areas of human creativity: the “toil of speech,” which are our creative efforts within the context of the natural world (“speech” being a reference to the Ten Utterances), and the “toil of Torah”—the effort to impose a higher, supra-natural reality upon the world by implementing the divine will, as expressed in the commandments of the Torah, in our daily lives.[18]
G-d in the Details
And yet, the Midrash also states that “The speech of the servants of the fathers is more desirable than the Torah of the children.”
In the 24th chapter of Genesis, the Torah relates the story of the journey of Abraham’s servant, Eliezer, to Mesopotamia to find a bride for Abraham’s son, Isaac. We read how Abraham summons Eliezer and sends him on his mission, instructing him to choose a bride from the family of Abraham’s brother, Nachor. Eliezer arrives in Mesopotamia and prays to G-d, asking for His guidance in finding a worthy bride for his master’s son. He then devises a sign: the maiden who, when asked for a drink of water, will offer to draw water for his camels as well, is the one destined to marry Isaac. Rebecca appears and fulfills all the requirements of the sign; when Eliezer asks after her family, he learns that she is a granddaughter of Nachor. The servant thanks G-d for “leading me on the path to the home of my master’s brother.”
Eliezer is invited to the home of Rebecca’s family. At this point, we read all the details of the events of that day for a second time—this time in Eliezer’s words, as he relates them to Rebecca’s family. The point of the story, once again, is the show of divine providence in the affairs of man. “The matter has been ordained by G-d,” agree Bethuel and Laban, Rebecca’s father and brother. “We can say nothing, good or evil.”
This long (67-verse) chapter evokes much discussion by the sages. Not only is the Torah uncharacteristically detailed in its description, but it twice recounts the entire story almost verbatim. This, in a book so concise that many complex laws are derived from an extra word or letter! Hence the conclusion that the Torah prefers the conversations of our forefathers’ servants to the intricacies of Torah law addressed to and studied by their descendants.
Eliezer’s story is a classic example of the “toil of speech”—of the manner in which we apply our creative and communicative skills to create a world in partnership with G-d. A series of events takes place at the city well of Mesopotamian town and results in the marriage of a certain woman to a certain man. These are wholly natural[19] events, strung together by what is commonly described as “coincidence.” But Eliezer transforms these events into “speech”—into a cohesive and meaningful narrative. Eliezer tells how he prayed[20] to G-d for success, expressing his belief that what is about to unfold is G-d’s doing rather than “the blind workings of fate”; he asks for a sign, and presides over its fulfillment; he then tells the story to Bethuel and Laban, communicating to them what he has experienced and convincing them that “The matter has been ordained by G-d.” In Eliezer’s experience and telling, a piece of the natural world is defined as the handiwork of G-d, as an expression the Creator’s involvement with His creation.
Ultimately, the study and implementation of Torah law ranks higher in the hierarchy of “toils” than the seeking of G-d within the workings of creation. Through the “toil of speech,” one relates to the Creator only on the level of the Ten Utterances, whereas through Torah, one supersedes the natural reality, realizing a partnership with G-d that transcends the “mundane talk” of creation. Nevertheless, there is a specialty to the “toil of speech” that makes Eliezer’s story more desirable than “the Torah of the children.” G-d derives a special pleasure from His partnership with us as we go about our daily affairs, integrating Him into the most commonplace details of the narrative of our lives.
Based on the Rebbe’s talks on various occasions[21].
Adapted from the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe by Yanki Tauber
[1]. As cited by Rashi on Genesis 24:42; cf. Midrash Rabbah, Bereishit 60:8.
[6]. Talmud, Sanhedrin 99b.
[11]. See Ethics of the Fathers 5:1; Talmud, Rosh Hashanah 32a; Tanya, part II, ch. 1.
[12]. Cf. Talmud, Bava Metzia 38a; Jerusalem Talmud, Orlah 1:3; Likkutei Torah, Tzav 7d; et al.
[14] . Talmud, Shabbat 10a; et al.
[16]. Isaiah 45:18; cf. Midrash Rabbah, Bereishit 39:8.
[17]. Zohar, part III, 149b.
[18]. The “toil of speech” assumes its highest form in the endeavor of prayer, in which our material needs become the substance of our communication with G-d (see Talmud, Berachot 26b; Ohr HaTorah, Vayeishev 911a). But even this “spiritualization” of material life is within the context of the created reality, and is thus “mundane words” in relation to the “speech of Torah.”
[19]. A number of miracles, such as the supernatural speed at which Eliezer reached his destination, are alluded to in the Torah’s account, but these remain below the surface of Eliezer’s words.
[21]. Likkutei Sichot, vol. XX, pp. 330-335; vol. XV, pp. 93-99; vol. XXI, pp. 245-246.
Tags: Life's Challenges, purpose of life, speech, creation, Eliezer, toil
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July 6th, 2015
Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi told:
In Mezeritch, it was extremely difficult to be accepted as a disciple of our master, Rabbi DovBer.[7] There were a group of chassidim who, having failed to merit to learn directly from our master, wanted at least to serve his pupils: to bring them water to wash their hands upon waking, to sweep the floors of the study hall, to heat the ovens during the winter months, etc. These were known as “the oven stokers.”
One winter night, as I lay on a bench in the study hall, I overheard a conversation between three of the “oven stokers.”
“What was the specialty of the test of the Akeidah?” [8] the first one asked. “If G-d revealed Himself to me and commanded me to sacrifice my only son, would I not obey?”
Answering his own question, he said: “If G-d told me to sacrifice my only son, I would delay my doing so for a while, to keep him with me for a few days. Abraham’s greatness lay in that ‘he arose early in the morning’[9] to immediately fulfill the divine command.”
Said the second one: “If G-d told me to sacrifice my only son, I, like Abraham, would waste not a moment to carry out His command. But I would do so with a heavy heart. Abraham’s greatness lay in that he went to the Akeidah with a heart full of joy over the opportunity to fulfill G-d’s will.”[10]
Said the third: “I, too, would carry out G-d’s will with joy. I think that Abraham’s uniqueness lay in his reaction upon finding out that it was all a test. When G-d commanded him ‘Do not touch the child and do nothing to him,’[11] Abraham was overjoyed-not because his only child would not die, but over being given the opportunity to carry out another command of G-d: not to slaughter his son.”
Rabbi Schneur Zalman concluded: “Do you think this was mere talk? Each of them was describing the degree of self-sacrifice he had attained in his service of the Almighty.”
Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber.
_________________________________________
[7] The “Maggid of Mezeritch” (d. 1772), second leader of the Chassidic movement.
[8] The “Binding of Isaac” (Genesis 22): G-d’s testing of Abraham by commanding him to offer his son Isaac as a sacrifice.
[10] See Rashi’s commentary on Genesis 22:6.
Tags: Alter Rebbe, Chassidic stories, Abraham, akeidah, Mezerich
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July 3rd, 2015
Trouble in Zion
This week’s Torah chapter opens up with Moses’ begging G-d to allow him into the Promised Land. This article explores the personality of the first true Zionist and the greatest one of them all: Moses. And what we can learn from his passion in today’s crisis in Zion.
It’s time to create a new religion.
I knew that line would get your attention. Some of my “friends” would say “We knew it all along. The guy is a nutcase. He’s out to establish a new religion. He never had it in him to accept authority (kabolot ol) and embrace (or conform to) our tradition.” Others will tell me, “You have always been on the edge. But now you’ve gone over the line.” Yet others will berate me: “You’re into sensationalism. You just like to make noise and get attention.”
Now that I’ve aroused your interest, let me explain.
As Israel goes through an identity crisis and we wonder about the meaning of Zionism today (see last week’s The Death of Modern Zionism), one can’t help but be intrigued by Moses’ 515 prayers beseeching G-d to allow him to enter the Promised Land. “Please,” Moses pleads, “please let me cross [the Jordan] and allow me to see the good land.”
What drove this Divine man’s desire, the greatest man that ever lived, to enter Israel?! And why would G-d allow Moses to pray in vain 515 (!) times for a dream that would not be fulfilled?!
For that matter the same question can be asked about Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Sarah, Rivkah, Rochel and Leah, and so many other great men and women throughout history: Why were they so single-mindedly obsessed with the Promised Land?
And above all, the question is about G-d, Who promised the land in the first place to the children of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. What exactly did G-d have in mind with choosing this small parcel of land, which has evoked more wars over the span of history than any other piece of geography on this earth.
When Zion is embroiled in crisis, the best way to find direction is to retrace the steps of history, and look at the first pioneers who gave their lives to enter the Holy Land. Moses and before him Abraham are the first true Zionists – and much can be learned from their journey.
Essentially their quest was a spiritual one. In the Promised Land they recognized (as its name implies) the promise of their lives: the ability to achieve a full and complete integrated life. The Holy Land (as its name asserts) contained for them the purpose of all existence: To sanctify material life, and hallow the physical world and transform its matter into Divine energy.
The Promised Land was for Moses not a retirement village or a tourist attraction. It represented the essence, the very purpose of all life. He lived with the land and it lived within him – in every cell of his being. Such a man cannot rest, and will not stop praying to enter the land. Thus Moses pleads with G-d: “O G-d, What force is there in heaven or earth who can perform deeds and mighty acts as You do? Please let me cross” and enter the Promised Land.
But it was not to be. The sins of the people did not allow Moses to reach spiritual utopia.
Moses however, the true leader that he was, instructs the people how they can earn the right “to occupy the land that G-d is giving you.” Follow the Divine laws and rules, “Do not add…and do not subtract from the commandments.” By doing so you will merit to live peacefully in the Holy Land.
What about the other nations of the world? Without missing a beat, Moses continues:
“Protect and keep these laws, for this is your wisdom and understanding in the eyes of the nations. They will hear all these rules and say: ‘This great nation is certainly a wise and understanding people. What nation is so great that they have G-d close to it as G-d is when we call Him? What nation is so great that they have such righteous rules and laws?”
“Only take heed and watch yourselves very carefully, so that you do not forget the things that your eyes saw. Do not let [this memory] leave your hearts all the days of your lives. Teach your children and children’s children abut the day you stood before G-d at Horeb [Sinai]”.
Can you think of any words more prescient, more relevant to our times?
But let’s not jump ahead of ourselves. 3277 years have passed since Moses stood at the River Jordan and declared these words. These three and half millennia have shaped the world in which we live in today. To appreciate the power and the significance of Moses’ words today, we must put these years in context and understand how they have collectively shaped and colored virtually every aspect of life today.
The world of Moses was very different than our own. When Moses implored G-d to enter Israel, he was coming off of 40 difficult years of leading the people through a hostile wilderness, followed by eighty agonizing years under Egyptian bondage. As a man of G-d he was of the highest saintly caliber and saw the Promised Land as the ultimate destination of all spiritual endeavors. But at that point, the time had not yet come for Moses to enter the land.
That was then.
The big question is what happened in the interim? What transpired over these 3277 years that created the mess we are in today both in Israel and the world at large? Why do we find is do difficult to reach moral and spiritual clarity of the sort that Moses had mastered? What is the root of our own spiritual and emotional crisis, and overall lack of psychological seamlessness?
So let us turn history’s clock fast forward, and in sum we have the following story: The children of Abraham and Moses – the Jewish people – do end up settling Israel and building the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. But their peace is short lived. Ultimately, due to their own spiritual bankruptcy, inner strife and divisiveness, the two Temples are destroyed (by the Babylonians and Romans respectively) and the people are expelled from their land.
In the subsequent 1936 years, known as the Common Era, all of life changed in regard to religion and G-d. With the appropriate disclaimer of not wanting to sound over simplistic, the last two millennia can be broken into two general stages of religious history:
For the first 1500 years religion and monarchs ruled much of the world. Freedom and basic human rights as we know and cherish today simply did not exist. Individuality – so powerful of a force in contemporary life – was not seen as a virtue (see Individualism and G-d).
The primary point that is relevant to our discussion is that during this extended period corrupt and arrogant forces hijacked religion and G-d. For close to two millennia religious authorities dominated and wreaked havoc. Multitudes were killed in various religious crusades. First the Christians, then the Muslims determined that their Divine mission is to conquer the world with their beliefs, by sword if necessary.
Over the centuries this religious dominance took its toll. We can, and may, never fully understand our attitudes today to religion and G-d without deeply analyzing the damage endured by the abuse of religion over the centuries. Even one individual is irreparably scarred by religious (or any form of) abuse. How much more so the scars that we collectively carry by the religious forces that have affected the critical mass?
As a result of this authoritarianism and other factors, there was finally a backlash, which leads us into the next stage of religious history. Some ascribe the Enlightenment to this backlash; a reaction to years and years of relentless suppression of the individual spirit. Obviously, no change happens for one reason alone. Yet, no one can deny the powerful influence of religious control on the breakout of free spiritedness.
However, though driven by some healthy impulses, this rebellion also went too far in many circles. In face of the newfound science and freethinking atmosphere, religion began to be seen as at best an idea whose time had passed. It may have served the needs of a primitive people, but is no longer necessary in our rational world. Even if it serves the fragile human need for hope and comfort, religion, the Bible and all matters of faith feed the emotional part of us, and should not be seen as empirically true, as say, science. At worst, religion was denigrated as foolishness embraced only by imbeciles, not by any rational, logical person. Some even claim that religion is plain dangerous or even a form of psychosis.
In short, in the new progressive world, G-d was rendered either optional, unnecessary, irrelevant or non-existent.
Today many thinkers acknowledge that the Enlightenment went too far. The reason for going overboard may be justified due to the centuries of religious abuse. However, it’s still gone too far.
Why too far? Because it is clear – and becoming clearer each day – that rational science is not enough to live a wholesome life. We have spiritual needs, which are far deeper and more necessary to find meaning and higher purpose in life than any scientific pursuit. Indeed, some assert that science and spirituality complement each other, and should not be seen as two opposing forces.
Another case for religion is called ethical Monotheism. Morality needs to have an absolute, Divine backbone, lest it be rendered into an arbitrary, relativistic system driven by whims or consensus, which can often be quite horrendous (Nazi Germany is a blatant example).
Essentially, we are evolving into a much more sophisticated place regarding our attitudes to spirituality, religion and G-d.
But the battle still rages between the two extremes, and we are resultantly trapped today between both sides: Religious bigotry on one end and, its bastardized child, secular bigotry, as Edward Gibbon, the 18th century British historian jibed against those French thinkers who “preached the tenets of atheism with the bigotry of dogmatists.” Sadly, this line of thinking strongly influenced many so called emancipated Jews, which helped define some of the founding principles of Modern Zionism.
This distorted backlash – and the confusion resulting from being trapped between both extremes – lies at the heart of today’s confusion and crisis:
The fallacy – the tragic myth – of many of our contemporary secular leaders is that we can cut out the soul of life. Not Zionism, not Socialism, not religionism, not any of the isms, can survive without a soul.
Many of the Enlightenment – which influenced the founders of some of the isms – believed that with time religion would either die out, at least for the thinking elite, or it would be relegated as an “opiate for the masses,” for “la canaille” [the rabble], a phrase used in disdain by the French Enlightenment to denigrate the masses. Religion, Voltaire wrote to Diderot, “must be destroyed among respectable people and left to the canaille large and small, for whom it was made.”
They were half right: false religion would die. But not the real thing – which beats like a heart inside every fiber of existence.
Yes, many of the 17th, 18th and 19th century free thinkers did not believe that religion would be so alive today, albeit distorted. According to their grossly mistaken – and contemptuously condescending – viewpoint, Israel by now would have been a totally secular state; the Arab world would be moving toward secularism, as they embrace Western values, McDonalds and Coca Cola (not to forget Google and Microsoft), and some sort of vague democratic politics would be the governing force.
Well, wake up. It’s now early 21st century and religious passion is alive and well – often to our dismay. A billion plus Muslims will not let us forget that religion is a powerful force. Neither will over a billion Christians and billions of others who embrace various religious/spiritual beliefs.
Mind you, much of this religion still smacks of the bigotry and radical dogmatism of the last two millennia. But that doesn’t diminish its power. And on the other side we have the forces of Enlightenment, many of which take on an equally radical anti-religiosity.
And we are left crushed in the middle trying to pick up the pieces.
The only way out of this mess is to return to the beginning. Moses’ words say it all: Embrace your Divine calling and all nations will respect you. And this calling is so just that all nations will recognize that these are the most “righteous rules and laws.”
Indeed, I submit a bold premise: The exclusively secular version of Zionism or any ism will not fully respect the sacred, inalienable rights of all people, including the Arabs living in Israel and its surrounding territories. This also includes religionism: A distorted view of religion will always discriminate against others.
Ironically, or perhaps logically, the obnoxious elitists of the Enlightenment, in the name of their so-called forward “march of the human spirit,” felt a deep contempt for the masses. Diderot believed that we must distrust the judgment of the “multitude” in matters of reason and philosophy because “its voice is that of wickedness, stupidity, inhumanity, unreason and prejudice.” “The multitude,” he concluded, is “ignorant and stupefied.” As Tocqueville sardonically observed about the French, “I could mention several who despised the public almost as heartily as they despised the Deity.” They adored the human intellect and had supreme confidence in its power to transform laws, institutions, and customs. But the intellect they adored was only their own. This was very different, he added, from the respect shown by Englishmen and Americans for the opinions of the majority of their countrymen. “Their intellect is proud and self-reliant, but never insolent; and it has led to liberty, while ours has done little but invent new forms of servitude.” (See America Speaks).
The one and only way that all humans will be treated with the highest level of respect – is by embracing, as Moses spelled out so clearly, the highest standard of Divine law, a law that will be recognized for its “wisdom and understanding in the eyes of the nations.”
Interestingly, the Founding Fathers of the United States appeared to have grasped the need to balance the two forces – of the Divine and of personal liberty – in their Declaration of Independence:
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
So, my initial call for a new religion is actually about a religion that is not new at all. It is a universal belief system that was in place from the beginning of time. Our challenge is to transcend the distortion of history and go back to the original, presented by Moses.
As a group of great thinkers commented on a professor’s brilliant paper, “it’s both good and original.” Before the professor could celebrate, they added: “Problem is that the part that’s good is not original and the part that’s original is not good.”
You want to know what true lasting Zionism is? Don’t go to Theodor Herzl, Chaim Weizmann or Ben-Gurion. Go visit Moses, Abraham and the hundreds of others that gave their lives to enter the Land from the beginning of history. They will tell you what life’s mission is all about. They will explain to us the meaning of the Promised and Holy Land.
515 prayers is a big number. And Moses would have continued praying were it not for G-d telling him “enough.”
Our sages tell us that had Moses entered the Promised Land no destruction of the Temple would ever have been possible. So G-d, in effect, tells Moses: Sadly, the time had not yet come for Israel to be at peace. The world is not yet ready for you to enter the Holy Land. But do not dismay. Your prayers are not in vain. Each one of your 515 cries will help your people in generation to endure their growing pains as they earn their right to enter and settle the Holy Land.
Coming off the saddest day of the year (Tisha B’Av) when we relive the destruction of the Holy Temple and all subsequent destructions, we are profoundly consoled by reliving Moses’ passionate appeals. Standing on the shoulders of giants, we can today learn to merit our spiritual right to Zion.
What we need today is nothing less than a revolution. Not one that begins from the top (from the establishment), but from the grass roots.
We need to reject all the false gods and religions that have plagued us throughout history and continue to haunt us.
We must ask ourselves, as Moses reminds us this week: Have we forgotten the things our eyes have seen? Are we holding on to the spiritual memory in our hearts all the days of our lives? Are we teaching our children and children’s children abut the day we stood before G-d?
Are we demonstrating to the world that we are a great nation, a wise and understanding people; A nation close to G-d with the most beautiful righteous laws and guidelines?
Time has come to rediscover our eternal truths. Time has come to display the virtues Moses, so long ago, expected of us.
Time has come for the true G-d to rise.
Tags: purpose of life, Israel, anti-semitism, Law and Order, spiritual identity, zionism, Moses, redemption
Posted in Weekly Parsha, Israel, Ve'etchanan, Personal Life, Social, Devarim, Government, Pain & Suffering, Current Events | No Comments »
July 3rd, 2015
“Zion will be redeemed with Law and its captives with righteousness” (Isaiah 1:27. Haftorah of Shabbat Chazon)
As we approach the 1937th year since the Temple was destroyed in Jerusalem, Israel is still struggling with its own the identity and raison de’ etre. Modern Zionism and the birth of the State of Israel were driven by the dream of a Jewish homeland. But what now? Are we facing the death of Modern Zionism? What dream today drives the future? This week’s article addresses the critical need for a vision for the future of Israel.
Modern Zionism was born in the late 19th century. Its dream was establishing a homeland for the Jewish people.
By no means was this a simple process, nor did the meaning of Zionism ever achieve a consensus. Many arguments, pro and con, with broad variations of each, were debated then and continue to rage today. Labor, socialist, revisionist, political, agrarian, synthetic, utopian, nationalist, cultural, religious – are among the different shapes Zionism took on. And anti-Zionism too comes in various colors. [Yes, almost as many Jews that exist are the opinions they have on the meaning of Zionism!]
Even the Jewish return to a homeland was fraught with controversy. Some considered it a way to undermine Jewish proliferation, others saw it as a throwback to the past (and that the new “Zion” is America), and yet others felt that it was defying G-d.
But regardless of the varied opinions, from one extreme to the other, the fact remains that today there is a State of Israel with over 5 million Jews.
Today the question must be asked: Once the homeland has been established, what now? What dream carries Israel forward into the future?
Truth be told, this question was not ignored, perhaps in other terms, by some 19th century Jewish thinkers. Some say that Zev Jabotinsky was concerned with the long term picture when he argued for a more philosophical Zionist vision than that of the Labor Zionists.
To a greater extent Echad Ha’am (Asher Ginsberg), and one of his strong proponents, Martin Buber, rejected what they regarded as the over-emphasis of political Zionism on statehood, at the expense of the revival of Hebrew culture. Instead of Herzl’s brand of nationalistic political Zionism, they favored a Zionism based on the fundamental moral and spiritual values of Judaism. Zionism was to be part of the Jewish path to refine and bring about redemption of the world through establishment of truth and justice in all of the institutions and activities of the Jewish settlement in Israel. In this way Zionism could contribute to human civilization as a whole and avoid self-centered nationalism. Buber, in an essay titled Zionism and the Other National Concepts, argues strongly that the real meaning of “Zion” is a spiritual one – one bound with G-d and the sanctity of life.
“The secularizing trend in Zionism was directed against the mystery of Zion too. A people like other peoples, a land like other lands, a national movement like other national movements–this was and still is reclaimed as the postulate of common sense against every kind of “mysticism.” And from this standpoint, the age-long belief that the successful reunion of this people with this land is inseparably bound up with a command and a condition was attacked. No more is necessary–so the watchword runs–than that the Jewish people should be granted the free development of all its powers in its own country like any other people…
“The certainty of the generations of Israel testifies that this view is inadequate. The idea of Zion is rooted in deeper regions of the earth and rises into loftier regions of the air, and neither its deep roots nor its lofty heights, neither its memory of the past nor its ideal for the future, both of the selfsame texture, may be repudiated. If Israel renounces the mystery, it renounces the heart of reality itself. National forms without the eternal purpose from which they have arisen signify the end of Israel’s specific fruitfulness. The free development of the latent power of the nation without a supreme value to give it purpose and direction does not mean regeneration, but the mere sport of a common self-deception behind which spiritual death lurks in ambush. If Israel desires less than it is intended to fulfill, than it will even fail to achieve the lesser goal.”
And mind you, this coming from Martin Buber, someone not known for his religious piety.
Albert Einstein echoed this in his words:
“My awareness of the essential nature of Judaism resists the idea of a Jewish State, with borders, an army, and a measure of temporal power, no matter how modest. I am afraid of the inner damage Judaism will sustain.”
But even if these thinkers anticipated the problem of just focusing on the political and nationalistic dimension and not on the spiritual, the issue was never resolved.
One would have thought that the religious Zionists or even the religious non-Zionists (or anti-Zionists) would come to fill the void by offering a vision and direction for the future of the country and its people.
Much of the “religious camp” has either become marginalized, politicized or has insulated itself from having any influence. However this could be analyzed (and there are surely many strong opinions on the matter), the bottom line is that Israel is polarized by a deep rift and distrust between the religious and the secular, with no real hope in sight. Even if there are those that have a vision to offer it is not capturing the imagination and attention of the masses – as say, the call for a homeland did in the 19th and 20th century. Perhaps this is due to the approach of the religious right – one seen as condescending and dogmatic, judgmental and divisive, political and self-serving.
Indeed, the primary reason that Israel was never able to adopt a formal constitution (and instead has their “Eleven Basic Laws” as they’re called) is because of a conflict over what constitutes fundamental law within Israeli society. Many religious Jews hold that the only real constitution for a Jewish state is the Torah and Jewish law (Halacha). They not only see no need for a modern secular constitution, but even see in such a document a threat to the supremacy of the Torah and the constitutional tradition associated with it that has developed over thousands of years to serve the Jewish people in their land and in the Diaspora. The secular majority wants the state to be strictly secular (as in the slogan “a state of chok (civil law), not a state of halacha”). With all the attempts of reconciliation, the issue remains deadlocked, and the heart of the polarization.
So the big looming question arises: What is the identity and vision for Israel today?
Simplistically, one can argue that Israel’s objective is to attract more Jews from all over the world to come settle there, while also drawing tourists. But is this enough to sustain the country?
Like all big questions, especially those that have gathered dust over time, the only way to achieve any clarity is to get to the root of the issue.
Now, of course, we can begin to argue what the root is, and develop a new series of theoretical variations on the “new future Zionism”…
Instead, let us get to the root, as we do with all roots: Not by imposing our own positions and making noble (or feeble) attempts to forecast the future. But by traveling back in time and retracing the steps to the genesis of the word Zion and its original meaning.
The reason we grieve these days over the Temple’s destruction 1937 years ago is not due to an obsession with the past, with pain or with self-righteous indulgence. It is because the Holy Temple (Beit Hamikdash) standing in Jerusalem represented the center – the spiritual vortex of Jewish life, and of all life. “Build me a sanctuary and I will rest among you,” says G-d. The Temple was a manifestation of the Divine presence on Earth – the very essence and purpose of all existence.
The Temple’s destruction therefore, is not a small matter and not isolated to one particular point in history. It affects us all and in all times. We therefore remember its destruction and even throughout the year we pray facing Jerusalem and the site of the Holy Temple, whose holiness remains intact. The “Shechinah” (the Divine presence) on the Temple mount – “did not shift from its place,” i.e. it underwent no change due to the destruction, Maimonides writes.
Jerusalem – sometimes called Zion – is synonymous with spirit, with the Divine. It is the heart and soul of Jewish life and all life.
The name Zion actually means “sign.” It is a sign and symbol of the Divine presence. Indeed, the same one word Zion refers at times to the city, to the Jewish people and to Torah and mitzvot, signifying the inseparable bond between the three, the land, the people and their Divine mandate.
The enduring mission of Zion is as its name states: To be a shining example of spiritual light. Without Zion’s spiritual dimension all forms of Zionism – labor, socialist, revisionist, political, agrarian, synthetic, utopian, nationalist, cultural, religious – lack a soul. And without their soul they are rendered as short-term solutions, no better than any instrument whose shelf life is only as long as its utilitarian use.
History, as usual, can be our best educator. Study the rise and fall of empires. Why is it that mighty, wealthy, even cultured empires did not endure? Empires have fallen because they outgrew their purpose, lost their direction, broke apart due to different variations of the purpose or never had a purpose in the first place.
True, some empires abruptly ended due to natural disasters, war or other circumstantial factors. But even those would have ultimately ended, regardless of the circumstances, as testified by the long history of all other empires.
The Jewish people survived it all and are still here because their mission never ended and they never outgrew it. The mission of the Jewish people from the beginning and until this very day was to civilize, refine and spiritualize the world in which we live; to be a “light unto nations,” a living example of the highest standards of values and ethics; a living example of what it means to be Divine, to live a life of a human created in the Divine Image.
For the Jews therefore their homeland, culture, language, politics and economy are all merely instruments to fulfill their mission. If the mission is compromised or forgotten, all the vehicles lose their soul and cannot sustain the people.
This is what has happened to Israel today. There may have been a time when the dream of a Jewish homeland was strong enough to hold a people together, to bring them together, to create a political state. But now that we have a homeland, a government, an economy, an army – a full spectrumed political infrastructure – what is now the vision and the goals?
Religious Zionism and religious anti-Zionism argue whether the homeland can be created without its soul. The religious Zionists claim that even if it’s far from optimal, better begin with a secular state then not, and then work toward having the state evolve into a religious/spiritual one. The anti-Zionists assert that the two are incompatible: Without its religious soul the state cannot survive.
Even more radical anti-Zionists insist that we cannot impose even a spiritual State as long as we are in Exile (Golut) and G-d has not redeemed us. Only G-d can establish a functional State in Israel.
Regardless of your position, one thing is for sure: A country cannot survive without a mission. Especially one in a state of war.
Whatever one’s opinion about the appropriateness of the Torah as the constitution of a modern state, we cannot ignore the fact that it was considered the constitution of ancient Israel and so treated by the Jewish people in the past. Indeed, the Jewish people are the first society to embrace a constitution, beginning with the Ten Commandments and extending to the entire corpus of Torah law, as a result of which civilization was brought to the world.
One may not want to accept this definition of the Jewish mission; that is an individual’s prerogative. But then you are compelled to come up with an alternative enduring mission and vision.
Every business needs a mission statement. Every nation, country and people needs a purpose. If the purpose is a short-lived one than the entity will follow right along. An instrument cannot outlive its mission.
The United States is an interesting study in contrast. As a country the USA has now been standing for 229 years, only growing stronger, with no reason to believe that it will not go on as a superpower for years to come. By contrast, other empires have stood for lesser periods.
Some argue that the success of the USA is due to its eternal mission statement declared in the Declaration of Independence: “We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.”
Even if one were to assert that America has no mission, and neither do most countries if not all, these countries are not living among millions of enemies that are poised to pounce at any moment. The white man in America has taken care of that – they have already killed all the Indians.
Israel however does live among 250-300 million Arabs and Muslims, who oppose Israel’s very existence. In a state of war no country can survive without clear purpose. Israel can therefore not afford to have no mission today.
Modern Zionism once had a dream; the dream of a homeland. Now that the dream has been realized (at the standards of those dreamers), what is the dream today? And without a dream today does it signal the death of Modern Zionism?
It’s always easier to identify a mission through your enemies; To fight against a something or someone instead of fighting for a cause. Hitler mastered that art well when he mobilized his German countrymen against Jews and other “contaminating” elements.
It was relatively easier to define Zionism in the late 19th century, with raging anti-Semitism (dramatically highlighted by the Dreyfus Affair), and widespread pogroms. The enemy helped define the need for a homeland.
Today, with the need not so tangible, the task is much harder. Add into the equation the years of built-up distrust and all the stereotypes associated with religion, and you can imagine the enormity of the challenge.
But challenged we are to “redeem Zion” and “its captives.”
Challenged we are to define the long-term mission of Israel for today and tomorrow.
And the prophet Isaiah tells us how: “Zion will be redeemed with Law and its captives with righteousness.” Law is education. Torah study. Righteousness includes all acts of charity and altruism.
Grass roots need to launch a massive educational campaign – driven not by politics or any particular segment of the population, but by soul and compassion – that awakens the public to the true meaning of a “homeland.”
Not just as a place of shelter, sunbathing and partying. Not as place to rest a weary body. But as a place where your soul feels at home.
We need to educate ourselves and our children and friends to the meaning of a soul; How to recognize its voice and its mission; How to actualize it in real life; And how to illuminate the world around us in its spirit.
The mission is that Jews rise to their prominence as a light onto nations.
As Isaiah continues:
“It shall come to pass in the last days, that the mountain of G-d’s house shall be established on top of the mountains and all the nations shall flow unto it. And many nations shall go and say, let us go up to the mountain of G-d and we will teach us of his ways and we will walk in his paths, for from Zion shall go forth the Torah; and the word of G-d from Jerusalem. And he shall judge among the nations and they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks, nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more” (Isaiah 2:2-4).
Tags: Beis Hamikdash, Jerusalem, independence, politics, diaspora, Israel, personal growth
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