Rabbi Zeitlin

This lesson is almost so obvious that it’s frequently overlooked.

As you know, operating according to Hillel, we add one candle each night of Chanukah. I want to thank my teacher and friend, Rabbi Daniel Lapin, for reminding me of a not-too-deeply buried meaning here, hiding, as it were, in plain sight.  Each day of Chanukah we need to expend ever more energy, bring ever more light into the world.

Perhaps Chanukah is the template for this message, but it’s relevant to each and every day of our lives.  The human miracle is that the more we give, the more we create, the more we contribute, the greater our capacity grows to continue giving, creating and contributing light to the world.  Chanukah means dedication, and this, indeed, is worth dedicating our lives.

Very little of the actual writings of the Ba’al Shem Tov, founder of Chassidism, have survived.  One of the few “authenticated” samples is his commentary on Psalm 107, which he recited before the mincha of Erev Shabbat, the afternoon prayer for Friday afternoons, just before Shabbat.

He discusses (verses 5-7) what might be described as a polarity shift as we enter Shabbat. The נצוצי הקודש, netzutzei ha-kodesh, the holy sparks which are embedded in our everyday reality, and which it is our task to discover and then, each of us according to our own unique soul’s configuration, lift into holiness, are very deeply embedded during the week. They require a tremendous amount of effort to perform this task.

When Shabbat arrives, however, the sparks themselves yearn to ascend and it is very easy for us to lift them.  (In fact, this is the secret behind the idea of an extra soul, נשמה יתירה, neshama y’teira, which is responsible for our enhanced appetite and the emphasis on eating on Shabbat.)  These holy sparks are defined as the very pleasure we find in our food, making them almost effortless to “process” (i.e. find and elevate).

Shabbat is meant to be easy, a period of great ease. Rather than intensifying our effort, as you might think befits the eternally holiest day, recognize and adapt to this polarity shift. Even on weekdays, God is eager to receive processed sparks. On Shabbat, that task is made immeasurably easier for us. Let us become weightless, allow ourselves to float almost effortlessly to the highest realm. Let’s fill the day and ourselves with שלום, Shalom, true peace.

It struck me, in the beginning days of Chanukah, that the traditional approach to all of our holidays, Shabbats and other periodic celebrations more often than not hamstrings us. Until this year, in which I’ve been consumed with other learning projects, I’ve always joined the crowd and tried to study intensively about the upcoming holiday, usually to the temporary exclusion of everything else. But this year has been different and I’ve given only a little pre-thought to Chanukah as it approached.  Counterintuitively, this has been the most moving and engaging Chanukah I’ve experienced in recent memory!

It should be obvious, but we blind ourselves to this fact, that all this preparation creates expectations and, at the very very best, these expectations cap our experiences.  More usually, they force us into trying to preprogram our experience, at best warping what we really experience.

Of course, it’s worth learning what we have to do to participate in each Chag and Shabbat, but, for the most part that’s not very complicated.  There is no need for endless how-to shiurim (classes) to tell us to light one candle the first night, two the second, three the third, etc.  Even the “fine points” of where to start, where to add, which candle to light first, approximately when and where to light and how long the candles should last, can usually fit on the back of the candle box!

While there is value in performing mitzvot, however we actually do them, it’s minimal when we “play” them by rote.  Perhaps a much-needed expression of the emunah, “belief” and bitachon, trust, that are so often touted, is that by performing the mitzva, we’ll receive the inner experience our neshamot, souls, actually require this time around.

Let’s experience Chanukah and everything else just as it comes to us.  We can’t, and shouldn’t waste time trying to, re-experience even our best experiences of the past. Likewise, we can’t “dial up” the most exciting-sounding experience of someone else. It might be useful, afterwards, to study some of the deeper insights and compare them to our own, to see how our experience fits into the great tapestry of Jewish experience, but on the other hand, perhaps all we need to do is share it with family and friends, and, of course, with ourselves.

Each moment is perfect, exactly what it needs to be.

Each moment lasts only a הרף עין, haraf ayin, the wink of an eye, as it leads, inevitably, to the next perfect moment, exactly what it needs to be.

The perfection of each moment is defined as placing each of us in exactly the optimal position to make and enact a good decision.

That choice, good or bad, is what leads us (combining, of course, with more forces than we can ever comprehend or perceive) to the awaiting opportunity.

This can relieve us of the agonizing, and probably unproductive, task of evaluating each moment: is this a good one?  a bad one?  In a sense, they’re all equivalent since our challenge always remains the same, to make and enact that good choice.

(בחירה, bechira, is our free will.  השגחה פרתית, hashgacha pratit, is God’s direct involvement/supervision of every moment of each of our lives.)

In past years, I’ve thought (and written) a lot about the conflict between the Greek approach to life as it opposed our ancestors’.  Although much richer in its reality, it represents to us the exclusively empirical approach which, in today’s western societies, has very much degenerated to obsession with the superficial.  The Torah’s tradition, on the other hand, while acknowledging the validity of empirical reality also recognizes the reality of the intuitive, spiritual realm, largely through the ongoing engagement with Talmud which forces the student to think linearly and laterally, empirically and intuitively, practically and inspired, all simultaneously.

Rather than merely rehashing those thoughts, both to myself and in my writing, once again, as we are often and dangerously tempted with yearly cycles of observances, I tried to bring it a little farther along this year.  I think I must be getting somewhere with these thoughts since I’m not able to resolve them.  Also, it’s a little embarrassing since my ideas take many fewer words than this introduction….  But if you have any ideas or comments, I want to specially invite you to use the comment form.

It seems that the realm of the empirical reveals the concept of Absolute while the intuitive necessitates the existence of Relative.  Both from that idea and from observing “real life”, it appears obvious to me that both relatives and absolutes always exist.  (It’s ironic, but very understandable how, in revolt against the contemporary superficial world view, which promotes absolutist thinking, those who rebel embrace the other absurd and untenable extreme of “absolute” relativism, that there is no “objective” reality but that all is “narrative” and equally-valid opinions.)

An important challenge, therefore, is to identify which propositions are, in fact, absolute and which are relative ones.  Of course, a paradox immediately emerges from this–is it possible to create an empirical, i.e. absolute definition of Absolute, thus defining as Relative everything that isn’t Absolute?

Actually, this is a critical question in contemporary Judaism.  Is there any Absolute other than God?  And are there any boundaries to Jewish practice?  How far does Relativism extend, remembering the imperative (absolute?) that each neshama, soul, is unique and, thus, has a unique mandate and a unique approach to God.  The answer seems that there is a limited range of scope in which interpretations can be, relative to the absolute of God Himself, perhaps scaled at 70 (faces of Torah, nations, languages), as discussed in a previous article, or perhaps a much larger, but still finite one, the 600,000 souls present at Sinai.

Each year we face the same battle our ancestors did, to resist the stagnation of a fully empirical mind.  Merely pulling in the opposite direction, insisting on a fully relative world, is equally wrong and a waste of time.  Perhaps the flames of our candles, the only actual mitzva of Chanukah, provide the hint.  They rise up, lifting off but not quite detaching, from the wick.

I’ve never been, nor aspired to be a congregational rabbi and I’ve rarely worked with or through established institutions.  Nonetheless, in my role as teacher I’m frequently asked by people just starting their Jewish journey how to begin.

In the past, I often offered the “obvious” tips: either suggesting they start to say the Sh’ma, at least the first sentence, שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל יְהוָֹה אֱלֹהֵינוּ יְהוָֹה ׀ אֶחָד, Sh’ma Yisrael Adonai Eloheynu Adonai Echad, “Listen, Israel, the immanent God is the transcendent God is the immanent God, all One”, on a daily basis, or to release one forbidden activity, I often suggest driving since it almost involves aggravation, for at least part of every Shabbat.

Both are great suggestions as they involve folks in the world of prayer, the world of Torah and the world of Shabbat.  I’m not sure, however, that either is really a first step.

Before we can start to take actions based on an active interaction with God, we need to establish that relationship to begin with!  Since that relationship is constantly occurring without even momentary interruption every minute of every day, what we need to do is to become aware of that relationship and acknowledge it.

Whether we yet realize it or not, God constantly provides the very possibility of our existence.  In the abstract, while equally and maybe more profoundly true, that is already a very advanced recognition and one that takes a lifetime-plus of refinement. But within that realm of providing for existence, behind the efforts of farmers and processors and distributors, God provides our daily food.  And while we might not think about God or values or any other “topic” for a day or more, we never voluntarily go more than a day or so without food, so this relationship is ongoing and concrete.

That’s why I now suggest that people begin with a simple bracha, blessing, starting with just one piece of food they enjoy each day. By acknowledging God, our dependence on, enjoyment of and appreciation for Him, we’ve accepted His continual invitation to have a relationship with Him.

You know, even “advanced” practitioners of our Torah study, tefilla (prayer), mitzvot and ritual, can, and often do, lose sight of the core relationship among all the details. It’s the proverbial missing the forest because of all the trees!

This is often brought home when we lose a loved one and enter the Jewish process of mourning.  The period between being informed of the death and the actual burial is known as Aninut.  One is not merely relieved of the obligation to make brachot, blessings, but actually forbidden to!  This isn’t as easy as it seems.  I know I’m not alone, in normal periods of life, to reach for something to eat and, when it’s just a few inches from my mouth, the bracha, blessing, automatically animates my lips and voice. In those times when I’ve been in that twilight-mourning period, I’d frequently have to consciously stop my bracha, cutting it short after the first word or two.  If I have to consciously not say it, most probably I am unconsciously saying it when I do!

We don’t need to be in mourning to discover how easy it is to lose God while keeping the ritual.  So, I often suggest to long-term Torah-learners and mitzva-keepers (including myself) to take the time, even just once a day, to really focus with all our heart and mind on God when making a single bracha, renewing our awareness of His indispensable role in creating the food we’re about to enjoy. It’s not as easy as it might seem to shift even one bracha, one mitzva, out of automatic. We, just the same as beginners, can’t afford to take God for granted.

All the rest: prayer, study, mitzvot merely bring this basic relationship forward.

Three people were given a book, a basic arithmetic textbook.  After many years, one student was able to recite the book from start to finish.  Not only that, she could tell you the exact word at every position of every page of the book.  She could recite the book backwards, or tell you every other, every third, every fourth word!  She also discussed every book review ever mentioning her textbook.

Not to be outdone, the second student presented a full-length dissertation on the book, explaining that it discussed apples and oranges, Jimmy and Martha, various other objects and personalities.  Not only that, but in presenting such examples as, “Jimmy has four apples and six oranges.  Martha has seven apples and three oranges.  If they combine their possessions and divide them evenly, how many of each fruit will each of them have. And, will this be an even distribution?” the book hints at the political ideals of equal distribution of wealth, social justice and gender equality.  He also points out that the book can function, as well, as an historical treatise on quaint ideas of agriculture and botany.

The third student couldn’t remember a single word or theme of the text and didn’t remember a single problem.  However, she had developed great skill in addition, subtraction, multiplication and division.

Quiet down and quit sniping at each other!  It’s time for us to act like grown-ups.

It’s time to learn and accept that some Jews will tend towards more observance and some towards less, and that many on both sides will migrate to the extremes of each.

A lesson from the next two parshiot, weekly Torah readings, starkly touch this issue. Just as Ya’akov, exhausted from twenty years of exile and exploitation by his uncle, Laban (even though it turned out extremely profitable for him, just as many of us have become quite affluent in places like the US and Canada and elsewhere) and repelled by conflict, as he just experienced when his sons, Shimon and Levi avenge the rape of Dinah, their sister, we’re exhausted having recently survived the Holocaust, the expulsion of practically every single Jew from almost every Arab country, the wars of 1948, 1956, 1967, 1973, and on and on, not to leave out endless terror attacks.  And, like Ya’akov, right now we want little more than to sit quietly (the title itself of the following parsha, וישב, VaYeshev, means to sit, and Rashi explains that Ya’akov merely wanted some ease after years of trial), and enjoy simply living with our families and friends.

We couldn’t get along with each other, as seen with the murderous hatred the brothers had for Yosef, and the result was the Egyptian exile (of course, there are many deep explanation of all this, but at the פשת, pshat, surface level, this is the story).  Likewise, leading up to and causing the longest exile, the one still not over, was the plague of שינת חינם, Sinat Chinam, petty hatred, at the time the Second Temple was destroyed.

Yes, Torah represents absolute truth, but no one group, regardless of their claims, today has a pure and full understanding of Torah.  We’re all very much off-base, and it benefits no one but our very real enemies to quarrel and condemn over who is the most wrong! Especially at a moment where the modern State of Israel is more threatened, more diplomatically isolated and more internationally hated than any time in her history, we need to file our disagreements in a future file and realize that we’ll either survive united or face disaster divided.

So please, charedi (“ultra orthodox”) and chiloni (ultra secular), orthodox, conservative, reform, renewal, reconstructionist, humanist, agnostic and atheist, all of us together, dial it down and JUST HUSH UP.  We are not exile-proof, not disaster-proof.

The stakes are just too big.

A single option strangles; too many paralyze.

Perhaps it’s today’s immediate communication on the internet, but many of the rapidly-developing human crises, and not just those of the Torah-aware Jewish world, seem to be the result of literally all or literally nothing confrontations.  Does everyone have to live in lockstep, uniform and regimented, in religion, politics and values?  Is it any better if we pretend that absolutely everything is equivalent and that every interpretation and set of values is equally valid?

Complexity Theory, in general, talks about the extremes of stagnation and chaos.  We find that variation and diversity are absolutely necessary, but not as a limitless absolute.  Our physical universe, as we are coming to know it, seems to define the limits in which it is able to exist.  Life on Earth, and human life specifically, have much more limited boundaries.  We, as humans (unaided by instrumentation, but, actually, even relying on ever-improving instruments since they, too, will eventually reach their limits) are only able to perceive an infinitesimal sliver of the electro-magnetic spectrum.

Rabbinic tradition (BaMidbar Rabbah 13:15) teaches, יש שבעים פנים בתורה, yesh shivim panim b’Torah, there are 70 faces to the Torah.  This is indisputable Jewish tradition, but it’s often hijacked to justify ideas that actually run counter to Torah.  Too often, the reaction to this abuse of saying “anything goes” has been the unhealthy and unreasonable and incorrect narrowing of spirituality into dogma.  Our current reality as Jews places us very much in the middle of this literally all or literally nothing war between stagnation and chaos.

It’s instructive that the Midrash selects a very definite number, 70 (and that it derives this number from יין, wine, which figures centrally not only in ancient Temple service, but also at today’s Shabbat tables, means that it’s not an arbitrary choice of number. (The Gematria, numerical value of the letters יין is 70.)) and doesn’t just say הרבה, harbeh or רבים, rabim,  or another word that means “many”.  It certainly doesn’t say just 1 or even just 2 or 3.  And while it says 70, as a friend recently pointed out, שבעים פנים ולא שבעים ואחד, shivim panim v’lo shivim v’echad, seventy faces and not seventy-one!

Beyond all the symbolic meanings of 70, it is both a definite number that can be easily counted as well as certainly being many more unique interpretations (of Torah or any other non-trivial system) than any one person, no matter how brilliant, would be able to keep in mind. (My guess, based on fancy, is that it would take a minimum of ten individuals to contain all seventy sets of information.) On the other hand, it is more than just one or two or even five or six, competing opinions that a very few exceptional individuals might have the capability of retaining.

Perhaps the challenge is to evaluate which interpretations and paths are, authentically, included in the 70 without giving up on the challenge and trying to shrink all possibility down to 1.  I think we were created with the ability to do just that.  God, who could have created a one dimensional or an infinite-dimensional Torah, created one of 70 to force us to both stretch our imaginations and our hearts as well as to limit our narcissism.

I’m reminded of the Greek allegory of Icarus.  We’re meant to fly, but we need to remember that we’re not God.

As Jews in this world, what is our ultimate goal?  One very significant aspect of Torah and Mitzvot is that they are tools.  We’re taught, at least on those rare occasions where the lectures and lessons go beyond “God said it so stop asking”, that Torah and Mitzvot are the tools we have to achieve an elusive state of being called דביקות, Devekut, which means attaching/harmonizing/”cleaving” to God.

But it’s not enough, we’re told, to only think about our own personal devekut.  Rather, we’re taught (B.Talmud Shavuot 39a) שכל ישראל ערבים זה בזה, Sh’Kol Yisrael Aravim Zeh b’Zeh, that all Israel (each Jew) is responsible for each other.  For some reason, it’s in our interest for all Jews to achieve this elusive devekut, which, as we remember, is defined as only possible via Torah and Mitzvot.

One reason, we’re told, is that when, through these Mitzvot, we repair the world (this, rather than any particular social/political stance, is what our tradition really means by Tikkun Olam, Repairing the World), we will, at the very least, repatriate the Jewish people from Galut, exile which, in its deepest sense really means heal ourselves from the radical alienation we all experience.  (Whether that can only be achieved for Jews in the Holy Land, i.e. the literal meaning of returning from exile, is another topic altogether.) We can either continue to suffer together or we can all be made whole and healthy together.

Although the tactics are often distasteful for those outside of haredi, ultra-orthodox, culture, it’s my overwhelming experience that the motivation of those leaders who attempt to coerce Mitzva-compliance is rarely driven by ego, greed or power-hunger, but, rather, out of idealism, love and desperation (and, quite often, a lack of understanding about the modern, non-haredi world most of us live in) for all of us to get out of the misery that galut has, historically, almost always been.

In other words, the real goal of the traditional, call it orthodox if you will, is for all of us to succeed in observing mitzvot.

And this is why I cannot understand the parallel momentum in much of the orthodox world, even including the more liberal elements of it, to continually define these mitzvot stricter and stricter and, thus, harder and harder to achieve.  It makes no sense to me at all.

One doesn’t have to design and engineer a “Mitzva Lite” for slackers, since fairly easy-to-do halachic opinions exist in our fundamental texts of the Talmud and Halacha.  The mitzvot can be authentically and legitimately followed with reasonable effort and determination.  There is no need to obsess, to become emotionally unhealthy or unpleasant to others in order to live a mitzva-based life.  In fact, Torah, as many of our sages through the millennia have said, is a path to life and health.  Not only that, but we need to assume that God wants us to succeed!  And knowing our capabilities and our tendencies, He would never make it artificially difficult!  (For a passionate discussion of this, I suggest reading this tshuva/answer of Rav Yitchak Abadi.  Be sure to read it all the way through.)

In a group project, there is no individual “extra credit”.  If we continue to allow halacha to be hijacked and  presented as harder and harder, not to mention increasingly unpleasant and unhealthy, a very few might benefit by showing off, but more and more of our people will refuse to even begin to join in.  Even at its most “optimistic”, coercion will steal the actual mitzva away from the one who mechanically goes through the motions and we’ll all still continue to lose.

Again, we don’t need to make up new shortcuts or Halacha For Dummies.  We just need to stop making new artificial obstacles and get rid of the ones that already block the majority of the Jewish People.  All of us, deep inside, cry to finally end our exile and alienation.  And all of us, working together, can.

שכל ישראל ערבים זה בזה