November 15th: VaYera
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
(This week, we share Rabbi Ostrich’s Yom Kippur morning D’var Torah, Trying Not to Get It Wrong.)
A holy man was addressing a group of religious teenagers, but one of the young people was troubled. The teaching seemed ungodly, so he raised his hand. Where in the Scriptures is this found? It is there; it is the will of God. But where? It is there; it is the will of God. But where is it in the Scripture? There was no answer—no answer because the teaching was not in Scripture. The young man, the future Imam Abdullah Antepli, had studied the Koran and knew that this teaching was not in the Koran—neither Surah nor Hadith.
Though set in a Muslim context, this story could have easily taken place in a Christian, or Hindu, or Buddhist, or Jewish setting—and unfortunately, it often does. Sometimes religious people believe something so strongly that they think it is Scriptural when it is not.
Religions around the world know about this tendency, and they all have remediative stories to remind the pious about being humble—and about not putting their thoughts in God’s mouth. There are many variations, but here is the basic scenario. A faithful disciple says or does something and thinks that it will please his/her master. But, to the disciple’s surprise, the master is disappointed and redirects the thinking to a different and more important principle. Whether in Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Confucianism, Christianity, Islam, Baha’ism, or Taoism, the process and lesson is the same. The disciple thinks he/she knows the truth and comes to the Master—Hassidic Rebbe, Sufi Master, Mother Superior, or Zen Master, thinking that this truth stated or performed will bring approval. The problem is that, in the zeal of religious fervor, the disciple gets it wrong.
An example from Judaism is the story of the Baal Shem Tov and one of his disciples, Reb Yechiel Michel of Zlotchev. The young rabbi gives one of his students a harsh punishment for violating one of the Sabbath laws, thinking that the extra harshness will help the student remember the error of his ways—and thinking that his teacher, the Baal Shem Tov, will approve. However, when he reports his teaching technique, the Baal Shem Tov ignores it and instead sends Reb Yechiel Michel on a distant errand. The errand is urgent and cannot be delayed, and he needs to report back immediately—before Shabbos. The problem is that the errand requires eight hours of traveling when there are only only six hours before Shabbos begins. The Baal Shem Tov will not hear any objections, so Reb Yechiel Michel hires a driver with a good horse and wagon and hurries as fast as he can. He hopes he can make it back before sundown, but he does not. Though he urges the driver to urge the horse and they take no time to rest, they do not get back until after dark. Reb Yechiel Michel is bereft that he has violated Shabbos, and, when he arrives back in the village, there is the Baal Shem Tov standing outside the empty synagogue, waiting. As the after-dinner Shabbos songs float through the village air, Reb Yechiel Michel approaches his master with trepidation. He has attended to the errand, but he is remorseful and sure that he will receive a harsh punishment. Instead, the Baal Shem Tov seems unconcerned about the errand or Shabbos and very interested in how Reb Yechiel Michel feels. When he explains how bad he feels about breaking Shabbos, the Baal Shem Tov nods. Yes, you feel terrible. You feel disconnected from God and Tradition. It is a terrible feeling, and that feeling alone is punishment enough. It is all you need to remember not to violate Shabbos. The pious Reb Yechiel Michel thought he knew how to be a rebbe, but he needed correction.
Another example is the Christian Parable of the Prodigal Son—found in the New Testament in Luke, Chapter 15. In this most famous of Jesus’ parables, a father has two sons, and the younger one suggests an interesting proposition. Give me my inheritance now, he asks his father, so that I do not have to wait until you die. The father agrees and gives his younger son a large amount of money, at which point the younger son goes off on adventures, and the older son stays on the family farm and works. Soon the younger son has wasted his money and squandered his inheritance and comes back home penniless and in need of refuge. The older son, noting his own loyalty and responsibility, is sure that the father will reject the younger son. Such impudence and disloyalty have earned him rejection. But the father welcomes back the younger son, embracing him and giving him his place back in the family. The older son—the responsible and loyal one—cannot understand, but the father reminds him that he loves his younger son despite his behavior. A son can do nothing that will destroy the love of his father.
Christians use this story to teach of God’s unrelenting love—and other than the theological issue of Jesus’ role in connecting people to God, this is a perfectly good Jewish story about repentance. In fact, Jesus might have been thinking about the teshuvah he heard preached in his local synagogue. Be that as it may, if we step back and notice the form of the story, we see the ubiquitous story of the mistaken disciple. The older son—with whom most hearers immediately agree— thinks that he understands, but he focuses so much on loyalty that he forgets the greater context of his father’s love. The forgiving and embracing father plays the part of the spiritual master who sees the greater picture and offers the older son—and the reader a corrective.
Such stories could be termed Tales of Chagrin, situations in which we think we know the right and pious answer but do not. Our piety or learning or aspirations lead us to a kind of self-righteousness, over-confidence, or lack of empathy, and we are in need of an adjustment from a higher level of godliness.
Why are such Tales of Chagrin necessary? As much as we encourage and inspire religiosity, there is a self-awareness in religion that we can get carried away with our righteousness and piety and to take them too far. We strive to understand God’s will, and many times we discern a glimmer, but we need to retain our humility. We may hear the Voice of God ringing in our ears, but we may also be bending those spiritual sound waves and not hearing the whole message. Whether with ignorance or tunnel vision or active manipulation, there are those who claim to speak for God but who really misspeak the Divine Message. As much as we love God and endeavor to submit to the Divine, we need to keep our wits about us and our minds active—and our piety humble and open and attuned to correction.
How do we work on this problematic tendency? Our Tradition offers these possibilities.
First, look at the Tzitzit on your Tallesim. As we read in the Torah:
וּרְאִיתֶם אֹתוֹ וּזְכַרְתֶּם אֶת־כָּל־מִצְוֹת יְיָ...וְלֹא תָתוּרוּ אַֽחֲרֵי לְבַבְכֶם וְאַֽחֲרֵי עֵינֵיכֶם, אֲשֶׁר־אַתֶּם זֹנִים אַחֲרֵיהֶֽם:
When you look at the Tzitzit, you should remember all the mitzvot of the Lord, and that you have previously fallen into sin—going about after your own heart and eyes and going wantonly astray. We have sinned. We have missed the boat and the lesson. Let us be humble and try to improve.
Hillel seems to have anticipated the overconfidence of the pious, for, in Pirke Avot 2.4, he counsels:
וְאַל תַּאֲמִין בְּעַצְמְךָ עַד יוֹם מוֹתְךָ. “Do not be sure of yourself until the day you die.”
We must always keep open minds and pursue frequent and constant reappraisal. We could get it wrong. We have gotten in wrong. We need to be diligent in not getting it wrong again.
Second, re-education or reconsideration is a must. We may think we know the authoritative documents of our Tradition: Torah, Bible, Talmud. We may have studied them extensively. However, we have not considered all that they can teach and all the ways that their principles and stories can help guide us in previously unconsidered scenarios. Here are just a few examples of the Tradition’s self-awareness about how even the wisest need to keep studying and keep striving to find the right path.
We can start with the famous passage from the Hagaddah in which Elazar ben Azariah says, "Behold I am like a seventy year old man, but I never understood why the Exodus from Egypt should be recited at night until Ben Zoma explicated it.” The prooftext and explanation are interesting, but beyond that, notice how one of the leading rabbis of the day, at age 70, finally understands something he has wondered about for years. It is a good thing he continued to pay attention.
In Pirke Avot (5.22), Ben Bag Bag speaks of the wisdom of continually re-examining things one thinks are already known. הֲפֹךְ בָּהּ וַהֲפֹךְ בָּהּ, דְּכֹלָּא בָהּ...
“Turn it over, and turn it over again, for everything is in it. Reflect on it an grow old and gray with it.”
And, “Rabbi Hiyya bar Abba, in the name of Rabbi Yochanan, gives the following Midrash: When it says in Proverbs (27.18), ‘Whoever tends a fig tree shall enjoy its fruit,’ King Solomon is talking about Torah study. Since figs on a fig tree ripen at different times, the tree-keeper must look everyday to find newly ripened fruit. So it is with the Torah. Whenever we study Torah, we can find something new and wise for us to learn.” (Talmud Eruvin 54ab)
Humility. Openness. Reappraisal. Torah.
These are all part of Teshuvah. May we continue to improve.