All life is becoming; it
is process. The mark of the greatest preachers of all time has not been their
ability to craft a flawless piece of rhetoric but to connect to the moment.
Lots of people move the heads of their listeners, fewer can move their heart.
Reading sermons that were delivered decades ago are invariably
interesting, yet of more historical
significance than words which touch us at our core.
Rabbis and speakers, like the Maggidim of
old whom we emulate, are people who can connect with the moment. They are
dynamic because they can accurately read the pulse of society. By their dead
reckoning, the focus of each talk, invocation, eulogy and sermon respond to the
active needs of the listener. The attention of the congregation is bolted. They
sit rapt because the preacher has spoken a truth that they have not yet learned
to articulate, but nonetheless recognize as truth.
Even rarer are the individuals whose words
reverberate throughout the twists of the epochs. To think that one medieval grape farmer in France would be
quoted for centuries-to-come is remarkable. Rashi’s words speak to scholar, mystic and agnostic alike. The
far-reaching impact of Rashi is evidence of his brilliance on the ground in his own era and ours. It is difficult not
to be awed by him.
The Hasidic Masters have been made
accessible to us by contemporary insightful writers, scholars, and historians.
Their words have found a receptive and hungry audience in modernity. Classes
and books in spirituality and Kabbalah abound. What Louis Jacobs has called
“pop Kabbalah” has tapped into a wide and spiritually conscious generation. In
our time, Jews have been underwhelmed by the lack of depth they perceive in
their faith. All they learned about Judaism was as children in inadequate
Hebrew Schools. Many, as a result have looked outward for meaning. Some have
turned inward and have asked the
question Howard Kushner posed to us more than one decade ago “Is this all there
is?”.
Arthur Green has opened up for us a response
in the form of a translation of the S’fat Emet. In The Language of
Truth, Green has compiled and translated and commented on the Master’s
works, Rabbi Yehudah Leib Alter of Ger.
To his credit, Green allows the Hasidic
Sage to speak for himself. Organized by Sidra and Holy Days, The Language
of Truth is an accurate English translation of Rabbi Yehudah
Leib. The commentary of the S’fat Emet contains the qualities of spiritual depth combined with existential
meaning. In one instance, the S’fat Emet records Rashi’s statement of Sarah’s
life as being complete and whole. Going on to state that each of us has the
potential to imbue every moment with meaning so that maturity is not a remote
notion, the S’fat Emet reckons that Sarah’s life may be a paradigm for us. He
writes: “Every day of our lives we are given [the opportunity of] some special
thing to set aright.”
In another instance, the S’fat Emet weighs
the meaning of the “Giving of the Torah.” When the people Israel received the Word of God they were
sated with power. Like the Angels,
the people Israel were
awakened to the strength of God by their full understanding of the Divine Will.
At Sinai, the Psalmist said of them “You are gods.” The S’fat Emet takes the
point even further by telling his listeners that when they observe the mitzvot
of the sabbatical or jubilee on Shabbat they return to the “times when this
former power is awakened.”
The words are terse. There is little room
for rhetoric, less for hyperbole. Each vort is concise, almost abrupt. As if
sensing this, Arthur Green closes each lecture with something tangible. At the
end of Hayyey Sarah, he writes.
For
some of us teshuvah, the return to God, needs to constitute a drastic or even
violent change in the way we have been living. But there are those for whom
teshuvah is constant throughout life, who are always turned at to God,
returning energy to the One. For them, teshuvah is as natural as breathing and
as indispensable a part of life.
This is the stuff which has a unique
appeal to our spiritually impoverished generation. A thought: Is it
coincidence that the least knowledgeable
/ observant community is also the one with the deepest yearning for
spirituality? The S’fat Emet is one of those remarkable commentaries which
addresses the deep needs of our people.
To whom would this book be useful? The
morsels Rabbi Yehudah Leib provides are succulent. They at once inspire and
elevate. The S’fat Emet takes a positive view of the great potential of each
Jew. We are people who can reach the
spiritual heights of our biblical ancestors.
Not satisfied with mere exposition, the
Hasidic Master fervently believes in the living breathing relationship between
God and His people. For example, one way we reach the highest realms by
self-negation (bittul). Yet this self-negation is expressed by the S’fat
Emet in terms of “…becoming holy where we are right here in this world a person
can become more holy than the Seraphim” One can almost hear Shlomo Carlbach (of
blessed memory) singing out the same words. These are the sentiments which
infuse us with hope and joy. They invite us to become more than we are.
Truth is, Green’s work is not a speedy
read: it moves in a condensed, yet powerful way. The verbiage is sparse. For
those who seek inspiration, the segments presented for each Torah Reading and
holiday provide great impetus for thought and reflection. Each kernel that the
S’fat Emet gives is a spark evoking a whole chain of ideas.
A person seeking depth and meaning will
find this tome
a worthy companion.
For these looking for the original text, the Hebrew version is found in the
rear.
The Language of Truth
is about a personal quest for greater holiness. Rabbi Yehudah Leib was more
than a teacher, he was a craftsman who ever refined and reshaped his work.
Maybe that is why the S’fat Emet is so powerful. There are no platitudes here,
just a spiritual process—a yearning to then connect with the Ultimate Master.
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