Babble and Babel

This spring brings several films out of Hollywood detailing ancient events from the pages of the Bible.  Notable among them is the new epic of the Flood.  Apparently, not many regular Bible readers were familiar with the real story.  It was reported that many viewers were horrified to find that Noah gets stoned drunk after the deluge.  They were surprised that this exactly what happens in the text. 

Let’s look at Hollywood’s next major feature.  Coming right after the Flood it tells of the great tower reaching to heaven, Babel.  Here is the basic terse, tale:

Everyone on earth had the same language and the same words.  And as they migrated from the east, they came to a valley in the land of Shinar and settled….  They said one to another; “Come let us build a city and a tower with its top in the sky…”               Genesis Chapter 11

What was the point in building the Tower of Babel?  Why was God so angry at their efforts?  Coming just after the episode of the Flood, the reader now sees a universe bent on the unified theme of building a massive tower.  Is this not a good thing especially coming after a time when humanity was so fragmented that they cared little for one another making God despair over His creation?  They were working together, as one.

Rashi asks: “The same language and the same words?”  Why is this a problem?  Isn’t this what the Lord wants of us?  To be unified in mind and purpose?  Yes, the Master answers, but not now; in the messianic era.  We are not yet prepared for such goodness.  While we are still misguided and often debase human values and people we need dissenters.  We require those who provide differing views making us question the correctness of our attitudes. 

That is why the punishment for the people of Babel is proportionate to their wrongdoing.  As a result of the sin of the Tower, they were denied the ability to speak and be understood.  In this way, they were directed to question authority.  Perhaps, says the ancient sage, evil is when all people agree.

I fear civilizations that walk in lock step.  It smacks too much of authoritarianism which oppresses its members and outliers. It also reminds me of Nazi Germany when acting in uniformity was the ideal and questioning authority was effectively eradicated.  That too was a Tower of Babel.

As the Jewish community of greater Columbia we walk a fine line.  As a community we search and argue.  We fund raise for various items we deem necessary.  Is one more important than the next?  Leadership decisions have been questioned and fiercely debated.  Have we done well?  Or have we been dealing with only portions of needed information?  Have we conducted our business fairly and honestly?  Or have we been fearful of disagreement and shunned alternative opinions?  These are vital questions that require sincere inner ongoing searching.

It is not God we debate or the primacy of faith in our lives.  This is the glue that holds us together.  Instead, we vigorously argue to find the answer to the question, “What does God expect of me?”  Sometimes the response will be clear while other times, opaque.  Yet we need arguments, disparate opinions, for God’s sake.  That is because each person’s ultimate path is unique.  When voices of dissent can be heard we will be ready to build to the Tower of Babel -- although once at that point it will no longer be necessary to storm heaven as we will have already conquered our greatest nemesis: us.

At the Pesach Table

It has always seemed remarkable to me that widely different viewpoints can be correct at the same time.  Human nature does not easily accept this truth, though.  We are quick to register that only one opinion can be correct.  So, once we have decided which direction represents the right course, everything else must therefore be wrong.  Yet, experience proves this to be incorrect.

Pesach is a case in point.

On this date we celebrate our freedom from the ruthless tyranny of the taskmasters.  Yet burning questions remain.  Did all the Egyptians really need to suffer in order to free the Jews?  Did so many have to die in the thick waters of the Reed Sea?   Why did our enemies have to die?  Or, why didn’t they have to suffer as greatly as the Jews for their crimes?

And exactly how are we supposed to feel “as if we were personally liberated” (as the Hagggada indicates) when we have never suffered that kind of pain?  That is why the Pesach seder assists with the difficulty by telling the story of Liberation in four different renditions.  One narrative is about numbers.  One is about history.  Another is about empathy through stories and one is through the descriptions of the Pesach plate and foods.

The complex variety of perspectives reminds me of a story I once heard about a father and his son driving to an engagement party.  The father, impatient, asks, “How far have we gone already?”  The son, looking forward to his bride says, “How much more do we have to go?”

Because of their inner world the father and son perceive the outer world entirely differently.  They are both correct.

Families are often difficult to keep together because each member possesses their own reality which at times may not only be different, but conflicting.  The same is true for larger groups.  Communities are hard to form and contain because every person has their own reality.  Is it any surprise that some of the Israelites were rebellious?  Or that some wanted to return back to Egypt? That should be no more shocking than people harboring disparate views on Israel.  Or the fact that someone’s seat at our seder table may be unoccupied.

Not so long ago before the Russian revolution, an advisor to the Czar and his general were assassinated.  The assassination was a bomb, which tore through the carriage, slew the horses, and killed the prince.  Some reactions at the time: The Imperial Guard mourned their general.  A coachbuilder bemoaned the destruction of his artistry. The prince’s horses, the finest in Europe, horrified a horseman.  A New York Times reporter wrote, “The old regime is dead; a new order is born.”

Of course, they were all correct.  Yet, I suspect, if they were in the same room after the event discussing what had happened they might have had vigorous, loud, and perhaps painful disagreements.  Our faith insists that we overcome our personal objections to differences by getting along.  That is why the term “k’llal Yisrael” (the corpus of Israel) figures so prominently in nearly every Jewish text.  We do not have to agree – in fact, arguing is a measure of testing truth – but we do have to take care of one another.  How we accept or reject divergent opinions is a measure of our faith and this sacred principle.

A colleague was constantly asked by his children whether he liked certain congregants.  When they asked him, “Daddy, here comes so-and-so, do like him?” he would answer, “I like the whole world.”

After a while they learned to ask, “Daddy do you like this one or do you like the whole world?”

At Pesah we are reminded of the incalculable value of accepting differences.  When we do, we become better people and more responsible stewards of our fellow Jews.

“What a caterpillar calls the end of life the Master calls a butterfly.”  –Richard Bach

The Secret to God

He came to me with a complaint.  His face was open and needy.  “I want to be spiritual but do not know how.  I really want to learn.  Teach me!  I watch you daven and I know you are talking to God.  I see it in your face.  I want that too.  How do I get there?"

Rebbe Nachman knew.  Long ago he said, “When I speak with someone I want to hear the highest words from his mouth.”

When someone would speak to him Rebbe Nachman would intensely listen to each uttered word.  They were intentional.  Nachman knew that in each dialogue there were hidden gems that had the potential of changing his life.  Imagine such a thought! 

It was not what the person said but what Rebbe Nachman heard that made the ultimate difference.  Every word contained the kernels of personal revelation.  His sole task was to listen.

“This,” I said to my complainant, “is the principle of true davenning.  It is all about listening, being awake and aware and, of course, truthful with our words.”

The words we hear and the ones we speak can have a dramatic effect on us spiritually.  If we are looking for voices of growth and learning they will appear almost everywhere.

This is the primary principle of davenning: Listen.  Take the words to hear.  Utter each word with intentionality (kavannah).  This is the whole secret to becoming a spiritual being.