Knowledge of Life

When God created the universe He decided to plant a special gift, a hidden treasure. There was, He decided, the need to have a place to ensconce the wisdom of the world.  With such a trove distant but available, people would be energized to seek and value the most wondrous offering God ever left.

The problem was for God, where to put the gift? One angel suggested that it be placed on the highest mountain.  In that way only the most committed would be able to achieve it. “No. That would put it out of reach of all but the most hardy,” explained God. Another one of the Hosts posited that such wisdom belongs on the bottom of the ocean. “Too wet,” God countered. So it went until one meek angel offered, “Why not put it in people’s heart? That way, the wisdom is always with a reach but the people have to struggle to find it.”  So it was.

We toil for truth. We sweat to find our place on the wheel of life. There are many paths but only one is right for you. It emanates from those secret recesses of your heart.

James Webb write, “Honor begins who is accepting that what we do, large and small, matters. When I was first appointed Secretary of the Navy, a reporter mentioned how important he thought his job was and I agreed, but I also told him that when I die, God is not going to ask me if I had been secretary of the Navy.”

It is all there, in the secret places of the heart.  You know what to do.

A Heroes' Journey

War movies always have the same scene: the soldiers are pinned down.  Enemy fire rains down on them mercilessly.  They are stuck with no channel of relief.

Suddenly one of the men overcomes the mental paralysis and charges forward against good judgment.  He braves the terror and saves the platoon.

Like all good stories there is a hero who challenges his opponent and succeeds where other fail.  Think of Odysseus, Achilles or Daedalus.  In children’s mythology we have Little Red Riding Hood and King Arthur.  Even in our sacred Torah we have David and Goliath.

The reason such tales are woven and we eagerly consume them time and again is because they encourage us. We need them.  We know that these stories are aimed at our lives.  While dragons may not confront us, we have co-workers who defame us.  We have habits that hold us back from excellence.  We know we can succeed if the obstacles that block us would go away.

Life is not static. Our choice is to try our best to hold our position or move forward, just like the solider in the trench.

Their path: “When you try to climb in mountain to prove how big you are, you almost never make it. And even if you do it’s a hollow victory.  In order to sustain the victory you have to prove yourself again and again and again in some other way, and again and again and again driven forever to fill a false image, haunted by the fear that the image is not true and someone will find out.” –Robert Pirsig

The first question every intrepid soul – and we are all heroes in making on a great journey -- needs to ask is whether we are coursing our journey, or someone else’s.  At times we may find that we have not been challenging our dragon.  If we are in pursuit of someone else’s dream we will not be fulfilled.  Our path is unique.

Our path: Once we find our direction we become the storyteller, the journeyman and hero, as long as we continue forward.  This last part is key: “as long as we continue forward.”

In process of becoming a hero, it does not matter whether we are an accountant, teller, stamp collector or mechanic.  We all have massive borders to climb, impenetrable obstacles to overcome and a hero’s welcome awaits us at the end of this trek.  Nobody can tell us where to go or how to proceed.  People may be guides along the route, suggesting other pathways but ultimately their journey belongs to them.  Their story is not our story.

This is the meaning of Rebbe Nachman’s adage, “The world is a narrow bridge and the only concern is to be unafraid.”  It is also the basis of Ben Heh-Heh’s axiom (in the Mishna), “According to the effort is the reward.”

One major component of our life’s journey is to pack well.  Without proper provision how can you hope to conquer your foes?

This is why we study Torah. As any student of the Writ knows, Torah demands immersion.  It insists that we sink our soul into it and unravel its mysteries to provide provender for our adventure.  We are it (as the Talmud states, “Torah and Israel are one”).  When we submerse ourselves in Torah and understand it on one of the infinite number of levels it proffers, we obtain the greatest clues to unlock the mystery our heroic journey.

The Way

I often use the word halakha.  Taken non-literally, halakha means Law.  We speak of the Laws of Judaism (traditionally numbered at 613) as the binding concept of the Jewish people.  The halakhot govern the way in which courts function, how we daven; they cover rules of relations and discourse.  In effect, halakha dictates not just the way our society functions but how we relate to God, as well.

Halakha is the practical application of the Written Word, i.e. the Torah.  That which makes the Torah more than an interesting narrative, more than just good fireside stories, is the way that it leaps into the realm of living.  As a matter of fact, one of the primary functions of a rabbi is to breathe life into the Divine text, to make it available for usage.  That is why the Torah is more than a book of ideas or theology.  It is a handbook for life. 

And yet, if you have ever read the Torah for more than three minutes, it is clear that the Bible is not a completely useable document.  Example:  What does the episode of Noah teach us about life?  Sure, it’s a neat story and has fascinating insights and morals but how can it be used as a yardstick for living?  That is where human reason comes in.   Toward the end of the tale of the flood God tells the survivors, “…but flesh with its soul, do not eat its blood.” (Genesis 9:4).

Peering intensely at this passage the Rabbis deciphered several messages.

1). We are allowed to eat meat.

2). We are prohibited from eating living flesh.  That is, implicit in the words ‘flesh with its soul” is the idea that God does not want us to tear a limb from a living animal.  That is cruel.  As an extension of this interpretation comes the law that any part of an animal that is severed while it is still alive negates the whole beast.

3).  As blood is also mentioned in the same verse, that too, is equated with the soul of the animal.  So we have the halakha that any hint of blood in an animal renders it unfit for consumption. 

Our religion is a fusion of both God’s will and human insight.

The literal meaning of the word halakha is way.  For us halakha is the path to the living, organic faith that was born millennia ago.

Make a Choice

“An old man sat at a crossroads.  A passerby approached and asked him how to get to the city.  The old man replied, “Both ways lead to the same destination.  That way,” he pointed, “begins in briars but ends in a smooth path.  The other way begins in smooth path but ends in briars.  Now choose.”

“So it is with us: there are some who only know peace but will come to pain in the end.  Others suffer now but their end is comfort.”  -Sifre

This passage is from an ancient source, Midrash.  Written thousands of years ago it acknowledges what we all come to learn.  There are always choices to be made.  Some we decide because they are convenient and others are chosen because they are the right ones, even if uncomfortable.

All those remarkable stories from Torah that we read are about making choices.  From the Garden, to Noah’s floating craft, to Moses each tale carries the same message.  It is about coming to a crossroads and making a decision. Some deride Noah for saving only himself.  That was a choice.  The descent to slavery was all about bad choices made by well-intentioned people.  That was a choice.  So was Abraham’s argument to save the city of Sodom as was the decision to eat the Forbidden Fruit.

Admittedly there are times when we feel compelled, like we have no choice.  When the herd runs in one direction it takes a great deal of inner strength to go opposite them.  In a concentration camp it was far easier to be a kapo, one who went along with the Nazi evils, than a person like Schindler, who valued life.  Schindler was the oddity doing what no one else dared do.  The kapo simply followed.

With this in mind Viktor Frankl, a survivor, wrote, “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms—to choose one’s own way.”  Frankl insists that we always have a choice.  The Torah heartily agrees.  Nobody makes us do, say, or feel anything without our consent.  We decide to give tzedaka or hoard.  We make the decision to make peace or go to war with our foes.

Judaism insists on personal choice and responsibility.  That is why there is no devil or demon that is responsible for our actions.  There is only us.

The message of Haunukka is one that we usually gloss over.  You see, the real and most dangerous enemies of the Jews were…the Jews.  Those who had left the tent of Judaism and opted for the Greek modern way of life posed the greatest threat to the Maccabees because this nation was marching in lock-step in the wrong direction!  Most of the Jews had abdicated their freedom of choice and blindly followed after the masses.  A few said no.  They were the Herzls, the Schindlers, and the Kings of their time.  We celebrate their choice.  We are only alive because of their chutzpah.

God asks us to choose as well.  Every day.