One Erev Shabbat

A tzaddik, one of the truly righteous, desired to become closer to god.  So he sent himself into galut, exile, from his family and home.  He deliberately chose a life of wandering and meager living.  The tzaddik reasoned that if understood the real poverty and suffering of the unfortunates he would draw closer to the Almighty.

One erev Shabbat, the tzaddik in rags came to a small town.  Looking around he found the home of one wealthy Jew.  The tzaddik knocked.  When the door opened the rich man gazed in disdain at the pauper.  Undaunted, the tzaddik asked to spend the holy Shabbos there.  The wealthy man curtly told him there was no room before closing the door.

Many years passed and the tzaddik had given up his wanderings and was now a famous rabbi and preacher.  People flocked to see him, hear his words, touch his cloak.  It so happened that on one Shabbat the tzaddik again found himself in the same town as years before.  This time he arrived in a magnificent carried and the town was abuzz with his arrival.

That wealthy Jew- the same who had spurned him long ago- hurried to greet the famous rabbi.  Begging him to join him for the Shabbos, the tzaddik paused before saying, “I will give you an answer in one hour.”

As soon as the rich man left the rabbi turned to one of his students and said, “Brush the horses, hitch them to the carriage and bring it to the home of the wealthy man.”

As soon as the rich man saw the great carriage coming toward his home drawn by the fine horses, he was overjoyed.  The tzaddik was coming!  He was staying at his home!

When he rushed out to greet the holy rabbi he found the carriage was empty.  How could this be?  Where was the holy tzaddik? The man turned and ran to the center of town where he met the tzaddik earlier and breathlessly asked, “Rabbi, what happened?  Why did you send an empty carriage to my home?  Why did you not come?”

The rabbi answered, “Long ago I came to your home and asked for hospitality for Shabbos.  You turned me away.  This time when I came you embraced me.  I asked, “What has changed since then?”  I realized that the difference is my entourage.  I came in this time riding in a fine carriage with great horses.  Apparently, that is what you really wanted which is why I sent it.”

We have just finished a long process of conversations about the synagogue.  We discovered many wonderful things about Beth Shalom and other things which need attention.  One of the most noticeable items was that universally everyone wants a congregation that supports, welcomes and embraces one another.

Isn’t this what our faith stands for?  Every person is a deliverer in disguise, about to be unveiled.  Every Jew is a messenger with words to be shared.  It can only be done if we welcome on another with a full heart.  No one is special. Everyone is special.  I want to encourage you in joining me in the making of a community.  Come home.  Extend your hand.  Throw out a good word, a smile.

Hasid or Tzaddik?

The Torah is not a series of disconnected tales.  It is stories, ideas and axioms intricately developed through the course of its many books.  For example, in the Garden of Eden humankind is limited by just one simple law: ‘Do not eat of that fruit.’  Noah, coming some ten generations later, is charged with seven laws which he and his descendents are obliged to follow.  As the Tree is gone, new laws govern human interaction with one another and the world.

One question posed by the ancient sages is, what view should we take of the strictures given by God?  Are they values that relate to the One?  Do they connect us to Him?  Or are they simply duties that must be followed?  To put this a different way, which is more worthy- to adhere to the laws because we fear God or understand that these laws are right by our own heightened sense of morality and thereby fulfill them?

A Hasid (a righteous individual, not a member of a sect) and a Tzaddik are paradigms of this question.  A Hasid is someone who follows the laws because he fears the Lord.  The Hasid has a sense of duty to God and will adhere to the halachot of Judaism because of yirat shamayim, Awe of Heaven.  A Hasid thinks, ‘My mind is too limited by its own boundaries to know what God wants of me.  He asks’, “What then do You ask of me, Lord?”  The Tzaddik, on the other hand, may be every bit as outwardly religious, but will act righteously because of his sense of what is correct.  Which is better?  To be a Hasid?  Or a Tzaddik?

A Hasid must be Jewish.  The word itself refers to someone who looks at the universe of God given dicta and zealously looks for opportunities to do the Divine Will.  A Tzaddik may be a Jew or non-Jew as they feel or intuit an awareness of what morality means.

It is implicit in the rabbinic mind that our faith does not trust humanity to make the right decisions about moral questions.  After all, the initial phases of the Torah are laden with tales of the descent of humankind into a great lacunae of goodness.  Think of the stories that are told from the episode of the Garden to the enslavement in Egypt.  The stories are of moral depravity and then the discovery of God and a higher authority. 

Yet, the question remains: Which is more praiseworthy—to be a Hasid or a Tzaddik?

In the Talmud, Mar son of Ravina declares, that “even a non-Jew who studies the Torah is comparable [in merit] to the Kohen Gadol.”  We know that non-Jews are not commanded to study Torah so it may then be assumed that reason or a personal compulsion to do “right” is greater than even an obligation carried out with fervor.  Even medieval heretic Baruch Spinoza came to the conclusion that “every person who accepts the authority of the seven commandments of Noah and applies oneself to their observance should be considered as one of the hasidei umot olam [a Hasid amongst the gentile nations].

There is no question that moral behavior is of paramount importance.  The outstanding philosophic question is what is the best route to get there?  The path of the Hasid?  Or Tzaddik?