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The Commandments (2)

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     Now we must clarify one central assumption which lies at the base of our entire discussion.  Rationalism is our sole guide during a significant part of our lives.  Rihal teaches us that the Torah addresses us from a vantage point which exists beyond this rationalism.  Its source lies beyond logic, and some of its messages cannot be grasped in logical terms.  This is the true meaning of the "Shim'i" commandments.  They are not the arbitrary decrees of an capricious ruler; they are expressions of the mysteries which the mind cannot fathom.

 

     Rihal negates the omnipotence of the intellect, the unchallenged dominion of rationalism.  Yet, Rihal's position certainly does not champion all irrational approaches.  The Chaver wisely notes that the wellspring of faith and of heresy are one and the same [1:77].  Ideas which transcend the rational realm must not be identified with those concepts which are inferior to it.  Logic sometimes functions as a dam, and faith means opening a pathway for the waters of post-rational wisdom to flow through.  However, we do not desire the destruction of the dam, lest the pre-rational waters flow more freely than they should, at the wrong time, and in an improper way.  Thus, we must carefully stress the distinction between faith and astrology, magic, and other similar phenomena:

 

     "In this manner people behaved ... they would be tempted   by the foolishness of astrology and the opinions of the     sages of nature in their generation and move from one    futile doctrine to another ... and there are those who believed in the powers of nature as in gods, while   forgetting the leader and ruler of these powers" [1:79].

 

     The source of faith can become the seed of heresy, and in the name of the same deviation from rationality, people find a refuge for many false and harmful superstitions.  The danger of drawing comparisons, of granting a collective sanction to many "mysterious" approaches which the mind refuses to accept, always exists.  Once again, we see the clarity of Rihal's analysis, an analysis which compels us to distinguish between things which appear, at first glance, to be identical.  Thus, we must always measure the potential dangers that lurk within movement beyond the boundaries of logic.  Despite the necessity and the blessing inherent in this transition, the source of our faith, we must always be wary of the dangers it holds.

 

Commandments and Flowers: A Fourth Model for the Commandments [2:56-58]

 

     Until this point we have looked at three models: the beret model, the seat-belt model, and the medicine model.  We will now return to the first model, in order to learn about a fourth approach which bears some similarity to it.

 

     The main difference between the beret and the seat-belt is not the punishment; it is rather the intention of the legislator.  Through the beret the commander wished to establish discipline, to create a symbol for a particular lifestyle.  The seat-belt commandment is different.  This commandment attempts to guide man to do what is best for him, even if it sometimes enforces this through punishment.

 

     In contrast, the perception of the commandments as similar to the military beret implies that our central mission is to submit to the Heavenly command.  This is the perspective of fear.  However, another type of compliance also exists.  Adherence to the Divine voice can take on an entirely different meaning.  This is adherence out of love, the desire to worship God "lishmah," for the sake of the action itself, without thought of reward or punishment.  This approach is associated in our generation with the philosopher Yeshayahu Leibowitz.  However, as we shall see, the basic idea exists in the Kuzari.  And, indeed, Rihal himself views certain commandments, or components of certain commandments, with the same approach.  In order to understand this, let us pay close attention to the background to Rihal's words.

 

     The Sages taught us that there is a need to blend love and fear.  When we stand before authority, both love and fear can cause a departure from the ideal course.  Fear can become hatred of the commandment; love can cause disrespect for the law.  Judaism synthesizes these two elements.

 

     One of the most impressive aspects in the history of our ancestors in the black period of the Middle Ages was their ability to face the monumental cathedrals, large mosques and impressive works of art, and overcome the temptation to be drawn in.  They struggled against the pull of a foreign culture, and they succeeded.  These ancestors were not coerced by force of arms.  None of their contemporaries faced them, sword in hand, to demand that they join the prevalent religion.  This group faced a different type of coercion, that of a great civilization trying, consciously or unconsciously, to force itself upon them through the power of its imposing presence.  The tourist visiting a large modern city has a similar feeling, when he senses his own smallness in comparison to the skyscrapers that surround him.  Rihal teaches us that a different type of strength exists as well.  Our ancestors' strength was not theatrical; their mode of worship was not encompassed "in the beauty of the poetic phrase, in sighs, in wails accompanied by the raising of eyebrows and the hiding of pupils ..."  A different force can be divined in the simple desire of the heart to worship God.  These are things which the tourist cannot capture with his camera; yet, their importance and essential reality far surpass those of the most monumental edifice.

 

     We must express ourselves differently.  This was apparent to Rihal when he passed by the Cordova mosque or stood before the great cathedrals.  Christianity itself accepted this idea at a later stage, when the Protestants rebelled against the opulence of the church, and desired to return to the simple prayer of the Bible.  They perceived the potential emptiness of these theatrics, and realized that when the actor goes home, the show is over.

 

     How do we express what is in our hearts?  "These [feelings] are expressed only through actions which are naturally difficult for man; yet, the worshipper of God performs them with infinite desire and love."  This concept helps us understand another level of the commandments.

 

     Let me give you an example.  If I were to present my wife with a broom or a needle and thread as a birthday gift, she would certainly think I was contemptible.  This gift is not an expression of love, but an instrument for the work which I apparently expect from her.  I could give her gifts which would be useful only to her.  But we do these things differently.  Sometimes a gesture which has no practical use best expresses  love or friendship.  For example, we often give flowers as a symbolic gesture.  This could be a merely theatrical gesture, which only teaches us what price was paid, or displays a stranger's talent for arranging flowers.  Judaism wants us to bring flowers to God, but only unique flowers, which we must work hard to discover.  We Jews have not expressed ourselves in the Diaspora with the esthetics of flower arrangement; we have climbed up steep and often dangerous mountains, in order to pluck one flower and thus express our love for God.

 

     When we perform the commandments, heed the advice or take the medicine, we do it for our own good.  In a sense, we are bringing a button and needle as a gift to have our button sewn on.  This is the meaning of reciprocal love: "Ani le-dodi ve-dodi li" - I am for my Beloved and my Beloved is for me.  God gives us advice and we bring him flowers.  However, when we perform the commandments, we hope not only for a personal Divine response; we seek to alter history.  We believe that the commandments act upon the world.

 

     The Kuzari asks the Chaver: "Are you not overwhelmed today by all these responsibilities, and what nation could possibly keep such a regimen of commands?" [2:57].  Bringing these flowers seemingly makes life difficult.  However, just as in the love between husband and wife, fulfillment of the difficult obligations protects something far more valuable than the loss incurred by the payment.  The true reward in our religious life is our continuous national encounter with God.

 

     Our closeness to God means that Jewish history is not similar to general history.  There, geographical, economical and sociological laws hold sway.  In Jewish history a different system exists.  Think of a mother who has no time for her children, and leaves them with a nanny.  In contrast, another mother is connected to her children and gives them her time and her love.  Perhaps she punishes them more often than the successful nanny of the other mother, but her children feel her love.  The other children's room is more beautiful, but according to Rihal, in our meager room - in Jewish history - the mother is present.  This is the true meaning of cleaving to God.  God does not leave us in the hands of an angel or a messenger of normal historical laws.  He accompanies us Himself.

 

     According to this approach, when we fulfill rabbinical ordinances, or when we are careful about the details of the commandments, we express our love.  We find this idea in Jewish thought throughout the generations.  Outstanding in this approach are Rabbenu Yona in the medieval period, and Rabbi Tzadok Ha-kohen of Lublin in Chasidism.

 

The Multifaceted Character of the Commandments

 

     Perhaps everyone is right.

 

     We have examined various schools of Jewish thought, and each one presented us with a different philosophical approach to the commandments.  Perhaps these philosophers have actually misled us through their insistence that all the commandments be interpreted according to a single  principle.  Often, we are faced with an approach which is built upon generalizations or an extreme form of an idea which is true in certain cases, and not true in others.  Every great philosopher demonstrated the existence of various directions in understanding the commandments.  The Rambam, for example, did this is in his Guide for the Perplexed and in the Mishneh Torah.  It would make sense to assume that a number of approaches are correct, since the commandments themselves contain many different principles.  In addition, it is possible that certain commandments can be understood on various levels, each of which could have a different meaning.  Just as our actions are varied, as they are dictated by various values, so too are the commandments.  For this reason we may perhaps accept Rabbi Samson Rafael Hirsch's division, which classifies the commandments according to different principles.  Rabbi Hirsch uses biblical terminology to form this division: torah, edut (testimony), mishpat (human ethics), chok (non-societal law), mitzva (commandment) and avoda (worship).

 

     However, the important point here is neither the terminology nor the principles, but rather the multidimensionalism of the principles.  Thus, for example, Yeshayahu Leibowitz suggests that we read the entire Torah as worship of God, viewing the encounter with the Divine Being as the core of the Torah, and not necessarily the reasons for specific commandments.  We will return to this position shortly.  This may be true with regard to a certain group of commandments, which we will call commandments of avoda.  In contrast, we must also stress the existence of mishpatim, a system of commandments whose goal is to create a functional society, and the mitzvot, as a system which develops the individual and obligates him to norms beyond the demands of society (mishpat).  To all these we must add the chukim, which define our ethical relationship to the non-human world.  The final element is what the medieval rationalists searched for: the torot, a system of commandments which teach us basic concepts in Jewish thought.

 

     Through the mishpatim, the chukim and the mitzvot, we achieve goodness.  Through the eduyot [testimonies] we reach truth.  Jewish thought expresses the truth, and concretizes it in life through symbolic language.  The avoda, such as the worship in the Temple, or prayer, constitutes in Rabbi Hirsch's view, "a departure from the life of action in order once again to comprehend the life truths which we must consider."  These truths elude us at times due to preoccupation, illusions, or ordinary forgetfulness.  Our modes of worship create a sort of oasis in the desert of life.

 

     We have seen that the commandments express various principles.  However, perhaps the division ought not to stop at categories of commandments; perhaps each particular commandment contains various diverse elements as well.  To truly understand this idea, we must follow in Rabbi Hirsch's footsteps and explore the position which sees the commandments as messages written in symbolic language.  We will devote the next unit to this approach.

 

 

(This lecture was translated by Gila Weinberg.)

 

 

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