Prepared by Rabbi Hamilton
The Baal Shem Tov offered a simile: A musician was playing on a very beautiful instrument, and the music so enraptured the people that they were driven to dance ecstatically. Then a deaf man who knew nothing of the music passed by, and seeing the enthusiastic dancing of the people, he decided they must be insane. Had he been wise he would have sensed their joy and rapture and joined their dancing. Heschel writes, "We do not hear the voice. We only see the words in the Bible. Even when we are deaf, we can see the rapture of the words."
Amidst the details of the Tabernacle and the vestments of the priests in this week's Parasha, God's grand purpose is revealed. "I will abide among the Israelites, and I will be their God. And they shall know that I the Lord am their God, who brought them out from the land of Egypt that I might abide among them, I the Lord their God (Ch. 29:45-46). This is one of the most crucial passages in the Torah. Yet, how shall we know this to be so?
Often I am asked a question about the difference in linguistic style between the Torah and the Haftorah. The Torah, for all of its mystery and 'invitations to midrashic imagination', is relatively clear and straight forward. This is certainly the case in this week's nuts and bolts, point by point, description of priestly vestments and tabernacle dimensions. Contrast this clarity, with the verbiage that is often featured in the Haftorah. Ezekial the prophetic author of this week's Haftorah (even though this Haftorah in particular is relatively concrete) so often employs allegory, metaphor, and esoteric imagery to convey a message. Why isn't the Haftorah written as clearly as is the Torah?
Heschel's insight in God in Search of Man offers an answer which I find compelling.
In empathizing with the plight of the prophet (who is always the author of the Haftorah), Heschel tries to capture what it must have been like for the prophet to try and capture in words a first-hand encounter with God. If such an encounter is ineffable (beyond verbal expression), the prophet's task was mighty indeed.
"The human mind is a repository of a variety of ideas, some of which are definite and expressive while others resist definition and remain ineffable. Correspondingly, there are two kinds of words: descriptive words which stand in fixed relation to conventional and definite meanings, such as concrete nouns, chair, table, or the terms of science; and indicative words which stand in fluid relation to ineffable meanings and, instead of describing, merely intimate something which we intuit but cannot fully comprehend. The content of words such as God, time, beauty, eternity, cannot be faithfully imagined or reproduced in our minds. Still they convey a wealth of meaning. Their function is not to call up a definition in our minds but to introduce us to a reality which they signify. They are not portraits, but clues. They are not to be taken literally nor figuratively but responsively."
"This indeed is our situation in regard to a statement such as "God spoke." It refers to an idea that is not at home in the mind, and the only way to understand its meaning is by responding to it. We must adapt our minds to a meaning unheard before. The word is but a clue; the real burden of understanding is upon the mind and soul of the reader."
According to tradition, God lovingly revealed the Torah 'in the language of human beings' (using words that, even if indicative, were meant to be accessible to us). In the Torah, God speaks to people. In the Prophets, God speaks through people. In the Writings, people speak to God (Rabbi Jonathan Sacks' overview of the three sections of the Bible). The prophet is not as gifted in capturing 'ineffable content' as is God. When God speaks to us in Torah, God distills ineffable truths in discernable, concrete words and statements. When God speaks through a prophet (Ezekial or any other Haftorah passage), it is up to the mortal prophet to try and distill the 'ineffable content' of such an experience - typically necessitating allegory, metaphor, and imagery that represents the best effort of the prophet to convey his encounter with God. This is why, typically, Torah is clearer and more concrete than Haftorah.
But before parting from this subject, I want to dwell a bit longer on the prior assumption (conviction) that Torah is God's word.
"True it seems incredible that we should hold in our gaze words containing the breath of God" Heschel writes. "What we forget is that at this moment, we breathe what God is creating, that right in front of us we behold works that reflect His infinite wisdom, His infinite goodness."
"A hasid, it is told, after listening to the discourse of the one who lectured him about the lofty concept of God according to the philosophers, said "If God were the way you imagine Him, I would not believe in Him." However subtle and noble our concepts may be, as soon as they become descriptive, namely, definite, they confine Him and force Him into the triteness of our minds. Never is our mind so inadequate as in trying to describe God."
Yet, God gifted us His will and word. Why should we assume that the power that can make possible the world's coming into being has never been able to make itself known?
"If the stream of energy that is stored up in the sun and the soil can be channeled into a blade of grass, why should it be a priori excluded that the spirit of God reached into the minds of men?"
"More than two thousand years of reading and research have not succeeded in exploring the Bible's full meaning. In fact it is still at the very beginning of its career."
"There are no words in the world more knowing, more disclosing, and more indispensable, words both stern and graceful, heart-rending, and healing. A truth so universal: God is One. A thought so consoling: He is with us in distress. A responsibility so overwhelming: His name can be desecrated. A map of time: from creation to redemption. Guideposts along the way: the Seventh Day. An offering: contrition of the heart. A utopia: would that all people were prophets. The insight: man lives by faithfulness; his home is in time and his substance in deeds. A standard so bold: ye shall be holy. A commandment so daring: love thy neighbor as thyself. A fact so sublime: human and divine pathos can be in accord. And a gift so undeserved: the ability to repent."
As we strive to see the rapture in words heard by those who came before us (as the Baal Shem Tov's simile suggests), may we cling with fidelity (especially in today's world) to Heschel's prophetic reminder: "There is a passion and drive for cruel deeds which only the awe and fear of God can soothe; there is a suffocating selfishness in man which only holiness can ventilate."
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