People who know how everyone else
should live their lives astound me. I
find it’s a full-time occupation figuring out my own life. Maybe there’s a
computer for this? The supercomputer “Deep Thought” in Douglas Adams’ The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is
constructed by a race of hyper-intelligent, pan-dimensional beings. Its purpose
is to provide the “ultimate answer to the ultimate question of life, the
universe, and everything.” Good deal. Too bad it’s fiction.
This week we open the Torah to Sefer B’midbar, the Book of Numbers,
which largely recounts the Israelites’ 40-year trek through the Wilderness in
pursuit of answers to the questions put to Deep Thought. In addition, as we bid
goodbye to shabbat, we usher in Shavuot, which celebrates Matan Torah (the Giving of the Torah) at Mt. Sinai. From the Wilderness
to the mountaintop -- shall we say from questions to answers?
Ah, but it’s not that simple. Torah
is not the Jewish version of “Deep Thought,” generating answers to any question
posed. Torah is actually more than “Deep Thought.”
It’s curious that Torah takes us
from the creation of the cosmos just up to the border of Eretz Yisrael. In all
of Torah, with the exception of the ill-fated episode of the spies
reconnoitering the Land, no one sets a toe in the Land of Israel. Perhaps that
is because we’re always in the Wilderness -- always asking questions, always
searching for answers: To what purpose our lives? Where should we invest our
energies? What is the meaning of our experience? How do we make ethical
decisions? And even when we think we’ve found some answers, we realize that
they only generate more questions.
We might hope that Psalm 107:4-8
encapsulates our life experience:
Some lost their way in the wilderness, in the wasteland;
they found no settled place.
Hungry and thirsty, their spirit failed.
In their adversity they cried to the Lord,
And he rescued them from their troubles.
He showed them a direct way to reach a settled place.
Let them praise the Lord for his steadfast love,
His wondrous deeds for humanity;
For he has satisfied the thirsty,
filled the hungry with all good thing.
The seemingly simplistic mechanism
described in the psalm is not how the world works. God doesn’t swoop down and
solve our dilemmas. Torah doesn’t churn out answers to every question. But
perhaps that’s not how we are to understand the poet’s verses.
Let’s start with our parashah. B’midbar devotes three chapters to a
census taken in the Wilderness:
Take a census of the whole Israelite community by the
clans of its ancestral houses, listing the names, every male, head by head.
(Numbers 1:2)
The people are counted, tribe by tribe, clan
by clan, and detailed tribal enrollment numbers are recorded. Why? Because, I
would suggest, life is with people: living in family and community, forging
relationships, and working them out. It is in the context of relationships that
we find purpose and make our lives meaningful. It is in the context of
relationships that we face the most challenging ethical conundrums and
questions about meaning. We need to take a census of the people in our lives,
the relationships that constitute our world.
But whence the answers? We might
hope to find them in Torah. From the Wilderness to the mountaintop where one
can see everything -- it’s a nice image but Torah is not “Deep Thought” for
anyone who thinks deeply.
Zohar,
the seminal work in Jewish mysticism, teaches that Torah will lead us to
answers, but it’s not a simple computerized process.
R. Shimon said: “Woe to the human being who says that Torah
presents mere stories and ordinary words! If so, we could compose a Torah right
now with ordinary words, and better than all of them. To present matters of the
world? Even rulers of the world possess words more sublime. If so, let us
follow them and make a Torah out of them. Ah, but all the words of Torah are
sublime words, sublime secrets!... Woe to the wicked who say that Torah is
merely a story! They look at this garment and no further. Happy are the
righteous who look at Torah properly! As wine must sit in a jar, so Torah must
sit in this garment. So look only at what is under the garment. All those words
and all those stories are garments. (Zohar 3:152a)
For the mystics, Torah holds
answers, but they are secrets encoded in its words and available only through
meditation and interpretation. For those of us who are not mystics, we can take
this meaning from the Zohar: Torah is not a book of quick, easy answers. Its
words must flow through us, enabling us to ask the right questions and find our
own truths.
Parshat
B’midbar affirms this. B’midbar concludes (chapter 4) with instructions
on breaking camp. The levitical Kohathite clan is charged with porterage. The
Tabernacle’s sacred objects are to be covered with blue, crimson, and purple
cloths, and dolphin skins. The objects sit in garments, as the Zohar tells us Torah does. Coverings are
tantalizing. They invite us to rip them off to find what is concealed beneath.
B’midbar
ends with these words:
The Lord spoke
to Moses and Aaron, saying: Do not let the group of Kohathite clans be cut off
from the Levites. Do this with them, that they may live and not die when they
approach the most sacred objects: let Aaron and his sons go in and assign each
of them to his duties and to his porterage. But let not [the Kohathites] go
inside and witness [inside the sanctuary] lest they die. (Numbers 4:17-20)
We never see or know it all. We’re
always “outside” to some degree. But did you expect all the answers before you
die?
In The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, after 7.5 million years of
continuous computation, Deep Thought returns the ultimate answer: 42. But the
Ultimate Question remains a mystery! Perhaps Douglas Adams provides genuine
Torah here: we may think we have the answers, but did we really ask the right
questions? So too the Psalmist provides great wisdom. God provides food and
drink, not in the conventional, simplistic way the Zohar warns against, but in a far deeper way: Torah, our mayim chaim (“life-giving waters”) helps
us shape our questions, as well as find answers that generate more questions,
sending us searching for more truths. We climb higher up Sinai, deeper into
God. Perhaps that’s the whole point. The Jewish approach to truth is to cherish
your questions even more than your answers.
© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman
I got a lot out of this; thanks.
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