I will
sing to the Lord, for He has triumphed gloriously;
horse
and driver He has hurled into the sea.
The Lord
is my strength and might,
He is
become my deliverance.
This is
my God and I will enshrine Him;
the God
of my father, and I will exalt Him.
Adonai
is an ish milchama / Warrior [lit. “man
of war”)] —
Adonai
is His name!
(Exodus
15:1-3)
God as an ish milchama
(“warrior”) disturbs some people. Curiously, it’s not so much the militaristic
image as it is the very human image
that bothers them.
The Rabbis could have easily finessed this verse by saying
that the Israelites experienced the redemption from Egypt so powerfully, it was
as if God were a warrior on their behalf.
Instead, they push what appears to be a metaphor into the “No. Really! Literally!”
zone. Commenting on the first of the Ten Commandments in Exodus chapter 20, midrash
Mekhilta de-Rabbi Yishmael tells us:
I AM THE LORD YOUR GOD. Why is this said? Because at the sea He
appeared to them as a mighty hero doing battle, as it is said: “The Lord is
an ish milchama (warrior) (Exodus
15:3).” At Sinai He appeared to them as an old man full of mercy. It is
said: And they saw the God of Israel
etc. (Exodus 24:10). And of the time after they had been redeemed, what does it
say? And the like of the very heaven for
clarity (Exodus 24:10). Again it says: I
looked until thrones were placed (Daniel 7:9).” And it also says: A fiery stream issued and came forth from
before him etc. (Daniel 7:10). (Mekhilta
de’RabbiYishmael, Bachodesh 5)
The
same tradition is found in midrash Pesikta
Rabbati:
At the Sea of Reeds He
appeared to them as a young man, and at Mount Sinai He appeared to them as an
old man. (Pesikta Rabbati 21:5)
God
appeared twice to the Israelites in human form? In two different human forms? Really?
From my 21st century perch, it is apparent to me
that the images of God as a warrior, or a wise and merciful elder are just that
— images, visual metaphors. They are pictures people create in their minds with
words in order to think about God who is more than our minds and imaginations can
encompass. Our tradition abounds in images of God. For our biblical ancestors,
God was often made manifest in concrete avatars such as angels or a burning
bush. God is king, father, commander. For the Rabbis, God is rooted in the
human heart and mind; we access God through study, prayer, and the observance
of mitzvot. For Rambam (Moses Maimonides), God is the Active Intellect: pure
thought and reason that makes possible this universe, but which does not
directly create it, and does not interact with it. The Kabbalists rejected the
remote, unchanging, disinterested God of the rationalists. They said that God
is not utterly beyond the universe:
the universe is contained within God, whose flow of energy is dynamic and
continuously flows through us, interacting with us. These are not definitions of God; they are images of God.
In the modern age, rationalism
has resurfaced and resonates far more strongly than poetry and mysticism. Many
have tried to reread Torah and rabbinic literature through a rational lens, explaining
and excusing the “ancient texts,” rather than allowing the texts to flow
through them and convey meaning.
How can we move beyond rejectionist rationalism and reclaim
the spirituality of our sacred stories? The French philosopher Paul Ricoeur
wrote of a “Second Naivete” that we reach — intellectually, emotionally, and
spiritually — after we have passed through the critical, rational phase of
intellectual growth. In the Second Naivete we discover another way to engage
sacred text. "Beyond
the desert (Rational stage) of criticism, we wish to be called again." (The Symbolism of Evil, p. 349) Having
shed unquestioning truth and shrugged off the dismissal of our sacred stories
as “mere myth,” we are now open to the spiritual depths of our sacred stories: What
can we learn about life? human nature? becoming better versions of ourselves?
how to live better lives? how to repair the world? It is not a static, ossified
“Truth” we seek, but rather wisdom.
The images, once rejected, return to us as ripe fruit. For
example: In the Bavli (Berakhot 5) the Rabbis envision God as having difficulty
controlling and containing the divine anger. Where does God go? To the Holy of
Holies, where the High Priest gives him a blessing, a prayer to recite each day
— much as any one of us might do to promote our patience and subdue our
tempers. In Eichah Rabbah, the Sages
envision God as a jealous, petulant lover, overwrought that his beloved
(Israel) has dallied with other lovers (idols), and who responds with violent
wrath (the destruction of the First Temple in 586 B.C.E.). The patriarchs,
prophets, and Torah herself implore God to forgive Israel, but God’s ire is red
hot until Rachel appears. Rachel tells God that if she, who is but flesh and
blood, was able to set aside her feelings of jealousy when her sister married
her beloved, Jacob, surely God can do the same. And God does.
The Rabbis give us a God who needs the blessings and counsel
of people. For the Rabbis, God is so far beyond the images they conjure that
there is no danger employing them: Who would take them at face value? So, too,
God’s appearance at the Reed Sea as a young, courageous, virile warrior, and
His appearance at Mt. Sinai as a wise and compassionate elder: there were two revelations of God, not one. God was
revealed at the Sea and at Sinai. The revelation of God was not a one-time
event. Images of God abound, because revelation of God abounds. As the Kotzker
Rebbe taught: "Where is God? Wherever you let
God in."
Rabbi Arthur Green writes:
“For me
the personal God is a bridge between soul and mystery, a personification of the
unknown, a set of projected images that we need and use, rather than an
ultimate reality.” (Radical Judaism, p.
158)
For me, the universe is within God, and God is within us:
the reality and animating force found in every cell of our bodies. Our job is
to discover the meaning and purpose of our existence. When we do, we find the
values and principles to preserve and promote life. We have also found God.
Don’t fear the images. Grab hold of them and let them take
you for a spiritual rollercoaster ride.
© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman
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