(׆)
וַיְהִ֛י בִּנְסֹ֥עַ הָאָרֹ֖ן וַיֹּ֣אמֶר מֹשֶׁ֑ה קוּמָ֣ה ׀ יְהוָ֗ה וְיָפֻ֙צוּ֙ אֹֽיְבֶ֔יךָ וְיָנֻ֥סוּ מְשַׂנְאֶ֖יךָ מִפָּנֶֽיךָ׃(וּבְנֻחֹ֖ה יֹאמַ֑ר שׁוּבָ֣ה יְהוָ֔ה רִֽבְב֖וֹת אַלְפֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃ (׆
This week we take from a sermon given by Rabbi Norman Lamm in 1966. You see, we take from all sides of the religious spectrum.
I have spoken several times In the last few weeks on what
I consider is and should be the philosophy of modern Orthodoxy:
a total commitment to the halachah while living in this world
and participating in it fully — culturally, economically, and
politically.
We spoke critically, even if warmly and lovingly, of
a new tendency noticeable in orthodoxy in recent years to recoil, to
-
recede from the larger community and ignore all those whose interests
do not coincide with ours. Our thesis, is that this withdrawal from
the world, this refusal to confront contemporary life, is not a
viable philosophy for orthodox Judaism in our times. I believe that
this is a theme that needs constant reiteration, continuous consideration, and deep reflection.
Today, however, I wish to emphasize the other side of the coin: the
caution that we must exercise never to lose ourselves in the world, not
to be overly impressed with the great culture in which we live.
This point is made with consummate skill in a comment by the
Kabballstic Midrash Ha-ne'elam on a famous passage in today's parasha which we will all recognize from our siddurim: "va-yehi be'neso'a
ha-aron, and it was when the ark set out", that Moses offered up a brief prayer, asking God to rise (or: reveal Himself), and that His
enemies scatter before Him. Those who paid careful attention to the
Torah reading this morning will have noticed that this brief passage
of two verses is surrounded, on either side, by a special mark — the inverted Hebrew letter nun. These two nunin hafukhin, Inverted nuns,
are part of our Masoretic tradition. What do these strange symbols, which appear nowhere else in the Torah mean?
The author of Midrash Ha-ne'elam spares no words In describing their enormous
significance. They are, we are told,
"kevodo shel ha-Kadosh baruch hu
mammash, vhem ikkaro shel olam. t
he very glory of God, and the
foundation of the world." It is because of this that Yackov blessed
his children with them; for one of Yackov's chief blessings for his
grandchildren was
"ve'yldgu la-rov, let them be plentiful." The word
yidgu Is derived from the Hebrew dag, for fish. Another word In
Hebrew and Aramaic for fish Is nun. Thus the Targum reads, for the
blessing we just mentioned
"u~khe'nunei yamma yisgun-—» let them be
as plentiful as the fish of the sea"
Furthermore, this midrash continues, the Almighty excluded Idol
worshipers from the fraternity of these two nunin, and that is why the
pagans always bear enmity towards Israel. But finally,
"u-v'elu nunin
atid Ha-Kadosh baruch hu li'ferok lehu le'ylsrael al yedei Mashiach —
the Almighty will redeem Israel and bring the Mashiach by virtue of
these two nunim, the Inverted Hebrew letters nun."
Thus, in sacred extravagance, holy hyperbole, and marvelous
mystery, the Rabbis offer us not a mere play on words to delight our
literary sense, but exciting spiritual insights that go to the heart
of our problem,
For what they mean is that the letter nun means fish, and therefore
the inverted letters, the nunin hafuchin, symbolize fish that are
willing to swim upstream, against the tide, against the currents and
tendencies of their surroundings. It is this remarkable quality which
characterizes the true Jew and distinguishes him from the pagan. The
authentic Jew must be able to dissent, to keep apart, to be unpopular, if necessary, to oppose the tide, to swim upstream. A man who cannot swim upstream cannot affirm his own independent judgement against the mob.
He neither respects himself nor loves himself, and one who does not love
himself, cannot love others. And our Torah commanded us: "love thy
neighbor as thyself," not "hate thy neighbor as thyself,"
The upstream tradition of Judaism means that we must dare to be
different. It means that when religious observance is frowned upon,
we must frown right back add follow the dictates of our conscience and
the teachings of the halachah, It means that when religion is popular
but for the wrong reasons — such as social and aesthetic reasons — we
must not hesitate to say so openly and urge people to practice their
religion for the proper motives.
When others, for instance, consider
it good style to indulge in uninhibited and unrestrained lavishness,
whether in the pagan ornateness of the funeral, or the vulgar exhibitionism
of the gala Bar-Mitzvah, we must not fear to affirm our upstream
mentality; to assert the delicacy of Judaism's democratic traditions, and its insistence upon simplicity and the emphasis upon the spiritual and
the religious.
Whenever we find society in violation of the sacred ideals of Judaism, we must become the nunin hafuchin, those who are
willing to go upstream and not downstream. We must do so even if we
are excoriated, even if the pagans bear us enmity because of it.
The upstream tradition of Judaism also means to dare to be alone.
The very heavy emphasis of the midrash on the theological significance of
the nunin — that they represent the very glory of God and the foundation
of the world — shows that true religious distinction comes not when it is easy to be religious but when one's loyalty is tested in the
crucible of heroism. That is why profound religious thinkers add
philosophers from Professor Whitehead to Rabbi Soloveitchik speak so
often and so broodingly of loneliness as a major component of religious
thought and experience. To be different, to go against the tide,
often leaves man with a feeling of aloneness; but that is what makes
man worthy and life worthwhile.
Concerning the nunin hafuchin, Rashi declares that these
simanim, these special symbols, come to show that she'ein zeh
mekomo, this is not the proper place for the passage va-yehl bl'neso'a
ha-aron.
" Indeed so any place is rarely the right place for the
Ark and the Torah! How beautifully Rashl hits upon an eternal and
tragic theme: the unfortunate quality of being out-of-place that so often characterizes truth and dignity. As a people of Torah, we have
been declared exiles and foreigners, she ein zeh mekomo, In almost
every land on this globe, Jews who today remain loyal to Torah and the
message of vayehi bl'neso'a ha-aron, often have that feeling — add
they are correct. — that they can never find their proper makom even in normal Jewish society today!
The Ark cannot abide the moral ambiguities, the ethical ambivalence,
and the complacent rationalizations of people who ignore Torah and yet
lay claim to decency and rightness. To follow the upstream tradition
of Judaism means to accept beforehand the great risk of discovering,
at every point of your life, she'eln zeh mekomo -- that you have failed
to strike roots in any specific historical society, that you have no real makom In the world of compromising men and rationalized ideals.
To be different and unpopular and risk loneliness is often extremely
difficult and painful. Hence, the quite normal desire for assimilation
by the minority to the majority, the desire to emulate the non-Jew and
adopt whatever is not particularly Jewish. This tendency is reflected in an anecdote which is part of the bitter-sweet folklore of our
people, which often possesses more wisdom than many a philosophy book.
It is told of a maskil, an enlightened non-believer, that he received
the honor of reciting the blessing over the Torah, he performed this
act with great devotion, concentrating with obvious piety and sincerity
upon the words asher bahar banu, thanking God who has chosen us from all
other people to give us the Torah. When he was asked by the congregants
why he, a non-believer, demonstrated so much piety in reciting this
blessing, he answered in explanation that he very genuinely meant what
he said. "Now that God has given the Torah and the commandments to Jews, I feel that I need not observe them; had He given them to the gentiles, I
would have been impelled by the desire to emulate everything non-Jewish
to accept upon myself the terrific burden of studying Torah and observing
the mitzvot.
This, indeed, is the downstream tendency so typical of
many Jews who may not admit to it openly: flowing gently with the tides
of the times into the cisterns of assimilation and the backwaters of
oblivion.
But the way of Torah is different it is the way of differentness.
There was a gentile prophet who said of us that we are
"am le'vada yishkon.
a nation that dwells apart and by itself." What Balaam meant was Jewish
originality, spiritual uniqueness and validity. The upstream tendency
of Judaism means that a Jewish home must be different from other homes;
that the Jewish synagogue must — in its structure, its worship, its
ritual,— be unlike other houses or worship ;that Jewish education
must be different from the usual; that Jewish tzedakah must not be the
normal kind of charity; that a Jewish university must be more than just
a good ordinary university; and that Israel must be more than just
another political entity.
This is what the midrash meant when it said
that God would bring the Mashiach by virtue of the inverted nunin: that the Jewish vision of redemption is that we, finally, will be true to
ourselves, that every nation will be itself and every individual
himself or herself.
The differentness of the State of Israel does
not mean that it can have no diplomatic relations, no foreign aid,
no exchange students. It does mean that, involved with the world,
it nonetheless must not surrender its own soul and abandon its own
uniqueness.
This, then, is the meaning for us of the inverted letters. We
must never swallow western civilization whole. We must always stand
a bit aside. We must never forget that it was western civilization
that produced that obscene execration called Auschwitz — and it was
the philosopher Santayana who warned us that he who forgets history is doomed to relive it. The nation that gave us Auschwitz was the
most advanced in the world -- scientifically, technologically, and
culturally too. Only recently I read that one of the leaders of the
Gestapo, Heydrich, of accursed ,memory, used to gather his friends to
his home twice a week for a M gemutliche Abende" of Bach, Mozart and
other priceless musical compositions. When he became governor-general
of Czechoslovakia, he set for himself two priorities above all others:
to liquidate every Jewish man, woman, and child in his territory; and
to rebuild the Prague Opera House as a center for music lovers of all
Europe.
Now this does not mean that music and culture, science and
engineering, are treif . It does net mean that we can or should
resign from western civilization. It does mean that we must keep
somewhat aloof, that we must adopt a critical stance and not embrace it
blindly. It means we must exercise dissent and criticism, intelligence
and judgment. It means that we must confront all of modern culture,
but not necessarily capitulate to it; we must face all the facts of -
rejecting all that is morally abominable, never succumbing to that
which affronts our conscience as Jews and as humans.
It means that
va-yehi bi'neso'a ha-aron, the march of Judaism and Israel through
history must often be characterized by nunln hafukhln, by going upstream,
by opposing the tides of the times.
This afternoon we shall read In the Pirkei Avos the
famous mishnah:
"ezohi ha-derekh ha-yesharah she'yavor lo ha-adam, which is a right way that a man should choose for himself? — Kol she'hi
tiferet 1'oseha ve'tiferet lo min ha-adam, whatever is fitting and
proper for the one who does it, and fitting to him from the man"
That last idiom is usually taken to mean: that his actions are regarded
appropriate and proper by society. But more careful study of the idiom
reveals an entirely opposite meaning. What the Rabbis meant was that
the right way for a man in life is not only one that is fitting for
him generally, but that is also fitting for him min ha-adam, from the
man, It must accord with his own inner self, it must issue from the
deepest recesses of his own spirit and conscience. The right way is one that is not dictated by the taste and temperament of others, but
by my own inner conscience; by my convictions, not those of my contemporaries;
by my standards,not those of my society; by my faith,
not that of my friends.
This is the way we must choose for ourselves. It is the way of
va-yehi bi'neso'a ha-aron, the way of the Ark of the Law in its perminations through the wilderness of time: whether it is with the tides or against
them, upstream or downstream, our way shall always be: ha-derekh hayeshara - the right way.
