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| Camp Schneller, originally an Ottoman Orphanage |
During my last year of military service in the IDF, I was
posted to “Camp Shneller”, a base conveniently Shabbes, Shabbes, Goyim!”
in protest. I couldn’t resist the temptation and would often prop out my window
and respond with a hearty “Shabbat shalom gam lachem, to you too!”.
located in my home town of Jerusalem
(after serving in the Gaza Strip as the second Intifada broke out, it was time
for a break). “Shneller” towered over Me’a Shearim, the heart of Ultra Orthodox
Jerusalem, a dot of army green in a sea of pious black. On Shabbat, wayward
Haredi teenagers would come to the gate and yell “
One of the best parts of serving at Shneller was that I was
allowed to pop out for prayer services, 3 times a day. Never since have I been
as devout a “minyan”-goer as that year… Shabbat had me away from my post for
hours on end, as prayer services often turned into a meal hosted by a Haredi
family (unbeknownst to my officers…). Continuing a long tradition of Jewish beggars,
I quickly learned which families served the best food and developed a strong
preference to their synagogue. I’m forever indebted to the gracious hospitality
of the families of Me’a Shearim…
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| Surat al-Fatiha |
It was at one such meal that my host informed me: “Someone
who follows Halakha is not afraid of anything!” I perked up, as I had always
thought Haredim – which literally means “those who fear” – are defined by their
fear. Whether they fear for God’s word, or fear Modernity and his henchmen - secular
Jewish sovereignty and smartphones. He surprised me by reaching to a shelf and
pulling out a Quran. He read the Surat Al-Fatiha, the opening chapter of
the Quran and the centerpieces of Muslim Prayer:
Praise be to God, Lord of the Worlds!
Merciful to all, Compassionate to each!
Lord of the Day of Judgment –
It is You we worship, and upon You we
call for help.
Guide us to the straight path,
The path of those upon whom your
grace abounds.
Not those upon whom anger falls,
Nor those who are lost.
(Quran, Opening / Fatiha)
He continued to tell me his life story – a classic Israeli tale of becoming
religious: growing up in a secular home, travelling to India after the army,
encountering spirituality. Something drew him to Islam – and there this Sura
found him. The metaphor of the paths stuck with him. Living a fully modern
life, all paths are open to me, he felt. But they are not equal. Some paths
might incur divine wrath. Most will simply get me lost. How to find the STRAIGHT
path, and what guides will help stick to it. This question eventually led him
to a life where there is not only a straight path, but a narrow one. All the
better to stay on it…
To him Halakha – literally walking the path – means
one never has to fear losing one’s way, for there are clear signposts along the
path. There is never any doubt – Halakha defines the boundaries of the path,
and thus provides certainty to those who walk on it. This week’s Torah portion,
Behukotai, opens with a similar metaphor:
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If you walk in My laws,
and keep My
commandments, and do them;
Then I will
give your rains in their season, and the land shall yield her produce, and
the trees of the field shall yield their fruit…
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אִם-בְּחֻקֹּתַי, תֵּלֵכוּ;
וְאֶת-מִצְוֹתַי תִּשְׁמְרוּ, וַעֲשִׂיתֶם אֹתָם.
וְנָתַתִּי גִשְׁמֵיכֶם, בְּעִתָּם;
וְנָתְנָה הָאָרֶץ יְבוּלָהּ, וְעֵץ הַשָּׂדֶה יִתֵּן פִּרְיוֹ.
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At first glance this a simple conditional proposition. If we
walk along the straight path – we will receive blessing. If we do not, we will
find ourselves among “those upon whom anger falls” (read the rest of chapter 26
to see what happens to those unfortunate souls…).
Rabbi Mordechai Lainer of Izbica, in his radical Hassidic Mei
haShiloach, flips the certainty of “walking the path of Halakha” on its
head.
“If you follow in My laws” – “if” is a
language of doubt. For who can know whether they are fulfilling the Torah to
the depth of God’s intent…
And
for this reason the verse here uses a language of doubt, “If you follow
in my laws”. For even if a person fulfills all of the Shulkhan Aruch [the
classic treatise of Jewish law]– he is still in doubt whether he arrived at the
depth of Divine intent. For God’s intent is deep, too deep to find.
In
addition, “if” is a language of prayer. For God – as it were – is praying: “If
only you would walk in my laws and reach the depth of my intent…”
(Mei HaShiloach, II Behukotai)
Yes, there is Halakha. But there is also Divine will. And those
two are not always aligned. Admitting the gap between the two is a radical move
for Jewish tradition. If there is a hope for a liberal, progressive Halakha, it
lives in the crevices between the two.
And amid those crevices, God prays. The Mei haSiloach touches
here upon another deep anxiety: that people will understand not only what I
said, but what I mean; what my intent is. Whether God or Human, there is a huge
gap between what we say and what we mean. Between the initial instruction and actually
walking the “straight and narrow”. Recognizing this doubt, whether in regard to
Divine intent or human intent, is hard. But navigating the gap is the task of
those who seek to truly walk the path, straightening the crookedness of the
path with their heels. In the face of doubt, the honest response is not a façade
of certainty, but a quiet prayer. I hope you understand what I mean.
Shabbat Shalom,
Mishael
