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May 21, 2004
Giving, receiving Torah
Every human being has the ability to "channel" God.
RABBI ADIN STEINSALTZ SPECIAL TO THE JEWISH BULLETIN
Shavuot is designated as zman matan Torateinu, the time
of the giving of the Torah: one Torah, given at one time. This is
God's part of the event. But what about ours? What happens on the
receiving end?
We do not receive the Torah once; we receive it every day. And we
do not all receive the same Torah; each of us receives the Torah
meant just for us, because each of us is different.
The Torah is not a textbook. If a textbook is objectively good,
I may study from it, but how I relate to it is irrelevant. I cannot
argue with the mathematics it presents. I cannot argue with the
rules of grammar it lays out. Certainly, I can learn from it, but
it is not that important to me, because it is utterly independent
of me. It says what it says. With the Torah, on the other hand,
I have to find my message. I have to figure out our relationship.
Therefore, I have to care. I cannot glide over the text, I have
to engage it.
But how do I prepare myself to receive the unique message God's
Torah has for me? How do I get ready to convene with God? According
to Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi – the 18th-century mystic and
talmudist – the precondition for this meeting is "self-nullification."
As developed in the Tanya, his quietly revolutionary work, self-nullification
requires one to separate from their ego, their smugness.
This is not to denigrate the ego. We need our egos in order to grow,
to fulfil the biblical charge to master the world, to effect tikkun
olam (repair of the world). But, just as we suspend our physical
creativity (i.e., the tangible expression of our ego) on Shabbat
and yom tovim, we must also subordinate our egos during those activities
in which we seek to join our will to God's.
Judges, for example, acting as emissaries of God in the search for
truth and justice, must put aside their personal feelings in order
to adjudicate fairly. They cannot disregard the facts and side with
a poor petitioner over a wealthy one because they feel the wealthy
one can better "afford" to lose; they must decide according
to the law. Similarly, prophets can only prophesy when they transcend
themselves and become conduits for God's words. As we read in Kings
II (3:11-15), when Elisha becomes angry – that is, when his
ego is engaged – he cannot prophesy.
One need not be in a position as exalted as judge or prophet, however,
in order to become a vessel through which God enters the world.
Samuel II (6:14) relates how King David dances with utter abandon
as he welcomes the Holy Ark back to Jerusalem. Temporarily casting
off his ego identities – of king, conqueror and poet –
and, perhaps, even his modesty, he is open to God, and God's approval
is clear: David's wife, who reprimands him for his lack of "dignity,"
is severely punished.
Each of us also has the ability to "channel" God. When
we forget ourselves in prayer, we let God enter. When we give tzedakah
– not as an expression of our power, but as an agent of God
in the distribution of His bounty – we are God's conduit into
the world. When we learn Torah as a way of unifying our minds with
His, we increase God's presence on earth. This Shavuot, and every
day, each of us has the ability to receive the Torah – our
Torah – and become a vehicle for holiness.
Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz, an author, scholar and social
critic, is founder of a worldwide network of Jewish educational
institutions. His efforts are supported by the Aleph Society. Ideas
from this column are expounded upon in his book Opening the
Tanya: Discovering the Moral & Mystical Teachings of a Classic
Work of Kabbalah, published by Jossey-Bass: Wiley.
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