Shabbat Shalom and
gut yontif. I hope your fast is moving along safely. You should be feeling some
hunger pains by now and allowing the discomfort remind you of the discomfort
you make have inflicted on others in the last year, the discomfort of the
hungry you have looked away from, and thinking about how this feeling will
shape your teshuvah for the year to come. However, if you feel like you are going
to pass out at any time today, please eat or drink something, and/or rest in
one of our empty classrooms. I’ll be here all day, and I promise you can rejoin
whenever you’re ready. Your teshuvah will still be counted.
This reminder is
important, as sometime we allow the Yom Kippur liturgy and the importance of
the day cloud our judgement, or we allow perceived judgements from others whose
bodies are able to withstand fasting differently to make us feel guilty. Those
who are here doing true teshuvah, those who fast in some way even if you are
not able to deprive your body of food for the day, will still be written in the
Book of Life. One of the central prayers of Yom Kippur is the U’netaneh Tokef
prayer, “Who Shall Live and Who Shall Die” poem with all it’s possible outcomes
for the year. It invokes a feeling of doomsday upon this day, and while some
sentiment of that is helpful in connecting with our guilt and our atonement, I
don’t want anyone to feel that they should actually risk meeting our Maker for
the sake of this day.
In his book The
Seven Questions You’re Asked in Heaven,” Dr. Ron Wolfson writes that
U’netaneh Tokef has always been the most moving part of the whole body of high
holy day liturgy for him, even as a child. Imagining the scene of judgement
alluded to in the poem, young Ron would picture it like a courtroom drama such
as he might see on TV, except instead of a human judge and jury, God and the
angels filled the courtroom, while each of us hearing the prayer simultaneously
stand alone before them, facing judgement. What sort of questions might the
Judge ask to determine if you should be written in the Book of Life or the Book
of Death for the year to come?
In the Talmud
(Shabbat 31a), the fourth century safe Rava said that when a person gets to
heaven they are first asked, “Were you honest in business?” Dr. Wolfson reports
in his book discovering this piece of text and being shocked that the ancient
rabbis would believe God would ask about common business before assessing the
person’s faith and regularity of prayer. Of course, dedication to prayer and
Torah study are also in the list of five questions Rava believes will be asked,
but they come after honesty with other humans.
Besides the five questions Rava provides,
Dr. Wolfson adds two more to the list from modern Jewish thinkers. Samson
Raphael Hirsch, the first Modern Orthodox philosopher, thought God’s question
would be, “Did you see my Alps?” By this, he means, did you make the most out
of your life, did you see the wonders of the world, did you appreciate the
beauty of nature? If you spend all your time only in the synagogue, asking God
to make miracles for you, you will never have the chance to appreciate the
miracles God has already created. Martin Buber, influential 19th
century philosopher, suggested the question upon reaching heaven would be, “Why
were you trying to be Moses? Why were you not you?” Similar to Hirsch, Buber is
also suggesting something to the effect of making the most of your life. Though
it is lacking the framework of appreciating natural miracles, just as Hirsch
thought we should go out and achieve all the travels on our “bucket lists”,
Buber seems to be saying, we should be sure to check off our spiritual bucket
list as well. Did we say all that we wanted to say in life? Did we teach our most
honest Torah? Did we let our best and truest selves shine through, even when it
seemed like others wanted us to conform to some other idea of who we were
supposed to be?
I can appreciate why Dr. Wolfson would be
surprised by these questions, but I am not at all surprised. Though they are
not framed as questions about God, faith, or seemingly the fullest assessments
of our lives, they check off the most important values. How did we live? Were
we honest, to ourselves and others? Did we appreciate what we had, and took
opportunities to appreciate more? Did we live this life in this life, being
human and realistic, or did we keep an eye on the world to come all our years,
being so preoccupied with avoiding mistakes that we never made gains either?
In this morning’s
Torah reading, we read the words “[the Torah] is not in heaven, Lo Bashamayim
Hi.” Moses is telling the people of Israel, poised to enter the promised land,
that each of them have access to God’s teachings, and each of them will be
expected to uphold God’s law. In the eyes of God, every human is b’tzelem
Elohim, created in the Divine image, and thus is equally responsible for
upholding the commandments, equally deserving of God’s love. In another section
of the Talmud (Bava Metzia 59), the earliest rabbis argue about the kashrut of
an oven. Rabbi Eliezer believes the oven in question is Kosher. The other rabbis
are not sure. Eliezer says, "If the law is as I say, let this carob tree
prove it." The tree suddenly uprooted itself and flew about the length of
a football field. The Sages, unimpressed, commented that a proof of Jewish law
cannot be brought from a carob tree. Rabbi Eliezer continued, "If the law
is as I say, let this stream of water prove it," at which point the stream
began to flow uphill! Again, his fellow rabbis were unconvinced. So Rabbi
Eliezer continued, "If the law is as I say, let the walls of this study
hall prove it." Suddenly, the walls began to cave in. Finally, a voice
from heaven calls out, “Why must you continue to argue with Rabbi Eliezer? The
law is as he says!” And the sages reply, “The Law is not in heaven, Lo
Bashamayim Hi.” The heavenly voice laughed and said, “My children have defeated
me!” And the law was decided according to the consensus of all the other
rabbis.
It may or may not
have been so honest of the rabbis to insist upon their way when the forces of
God and nature clearly agreed with Eliezer, but it illustrates that Torah is
not in heaven, and neither should our concerns be. God, Torah, reward, bereavement,
atonement, amends, all these things exist here on Earth with us. We can’t ever
really know who is written in the Book of Life or the Book of Death, we may
never know what will happen tomorrow, and Judaism is a bit vague or
argumentative with itself about what comes next. What we do know is that here and
now, we can live by the guidelines of God’s teaching. To act in righteousness,
to go about our daily business honestly and with an open heart, to appreciate
and care for the natural world, to be ourselves fully. By doing these things,
we can ensure we are being our best selves, and upholding Torah in this world.
Because that is where it belongs. Lo Bashamayim Hi.
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