February 9th: Mishpatim
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
The Torah portions in this section of Exodus are jam-packed with God’s commandments and instructions, but the setting of these revelations is also important. Moses is alone with God and receiving wisdom. Up there on Mount Sinai, Moses becomes as close to the Lord as any human possibly can. Filled with Torah and holiness, his connection to the Divine is so inspired that beams of light shine from his face even when he returns to the people.
(These beams of light are misportrayed in Michelangelo’s famous statue of Moses with horns—on the tomb of Pope Julius II in the Church of St. Peter in Chains in Rome. The Torah speaks of these beams of light, but an ancient Latin mistranslation speaks of horns…)
Of all the Prophets, Moses’ relationship with God is the most intimate. As we read in Moses’ obituary in the final chapter of Deuteronomy, “Never again did there arise in Israel a prophet like Moses—whom the Lord singled out, face to face…” This relationship is also the most frequent. Whereas an Abraham or a Jacob has less than a dozen revelatory moments, Moses seems to be speaking with God on a regular basis. This means that Moses, perhaps more than other religious people, must spend more effort transitioning between God-consciousness and earthly demands. While the ideal is for every human being to have a relationship with the Divine and to manifest God’s wisdom and commandments in daily life, we often have difficulty with the divide between heaven and earth. Even those who are very moved by prayer must still figure out how to live that holiness in the challenges and business of life.
Years ago, Pensacola, Florida became a world center of charismatic Christianity when a one night revival was “seized by the Spirit” and continued for several years. From 1995 to 2000, “The Pensacola Outpouring” brought more than four million pilgrims to the Brownsville Assembly of God–and to the hotels and restaurants of the Florida Panhandle. (There were even several bus trips from State College.) As one can imagine, there were lots of conversations about the revival, with many people wondering about the veracity of the miracles: Is God really there? Is the spiritual atmosphere real—or is it some kind of mass hysteria or fraud? There were many newspaper stories, and, for one, several local clergy were asked their opinions. I think my reply surprised the reporter when I said that God is absolutely present at the revival. Since God is omnipresent—everywhere—and since God is interested in relating to everyone, why would God not be there at the revival and accessible to all those Pentecostals? The real question, I said as I shifted the focus, is whether the people so moved by the Presence of God at the revival bring heavenly sensibilities to their earthly lives. Do they treat other people with kindness and fairness? Do they give charity? Do they follow traffic laws and pay their child support? If their lives are thus affected positively by God’s Presence at the revival—if God’s Presence is not merely entertainment, then the revival and all the worship is real and a blessing.
In Jewish terms, this is akin to the verse where God tells Moses that, “You have stayed long enough at this mountain” (Deuteronomy 1.6). It is time to go out into the world and get to work. Actually, this instruction is to both Moses and Israel, for Moses’ time alone with God is an example of what all Israel experiences in the wilderness. The forty-year sojourn is a time of religious instruction and intensity. As Tradition teaches, God tells Moses the entire Torah, and then Moses teaches it all to the people. Unencumbered by having to make a living or grow food or even clean or repair their clothing, they can devote themselves completely to prayer and Torah study—and develop a wonderful closeness to the Lord. And so, for us as well as Moses, bringing the heavenly Torah to the challenges of earth is a mitzvah—our obligation and honor.
There has always been a tension in Judaism—and in other religions—between the ethereal beauty of prayer, meditation, and sacred study and our earthly conflicts, problems, and contradictions. It is a tension to be assuaged—a potential gap that needs to be bridged, and one of the tasks of religion is to help us in this process. Though we may be tempted to ignore the gap and just live on one side—spending our lives praying and meditating OR spending our lives in the world, we are called to both aspects of life: to both the spiritual and the physical worlds.
This was the point, I believe, of the ancient Sage Simon the Righteous in his most famous advice. He used to say: “Al sh’loshah d’varim ha’olam omed/ On three things does the world stand: al haTorah, v’al ha’avodah, v’al g’milut chasadim/on Torah study, on worship, and on deeds of lovingkindness.” (Avot 1.2) The people whom he was addressing—Scribes, Rabbis, students—already knew about the importance of Torah and Worship—of spending time “up on the mountain” with God. What they needed is a reminder about the third leg of this three-legged stool. Good deeds are of equal importance.
For us, a different emphasis may be necessary. We know about the importance of good deeds. Tikkun Olam / The Repair of the World is a kind of watch-word among modern Jews. However, we may need a little nudging about the first two legs: Torah and Worship are just as important as kindness and justice. We need some time “up on the mountain,” thinking about God, relating to God, and considering the ways that heaven and earth can connect.
To be continued…