March 8th: Vayakhel
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
Last week, we looked at the mass hysteria that leads the Israelites into apostasy—and how unbridled anger could lead God into a similarly destructive rampage. We also considered the way that a minority—sometimes a very small minority—can seize power in a group and “lead the group” into actions the group neither desires nor affirms.
The sin of the Golden Calf—breaking three of the Ten Commandments in one fell swoop—is so egregious that the authors of the Torah are quite negative in their evaluation of the Israelites. “They have been quick to turn aside from the way that I enjoined them…This is a stiff-necked people…You know that this people is bent on evil.” (Exodus 32.8-9, 22) The idea is that the idolatry came from a place of irreligion and sin.
Another possibility, however, is that this religious excess came from a place of insatiable religiosity—that the people were so sanctified by God’s miracles and Presence that they wanted more and more and more. “So, You’ve freed us from Egypt with Ten Plagues and the Splitting of the Red Sea. And You’ve fed us Manna in the desert. And You’ve made us Your Chosen People and given us the Ten Commandments. Wonderful, but what have You done for us LATELY?!”
There is something in the human soul that is never satisfied. As we read in our Yizkor Service on Yom Kippur, “The eye is never satisfied with seeing; endless are the desires of the heart. No mortal has ever had enough of riches, honor, and wisdom.” And, I would add, the spiritual wonder of God’s Presence.
Some humans seem to have a proclivity for spiritual awareness—and are open to moments when they sense a closeness to God or spiritual intensity. These moments can be beautiful and wonderful and elevating and grounding—and very difficult to describe. This is why the great Rabbi and mystic Abraham Joshua Heschel uses the word ineffable: sometimes we experience or sense things that are impossible to describe in words—but are nonetheless remarkably compelling. These kinds of experiences are universal among religions, and, though they may be described/understood differently, they are often are quite similar. Among these commonalities are two kinds of reactions. Some of us are bowled over by such moments and just bask in the glow, while others are so taken that they yearn for more.
According to Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi, this desire for more is at the basis of religious ritual. As he puts it, religious rituals are “peak experience domesticated.” Something amazing happens—perhaps long ago, and we want to feel it just as it was first experienced: to relive the closeness to the Eternal. Thus do Jews try to recreate both the pain of slavery and the elation of freedom. Thus do Christians try to recreate the intimacy of the apostles with Jesus at the Last Supper and at the Cross. Thus do Muslims on the Haj seek to recreate Abraham’s renunciation of Satan and temptation and sin. We Jews even get didactic about it: “In every generation, each person should feel that he/she personally went out of Egypt, as it is commanded in Exodus 13, ‘You shall tell your child on that day, “I do this because of what the Lord did for me when I came out of Egypt.”’” (Rabban Gamliel, Mishna Pesachim 10.5) The Presence of God—however one defines or understands it—is amazing to behold, and our religious rituals afford us opportunities to draw close and be with God again.
But what happens if the closeness to God provided by regular religious practice is not enough? What happens if we want more? A simple answer is that one can become more religious. More worship. More Scripture study. More observance. More participation in religious groups. The idea is that more time and more energy invested in God can bring us even closer to God—can heighten our sense of God’s Presence in our lives.
This is a pattern I see in my own life and in the lives of others. Sometimes we “dose ourselves” with more religion, and sometimes we “dose ourselves” with less. For most people, this is a lifelong process in which we live in the Presence of God and manage our relationship with more or less intensity.
There are those, however, who cannot get enough. Whether Jewish, Christian, Muslim, or Hindu, they find themselves perpetually yearning. For them, regular religious experience is just not enough. They want more of God, and they want it now. I realize that I am speculating, but I sense this kind of perpetual and insatiable yearning for “more God” in many of today’s religious zealots: “Born Again” Christians, Ba’alay Teshuvah (“born again” Jews), Hindu Nationalists, and radical Muslims like the Salafists or Muslim Brotherhood. I wonder if their zeal and off-putting religiosity is a symptom of their perennial dissatisfaction with the closeness to God that religion offers.
In his 1969 book, The Ritual Process, anthropologist Victor Turner identifies two factors in successful religious rituals—rituals from all cultures and religions. The first is a Separation from the Regular. With special clothing, language, locations, or activities, one leaves the regular to enter into holiness. The second is an intense feeling of togetherness he calls Communitas—a joining together with a Presence or a community. I think many of us have felt both, but what happens if the usual separation from the regular loses it specialness—if one becomes so habituated to the holy (being separate) that it no longer feels special or holy? Could this be the reason these various zealots seek more separation or differences than their religions provide? Could this be why they are so extreme in their behaviors? Too often we see that such zealotry—such dramatic separation and more intense immersion in the religious—can actually turn religion on its head. Devotion can overwhelm compassion. Intensity can beat patience. Dedication can defeat grace. The painful irony is that “religion” can rebel against God and God’s wishes.
I wonder if those calf-worshipping Israelites at Mount Sinai are so “hell-bent” on feeling God’s Presence that they forget or ignore the rules God so recently and clearly explains. God wants us to be holy, but God also wants us to live our religion here as humans and here on earth. True piety involves humility, graciousness, and patience. As Rabbi Lawrence Kushner imagines God quipping, “I’m God, and you’re not.”