Friday, April 13, 2012

Towards the Redemption of All Humanity

Towards the Redemption of All Humanity
D’var Torah for the Eighth Day of Passover
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman
April 13, 2012


The Exodus was a one-time event. The intervention of God in human history, giving birth to the Jewish People, still reverberates today; but it was physically witnessed by only one generation. It was at Sinai, then, that God’s presence was transformed into something that would last for the rest of our history: Words. Each word, each utterance of sound became a vessel for God’s holiness, embodied in something that could be carried throughout the eons, transferred from one generation to another.

The holiday of Passover thus represents only the beginning of the history of the Jewish People. The rest of the story, one which is still unfolding, is how we have been applying these words to our lives and how we interpret them in such a way that our children—indeed, every new generation—might understand their importance and relevance.

Passover, then, leads in a direct line to Shavuot, seven weeks and one day later, a holiday on which we celebrate receiving the Torah at Mt. Sinai. One miracle leads to yet another, possibly even greater miracle: The parting of the Red Sea, in which the infinite might of God was displayed to one generation, is matched by a minimizing of God’s might in such a way that an infinitesimally small part of God’s eternal holiness can inhabit the space enclosed by a single utterance, a single syllable.

This transformation represents a leap of faith, a moment in our people’s history in which they moved from their need for instant gratification to greater maturity and understanding. God’s message, refined and concentrated into words, must be unraveled in order to be understood. It’s not always easy. Words change meanings; they evolve. And of course, so do we, as does our understanding of the human condition. Sometimes understanding the meaning behind the word takes great effort and even struggle. It is anything but instant.

A similar evolution takes place in the miracles that form the bookends of this holiday sequence, miracles that underpin our understanding both of God’s role in our lives, and also of the role we play in God’s vision of Creation.

The culmination of the wonders and miracles associated with the Exodus from Egypt is, of course, the parting of the Red Sea and the emergence into history of the People of Israel. The second miracle represents the culmination of God’s Redemption of all humanity—in fact, of all Nature and Creation. This vision is described in the haftarah (readings from the Prophets) for this Shabbat, Isaiah 10:32—12:6, the haftarah for the eighth day of Passover. This scripture contains the famous prophecy:

The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb,
and the leopard shall lie down with
the kid; and the calf and the young lion
and the fatling together,
and a little child shall lead them.
And the cow and the bear shall feed,
their young ones shall lie down together;
and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
And the suckling child shall play
on the hole of the cobra,
and the weaned child shall
put his hand on the viper's nest.
They shall not hurt nor destroy
in all my holy mountain; for the earth
shall be filled with the knowledge of God,
as the waters cover the sea” (Isaiah 11:6-9).

Isaiah’s end-day vision is as breathtaking as it is fantastic. It might as well be an illusion, a mirage that only desperate, feverish minds can conceive.

And yet, is it that much greater than the miracle of the parting of the Red Sea?

The cynics among us may scoff at such images; they may look for other interpretations and possibilities. Could the Israelites have taken a route through some swamp—negotiable by foot but not by horses tethered to iron chariots? Could some cataclysmic drought have been responsible for a dry path among the reeds?

But in looking for such “scientific” explanation, we miss the entire lesson of the miracle. It is an allegory, a poetic visualization of Israel’s safe passage through the straits of history. How many times have the eons parted to let us through? How many empires, hard in pursuit of our people, have been swept aside like so much straw and chaff? What greater miracle is there than that of Israel’s survival despite all our oppressors and detractors?

And if it is true for us, why is it so difficult to envision a time in which all humanity will find similar redemption?

In the Exodus story, the key to Israel’s redemption is compassion, whereas Pharaoh’s downfall was a result of the “hardening” of his heart. Pharaoh’s reaction to the demand to free his abused slaves was the opposite of compassion. What would it take for all of us to activate our softness-of-the-heart, our ability to feel someone else’s pain and do something to ease it, an ability that is both divine and human, inherent in all of us?

And what would follow such a conversion in the hardest-of-heart among us? If all hate turned to love, if all fears, grudges and jealousies melted away, would the result not be a major turnabout of all nature—at least as we see it now? Would the fiercest lion among us not turn as gentle as a lamb? Would not the most innocent among us be the first to show us the way to true faith?

Would it be a miracle wrought by God or by humans?

The ancient sages, the Rabbis of the Talmud and Midrash, taught that when the People of Israel faced the depths of the Red Sea, it took more than a divine miracle to part the waters. Yes, God did blow a fierce east wind all night long; and, yes, Moses did lift his miracle-making staff and extend it over the Sea. But what really brought about the miracle, say the Rabbis, was a man who, unafraid, unwilling to wait any longer, plunged into the raging water. Nachshon ben Aminadav was his name, and his reward was that he spearheaded the Israelites’ advances through the Sinai Wilderness, leading them to the Promised Land.

The ultimate miracle, the one described by Isaiah, will require similar forces. It will be not only our faith in God, not only our trust in Moses’s guidance, but also our own actions that will make the vision come real. It is to this magnificent vista that Passover leads us.

May the deeds of our hands, the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable as we go forward towards the Redemption of all nature that Isaiah describes.



© 2012 by Boaz D. Heilman

3 comments:

  1. Rabbi Heilman, Some say the pattern we first see in Exodus: God bringing the Jews out of Egypt, giving them the Ten Commandments, and The Tabernacle translates to first redemption, then righteousness, then worship such that redemption must precede the other two by principle. Without redemption coming first, no amount of good deeds can bring you closer to God. Further, by attempting to work one’s way toward God thru good works before redemption could be interpreted as hubris of someone reasoning that they themselves are their own redeemer. Thoughts?

    ReplyDelete
  2. We can certainly be our own redeemers. Judaism believes that the relationship between God and human beings does not need an intermediary. There are guidelines and we try to live our lives by those.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Of course each of us can stray off the path, fall and fail multiple times. But we CAN rise again. Often, as with physical and emotional health and stability, we need the guidance and help of healers--teachers and rabbis who can guide us back onto the right path, who can teach us the rules and laws and help us interpret and adapt them to our life and day. And of course--besides the strength we can get from God and our faith, we need the support of our community, and we need to be there for them in return.

    ReplyDelete