Boldness and hebrew anti-formalism
“For what great nation is there that has a god so near to it as the LORD our God is to us, whenever we call upon him?” (Dt 4, 7)
If there's one thing that distinguishes the people of Israel from all other peoples is just the kind of relationship it has established with Its G-D: in the modern state of Israel, the Torah is directly or indirectly part of citizens 'daily life. In Israel G-D is for everyone, believers or non-believers, the Landlord to whom we turn with a confidence that non-Jews sometimes arouses astonishment, if not scandal. One of the accusations that are made is that "the Jews put G-D everywhere!" This familiar way of addressing to G-D denotes the type of relationship that the jew has towards the absolute. The jew maintains a distant relationship with the divinity, because of his election and his past history, but an intimate relationship, face to face, like father-son, husband-wife ...
This intimacy often touches high levels of boldness and freedom that it seemed even blasphemous. The jew refuses an attitude of passive submission to the "fate", he knows how to ask questions to G-D and he knows to go right to their extreme consequences. He knows humbly submit to the will of G-D, even when it is too demanding, yet he also knows openly how to show his disapproval, submit to G-D his protests and even afford to quarrel with Him without fear of offending Him, and without the fear to make collapse the well-established theological scaffolding which can only increase the distance of the man from the source of all good.
The Jewish prayer is alien to the etiquette and assumes no formal code of conduct aimed to disguise the miserable human reality: the synagogue is not only a sacred place where we pray, we study Torah in the synagogue, we dance, we talk, we eat, we scream to G-D our joy or our pain, we discuss with the brothers and even sometimes we fight! The jew is allowed to this freedom because he knows to be eternally loved by His Creator as it is with its own strengths and weaknesses, does not need to play a role, he can afford to be authentically himself in the synagogue as it is in everyday life.
We publish a Hasidic short story that illustrates very well this kind of a typically Jewish confidential relationship.
It is said that during the terrible month of Av, the Great Maggid Rabbi Dov Baer of Mezrich turned to his young disciple Reb Elimelekh of Lizensk and asked him if he knew the deep meaning of Rosh Hashana (Jewish New Year’s Day =).
- No, replied the disciple. I do not know. I do not really know the deep meaning of nothing.
- Would you like to learn?
- Were true, Rabbi. Teach me. Precisely for this I came to Mezritch. To understand what I do, who I am.
- Well, said the Great Maggid. 'Go to Zhitomir. Stop in the village near the forest. You will find the inn easily, there's only one. The host will reveal the deeper meaning of Rosh Hashana.
Without wasting a minute, reb Elimelekh left Mezritch, took the road to Zhitomir and stopped at the village near the forest. He found the inn, he met the landlord and immediately thought that the Maggid sent him by a righteous really hidden. In fact he had not at all the air of one who could teach even the most basic prayer of every day. He was a grown man, he acted and spoked as host, as he was busy serving all the customers to drink with them and laugh with drunks. "He can wonderfully disguise himself," thought Elimelekh. The young man stopped one night, stopped three nights.
He spied upon the landlord. He hoped to surprise him at midnight, when all the mystics mourn the destruction of the Temple. It was a wasted effort: that good man was sleeping peacefully.
In the morning the landlord got up, he hurriedly mumbled prayers, he swallowed the breakfast as he had done the day before and, certainly, the week before. Then he set to work. He sweeped the tavern, ordered the chairs, washed glasses, and waited for the first driver to drink with him. But reb Elimelekh not lose heart. "The Maggid sent me here, and I have to come here," he thought. "The Maggid knows what he does. Maybe I should stop for the Shabbat (= Saturday). In the light and purity of the Shabbat the landlord can no longer hide and will be forced to keep the promise of the Maggid. "
The Shabbat passed and ended at the tavern but nothing happened, except that, in honor of Shabbat, the landlord leisurely ate and slept long. Elimelekh then began be upset. "Why did I come here?" He wondered. "Why haven’t I heard the words that I had intended? Maybe because I'm not worthy? It's my fault if the landlord remained a landlord? ".
Reb Elimelekh decided with sadness in his heart to return to Meztritch for Rosh Hashana so he hastened to warn the landlord. He looked up and down the house but did not find him. Finally he found him in a corner of the kitchen, he fumbled in front of two notebooks and murmured:
- Soon it will be Rosh Hashanah. It is time, Lord of the universe, that we draw conclusions, don’t you think? We open the first notebook, I have noticed all that I owe you. So, let's see. I let go of Simhat Torah celebrations without a 'alyah (= slope of the Torah reading). I was wrong, on a day like today the place of a Jew is among Jews. I owe you a 'alyah. Let’s continue. The following month, I forgot to recite the prayer of minhah. Well, I owe you a prayer. And? Then I did not want to feed a beggar. What do you want, I was too busy. I also owe you a meal. We turn the page. On the day of Tisha beav I broke the fast, I drank a glass, but I couldn’t do without. You know well the lord of the village, when he gets angry he kills, and he was just angry because I refused to drink with him. So I owe you a drink. Then you owe a charity and a gift for Shimon, the orphan, and Rahel who is about to get married ... But now we open the second notebook, can I? I scored all I need. Here it is: my cousin, innocent, imprisoned, and you let him. Why did not you oppose? You owe me thirty-two days in jail ... Five weeks later, his wife was sick. Why did you let her become ill, Lord of the universe? You owe me her illness ... The same month, the son of Jankel was beaten by the lord of the village, why did not you protect him? You owe me three broken ribs ... I turn the page and read that some unfortunate thugs set fire to the synagogue of Pesinka, after having torn the sacred scrolls and murdered the poor reb Iddel, the beadle: you owe me the honor of the Torah, the beauty of Torah and even more, Lord of the universe, You owe me rab Iddel... There's no denying, you owe me a lot. We come to the point. How about we give and take?
The landlord took his head in his hands to think better. Then he had an idea:
- Well, I want to make a suggestion: you do not owe me anything and I do not owe you anything, a draw we can say. Okay?
Reb Eliemelekh returned to Mezritch and went to the Maggid whose face lit up in a mysterious smile.
- How was it? Now you know?
- Yes, said the disciple, now I know.
- And do you agree?
- Yes, said reb Elimelekh. I agree.
- So also the Creator is in agreement.
Not me, says the narrator of the story. Not me.
The sense of this story is not to invite to neglect the observance of the commandments, but rather suggests the attitude to be adopted in their practice: the commandments, the mitzvot should not be seen for the fear of punishment nor desire of reward, but simply for love. And in true love your are not afraid to show yourself to the beloved for what you are, in all true yourself.
kabballart@gmail.com
Torah - arte e Kabbalah - Scienza e Kabbalah - Israele - judaica - musica - fotografia - cinema ebraico - contatti - attività
shazarahel - Arte e Kabbalah - Sapienza della Verità - Tobia Ravà - David Friedman - Esrher Ghenassia - Berger - kabbal-art
