"The answer that was revealed to us at Mount Sinai"

The current issue of New York's Jewish Week is running a new essay by Rabbi Steinsaltz in preparation for Shavuot. To read it, you can go to their website:

http://www.thejewishweek.com/viewArticle/c55_a12077/Editorial__Opinion/Opinion.html

or read the essay here:

Shavuot: Understanding The Purpose of Our Freedom

Since the second night of Passover, we have been counting the days of the Omer, which will culminate in the upcoming festival of Shavuot.

In a certain way, we cannot help but feel that Shavuot is the completion of the festival of Passover.

The Talmudic name for Shavuot — Atzeret — is the name given to the eighth day of Sukkot and alludes to the fact that Shavuot can be defined as the eighth day of Passover (which is, biblically, a seven-day festival).And while the second and eighth days of Sukkot are seven days apart, the amount of time between Passover and Shavuot is seven times that amount, or the 49 days of the Omer.

The festivals of Passover and Shavuot are inextricably linked, as the Torah lists no specific date on which Shavuot is to be observed; we are simply told to count 49 days from Passover.But the connection between these two holidays goes far beyond mathematics.

Consider the significance of Passover — the commemoration of the Exodus from Egypt. As generations did before us, we observe the essence of Passover when we personally experience the exodus, when we break loose from the yoke of slavery and flee from danger.

Sometimes, it is impossible for one to stay where he is — it is urgent that he extricate himself from peril. But even in the intense element of deliverance, his escape — like any other — gives rise to a fundamental question: where does one go from here?

The Passover exodus contains a negation of the past and the desire to move away from it, but it does not answer the question of purpose.

Deliverance, per se, is no more than casting off one’s shackles. It leads, therefore, to quandaries, questions and confusion.

Freedom as a positive concept calls for a personality with a will of its own. A person who escapes from captivity and returns home is indeed free, but a person who flees without knowing where to and without any specific goal in mind has not attained freedom — only the denial of his slavery.

Shavuot, which is referred to as “the time of giving of our Torah,” provides the answer to the question raised by the festival of Passover — the ultimate purpose of the Exodus.

Passover represents exodus, an escape from; Shavuot is the movement towards, a route leading to a goal.

The giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai is the conclusion of deliverance, that which gives it its fullest meaning.

The Torah, when describing the Tablets of the Law, says that the writing was harut al ha-luhot, “graven upon the tablets” (Exodus 32:16). On this verse our Sages comment: “Do not say ‘harut [graven] al ha-luhot’ but rather ‘herut [freedom] al ha-luhot.’ ”

The Tablets of the Law are the very source of the freedom that can only be attained after being redeemed from slavery. This explanation is not a metaphysical rendering of the events; it is explicitly stated in the Torah, in the words of the Almighty to Moses after the revelation in the burning bush.

When Moses argues with God about his mission, God replies (Exodus 3:12): “And this shall be the sign for you that I have sent you: when you will have brought forth the people out of Egypt, you shall serve God upon this mountain.”

In other words, God’s revelation to the Jewish people at Mount Sinai and their subsequent worship of Him are what infuse meaning into the miracles performed in Egypt.

Those miracles, and even the Exodus itself, are an incomplete message. When God tells Moses that He wants to deliver the Jewish people so that they can worship Him in the desert, it is not a pretext for the Exodus. It is the most real answer, the entire essence of the Exodus itself.

Passover, then, is a festival without a clear ending. It receives its spiritual significance from the Torah given seven weeks later, on Shavuot.

The gap of time between these two festivals symbolizes the wandering and the search, the transition from a negative reality of physical labor — and nowadays, of spiritual enslavement — to an essential quest for the meaning of that freedom.

On Shavuot we receive the answer and come to understand the reason for the Exodus.

Only then do these two festivals become one unit at whose core is the Jew searching for his raison d’être. Such a person cannot be content with the mere negation of his existing reality.

He must strive to learn his true purpose through the answer that was revealed to us at Mount Sinai.

--Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

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"Atheists belong to an unorganized but very defined Church of the Atheists"

Rabbi Steinsaltz was asked: Atheism is enjoying a certain vogue right now. Why do you think that is? Can there be a productive conversation between believers and atheists, and if so over what kinds of issues?

He replied:

While atheism is now enjoying a certain vogue in the U.S., it is not a new phenomenon.

In Europe it has been popular for over 100 years, perhaps as early as the French Revolution.

Until recently, it was not very common in the U.S. because the United States was, and is, an extremely religious country – different, in that sense, from almost all of Europe.

What happened in more recent years is that the growth of religious fundamentalism created a counter-reaction in the U.S., a strengthening of trends and ideas – many of them quite old ideas – that have become, in certain groups, a la mode.

In essence, nothing has changed, neither the problem nor the arguments; rather, the difference lies in the publicity.

Can there be a productive conversation between believers and atheists?

It depends on what level.

Any deep conversation is not very helpful because there is, in a certain way, a clash between two faiths, two forms of belief.

The atheists belong to an unorganized but very defined Church of the Atheists, while the believers belong not to the same church, but to a different one.

Whether one is an atheist or a believer, one’s underlying emotional stance is something that cannot really be changed, and therefore there cannot be a really productive, fruitful dialogue.

However, what sometimes happens is that people of different belief systems meet each other and somehow come to appreciate that the other is also a person.

And that is a great achievement.

--Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

From “On Faith: A Conversation about Religion with Jon Meacham and Sally Quinn” http://newsweek.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/

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"The commandments are finite tools for reaching infinity"

The Significance of the Giving of the Torah--A Message for Shavuot

by Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

After the great miracles of the Exodus, the splitting of the Red Sea and all of the major events that the Jewish people experienced before arriving at Mount Sinai came the Giving of the Torah.

What was the purpose of the sublime revelation itself?

The actual contents of the Ten Commandments – for instance, belief in God, honoring one's parents, and the prohibition against murder – are the cornerstones of human morality and can be reached through logic.

Moreover, our forefather Abraham is said to have fulfilled all the commandments long before the revelation at Mount Sinai.

What, then, did the Giving of the Torah actually add to the world?

Every Jew has a "Godly spark," which is the innermost core of his spiritual life. This spark is always there, even when we cannot see beyond the screens that hide it.

And since this spark is the "holy of holies" of the soul, we always aspire to God, whether consciously or unknowingly.

Some people seek a philosophical closeness with God; others are led to it by the events of their lives, by delving into the mysteries of nature, or by examining Jewish history.

Another way of nurturing the desire for closeness with God is by looking into oneself: "From my flesh shall I see God" (Job 19:26); it is the understanding that God is the source and essence of not only the entire universe, but also of my own private soul.

However, even when the desire for closeness with God turns into a conscious, clear drive – even when it pushes us to search for God – we are in the dark: As we read in Kedushah, "Where is the place of His glory?"

In the pre-Revelation world, man strove to reach God but remained distant, despite all his efforts.

Generally, the first thing that the God-seeker wants to do is to transcend the limitations of matter and soar to the abstract and the spiritual.

Our material body and the physical world seem to be the greatest obstacles on our path.

Sometimes, one can reach peaks of love for the Divine and totally abandon the world.

But is this really the proper approach?

Furthermore, deeper thinking will reveal that whatever we do, we will never be able to comprehend God.

Whatever we may feel of God's life-giving light is but a tiny, dim spark; in truth, the Almighty Himself is far beyond anything that even the most sublime human mind can comprehend.

To Him, not only physical matter, but even the highest degree of spirituality, is nothing.

It follows, then, that all human efforts to get closer to God are bound to fail. However high one may ascend, there will always remain an infinite, unbridgeable gap between man and God.

We feel the desire to come closer to God, yet we have no means for fulfilling it.

This is the point of the Giving of the Torah.

We, as humans, are incapable of reaching God; but God – with His infinite loving kindness and goodness – lowers Himself toward us, so to speak, in order to fulfill the purpose of Creation.

The Revelation on Mount Sinai is much more than a set of directives, instructing us what to do and how to behave; it is God's will, as it is expressed through the Torah and its commandments.

It reveals to us the way to actually unite with God – namely, by fulfilling His commandments.

Indeed, the Hebrew word for "commandments" – mitzvot – comes from the word tzavta, togetherness – being united with God.

By "descending," so to speak, on Mount Sinai, God "brought down" His unlimited, indefinable essence into the definitions and limitations, fences and constraints of the Torah and the Commandments that He has given to us.

The Torah is the expression of the Divine. It is God's wisdom and will and is therefore much more than "a Torah from Heaven": it is Heaven itself.

There is, therefore, a fundamental difference between the outward manifestation of the commandment, as we understand it, and its innermost essence as a way of connecting with God.

"Thou shalt not kill" as a human law, deduced through human reason – while a great achievement of human ethics and morality – does not go beyond the human realm.

On the other hand, "Thou shalt not kill" as revealed on Mount Sinai is a Divine commandment, part of the bond that the transcendent God forms with us.

The commandments, then, are finite tools for reaching infinity.

The Giving of the Torah opened for us the path – the Torah path – to reach God.

The Almighty Himself descended and revealed Himself through the Torah, thus giving us the way, and the possibility, to overcome the obstacles of our human nature in order to come close, and adhere, to God.

"The Significance of the Giving of the Torah - A Message for Shavuot" Syndicated column May 10, 2007

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"Almost everything fascinates me"

During the years that I have read the writings of Rabbi Steinsaltz or have attended hundreds of his lectures I have learned that he rarely speaks about himself personally.

But several years ago, Rabbi William Berkowitz said to Rabbi Steinsaltz:

"I think everyone has an image of a Talmudic scholar as one who sits all day before the Gemora and studies. I know that your day is preferably an 18–if not a 20–our day. And yet, reading some of your biographical material, I see a man, one of the greatest Talmudic minds of our twentieth century, who finds time to have hobbies. I’m curious; what are your hobbies? And do they in any way relate to your Talmudic study?"

Rabbi Steinsaltz replied:

My first hobby is the Talmud because by profession I am, or I have to describe myself as, a defrocked mathematician. I began as a teacher of mathematics and physics.

I was caught by the Talmud and I really did not want to be a Talmudist.

I wanted to deal with it as a hobby, but the hobby grew.

I’m still in love with that hobby of mine.

At the same time, I’m interested in almost everything – from detective stories to science fiction to mathematics to animals.

I am also interested in people – sometimes I even like them.

I am interested in good literature, even though I do not read enough of it.

I prefer children’s stories to most earnest literature.

I am interested in science for many reasons, and sometimes in politics.

Sometimes I’m also interested in football, if I have time to watch it; if not, I at least read about it in the newspapers.

So I’m interested in what people are interested in, and not because I have some reason, but because I am curious.

I am still trying to learn, and almost everything fascinates me.

So as long as there is something to learn, I like to learn more and to know more about everything.

--Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

From "How Can We Make Judaism Less Boring?" Algemeiner.com October 19, 2006

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"In Judaism, good deeds are intrinsically connected with holiness and the Divine"

Rabbi Steinsaltz was asked, "What's more important from a faith perspective, being saved or doing good works?"

He replied:

The question of whether being saved or doing good works is more important is a basic theological problem.

In fact, different religions - even factions within religions - have different, sometimes opposing answers.

So I can answer it only from the perspective of my own faith.

In Judaism, good deeds - whether they are directly in the line of worship or inter-personal good deeds - are intrinsically connected with holiness and the Divine.

On the other hand, being saved, as important and exalted as it may be, is still, in some way, an egoistic desire.

There are some differences between the desire to have great worth and the desire to live everlastingly in Paradise; still, in both cases, one is acting with his own well-being in mind, whether it be material or spiritual.

Even when there is promise for the saving of the soul by performing (or avoiding) certain deeds, or a generalized life of holiness, it is still a human desire.

To quote the prayer of one of our saints, he says to God: “I don’t want Your Paradise; I don’t want Your world-to-come. I want only You Yourself.”

And in life, doing it or reaching it is by doing the will of God--and allowing Him to deal with the far less important question – whether I myself am saved or not.

--Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

From “On Faith: A Conversation about Religion with Jon Meacham and Sally Quinn” http://newsweek.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/

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"Each of us has the ability to 'channel' God"

In preparation for the Holy Day of Shavuot (this coming Sunday evening), I just re-read an essay written by Rabbi Steinsaltz. It became a syndicated column appearing in many newspapers.

Here is the entire essay by Rabbi Steinsaltz:

Shavuot is designated as zman matan Torateinu, the time of the giving of the Torah: one Torah, given at one time. This is God’s part of the event.

But what about ours? What happens on the receiving end?

Receiving is precisely the opposite: We do not receive the Torah once; we receive it every day.

And we do not all receive the same Torah; each of us receives the Torah meant just for us, because each of us is different.

The Torah is not a textbook.

If a textbook is objectively good, I may study from it, but how I relate to it is irrelevant.

I cannot argue with the mathematics it presents.

I cannot argue with the rules of grammar it lays out.

Certainly, I can learn from it, but it is not important to me, because it is utterly independent of me. It says what it says.

With the Torah, on the other hand, I have to find my message.

I have to figure out our relationship.

Therefore, I have to care. I cannot glide over the text; I have to engage it.

But how do I prepare myself to receive the unique message God’s Torah has for me?

How do I get ready to convene with God?

According to Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi — the 18th century mystic and Talmudist — the pre-condition for this meeting is what he calls “self-nullification.” As developed in the Tanya, his quietly revolutionary work, self-nullification requires one to separate from his ego, his smugness, and his importance.

This is not to denigrate the ego.

We need our egos in order to grow, in order to fulfill the Biblical charge to master the world, in order to effect tikkun olam.

But, just as we suspend our physical creativity (i.e., the tangible expression of our ego) on Shabbat and Yom Tov, we must also subordinate our egos (on the deepest level) during those activities in which we seek to join our will to God’s.

A judge, for example, acting as an emissary of God in the search for truth and justice, must put aside his personal feelings — personal and philosophical — in order to adjudicate fairly.

He cannot disregard the facts and side with a poor petitioner over a wealthy one because he feels the wealthy one can better “afford” to lose; he must decide according to the law.

Similarly, a prophet can only prophesy when he transcends himself and becomes a conduit for God’s words. As we read in Kings II (3:11-15), when Elisha becomes angry — that is, when his ego is engaged — he cannot prophesy.

One need not be in a position as exalted as judge or prophet, however, in order to become a vessel through which God enters the world. Samuel II (6:14) relates how King David dances with utter abandon as he welcomes the Holy Ark back to Jerusalem.

Temporarily casting off his ego identities — of king, conqueror and poet — and, perhaps, even his modesty, he is open to God, and God’s approval is clear: David’s wife, who reprimands him for his lack of “dignity,” is severely punished.

Each of us also has the ability to “channel” God.

When we forget ourselves in prayer, we let God enter.

When we give tzedaka — not as an expression of our power, but as an agent of God in the distribution of His bounty — we are God’s conduit into the world.

And when we learn Torah as a way of unifying our minds with His, we are increasing God’s presence on earth.

This Shavuot, and every day, each of us has the ability to receive the Torah — our Torah — and become a vehicle for holiness.

--Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

from a syndicated column by Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz, May 20, 2004

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"If a person wants to secure himself a seat in heaven"

The current and therefore the most recent question posed on the website called “On Faith: A Conversation about Religion with Jon Meacham and Sally Quinn” is this:

Greed, one of the seven deadly sins, is seen as a major factor in the housing market crash and the oil price spike. Can greed ever be justified morally or religiously?

Rabbi Steinsaltz responded:

If greed is indeed a deadly sin, it would explain why it is that people die.

Greed seems to be everywhere we turn in the world today; one does not have to look to oil tycoons and big banks to find people who are driven by this vice.

It spans all generations, from babies who seek more toys and more cookies, to senior citizens who try to accrue wealth far beyond that which they will need in this lifetime.

Although we are very quick to recognize greed in others, it is important that we define exactly what it is.

In my view, greed means wishing or grasping for things that are beyond one’s needs.

Thus it seems that greed is a universal desire that is very deeply embedded in the human spirit.

By this definition, greed also means that the desire cannot be justified.

It is not the size of the desire that categorizes it as a greedy one; it is the fact that it is beyond the measures of the person who desires it.

So although greed is universal, it is defined differently for each human being.

And to some extent, greed implies a need to take things from others, though that is not to say that Robinson Crusoe did not experience feelings of greed on his desert island.

Is greed ever justifiable?

Perhaps in the case of one who is greedy to do more good deeds or attain higher intellectual goals, but even then, there is something unpleasant about stealing opportunities for kind deeds or attaining knowledge for the sake of being smarter than someone else.

If a person wants to secure himself a seat in Heaven, he must realize that it need not be a throne too large for his own size.

--Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz

From “On Faith: A Conversation about Religion with Jon Meacham and Sally Quinn”
http://newsweek.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/

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