|
|
March 8, 2002/Adar 24, 5762, Vol. 54, No. 25
Paradox of Judaism in fire and water
Torah Study
RABBI SHLOMO RISKIN
Vayakhel-Pekudei/Exodus 35:1-40:38
The cloud covered the Tent of Meeting, and the Presence of the Lord filled the Tabernacle. Moses could not enter the Tent of Meeting, because ... the Presence of the Lord filled the Tabernacle." (Exodus 40: 34, 35)
What is the significance of the symbol of the cloud, and its twin symbol, fire?
These are the two symbols of the divine presence expressed by the Torah: a cloud, directing the Israelites in the desert by day, and fire, directing the Israelites in the desert by night.
Both of these symbols together comprise the heavens, shamayim; the very Hebrew word shamayim is comprised of two words, aish (fire) and mayim (water), water being the stuff that clouds are made of and turn into. Fire and water are also the eternal opposites. The heavens express the consummate paradox that miraculously brings together in peace those elements that seem to be constantly at war with each other, fire and water.
There is another message that the Torah conveys by using these two powerful symbols of the divine presence. The Torah insists that as long as the cloud rested on the tent of meeting, Moses was forbidden from entering it unless he were to be expressly summoned by God. Hence Exodus concludes with Moses' inability to enter the sanctuary, and Leviticus opens, "The Lord called to Moses and spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting." (Leviticus 1:1).
Additionally, while it is true that fire has the ability to bring warmth, it can also devour and destroy. One benefits greatly when coming in close proximity to fire - but one can get burnt by getting too close for comfort. Rabbi Eliezer declared, "Warm yourselves by fire of the Sages, but be careful of the coals lest you be burnt." (Mishnah Pirkei Avot 2, 15)
From this perspective, the symbols of cloud and fire are warning us to temper our love and desire for closeness to the divine with reverence and awe which engenders distance. Passion is a critical component of religious piety, but it must be moderated by divine law or it can run wildly into the fanaticism of Jihad and suicide killings.
Moreover, cloud and fire - the lack of clarity expressed by a cloud and the inability to gaze directly into a flame - likewise express one of the deepest truths of the Jewish message: religion is not so much paradise as it is paradox, God demands fealty even in the face of agonizing questions and disturbing uncertainty. Egypt, with its omnipresent waters of the Nile and its unchanging social order of masters and slaves, represent certainty; the desert, on the other hand, and especially the rain-expectant manna-less and leader-starved land of Israel represent the unknown.
God expects us to have the courage to take the risks of uncertainty as to the immediate outcome in order to act as partners of the divine. We must attempt to make light from darkness, order from chaos, justice from inequity.
Perhaps only a people who believe in a God who cannot be limited by form or defined by sculpture can have the courage to attempt an adventure whose every step has not been charted in advance. But even if the precise details of the challenge are not prescribed or described, we do have a Torah that does specify right and wrong ways to pursue our goal. And, at the very least, the goal is certainly guaranteed, when "nation will not lift up sword against nation, and humanity will not learn war anymore."
Rabbi Shlomo Riskin is spiritual leader of Efrat, Israel.
|
