Parashat 'Vayetze' (5760)
With God's help. On the eve of the holy Sabbath, Parashat 'Vayetze', 5760
'A Righteous Man in the City': The Social Meaning of Spiritual Pursuit
Parashat 'Vayetze' opens with the words, "Jacob left Beersheba,"
and continues, "and went toward Haran" (Genesis 28:10). Rashi,
on that verse, explained that it would have sufficed to write only "and went toward Haran," and why, then, did Scripture mention a fact
which is seemingly self-evident, namely, that Jacob had first also left Beersheba.
Rashi explains that the intention of the verse is to teach us that the departure of a righteous person from a place makes an impression. At a time
when the righteous person is in the city, "he is its glory, he is its radiance, he is its splendor," and when he leaves, "its glory departs, its radiance departs, its splendor departs" (Rashi on Genesis 28:10).
Afterward Jacob's dream is described, and in the dream there appears "a ladder set on the ground, with its top reaching
heaven" (Genesis 28:12). Upon the ladder ascended the angels who accompanied Jacob until his departure from the Land of Israel, and they were replaced
by those who descended, whose task was to accompany him abroad. The portion ends when Jacob returns to the Land
of Israel, when divine angels (the angels of the Land of Israel) meet him again to accompany him, and once more replace
the angels of abroad.
It seems that the entire framework of the portion is meant to teach about the righteous person as one who is constantly accompanied by angels.
The groups of accompanying angels change according to place, but the state in which he is accompanied by angels
exists permanently.
The description of a person accompanied by angels sounds somewhat antiquated and mythological, yet it seems that this description
also has meaning in our eyes, which are not so accustomed to thinking in terms of angels and other
spiritual-mystical beings. We also generally do not really understand what a righteous person is, and not only
who accompanies him. By way of anecdote, the general public in Israel was astonished about three years ago at
the funeral of Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Auerbach of blessed memory in Jerusalem, when some three
hundred thousand people gathered to accompany him. There were those who then asked
(Tom Segev in Haaretz, if I remember correctly) whether the ultra-Orthodox are
the ones detached from reality, or whether perhaps the broader public is detached from it. Not recognizing
a phenomenon on such a scale is genuine detachment from reality. Most of the public in Israel had not even heard
of Rabbi Shlomo Zalman (as he was popularly called) until that moment, and the question is whether
his existence among them nevertheless had some significance for them as well.
Our portion teaches us that there is indeed such significance. The righteous person gives the city its glory, radiance, and splendor.
There are those who do not know how to discern that glory, radiance, and splendor, just as they do not discern the angels who accompany
such people, yet they exist. At that funeral, it seemed that everyone could feel that same
phenomenon of radiance and splendor that the righteous person gives to the city.
There is criticism of the ultra-Orthodox world, which assigns its sons to Torah study all their lives and does not give
them a productive outlet that is useful to society. On the other hand, the ultra-Orthodox public argues
that its goal is to produce 'righteous people.' As the Sages said, a city that does not contain ten 'men of leisure'
is not a city. A public that has no people engaged in the life of the spirit is not an important public. Even
its mundane activities are not meaningful, since they too draw their meaning from those 'men of leisure.'
Many rely on the words of Maimonides, who sharply rejects study as a sole occupation from which the students
also earn their livelihood, while those on the other side respond with the words of the author of the Kesef Mishneh in his commentary on Maimonides there, explaining why Israel nevertheless has the practice of doing so.
In the modern world there is increasing awareness of the social importance of engagement with the life of the spirit. There is
a clear understanding that society must subsidize museums, art, literature, academic research (not
necessarily applied), because an enlightened society must include spiritual components within it. The principal
essence of the human being is that he is a creature who aspires to the transcendent, and does not live only the material life upon
the face of the earth like an animal. A person who all his days is occupied only with matter—working, eating, sleeping, begetting children,
and repeating the cycle—how is he different from an animal?
We can see that in the modern age society as a whole, even those who do not engage in this themselves, understands
that the purpose of the human being is engagement with the life of the spirit, and the attempt to reach heaven. A person must be
in the category of "a ladder set on the ground, with its top reaching heaven" (Genesis 28:12).
In such a reality, when society as a whole recognizes the importance of engagement with the life of the spirit, it is clear
that one cannot argue against Torah study, specifically, that it is unproductive and not beneficial, or claim that
the possibility should be abolished for society to allow people to engage in it fully. Shall a priestess
be no better than an innkeeper? It seems to me that Maimonides too, in such an age, would agree to the permission, and even
to the obligation, for part of society to engage only in the life of the spirit and to detach from 'productive' occupations.
In place of the model that Maimonides sets forth, in which each individual person has one part in matter and one part in spirit, society as a collective being
now receives this structure: part of it in matter and part of it in spirit. Clearly, this does not exempt anyone
from the duty to try to engage in one aspect or another of the life of the spirit, but the principal task is divided among
the different parts of society.
Modern society, in these respects, appears more properly ordered than ancient society, where there was
the hatred of the unlearned person for the Torah scholar, and a failure to understand his role even with respect to those
parts of society that are not such themselves (the unlearned). To complete the task, we must rid ourselves of those elements of the unlearned person's hatred
for the Torah scholar that still remain in our time, and understand that there is a social importance that concerns all of us
in having people who engage in the life of the spirit. Torah scholars should be at the top of the social ladder, no
less than actors, directors, writers, researchers, etc., and not in a state of constant defensiveness
and apology for their lack of productivity.
It is true that one who cannot engage in the life of the spirit, or in a particular aspect of it, must draw the conclusions
and change his field of occupation. Legitimacy must also be given to other occupations, as the
Sages say, that one who does not see blessing in his studies (after five or ten years) should leave them in favor of
occupation in another field. Perhaps more can be said than this: the spiritual world today is more complex than
the world once was; it contains more ramified and detailed fields, and most human beings can
find another occupation, or perhaps another field of study, that is better suited to their talents and their character, even
within the realm of the spirit.
If there is indeed social awareness and legitimacy for the idea that everyone talented to engage in the life of the spirit ought
to do so, and indeed has a duty toward society to do so, while, on the other hand, one who is not talented for this can (with
no less legitimacy) engage in other fields (more spiritual or less), then
we will be able to rid ourselves of that hatred of the unlearned person for the Torah scholar that still remains in our society.
It seems to me that most of the public today is unaware of the spiritual implications of Torah study. A certain
type of exemplary person, 'righteous people' in the full sense of the word (not merely wonder-workers), people
of exalted character traits, who also labor to work on them and improve them, are found primarily in a world
devoted to such work. There is a type of person to whom the broader public has no access, and sometimes
it does not even have the tools to understand the powers that reside in them. The work of such a person is not an occupation
with himself in the narrow sense of the word; his presence in society is an asset to the whole of society. If he does not
exist in society, "its glory departs, its radiance departs, its splendor departs."
In such a situation we can also understand and feel more deeply that radiance, glory, and splendor that the righteous person gives to the city. When
the broader public has access to exemplary people, such as only spiritual labor can bring forth, then
the understanding and awareness of their role, even on entirely earthly planes, will be self-evident.
In one of the previous issues I wrote about the significance of creation in the present as against drawing from
previous generations and transmitting to future generations: the whole axis of time receives meaning only if along it
there are also creations of significance. A society wholly occupied with trying to survive, to earn a living, to
'just live, and that's all,' is a society of which, it seems to me, everyone can agree that it is in the category of "they are likened
to beasts" (Psalms 49). Only if the attempt to survive and earn a living is a means to the spiritual creation within society do
the prosaic-earthly aspects of life as well receive meaning.
In conclusion I would like to ask the reader: how, in fact, can this influence be explained, this understanding
within society (which, as stated, exists today far more than in the past) that one must permit, and even subsidize,
the engagement of individuals in the life of the spirit. There are some of those individuals (in all fields of the spirit) whose work is not
accessible to the overwhelming majority of the public, and says nothing to it at all. An understanding of tribal
customs in Indonesia, which certainly has no practical implications in the narrow sense—what other implications does it have
for the person who has no interest in it at all?
One can feign innocence and say that this is a kind of social covenant that the public accepts upon itself, allowing all
sorts of parts of society to engage in things that will contribute even to a small part of it, and each person will in the end
find what interests him. That is not a sufficient explanation of this phenomenon. Is the person who is not
interested in any of this exempt from contributing his share to subsidizing these pursuits? Is it not more
logical to let market forces determine which of these pursuits 'supports itself,' and which does not deserve
to exist? Why should the state enter into subsidizing fields of the spirit that do not interest
the taxpaying public?
I think that here we can all see, or touch, a spiritual aspect of the reality around us that
cannot be explained in 'earthly' terms. Is it not simpler to say that these are 'angels'
that accompany engagement with the life of the spirit? Does the concept of 'angels' sound less intelligible than the
'mystical' phenomenon we have just described?
"While the righteous person is in the city, he is its glory, he is its radiance, he is its splendor; once he leaves, its glory departs, its radiance
departs, its splendor departs."
Have a peaceful Sabbath.
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