Parashat Vayechi (5761)

With God's help, eve of the holy Sabbath, Parashat Vayechi, 5761

Metaphysics and This World

At the end of the book of Genesis, Jacob gathers his sons and tells them what will happen to them at the end of days,

apparently in order to guide them on their path after his death. It is worth noting that although in the other books of the Hebrew Bible

prophecies appear many times, in the Five Books of the Torah this is one of the few places in which

a direct prophecy about the future appears. Even in the blessings and curses there are those who find references

to future events, but such references are identified only after the fact. In our portion Jacob

himself simply foresees the future.

The way of the Jewish people, even in the age of the prophets, is to live in the present. It is not driven, or

guided, by any future-oriented or eschatological (that is, redemptive-messianic) motivations.

Such ideas are certainly present in the background, but generally they do not take an active part in present considerations.

The foresight of the sages of Israel is generally based on wisdom and not on prophecy, that is, on

worldly considerations, and our tradition teaches that “a sage is preferable to a prophet” (Bava Batra 12a). Actual conduct is derived

from considerations of the here and now, and not from any metaphysical considerations.

A sharp, though highly controversial, expression of this Jewish position was given by Yeshayahu Leibowitz when he stated

his famous dictum: “A Messiah who has arrived is not the Messiah.” That is to say: the Messiah is always meant

to arrive in the future, and not to be part of present reality. A Messiah who is among us in the present expresses a view

that the world has reached its perfected state and that we no longer have any role in it—a Christian view (for them the Messiah has already

arrived). The anger directed at Leibowitz stems from the fact that he severs belief in the coming of the Messiah, which is a cornerstone

of Jewish thought, from its basis in reality. One cannot—and it is not even reasonable to—believe

in a Messiah who is not supposed to come. What can be learned from this statement, however, is a deeply wary Jewish attitude

toward non-worldly considerations within processes carried out on earth.

Within Jewish law too there is the same deep wariness toward any changes whatsoever, and it is certainly a

highly rational (worldly) system. An interpretation of history never takes part in

determinations of Jewish law. In traditional Judaism, Jewish law is the primary and constant basis for considerations of conduct in

this world.

Over the past hundred years, a new and different Jewish position has developed in certain circles with respect

to these issues. A striking expression of such a new position is found in Chabad Hasidism, parts of which believed

that the Messiah is already here. Seemingly, this is the highest expression of a tangible belief in the Messiah's reality, and of an unwillingness

to be satisfied with evasive approaches that treat him as something that will always arrive in the future (and perhaps

mask a merely theoretical, rather than genuine, belief in redemption). On the other hand, the polemic aroused by this position

stems from the fact that there is indeed a basic Jewish position that makes it very hard to believe that the Messiah

has indeed arrived. A Jew sees himself as one charged with repairing the world, and therefore a conception of a Messiah who has arrived, which as stated is

by its nature a Christian state of affairs, finds it difficult to take root.

Religious Zionism too brought about a similar revolution in the classical religious conception. One of the

most prominent characteristics of the Religious-Zionist approach is that this movement, in its various forms, decided to take

the initiative and “bring the Messiah,” or at least actively help him arrive. Taking action

on the basis of considerations of bringing the Messiah is an extraordinary innovation within Judaism (one that, like Religious

Zionism in general, has a strong basis in Hasidism, and perhaps in Jewish mysticism more broadly). Making decisions while relying on

“mystical” considerations, such as assessing what stage of the redemption we are in, is something entirely

foreign to Jewish tradition.

It should be noted that generally the difference between Religious Zionism and the Haredi outlook is perceived as a difference

in content: ostensibly, the question is how to relate to the different stages on the way to redemption (a positive or

negative attitude), and also how to evaluate them (what stage we are in: the beginning of redemption, the footsteps of the Messiah,

and so on). My claim here is that the more central difference lies in the very approach toward history,

and especially toward its metaphysical layer. Some parts of the Haredi world can agree with the assessment that we

are at the stage of the beginning of redemption, but the essence of the Haredi outlook is that we do nothing

differently as a result. The future is a cherished hope, not a basis for practical decisions in the actual world.

In the Haredi approach, the attitude toward the new secular Jew is not influenced by the fact that he is an important aid in bringing

redemption. He is disqualified as one who denies the Torah and Jewish law, despite the deep forces that may perhaps propel

his actions (as Rabbi Kook understood this). This is a mystical layer that does not take part in

determinations of Jewish law.

The yearning for the rebuilding of the Temple, and for the Temple Mount, expresses this division in the deepest way.

In activist sectors of Religious Zionism (which in its very essence is wholly religious activism) there is a

tendency to bring about the rebuilding of the Temple by our own hands, relying on approaches according to which the Temple indeed ought

to be rebuilt by human beings. By contrast, there are Haredim who cite approaches according to which it is supposed to descend from heaven.

It seems to me that genuine Haredi thought maintains that regardless of the question of how it will ultimately be built, or

of how one interprets the sources, we are not supposed to take practical steps toward this. The Messiah will come,

and that will be his task, and until then we continue as usual.

There is no doubt that the Haredi outlook is the traditional Jewish path. It is true, however, that when we arrive

at the end of days, the situation changes. Jacob says: “Gather yourselves together, and I will tell you what shall happen to you

in the end of days” (Genesis 49:1). Perhaps he is hinting to us that the end of days is a period in which considerations

“mystical,” concerning “what will happen to us,” actively guide practical decisions.

As for me, humble as I am, this issue still requires much further reflection…

Have a peaceful Sabbath

This may be left for respectful disposal at any synagogue or house of study. Comments and responses will be welcomed.

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