With God’s help

MiMidbar Matanah – 2003

‘For a commandment is a lamp, and Torah is light’ (‘For a commandment is a lamp and Torah is light’)

Among the curses that appear in the portion, the Torah writes (28:29):

And you shall grope at noon as the blind grope in darkness, and you shall not prosper in your ways. And you shall be only oppressed and robbed all your days, with none to save you. (You shall grope at noon as the blind grope in darkness, and you shall not prosper in your ways; you shall be only oppressed and robbed all your days, with none to save.)

The plain meaning of the verse is that there is a single curse here: that we will be like the blind. Consequently we will also be in darkness, since a blind person is always in darkness. However, the Sages already ask (Megillah 24b):

It was taught: Rabbi Yose said, All my days I was troubled by this verse: ‘And you shall grope at noon as the blind grope in darkness.’ Now what difference does darkness or light make to a blind person? Until once I was walking in the blackness of night and saw a blind man walking with a torch in his hand. I said to him: My son, why do you need this torch? He said to me: As long as I have a torch in my hand, people can see me and save me from the pits, the thorns, and the brambles. (It was taught: Rabbi Yose said, ‘All my days I was troubled by this verse: “You shall grope at noon as the blind gropes in darkness.” What difference does darkness or light make to a blind person? Until once I was walking in the blackness of night and saw a blind man walking with a torch in his hand. I said to him: My son, what use is this torch to you? He said to me: So long as I have a torch in my hand, people see me and rescue me from pits, thorns, and brambles.’)[1]

Thus, the Sages understand that there are two curses in the verse: that we will be like the blind, and in addition that there will be no lamp in our hands, in which case no one will be able to save us.

Such a situation calls for explanation. Why do the passersby themselves not hold lamps, by whose light they could save the blind person? Why must he be saved specifically by his own lamp, which he holds in his hand?

The Torah apparently means to say that it is impossible to save a person with someone else’s lamp. There may indeed be lamps in the hands of other passersby, yet to save the blind person one can use only his own lamp. True, he himself may not see the light of his own lamp, but even his rescue by others requires specifically the use of his own lamp.

If so, there are two curses in this verse, not just one: that we will be like the blind, so that even if we had a lamp in our hands we could not see it. In addition, there is another curse: that we will have no lamp of our own in our hands.

Above we saw that the Sages wonder about the meaning of the curse that we will have no lamp in our hands, if we ourselves do not see. To this they answer (according to our interpretation) that one can save a person only with his own lamp, and not with other lamps. On the other hand, one may ask the reverse: what is the meaning of the curse that we will be blind, if we have no lamp in our hands? In such a situation, just as the passersby do not see (at least not our light), and therefore cannot save us, we ourselves would not be able to see either. If so, what is the point of striking us with blindness as well?

The Sages’ exposition teaches us that there are two aspects required in order to see what is happening around us: 1. the capacity for sight. 2. the existence of light (and, as we saw, it must specifically be our own light). Admittedly, from the positive side both requirements seem self-evident (apart from the fact that the light must be mine, which does require explanation). But this exposition also yields a less obvious conclusion: each of these two aspects is independently necessary, and the absence of each has its own significance. The capacity for sight has positive significance even in complete darkness, and complete darkness (of my own light) has negative significance even where there is no capacity for sight.

The fact that it must specifically be my own light is what hints to us at the direction of the solution. Physical light is objective. Either there is light or there is not. Therefore it seems that the verse is speaking of spiritual light, not physical light. Spiritual light differs from one person to another, in the sense of and on His Torah he meditates day and night (“and in his Torah he meditates day and night”)—each person in his own Torah. The light with which the verse is concerned is For a commandment is a lamp, and Torah is light, that is, Torah. The absence of the light described here is the absence of each person’s personal light in Torah. Consequently, we must interpret in this direction the darkness with which the verse is concerned as well. The darkness is the absence of personal Torah. Torah may well exist in the world, and others may study properly, but they cannot save me. They cannot repair what is incumbent upon me. That is why the passersby need precisely the blind person’s own light in order to save him.

Perhaps this also explains why each of the curses has significance in its own right. The capacity to see is significant even when there is darkness, for I have the ability to create my own light and to repair what is incumbent upon me. On the other hand, the fact that there is darkness is significant even when someone is blind, for the light he is supposed to create has significance for others as well. The absence of his light does not merely prevent him himself from seeing; something is lacking in the world itself.

On the one hand, each person’s personal Torah illuminates the person himself, and no one else can do this in his place. On the other hand, the role and significance of that light are not only for the individual himself. The purpose of the light is to repair the world for everyone. My light will not do someone else’s work in his place, but together with everyone else the whole work of repair will be accomplished.

These two perspectives also arise in the Sages’ expositions elsewhere in our portion. Moses turns to the people and says (27:9): Pay heed and hear, O Israel: this day you have become a people to the Lord your God (“Attend and hear, O Israel: this day you have become a people to the Lord your God”). The Talmud in Berakhot 63b derives from here two expositions:

What does ‘hasket’ mean? Form groups and engage in Torah study, for the Torah is acquired only in fellowship. (“What is the meaning of ‘hasket’? Form groups and engage in Torah, for Torah is acquired only in fellowship.”)

And further there:

Break yourselves over the words of Torah. And this is in accordance with Reish Lakish, who said: Torah endures only in one who puts himself to death over it, as it is said: ‘This is the Torah: when a man dies in a tent.’ (“Break yourselves over the words of Torah, in accordance with Resh Lakish, who said: Torah endures only in one who puts himself to death over it, as it is said: ‘This is the Torah: when a man dies in a tent.’”)

The first exposition concerns the communal aspect of Torah: Torah is acquired only in fellowship. The second exposition concerns a struggle that appears very personal. A person must break himself over Torah and nullify all his individuality before it. This is, precisely, profoundly personal work.[2]

Another point is that the personal labor consists precisely in nullifying the personal before Torah. Only after such nullification does the Torah become “his Torah.” Regarding this, the Sefat Emet expounded if we are, while it is read not we. If not we—“not we”—then and only then if we are—“we are His.” Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that only then is there an “us” at all.

In these verses there is guidance as to how we become a people. If each person does his task in Torah, and thereby shines his light into the world, only then is there a people here. A people is not merely a collective entity, nor merely an individual one. Even Torah study—which is what makes us a people (and from here comes a source for R. Saadia Gaon: Our nation is a nation only through its Torahs, “our nation is a nation only through its Torahs”)—contains these two components.

If so, in Torah study self-nullification is a condition for existence and real identity. One who nullifies himself to Torah, personally and collectively, becomes both an individual and part of a people. By virtue of what are we (“what are we?”) we become an “us.”

The conclusion is that although Torah is acquired in fellowship, it is also bound up with profoundly personal labor. If one does not meditate in his own Torah, no one else will be able to save him—that is, to do it in his place. This has consequences for him as an individual, and for the community and the world as a whole as well (which lack this personal light).

It may be that there is also a distinction here between stages: at the stage of acquiring Torah (basic study), fellowship has greater importance. Each person must nullify himself, hear Torah from others, and learn it together with others, in fellowship. At this stage Torah is not personal but objective. A person receives Torah from Sinai, and it is still in raw form (from his perspective). This is the material on which he is supposed to work later.[3] This is a necessary stage, but only an initial one. Out of it, at the second stage, each person’s personal Torah will emerge.

One cannot skip this initial stage. Whoever tries to create his own Torah too early will end up like a blind man, and his light will not come into being. Only out of self-nullification before the objective does personal Torah emerge. After it emerges, it becomes attached to Torah in its current form, which is the result of all this labor of all the generations before us. For the generations to come, personal Torah will become part of the transmitted, objective Torah, and they will build upon it further levels.

A further, more direct conclusion is that one who thinks he can engage in other matters—important commandments though they may be—and thereby exempt himself from engagement in Torah (“I am not going to be the greatest scholar of the generation anyway”), casts darkness upon the world and upon himself, even if he himself is not blind. The curse upon one who does this is that, in addition to his dwelling in darkness (which is what he causes to himself and to the world), he also becomes blind (which is a punishment from the Holy One, blessed be He); that is, he loses the ability to “see,” to create his personal part in Torah. None of the others who engage in Torah will be able to do my work. As we have seen, I can be saved only by means of my own light.

Of this it is said: For a commandment is a lamp, and Torah is light. A commandment is a lamp—that is, a means. But the light itself is created only from Torah. The commandments are a means to Torah. Regarding this, the author of Nefesh HaChayim explains the fear of the Lord is his treasure, that is, the fear of God is a treasury (a storehouse) into which Torah enters. The commandments are the lamp that creates the light. They are the means that build the capacity to see, so that we will not be blind. As we have seen, there is indeed significance even to the “lamp,” that is, to the means (the capacity to see), in its own right. But its ultimate purpose is the “light,” that is, the result produced by the lamp. That result is the spreading of each person’s light and the prevention of darkness—the personal darkness that depends on me alone.

[1] On the basis of this reasoning, we rule that a blind person, too, recites Who forms light (“Who forms light”). Similarly, on this basis it is accepted that on the Sabbath one lights a lamp for a blind woman in childbirth so that others can see how to care for her.

[2] There is a third exposition there in the passage derived from this word:

            First be silent, and afterward break it down. And this is in accordance with Rava, who said: A person should always study Torah first, and afterward reflect on it. (“Be silent first, and only afterward break it apart. In accordance with Rava, who said: A person should always learn Torah first, and only afterward reflect upon it.”)

There are many sayings of the Sages that instruct us first first to master the text, and then to understand it—to master the material, and only afterward to reason from it; breadth of knowledge precedes analysis. But today, in my humble opinion, this no longer necessarily suits us. One who does not know how to learn analytically can scarcely derive benefit from breadth of knowledge. In any event, a person’s personal Torah certainly lies mainly in analysis and not in breadth. A person’s “Torah” is recognizable in the form of his own reasoning and analysis. Breadth is something objective. In that respect, perhaps this exposition is connected specifically to the collective exposition that appears earlier, rather than to the individual exposition.

[3] In the terms of the previous note, one may say that this is broad mastery of the analytic material. In yeshiva one studies the objective element within analysis (in yeshivot this is called the “reid”). We must gain mastery of this in order to arrive at and create the personal level, our own addition to the edifice.