Teaching ourselves about Hashem
We are all familiar with the idea that the Ten Plagues were an educational tool used by Hashem to educate Paro about the true nature of Hakadosh Baruch Hu. Recall how Paro mocked and dismissed Moshe’s initial wish to have the Jews offer a korban to Hashem in the desert. Paro replies to Moshe that he has never heard of the Israelite G-d and consequently is not bothered or worried that a plague or punishment will affect his slave workforce.
Throughout the duration of the Plagues, Paro discovers a G-d who controls everything from the water to the sky and all in between. We hear the magicians declare that the lice is the finger of Hashem and that they are powerless to defend the people against this G-d. The Torah repeatedly claims that the plagues were to educate the Egyptians and Paro about Hashem.
So I wonder (as an educator, it’s my job) how many bnei Torah would have the ability to speak convincingly about Hashem just for a minute. I don’t mean tell a story when Hashem is a character , but to actually describe what we mean and how we ought to relate to Hashem. Many years ago I attended an interview with my son for a local high school. The panel did an excellent job selling their idea of frumkeit, rules that were important to the school, that give it its’ unique flavour. They were interested who I daven with and the colour of my clothes, cufflinks and belts.
They didn’t ask if we are a family that seeks to daven to Hashem and have a relation with him, they were not interested in ahavas Yisroel, only a certain type of Yisroel, the rest ought to be shunned lest they pollute the child’s thoughts and they in turn corrupt the pure minds of every other student. Why this really isn’t shocking is because it is a common experience. Tragically, Judaism has become a religion of action and uniformity whereby if we all look the part and do exactly the same thing then our inner world really doesn’t matter. We don’t discuss HKBH because it’s awkward and potentially could reveal a real problem. As long as the external actions looks ok, we convince ourselves that we don’t need to dig any deeper.
One of the Tzadikim from Eretz Yisroel writes that people (wrongly) learn during davening instead of just davening because davening is tough and it’s emotionally hard to accept that all our needs come from Hashem. Whereas learning is satisfying and intellectually stimulating and a person feels good about himself. Consequently, to avoid the risk of negative feelings a person opens a sefer to grab hold of the positive feelings and davens with a little less feeling and authenticity.
If you are tempted to take up the challenge of becoming skilled in being able to discuss Hashem then permit me to suggest how that might happen. When we open a chumish or gemoroh we need to communicate to ourselves and others that Hashem is communicating to us directly. The words are not like other words. Every letter, syllable, word expresses the infinite love that Hashem has for us. These words connect us to eternity. The scrolls and volumes are our love letter from Hashem. When we mutate our sifrei kodesh into tools for teaching a language or skills or worse for punishment, they become burdens and oppressive. If leining on a Shabbos is so fast that it’s over in minutes then we must ask if the ba’al koreh really believes they are sharing the word of Hashem with the community. If this was a treasured message from an ancestor, it would be read with gravitas and dignity. If we or our children or students cannot imagine dancing with the sefer being learnt, then we/they have not understood the sweetest love that is contained within it. We are all taught as
children that we must kiss these holy seforim, but as we age and mature we forget why and it becomes another ritual devoid of meaning. So, we must reconnect the Author with His Sefer and express the idea in words, “I am reading the words of Hashem, that He has given His special nation that He loves.”
When we daven, it’s hard to constantly be alert that we are talking to Hashem and He is actively listening. It is very challenging to experience a conversation. We tend not to talk to ourselves and when we see people doing just that we worry about their sanity. Davening looks just like we are talking to ourselves. Perhaps people chat in shul, not just because they are being friendly, but because it feels more normal to talk to someone next to you. However, the gift of davening is the ability to connect with the kol yachol, the creator of heaven and earth, to shut out the noise and commune with Hashem in the most personal way. As a teen, I was privileged to daven in a weekday minyan with Rev Leslie Hardman (amongst many things, he was the first Jewish British Army chaplain to enter Bergen-Belsen concentration camp).
I recall him saying that it would be better for the tzibur to say a couple of paragraphs of the long Monday and Thursday Tachnun than garble the entire text without meaning. Of course, such intelligent advice and pure spirituality fell on deaf ears then and would fall today too, in our desire to be accepted and seen as doing the right thing in the eyes of others. Davening is an eternal awakening, a personal conversation, we can make it more real if we have those conversations during the day with Hashem. We must bring Hashem into our lives, live with Emunah and repeat constantly “everything that happens is from Hashem and it’s all good.” If we make Hashem personally relevant and a real character in our lives, then tefilla becomes accessible.
In a shmuz by Rabbi Shafier he writes that “One of the challenges we face today is that because knowledge is so common, we are no longer moved by it. To live meaningfully, we need to renew a sense of freshness in what we experience. We need to put back the “wow” factor in our lives. When we do, we have an unending source of inspiration. We are able to constantly see Hashem in front of us.”
In our search for understanding we have become too clever, we struggle to get excited by what we see as mundane. We flood our brains we stimulants and we become overly stimulated. We then search for more intense experiences. Paro and the Egyptians witnessed the destruction of their country and the exodus of their slave population.
A few woke up in time, others were still interested in going to sleep even on the night of the final plague. Please, dear readers we must remain awake and not practice a sleepy Yiddishkeit whilst our children watch and learn from us. Our mitzvos, Torah learning and davening must be awake to the reality of connecting with Hashem. Doing so will make Hashem real and when that happens, we will be ready to welcome Moshiach and the Beis Hamikdosh, men women and children all together. Kein yehi ratzon!
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