Towards the end of the parsha this week, God invites Moses to “ascend to God” (Ex 24:1) with Aaron, Nadav, Abihu and the seventy elders of Israel. They did so, and “saw the God of Israel; under His feet there was the very likeness of a pavement of sapphire, like the very sky for purity… they beheld God, and they ate and drank” (Ex. 24:10-11).
Much is made of the importance of the “spiritual encounter” these days. In our contemporary Jewish marketplace, a tremendous amount of conversation happens around whether a davvening experieince is “spiritual” enough, meaningful enough, connective enough. Whether with this kind of music or those instruments or that meditation or those chants one can have a truly profound experience of the Divine. And certainly, it seems to be important here: They saw God! God has feet! There’s a sapphire pavement! Duuuuude! That’s so amaaaazing!
And though there’s something to be said for the value and place of mystical experience… is it the point? Are these aesthetic experiences really the goal of the religious life?
In context of the chapter, its importance is very telling. Moses’ roadies came with him–partway up the mountain. They had a theophany, they ate and drank. It was cool.
But ultimately inconsequential. Right after the vision of God, Moses continues up the mountain, leaving his friends behind. He stayed there for forty days and forty nights. While up there, he did not eat or drink, presumably because he had transcended the needs of the body. He received the law.
He ascended higher up the mountain. Into a place not about visions, but about commandments. Into a place not about experiences, but rather, covenant. Moses, here, accepts his (and Israel’s) half of the responsibility for a relationship with the Divine. It’s not about getting something cool (theophany, mysticism) but rather agreeing to give something. It’s about getting a lot of rules to follow. All the “do this, don’t do that,” of the Torah, though seeming perhaps more inconvenient to the seeker of ecstasy, is explicitly, here, more important. This is called parshat Mishpatim, after all.
And, perhaps, practice of the law–giving of oneself, going out of one’s way to do law (even if refraining from X or Y doesn’t seem “spiritual”, even if it means that you don’t get to have everything you want the moment you want it, even if sometimes it’s hard) is a better way to meet the Divine after all. Moses, after all, didn’t just see God, he spoke to God “panim al panim,” face to face. He didn’t just have an experience of God, he had a relationship with God. And while theophany is fleeting, sometimes hard to control, a relationship is something more stable, lasting, and accessible at all times. Mystical experience is great, but it’s only halfway up the mountain. Perhaps every now and again it’s worth asking ourselves what we might be able to offer God, instead.
Comments (6)
And while theophany is fleeting, sometimes hard to control, a relationship is something more stable, lasting, and accessible at all times. Mystical experience is great, but it’s only halfway up the mountain. Perhaps every now and again it’s worth asking ourselves what we might be able to offer God, instead.
Nice!
I think you’re right that relationship with God is higher than fleeting mystical encounter. But — being me — I want to think that the moments of encounter can inform the longer, day-in and day-out, relationship.
Using the metaphor of a human marriage, I’d say that the really great moments — the spiritual high of the wedding; the spiritual and emotional and phsyical highs of, oh, great conversations, or great sex, or spending a day together where everything just works — can help sustain the relationship through the mundanities of paying the bills and buying groceries and folding laundry and scrubbing the toilets. For a marriage to work, one has to be invested in the day-to-day stuff; it can’t just be about pinnacle moments. But it’s good to get those peak moments, now and then, because they enrich the relationship and maybe remind the partners of what brought them together in the first place.
(I realize I’m more invested in mysticism than you are, so feel free to tell me I’ve stretched the metaphor too far. *g*)
But, isn’t this why there’s always been provisions on who may study mysticism? Isn’t this why it’s always been necessary to first be a master of the ‘mundane’ Torah before one may study the mystic side of things? Sure, in modern times, lots of people are looking for that short cut to transcendence, but Judaism has always stressed that there are no shortcuts. For anything.
Thanks, this was nice and another good antidote to our society’s (including much of Christian society’s) focus on what God’s gonna do for us instead of what we should give to God in order to forge a real relationship.
The Abnormal Is Not Courage
Jack Gilbert
The Poles rode out from Warsaw against the German
Tanks on horses. Rode knowing, in sunlight, with sabers,
A magnitude of beauty that allows me no peace.
And yet this poem would lessen that day. Question
The bravery. Say it’s not courage. Call it a passion.
Would say courage isn’t that. Not at its best.
It was impossib1e, and with form. They rode in sunlight,
Were mangled. But I say courage is not the abnormal.
Not the marvelous act. Not Macbeth with fine speeches.
The worthless can manage in public, or for the moment.
It is too near the whore’s heart: the bounty of impulse,
And the failure to sustain even small kindness.
Not the marvelous act, but the evident conclusion of being.
Not strangeness, but a leap forward of the same quality.
Accomplishment. The even loyalty. But fresh.
Not the Prodigal Son, nor Faustus. But Penelope.
The thing steady and clear. Then the crescendo.
The real form. The culmination. And the exceeding.
Not the surprise. The amazed understanding. The marriage,
Not the month’s rapture. Not the exception. The beauty
That is of many days. Steady and clear.
It is the normal excellence, of long accomplishment.
Reading the Parsha today, i was a bit confused about that verse. Great exlanation!!
Excellent, Danya! Good insight, and — considering American culture today — very countercultural! Radical Torah, indeed.