Repairing the World Repairing the Soul

Many years ago I saw an American television movie (it might have been a mini-series; I forgot the name), which followed the experiences of a group of friends during the turbulent sixties. I remember the show only because of one line from one scene that made a real impression on me; you might say it changed my life. The end of the movie dealt with the end of the period, the transition between the sixties and the seventies, a very different era, which would come to be known as the “me decade”. In the memorable scene a woman tells her friend that she intends to change her life, leave the group, and live a quiet life alone in a small town. Her friend reminds her of the important work they’ve done together during their years of social and political activism, and of all the world’s problems that have yet to be solved – and she screams at her: “There’s a whole world out there!” To which the first woman replies, with her hand on her chest: “There’s a whole world in here!”

Many of us are attracted to the idea of tikkun olam , “repairing the world”. Some of us see this concept as the essence of the Torah’s message, and the purpose of our lives as Jews. Tikkun olam ties in naturally to Rosh Hashanah, which according to tradition is the day on which the world was created, the day of God’s enthronement as Sovereign of the world, and the day on which God judges the world and determines its fate for the year to come. The phrase tikkun olam in the sense that we use it has its origin in a liturgical poem written originally to serve as the introduction to the Malkhuyot section of the Rosh Hashanah liturgy (and still serves that function, even though it is so beloved and beautiful that it has been incorporated into the daily liturgy as well). I am referring to Al Ken Neqavveh , the second paragraph of the Aleinu prayer, in which we find the phrase letaqqen olam bemalkhut Shaddai , “to repair the world with the sovereignty of the Almighty”.

The universalism associated with Rosh Hashanah is rooted in Rabbi Eliezer’s opinion in Bavli Rosh Hashanah 11a, according to which the world was created in Tishrei. However, according to the Rosh Hashanah sermon found in the midrash Pesiqta deRav Kahana , it is not the first day of creation that coincides with Rosh Hashanah, but the sixth – the day that God created man . The universal quality of Rosh Hashanah is evident, of course, whether we celebrate the creation of the world or the creation of man on that day. In fact, the Mishnah states that God created man in the form of a single person, Adam, so that each unique individual would feel “the world was created for my sake” (Sanhedrin 4:5). The Rosh Hashanah mahzor emphasizes global aspects of the Day of Judgment alongside very personal ones: God examines the heart of each individual, but he also decrees the fate of nations, “whether war or peace, famine or plenty”.

This summer was a busy time for world repairers in the state of Israel. Wielding orange or blue banners, they came out in full force to “fix the borders of nations in accordance with the number of the children of Israel” (an endeavor ascribed to God in the song of Moses, Deuteronomy 32:8). Those with orange banners saw this as the last opportunity to repair the world in accordance with the promises of the book of Genesis, and to announce to the world that the borders drawn by the Almighty for Abraham’s descendants are the ideal. The blue banner wielders, on the other hand, saw this as the last opportunity to restore Israel’s borders to reasonable proportions, fixing international boundaries in accordance with the actual numbers of the children of Israel and Ishmael.

The day before the disengagement, Erev Tish`a Be’av , Shabbat Hazon 5765, I was sitting in the synagogue, lost in thought about the upcoming course of events, when my thoughts were suddenly penetrated by the Torah reader’s voice reciting a series of forgotten verses from the end of the Torah portion for that Sabbath, Devarim. These are verses that I must have heard and read and studied before, but which nonetheless took me completely by surprise, and shocked me with their relevance. God commands Moses: “. Behold, I have given into thy hand Sihon king of Heshbon, the Amorite, and his land; begin to possess it and challenge him to battle ” (Deuteronomy 2:24). And what does Moses do? “I sent messengers out of the wilderness of Kedemoth unto Sihon king of Heshbon with words of peace , saying: ‘let me pass through thy land; I will go along by the highway, turning neither to the right nor to the left.” (verses 26-27). Moses deliberately violates God’s explicit command: he is ordered to provoke battle with Sihon, but instead he sends emissaries on a mission of peace. And God ignores him, arranging things exactly as he had planned originally, without Moses’ help: “But Sihon king of Heshbon would not let us pass, for the Lord thy God hardened his spirit, and made his heart obstinate, that he might deliver him into thy hand this very day. And the Lord said unto me: ‘Behold, I have begun to deliver up Sihon and his land before thee; begin to possess his land.’ Then Sihon came out against us, he and all his people, unto battle at Jahaz. And the Lord our God delivered him up before us, and we smote him, and his sons, and all his people” (verses 30-32).

When Moses smote the rock accidentally instead of speaking to it, God was furious, and decreed that Moses’ lifelong dream, to enter the Promised Land, be snatched from him a moment before it was to become a reality. This is the gravest punishment that could possibly be inflicted on a person who devoted his entire life to one goal. Yet here, when Moses deliberately turns his back on God’s explicit command, refusing to do his part in establishing international boundaries in accordance with the divine plan, God ignores him, and carries out his plan without Moses’ cooperation. God deprives Sihon of his free will and hardens Sihon’s heart, in order to fix the borders of nations as he pleases.

That is to say: the role that God allots us in tikkun olam is not all that significant. Right- and left-wing politics are much ado in the hearts of men and women, but the counsel of the Lord will stand forever, regardless of people’s best efforts. To paraphrase Lekha Dodi : Break out to the right or to the left, but worship the Lord. Note that our prayer in Al Ken Neqavveh is not “And so we hope to repair the world with the sovereignty of the Almighty”, but “And so we hope for you, O Lord our God, to speedily see your glorious power remove idolatry from the face of the earth and utterly destroy false gods, in order to repair the world with the sovereignty of the Almighty “. We don’t hope to change God’s world. We hope that God will change his world.

That is the case with regard to the outside world and its inhabitants, nature and the universe at large. But there is another world. There is a whole world “in here”, within each of us, and repairing that world is our responsibility. Moses was not punished when he veered left, in accordance with his conscience, after God told him turn right, but he was punished severely when he lost his temper with the Israelites and smote the rock. Moses’ dream was snatched from him a moment before it was to become a reality, because of a single moment of inner disharmony. Which is more important: extracting water from a stone by speaking rather than smiting, or war and peace and Israel’s borders? On the divine level, it’s hard to tell. But one thing is clear from God’s very different reactions to Moses’ two violations of the divine command: on the human level, the individual is responsible for repairing his own soul. He can try to play a role in tikkun olam , but it will never amount to much.

Does this mean that the individual can never have any effect on the world? Chinese Taoist sages believed, paradoxically, that the less a person tries to influence the world, the more influence he or she has. Making an effort to change the world either has no effect at all, or else it backfires, leading to unforeseen negative consequences. On the other hand, changing one’s own life such that one lives in harmony with his nature has a natural effect on the world:

Can you love and guide
without imposing your will?
Can you open the gates of heaven
by letting events take their course?
Can you grasp the four corners of the earth
Without involving yourself?

Engendering and nourishing,
engendering without possessing,
acting with no expectations,
guiding without controlling:
this is the supreme virtue.
(Tao Te-Ching 10)

Our sages, too, warned against vain attempts to influence the world. The Tannaim in Tractate Avot admired people who stayed away from official positions of power and leadership (Avot 1:10), and even those who refused to accept the role of judge (Avot 4:7), despite its importance in society and the rabbinic world-view. They took exception to people who tried to control, not just guide: “Do not say: ‘Accept my view’. That is their prerogative, not yours” (Avot 4:8). The rabbis were also aware of the paradox described by Chinese sages, and phrased it in their own way: “Greatness runs away from those who run after greatness. Greatness runs after those who run away from greatness. Time puts pressure on those who put pressure on time. Time stands aside for those who let themselves be swept aside by time” (Bavli Eruvin 13b).

Putting pressure on time means trying to change the world. Letting yourself be swept aside by time means accepting the course of events as they happen, and coming to terms with the world as is and its natural pace. May we devote this Rosh Hashanah, and our lives following it, to repairing our souls rather than pressuring time. If each of us succeeds in repairing his or her soul, tikkun olam is assured.

Prof. Moshe Benovitz Professor of Talmud and Jewish Law.

Photo by: Alex Starjmister, KKL’s Photos Archive.