Shabbat and the Suspension of Purpose BY RABBI JAY ROSENBAUM
Adapted from the original publishing in The Jerusalem Report (February 2021)
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any years ago, I was part of a pre-shabbat meditation group in my synagogue in Worcester, Massachusetts. Midway through our session, a child outside began to whine in a very loud and irritating voice. Aware that the distraction might be distressing us, our teacher said, “Think of it as just sound.” She was letting us know that it wasn’t the pure sensation that was causing us distress; it was the meaning we attached to it: “Why is this annoying child whining and interfering with our pre-shabbat peace? Why aren’t his parents disciplining him?” Our teacher’s thinking was that if we could detach ourselves from these meanings, or assign a different, more compassionate meaning to the sound, our anger might be lessened. A central goal of shabbat is to detach ourselves temporarily from the meanings we have assembled during the week and train ourselves to hear “pure sound.” The core prohibition of shabbat is ’melechet machshevet’ (work), which has an intentional goal, because God created intentionally for the six days. The Rabbis tell us that before God created our world, God entertained many possibilities but rejected them. Finally, God created light and saw “that it was good (ki tov).” The words “ki tov” are God’s way of saying, “This is what I intended. I’m sticking with this one.” Intention, purpose, and commitment are all wrapped up in these two words. Being created in God’s image means that we are capable of intentional acts. We are free to choose among possibilities, and to choose is to commit to a path, a purpose. This movement from possibility to purpose is reflected in the weekday shacharit service. During the first blessing before the Shema, we proclaim: Ma rabu ma’asecha Adonai, kulam b’chochma asita. How magnificent are your works, O Lord, in wisdom you have made them all.
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This verse is a quotation from Psalm 104, where the poet marvels at the stunning beauty and variety of God’s created world, from the young lions that roar for their prey to the power of the sea that contains numberless creatures. When we admire the world in this way, we are in attention mode. Our stance is one of appreciation and wonder. We are not judging at this moment. We are simply taking it all in. As we move toward the Shema, we move from non-directed attention to intention and focus. The words for directed attention in rabbinic literature are “kavannat halev.” The verb l’chaven in Hebrew means “to aim.” So, we can translate kavannat halev as “directed consciousness.” It is no accident that this moment of supreme focus is preceded by the language of love. Just before we recite the Shema, we say: Baruch ata Adonai, ha-bocher b’amo Yisrael b’ahava. Blessed are You, God, who chooses His people Israel with love.
Love is always an act of choice, a focusing, a narrowing of the field; it is an act of judgment. When God sought a love partner for Adam, God first brought him all of the animals of the field. But what began with possibility culminates in a judgment. When Adam sees Eve for the first time, he proclaims, “Zot ha’paam! I choose her!” And the choice of love implies a profound commitment. In the same spirit, just before we say the Shema, we are reminded that God has chosen us. A moment later, we choose God. In making that choice, we commit to loving God “with all our heart, with all our soul, and with all our might.” Love begins with possibility and culminates in commitment. We think of love as an opening of the heart, but it is also a closing of the heart, a final answer, a focusing of our emotion on one person, or One God. Thus, from the unbounded possibility of “ma rabu/how varied are Your works, O Lord,’ we move to the focused energy of the Shema. Just before we recite the Shema, we recite these words: V’yached et levaveinu l’ahava u’l’yirah et sh’mecha... Unify our hearts to love and revere your name… Va’havienu l’shalom mei’arbah kafot ha’aretz. Gather us in peace from the four corners of the earth.
As we recite these words, we physically enact our focused mindset by gathering the tzitzit (fringes of the four corners of our tallit) and bringing them together in one hand. The nature
Photo © Svetlana B., Unsplash
Photo © Zou Meng, Unsplash
of commitment is that all of our energy is concentrated on a single point, a single cause, a single person. That’s what gives commitment to a relationship such great power. It is not chance that this is precisely the moment during which we commit ourselves to One God: Shema Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Echad. Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One.
The weekday prayer service is an imagination game we play in which we visualize ourselves making the journey from a variety of choices to a commitment, to a powerful purpose. That commitment requires that the totality of us be present. And so, we recite: V’ahavta et Adonai Elohecha b’chol levavcha, u’vchol nafshecha, u’v’chol m’odecha. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might.
God is One because we aspire to be one. We aspire to live lives of coherent purpose, and for that we need kavanat halev (directed consciousness). Purpose gives our life energy, coherence, and vitality. But the concentration of energy we need to develop a sense of purpose requires us to narrow our angle of vision. In the process of this focusing, we can miss important things. The danger of such tunnel vision is illustrated by the story of the Tower of Babel. In this story, the builders build in only one direction: vertically. It is in the nature of great builders to produce structures that are tall and narrow. The physical narrowness of skyscrapers is a tangible expression of the focused mindset required by human ambition to achieve a great purpose. Such an undertaking often requires human beings to be regarded as mere
pawns to be sacrificed all too readily in the march toward some glorious goal. Bereshit Rabbah tells us that when a brick fell from the tower, there would be great weeping. But when a person fell to his death from the tower, no one paid any attention. The problem with a life that is too heavy in purpose is that we can begin to look at other people instrumentally. But we are more than instruments for someone else’s purpose, and so is everything around us. A life of purpose is a richer life than a life which is unfocused, random, and incoherent. But we can get the meaning wrong. In moving from possibility to purpose, we may limit our vision too much. So, we need to regularly re-introduce possibility into our consciousness. In order to correct for the imbalances of a meaning-making, purposeful life, we need a day that radically shifts our mindset in the opposite direction. That day is shabbat. On shabbat, we temporarily suspend judgement and intention. We let go of purpose and meaning. Instead, we cultivate a state of mind of acceptance, openness, and non-directed attention. The Torah says: Six days you shall work and do all of your work. The rabbis ask: “Is it possible for a person to complete all of his work in six days? After all, there is always a new challenge, a new goal to achieve.” “Rather, say the Rabbis, “On shabbat, a person should imagine that he has actually completed all of his work.” (Mechilta de’Rabbi Yishmael, 20:9)
Six days a week, we judge the world and ourselves and find them wanting. But, one day of the week, shabbat, we take a break from improving ourselves and everyone around us. We cast all judgment aside and engage in an act of radical acceptance. We are to imagine that the world is perfect as it is. On this day we suspend all criticism of our loved ones, the world, and ourselves. Shabbat is a day to say to our husbands and wives, our children, our neighbors, and ourselves, in the immortal words of Fred Rogers, “I love you just the way you are.” The heart is a muscle. It expands and contracts. There is a time for gathering and a time for opening. The rhythm of shabbat and weekday mimics the beating of the human heart. The weekdays are a time for ingathering, for concentrated energy, for determined, intentional action, for building. Shabbat is for attention, an opening of the mind and the heart. It is a time to stop building the tower and notice the people who are building it. Rabbi Jay Rosenbaum is Rabbi Emeritus of Herzl-Ner Tamid Conservative Congregation. With over thirty-six years of rabbinical experience, he has created programs that both engage and educate. A M AT T E R O F S P I R IT
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