Judaism draws our attention to the preciousness and holiness of moments in time, reminding us of the limits of our power as human beings.
Until recently, if you had asked me to go camping, I probably would have made an excuse not to go. I’ve been camping before and I’ve had good experiences. But I’ve never been enthusiastic to go on a camping trip. I have to admit I’m a city kid and a bit… let’s say… fastidious. I don’t much like to get dirty. I don’t like bugs and reptiles. I like sleeping on a good quality mattress surrounded by 4 solid walls and roof. I like having a bathroom with a flush toilet and a shower. (In short, I’m a wuss.) At least that’s how I used to feel until this past weekend.
I spent last weekend with Melanie and the kids at Camp Ramah in the Rockies for the annual family Shabbaton. I have to admit that prior to the weekend I was not very enthusiastic about the trip. Ramah in the Rockies is secluded in the wilderness of Pike National Forest on the site of an old Girls Scouts camp, which even in its heyday was pretty rustic. As a person who likes his home environment, I get very nervous about all the possible contingencies – all the “what ifs.” I don’t like being caught off guard without my stuff. I want to know what to expect… but camping requires the kind of flexibility that I find uncomfortable.
So when we arrived at camp on Friday afternoon, we set up our tents and unpacked our gear and I was still pretty agitated. But then something happened. As the sun began to set behind the beautiful red mountains on the west side of camp, we made our way to where the young campers were holding their Kabbalat Shabbat service in a wide open field next to where horses were grazing. The campers’ spirited singing to the tune of guitars blended with the gentle outdoor sounds of evening… and a calm came over me that I haven’t felt in a long time. Suddenly I became aware of the beauty that surrounded me – the crisp breeze, the smell of pine trees, the babbling of a nearby creek, the waving tall grass, the majestic horses a few feet away, the expansive valley and towering mountains all around, colorful rocks and rich dark earth, and even the insects that I usually dislike. I looked at my children running around – healthy and happy. I looked at my beautiful and talented wife, who had organized the Shabbaton. I took a deep breath of mountain air and I felt at peace – profoundly grateful for everything that surrounded me. I let go of some of my worries and nervousness and resolved to accept whatever the weekend would bring.
It turned out to be a glorious experience. On Shabbat we sang, and played and prayed, and learned together. We had great conversations and enjoyed the outdoors. On Sunday and Monday we were treated to the activities the camp has to offer – hiking, mountain biking, rock climbing… and I got to go horseback riding for the first time in my life. And, yes, I got some bug bites, I didn’t bathe, I slept on the hard ground, it rained on us a couple of times, and our kids refused to go to sleep when we wanted them to. But, somehow, none of that bothered me very much.
For a city boy like me, spending a Shabbat in the wilderness reminded me of some very important lessons. It reminded me of the wisdom Dr. Abraham Joshua Heschel shared: that in humanity’s need to survive and conquer nature, we must not be tempted to believe that we have ultimate control. He taught that the rhythms and practices of Judaism draw our attention to the preciousness of the moment. This is especially true on Shabbat, when we refrain from labor and activities related to the conquest of things and space. And, being out in nature on Shabbat brings that into even sharper focus. Dr. Heschel wrote: “The solution to mankind’s most vexing problem will not be found in renouncing technical civilization, but in attaining some degree of independence of it. In regard to external gifts, to outward possessions, there is only one proper attitude – to have them and to be able to do without them. On the Sabbath we live, as it were, independent of technical civilization… Man’s royal privilege to conquer nature is suspended on the seventh day.”[1]
One doesn’t have to trek into the mountains in order to be independent of civilization – that, according to Heschel, is what Shabbat affords us. It is what he called “an island in time.” Nonetheless, taking a break from the creature comforts we all enjoy certainly reminds us that, in the scheme of things, what makes life meaningful is not what we possess or what we can conquer, but how we live with whatever and whomever surrounds us. It teaches us the limits of our power. It reminds us of what is truly valuable. Similarly, and perhaps paradoxically, being attuned to time reminds us that we are not in control of time.
In this week’s parsha, the Torah discusses a very interesting prohibition. Chapter 18 of Deuteronomy admonishes us not to imitate the practices of the surrounding pagan nations. Moses warns: “Let no one be found among you… who is an augur, a soothsayer, a diviner, a sorcerer, or who casts spells, or who inquires of the dead… [Instead] You must be wholehearted with the Lord your God.”[2] These practices are associated with paganism, and for that reason alone they are forbidden. But, the medieval commentator, Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman (known also as Ramban or Nachmanides) makes a very perceptive observation. In his commentary on these verses he asks: how can these things be abominations? After all, it is only human nature to want to know the future and seek out guidance about what’s to come. Furthermore Ramban says, these things have some efficacy. You see, Ramban was himself a mystic and he studied astrology. He writes in his commentary that some kinds of fortunetelling actually work! So what’s wrong with wanting to know the future? To answer this Ramban draws on Rashi (the most famous of the medieval commentators) who points to the next verse that says, “Tamim tih’ye eem HaShem Elohecha.” “You shall be wholehearted with the Lord your God.” Rashi says that to be “wholehearted with God” means to trust in God. Wholeheartedness means accepting with equanimity whatever comes – both the good and the bad. Ramban expands on this and says that the problem with necromancy and fortune-telling isn’t that it doesn’t work; rather the problem is that these things feed into our impulse to control the future and manipulate time.
One of our challenges as human beings is that we are indeed very powerful; but that power is also seductive. We start to believe we can defy time and space. But, Rashi and Ramban wisely counsel us to accept what the future holds without fear. That doesn’t mean being passive. Instead it means believing in the capacity that God gives us to deal with what life brings. It means we should embrace what Rabbi Irwin Kula calls the “sacred messiness of life” with humility, awe, and gratitude.
Like the experience of Shabbat that Heschel prescribes; and like the experience of nature and wilderness, the prohibition against sorcery in the Torah teaches us to put into perspective the limits of our power. These things teach us that our very lives are themselves precious; that the present moment is unique and valuable… but, only if we cultivate that awareness and let go of our desire to control everything. That means instead of always trying to cheat the limits of time and space, we should respect what we have been given; that we should trust in our capacity to deal with what life has in store for us with grace and dignity.
We are less than a month away from Rosh Hashanah. During this month of Elul leading up to the Holy Days is a time to reflect on the year that has passed and look to improve ourselves in the year to come. Paradoxically, one of the best ways we can do that kind of reflection is to be more fully present in the current moment. So, sometime between now and Rosh Hashanah, I hope you will find some quiet time – perhaps in the peaceful rest of Shabbat, or maybe in the tranquility of nature – to look around you, to gain some perspective, to think about the many blessings in your life, to be honest with yourself about the challenges, to feel grateful, to experience wonder and awe. It is the sort of reflection that happens when we let go a bit, when we refrain from trying to manipulate time or overpower space, when we take some time to just be rather than to do.
As Moses said, “May you be wholehearted with the Lord your God.” Shabbat Shalom.
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