The way of the world

Many people have a misconception about Judaism that impedes their ability to take it seriously and to commit to living the Jewish way of life. Let me tell you about one such person and the conversation that I had with him. Let’s call him Richard.

Richard was a dedicated participant in a class I once gave for individuals with limited familiarity with the Jewish faith. As I recall, the title of the course was “Fundamentals of Judaism for Beginners.” Besides my weekly lectures, I invited students to meet with me for informal conversations, during which we would discuss their personal reactions to what we were studying formally in the classroom.

Richard took me up on the invitation a week or two before the course concluded. “Rabbi,” he began, “Let me get to the point. I am a practical guy. My friends refer to me as ‘the last of the great pragmatists.’ I hope you don’t mind my candor, but I must say that much of what you’ve been teaching us turns me off. It is all about symbolic religious practices, miracles, angels, an invisible deity, and belief in a world to come. What about this world, the real world of day-to-day living? I’m an architect, married with two little children. What does the Judaism you’ve been teaching have to say to me?”

Richard’s objections were not new to me. I had heard them many times before from a variety of people, and I’ve responded in many different ways. But in Richard’s case, my impulsive self got the better of my philosophical self, so here is how I answered him:

“Richard, you are making the same mistake as did Moshe Rabbeinu!”

Richard was taken aback. “You’re comparing me to the biblical Moses? Furthermore, I’m shocked to hear you, Rabbi, insinuating that Moses was capable of error!”

“Let me explain myself, Richard, and you will understand where I’m coming from. Did you ever hear of a man named Bezalel?”

Richard was only familiar with the major heroes and heroines of the Bible. He had hardly any knowledge of the so-called “lesser” characters. So I quickly filled him in. I began by informing him that Bezalel too was an architect, with divinely granted gifts of wisdom and skill sufficient to qualify him as the chief architect of the Mishkan, or Tabernacle.

I shared with him the thought-provoking anecdote related by Rashi, in his commentary on the second verse in this week’s Torah portion, Pekudei (Exodus 38:21-40:38). The verse reads: “And Bezalel, son of Uri … made all that the L-rd commanded Moses.” Rashi notes that the verse does not read, “all that Moses commanded Bezalel.” Rashi, based on a passage in the Babylonian Talmud (Berachot 55a), tells of the following fascinating dispute between Bezalel and Moses:

“Even with regard to those details that Moses, Bezalel’s master, did not transmit to him, Bezalel was able to discern the precise instructions that Moses was given by the Almighty. Moses had commanded Bezalel to first fashion the sacred furnishings of the Tabernacle and only then to construct the Tabernacle itself. Bezalel protested that this was not ‘the way of the world,’ the minhag ha’olam. Rather, the ‘way of the world’ was to first construct the house and only later to fashion its furnishings and place them in the finished structure. Moses responded, ‘You are right, Bezalel. That is precisely what I heard from the Holy One Blessed is He. Your name means, “In the shadow of the L-rd.” Indeed, you must have been in the L-rd’s very shadow to have intuited His divine instructions accurately, whereas I myself failed to “get it right.”’ And so, Bezalel proceeded to first complete the tabernacle itself and only then to fashion its sacred furnishings.”

Courageous commentators such as the venerable Maharal of Prague insist that Moses erred and forgot what he was originally told by the Almighty. They even propose reasons for his memory lapse.

Richard was duly impressed by the story. Astute young man that he was, he immediately got my point. However, courteous young man that he was, he permitted me to elaborate in my own fashion.

I explained to Richard that Moses is described in rabbinic literature as a kind of “split personality.” The upper half of his body was heavenly, and only the lower part of his body was of this earth. Moses was the only human being ever to have spent a significant number of days in heaven. He conversed with the angels and indeed debated them victoriously. He had little tolerance for human foibles, and because of his emphasis upon sublime values and spiritual priorities, he sometimes lost sight of the “real world” and its need for practical solutions to mundane challenges.

“Moses,” I said to Richard, “was, in a sense, prone to the same misconception as are you and so many others. Surely, there is a component of our religion which deals with otherworldly matters, and which sounds so alien to those of us whose priorities are practical and of this world. Bezalel, on the other hand, knew of the necessity for pragmatism and practicality in everyday life. He well understood that often, the way to determine the Almighty’s will is not by awaiting voices from heaven, but by ascertaining what is useful and effective in the world we live in.”

I went on to remind Richard of the late Rabbi Simcha Zissel Broide, whose tutelage I was privileged to experience in person and whose writings I cherish to this very day. He devotes the last essay in his commentary on the Book of Exodus, V’sam Derech, to the subject of Bezalel’s wisdom. He teaches that careful observation of simple facts often leads to profound knowledge.

In this essay, he makes the vital point that many of us frequently overlook: “The way of the world is also the will of the L-rd.”