By Rabbi YY Jacobson

The Scroll

This week’s parsha (Vayalech) relates the dramatic events that transpired during Moshe’s last day on earth. Among the many things he did on that fateful day was committing the entire Torah (the Chumash, the Chamisha Chumshei Torah) to writing. The Torah scrolls we use today are copies of copies of copies of the original Torah scroll written by Moshe on the day of his passing, on 7 Adar.

After completing the writing of the full Torah, Moshe commanded the Leviim, “Take this Torah scroll and place it at the side of the Ark of the Covenant of the Lord your G-d, and it shall be there as a witness for you.” The Mishkan in the desert and later the Mikdash in Yerushalayim housed the Aron Hakodesh containing Two Luchos inscribed with the Aseret Hadibrot and the newly completed Torah scroll needed to be placed at the side of this Aron.

The exact location of the Torah scroll on the side of the Aron inspired a debate between the Talmudic Sages. Rabbi Meir held that the Torah scroll needed to be placed inside the Aron, at the side of the Two Luchot. Rabbi Judah was of the opinion that a shelf protruded from the outside of the Aron and the Torah scroll was placed on that shelf.

The logic behind their argument lay in the proper interpretation of Moshe’s above-quoted words, “Take this Torah scroll, and place it at the side of the Aron.” According to Rabbi Judah, “at the side of the Aron” is to be understood literally—that the Torah scroll ought to be placed not inside but outside the Aron. Rabbi Meir, on the other hand, believes that the words “at the side of the Aron” are merely coming to tell us that the Torah scroll should be placed not between the two Luchot, but rather at the side of the Luchot, next to the interior wall of the Aron.

Three Questions

Three questions come to mind.

Firstly, why did Rabbi Meir feel compelled to impose an apparently twisted interpretation on the words “at the side of the Aron”? Why did Rabbi Meir not embrace Rabbi Judah’s simple and straightforward explanation that when Moshe instructed the Torah scroll to be placed “at the side of the Aron” he meant it literally, outside the Aron?

Second, why was there a need altogether to have the Torah scroll situated in such close proximity to the Aron?

Finally, we discussed numerous times that the Torah and all of its commandments and episodes were transcribed to serve as a Divine Blueprint for living, as a road map for life’s challenging journeys. How can a 21st-century human being glean wisdom and inspiration from an ancient commandment to place a Torah scroll at the side of an Aron, at a time when we have no Aron and no Luchot? What type of relevance can Moshe’s instruction to the Leviim carry for our lives today?

The Root vs. the Branches

Our Sages have said that the Aseret Hadibrot presented at Har Sinai and inscribed on the Luchot Habrit embodied the quintessence of the entire Torah, all Five Books. All perspectives, themes, ideas, laws, ethics, and stories of Torah are encapsulated in the brief 620 letters of the Aseret Hadibrot. The Five Books of Moshe, then, serve essentially as a commentary to the Aseret Hadibrot, elaborating and explaining the background, meaning, and significance of these ten pillars of the Jewish faith.

The Luchot constitute the source, the epicenter, the nucleus of Judaism; the Five Books are the elaboration, the explanation, the outgrowth.

The debate between Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Judah on the kinship between the Torah scroll and the Luchot is not merely a technical argument concerning the proximity of two physical entities; but rather a profound disagreement on the fundamental methodologies of the development and communication of Judaism.

How close do we need to uphold the connection between the core of Torah and its expansion? Are we capable of “leaving the box” containing the Luchot without losing the “real thing”?

This is by no means an abstract dilemma. How does one communicate ancient truths to a young generation molded in a secular weltanschauung? How does one present a Torah which is over 3,000 years old to a modern 21st-century iPhone-addict? How do we pass on the gift of “In the beginning, G-d created heaven and earth” to Stanford and Yale graduates for whom Charles Darwin holds more sway than Moshe?

Are we to present Judaism in its original form and composition, without employing modern-day terminology, techniques, and structures of thought? Or must we take Judaism “out of the box” and re-package it in contemporary language?

The argument rages to this very day. Some teachers and presenters of Judaism are accused of lacking the ability to communicate to a “new generation” of Jews, while other teachers are accused of “liberalizing” Judaism, of diluting its pristine ideas on order to accommodate the modern Jew or non-Jew. One of the Ten Martyrs executed by Rome in the second century CE was Rabbi Chutzpis HameTurgeman, whose name means Rabbi Chutzpis the Elucidator. The Kabbalists comment that to truly elucidate and present something in a new form you have to have Chutzpah, hence his name was Chutzpis.

The Light and the Vessels

The Talmud says something profoundly moving about Rabbi Meir: It is known to the creator of the world that Rabbi Meir surpassed his entire generation and he had no equal. Why then did they not establish the law according to his opinion? Because the Sages could not comprehend the depth of his wisdom.” Rabbi Meir was misunderstood by his own colleagues; his ideas were too advanced for his times.

“Meir” in Hebrew means “the Illuminator.” The light that emanated from Rabbi Meir’s mind and heart were too profound for his colleagues and students. Why? Because Rabbi Meir was of the opinion that all interpretation and development of Torah-thought must remain intimately bound with its source. The commentary and exposition may never be removed from the space of their progenitor. The Torah must be placed right near the Luchot. To dilute the light in order to accommodate the vessels will do an injustice to the integrity of the message.

According to Rabbi Judah, however, the word of G-d needs to leave the perimeters of the sacred Aron and be brought outward. Judah, Yehudah in Hebrew, means surrender or submission. One has to surrender his or her own elevated state of consciousness in order to reach out and present the Torah to the student who would not be able to absorb the intense light dwelling “inside the box.” Judaism, Rabbi Judah argued, needed to be presented in a manner that would make it accessible, relevant, and pertinent to people trained in a different mindset and even those educated in the schools of Athens. For according to Rabbi Judah this is not a cop-out, but rather a great noble act of self-surrender (Yehudah). It is easier to just repeat the old phrases and sayings, to remain secure in the ancient pathways, but you need to transcend your comfort zone in order to bring the light and truth of Torah to those outside. I once received an e-mail from a weekly reader, a very learned and observant Jew from Los Angeles: “Rabbi Jacobson, would you cease transcribing your psycho-babble and begin teaching good old Judaism.”

So, I wrote back: “You are of the opinion of Rabbi Meir; in my emails I attempt, at times, to follow the path of Rabbi Judah. May G-d be with me in my writing.”

Loyal to the Source

Yet here is the critical catch: Even according to Rabbi Judah, the Torah must always remain connected to its source by means of a plank of wood.

What this means is this: There is a difference between presenting Judaism in terminology and methodology that can speak to the mind and heart of modern man vs. attempting to prove that Judaism conforms to modern trends of thought. The former path is noble; the latter path is intellectually dishonest, as it does not seek to discover the authentic message of Judaism, only to create a fluffy Judaism that does not challenge the comfort zones of modern man.

This distinction between the two approaches has been profoundly blurred in recent years, and the results are obvious. The former approach has given countless students the opportunity to challenge themselves by the Divine truths of Torah; the latter approach has brought down Torah to suit the fancy of every imagination. In the end it comes down to the question: How confident are you in the truth of Torah? Are you employing modern thought merely to communicate Torah, or are you employing it in order to confirm to yourself and others the appeal of Judaism?

What Rabbi Judah is saying is that as far out-of-the-box as you travel, a “plank of wood” must always connect you to the original, pristine “Tablets” inside the box. The link between the nucleus of Torah and its expansions must always remain evident. If not, you may be depriving yourself and your students from the vibrant, pulsating, divine wellsprings of G-d’s word. I once had a conversation with a friend, a popular rabbi, who is heavily involved in broadcasting Judaism to the secular world. I told him that in my humble opinion, his communication of Judaism was lacking the energy that emanates from someone who is entrenched in serious Torah learning. I told him that he must dedicate time each day to study Talmud—those parts of Talmud that deal with intricate Jewish law and rituals that are abstract and not for “public consumption.” Only when he will be entrenched in the source of the wisdom, will his communication to the outside world be real and effective. He challenged my position. Yet I believe this is the truth: Only when you are submerged in the highest and deepest level of Torah study, will your communication of “sound bite” Judaism be authentic and meaningful. A “plank of wood” must always link the outside to the inside.

Who has the right to “re-package” Judaism? Only someone who is selfless (Yehuda), has no ego involved, and his only agenda is to share the word of G-d with others, a person who is completely loyal to the authentic source. But if someone lacks these qualities, they will frequently compromise and dilute, if not pervert, the pure waters of Judaism with the tarnished bacteria of trends and notions that are alien to Torah.