Father or King?
Chapter 3, Mishna 18(b)
By Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld
"He [Rabbi Akiva] used to say, beloved is man for he was created in the
image of G-d. It is a greater love that it was made known to him that he
was created in the image of G-d, as it is said, 'For in the image of G-d
did He make man' (Genesis 9:6). Beloved are the Children of Israel for
they are called children of the L-rd. It is a greater love that it was
made known to them that they are called children of the L-rd, as it is
said, 'You are children to the L-rd your G-d' (Deuteronomy 14:1). Beloved
is Israel that they were given a precious utensil (the Torah). It is an
greater love that it was made known to them that they were given a
precious utensil, as it is said, 'For I have given you a good possession;
do not forsake My Torah' (Proverbs 4:2)."
Last week we discussed the distinction between being fashioned in the image
of G-d, which is the case with all humanity, and being the "children" of
G-d, which is unique to Israel. As we explained, every human being has a
divine soul and a natural inclination towards goodness -- as well as the
free will to follow the dictates of his soul rather than those of his body.
In this sense we are all formed in G-d's image. This trait, however, goes
only so far. If a person ignores his soul and follows his animalistic
and/or selfish desires, given enough time his soul will ebb away and cease
to influence him for the better. And in a spiritual sense -- and in the
eyes of G-d -- he will be dead.
We, the Children of Israel, are different. We do not only *have* souls, but
they are forced upon us. We are the children of G-d (figuratively, of
course). And just as a truly caring parent never entirely forsakes his
child, G-d never allows our souls to entirely perish within us. Even if a
Jew lapses fully from spirituality and tradition, G-d preserves that divine
spark within him or her, not allowing it to become utterly extinguished.
And the Jew, the child of G-d, no matter where he finds himself and how
many years or generations have elapsed, will feel that inexorable pull
towards his roots. His conscience -- his soul -- will never fully be
quieted. Even if hardly audible, it will pull him towards G-d. And he will
be plagued with a deep and gnawing sense of lacking until he heeds its cry.
This week I'd like to expand upon this distinction. If the Children of
Israel are G-d's children, what are the Gentiles? G-d's subjects. To the
rest of man G-d is King. To us He is King as well, to be sure -- in a way
He governs us far more demandingly than the world at large -- but He is
also Father. I'd like to examine this concept a little more closely. But
before I'm misquoted, I'd like to offer a brief disclaimer. I do not
intend to imply that the Gentiles are somehow rejected and remote from
their Creator. G-d loves all of humanity. Every human being is granted the
opportunity to build a warm and loving relationship with his G-d -- and to
earn his share of the World to Come. And although as we will see Israel
has the potential for an even more intense relationship, this is not an
issue of black-and-white, love or hatred. As I've pointed out many times,
Judaism is the only religion (to my knowledge) which does not claim that
if you're not "in" -- if you don't do things exactly our way -- you're
damned to hell. Israel, with the Torah and the 613 Commandments is on the
forefront -- and for that matter has the most high-risk a relationship
with its Creator --but in the grander sense, not a single human being is
left out.
Now, returning to our subject (bad pun there), let us contrast the
king-subject relationship to that of the parent-child. I believe there are
two defining aspects to the master-subject relationship. The first is in
terms of intensity. Say a subject serves his king faithfully. He will
certainly be duly rewarded. And if he openly rebels he will be punished.
Say, however, he neither distinguishes himself for good nor for bad. He
will attract little notice. The FBI will not stalk him, the IRS will not
audit his returns, and the police will carry out no sting operations on
his home. But neither will he ever be distinguished for superior service.
He will likely live out his life unseen and unnoticed.
Now, of course, the analogy of being unnoticed is not really applicable to
an all-knowing G-d. G-d knows each of us quite well. He sees a lot more
beauty and value in a human soul than we ourselves are aware of. However,
such a subject will not develop a warm and loving relationship with his
King. He will exist as a mere subject or servant of a remote Creator. It
will be a loss to himself, to G-d, and to humanity, but life will go on.
A second aspect of the king-subject or master-servant relationship is that
it is in essence a pact of pragmatism. Each party is looking out for
itself. It does for the other because (and so long as) it serves its own
interests. If a servant does not obey his master properly, the master can
easily dispose of him and replace him with another more suited. And if a
servant finds his master too cruel or oppressive, he will rebel or run
away. Their bond is no stronger than the interests thereby served -- what
we will learn later is called "a love which is dependent on something"
(5:19 www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter5-19.html), and which is as
transient as the "something" it is dependent upon.
The parent-child relationship is very different in both regards. Parents
too make demands on their children, and children must serve their parents.
But the relationship is not founded on practicality. It is founded on
love. A parent wants his or her child to succeed for the child's sake. A
truly caring parent wants what is best for his child, invariably over and
above what is best for himself. (As I've heard R. Noach Weinberg
(www.aish.com) point out, we get the slightest inkling of G-d's selfless
love and caring for us when we ourselves bear and raise children.) The
child likewise wants the parent's needs fulfilled because he feels an
instinctive bond with his parent. Ideally, he does not serve the parent
because *he* gets something out of it at all, but because it is what his
parent wishes.
Further, unlike the subject who might be indifferent to the king's needs, a
child can never shirk his duties to his parent. A subject can be distant
from his king. If he chooses not to distinguish himself, he will earn
neither the king's censure nor his approbation. But a child can never be
indifferent to his parent. There is no greater affront to a parent -- or to
anyone you have a close relationship with -- than ignoring him or her.
(Have you ever had that experience -- the person you're arguing with won't
even dignify you with a response? You're not even worthy of being
disagreed with. It cuts like a knife...) And such is far worse even than
insulting the other. Even if I argue, yell and insult, I at least feel you
are worthy of my insult: I have *something* to say to you. There are
*some* lines of communication: you mean enough to me to be yelled at. But
if I ignore you, you are not worthy of any regard. You don't exist as far
as I'm concerned. You are a nothing; not even worth the insult.
Sometimes, a wife in a difficult marriage will say she'd rather be ignored
than treated the way she is. That might well be true. But when spouses
begin ignoring each other rather than yelling, it is clear their
relationship is over. They might find living their own separate lives
preferable to living with each other. But calling a cease-fire is not
marriage. It is living separate, isolated existences. Choosing not to
communicate and endure difficult interactions might improve the lots of
the individuals involved (and might very well be the only practical
approach), but it also makes it clear that the relationship is dead.
We can now appreciate our mishna's second statement regarding Israel. G-d
granted us the precious utensil known as the Torah. G-d did not grant it to
us as part of a contractual or king-subject relationship. The idea is not:
Do this and earn reward. A servant or an employee might be offered such:
Work overtime and I'll give you a bonus. And he might well decide to forgo
the bonus (or even suffer the punishment) just to avoid the toil. It's his
reward to accept or reject. But this is not the case with the Torah. Our
mishna calls it G-d's "precious utensil". It is a symbol of G-d's bond with
us -- G-d's marriage contract with Israel. And such a precious gift cannot
be rejected -- just as the relationship behind it can never be ignored. We
must accept and cherish G-d's precious bestowment, bequeathed from loving
Father to child. For G-d has given us the means to true relationship with
Him. By studying the Torah's wisdom and values and integrating them into
our beings, we become children worthy of our Parent. For it is a "good
possession"; G-d asks that we not forsake it.
Text Copyright © 2004 by Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld and Torah.org.