Rabbi Daniel Lapin:
See if you can guess the missing word in the opening sentence of
Maimonides' monumental code of Jewish law, Mishne Torah: "The foundation of
the entire structure and the pillar of all wisdom is to _____ that there is
a Fundamental Cause (God)." The missing word is not "believe" but "know."
The eternal challenge to the Jew of faith is to acquire so clear an
understanding of how the world works, that God's role becomes obvious.
This has nothing to do with fervent proclamations of faith or serendipitous
moments of epiphany. It has everything to do with years of disciplined
intellectual dedication. It may not be easy but neither is body building.
In both cases, devotees consider the effort worthwhile; what is more, both
provide highs along the way.
The path to both knowing and loving God is of course the Torah, which I
find to be a comprehensive blueprint of all reality. I do not mean the
book of stories that to many secularized Jews is nothing but accumulated
mythology for children or, at best, for adults with childlike minds. No, I
mean the majestic and mysterious data stream of about three hundred
thousand letters and the ancient oral wisdom that accompanies them.
Think of the millions of lines of software code that make up a computer
operating system such as Windows 95. These lines of code are written using
the conventional alphanumeric characters found on any typewriter keyboard.
The lines contain many easily recognizable words like "and," "go to," and
"stop." It is not hard to imagine that with a little ingenuity and effort
the characters, words, and numbers could be cunningly arranged to read as a
piece of prose. Thus one might encounter what appears to be a lengthy, if
poorly written epic poem whilst remaining oblivious to its higher software
purpose. We would endlessly debate the veracity of the saga and the
identity of the author without ever realizing the inestimable value the
document possesses when used as an operating system rather than as an
improbable narrative. The Torah is planet earth's operating system thinly
disguised as a piece of literature.
As such, its laws are every bit as binding as are say, Newton's laws of
motion. Which is to say they do not prescribe as much as they describe.
The laws of Torah do not inform us what we should do in the way that the
highway code tells us to adhere to the speed limit. They describe the
inevitability of cause and effect in societies of people over time. The
commandments, the mitzvoth, resemble the famous law of gravitation that Sir
Isaac Newton published in 1666. It is a mistake to suppose that, until the
17th century, Englishmen were free to float above the countryside like
untethered helium balloons until Newton ruthlessly suppressed their
freedoms with his oppressive new law. Likewise, Torah laws are binding
whether we wisely accept them as the rules of the game or attempt to
temporarily to dismiss them with a defiant shake of the fist. The
difference is between living what seems to be an absurd and random
existence and living in an ordered world of rules that are never easy but
always consistent. This is a lot like the difference between a hippie and
a physicist. One resents laws while the other is grateful for them.
Torah laws are designed to do far more than promote decency; they are
intended to produce holiness. If a nation's trendsetters are hedonistic,
the people will become depraved. If the trendsetters are only decent, the
people will be hedonistic. For the people to be decent, the trendsetters
must be holy. This has always been the intended role of the Jew in every
country. It also explains why those nations that played host to vital and
successful Jewish communities so frequently enjoyed tranquillity and
prosperity.
Without Jewish messianism it would be hard for hope and optimism to exist.
We would all wallow in the gloom and pessimism that now mostly pervades the
secular left. If the nukes don't get you, global warming will. They are
right. With no vision of a supernatural, if incomprehensible redemption
down the road, we must take the only rational alternative. Overcrowding, a
meteorite collision, food shortages, an unstoppable Aids epidemic; these
are only details. The one certainty is oblivion. And if the end is
oblivion, well, nothing much really matters in the interim, does it? By
eliminating the promise of that glorious day (even if only faintly grasped)
on which God will be one and His Name will be one, we gradually but
inexorably introduce into society the nihilism of nipples pierced through
by safety pins.
As harrowing and monstrous a nightmare as the Holocaust was, we introduce
our own brand of nihilism by celebrating it as the central event of modern
Judaism. Frankly, it has always puzzled me that intelligent communal
leaders lament Jewish youth's indifference to Judaism while simultaneously
assuring the same young people that Judaism is essentially about gas
chambers and crematoria. What do they expect them to do? It is futile to
deplore the lack of Jewish continuity without providing an answer to the
fundamental question: why be Jewish? The Holocaust is hardly the answer to
that question.
For all its centrality in Judaism, the Land of Israel did provide
secularized American Jews with an alternative to Judaism as a religion.
For the first time in centuries, Jews who rejected God and His Torah laid
claim to the mantle of Jewish identity. What actually made it all the more
appealing was that unlike the United States, which was rather
inconveniently founded by "religious conservatives," modern Israel was
actually founded by secular bolsheviks. It yet remains to be seen whether
that particular legacy will survive. So far, events entirely affirm my
understanding of God's real-estate-related promises to the Jewish People.
After a catastrophic crash, countless investigators gather to find out why
an airplane fell out of the sky. The real question is, why did it ever
remain airborne? The answer is that it had engines to convert chemical
energy into thrust and wings to convert thrust into lift. Remove any one of
those elements and the natural condition of gravity will predominate. The
story of late twentieth century American Judaism is the story of an
airplane running out of fuel. What has then transpired is entirely natural
and predictable. Denominational and ideological debates currently raging
are the equivalent of food-service problems on a plummeting airliner. They
are mere distractions as the altimeter spins dizzyingly downward.
The good news is that for those who wish it, the fuel tanks can be
replenished. A vital, successful, and culturally influential Jewish
community will reemerge. America will once again draw nourishment,
inspiration and direction from its Jews and the holy fuel of Torah. What,
me worry? No, of course not. That is what belief and faith are for. The
final chapter in Jewish history is a long way from being written.
Rabbi Daniel Lapin is founding Rabbi of Pacific Jewish Center (Orthodox) in
Venice, California, president of Toward Tradition and a radio talk show
host on KVI in Seattle.
Copyrighted material, reprinted from "What Do American Jews Believe?: A
Symposium," Commentary, August 1996, by permission; all rights reserved.
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