When You Feel Like a Stranger in Your Own Judaism (A Shavuos Teaching)

Hello there, I'm Tanya Hazana, and [music] you're listening to Human and Holy. Today, in honor of Shavuot, which is just a couple days away, we are going to be learning some Torah together about the receipt of the Torah and a machlokes [music] about the hearing and seeing, and what that teaches us about having a more general picture of our Judaism versus a relationship to all of its parts [music] individually, and how receiving the Torah means both hearing the Torah and seeing the Torah, and we are going [music] to dive into what that means, what it means to be both a traveler and at home, what it means [music] to see the larger narrative while also being deeply invested in all the parts and the particulars, what it means to witness and perceive [music] a person in full versus experiencing them from within. All of these are going to help us tease out what it means to receive [music] the Torah through sight and sound. Keep your eyes out cuz next Sunday we are going to be airing a really special episode, which is a round table conversation about women's Torah [music] learning. This week we're going to be receiving the Torah, and I think that question of what does it mean to receive the Torah happen the week after. So, Sunday after Shavuot, we're going to be sitting down for an incredible round table conversation exploring women's Torah study, women's experiences of their own study, how to integrate it into your life when you are busy and have so much else going on. Is Torah just for the scholars? Is Torah study just for women who are intellectuals? How can we communicate to our daughters that the Torah belongs to them and so much else? This is a really rich and fascinating conversation and I'm very excited to share it with you. Today's episode is dedicated in honor of Reuven Morison, Hashem Yikom Damo, may God avenge his blood, who was killed on Erev Chanukah at the bombing attack. This episode is dedicated in honor of my father, Reuven Morison. His daughter writes, "Born in the USSR, my father understood what it meant to fight to keep Torah and Yiddishkeit alive. He knew what it meant when being openly Jewish came with fear and sacrifice. Later in life, he chose a life of Torah and mitzvahs with complete conviction. He lived with pride in who he was and wanted every Jew around him to feel that, too. My father spread the Rebbe's flames of Yiddishkeit in the most real way possible. He was unconventional and completely unapologetic about who he was. People connected to him because nothing about him felt polished or performative. He was honest, direct, warm, emotional, and deeply real. He made people feel proud to be Jewish simply by the way he lived. But more than anything, he was the most incredible father, father-in-law, husband, and zaida. Our family felt his love in everything he did. May this learning be a zchus for his neshama, and may his story continue to encourage people to live openly and proudly as Jews. Never forget the video of Reuben Morison at the Bondi attack lifting that brick, and you can feel through this message of his daughter what a remarkable larger-than-life man that he was. Today's episode and today's Torah is dedicated to him. It feels very rabbinic to start with a joke, for this is actually a joke that the Lubavitcher Rebbe himself said, and it's the perfect framing for the conversation that we're about to have. There was once a new rabbi who was hired by a less affiliated shul. He wanted to give his first speech, so he told the president, "Why don't I talk about mezuzah?" And the president was like, "Uh, it might be a little offensive to people." So he said, "Okay, why don't I talk about shmiras Shabbos, Shabbos observance?" And he said, "Nah, lots of people here don't practice, so talk about something else." So he said, "Okay, why don't I speak about kosher?" And the president was like, "No, you can't." So he says, "So what should I speak about?" And the president says, "Judaism. Talk about Judaism." Is there a broad vision of Judaism that supersedes all of these different parts, that supersedes Shabbos, mezuzah, kashrus? Can you talk about Judaism without talking about its parts? Should we have a broad framework and vision of our Judaism that everything else in our lives fits into? Or should we have multiple frameworks and perspectives, each that individually live in our lives? Let's begin with the question of Rav Gedaliah Schorr. He says that we see a little bit of a contradiction in the Torah. One midrash says that all of the Torah was included in the first set of luchos, of tablets. Everything was there, the entire Torah. And in Talmud Yerushalmi, in another source, it says that Hashem told Mosha, "Don't worry that the first Luchos were broken because that was just the Aseres Hadibros, that was just the Ten Commandments, and the second set of Luchos has the whole Torah." So, which one is it? Did the first set of Luchos have the entire Judaism or was it only in the second set of Luchos that we received the entire Judaism? Are all of the particulars contained within the overarching message of Judaism? There's a dispute in Sota Talmud Zion between Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Ishmael discussing how Torah Shebaal Peh, how the Oral Torah was transmitted. Rabbi Ishmael said, "The general principles were set at Sinai, but the details of Torah Shebaal Peh, of the Oral Torah, were set by Mosha at the Ohel Moed in the Mishkan." Rabbi Akiva said, "No, the whole Torah was taught at Sinai and then again by Mosha at the Ohel Moed. So, it wasn't that Mosha was teasing out the details of the Torah, but that he was just repeating what was already given." If we have to break down this conflict of opinion, it's that Rabbi Ishmael saw the Torah as particular truths and Rabbi Akiva saw the Torah as a single universal truth and all of the details of the Torah being subsumed within that single truth. We see this underlying conflict of opinion in another conflict that Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Ishmael have around the Jewish people's experience of the Torah. Let's pull to the text to see it inside of the verse. "Vayakhel ha'am ro'im es hakolois, v'es halapidim, v'es kol hashofar, v'es hahar ashein, vayara ha'am vayanua, vayaamdu merachok." All the people witnessed the thunder and lightning, the blare of the horn and the mountain smoking, and when the people saw it, they fell back and stood at a distance. "Vayakhel ha'am ro'im" the entire nation saw "kol hashofar" the sound of the shofar. Were they seeing sound and hearing the sights? There's an enormous amount of Torah on this question asking if the Jewish people's senses were mixed up, if they were getting this supernatural ability to literally hear an image and see a sound. There's a fascinating medical condition called synesthesia, where which is a neurological experience where people have sensory crossover, where the five senses, which are normally five different modalities of experiencing and intellectually processing the world, melt with each other. So, a person can see shapes when smelling or perceive the taste of words or sounds can have colors. And obviously, we can see how this can lead to tremendous creativity. Beethoven described music in this way. B minor is black, D major is orange, and this gives a person crossover between their senses, where they are experiencing almost the wrong sense for the experience that they're processing, and it gives them a remarkable and interesting crossover. So, is this what the Jewish people were experiencing at Har Sinai? Were they experiencing synesthesia? According to Rabbi Shmuel, they saw the sights and they heard the sounds and there was no crossover of the senses. According to Rabbi Akiva, their human senses were switched over, and they heard the sights and saw the sounds. In order to understand the underlying conflict have happening between these two sages, in order to understand what the disagreement is about the general overarching truth of Judaism versus the particular truths of Judaism versus the experience of seeing and hearing clearly versus seeing and hearing in this crossover experience, where the senses melt, we have to dive into the different experiences of sight or sound. Seeing something and hearing something is a vastly different experience of the world. When you see something, it is immediate. You were immediately confronted by the totality of the object or experience in front of you. You don't take it in part by part. You see the entire thing all at once. You don't need to piece the thing together. You immediately get the whole. When you walk into an art gallery and you see a large massive painting, you are immediately confronted, overwhelmed, immersed in the lines, colors, shades, hues, shadows of this piece before you. The first experience of sight is taking it all in at once, getting this panoramic effect of whatever stands before you. It's called the overview effect, and astronauts report having a totally different relation to planet Earth after seeing its totality, after seeing it in full. Over time, in the example of the art exhibit, you spend you can spend hours staring, noticing the details, filling in the granular view, all the details that make up this large painting. With the person, you could first have the first impression of just what you feel when you're around this person, and then over time, you could begin to understand the details of what makes this person who they are, what contributes to that whole image. You begin to get the details, the prot that contributes to this claw, to this general and whole picture. Everyone says a picture is worth a thousand words, but if you ask someone who sees a picture, "Can you give me a thousand words?" they would say, "No. I need to peer at this. I need to study this. I need to notice all of the details in order to give you the thousand words that this whole image expresses. Through sight, you absorb a huge amount of data, but that data is subsumed within the whole. You go from the center outwards, from the holistic to the granular, from the overview to the details. From the panorama experience to zooming in. What is hearing? Hearing is the exact opposite. When you hear something, you hear one detail at a time. There is no immediacy. You absorb slowly, point after point, and slowly build up your knowledge of what this thing before me is. Your relationship is bottom-up or outside-in. You start on the outside, and you reach from puzzle piece to puzzle piece until, hopefully, you put everything together and get a glimpse of the claw, of the general picture. You go word by word, sentence by sentence. Why is this relevant? What does this mean? Understanding each point individually, and then it all comes together. Now I see the full picture. Now I see the full view. So, I walk into an art gallery, I see the full image. I see a picture, I get a whole mood, a whole feeling. When I listen to something, when I hear something, when someone communicates an idea to me, I get a piece by piece by piece, detail by detail by detail, until finally, it makes up a whole. So, seeing is seeing the whole thing first and then all of the details. Hearing means getting all of the details first and filling that in to make up the larger whole. It's interesting when you think about how we absorb other people and that first impression versus all the details that make up who a person is. There's an amazing story with the Alter Rebbe and the Tzemach Tzedek. The Alter Rebbe is the first Chabad Rebbe and the Tzemach Tzedek was his grandson, which really demonstrates this point. The Alter Rebbe was holding his young grandson, the Tzemach Tzedek, and the child looked up at his grandfather and said, "Zeda, Zeda." And so, the Alter Rebbe asked him, "Who is Zeda? Where is Zeda?" The grandson pointed to the head of his grandfather. And the Alter Rebbe said, "This is the head. This is not Zeda." So, the child then pointed to the Alter Rebbe's heart and said, "This is Zeda." And the Alter Rebbe said, "This is the heart. This is not Zeda." The grandson, the Tzemach Tzedek, continued to point at other parts of the Alter Rebbe's body in order to find a place where Zeda lived. His beard, his face, his arm. And in response to all of these attempts, the Alter Rebbe responded that his grandson had indicated a specific limb of Zeda, but not Zeda himself. So, the Tzemach Tzedek started walking around on his own and when he got to the door, he pretended that his finger had gotten caught in the door and he began to yell, "Zeda, Zeda." And the Alter Rebbe turned to the child, turned to his grandson, and said, "What is it? What happened?" And the child replied, "This is Zeda. This is Zeda." That person who turned around when I called him. That whole you that responded to my gaze, that made eye contact with me just now. That is Zeda. Zeda is not the head. Zeda is not the heart. Zeda is not the beard. Zeda is not the arm. Zeda is you standing before me exactly as you are, meeting my gaze. Zeda is you responding to me in this moment and you in your wholeness turning towards me when I call out in pain. There's a remarkable essay written in 1953 by Isaiah Berlin called The Hedgehog and the Fox, which takes its title from a fragment by a Greek poet. The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing." >> [snorts] >> And Isaiah Berlin uses this line as a way of dividing thinkers and people in general into two temperamental types, the hedgehog and the fox, two different ways of perceiving the world and receiving and experiencing ideas. Experientially, what it feels like to be one or the other is that the hedgehog lives inside of a unified vision. Everything that she encounters refers back to a single organizing center, a master idea, a moral principle, a metaphysical conviction, a sense of how history or human life is supposed to add up. Everything is an episode in a larger story. The fox's experience of life is one that is irreducibly plural. The fox attends to a particular on its own terms, takes pleasure in variety and contradiction, doesn't feel a constant pressure to fit what she encounters into an overarching scheme. The hedgehog feels like the entire world is cohering and finds coherence under one principle and idea. And the fox feels like the world is teeming and is just full of range and flexibility and a thousand different perspectives. The hedgehog reasons from the top down. There's a central truth and the work of understanding and knowing is to grasp that central truth and then interpret all particulars in its light. That means that knowledge is systematic, the many is explained by the one, apparent contradictions are signs that you haven't yet seen deeply enough. And the fox reasons from the bottom up. Knowledge for the fox is the accumulation of many distinct things. Everything is observed in its specificity. Not everything has to add up to a single theory, and different domains, according to the fox, may require different methods and different vocabularies. Each type of thinker has its own strength and its own failing. For the hedgehog, the hedgehog, there really is this unifying principle and truth, which is very grounding and rooted, but the system could become reductive. For the fox, the fox has a strength, which is also its risk, which is that it's able to witness contradiction in life and see how they can both live side by side, but there can also be no center to stand on, no essential truth. If we had to put the hedgehog and the fox, which we have to, which I want to, put it into the framework of seeing and hearing, the hedgehog is seeing, immediately taking the whole thing in, all of the particulars being subsumed and bound up with this one unifying vision. I walk in and I see the painting. I walk in and I see the whole vision. And the fox would most closely resemble hearing, taking something in piece by piece, every piece of information needing to stand on its own, and then that making up the larger whole of reality. So, let's look back at what the machlokes of Rabbi Shimon and Rabbi Akiva were saying. Let's look back at what this machlokes of the first dibros, the first set of luchos, and the second set of luchos were saying. What is the underlying contradiction that we are addressing? This contradiction of letting the sight and sound of receiving the Torah exist for what it is, versus allowing it to mess with your senses. Rabbi Shimon's argument, which is that they heard the sounds and they saw the sights, is telling us to stay local, to perceive Yiddishkeit by the particulars, to not superimpose Judaism on your life, but to look at every single detail. To talk about Shabbos, to talk about kashrus, to look at the mitzvos, to look at my experience of the mitzvos, to go granular on the details of Judaism. Rabbi Akiva's argument was that they saw the sounds, they heard the sights. He's saying, let it mess with your senses. Let every particular be subsumed by the whole. Let the Torah completely shift how you see things. Let everything fall under this greater truth that transforms you. If we look at their biographies and their background, their perspectives are going to make a little bit more sense. Rabbi Akiva was on the outside looking in for so many years. He became a scholar when he was 40. So, paradoxically for him, he wanted to adopt the avodah, the service of an insider to see the transcendent, to see the whole Judaism, not just to learn the particulars, but just to witness the whole and be completely moved by it, to be completely shaken, completely changed. He wanted to emphasize his weak point. He constantly searched for the transcendence, for the perspective of the creator. Something that will that one unifying frame that shatters your new normal frame of reference. And that's the experience of receiving the Torah and having all of your senses scrambled, perceiving the unity of God and having all of your senses of reality scrambled. Your whole sense of self turned upside down. Your entire experience of this world just completely pulled under that framework of this one unifying truth of God. This experience of receiving the Torah lifts us out of our humanity and allows us to just completely experience the essence in a way that totally transforms our experience of ourselves. We'll be small headed a different perspective. He was born into holiness. He was born on the inside. So, he wanted to experience the opposite. He wanted to go to the outside. He wanted to experience the details, the particulars. He wanted to be the fox experiencing everything for what it was. He was born into this overarching Torah truth of Judaism. And he said, "Now I want to touch the details, the particulars, and the way those meet me where I am, the way I see with my own physical eyes, the way I hear with my own ears, the way I'm not scrambled by the truth of Torah, but where I am, who I am, where I'm at meets it exactly eye to eye. I'm not overcome. I'm not passing out. I'm not fainting under this larger truth. Everything in my life may not naturally fit like the hedgehog into this one system, this one truth, but I meet each piece of my Judaism for what it is. I meet I meet each truth of the Torah that I received at Sinai for what it is in my life. The question is, should my focus be on the macro, on this all-consuming truth, or should my focus be on the micro, on the details of Yiddishkeit as it relates to me, on the particulars of the mitzvahs, the ones I struggle with, the ones I don't understand, the ones I love, my own particular experience of my Judaism is exactly as I am? Or should I just be consumed by this larger truth? Should I have my senses scrambled? Should I be completely consumed by this fire of receiving the Torah, this experience of thunder and lightning, where suddenly I can taste God in the world? I want to go back to the joke about the new rabbi who wanted to talk about Shabbos, but the president found it a little bit offensive. What is Shabbos on its own, and what is Shabbos within the broader framework of Judaism? It's two separate questions. And the contradiction of Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Ishmael are telling us we need both. We need to understand what Shabbos is within the broader framework of Judaism. We need to be a hedgehog. And also, we need to be a fox. What is Shabbos on its own? What is each particular of Judaism on its own, standing for what it is as a detail that I don't only see within a larger whole, but I see for what it is in my life as its own value, as its own meeting place between me and this Jewish value, me and this Jewish idea, me and Hashem in this very particular way, not just in the larger framework and the larger system of Judaism, but this actual mitzvah in front of me, this actual moment in front of me, and me as I am right now meeting this mitzvah and meeting this moment and meeting this part of my Judaism. I think you see this duality and the necessity for the duality very clearly in the experience of human relationships and how a relationship has this meta-narrative and this overarching story and the origin and the years of time and the ways you've given to me over the years and the resentments I may hold and the recurring disagreements and the acts of love and this whole overarching truth and story that I have in this relationship, this overarching narrative. But then there's also the experience of I go for a walk with you. And it's lovely. It's a Wednesday afternoon. We're on a walk. I'm talking to you. You're listening. We We could be two strangers having a conversation. This conversation is lovely outside of the narrative of our relationship, outside of our history and our story and everything we are to each other. Right now we're two human beings taking a walk together, having a conversation. And how lovely is this? And this experience of accessing the particular moment of this relationship allows me to see it in a fresh light, to find relief from some of the larger pieces that may be challenging for me, and allows me to see this moment for what it is without all of the larger stories and narratives that it fits into. So difference between being at home and traveling. When you're home, you don't notice the details of home, all the parts. All of it comes together as a whole and creates this experience of being home. And I don't just mean a literal home, but that feeling of being at home somewhere, where you are not measuring yourself, where you are inside a place, you are safe, you are not threatened, you are enclosed and not exposed. You're at ease, you identify with the place, you're here, you're unselfconscious, you're home. And we all have people in our lives who feel like home, that when we are with them, we our self-consciousness, hopefully we have this with family and close friends, that our self-consciousness abates and we just exist, we're just here, we are inside the experience, inside the connection, inside of our own selves, we're fully at home. We just exist fully here without self-consciousness, without this experience of outsideness, of being separate from the other, from perceiving ourselves and the other person, but we're just totally here. In the experience of travel, you perceive the details much more sharply because there's such a strong otherness between me and the place I'm in. When I meet a new person, because I experience such an otherness between me and this other person, I actually notice them sometimes more clearly. Because I'm not at home with this person, I'm perceiving them. There is an otherness to them. There's something to look at, something to see outside of myself. The feeling of outsideness is the lived tension between you and the space. It's an inherent self-consciousness, the feeling of it is over there. If home is, I am here, I'm inside this, being in a space where we are othered outside is the experience of that is I'm here and that is over there. I see myself in relation to the other person. I see myself in relation to the place. I feel a certain strangeness, a certain otherness from this thing. We have two ways of looking at our Judaism, from inside and from outside, here and there. One is to be within our Judaism completely, to completely surrender to that larger vision and whole, to lose our self-consciousness, to lose our otherness. And then there is the experience of our Judaism where I see myself in relation to my Judaism. I see myself as separate from my Judaism. I see the ways I chafe against my Judaism. I'm not only inside my Judaism as a modern person or just as a human being, I am also outside of it. And for those moments where I am outside of my Judaism, I need the particulars to bring me home. For those moments where I feel disconnected from someone I love, I need a walk where we can just be two people having a lovely conversation not under the overarching narrative of our connection. We need to both see and hear. We need to be the hedgehog and the fox. We need to be able to see the panorama of our Judaism and also see its details. You need to be able to appreciate the local truths of Judaism even when you have a hazy vision of the panorama, even when you don't see how every part fits into the whole, even when you do live with a thousand contradictions. Rabbi Ishmael is saying, "See Judaism as imminent." Rabbi Akiva is saying, "See Judaism as transcendent." And Rabbi Ishmael says, "See Judaism as so imminent that you do not see everything as part of a greater whole, that you do not always endeavor to." He says there's truth to your local, specific, individual, limited experience of the details of Judaism. Every mitzvah is not just part of a larger whole. It is a world unto itself. I don't always have to see each encounter with Hashem, each encounter with my Judaism as part of this larger narrative of the truth of the world and existence. It can also just be me and Hashem in this moment, outside of that larger narrative. It is not enough to believe that God created everything and I am just completely within that source. I'm completely at home here. I must recognize also that Hashem is dependent on me as me in my particulars, in my particular moments of connection from where I am. Each of us have areas in our Judaism where we feel at home, where we feel here, not there, where the reality of Hashem completely transforms us and uplifts us. But then we have areas where we are on the outside looking in, where we feel like strangers, alienated, self-conscious, perceiving our Judaism from the outside, seeing it for its particulars, struggling or celebrating it for its particulars, not just for its larger whole. When we're in those moments and experiences, to resist the urge to swim away from them, to resist the urge to find a Judaism that will sweep us all away, that will just bring us home completely. But instead, to see how God is with us there. To become a fox. When you lose sight of the vision, when you lose sight of the overarching truth, when you lose sight of that overarching surrender, change the goalpost from how can I fit myself into this master plan, and shift it to where is God for me right here, right now, in this. How can I meet Hashem in the particular, even if so much is unresolved in my relationship? Being here, right now, with you on the couch and having a conversation. Take a step back. Be a visitor. Allow yourself to be a stranger in your own life. Allow yourself to witness the details of the thing. To witness the details of the Torah. The real here, really being here, is to allow ourselves to both be here and also over there. To be at home within our Judaism and also be a stranger to it. To allow ourselves to experience those particulars. There are so many ways that this truth shows up for me in my life. When I am struggling with a particular element of Judaism that seems to chafe against my personality or my desires, the instinct is to surrender to that larger whole. But the opportunity is lost when I don't focus for a moment on the particular, me chafing against this one particular value or idea. Not just surrendering it to the whole, but allowing myself to feel outside it and to approach it for what it is on its own. There's a rich experience of receiving the Torah, where my senses are scrambled, where I literally hear the sight of godliness completely, where I feel totally given up, totally unself-conscious, totally within the experience of receiving the Torah in my life. And then there are many, many, many moments of our own Judaism, many moments of connection to Hashem, whether that be us struggling with our Judaism, whether that be a challenge in our life that puts us at odds with the trust in God that we see as being the highest bar bar of connection, where I have to slow down and see the particular, where I have to look at Shabbos, just Shabbos as it is, not just as part of the larger story, but Shabbos as it is. I have to look at this one value, this one moment and interaction with Hashem, this particular experience where I feel like a stranger, where I feel my self-consciousness, where I feel like an alien to the Judaism that should be my home. And I reach for Hashem there, from outside. Rebbe Nachman is saying, "Sometimes when you're surrendering, when you're trying to get deeper and deeper to the essence, you aren't really here. You aren't really at home. You're trying to reach the transcendent. You're trying to reach higher. You're trying to reach over there. And he says, "Stay here. Stay right over here. Exactly where you are. When you feel outside, you are the most inside you've ever been. When you feel like Judaism is over there, but you allow yourself to be completely within this moment, Judaism is right here. Sometimes reaching for the transcendent, being totally scrambled, is actually reaching outside of ourselves. Othering our Judaism. And sometimes when we feel like aliens, when we feel outside, when we feel estranged or we feel distant, and we can just focus on the particulars. We can truly bring it home. We can truly meet Hashem exactly, genuinely, truly from where we are. On Shavuot, we receive both the broad vision and overarching narrative and truth of the Torah, which totally consumes us. And we also experience the invitation to see with our own eyes, to hear with our own ears, to recognize in those moments where we feel distant, where we feel at odds with the Torah we are receiving, that we can zoom in on the particulars, on the moment with Hashem, on the details of the mitzvah that I am celebrating or struggling with, that I could be here, right now, exactly how my Yiddishkeit is meeting me. And to recognize that that otherness that feels like being separate, that feels like being far away, that feels like being estranged, is actually the gift of being a traveler, of seeing things with fresh eyes, of hearing each thing for what it is, and not allowing it to get lost in the larger whole. What I'm taking with me from this teaching into my life is the recognition that the particular struggles that I have are not going to be solved more generally. I have to lean into the specifics. I have to lean into right here, right now. What is hurting? What do I feel disconnected from? What do I feel estranged from within my Judaism? And to be a fox to pay attention to the contradictions, to lean into every opposing thread in my life and to receive the Torah not just as this overarching truth that doesn't touch every part of me, but as something that asks me to meet Hashem in every particular part of who I am. Wishing you a beautiful Shavuot. May you experience how the Torah belongs to you. Hashem wants to both lift you to a higher plane and also meet you exactly where you are. [music] Looking forward to seeing you next Sunday for a round table about women's Torah study. Thank you so much for listening to today's conversation. If you loved it, feel free to leave us a [music] five-star rating or review. It's a small lift but really supports Human and Holy in growing and expanding our work. 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