The Stones of Yaakov: A Tangent that Isn't

Dedicated to the Four Kedoshim of Har Nof

Was ever a writer more disciplined than the Ramchal or a book more precise than the Mesilas Yesharim? Famous for its economy of language, the Gaon of Vilna declared that he couldn't find a single superfluous word in the first ten chapters. At the very least, we can expect the Ramchal to stay on point. Which is why I was troubled when I discovered a long, meandering tangent right in the heart of chapter one.

The author's message in this chapter is clear. Man was created to experience the pleasure of being with the Shechina. This occurs in the afterlife, but it must be earned first. Life on earth is our opportunity to earn that reward through the performance of Mitzvos. That's the chapter in a nutshell.

Strangely, right in the middle of this presentation on the meaning of life, the Ramchal introduces a mystical concept.

If you delve deeper into this issue you will realize that the world was created for the service of man. For if man follows after the physical realm, distancing himself from his creator, then he is ruined and the world is ruined with him. But if he controls himself and sticks with his creator, using the world solely to assist him in his service of his creator, then he is elevated and the world is elevated with him. 

Luzzatto proves this point with a well-known Midrash. The Torah tells us that although Yaakov placed multiple stones around his head before he went to sleep (Bereishis 28:11), in the morning there was only one stone there (28:18). Rabbi Yitzchok explains that each stone wanted to be the pillow for the Tzaddik. God had compassion on the stones and fused them all into one (Chulin 91b). 

There is an innate desire in all things, writes Luzzatto, to be of service to the "perfected man who is sanctified with God's sanctity," for by doing so the mundane matter is itself sanctified. Every lonely stone on every barren hilltop yearns to get closer to its creator.  

This is all very fascinating, but what relevance does it carry for our chapter? What difference does it make? Let us imagine, for a moment, that this is all false and the physical realm is unaffected by the presence of Tzaddikim. What bearing would that have on the fact that people were created to do Mitzvos and earn reward for the World to Come? None whatsoever. So why is the Ramchal writing about this here?

I struggled with this question for several weeks before I came up with an answer. 

All writers are afraid of being misunderstood, and the fear is particularly acute in writers of Jewish theology. The Ramchal was worried that some readers would think of life as a big casino. The game is to do as many Mitzvos as you can, accruing the maximum number of chips. And then, when you're finished playing, you cash in. Right? 

Wrong. 

This analogy is deeply misleading. While it can be said that we do Mitzvos in this life and receive reward in the next, that is only because the physical universe filters out the splendor of the Shechina. This has no bearing on the fact that every Mitzvah we do and every test we past builds a relationship with Hashem. It is not a matter of collecting plastic chips for future use. The relationship is real and it exists in the here and now.

The Ramchal proves the point with the stones of Yaakov. If Mitzvos were mere chips, stones would reap no benefit by assisting the Tzaddik. The stones are attracted to the Tzaddik because he is "sanctified with God's sanctity" in this life, right here on earth. 

Unable to experience the presence of the Shechina, the Tzaddik is himself unaware of the Kedusha within him. As much as we think we can sense Kedusha and identify Tzaddikim, that is just wishful thinking. Only Hashem can make that judgement (cf. Rambam, Laws of Teshuva 3:2). We are oblivious to the Kedusha that is all around us. Yaakov said as much upon awaking after a night on the rocks. "Hashem is actually present in this place and I didn't know!" (Bereishis 28:16).

Despite the Tzaddik's ignorance, he sanctifies the world. Sadly, the opposite is also true. When we opt out of a relationship with Hashem and distance ourselves from Him, we drag the world down with us. 

This is the Ramchal's point and it is no tangent. It is central to our understanding of the power of mitzvos and the ultimate purpose of human life, the subject of chapter one.

Last Tuesday, Hashem selected four Tzaddikim for all the world to see. They brought Kedusha into the world - בקרובי אקדש - and now that Kedusha is lacking. 

The very stones of Jerusalem mourn their loss.

ה' ינקם דמם

Everything Depends On... One Drop of Ink

It is rare indeed that so much depends on so little, but that is exactly what happens in an obscure line in chapter one. The fate of life on earth literally turns on the tiniest drop of ink, and to make matters worse, we're not even sure if the ink exists at all.

Allow me to explain. Here is the line in question, as it appears in most editions:

אלא בריאתו של האדם למצבו בעולם הבא היא, ועל כן ניתנה בו נשמה זאת, כי לה ראוי לעבוד ובה יוכל האדם לקבל השכר במקומו ובזמנו, שלא יהיה דבר נמאס אל נשמתו בעולם הזה אלא אדרבא נאהב ונחמד ממנה, וזה פשוט

The Hebrew is admittedly awkward, but it can't mean anything other than what Feldheim's translation says it means: "Therefore, the creation of man is wholly linked to his place in the world-to-come, and for this purpose he was given this soul; he will serve the Eternal for its [the soul's] sake, and through it he will receive his reward at the appropriate place and time. In this manner, instead of his soul despising this world, it will love and desire it. This is self-evident."

We need to appreciate the significance of this line. Luzzatto had just quoted a Midrash which compared the state of our souls in this world to a princess who marries one of the town's folk. This man will never be able to make her happy, for she comes from a different world. So too, Luzzatto writes, "The Neshama does not love this world at all; on the contrary, it despises it!" But now, in the concluding sentence of this depressing paragraph, we are told that there a way out of this sad state of affairs. If we work, if we serve God, we can make her happy. Our Neshama is not doomed to despise this world! 

This news comes as a great relief and it also allows us to understand a well-known but difficult biblical expression. 

You shall place these words of mine on your hearts and on your souls. Tie them as a sign on your arms and they shall be an ornament between your eyes. Teach it to your children so they will talk about it when they are sitting at home, traveling on the road, when they lie down and when they get up. Write it on the doorposts of your homes and your gates. In order that your days and the days of your children will be increased on the ground that Hashem promised to give to your forefathers, כימי השמים על הארץ, like the days of heaven on earth.

"Like the days of heaven on earth." What does that mean? In light of what we have learned, it means exactly what it says. If you do the Mitzvos... no, that's not right. If you immerse yourself in Mitzvos; if you fill your heart and mind with Torah, if you bind it to arm and head, write it on the doorposts, and talk about it day and night, at home and on the road, then your soul will experience life on earth - in the Holy Land - with the very same bliss that it experienced when it was in heaven. Heavenly days, on earth!

If only it were so. Unfortunately, the Machon Ofek edition provides us with a different, and apparently more accurate, version of this sentence. It is a miniscule correction, erasing the tiniest slice of a letter and changing a ב into a כ, but it at once saves the sentence grammatically and restores the soul to its uncomfortable status quo. Look at it now:

ועל כן ניתנה בו נשמה זאת, כי לה ראוי לעבוד ובה יוכל האדם לקבל השכר במקומו ובזמנו, שלא יהיה דבר נמאס אל נשמתו כעולם הזה אלא אדרבא נאהב ונחמד ממנה

Here is their translation: "Therefore, this soul was placed within him, for it befits the soul to serve [God], and with it man will be able to receive reward in the appropriate place and in the appropriate time, for [the world-to-come] is not something despicable to his soul as this world, but to the contrary, it is loved and desired by it."

So much for the "self-evident" happiness in the here and now.

[The Feldheim translation given above is from their new translation of Mesilas Yesharim (2004). While they did update the Hebrew text and change the ב which appeared in their older edition into a כ, they failed to appreciate how that transforms the meaning of the sentence.] 

The post might have ended here, but I am dissatisfied with Machon Ofek's translation of their own corrected text. I would argue, and those who can read Hebrew would surely agree, that the good Machon's usually competent translators fudged this sentence. Here is what it really says:

"This is why this Neshama was placed within him, for it is worthwhile to work for her, and through her man will be able to receive reward in the appropriate place and in the appropriate time. This is in order that [the reward] won't be something despised by his soul like this world is, but to the contrary, [the reward in the next world will be] loved and desired by it more than [this world]."

I know it sounds strange, but that it what it says. If we can suppress our objections for a moment and just listen to the words objectively (always a good idea when reading Luzzatto), we are faced with frightening implications. Reward in the next world is not necessarily blissful. If we fail to "work for the soul," the experience of our eternal reward in the next world will be "despised."

No, this cannot be right, you say. Reward is reward and bliss is bliss. Right?

Wrong. The next world can hurt. Not just Gehenom, but Heaven too. Allow me to quote none other than Luzzatto himself, just a few chapters on:

If it is so difficult for people to be ranked below others in the imaginary and deceptive ranks [of this world]... how will they tolerate seeing themselves lower than people whom they currently consider their inferiors? And this in the place of true rank and eternal honor! Even though they currently don't recognize it nor appreciate its value and consequentially they ignore it, when the time comes they will certainly recognize its reality to their sorrow and shame. This will undoubtedly be a source of great and everlasting grief.  (Chap. 4; translation based on Machon Ofek)

Luzzatto is not speaking here of Gehenom. Earlier in the same chapter he cites the Gemora in Baba Basra (75a), "Everyone is burned by their friend's Chuppah." Luzzatto explained that this refers not to base jealousy, but to the pain of seeing someone else achieve a level of fulfillment that you know that you are yourself capable of. This kind of pain can be experienced in Heaven too.

This is what Luzzatto is saying in our corrected sentence. Work for your soul, or else expect to suffer the same very same disappointments in the next world that you experience in the here and now.  

Misunderstood & Unpopular

The great classics of Jewish literature are owned by many and read by few. Often it’s because the original is in Arabic and the medieval Hebrew translations are equally unreadable. Sometimes the philosophical terminology is the killer. In the Mesilas Yesharim’s case, the reason is different. The book just turns people off.

The introduction is great; a fresh and ever-relevant indictment of our educational priorities. But then, halfway through chapter one, our author speaks of lofty ideals and loses his readers. Trying to suppress the thought that Luzzatto is hopelessly naïve, we close the book and give it new home on the bookcase – the top shelf. Thousands upon thousands of Mesilas Yesharims are thus doomed to spend the decades untouched and unread, trapped between a crumbling Kuzari and an inscrutable Morah Nevuchim.

It’s an unfair treatment of the Jewish “Common Sense” and it doesn’t have to be this way. I believe chapter one is simply being misread. Read correctly, it’s not depressing; it’s inspiring. But for chapter one to have the intended effect we have to learn to read it right.

Chapter one describes the world in unapologetic, absolute terms: The only good thing in life is closeness to God and everything else is utter nonsense; to pursue our natural desires is to abandon God; every situation in life is a divine test; the purpose of life is solely for earning a portion in the next world; our souls hate living in this physical realm, etc., etc. With statements such as these, it is easy to understand why so many copies are collecting dust. Readers naturally assume that this is a book for the pious Tzaddikim of yesteryear and has little to offer ordinary folk – but they could not be more wrong. If, instead of closing the book, they had read on to chapter two they would have quickly recognized their error, for the truth is quite the opposite: Luzzatto expects his readership to be at the very bottom of the spiritual ladder. To speak plainly, he actually expects many of them to be low-lives. 

So why all the ultra-frum statements of chapter one?

The answer is that Luzzatto is not talking here about lifestyle; he is talking about faith. The Torah is founded on certain principles which define the ultimate purpose of life and before we can embark on our journey of spiritual growth we must understand these principles and get clarity on where we are headed. This is what Luzzatto is doing in chapter one: defining the destination.

R. Pinchas ben Yoir taught us that everything begins with Torah – "Torah leads to Zehirus" – but strangely enough, Luzzatto doesn’t seem to spend much time explaining what that means or how it happens. Maybe it is self-evident. Or maybe Luzzatto actually does address it – in chapter one. Torah leads to Zehirus because fixing and elevating our Jewish selves begins with understanding the Torah’s basic teachings about the purpose and meaning of our lives.  (Heard from my student Talia S.; cf. the beginning of chapter four and this post.)

As we stand at the beginning of the book and the beginning of our journey, there is obviously no expectation that our behavior is already in accord with the Torah’s demanding value system. This is not a book for Tzaddikim; it's a guide for how to become a Tzaddik. (That is, chapters 1-13. See the beginning of chapter fourteen and this post.) But before we can embark on becoming a Tzaddik, we first must have clarity on what we believe.

In the first part of Mesilas Yesharim, Luzzatto addresses not the Tzaddik but the everyman, and he starts at the very beginning, educating us about the ultimate purpose of our lives. This is not מוסר; this is אמונה. There is no cause for discouragement nor is there cause to abandon the book before it begins.

(A Jew should be a man of faith, but not a theologian. Despite our belief in the sublime reward for Mitzvos, the Mishnah instructs us to not to think about it. "Do not serve the Master for the purpose of receiving reward" (Avos 1:3). The powerful and fundamental principles of faith - from belief in an Infinite Being to the World to Come to Mashiach - serve as foundations for our lives in the here and now. Foundations are critical, but it is unnecessary and unhealthy to obsess over them. This is what our author is telling us in the opening line of chapter one: "The foundation of Chassidus and the root of divine service is to know..." Faith is a foundation and a root. It keeps us standing tall, so build it deep and solid. And then keep it underground.)
 

Viewed this way, chapter one is transformed from a disheartening screed into an inspirational declaration of faith. It informs us about the extraordinary potential of our lives, it gives direction to our spiritual striving, and it instructs us to settle for nothing less than the presence of God Himself. And one more thing – it also motivates us to keep on reading!

The Process of Teshuva

One of the difficulties of trying to improve one’s self during the Aseres Yemai Teshuva is the overwhelming enormity of the task. We try certain things, accept upon ourselves certain chumros (like not eating Pas Palter) in an attempt to do enough good deeds to merit inscription in the Book of Life. But it is truly daunting. I mean, we know we will be basically the same people a few months from now. What is the point of it all? Why accept chumros that will disappear as soon as Yom Kippur is over? How is this useful for the process of Teshuva? How am I supposed to perfect myself with small, incremental changes?

The answer, I think, lies in the definition of what Teshuva really is. The Ramchal, way back in Chapter One of Mesillas Yesharim, writes:

Behold, our Sages have taught us that Man was created only to find delight in G-d, and to benefit from the radiance of the Divine Presence…. And if you were to investigate further into this matter, you would see that true perfection is only through attaching (D’veikus) one’s self with G-d.

The point of our existence is to become close to G-d. When we sin, we move away from G-d. We do Teshuva to move ourselves back in the right direction. In Physics, there is a concept of a vector, which is a force that moves in a specific direction. Teshuva, then, is really a spiritual vector: it is a force of spiritual growth moving in a direction back towards G-d, where we should be going. When the Navi admonishes the Jewish people to repent, he says “Shuva Yisrael ad Hashem Elokecha” – return to G-d. Move in G-d’s direction until you get to Him.

There’s an old aphorism that states “The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step”. During the Aseres Yemai Teshuva, we accept upon ourselves certain stringencies or new kabolos to serve as an impetus or catalyst to do Teshuva. These actions are supposed to reorient our spiritual direction and get the ball rolling so that the inertia of Teshuva will take over and we can move along with it. The first act of Teshuva is creating an about-face to push us in the right direction. It doesn’t matter whether or not we keep doing these things after Yom Kippur. Of course, there is certainly more to Teshuva then just a redirection (see Rambam); it’s not just plugging an address into your GPS. But it does matter that we stay focused on where we should be going. If we lose sight of what we were put here for, than no amount of chumros or Al Chets will help us with our ultimate mission of becoming closer to G-d.

Foundations and Roots

Thank you Reb Yisroel for inviting me to contribute to this blog. I had the distinct privelige to learn from Rabbi Noah Weinberg his unique approach to Mesilas Yesharim. I have attempted over the past years to understand and integrate this as well as share this treasure with others.

To even consider commenting on the Mesilas Yesharim is quite daunting since this work is so complex and profound.

Clarity. That is the definitive approach to life that the Ramchal emplores each of us. If we are to take Torah and life seriously then we must, we are obligated, to know what it is that we are living for. The very first line of the first chapter lays out this mandate.

After reading the remarks that the Vilna Gaon is supposed to have said regarding the non-superfluous nature of the Ramchal's writing, this opening line seems quite redundant.

"The foundation of piety and the root of perfection is to clarify and make true to a person what his obligation in the world is and to what he needs to place all of his goals and aspirations towards in all that he toils with all the days of his life."

One could easily equate foundation with roots, clarify with making true, and goals with aspirations. Simply stated; the foundation for perfection is to know clearly what you are living for.

However in this one actually concise (albeit run-on) sentence the Ramchal encapsulates the level of clarity regarding our life's purpose that he is directing us towards.

A foundation is that which one builds upon whereas a root is something which provides nourishment for growth. The foundation is strong and firm yet stagnant. The root is something which while not strong enough to stand upon is vibrant enough to break through cement.

These two elements are combined with the sequence of doubles; a foundation comes from clarity of goals, roots are the result of making this real within us and turning it into a passion. The Ramchal is instructing us to first and foremost have a clear understanding of what our life's purpose is; not simply a cliche or a nice sounding lofty ideal but rather a thought out unshakable conviction combined with real "concrete" goals. However that is not sufficient. If we truly wish to live then we must take this deep intellectual understanding to a whole new level. We must make it true, make it real. It must be something which is alive. We must translate our outlooks into passions, something we are driven by.

Bein Adam Lechaveiro- Dveikus or Ahava?

I have just started mesilas yesharim with a long distance chavrusa and am struck by a question. The message of Chapter One that a person's motivation should be to achieve dveikus and that should lead him to fulfilling mitzvos with great care to achieve the desired dveikus leads me to wonder if there is a difference in this between mitzvos between a person and Hashem and mitzvos between a person and his fellow man. I am ok with someone keeping Shabbos with great care in order to achieve dveikus. But if I am greeted with warmth by someone who has just studied the first chapter of Mesilas Yesharim and his greeting was motivated by the desire to achieve dveikus by fulfilling the rabbinic dictum to greet his fellow, I somehow feel better about the warm hello that I get from someone who has never heard of Rav Moshe Chaim Luzzato and is just a loving person.
Does the Mesilas Yesharim want my mitzvos vis a vis my fellow man to be motivated by the desire to achieve dveikus or by my love of my fellow man?

The Purpose of Life

Although he called it "The Author's Introduction," we have already seen that that was more an indictment than an introduction. There the author implored his readers to take Mussar seriously. But here, in chapter one, Luzzatto raises the stakes.

Life has a single purpose and that is to gain an intimate relationship with Hashem. "D'veikus." The primary location for this relationship is in the next world - but the only way to get there is through the mitzvos performed in this world. The higher the quality of the mitzvos and the more we break down the barriers of physicality and materialism that separate us from Hashem, the more we will succeed in fulfilling life's purpose.

Achieving this goal obviously requires training and that is where this guidebook comes in. The study of Mussar has now become the only way to make life meaningful.

But is d'veikus attainable in this world? If yes, why does Luzzatto emphasize the world to come?