The Secret Jew
Ira Goldberg was heading out of the synagogue on
Yom Kippur. As always, the rabbi was standing at the door shaking hands as the congregation departed.
The rabbi grabbed Ira by the hand and pulled him aside. “You need to join the Army of
G‑d!” he urged.
Ira replied, “I’m already in the Army of G‑d, Rabbi.”
Rabbi questioned, “How come I don’t see you in synagogue except for
Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur?
He whispered back, “I’m in the secret service.”
The First Levirate Marriage
This week’s
Parshah relates the story of
Judah, the fourth of
Jacob’s sons, entering into a marriage which brought forth three sons, Er, Onan and
Shelah.
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The oldest son, Er, married a woman named
Tamar,
but died prematurely without children. His bereft father, Judah,
suggested to his second son, Onan, “Consort with your brother’s wife and
enter into levirate marriage with her, and establish offspring for your
brother.”
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Here we are introduced for the first time to the concept of levirate marriage, discussed later in the book of
Deuteronomy:
“When brothers live together, and one of them dies childless, the
wife of the deceased man shall not marry outside to a strange man; her
brother-in-law shall come to her, and take her to himself as a wife, and
perform levirate marriage.
“The firstborn son whom she bears will then perpetuate the name of
the dead brother, so that his name will not be obliterated from
Israel.”
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One of the great biblical commentators,
Nachmanides, writes that this
mitzvah embodies “one of the great mysteries of the
Torah,” and that even before the Torah was given, people knew of the spiritual benefits of a levirate marriage.
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The biblical commentators explain that the child born of the union
between the brother of the dead man and his former wife—both of whom are
intimately connected with the deceased man—is considered the spiritual
son of the deceased.
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Moreover, the Kabbalists suggest that the firstborn child of the
levirate marriage is a reincarnation of the soul of its mother’s first
husband,
6 bringing the deceased man, as it were, back to life.
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Judah and Tamar
Who was the first human being to introduce this practice of levirate marriage? It was, according to the
Midrash,
8 Judah, who suggested to his son to marry his brother’s widow and perpetuate the legacy of the deceased brother.
The continuation of the story is both strange and tragic. Judah’s
second son also died prematurely without having any children. Now,
Nachmanides explains, during those early times prior to the giving of
the Torah, other relatives in addition to brothers used to carry out
this obligation of levirate marriages.
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Thus, following the death of both of Tamar’s husbands, she went and
lured her former-father-in-law, Judah, into a relationship with her
which impregnated her and brought forth twin brothers, Peretz and
Zerach. Peretz was the ancestor of
King David and the entire Davidic dynasty, including
Moshiach (the
Messiah), who according to the Jewish tradition will be a descendant of
David.
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Judah and Tamar ended up marrying each other, in fulfillment of this mitzvah of levirate marriages.
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Yet the interesting question is: what is the significance behind the
fact that Judah was the first to introduce the mitzvah of levirate
marriage? And why will
Moshiach,
the greatest leader of history, who will inspire the world to embrace a
life of goodness and holiness and usher in the messianic age, emerge
from an irregular levirate marriage?
Paving a Road in History’s Jungle
One of the significant things about the Judah-Tamar drama is the
place it is situated in the biblical text, interrupting the story of
Joseph’s sale to Egypt by his own brothers.
The Midrash
12 presents a moving insight into this biblical “interruption”:
“The sons of Jacob,” says the Midrash, “were engaged in selling
Joseph; Joseph was busy with his sackcloth and fasting; Jacob was taken
up with his sackcloth and fasting;
Reuben was engaged in his sackcloth and fasting; Judah was busy taking a wife.
“And G‑d? What was G‑d doing at that time?” asks the Midrash. “The
Holy One, blessed be He, was engaged in creating the light of Moshiach.”
(Peretz, born of Judah and Tamar, is the ancestor of King David and the
Messiah, as stated above.)
In other words, amidst the turmoil and politics pervading the small
Jewish tribe at the time—in the middle of Joseph being sold into
Egyptian slavery, the event which ultimately brought about the first
exile of the Jewish people, in Egypt—G‑d was planting within history the
seeds for the ultimate messianic redemption, by orchestrating a
relationship which brought forth to the world the seed of Moshiach.
This midrashic insight leads us to conclude that the strange levirate
relationship between Judah and Tamar was also part of G‑d’s paving the
road through the jungle of history for redemption and Moshiach.
What Is the Relevance?
To understand this, we must first explore the deeper meaning behind the mitzvah of levirate marriage.
Every mitzvah in Judaism contains a “body” and a “soul.”
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The body constitutes the tangible and physical act of the mitzvah,
while its soul embodies the psychological and spiritual meaning behind
the mitzvah. The body of a particular mitzvah may be inapplicable at
certain times, but the soul of a mitzvah remains timelessly relevant.
The same is true concerning the mitzvah of levirate marriage, known in Hebrew as
yibbum.
The body of this mitzvah, the physical union between a widow and her
brother-in-law, is impractical today. But the metaphysical counterpart
of this mitzvah, the symbolic marriage between a spiritual widow and a
spiritual brother-in-law, is as timely today as it was 3,500 years ago,
when Tamar married Judah. Perhaps even more.
Two Types of Emotions
In midrashic and Kabbalistic literature, “parents” symbolize
intellect and awareness, while “children” and “siblings” represent
emotions and feelings.
Therefore, when the Bible describes a situation of “brothers living
together,” it is also referring to two forms of human emotions,
represented by the two siblings.
The first category of emotions, symbolized by one of the “brothers,” is described in the
Kabbalah
as conscious emotions born from man’s awareness and cognition. These
are the emotions and feelings that we experience on a daily basis that
cover the entire spectrum of our lives.
The second and far more mysterious category of emotions, symbolized
by the second of the “brothers,” is described in Kabbalah as
super-conscious feelings, stemming from the primal formations of the
human psyche, transcending our conscious awareness and cognition.
The emotions experienced in our conscious personality often originate
within the super-conscious, but are contracted and filtered by our
brain prior to their emerging in our conscious heart. There is, however,
a much deeper and primal level in which each of us professes incredibly
profound, paradoxical and rich yearnings, cravings and experiences that
may never make their way to the fore of our conscious emotional
landscape.
So a situation of “brothers living together,” one of them marrying
and having children, metaphorically represents the healthy and
functional individual whose super-conscious emotions fuel and give birth
to his more structured conscious experiences and interactions. These in
turn allow this person to form relationships with people outside of
himself, represented by marriage, and together create fruits that can
impact the world and its future, represented by children and
grandchildren.
A Heart Dies
But sometimes a situation occurs “when brothers live together, and
one of them dies childless.” The Torah is referring to the death of the
conscious heart of man, describing the tragedy of a human being whose
blaze of love, inspiration, enthusiasm and caring has been extinguished.
In lieu of a vibrant, passionate, sparkling spirit who knows how to cry
and laugh, how to embrace and let go, this person turns into a numb and
frozen creature, paralyzed and shut off. The first “brother,” the
feelings and emotions that give life its twinkle and passion, is dead.
During such moments we often succumb to emptiness and despair, and
the first victims of our depression are those with whom we built
relationships. When our flow of inspiration dries up, we tend to
withdraw into a cocoon, isolating ourselves from the world, from our
loved ones and from ourselves. We feel depressed and “childless,”
unmotivated to have an impact that might outlast our physical lives.
Accessing the Higher Emotions
Comes the Torah and declares, “The wife of the deceased man shall not
marry outside to a strange man; her brother-in-law shall come to her,
and take her to himself as a wife, and perform levirate marriage.”
“The wife of the deceased man” alludes to the soul of the human being
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whose emotions (the first brother) have died. In such an instance, the
Torah instructs you not to sell your destiny to the devil of depression,
allowing for the death of your marriage and your dreams. Now that all
of your conscious passions are lost, it is time to call in the “second
brother”—your higher, super-conscious, infinite powers—to fill the shoes
of the first brother and perpetuate the relationships that the first
brother began.
What this means on a practical level is that when you are standing at
an emotional abyss, ready to fall into oblivion, you must know that
deeply embedded within your spirit lies an incredibly profound and
heroic spark. You may not be able to fully comprehend it, but if you
believe in it and embrace it, it will carry you through the times of
desolation.
The Lowest and Highest Moment
This is how one of the great masters of Jewish spirituality interpreted the heart-wrenching lament of the prophet
Amos: “She has fallen, the virgin of Israel, and will no longer rise.”
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On a literal level, this is the ultimate cry about the death of hope.
Amos is describing here a sense of absolute destruction and ruin, a
condition when you fall so low that you can never rise again.
But there is another way to look at these very words, says Rabbi
Schneur Zalman of Liadi. “After she has fallen she can no longer rise—for right now, in the depth of her abyss, she has reached the greatest heights.”
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Once you have truly fallen, you are capable of accessing the most
profound part of your soul, that super-conscious spark of infinity that
embodies the endless light of G‑d implanted within the human condition.
Until the fall, you rely on the more external dynamics of your
personality, since they are functioning nicely. But when these parts of
your identity go “out of commission,” you are compelled to dig deeper
and touch the depth of depths, the quantum level of your consciousness.
So, paradoxically, your lowest moment is essentially your highest moment.
And when you do embrace this level of self and allow it to emerge in
the time of crisis, “the firstborn son whom she bears will then
perpetuate the name of the dead brother, so that his name will not be
obliterated from Israel.” This means that as time goes on, you will
regain “the name of the dead brother.” In other words, your conscious
passions and emotions will be resurrected.
The Kabbalah of Jewish History
This perspective will grant us a psycho-historical understanding into the drama of Jewish history.
The prophets and the sages describe the Temple days, when the
presence of G‑d was far more manifest in the world, as a time of a
passionate and zestful marriage between G‑d and Israel. The Jewish
people either loved G‑d or they despised Him, but they could not be
indifferent to Him. They were in a creative and profound relationship
with each other; the reality of G‑d evoked a very tangible switch in the
Jewish psyche.
Then the marriage hit an extremely low point. The passion of Israel
toward G‑d faded into oblivion, and G‑d concealed His face from His
beloved bride. The “couple” separated. G‑d had His home in
Jerusalem—the center of the relationship—destroyed, and the Jewish people exiled, physically and mentally.
Since then, we have craved redemption and intimacy with G‑d, but our
yearnings have been denied. Instead of finding G‑d, we found evil and
darkness. Instead of encountering the divine, we encountered Auschwitz.
Instead of discovering peace, we discovered Arafat and Hamas.
So, here is the big question: How long can a couple remain separated
without getting divorced? Do we still profess a unique relationship with
G‑d? If we are not fully married to G‑d, why not just end it
completely, so that we can both be set “free”? What is the purpose of
hanging in limbo for 2,000 years, not really married, but neither truly
divorced?
Two Forms of Marriage
Ah! This is the perhaps the most important question of our history
and destiny. The way in which you answer this question defines what
being Jewish means to you.
The answer is: When our passion toward G‑d died, and the romantic
intimacy between us faded away, our regular marriage was supplanted by
the levirate marriage. In exile, we might no longer be married to G‑d
with our conscious emotions; yet we are bound to G‑d with our
super-conscious spirit.
The Lowest and Highest Point of Israel
Many Jews today feel very little—if any—full-fledged emotions toward
G‑d. He has been gone for too long to provoke within us conscious
passions. But if you would attempt to rob these “apathetic” Jews from
their super-conscious bond with G‑d, they would fight till their last
breath. If you were to demand from a Jew today to cease calling himself a
Jew, he would be perturbed to the core of his soul. Why? His conscious
heart may feel totally detached from G‑d, but on a deeper,
super-conscious level, he and G‑d are absolutely one.
Whatever the circumstances, he is in the “secret service” of G‑d’s army.
Thus, the prophet
Isaiah quotes the Jewish people as declaring the following words during exile times: “Though
Abraham may not know us, and Israel may not recognize us, You, G‑d, are our father.”
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What is Isaiah saying?
In Jewish mysticism, Abraham and Jacob (“Israel”) represent the
spiritual emotions of “love” and “compassion.” However, during the
physically and morally dark times of exile, many an average Jew is not
in touch with these spiritual experiences and feelings. We have become
estranged from Abraham and Jacob.
So, when all of our spiritual inspiration is lost, what are we left
with? When Abraham and Jacob are gone from our life, what remains?
“You are our father”! On a conscious level, we may feel absolutely
nothing; but beneath all of the layers there exists an intrinsic,
immutable bond between man and G‑d.
Amos’s abovementioned words about the time of Jewish destruction
resonate very deeply. “She has fallen, the virgin of Israel, and will no
longer rise.” Says Rabbi Schneur Zalman: “After she has fallen she can
no longer rise—for right now, in the depth of her abyss, she has reached
the greatest heights.” For it is precisely during the time of the fall
that the intimacy between G‑d and the Jew reaches its most profound
point.
The Road to Redemption
This is the deeper reason why it was Judah who was the first person
to engage in levirate marriage, and that the child born of this marriage
was Peretz. This child, we will recall, became the great-grandfather of
King David, from whose descendants will emerge Moshiach, the leader who
will usher in the messianic age.
The significance of this drama is that it is precisely the enduring
power of the “levirate marriage” that allows the Jew to keep his faith,
courage and dignity throughout the darkness of the exile, and through
which, with the coming of Moshiach, he can ultimately reclaim the
passion that faded away.
Therefore, Judah, the father of Moshiach, was chosen to teach us how
to remember that the deepest fall can contain the most profound heights.
Oy Chanukah!
This truth is also reflected in the festival of Chanukah, which coincides with the Torah reading of this Judah-Tamar story.
The
menorah (candelabrum) that was kindled in the Temple in Jerusalem contained only seven branches and lamps. Yet the
Chanukah menorah, which is kindled even during exile times, and only in commemoration of
the Temple menorah, contains eight branches and flames! If anything, it should have been the other way around.
Yet it all comes back to the same point. The number seven in Kabbalah
represents the structured seven days of the week, and the structured
seven emotions professed by each soul.
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The number eight, on the other hand, symbolizes the super-conscious
singular spark of the soul that transcends the structured and organized
components of the seven-branched psyche.
During the Temple days, the Jewish people accessed the seven
luminescent flames burning within their souls. Yet the heroism displayed
during the Chanukah period, at a time of horrific darkness and despair,
elicited from within the Jewish soul the eighth and super-conscious
dimension, that infinite and immutable divine dignity, that transcends
even the spiritual light pervading the Holy Temple.
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This deeper light is what sustained us through the darkest of nights, in our turbulent journey toward redemption.
