Celebrate the Journey
By Michael Karlin
President
Mythic Imagination Institute
The Torah, the first five books of Moses, is read each week in synagogues around the
world on the Sabbath in an annual cycle that begins and ends with the holiday of Simchat
Torah, the Rejoicing of Torah. In contrast to the more solemn and introspective holidays of
Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur that begin the month-long series of Jewish High Holy Days,
Simchat Torah is a day of pure joy, revelry and celebration. As this holiday is quickly
approaching (October 25), we have just completed one of the final weekly portions, entitled
Netzavim, or Standing. This portion takes place on the last day of Moses' life. He has spent
five weeks recounting to the people their history and their moral and spiritual obligations. At
the end of that very long and detailed discourse, with the entire people gathered before him,
on the last day of his 120 year life, with one of his final breaths, he tells the people "It [the Torah]
is not in Heaven" (Deuteronomy 30:12). The Bible is not in Heaven. It seems a very odd and
cryptic statement. What could it mean?
There is a tremendous story from the Talmud, the Jewish oral tradition of laws and stories,
that tells of an argument that took place in the Academy of Yavneh in the 1st century CE.
Achnai the oven maker brought a newly invented oven before the assembly of Rabbis at the Academy.
The elder statesman of the academy, Rabbi Eliezar, deemed the oven pure. His colleagues on
the other hand, dissented with his opinion and overruled him. Rabbi Eliezer offered countless
detailed and well-substantiated proofs of his opinion, but the other Rabbis rejected them all in turn.
Finally, in frustration, Rabbi Eliezer produced a miracle to prove his point. He declared,
"Let the carob tree prove it," and with that, the earth rumbled and shuddered, and the carob
tree in the yard exploded into the air like a rocket.
"The carob tree cannot prove it," retorted the assembly of Rabbis.
Frustrated still and now angry, Rabbi Eliezer bellowed, "If I am right, let the river prove it!"
With that, the river began to flow backwards!
Undeterred, his colleagues merely replied, "The river cannot prove it."
Totally enraged, Rabbi Eliezer shouted to the walls of the Academy, commanding them to
fall in on the gathered assembly of Rabbis. At this, Rabbi Joshua stood up and declared to the
walls, "When Rabbis are in debate, what right do you have to interfere?" And out of deference
to both, the walls leaned in a bit, but did not collapse.
Now, completely frustrated and exhausted, Rabbi Eliezer finally cried out to God and
said, "If I am right, let it be proved by Heaven!" At that point there was a thunderous rumble and
a heavenly voice boomed, "Why do you dispute Rabbi Eliezer? With this, as with all things,
Rabbi Eliezer is right."
Rabbi Joshua stood and said, "It [the Torah] is not in Heaven!"
Rabbi Yerimiah explained, "The Torah was already given on Mt. Sinai. Therefore we pay
no attention to a Heavenly voice."
Purportedly, at this point God laughed with joy, exclaiming, "My children have defeated Me!
My children have defeated Me!"
"It is not in Heaven." These are profound words spoken on the last day of Moses' life. The
stories, the myths, are not in Heaven, they are here on Earth. As Joseph Campbell so eloquently
conveyed in his work and life, you must go beyond the literacy of the stories and find the song in
them. Make them sing. These are not stories about events that occurred in ancient times, these
are stories that are happening every day to each one of us. When we relegate the stories to
history, we imprison them in the past, and we lose their song.
There are no easy answers to life. No easy ways out that you can buy on an infomercial or
take in a pill. The stories are not concrete dictates sent to us from Heaven in final form, simple
solutions to life's complexities, injustices, and paradoxes. They are here for us to struggle with,
embrace, and make our own. The journey is a difficult one, but the rewards are great.
There is a story that says that God confided in the angels his plans to create humans in the
Divine image. The angels were angry and afraid. They said, "If creatures as evil and as selfish
as humans are created in the Divine image then they will think like God thinks, create like God
creates, feel what God feels, grasp eternity and live forever. We cannot let this happen!"
They decided to steal the Divine Image and hide it where humans would never find it. But
where? One angel suggested they hide it atop the highest mountain, but then another said,
"One day they will climb to the tops of the highest mountains, and they will find it."
Another angel offered, "Let's hide it at the bottom of the deepest sea!" But they objected
saying, "Humans will explore the depths of the sea, and one day they will find it."
Each angel had a suggestion that in turn was rejected by the rest until the smartest most
creative angel finally offered a solution. "Let's hide it where they will never look for it. Let's hide
it within their own hearts and souls. They will never go look for it there." To that all of the angels
were in agreement, and they hid the Divine image within the heart and soul of each man and
woman, and that is where it is hidden to this day.
Within each of us, there is holiness, a calling, an authentic purpose. As the angels correctly
surmised, most of us do not want to go looking for our Divine image in our heart or in our soul.
It is dangerous, painful, and difficult. You must face your own demons instead of projecting them
on to others. You must risk being different than the pack. You must risk being wrong. The angels
were very wise, for we have climbed the highest mountains and plumbed the depths of the sea,
but most of us are afraid to explore the terrain of our own hearts.
Viewed metaphorically, myths and stories are road maps to exploring the paths of life. Every
hero goes into the abyss. Every heroine faces threshold guardians. We can use these stories as
sustenance and guides in our own quests to discover our Divine image.
In the final chapter of the Torah, Moses dies. He is on the border of the holy land, but he will
never make it in. He knows this grim fact before he dies; his life-long struggle to reach the
Promised Land will end with him just short of that goal. He can see the land flowing with milk
and honey, but he cannot have it. Yet, as this final chapter is completed in synagogues, and
the scrolls of the Torah are rolled all the way back to the beginning to begin anew with Genesis,
we are told to sing, and dance, and celebrate wildly. The whole holiday is a celebration of the
Torah, of the journey, not the destination. Moses never reached his destination, and we dance
and revel just the same. It was on the journey that he attained enlightenment. May you dance,
sing, and celebrate along your journey to discover the Divine within you.
See you in June.
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