ARE YOU A LIVING TORAH?

I remember my first roller coaster ride as though it were yesterday. I was seven years old at Six Flags Great Adventure, on a ride called “the American Scream Machine.” I was there with my bunk from Camp Gan Israel. My heart was pounding as the coaster slowly started its climb to the top. When it hit the top, there was a momentary pause; the sun beat down on us as we waited. Suddenly, the cars jerked into motion while rapidly gaining speed. We were hovering over a long, steep drop above a lake. I gripped the shoulder harness as we plunged into a free-fall, and all I heard was terrible screaming. I feared the cars would jolt off the tracks. But instead of screaming incoherently, I gathered all my powers of belief and shouted a colossal Shema Yisrael!

“Shema Yisra'el Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad!” “Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our G-d, the Lord alone!”

During the entire ride, I found myself repeating again and again the six words of the Shema. On the roller coaster, I was a “Jew by propulsion.”

Now, I wonder about that reflex, that immediate, intuitive turn to the Shema in my panic on the roller coaster. Throughout our history, Jews have repeatedly recited the Shema at moments of crisis and moments of celebration. Why the Shema? Why do we choose it for comfort and inspiration above all other verses in the vast Jewish liturgy?

There are 5,845 verses in the Torah. But only one verse -- the Shema -- is chosen by our tradition to be recited -- as a mitzvah -- twice daily, every evening and morning.

Shema is the first verse we teach children. And traditionally, it is the last words recited by a Jew on his deathbed. Many Jews who died for their faith bravely died with those words on their lips.

Not everyone knows, but the words of the Shema are written on the parchment in the mezuzah on the doorpost of the Jewish home, and it is written on the parchment inside the boxes of tefillin, as the Torah itself has instructed us to do.

The Shema is the only verse which, according to Jewish tradition, must be recited with full concentration. If one says Shema without being mindful, then one has not fulfilled the mitzvah.

Of only one verse is it written that one must recite it so that it is audible to oneself -- the ear must hear the sound of the lips.  

Why such a pervasive and persistent reiteration of the Shema?

Because it is the foundation of Jewish faith, it expresses the deepest elements of Jewish spirituality.

Shema means not only “to hear,” but to focus, pay attention, understand, and internalize that there is one G-d. When we say the Shema, we reject the idea that there is no G-d and that the world is a product of random chance. We also reject the idea of a pantheon of gods, a belief held by many ancient cultures, which created hordes of deities that simply resembled more powerful human beings.

To understand “G-d is One” - “Hashem Echad” is to know that the universe exists, and we exist, because One G-d, Author of all, brought us into existence with purpose and love, and therefore our lives have ultimate meaning.

During the dark times of Communism in the Soviet Union, a teacher was proving to her class that G-d does not exist. “Do you see that tree?" she asked, pointing out the window. "Yes,” the students replied, "We see the tree." 

“That is because the tree exists,” the teacher said. "Do you see the grass?" she continued. "Yes," the students answered.

"That is because it exists. Do you see the sky?" "Yes."
“That is because it exists. Do you see G-d up there?" the teacher asked. "No," the students answered, “We don’t see God."

"That’s because,” the teacher concluded, “God does not exist!"

At that moment, a little Jewish girl stood up and said: “I’d just like to ask the class: do you see the teacher’s eyes?"

"Yeah, we see the teacher’s eyes," the class replied.

The little girl continued: “That is because she has them. Do you see the teacher’s arms?” “Yes,” the class answers. “That is because they exist,” says the little girl. “Do you see her brain?" “No,” they answer.
“That is because it doesn’t exist!”

You can choose to live your life where the only thing that is real is what you detect with your senses. But if you think about it, the deepest things in life, the most valuable things, can’t be touched or seen by the naked eye. Can you touch meaning, or happiness, or holiness, or love? Or friendship or integrity, trust or compassion? These are the things that bring fulfillment and enduring joy to our lives. These things are just as real as the things we see, only more deeply hidden.

You know what you can touch and taste? Chocolate cake. You know what you can’t? Hope for a better tomorrow. Would you want to give up on your life?

When you can’t see something, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. It often means it exists on a much deeper level. The truest essence of reality is not that which meets the eye. This is why the Shema is always recited while covering our eyes with our hands. This is to teach us not to be distracted by what we see. Judaism teaches us to focus on the inner dimension, the soul, not the facade; on character, not flash; on ethics, not power; on the inner reality, not the mask of the outside world. You see, there are two kinds of culture. You have the visual culture, the culture of the tangible. And then you have a culture of sound – A Shema culture, a culture where the invisible is more powerful than the visible.

Most civilizations have been visual cultures. From the earliest pagans who saw the gods in the sun and storms, and worshipped what their eyes beheld, to the ancient Greeks who excelled in art, architecture, sculpture, and the theatre – the visual arts.

Today’s secular culture is the ultimate visual culture, dominated by television, video, the computer screen, the iPad, iPhone, and YouTube.

Even the phone that used to be for listening is out of fashion. The antenna doesn’t work, you can’t speak, you can’t listen, you can’t communicate, there is no “Shema”  but you can take videos on both sides of the Phone and download apps that make frog noises.

Judaism, by contrast, with its belief in the invisible G-d who transcends the universe, is supremely a civilization of the ear, of listening to the deeper reality. Hearing represents a depth of understanding of what can’t be seen.

Hence, the key verb in Judaism is Shema, “Hear”. It’s a call to move beyond the external aspect of reality and to hear and internalize a deeper G-dly truth and the yearnings of your soul.

No, what does a visual culture produce?

It produces art, paintings, architecture, sculpture, and theatre. In Judaism, where's the architecture? Where is the art? Where's the theatre?

There isn't any. The most famous piece of Jewish architecture for the past 2000 years has been one broken wall. It’s holy but broken. And we call it the “Wailing Wall”. You see, you must listen to it. And for theater we’ve got, “Fiddler on the Roof.” Put this all together and we have half of a wall, a roof, and a fiddler. Not even a Kosher Sukkah!

And look how this idea affects our language. In English, almost all our words for understanding or intellect are governed by the metaphor of sight. We speak of insight, hindsight, foresight, and vision. We speak of people making an observation. When we understand something, we say, “I see.” You know the word “video” comes from the Latin word “Idea”. The “v” is a soft consonant that gets dropped. An idea is something you see. Greek culture is a sight-oriented culture.

Judaism, by contrast, is the paradigm of an auditory culture in which the primary act is not seeing but listening. The Babylonian Talmud consistently uses the metaphor of hearing. When a proof is about to be brought, it says, “Come and hear.” When it speaks of implication, it says, “Shema mina”, “Hear from this.” When someone disagrees with a proposition, it says “Lo shemiyah leih,” “He could not hear it.” When it draws an inference, it says, “Mashma. “From this, it can be heard.” In Western culture, understanding is a form of seeing. In Judaism, it is a form of listening.

This is fascinating because it shows us that Judaism is a culture not of the eye but of the ear, of deep listening and understanding. This goes into the very texture of biblical narrative.

Let me ask you a question. Could you please list occasions where clothes play a central role in the book of Genesis?

There are at least five episodes in the book of Bereishit.

In Judaism, it's not what you see that tells you the truth. It is what you hear. If you rely on sight, you'll get it wrong. If only Isaac had listened to Jacob’s voice instead of using his senses of smell, touch, and taste, he would have gotten the right answer. He states, “The voice is the voice of Jacob,” but then he ignores his instincts.

Shema Yisroel, all Jews have gathered to hear our souls’ call. Our soul is telling us, “It is time to shift the focus. It is time to allow the invisible to ascend over the visible in our minds and hearts.

The Tzemach Tzedek, the third Chabad Rebbe, who lived in the 19th century, had a student, Reb Yankel, who was a wealthy businessman. Reb Yankel’s work took him to foreign capitals and the business centers in the largest cities of Russia and Paris.

While conducting business, Yankel would not wear his traditional Chassidic garb, the long black coat and Chassidic hat. No way. He would dress in finely tailored, meticulously crafted “Versace” suits. However, when he would visit the Tzemach Tzedek in the city of Lubavitch, he would completely change his attire and look like a nice Chassid.  As time went by, Yankel became increasingly uncomfortable with his hypocritical behavior. He told himself, “If I dress in chic fashion all year round, I should have the guts to dress this way in front of my Rebbe as well.”

And so, the next time he visited the Rebbe, he strolled in wearing his business suit and said, “Rebbe, I have a confession to make. In the past, when I’d come here dressed in traditional garb, it wasn’t quite honest on my part. After I’d leave you, I’d right away change into my modern clothes. So, I felt that it was wrong of me to come here and put on a show, pretending that this is who I am and how I dress.”

The Tzemach Tzedek smiled and said, “Reb Yankel, do you think that I didn’t know that when you left this place, you changed your clothes? I’ve known that all along. But the way I see it is that when you are dressed like a Chassid, that is a reflection of your true self; whereas this other attire is the masquerade, the show that you put on all year round for the sake of the world you find yourself in. Now, you’re telling me that this get-up is the real you and the other is the masquerade!”

“But, my dear Reb Yankel, it’s not so. It doesn’t matter what clothes you wear in Paris. Fashionable clothing is fine. What matters is who you truly are. What is your life about? And I know that when you are here, studying Torah, refining your character, growing spiritually, this is the real you. It’s not a masquerade.”

What Reb Yankel realized from that moment on was that he existed on two levels, and that this was fine. On the surface, to the world of visual culture, he was a sophisticated and successful businessman. But on a deeper level, he was a spiritual and committed Jew, and the two need not conflict. The next time he straightened his bowtie in Paris, he knew he was still a Chassid.

Friends, we need to raise children who will be our living Torah scrolls.

Decide that this year will be a year of Shma Israel. You can say these holy words every night with your children as you tuck them into bed, and in the morning when you rise. Each day, let us shut out, at least for a moment, the world of sight, so that we can more fully appreciate G-d’s world. Let us use this Shavuot to dedicate ourselves to cultivating the deeper realities of our soul—the realities that give us the courage to live Jewishly.

Let us join our Shma to a four-thousand-year-old chorus, made up of the voices of all the Jews who said these words. Some said Shma in Egypt; others, as they faced suffering in Gaza; some even said it in the concentration camps. They are words sanctified by tears of our ancestors, but now we can say them amid freedom and on rollercoasters.

Let us celebrate and rededicate our Jewishness in this blessed land of freedom.

Let us join our voices to that momentous four-thousand-year-old chorus whose power and holiness have carried us till this day. Friends, let us recite the Shema in unison, together with one heart, as one people, who believe in one G-d.

Shabbat Shalom and a Happy Shavuot,

Rabbi Yoseph Geisinsky