When Power Meets Faith

An 80-year-old Jewish man goes to the doctor for a check-up. The doctor is amazed at what good shape the guy is in and asks, "How do you stay in such great physical condition?"

I am Jewish, and I am a golfer," says the old guy, "and that's why I'm in such good shape. I’m up well before daylight and out golfing up and down the fairways. Afterwards, I have a glass of schnapps, and all is well.

"Well," says the doctor, "I’m sure that helps, but there’s got to be more to it. Something in the genes. How old was your father when he died?"

"Who said my father is dead?" The doctor is amazed. "You mean you're 80 years old, and your father is still alive? How old is he?"

"He’s 99 years old," says the old man. "In fact, he golfed with me this morning; then we went to the beach for a walk, had a little schnapps, and that’s why he's still alive. He's Jewish and he’s a golfer, too."

"Well," the doctor says, "that’s great, but I’m sure there’s more to it than that. How about your father's father--your grandfather? How old was he when he died?"

"Who said my Zaydeh's dead?" the old man replies.

Stunned, the doctor asks, "You mean you're 80 years old and your grandfather is still living!? Incredible, how old is he?"

“He's 1118 years old," the old golfer says.

The doctor is becoming frustrated at this point: “So, I guess he went golfing with you this morning, too?"

"No, he couldn’t go because he's going to get married today."

At this point, the doctor is close to losing it. "Getting married!! Why on earth would an 118-year-old guy want to get married!?"

And the grandson responds: "Who said he wanted to? His mother forced him!” 

Our Torah portion, Emor, contains one of the most challenging laws in the Torah: a Kohen, a priest with certain physical blemishes, could not perform the service in the Holy Temple. 
He remained fully holy, shared in the sacred offerings, and retained every privilege of priesthood, but he could not serve at the altar.
At first glance, this feels deeply unsettling.

The Torah was the first voice in history to proclaim the absolute dignity of every human being. It teaches that every person is created in the image of G-d, regardless of appearance, 
strength, health, or physical condition. Jewish law makes no distinction between the value of a strong man and the value of a bedridden invalid. Every life is infinitely sacred.
So why would the Torah disqualify a blemished Kohen from Temple service?

Last year, we explored one answer. This year, let us examine a powerful insight from Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch—an insight that confronts one of the most persistent myths of modern times.

Religion Is for the Weak?
Rabbi Hirsch lived in 19th-century Germany. One of his famous contemporaries was another German-born Jew who was baptized as a child and later became one of religion’s fiercest critics: Karl Marx.

Marx famously wrote: “Religion is the opium of the people.” What did he mean?
Religion, he argued, is for the broken. For the defeated. For those too weak to face reality.

If life crushes you, turn to G-d.
If suffering overwhelms you, invent heaven.
If you cannot solve your problems, create a prayer.
If science confuses you, hide in faith.

Religion, in this view, is not truth; it is anesthesia.

Many still believe this today.

Faith is portrayed as emotional dependence.
Prayer as insecurity.
Torah as primitive nostalgia.
Belief as intellectual surrender.

Strong people build. Weak people pray.

That is the myth.

The Torah’s Astonishing Answer
Rabbi Hirsch says this mitzvah comes to shatter that illusion.

The altar of G-d is not for the symbolically weak, collapsed, frightened, or defeated.

It is for the whole, the vigorous, the dignified, the strong.

In his words, the sanctuary was not built so that broken humanity could crawl there seeking pity. It stands for life in its fullest power and beauty.

Judaism does not see faith as a retreat from life.

It sees faith as the highest form of engagement with life.

Not blindness, but vision.
Not superstition, but depth.
Not fear, but courage.
Not escape, but responsibility.
Not weakness, but strength.

Science Did Not Bury G-d
Many assume that science replaced faith. But often, the opposite is true.
The more deeply one studies creation, the harder it becomes to dismiss wonder.

Study the human cell.
Study DNA coding.
Study the precision of planetary motion.
Study the balance of ecosystems.
Study consciousness.
Study memory.
Study light.
Study time.

Every answer opens ten new questions.

Maimonides wrote nearly a thousand years ago:

When a person reflects on the greatness of creation and sees the wisdom within it, he is moved to love and stand in awe of G-d.

Science does not eliminate mystery. It magnifies it.
The Rebbe and Gordon Zacks
The late Gordon Zacks, a major American Jewish leader, once met the Lubavitcher Rebbe in 1969.

The Rebbe asked him for one hundred million dollars for Jewish education. Zacks declined.  

Then the Rebbe asked: “Do you believe in revelation?” 
Zacks answered: “I believe in G-d. I believe He inspires. But I do not believe He writes.”
The Rebbe then began asking question after question.

Who taught the seed to grow?
Who taught the body to heal?
Who taught bees to organize?
Who taught birds to migrate?
Who taught the Earth to sustain life?

Everything in creation seems to know its mission.

The ant knows how to build.
The bee knows how to pollinate.
The stars move in order.
The lungs know how to breathe.

And then there is one creature utterly confused: Man.
The Rebbe asked: “Is the human being the only creation given no roadmap?”
The Torah, he said, is not a burden. It is the manual for being human.

A Smaller Life
Can a person live without G-d? Certainly.
A person can live believing existence is accidental, morality is invented, consciousness is chemistry, and purpose is self-created.

One can survive that way. But it is a smaller life.
You can live without music. But life is poorer.
You can live without love. But life is emptier.
You can live without poetry. But life is flatter.
You can live without faith. But life is narrower.
Without G-d, the sunrise is heat. With G-d, it is wonder.
Without G-d, the heartbeat is mechanical. With G-d, it is a miracle.
Without G-d, the soul is biology. With G-d, it is eternity.
Who Really Has More Faith?
Many say belief requires blind faith. But perhaps disbelief does. Which takes more faith:
To believe that a universe of staggering order, mathematical precision, consciousness, morality, beauty, and life emerged from nothing, for no reason, or to believe it carries meaning?
To say everything is random may require greater faith than to say it is purposeful.

Why the Kohen Had to Be Whole
Now the symbolism becomes clear.   

The Kohen represented Divine service before the nation.

He had to reflect vitality, dignity, confidence, wholeness, and strength. To teach Israel:
We do not come to G-d because we are pathetic.
We do not keep Torah because we are scared.
We do not pray because we cannot think.

We choose G-d because we want to think deeply.
We choose Torah because we want to live greatly.
We choose mitzvos because we want life charged with holiness.

A Message to Our Generation
Many Jews today feel embarrassed by faith.

They are taught that religion is outdated, prayer is irrational, and holiness is for the unsophisticated.

Do not believe it. It takes no courage to drift with culture. It takes courage to stand for the truth.
It takes no depth to mock holiness. It takes depth to seek it.
It takes no greatness to worship yourself. 

It takes greatness to serve something higher than yourself.

Faith Is for the Strong
Faith is for minds brave enough to ask ultimate questions.
Faith is for hearts large enough to feel wonder.
Faith is for souls strong enough to live with discipline.
Faith is for people courageous enough to kneel before truth.

The weak run from responsibility. The strong stand before G-d.
A life without G-d may be possible.

But a life with G-d is larger, deeper, richer, holier, and infinitely more alive.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Yoseph Geisinsky