August 28, 2008
See this day I set before you a blessing and a curse: a blessing when you listen to the commandments of the Lord your God…and a curse if you do not listen to the commandments…. You shall give the blessing on Mount Gerizim and the curse on Mount Eyval….” (Deut. 11:26-29)
The way to bring the exalted mountain within our grasp is to climb it.
What is the significance of the two high mountains surrounding Shechem (modern-day Nablus)?
The two majestic mountains symbolize the difficult climb the Israelites must take for them to even begin to fulfill their God-given mandate of becoming a holy nation and a kingdom of priest-teachers to the world. Indeed this is the third covenant we entered into with God just prior to our entry into the Land of Israel. In addition to the covenant at Sinai, the religious covenant of the Ten Commandments, and the 613 laws of our Torah, we have a mission to become a light unto the nations, at the very least to teach the seven universal laws of morality to all people. (Maimonides, “Laws of Kings” 10, 8).
Once the Israelites crossed over the Jordan River — at the place from which the Israelites first entered their land and the logical place at which representatives of the world would later enter and exit the Jewish land — they were commanded to set up large stones coated with plaster and to write upon them these laws of morality “in a very clear manner of explanation.” These stones would graphically demonstrate our message to the whole of human civilization.
Such a taxing and daunting universal task will seem less daunting when we consider the words of Dr. Martin Luther King who used the metaphor of the mountain in his great ‘I Have a Dream’ speech in 1963, “I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight….”
Essentially, the way to bring the exalted mountain within our grasp is to climb it, for each step of our ascent makes the mountain seem lower and lower.
In order for us to carry out our mission to the world, we must first become a holy nation. The Bible tells us that the blessing will come when we keep the commandments, in an immediate fashion. After all, “the reward of a commandment is the commandment itself.” If, God forbid, we do not listen to the commandments, retribution may not come immediately, but eventually evil bears its own destructive fruits.
The great hasidic sage Shpolle Zeide expressed this truth in a very memorable way. He told how, as a child, he would go to a shvitz (steam bath) with his father, who would pour freezing cold water upon him just as he began to perspire profusely. “Ooh,” he would inadvertently scream as the cold water contacted his burning hot flesh, but — after cooling down a bit — he would exclaim happily, “Aah.” “Remember, my child, the lesson of the ‘ooh’ and ‘aah,’” the Shpolle said he would hear from his father. “Before — and often even during — the commission of a transgression, you have physical enjoyment: aah. But afterward, when you ponder your sin and suffer its consequences — ooh! In the case of a mitzva, however, you might cry ‘ooh’ when you have to get up early for prayers or for a lesson of daf yomi, but in reflection of your religious accomplishment, you will always exclaim ‘aah’ afterward. Make sure you conclude your life with an ‘aah.’”
Two summers ago, Hizbulla militants were shooting Katyusha rockets into northern Israel, making the lives of its residents virtually impossible. Many inhabitants of the southern areas opened their hearts and homes to their embattled fellow citizens while our soldiers fought the enemy.
In Efrat, we opened our Neveh Shmuel High School dormitories, kitchen, and dining hall, and many families opened their homes to temporary refugees from Carmiel and Bar Yohai. These groups included Sephardi haredim and Russian immigrants, some of whom came with their Christian spouses. Almost miraculously, the spirit of one nation Israel conquered all differences, and everyone got along famously.
One of my neighbors, who hosted six individuals for six weeks, invited me and my wife to a Friday evening meal at their home cooked by their guests. Before the hostess lit Shabbat candles, the three women (one of whom was wearing a cross) asked if they could join in the kindling of the Shabbat lights; I ruled in the affirmative. That entire Shabbat I was certain that the Messiah would come — and I know that he made significant headway in his journey. In order to truly climb the mountain, we must all take the upward trudge, collectively, as one.
Shlomo Riskin is the chief rabbi of the city of Efrat and dean of Ohr Torah Institutes in Israel.
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