In the movie Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, there is a scene where Robin comes to a youth taking aim at the archery target and asks him, “Can you shoot amid distractions?” And just before the boy releases the string, Robin pokes his ear with the feathers of an arrow. The boy’s shot flies way over the target.
After the laughter of those watching dies down somewhat, Maid Marian, Robin Hood’s major love interest (!) leans beside him and says “Can you?” Always one to accept the challenge, Robin Hood takes aim and just before he is about to let the arrow fly, Marian flirtatiously blows in his ear. The arrow misses the target, glances off a tree and just about hits a bystander.
Distractions come in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes we know what we are supposed to do and yet are too involved in something else to get to where we need to be. Sometimes our distractions are healthy. There are those times when what we are doing becomes almost a trance and we lose all track of time. This is sometimes called a “groove” and when we have no place to be late for, it is a wonderful state to be in if you’re doing something constructive.
Then, there is the distraction that is a real pain to deal with. This is the distraction that takes you away from your obligations and responsibilities. This is not always a healthy distraction. Still, it seems to be something of an inherited trait of we Jews. It even has a name: Jewish standard time!
Jewish standard time may be something of a popular joke but what happens when there is something really, really important that needs to get done at a certain time and you realize it when it’s just about too late?
For example, in our Torah portion this Shabbat, we are instructed to say the Sh’ma, the six words that every Jew knows by heart and that serve as the heart of our monotheistic faith. The rabbis developed the daily timetable for the recitation of the Sh’ma and its accompanying paragraphs. It should not present too much of a problem but what happens when JST, Jewish Standard Time, kicks in? The Talmud wrestled with exactly that question.
Though the Talmud probably did not call it Jewish Standard Time, it actually has a discussion about what happens when Jews are late for doing something that has a set time to it. Specifically, what happens when the time for saying the Sh’ma rolls around and the Jew who is supposed to say the Sh’ma at that particular time of the day is distracted, or as the Talmud presents it, is taking a bath in the river, and then realizes that it is time to say the Sh’ma.
Well, many of us would probably say “Just say the Sh’ma and be done with it.” Well, things aren’t as easy as that. You see, when we pray, our hearts and minds must be directed toward heaven and in order to enter that frame of mind, we must be dressed. In the mind of the rabbis, it is far too distracting to pray the liturgy while taking a bath in the river while worrying who will see you in your birthday suit, whether or not robbers will take your clothes, the temperature of the water, and so forth. There are also issues of modesty that enter the equation. So what do you do if you’re taking your bath and it is time to say the morning prayers?
The Rabbis teach in the Talmud that a man should cover himself with the water and use the water as a “garment” and then, being fully clothed, could then say the Sh’ma. But as with most things Talmudic, there is a dissenting opinion.
Another rabbi teaches that the person should muddy the waters with his foot so that he is not distracted by his own nakedness.
“But is he not still naked?” the first rabbi wants to know.
Abaye and Rava, two brilliant rabbis who often disagreed, now enter the discussion. They agree that the man is still naked. That is obvious but Abaye says that he must get out and cover himself up and then pray. He must not even look at his own skin while praying! Rava, on the other hand, responds to Abaye and quotes a most interesting verse that you probably know: “it is not in the heavens.”
What an odd response. What did he mean by it?
He meant simply this: only the angels could live up to the stringencies that Abaye put upon the man in the river. How is it possible for him not to even look at his skin? Rava is saying, “Yes, it may be the ideal, it may be virtuous but it is practically impossible for people to not be aware of their bodies even during the holiest moments. Where Abaye preaches the legality of the recitation of the Sh’ma and that it has to be done in literally the right place and right frame of mind, not to mention fully clothed and dry (!), Rava knows about human limitations and accepts them.
It is an important distinction, isn’t it? The real discussion they are having, although it is couched in terms of when to say the Sh’ma, is how much can we really expect from ourselves all the time? The law is lenient because Torah does not expect the impossible from any of us. There are times when we have to say the Sh’ma up to our necks in water.
Unfortunately we sometimes take the idiom and it becomes our operating principle. When we feel overwhelmed or simply don’t want to undertake our obligations, we hide behind the idiom that God is lenient. As Milton Steinberg, a famously practical man and devout rabbi once said, “We plead humanity when we mean laziness, forgetfulness or indifference.”
You will notice that Rava allows us to say the Sh’ma even though we are up to our necks, literally and figuratively, with other things. But you will also notice that we are still obligated to fulfill what is required of us. Inconvenience is not an acceptable Jewish excuse for indecision or inaction. And yet, we are often stymied by the enormity of our challenges and the demands made upon us by our Jewish faith, our own families and our attention to taking care of ourselves, let alone of so much else. To put it in terms of Rava and Abaye, how do we live a life of holiness and pay attention to what it means to live Jewishly when we are up to our necks with other, sometimes more pressing, things? Although there is no magic solution, the Sh’ma itself offers some insights into entering and living a life of holiness.
Listen to the words of the Sh’ma:
“Listen, O Israel. Adonai is our Elohay, Adonai alone.”
I have translated it a little differently because each word is more complex than we might think.
The first word starts us off on our journey toward holiness. “Sh’ma” – Listen. No one can accomplish any great thing without first watching, practicing, visualizing and centering. It is simply impossible. Sure there are prodigies of various things. Some people are natural athletes or musicians. Lots of people have natural talent but no one, not even the greatest artist of any kind, can succeed without pausing, focusing and listening.
It was said that when one of the Leonardo de Vinci, arguably one of history’s finest artists, was painting ‘The Last Supper’ in the little Church of Santa Maria del le Grazie in Milan, he spent a good deal of time looking like he was doing nothing. The monks who were paying him were more than a little bit annoyed as he was looking like he was getting paid but doing nothing. For a time, nobody said anything. But it got so bad that, one day, the monks sent a delegation to de Vinci and complained that the church was not getting its money’s worth. Leonardo heard them out, and then made them understand when he said simply: “When I pause the longest, I make the most telling strokes with my brush.”
We can not expect to do great things without taking the time to listen. To say the Sh’ma to focus on our obligations as Jews we must first listen. We can listen to the prayers. We can listen to the soul. We can listen to the study of the rabbis. We can listen to beat of our hearts. But no matter what we listen to, it means that even though we don’t have to stop what we are doing — just as the man in the river had to stop bathing at the time of the morning Sh’ma — we have to understand that every moment can be made holy. And that’s true even when we are up to our necks with our own worries.
As you recall, Rava won the argument in the Talmud. The more lenient position became Jewish law as it almost always does. But remember, too, that it is a double-edged sword. At no time did Rava suggest that we were somehow not bound to our covenant with God. And a covenant is always a two-way street. So what happens when reality conflicts with the ideal? For that answer, once again, let us look at the Sh’ma and this time, identify the names of God.
Why is God called by both names, Adonai and Elohim? Why not just say “Listen up Israel, God is God,” and that’s it? The rabbis ask the same question. They tell us that the two names for God in the Sh’ma is to tell us two of the most significant characteristics of God. Adonai refers to God’s mercy. Elohim, to His justice. In other words, God demands, we succeed, God is pleased. God demands, we try and fail, God forgives.
In his book called For Those Who Can’t Believe, Rabbi Harold Schulweis puts it this way. Elohim stands for the way things are. Elohim is in the law of: “If you let go of an apple, it will drop because the law of gravity works that way. If an earthquake occurs, buildings may be destroyed because that’s how the laws of physics operate. Likewise, the Elohim part of God says that if you break a law, punishment will probably follow.
But Adonai is not the God of what is but the God ought to be. A contemporary rabbi put it wonderfully when he said, “Elohim prescribes punishment, while Adonai teaches transformation. Elohim creates the world and all its dangers. Adonai inspires human beings to overcome those dangers. Elohim brings an earthquake or a hurricane. Adonai brings rescuers who risk their lives to save the victims and give their own possessions to help the unfortunate cope. Elohim is about facts, while Adonai is about faith.”
The Elohim of our lives is that part of God that makes demands upon us. It is the Elohim of the mitzvot and the consequences when we ignore what is demanded of us. But the Adonai is the part of God we appeal to when we have tried but failed and when the world overwhelms us and we respond in ways that do not make us or God proud. It is, in other words, the God of forgiveness. And if we did not have that, who among us could stand before Him?
You see the Shma has become the cornerstone of our faith because it is the Shma in the way Rava read it and not Abaye for it is the Shma that tells of Godís demands but also of Godís forgiveness. But we must never forget the challenge that is implied with that forgiveness and that is that while many exercises in holiness and fulfillment of the mitzvot take tremendous effort, the effort to perfect God’s world is one in which we must always be active participants.
It is like the story of the prince who welcomes his enemy warmly and graciously into his palace. After the visit his incredulous aide asks him: “O Prince, I do not understand. That man is your mortal enemy. Yet you treat him with forgiveness and kindness. If I were in your position, I would destroy him.” At this, the king responded, “You don’t understand. I do destroy my enemies, when I convert them into friends.”
Rabbotai, those things that call us and take our attention every day overwhelming us with demands, with phone calls, with faxes, with crying babies, angry teenagers, road rage and air rage and junk mail and junk food are the rivers that sometimes threaten to drown us. But life and the stuff of life is not our enemy. We must remember the argument between Abaye and Rava: holiness can be found when those moments we think are without God are converted into moments full of God. And to do that, let us simply remember to “Shma” – listen and know that Adonai Eloheinu – the God which makes demands is also the God who is merciful. To know that is to respond to the challenge of holy living. But the challenge of making our moments holy opens our eyes to the beauty that lies there, too. And that, my friends, is worth grasping. May God’s presence this Shabbat and all Shabbats, this day and all days, be with us so that we may have a lifetime of holy moments.
From <https://americanrabbi.com/challenges-of-the-shma-by-cy-stanway/>
