Dear Friends,
I am delighted to share with you the following remarks which WRT Rabbinic Intern Rachel Steiner will offer from our bimah tonight at 7:45 PM. Rachel is on track for ordination from the Hebrew Union College - Jewish Institute of Religion in New York this coming May and has worked as a vital part of the WRT clergy team for the past four years. I hope that you will come this evening to support Rachel and to hear her deliver this powerful address.
Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Jonathan Blake
Rachel Shafran Steiner
WRT Rabbinic Intern
February 12, 2010
Mishpatim 5770
“Building latrines.” This was the answer to the question, “What are you going to be doing in Senegal?” that I was asked repeatedly before my trip with the American Jewish World Service Rabbinical Student Delegation last summer. I would then emphasize that I was going to build latrines because it was hard to believe that I had chosen this activity for my summer trip. I was part of a group of 24 rabbinical students from across the denominational spectrum that was going to Senegal to learn about hunger, poverty, sanitation, and our Jewish responsibility to be engaged in social justice work. The work we did in Senegal would be similar to work that AJWS has been doing in places like Haiti for over a decade. I had no idea how one went about building latrines or how 24 rabbinical students would succeed at such a task, but I was up for the challenge and certain that the experience would broaden my worldview, push me outside of my comfort zone, and connect me with a group of colleagues who were also committed to engaging in serious social justice work. I was right.
In the days leading up to the trip I was busy with packing and blissfully unable to wrap my head around the upcoming experience. In the abstract I knew what to expect, but the lasting impact was not real yet. In a way I was ignorant, but not because of laziness or apathy. I cared deeply about this work. But I only knew about social justice and global work from my vantage point here, in the New York area, where I am clothed in privilege and security.
Looking back, I found a new appreciation for Adam and Eve when they lived in the Garden of Eden before Eve plucked that piece of the forbidden fruit that grew on the tree in the center of the garden. The serpent, we know, told Eve that eating the fruit would not kill her, as God had warned, but that it would cause her to open her eyes and share in the divine ability to distinguish between good and bad. It was then, when Eve saw that the tree was a source of wisdom, that she and Adam bit into the fruit. It was then that they felt their blissful ignorance disappear. They saw their nakedness. For me this moment began when I disembarked from the plane in Senegal and continued in full force for the days, weeks and months that followed. Our tradition and my experience then confirmed this truth: ignorance is, in fact, bliss.
This is one of our beloved and oft-used idioms. “Ignorance is bliss,” we say wistfully. This phrase comes from the last stanza of a poem by Thomas Gray written in 1742.
To each his sufferings: all are men,
Condemn'd alike to groan—
The tender for another's pain,
Th' unfeeling for his own.
Yet, ah! why should they know their fate,
Since sorrow never comes too late,
And happiness too swiftly flies?
Thought would destroy their Paradise.
No more;—where ignorance is bliss,
'Tis folly to be wise.
Like much of Gray’s poetry, this is a lyrical lament of the loss of innocence. Gray reflects on his student days and longs for that simplicity. Even more, he underscores the complexity of knowing.
Perhaps Adam and Eve were happier before they saw their nakedness, before they became self-aware and had to leave the Garden of Eden. Perhaps my life was simpler when I believed my biggest challenge would be to learn how to build a latrine. Perhaps we can look back in hindsight at certain situations and know that our ignorance offered us something that resembles shelter. But ignorance surely is not bliss. We know in our kishkes that Judaism does not support this philosophy and we know in the collection of English idioms that the opposite must be true. Ignorance is not bliss. Knowledge is power!
To be fair, the phrase “knowledge is power” is not originally English. Francis Bacon said it first in Latin in 1597 and the literal translation is, “for also knowledge itself is power.” But I believe it is fair to claim that this idiom is now beloved and frequently used in the English language. Moreover, Judaism is all about learning and using knowledge as power for improving our lives and the lives of those around us. Scholars of Bacon’s work have searched for his inspiration for this truth. One of the sources is Proverbs 24:5, “A wise person has power, and a person of knowledge increases strength.” Here again is the underlying Jewish belief that insists that knowledge is power.
While in Senegal, we spent most of our days in two rural villages. The kinds of places you see on TV, actually. Families live in huts made out of mud, wood and whatever else they can find. Nice dwellings have tin ceilings. The water is thoroughly undrinkable by our standards, the children have flies in their faces, and their clothing is worn but alive with bright colors and beautiful patterns. People die from things we treat with over-the-counter medication and proper sanitation. Also, it turns out, we rabbinical types are not trained latrine builders. Fortunately we were great at moving bricks and shoveling the sand and cement needed to mix the mortar to construct the latrines. This physical work, however, was not what kept me awake at night in my mosquito net. I was accumulating more knowledge than I imagined I would encounter but I felt totally disempowered. I could not understand how I was going to return home and do anything constructive enough to make a difference in the lives of the men, women or children I met.
On my last afternoon in the village a woman with a child on her back came over to where I was sitting. She was trying to ask me for something but we did not speak the same language. She was pointing to her baby, her forehead and also into her mouth. Finally I understood. Her daughter was sick. She had a fever. Did we have any aspirin to give her to bring down her daughter’s fever? I had nothing for her but even if I had some, it was our group’s policy not to give in that way on this trip. I had no idea if that little girl was going to survive or if that fever would kill her. But I did know that I was starting to question our idiom, knowledge is power. These were moments that I longed for the bliss of ignorance.
Perhaps, then, both idioms have truth but neither alone expresses the whole truth. It is easier to be unaffected by the world around us, blissfully ignorant. But ignorance is only bliss in hindsight. And, as Jews, we are not actually permitted to remain ignorant. We pursue knowledge. We know that knowledge is power. But we also acknowledge that knowledge can sometimes be a burden. Though it might be easier to remain inactive and unaware, that is not what it means to be a Jew. We accept the yoke that comes along with knowing when we accept the yoke of the sovereignty of Heaven, ol malchut shamayim. Accepting the burden and the power that comes with knowledge is intrinsically part of what it means to be a Jew. We are obligated to pursue knowledge so that we can use the power that accompanies it to work for justice. Francis Bacon also followed this line of reasoning when he further taught, “if we do not maintain justice, justice will not maintain us.”
Another word for justice is Mishpatim which is the name of this week’s Torah portion. Parashat Mishpatim pushes us on just this issue. We meet the Israelites right after receiving the Ten Commandments. What is one of the first things that God chooses to teach? It is not building the Tabernacle. It is not kashrut. Instead, this parasha deals with the way we treat those around us – our colleagues, our parents, our friends, and the stranger, the poor, the orphan and the widow who live in our midst. Why this first? Because human suffering must not escape our attention.
Reflecting on his experience in India, author Rodger Kamenetz writes, “If Jews are responsible for relieving the suffering of the world, knowing the size of the task is critical. I felt how much I ignore, how often I redefine the world as my world, and suffering as the suffering of the Jews.” We are taught immediately in parashat Mishpatim to care for the poor, the widow and the orphan because we might not otherwise want or feel compelled to do so. Not because we are naturally evil but because it is easier to see only what immediately surrounds us and to care for our immediate needs. But this is not what Jews do. That is why we learn about caring for others right after we meet God at Sinai. We need a push to move away from ignorance toward the power, and burden, of knowledge.
It is amazing how much power we all have to make a difference. Here are just some of the things that would make a significant difference in the lives of the Senegalese I met:
- mosquito nets to help minimize the number of people infected with malaria,
- support for organizations like Green Senegal which is using the drip irrigation system created by Israel to help turn the deserts of Senegal into fertile land [see photo],
- the introduction of a waste removal facility so that there is some place to collect the black plastic bags that cannot disintegrate and that litter the otherwise natural landscape,
- accessible trained professionals with basic medical supplies,
- access to elementary education that does not require a mile of walking back and forth on hot, parasite-filled sand,
- careful attention to the imports and exports of products in places like Senegal with attention to what might help grow their economy,
- access to cleaner water,
- more latrines,
- more food,
- and training in skills that are necessary to succeed in today’s economy.
These are just some of the ways we can make a difference. We cannot solve all of these challenges but we can use our knowledge as power – in the way we spend money, the organizations we support, and the stories we tell. I heard innumerable stories that screamed of inspiration and perseverance. I sat with women who welcomed me into their homes even though we could not communicate with any shared language. I peeled vegetables, I danced to unfamiliar music and rhythms, and I played with children whose faces I cannot seem to forget. I was inspired daily by a genuine love of life and courage to use creativity to overcome enormous obstacles.
Knowledge is power; it is a burden; and it is also a privilege. This is true for us as individuals but also for us as a community. These are our shared burdens and our shared responsibilities. Fortunately we also have each other to problem-solve creatively. Imagination and creativity inspired many of the programs that are making a difference. The Senegalese I met have an inspiring outlook – they laugh and sing and seem to enjoy what they can.
Francis Bacon explicates this aspect of human nature, too. “Imagination was given to man to compensate him for what he is not; a sense of humor to console him for what he is.” Humor is an outlet for release and imagination is a tool for making change. Albert Einstein said it differently, “Imagination is more important than knowledge.” Imagination is the next step. Imagination enables us to use our knowledge, burdensome though it may be, to bring about change.
Thank goodness Eve ate that piece of forbidden fruit. Thanks to Adam and Eve we are now able acquire wisdom on our own, to emulate God each time we make the distinction between bad and good. Imagine a world that does not require the instructions in parashat Mishpatim but rather benefits from our own wise use of our power. May each of us seek and find the knowledge and imagination to take our places as God’s partners in creating a world of justice, security, and peace.
Shabbat Shalom.
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