Hassagot השגות

You created a world with words

You created a world with words

עולם במילים בראת

עולם בראת במילים

במילים עולם בראת

במילים בראת עולם

בראת במילים עולם

בראת עולם במילים

The Rabbi Who Could Not Speak

Once there was a rabbi who could not speak.

For many years, he spoke.  When  he spoke, he wove verses and teachings from Midrash and Talmud, from commentator and thinker, and from his own creative insights.  His congregation enjoyed his sermons and his teaching.  After a sermon, those who had not been present would ask, "what did the rabbi say today?"  His congregants would respond, "the rabbi gave a powerful sermon," but would be unable to recall what he had spoken about.

After some time, the rabbi became ill.  Although he soon recovered, his illness rendered him a mute. 

On the first Shabbat after his return from the hospital, the rabbi came earlier to synagogue on Friday evening than had been his wont.  He sat in his chair, awaiting a minyan.  As men entered the prayer room, they instinctively approached him quietly.  He held out his hand to shake theirs, looked deeply in their eyes with an expression full of affection and care, and shook their hands warmly.

On Shabbos morning, the rabbi again came early to the synagogue.   Congregants again approached him and he shook their hands.  After the Torah was returned to the ark, he stood up to the lectern as he always had.  A rustle spread through the synagogue:  What was the rabbi doing?  He could not speak!  The rabbi looked around at the men and women of his congregation with eyes full of love.  After a moment, he returned to his seat and the service continued.  The rabbi's silence and the caring and inquiring look in his eyes made a deep impression on his congregants.  Each one felt that he had spoken to him or her.  Each one felt called to better things by his look.  Each heard in his silence a personal message that stayed with him or her.

From that point on, the rabbi stood up each Shabbat, each holiday, each Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.  He stood up at weddings and at funerals.  He stood up for a minute, for to, for five.

In the past, when congregants came to the rabbi for advice, they sought the wisdom of his words.  Now they came for the wisdom of his silence and of his searching eyes.  Husband and wife who experienced conflict with each other or difficulties with their children came to him.  Young people who felt unsure of their futures came to him.  Business partners would bring their disagreements to him.  His silence allowed these people to give voice to their concerns and his eyes called on them to seek the best in themselves and in each other.  More sought his silent counsel than had sought his speaking counsel.

It is said that, at the end of his career, a student compiled his teachings from the testimony of his congregation.  It was published in Hebrew and in English and became popular among rabbi and lay person alike.

What are "Kabin Neki'im/Small Portions"?

Kabin Neiki'im (Small Portions) is a distinctive feature of Hassagot.  Posts in this category are short parables that reflect themes on my mind.  Sometimes they are connected to events in the news; usually they are not.

Small Portions: The guardians were told to cover their ears

In those days, the city came under occasional attack.  Small people threw projectiles at the walls.  When throwing these projectiles, they recited words in a certain tongue.  Sometimes, citizens were struck.

Each time news of attacks spread, the people became unsettled.  In an effort to allay their concern, the king and courtiers instructed the people to ignore the projectiles and those who threw them.  

Those who spoke of the attacks and the attackers were punished.   Those who possessed objects like the projectiles were searched.    The guardians of the city were expressly instructed to cover their ears so as not to hear the words in that certain tongue. 

In this way, with each projectile, the people of the city became less comfortable and less safe. 

They came with axes

They came with axes to the great mountain.  In fact, the mountain was not great.  The mountain was a humble one in a far-off land.  Few had seen a picture of the mountain and fewer had visited it.  However, they decided that, if only they could tear down the mountain, then all would be able to see with full clarity the light that lay beyond.

It took them some years to prepare to tear down the mountain.  First, they developed a new alloy for their axes.  The axes were made by master smiths, who sharpened them for use with the hardest stone.   When the strongest workmen had gathered at the base of the mountain, they found their work to be easy-going.   In fact, with a few blows the mountain turned to dust and collapsed.

They were delighted at their work of destruction.  They came with specimen jars and removed portions of dust from the mountain.  They arranged the jars in special orders and wrote learned tomes about the composition of each.

At the top of the mountain had dwelt a small tribe.  When the strong workmen began swinging their axes against the mountain, the tribe felt the earth shake under their feet.  Some fell this way, some that.    They tried to reunite but found it very hard to do so.

Surprisingly, the mountain was not lost.  Despite the axes, despite the specimen jars and tomes, the mountain still stands.  The strong workmen can not see the mountain, imagining instead that they see only the bright light from the other side.   Yet, there it stands!  Some members of the tribe have rebuilt their home on it.

Note: Some say that the mountain is actually a book.

-- H. A. Massig המשיג

Those who did not touch the ground

Once a people sought a place to live. They came to a certain valley and were told, "you may live here so long as your feet do not touch the ground." It was on this condition that they were allowed to live in that place.

Having no other place to live, the people agreed to the condition. They learned how to stay above the ground and made houses for themselves that did not touch the ground. There work was in the air.  

Despite the strict limitation upon touching the ground, the people prospered and flourished. As time went on, the other peoples began to resent their success and hate them. The other peoples said, "you are too close to the ground." Try as they might, the people of the land could not rise any higher. They were told, "Your feet must be removed." Without their feet, they found it easier to satisfy the new condition. But the other peoples were not long satisfied. In the course of time, the people of the land lost their calves and their thighs as well as their feet.

Golden River

    A golden river flowed through the town.  The people delighted in the river's fresh water.  The water was sweet and bestowed health.  When one poured the water through a sieve, grains of precious gold gathered.  The townspeople had long been hearty and hard-working, and they labored happily to draw the water and sift it for its gold.  From this gold, they wove garments and made delightful implements.  Their town became known as a golden land.   

    As the years progressed, the people tired of drawing the water.  They hired other people to do the work for them.   They continued to wear garments of gold, but tired of their splendor.  Frequently, they yawned.

    It happened quickly.  People said, "The river has lost its gold."  In truth, the water still ran with gold, but with much less than before.  The townspeople continued to wear their golden garments and complained of their poverty.  In addition to yawning, they began to throw up their hands.

    The people worried.  They felt they must do something to address the thinning gold.  However, mostly they flailed their hands.   In this way, they sometimes hit each other unwittingly.  They pursued small savings but were afraid to consider large ones.   Their listlessness increased.

    Once, one said, "Things will go very badly."  The people nodded their heads in approval.

    One said, "Things may go well. "  The people continued to wave their hands and did not hear.

-- H. A. Massig המשיג

Timekeepers

    In those days, there were timekeepers.  They had watches, clocks, and chronometers of all kinds.  Some had hands and some displayed numbers.   At first, they were able to keep track of the day according to the sun or the moon.  Then, they learned how to keep track of the hours.  With passing generations, they devised ways to count minutes and seconds.  As their timekeeping progressed, they were no longer able to imagine years, days, hours, and minutes.  They could only grasp seconds and nanoseconds.

    There were others who could not keep time.  They were perpetually late or early.   They held on to the minutes, the hours, days, and years.

    The first group considered the second quaint.  You are not living in the present, they said.

--  H. A. Massig המשיג

Encountering speech

Many flocked to the man of many words.  He spoke with eloquence and his speech was coherent. 

Few flocked to the silent man.  He had nothing to teach.

Of these men, an ancient riddle was told:  He who speaks many words shares no wisdom and signifies only something.   The silent man conveys all wisdom.

-- H. A. Massig המשיג

The Old Man Sighed

The old man sighed.  In his generation, nothing more was said.
In the next generation, one said, "the old man sighed in pain."
In the third generation, one said, "the old man sighed in pain because of the sorrow of death."
One said, "Death comes into the world through the folly of man.  The old man thought on this and sighed."
Later, one said, "There is so much pain in the world.  The old man carved out a space in which compassion could grow.  His sigh carved out that space."
Yet another said, "In order to rid the world of pain, much work must be done.  This work entails much exertion.  Having done some of the work, one must express his exhaustion.  This is why the old man sighed, to teach that we, likewise, must sigh."
And so it was that, generation after generation, men reflected on the old man's sigh.  Their reflections grew into a many branched tree with bounteous leaves, ripe fruit, and copious shade for a weary traveler.

-- המשיג  H. Massig