Nitzavim-Vayelech
Deuteronomy 29:9-31:30
Isaiah 61:10-63:9, 55:6-56:8
When the British government was considering building the chunnel to connect England with the Continent, the budget office advertised for bids for the work. One bid, submitted by Cohen and O’Brian Ltd., was so extraordinarily low that a government representative was dispatched to the firm’s less-than-magnificent building in one of London’s poorer neighborhoods to see if the firm could do the work for the modest sum claimed.
When asked if they could build a tunnel of such magnitude for such a small sum, Cohen replied, “Sure we can.”
“But how can you afford to buy the equipment and hire the workers for so little money?”
“What workers, what equipment? All we need is two shovels.”
Taken aback by this response, the government man asked, “How can you dig such a huge tunnel with just two shovels?”
O’Brian answered: “It’s simple. I’ll stand here and start digging; Cohen will stand on the Continent and start digging. When we meet you’ll have your tunnel.”
“But what happens if you never meet?” the government man insisted.
Cohen replied, “Well, then, you’ll have two tunnels!”
The humor of this story provides one of the most important questions Jews can ask themselves at the beginning of this new year: What happens if we never meet?
Conflict in the Jewish community dates back to the Bible. Cain and Abel, Ishmael and Isaac, Jacob and Esau, Joseph and his siblings — all endured hostility and estrangement. Ancient Israel’s monarchy ruptured into the Southern Kingdom of Judea and the Northern Kingdom of Israel. The Second Temple-era Saducees and Pharisees fought over the forms and places of worship. The talmudic academies of Sura and Pumbedita vied for pre-eminence in Babylon for more than five centuries.
Indeed, conflict frequently defines Jewish life: Sephardim and Ashkenazim, Litvacks and Galitizianas and the Reform, secular and Orthodox conflict of today. The assassination of Yitzhak Rabin by a Jewish fanatic is the epitome of the extremism now evidenced in modern Israel. In general, only during periods of national calamity — temple destructions, inquisitions and pogroms — did Jews experience reprieve from internal discord. However, an anecdote illustrates the possibility of extending such periods of respite:
A rabbi’s severest opponent, armed with powerful arguments, full of absolute certainties, burst into his home, ready for a confrontation. The rabbi raised his hand and uttered one Hebrew word: Efshar, which simply means “perhaps.” He said, “Efshar — perhaps you are right and I am wrong, or efshar — perhaps you are wrong and I am right.” With that the two men embraced and fell into earnest conversation.
In spite of a long history of enmity that built walls between Jews, Jewish tradition also has deep appreciation of pluralism. The question is asked in the Mishnah (Eduyot 1:4) about the value of recording the minority opinions of Hillel and Shammai, two rabbinic scholars who were frequently on opposite sides of an argument. Nevertheless, they carefully reported minority views “to teach future generations that none should unswervingly persist in his opinion, for even the greatest rabbinic masters were at times uncertain.”
At times, even Hillel and Shammai were able to compromise. For example, a mezuzah is placed at a 45-degree angle because Shammai favored the horizontal position while Hillel favored the vertical position. They resolved their conflict by meeting in the middle.
Rabbinic Judaism highlighted the importance of considering opposing opinions by noting that at Sinai, Moses — whose final words to the people Israel are in this week’s Torah portion — was shown 49 possible ways that each law could be forbidden or permitted.
Twenty centuries ago, Hillel spoke words that have puzzled Jews for two millennia: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? But if I am only for myself, what am I?”
Hillel recognized the tension between self-interest and self-sacrifice, between being selfish and unselfish, obsequious and supercilious, humble and haughty. It is a delicate balance embodied in a long-forgotten blessing that once was regularly utilized by sages upon addressing a Jewish audience: “Blessed is He who discerns secrets, for the mind of each is different from the other, as the face of each is different from the other” (Berachot 58a). May this blessing serve as our New Year compass.