In today’s changing marketplace of products and ideas, we frequently come across the term “interactive.” Whether applied to computers, entertainment, or communications, the word signifies the dynamics of give and take that typify the most exciting new technologies.
By being engaged, by being actively involved, we tend to get more into, and more out of, every experience. Yet for many, history has been a “one-way” experience, limited to passive reading or, more recently, viewing and hearing events of the past. How exciting it would be if we could interact with history and become more involved with those who came before.
Last spring, Hillary Clinton’s attempts to communicate with Eleanor Roosevelt were the subject of speculation, questioning and even some amusement. As a student of Jewish tradition, I believe I understand what Hillary was trying to do.
The attempt to communicate with our predecessors — whatever the method — is, in truth, an attempt to gain a different perspective on our own lives and to derive inspiration from the lives of others, even if they are no longer with us.
In Jewish tradition, inviting guests — particularly those who are no longer with us — is an integral part of the Sukkot celebration. As we read: “Abraham, exalted guest, you are welcome here along with the other exalted guests, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Aaron and David. Sarah, exalted guest, you are welcome here along with the other exalted guests, Rebecca, Rachel, Leah, Miriam, Deborah and Ruth.”
The origin of the ushpizin ceremony, in which we extend to our ancestors an invitation to join us in our sukkah, can be found in the Zohar, a primary source of Jewish mystical tradition. We can learn a great deal from this ceremony — about ourselves, our heritage and our relationship to others. With a little imagination, we can “customize” our invitations and our guest list, in order to enhance the Sukkot experience and learn some additional lessons as well.
The ushpizin ceremony provides us with a valuable opportunity to renew an ancient ritual and engage in conversations with distinguished forebears. However, the practice is far from theoretical, extending well beyond greeting, welcoming and speaking with our ancestors. Indeed, the Zohar instructs us to “gladden the poor,” suggesting that any food prepared for our ancient guests must be given to the poor instead.
For the ushpizin ceremony to be truly meaningful, we must be willing to learn from our ancestral guests. Thus, when we encounter Abraham and Sarah and hear how they themselves welcomed guests, we must be prepared to apply those values to our own lives, in our own way. If we talk, but do not act (e.g., welcome our ancestral guests but fail to make the strangers in our midst feel truly comfortable), we have not fully realized the potential, and concomitant responsibilities, of interaction.
Through the ushpizin ceremony, our guests — who lived thousands of years ago — become real to us, as we invite them into our sukkah. Voices of the past continue to live with us, and in us, despite the passage of time.
A similar phenomenon occurs every time a Jew sits down to learn. The Jewish method of studying texts is marked by the constant use of the present tense. When we learn, we find that “Rambam says” or “Rashi explains,” as if they were sitting across the table from us. In tackling a difficult passage of Torah we are not alone, but are joined by voices from the past, speaking with us and to us.
Indeed, we are part of a distinguished group: a 20th-century student interpreting the writings of a 12th-century commentator who is himself elaborating on the positions of a third- century sage — all interacting, all “talking” with one another.
Remarkably, this exchange can be characterized as a “three-way” interaction. Not only are we influenced and shaped by such conversations, but we know with certainty that the individual voices of the past influenced one another. Even more, all those voices — including our own — continued, and continue even today, to influence the nature and meaning of the very texts we study.
Ours is a living tradition. Books that are not constantly interpreted and reinterpreted as they are studied, texts that do not become the subject of ongoing dialogue, atrophy and lose their relevance to our lives.
The Torah became a different document after it was studied by Rabbi Akiva, just as Rabbi Akiva was changed by his encounter with this sacred text. The Talmud was reshaped under the hands of its numerous commentators, just as they were influenced by its teachings. While the words of our sacred literature are unchanging, the Jewish method of study, of interaction with these texts, has allowed them to remain relevant and alive.
Without such interaction, the texts — and the heritage — we cherish grow stale and irrelevant. Studying a sacred text can be a spiritual act; but in order for the teachings of our ancestors to generate spirituality, we must encounter them, and their underlying values, as something fresh, vibrant and living.
Our challenge, then, is to carry on the vital work of bringing these texts alive, seeking to fashion a guide for our own generation through the medium of personal interaction with the very texts that, in turn, continue to shape our beliefs and our behavior.
This holiday season, as we welcome guests into our sukkah, let us resolve to engage in meaningful dialogues throughout the entire year that will help us to renew our traditions and improve the world.