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Why there's hope amidst the destruction By Rabbi Yonason Goldson
The Consolation of Exile An 18th Century rebbe's teaching about our days
All the more so after a virtual lifetime of tribulations: forced into conflict with a wicked brother intent upon manipulating their father and expropriating their grandfather's legacy, forced to flee for his life after exposing his brother's duplicity, forced to contend against a scheming uncle determined to deceive and swindle him with every imaginable connivance, and finally forced to abandon all hope of seeing the completion of his life's mission in the form of his twelve sons forging themselves into the foundation of a holy nation — such had been the life of the patriarch Jacob as he stood before Pharaoh after discovering that his beloved son Joseph was still alive.
And Jacob lived in the land of Egypt for 17 years (Genesis 27:28). Says the Zohar, the kabbalistic Book of Splendor, he lived a life of contentment, forgetful of all the years of suffering that had filled his life.
But how could this be so?
Jacob knew well the prophecy revealed to his grandfather, Abraham, that his children would face four generations of slavery and find themselves pushed to the brink of spiritual and cultural extinction. He knew as well, despite the alleviation of his own personal grief, that his children and their children stood at the outset of the most bitter struggle for survival any people had ever known. Fully aware what lay ahead, how could Jacob have lived out the last years of his life in peace and contentment?
THE FRAGRANCE OF EDEN
Upon hearing this news, Rebbe Menachem Mendel's eyes grew wide. He leapt to his feet and ran to the window, which he threw wide open. He then stuck his head out the window and deeply sniffed the air. After a moment, he regained his composure, closed the window, and muttered, "A Meshugah! Just some nut case."
How could the rebbe know, simply by sniffing the air, whether or not the Messiah had truly arrived?
The sages tell us that, after the Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed, the entire world experienced a physical decline proportional to the spiritual loss. Fruits became smaller and tasted less sweet. Colors become less bright, and music sounded less beautiful. The last echoes and the last traces of the paradise that was Eden vanished from the earth. However, all is not lost forever. When the messianic era arrives, the world will be restored to the way it was in the days of the Temple — indeed, as it was in the days of Eden.
The sages also teach us that smell is the most spiritual of all our senses. Therefore, because a world with the Messiah is palpably more spiritual than a world without the Messiah, the quickest way for Rebbe Menachem Mendel to determine whether the messianic era had indeed arrived was to sniff the air. Upon discerning that the air had not acquired the fragrance of Eden, the rebbe knew that the Days of Redemption remained away in the future.
But one detail of the story still requires explanation. A century later, Rebbe Menachem Mendel's great-grandson wondered why his saintly forefather needed to run to the window. Why could he not simply smell the air inside his house to discover whether the Messiah had arrived?
CONNECTION WITH THE FUTURE
Under such conditions, time slows to a crawl, and the object of our anticipation remains distant from us until the instant it actually arrives.
However, if we are actively and integrally involved in bringing our objective closer, then we are neither helpless nor uncertain. When we engage the future by applying ourselves diligently to shaping its form and complexion, then we bring the future into the present, connecting ourselves with a still-distant goal so that we feel as if we have reached it long before it actually arrives.
Because Rebbe Menachem Mendel devoted every moment of his life to divine service, to Torah study, to acts of kindness, and to personal piety, every moment of his life was therefore connected to the arrival of the messianic era. For him, therefore, it was as if the time of the Messiah had already arrived. Consequently, the fragrance of his own home already carried the fragrance of Eden. Only by checking the air outside his house could the rebbedetermine whether the Messiah had come.
Similarly, when Jacob foresaw the generations of suffering that faced his descendants, he did not despair. Rather, he recognized that the culmination of his efforts, the product of his years of bitter toil, was to position his children so that each and every one of them could engage in the struggle of good against evil, of battling against corrupt enemies without and the impulses of selfishness and self-deception within.
At this moment, with the long darkness of exile stretching before him into the future, Jacob found consolation in the confidence that he had done all he could to bring the final destiny of mankind closer to its fulfillment. And just as he had finally come to know peace at the end of his life, so would his children at the End of Days.
When our enemies grow bolder, when our friends counsel us to make peace with enemies who reject peace, when the community of nations looks upon the overwhelming odds against which we stand and condemn us as aggressors — then, in the darkness of our exile, amidst intellectual dishonesty and moral blindness, we remember the consolation of our forefather Jacob, and we take comfort, as he did, in the approaching light of redemption that waits for us just beyond the horizon.
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Comment by clicking here. JWR contributor Rabbi Yonason Goldson teaches at Block Yeshiva High School in St. Louis, MO, where he also writes and lectures. Visit him at http://torahideals.wordpress.com .
© 2008, Rabbi Yonason Goldson
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