One of my favorite Jewish theologians and philosophers from the 20th century is Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel.
Born in Poland in 1907, the scion of a distinguished rabbinical and hassidic dynasty, and the namesake of his forebearer, Heschel had a traditional yeshiva education. He then went on to the University of Berlin for his doctorate and remained in Germany till he was deported back to Poland by the Nazis in 1938. He escaped to London before the Nazi invasion and finally made his way to the USA.
There, at the Jewish Theological Seminary of New York, he worked hard on reintroducing mysticism and spirituality to the masses. Even in the JTS he was criticized for not applying his masterful mind and scholarship to critical textual works. Instead of writing critical editions based on obscure manuscripts that would collect dust in university library stacks, he wrote wonderful poetry in prose.
He beautifully described Shabbat, God, Man, and Israel and the relationship between them in which “God was in search of Man.” But because he published those books while teaching at the flagship of the Conservative movement, Orthodox Jewry saw him as “outside the camp” and as a foreigner. They were unable to include his works on the Jewish bookshelf. (Instead, they would have to be kept hidden, and passed between students as if they were some sort of contraband.)
This was to their detriment. There is so much we can learn from this profound soul. One of my favorite teachings of his is the concept of “radical amazement.”
He wrote: “Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement... get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed.”
Heschel saw the mitzvot (commandments) not just in their legalistic terms or covenantal responsibility, but as a means to achieve an awareness of God. The 613 mitzvot were 613 ways to achieve a connection to the Divine.
One of the ways I have tried to apply this teaching is when I make brachot, blessings. The Jew is encouraged to make 100 blessings daily. We bless before we eat, drink, or do mitzvot. We make blessings as part of our prayers and even after we go to the bathroom.
I REMEMBER as a kid in yeshiva, hearing the rebbe tell us (insert the sing-song voice): “If you eat without making a bracha, it is as if you are stealing from Hashem [God].”
As I got older, I realized the rebbe was wrong. One does not need permission from God to eat food. God owes us food. As a father, once I decide to bring children into this world, I have a responsibility to feed them. God is responsible to feed us. But the food that God owes us is a mealy soft apple. Cold oatmeal without the cinnamon and sugar. Over-cooked pasta. God does not owe us steak, ice cream or brick oven pizza. God does not owe us strawberries.
Heschel taught that when we make a bracha, we are not thanking God for giving us food but rather we are expressing wonder and radical amazement at how awesome it is to be able to eat, and not just eat but eat all the wonderful food there is.
“Blessed are you God who created the fruit of the tree!” is a statement of wonder. We hold the peach in our hand and express amazement that this was once just a piece of wood, and now a delicious peach grew out of it! Amazing! We bless before we do mitzvot because we are amazed that we have been sanctified by God to be in a position to do a mitzvah.
I fear that we Orthodox Jews, in our fierce defense of Torah and in careful observance of its minutia, have lost sight of the spirituality that is supposed to come with the privilege of being Jewish and having a relationship with God. We may pray three times a day, but how many of us pray by taking the cassette tape called Mincha, the afternoon prayer, out and pressing play? How many of us find ourselves bowing at Modim (“We give thanks”) and wonder how we got there, with no conscious memory of Ashrei (“Happy are they”) just 10 minutes earlier. We have sacrificed mindfulness for meticulousness.
In God in Search of Man: A Philosophy of Judaism, Heschel writes something that we Orthodox Jews can easily learn a lot from: “Religion declined not because it was refuted, but because it became irrelevant, dull, oppressive, insipid. When faith is completely replaced by creed, worship by discipline, love by habit; when the crisis of today is ignored because of the splendor of the past; when faith becomes an heirloom rather than a living fountain; when religion speaks only in the name of authority rather than with the voice of compassion – its message becomes meaningless.”
The writer holds a doctorate in Jewish philosophy and teaches in post-high school yeshivot and midrashot in Jerusalem.