Soak It Up!
We are taught from an early age that our lives are not random; they have meaning. Whether driven by internal passions or directed by external forces, somehow, somewhere, at some time in our lives, we discover and often re-discover what meaning means for each of us.
We are also taught from an early age that Torah is a precious gift containing the wisdom and the inspiration that may guide that pursuit of meaning in our lives.
So central is this concept of learning Torah that our sages created this mitzvah blessing,
“Blessed are You, God, who commanded us to be immersed (la’asok) in words of (divrei) Torah.”
I suggest that “to be immersed in words of Torah,” goes beyond the mitzvah of learning Torah, and that we are instructed to be “immersed (the Hebrew word is la’asok),” literally soaked, drenched, absorbed, totally engrossed in “Divrei Torah.”
And by Divrei Torah, that does not refer to literal words of Torah. The word d’varim also means things, matter, stuff. And so, without contorting the language at all, what I hear is this:
“Blessed are you, God, who has sanctified us through observance of mitzvot to be immersed in Torah stuff.”
What is Torah stuff? The blessing itself goes on to describe it: Honoring our parents, deeds of kindness, providing hospitality to guests, visiting the sick, making a wedding, accompanying the dead, making peace between people.
As we go through the day and perform these mitzvot, we need not say any mitzvah blessing before we do so…because we already did. The blessing is “to be immersed in Torah stuff – la’asok b’divrei Torah.” When we are walking and talking and thinking God’s Torah, we are absorbed in divrei Torah, Torah stuff.
What about learning Torah itself? We need not debate whether learning Torah or doing Torah is greater. The rabbis of the Talmud have done that, and their unanimous ruling is this: Study of Torah is greater than action. And they explain why: because the words of Torah are so profound, and the lessons of Torah are so compelling, that one cannot learn them without being moved to be la’asok b’divrei Torah, to act on them.
Here is a true story.
There was a teenage girl who was very active with her synagogue youth group. She exhibited skills as a leader. She was popular, and accomplished in her role, and clearly on the path to being a national officer. The grown-ups of the movement had to break the bad news to her: She was ineligible to run for that office because she overtly lived parts of her life in ways that were not aligned with the Jewish nature of the organization. This was her public statement in reaction,
“It disappointed me a lot that I had to give up that leadership opportunity because of my secular life. Obviously, people who are active in our organization are people who are passionate about their Judaism. I believe that if we make different choices in our secular life, I don’t see why there should be limitations within our organization.”
I am not sharing what the issue was, because the issue is not the issue. The bifurcation of her “Judaism” as separate from her “secular life” is the sad story, a story that rattles me. Because, to be honest, integrating our “Jewish Life,” with all of life – what might be called being “la’asok b’divrei Torah” – is easier said than done. How often are we in a situation when we might react instinctively, emotionally, or even intellectually without also considering how Torah learning has affected us and might affect what we do in the situation? It is hard to go through every moment of every day immersed in Torah stuff. And we are not the first generation to feel this way.
Many of us are familiar with the idea that the destruction of the Temple came about because of baseless hatred among the Jewish People. As it turns out, our sages proposed several theories in addition to this. Like this one. Rav Huna says in the name of Rav, the reason the land of Israel was lost is because when the people studied Torah, “they did not make a blessing on the Torah first.” It sounds like the people did learn Torah. But they failed to lift their learning off the page and place it into their lives. They had the content of Torah, but lacked the context of being la’asok b’divrei Torah, being immersed in Torah stuff. They engaged in Torah study, but they did not learn from what they learned.
The blessing, la’asok b’divrei Torah, is a call for us – to us – to welcome every day as an unfolding of infinite opportunities, all of which may be dedicated to Torah; opportunities which call for us – to us – to be immersed in Torah stuff. The pivotal words at the center of every mitzvah-blessing are these, “asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav,” “God enables us to attain kedusha – holiness – through mitzvot.” Rav Huna and Rav bring their idea about the tragic consequences of the disconnect between learning Torah and living Torah not to depress us, but because from 1,800 years away they are sending us their love. They know that it is hard to be holy. They want us to know that this is not a burden that God placed upon us, but a blessing that God placed within us on that first Shavu’ot, and which we celebrate every Shavu’ot when we unwrap the gift of Torah as if for the first time.
