The Monk And The Materialist

Nissan: Staying grounded, whilst reaching beyond

There is little overlap between the physical and spiritual realms. At least, that's how it seems. An enlightened monk rejects transient worldly pleasures to connect with a higher dimension. In extreme cases, some forsake all worldly attachments, numbing themselves to the joys and pains of personal relationships. They do so to wholly dedicate themselves to higher awareness. On the opposite side of our equation, we place the materialist. Someone whose only purpose is the here and now. We could picture a selfish philistine indulgent whose sole activities involve amassing capital and spending it.

The above representations are, to a certain extent, caricatures. But with introspection, we may observe an imposed divide between the spiritual and the physical in our own lives. Caught in the mad rush of modern existence, many of us consign an infinite God to specific times of prayer and study. In some respects, this is understandable. While we recognize our prerogative to place God in front of us at all times, the material world we inhabit appears to actively deny his presence.

Though average religious Jews in the past were less knowledgeable, they engaged with cultures that confirmed a spiritual undercurrent to existence. God's everyday presence was palpable to them, and the pace of life afforded more time for devotional contemplation. In contrast, modern society is hostile to religious faith and far too busy to encourage spiritual reflection. When trying to find meaning and purpose in life, this disconnect can cause frustration. How should we, 21st-century beings, address this acute scarcity of spiritual sustenance?

Our entry into Nissan's spring month offers an opportunity to develop an approach to our quandary. Our environment is vibrant with the energy of renewal. As winter fades, the gentle light of renewal bathes the earth, days grow longer, and flowering trees bloom with buds. During this time, nature's beauty becomes a poignant reminder of God's perpetual act of creation.

Our Sages teach that we must contemplate and celebrate springtime's spectacular rejuvenation of life. Consequently, anyone who encounters a blossoming fruit tree during Nissan is obligated to recite Birchas-HaIlanos, the blessing for trees:

"Blessed are You... Ruler of the universe, who left no lack in His creation, and created pleasant creatures and trees so that people could enjoy them."

Sounds great, right? Yet strangely, there is an ethical teaching in Pirkei Avot that appears diametrically opposed to what we have discussed so far:

"Rav Yaakov taught: When someone reviews his Torah studies while walking along the road and pauses his study to marvel, 'How magnificent this tree is!' 'How beautiful this field is!' — The Torah considers him to have forfeited his soul."

{Pirkei Avos 3:9}

Rav Yaakov's harsh objection to one admiring nature is jarring compared to the sages' earlier attitude. How can we, on the one hand, bless God's provision of natural beauty for our pleasure whilst simultaneously condemning an individual for wasting time on aesthetic enjoyment?

We can use Rav Tzvi Yehudah Kook's elegant method for resolving this seeming inconsistency as a foundation on which we continue addressing our original question. He explains that the failure of the person who marvelled at a tree's beauty was not that he voiced his aesthetically inclined admiration for lush trees and picturesque landscapes. To do so is entirely appropriate, so much so that our sages composed a blessing specifically targeted at expressing appreciation for flora and fauna.

So what, then, was the intent behind Rav Yaakov's scathing criticism of this individual's conduct?

In this case, the person's mistake wasn't pausing to admire the surrounding scenery. But instead that he indulged in his sense of curiosity as a diversion from Torah study. In other words, for this individual, spirituality was restricted to a handful of designated activities rather than forming a holistic understanding of life. He had erroneously segmented his experiences into mundane and religious realms. In truth:

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Spirituality should not just be an activity one does but an attitude towards all aspects of one's existence.

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In his work Derech Hashem, the Ramchal teaches that God created this world and physical existence to prepare us for the world to come. Rav Lopiansky observes that on this point, two groups of people err. In the first category, hedonists see our finite existence as a means in and of itself, blindly following the mantra, "eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you may die". Obviously, the materialist ignores the entire purpose of creation as a preparation for something beyond itself.

But the second segment of society makes a more subtle oversight. Ascetics refuse to engage with the present context because they see it as a mere shadow, a pathetic adumbration of the true spiritual world that awaits. And whilst this analysis may be correct, they critically forget that God designed creation to prepare us for the next. This means that the human experience of emotional and physical existence is paramount. We must face the messy vicissitudes of daily living, pain, love, joy, and regret to be adequately equipped to benefit from the world to come. Thus, God intends for us to live fully within the earthly realm.

In another well-known teaching, Rav Yaakov, quoted earlier, says the following:

... this world is like an entranceway before the world to come; prepare yourself in the entranceway so you may enter the banqueting hall.

{Pirkei Avos 4:16}

We can read new significance into this statement in light of everything discussed so far. We now see the physical and spiritual realms as fundamentally connected. Sacred engagement with material existence connects us with the transcendent, opens us to the divine, and paves the way to sanctity. This world and the next are not two dissociated entities but a unified system. As a result, the sublime grandeur of the banqueting hall, the world to come, can permeate and elevate the entranceway, our psychical earth.

Critically, we must constantly live with the future world in mind for this to happen. If we were to ignore it, finite existence would cease to have any meaning whatsoever. An entranceway without a banqueting hall ceases even to be an entranceway.

It is our challenge to embrace the present, living with the awareness that our finite existence is a means to something more profound. To remember the banqueting hall that awaits us while fully engaging with the entranceway of physical life. We must strive to appreciate the beauty of the here and now while understanding that this is merely a stepping stone to something greater. God wants us neither to be a monk nor a materialist, and herein lies the paradox of Jewish religious life. To be of this world and yet live beyond it.

Good Shabbos, and Keep Pondering!