A Time to Cry, A Time to Act
By Rabbi Yoseph Kahanov, Jax. FL
The unmistakable echo of hulking boots pounding the outdoor pavement was enough to strike terror into the hearts of the small band of Chassidim gathered in a dimly lit basement in the Russian city of Samarkand.
The purpose of the gathering was a “Farbrengen,” a Chassidic get-together meant to encourage and inspire one another in the pursuit of spirituality and Divine service. Such gatherings were obviously utterly outlawed in communist Russia and punishable by unthinkable penalty.
As the Farbrengen lingered into the wee hours of the morning the atmosphere became increasingly somber. With tears in their eyes a number of younger Chassidim unburdened their heavy hearts on the presiding Mashpia (spiritual mentor) regarding their deficient spiritual state.
It was at this climactic moment that the thumping from outside caught the attention of the group of Farbrengers now gripped by sudden fear. Who else would be parading the streets at this ungodly hour if not the NKVD? Alas, their secret was uncovered; their game was up. Only G-d knows what would be with them now. Would they ever see their families again?
As if in auto-pilot they instinctively scattered in all directions. This one climbed under a bed, that one into a closet and another atop the furnace. But after a short while that seemed like eternity the footsteps subsided. They were in the clear after all.
With the passage of time, they regained their composure and one by one returned to the table where they tried to pick up where they left off, lamenting over their inadequate spiritual level.
“One minute!” cried the Mashpia. “Something isn’t right with this picture! How come when your physical lives were in danger, there was no wailing, no philosophizing or strategizing. There was instant action. Yet, with regards to your spiritual state there is all this weeping. Ought not your spiritual woes, at the very least, elicit the same reaction as your physical woes?”
We all know that tears can be cathartic. A good sob has been known to cause a refreshing sense of relief. But is there more to the salty drop? Is there true and substantive benefit to the shedding of tears?
In describing the dramatic reunion between Yosef and Binyamin after 22 years, our Parsha – Vayigash – states: Yosef “fell on the neck of his brother Binyamin and wept, and Binyamin wept on his neck.” (Genesis 45:14).
The Talmud interprets the weeping on each other’s necks to denote deeper significance than what meets the eye. In fact, the brothers’ tears, according to the Talmud, were prophetic expressions of pain and sorrow over future tragedies in their respective histories: Yosef “wept over the two Sanctuaries that were to stand in the territory of Binyamin, which were destined to be destroyed. Binyamin, on the other hand, wept over the Shiloh Sanctuary that was to stand in the territory of Yosef and was to be destroyed” (Megillah 16:b)
Each tribe, as we know, received a portion in the Land of Israel, preceding the two Temples that stood in the city of Jerusalem, there was a Mishkan (portable sanctuary), which served the people of Israel in their journeys in the desert. This Mishkan was erected at Shiloh in Yosef’s portion following Israel’s entry into the Holy Land in the days of Yehoshua.
The first and second Temples lay in the territory of Binyamin. In the end all our Sanctuaries were tragically destroyed, thus the weeping by Yosef and Binyamin.
The purpose of the Temples was to provide a seat for the Divine holy presence in our world. They were the spot which the Almighty chose as the gateway for His eminence to enter the world. “As the soul fills the body,” declare our Sages, “So too does G-d fill the universe.” Ironic as it might be, the limitless and boundless G-d who infinitely transcends finite existence, desired for his presence to be manifest in our physical and finite world.
The Holy Temple is commonly compared to the neck of the spiritual matrix – the juncture that links heaven and earth. Much as the neck connects the head and the body, the Sanctuary acts as a link between the spiritual and the physical – the point of contact between the Creator and His creation.
Indeed, when the Holy Temple stood in Jerusalem it served as the spiritual nerve center of the universe. The destruction of the Sanctuary is thus the breakdown of the juncture between head and body – between essence and matter – G-d and creation.
Therein lies the significance of Yosef and Binyamin’s weeping on each other’s necks. Yosef and Binyamin foresaw the times when the “neck” between spirit and matter would be damaged, alienating earth from heaven and body from soul, hence they wept on each other’s necks.
But why did they each weep over the other’s necks, Yosef over Binyamin’s destroyed Sanctuaries and Binyamin over Yosef’s? Why not weep over their own tragedies? Were they not distressed by the future breakdown of their own “necks”?
Moreover, later in the narrative, as the Torah describes Yosef’s reunion with his father Yaakov, the Torah relates, “he fell upon his neck, and he wept more on his neck” (Genesis 46:29). Here too, our sages assert that Yosef’s weeping on Yaakov’s neck was a further expression of distress over the destruction of the Holy Temples. But what about Yaakov? Why didn’t he weep?
In answer to this quandary the Rabbis submit that Yaakov was preoccupied at the time with reciting the Shema. But this seems somewhat bizarre. Could he not have chosen a different time to recite the Shema other than this pivotal moment in his life- the long awaited reunion with his long lost son? Moreover, if it was time to recite the Shema, why was Yosef weeping instead of reciting the Shema as well?
The very nature and benefit of tears also seems to require some clarification. What does weeping actually achieve?
There is no arguing with the fact that tears are cathartic, but while tears give vent to distress and frustration that accompany the knowledge that something is not right, they do not address the problem that actually prompted the distress in the first place. Its relief is not dependent on whether or not the situation has improved. In the above light there is room to wonder, is crying a good thing? Does it contain any real benefit?
At first glance, it would seem not. Distress and frustration are what drive a person to rectify the negative conditions that give rise to them, to lessen the distress in any way other than to rectify the cause, would seem to counteract their purpose and utility.
But what if one has done all there is to be done? In this case, since weeping cannot be faulted for reducing the impetus for action, one can point to its constructive use, namely, to alert others to the gravity of the situation – others who are perhaps in a better position to help.
Ultimately, only Yosef can repair the destroyed Sanctuary at Shiloh – the “Yosef” dimension of Israel’s relationship with the Almighty – for it is his lot in life. Binyamin can only encourage and assist.
So after contributing all he could to Yosef’s efforts, Binyamin weeps in agony and concern vis-à-vis his brother’s neck. The same applies to Yosef’s weeping over the Sanctuaries in Binyamin’s domain. Hence Yosef and Binyamin allowed themselves to weep over the destruction of each other’s Sanctuaries.
They did not shed tears over the Sanctuaries which lay in their own territories, because concerning one’s own spiritual ills, there is no such thing as “having done all there is to do.” G-d has granted man free choice and has provided him with the necessary resources and abilities to overcome his every moral and spiritual challenge, hence there is no room to “cry” over one’s own spiritual deficiencies.
To weep over one’s own “neck,” over the negative state of the relationship between one’s own body and soul (and its cosmic equivalent) is counterproductive. In this case tears relieve and diminish the internal forces that compel one to repair the problem.
In the above light it is further understood why Yaakov does not weep at all. Since he is the father of all the tribes of Israel, his province includes all the Sanctuaries.
Instead of weeping over the destruction of the Holy Temple and the resultant “exile,” Yaakov recited the Shema. He proclaims G-d’s unity and the imperative to translate this comprehension and awareness into thoughts, feelings and concrete actions in his physical life.
Rather than giving vent to his pain, Yaakov directs his inner turmoil toward the endeavor of rebuilding the damaged necks of Israel.
The story of Yosef and his brothers to which the Torah devotes more than a dozen detailed chapters (Genesis 37-50), sketch many a defining page in the blueprint of Jewish history.
The lives of twelve sons of Yaakov – founders of the twelve tribes of Israel – their deeds and experiences, their separations and reunions, not to mention their tears – contain an eternal lesson for their progeny. From them we learn many lessons in our service of the creator, not the least of which is the secret of when to cry and when to act.
Through our concentration on the perfection of our lot in this world as well as our prayers and sympathy for the challenges and plot of our brethren in this dark exile, we will hasten the coming of the righteous Moshiach and the erection of the Third Temple BBA.
thats amazing!!!!!!!!!!