Great Days, not Dark Days
Choni HaMaagal, a Jewish sage who lived two thousand years ago, once passed a man planting a carob tree and asked how long it would take for the tree to bear fruit. When the man responded that it would take 70 years, Choni asked, “are you certain you will live another seventy years?” The man answered that he benefited from the already grown carob trees planted by his father, grandfather, and forefathers, and therefore he was planting these trees for his children and grandchildren.”
Soon afterwards, Choni lay down to rest in a nearby cave. He fell into a deep sleep and awoke. He passed by the tree and, sure enough, there was a man there plucking fruit from the tree. It soon became apparent to Choni that the man enjoying the fruit was indeed the grandson of the man he had earlier encountered. He eventually discovered that he had been asleep for seventy years.
Choni returned to the local study hall and was accepted there due to his evident Torah scholarship. But gradually, Choni realized that he couldn’t relate to this new generation. The world had changed, people had changed. He could find no friend, no person with whom he could share his thoughts and feelings. He exclaimed, “oh chavruta oh mituta, “either give me friends or let me die.” The notion of living the rest of his years in a thoroughly changed social environment was so disconcerting to him that he preferred to die.
In this week’s Parsha, we read that Moses was cognizant of his own imminent death. He did not wish to leave his people leaderless and beseeched the Almighty to designate his successor.
Moses made peace with his ultimate demise and felt responsible for finding a successor, and accepted that his disciple Joshua would fill his shoes. This brings us back to the story of Choni HaMaagal. The world changes from one generation to the next. As the older generation ages, it becomes increasingly aware that it has no place in the new world. It is outdated, almost irrelevant, out of touch with the challenges and resources of the new reality.
Choni preferred death to the lack of companionship and Moses, at least according to one Midrashic approach (Devarim Rabba V’Eschanan), surrendered only when he realized that he had no meaningful role to play in Joshua’s new world.
Rabbi Chaim of Zanz was one of the greatest authorities of Jewish law in the 19th century. When he was seventy years old, he stopped adjudicating any law matters but not because he felt his intellect was waning, rather, he believed he was not—could not—be sufficiently familiar with the realities faced by a new generation. He felt unqualified to offer it authoritative legal guidance. Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, former dean of Yeshiva University and internationally known for his sharp and penetrating Talmud analysis, once commented that he consciously had to work at understanding each new generation of his students sufficiently to adapt to their cultural backgrounds.
Today, young and old, we all face circumstances which will force us to doubt our ability to cope successfully, let alone live full and meaningful Jewish lives in the new world in which we find ourselves. It’s a post COVID and post October 7th world. It’s the new reality of rising antisemitism, social unrest, fear of cyber-attacks, fear of personal safety, and so many other issues that were non issues or not as pronounced a generation ago. We have doubts how we will get through it but we don’t have to yield to these doubts. Instead, we can draw upon our own inner strengths and resources of our collective community, which allow us to connect and motivate the minds of other Jews—especially those seeking to navigate their Jewish identity during these demanding circumstances.
On October 29, 1941, the early days of WWII, Winston Churchill gave what has become a famous speech at the Harrow school.
Do not let us speak of darker days: let us speak rather of sterner days. These are not dark days; these are great days – the greatest days our country has ever lived; and we must all thank God that we have been allowed, each of us according to our stations, to play a part in making these days memorable in the history of our race.
Jews have survived for centuries because we have learned to adapt. The new normal isn’t a comfortable normal but our job is similar to the carob tree planter in the story with Choni. We have reaped the benefits of Jewish parent, grandparents, and community leaders who planted the “trees” from which we now benefit. Let’s not look at these as dark days, but rather great days; days of opportunity to plant seeds so that there will be vibrant Jewish communities for years to come. The best methods are the time-tested systems of building strong families and communities centered around Torah and its timeless lessons.
Good Shabbos