blogs/rabbi-noah-farkas

There's a town called Atri in India.  It's a remote village that, back in 1959 was about 40 miles from the closest hospital.  These 40 miles circumnavigate the Gehlour mountain hills which block any direct access from one  village to the next.  Once, a woman named Falguni suffered a grave injury in the village and her young husband, Dashrath took her in his wagon along the treacherous path seeking help.  Due to the long journey, Falguni died because of the lack of timely medical treatment. 

In the face of this deep tragedy, Dashrath took upon himself an oath to prevent more suffering in his village.  He vowed to manually carve a path through the mountain.  Working day and night for 22 years from 1960 to 1982, Dashrath hammered away at the rock.   

Day and night he toiled to carve a path and to shorten the distance between his village and the next.  For 22 years he used all his effort and free time, to make the much needed road.  For 22 years, he weathered mockery and scorn from fellow villagers.  For 22 years he never gave up on his task.  Why?

For many of us Dashrath's constancy is peculiar.  American spirituality says, if it's not new, it's not for me.  As Americans, we are addicted to newness. We are addicted to the next great experience.  Stores no longer just sell stuff, they stock their shelves with “seasonal “ selections.  From the moment one holiday ends, the next begins.  From the time we put away the Jack-O Lanterns and Halloween decorations to the time we take out the Christmas (or Hanukkah) decorations is about 24 hours.  Just about the amount of time it takes to clear the shelves.  

We are coequally obsessed with work and leisure.  We find our spirituality in the next business deal and in the next vacation.  It's explosive, it's exciting, it's even uplifting for a time.  Yet, in the quiet moments between concerts and contracts, when we find ourselves having lived a life that's constantly moving from one path to the next. When we look in the mirror with our grey hair, our baggy eyes and stooped brows and say was it worth it? Who am I now?  Is there any sense of constancy and coherency in my life?  

The Torah, and in particular this Torah portion gives us some guidance.  Imagine the Israelites marching in droves from Egypt. Now imagine them standing at the edge of the sea, split open.  Now imagine them again standing at the foot of Mt. Sinai under clouds of smoke and fire as they receive the Ten Commandments.  The intensive experiences serve as a forge that tempers the Jewish spirit.  Yet, after these explosive events, we come down off the mountain and say, “That was cool.  Now what?”  

Here comes this week's Torah portion, Mishpatim, to tell us that true spirituality doesn't reside on the top of a mountain or between the ocean-walls.  True spirituality is found in the laws of everyday living. “When people fight with each other… When ones' ox gores another's ox…when one digs a pit and does not cover it…when one steals property from another… Do not subvert the rights of the needy “Do not take bribes” “Do your work for six days, but on the seventh, you shall rest”.  These commandments are not born on the contrails of fire or the crashing of mighty waves.  These commandments are found in the everyday moment, when decisions of how to be, are made.   This is a spirituality of constancy, of tending to a life everyday to make it more wholesome, meaningful and more blessed. 

There is nothing special about mishpatim which is what makes it so special.  Like Dashrath who carved his way through a mountain inch by stony inch, the Torah teaches us that we must carve a path forward one day at a time.  We must stay on our path, for it is in the everyday living that we find our deepest rewards, as the Mishnah teaches, “Who is truly wealthy?  The one who is happy with his portion in life.”

After 22 years of chiseling away by hand, Dashrath broke through the last rocks.  Before him stood the next village, brimming with life.  He shortened the distance from 40 miles around the mountain to just over six miles through it.  With a spirituality of constancy, we built a life, a path through the mountain to make blessings for himself and for others.