Eat. Pray. Live.
Rabbi Ron Shulman
Shabbat Ekev 5771
A Hassid, hot and perspired, once came rushing in to see his Rebbe. He boasted that he had just performed a great mitzvah! He taught a poor Jewish man to pray. It seems that a beggar came looking for a piece of bread and asked the Hassid for something to eat.
“First we must pray,” the Hassid insisted. Noticing that the sun was about to set, he led his guest in praying Minhah, the afternoon service, and then Ma’ariv, the evening service. After their prayers, the hungry man again asked for food. “First we must wash our hands,” answered the Hassid, and he taught him to recite the blessing, al netilat yadayim, the prayer for hand washing. “Then I gave him something to eat,” proclaimed the Hassid to his teacher.
Hearing his student’s story, the Rebbe grew sad. “You meant well, but you did not act well.” “What should I have done?” The Rebbe said to him, “Listen, when an individual comes to you, and he’s hungry, you act as if there is no God. “No God in the world?” The Hassid was astonished by the apparent blasphemy.
“Yes, no God. When a person comes to you in need, you must act as if there is no one else in the world to help him except you. You give a hungry person food. You provide something to eat right away. Do you think it is a mitzvah to bless God on an empty stomach? Anybody can force somebody to bless God with a growling stomach.”
“What about his soul? asked the Hassid.” The Rebbe answered, “Take care of your soul, and of his body.”
Two verses from this morning’s Torah portion come to mind. The first reflects the Hassid’s passion when meeting his hungry guest. “Man does not live by bread alone,” Moses instructs the Israelites. Moses means that it was not on ordinary food, but rather on the miracle of manna that the people subsisted in the wilderness for forty years.
We mean something more. We hope, as we believe, that we are more than physical beings. Our physical well being comes first and we understand much about our bodies’ physiology. We know some of what causes us to feel pain or pleasure. We marvel at the function and discreet complexity of our physical existence. And we must be sensitive to preserving our health, to sustaining others and ourselves.
Even so, we still wonder. It is a common mistake to think that if the physical mechanics of life can be described, the sensations we experience are explained. Hunger is both a body’s call for fuel and a person’s call for help.
If you have been disturbed in your sleep by a dream, if you have felt inner peace or joy through a powerful experience, you can appreciate the difference between how your mind and body produces those sensations and defining what they mean.
At their fullest, our lives ought to be about the meaning. Our experiences every day, our relationships, our ailments, our aches and even our ambitions and achievements are the purpose of our lives. When we see them for what they truly are, when we recognize their significance, we move from the world of our physical being to discovering the miracle of our being human. “Man does not live by bread alone.”
The second verse of interest is the source for one of our daily rituals, Birkat HaMazon, the blessings we recite after eating a meal. Moses instructs Israel, “When you have eaten and are satisfied, give thanks to the Lord your God for the good land which God has given you.” V’akhalta, v’savata, u’verakhta. This was the Rebbe’s lesson to his student.
First, as we just said, our physical needs must be satisfied and met. Only then are we in a comfortable and proper position to discuss themes of belief and values. Think about the angst in our country today. People who seek work, who need to provide for themselves and their families, cannot discuss reflectively the virtue of public policy. Their basic needs have to be met first. That said we all recognize the need for a real discussion about what ails our society.
The Talmud teaches, “Mi sh’akhal hu y’varekh – The one who eats also blesses.” In other words, once your physical needs are met, your next responsibility is to move from subsistence, simple existence, to reflection and meaning. We do not live to survive. We survive in order to live.
As well, tradition teaches us that for the ritual of Birkat HaMazon, the prayer may be recited in any language. We should understand what we are saying, sincerely expressing our gratitude. We should also be honest about what we are saying, speaking our words, our thoughts, and the truths of our experience. That’s how a society has a real dialogue. We listen to the variety of views present among us inviting everyone to find their seat at our common table.
As human beings, all of us are blessed with the strengths and weaknesses of our bodies and minds. We are endowed with different capabilities and preferences. We have interests or tastes that are both instinctive and acquired. Given these objective and subjective realties we are compelled to ask what we seek in life. When we don’t feel well we can’t ask or answer with proper focus and direction.
Before we read Torah this morning I asked a question. What’s the difference between Motzi, the blessing we recite before we eat, and Birkat HaMazon, the b’rakhot we recite following our meal?
Here’s my answer. Motzi translates “Blessed are You, Eternal our God, Who brings forth bread from the earth.” Motzi acknowledges the presence of God through nature, sensitizing us to our physical being. Motzi expresses our gratitude for the gift of our lives, for the wonder and beauty of the world that sustains us. We say Motzi before we eat because our physical strength comes first, before we can consider something deeper about life.
Birkat HaMazon states thanks for food and for our people’s covenant with God, for Torah, for compassion, for freedom, for the Land of Israel, and for our lives’ values. Birkat HaMazon acknowledges the presence of God through history and human activity, sensitizing us to the purpose of our lives. Birkat HaMazon celebrates our lives as they evolve, as we live them. Its words help us to frame the meaning in who we are, what we believe, and why our efforts are significant.
This is what I would have told the Hassid who met and fed a hungry man. Eat. Pray. Live. Our meal’s blessings reflect our lives’ quest. We strive first for strength, and only then for purpose and for meaning. Ultimately, we appreciate that we live not for bread alone, but for fulfillment and blessing.
© 2011 Rabbi Ronald J. Shulman
