Even though there are always pressing current events that call for all of us who are spiritual to address them in that perspective, namely, what would God have us to do? There is illness; racism still needs to be eradicated and the list goes on. But sometimes, I just feel the need to go back to the classics. Sometimes, I need to nurture my soul on the words from my mentors, most of whom I never met. One such person is the famous rabbi-teacher in the twentieth century. I never met Abraham Joshua Heschel, but I have been immensely helped by him.
Heschel is one of the elite writers who stuns me every time I read something from him. Recently, I had occasion to pull down his book from the bookshelf written in the 1950s, Quest for God. The first chapter is on the inner world. In true Jewish fashion, Heschel begins with a story. They story is about a very poor shoemaker. His customers were just as poor. So when his customers slept, the shoemaker was at his work repairing their shoes so that when morning came, they could pick up their shoes and make it to their job---no lost wages.
The question is raised, however, when does the shoemaker say his morning prayers? To someone who is not spiritual, this question makes no sense. But for those of us who would like some semblance of a spiritual life, it makes perfect sense. When do I practice my beliefs? The shoemaker is busy doing good work. Is it selfish to quit for a bit to say his personal prayers? What if this were to cost some of his customers because he did not finish their shoes? Heschel never directly answers this question. But I believe he offers some hints.
We read that the shoemaker worked on with his tasks. But as morning approached, he would look up, “utter a sigh” and say something like, “Woe unto me, I haven’t prayed yet!” (4) Heschel gives us a one-sentence commentary. He observes, “Perhaps that sigh is worth more than prayer itself.” Then in a deft move, Heschel personalizes this by dragging all of us into the story. “We, too, face this dilemma of wholehearted regret or perfunctory fulfillment.” Now Heschel is ready to launch into an analysis of this story. I can relate to his questions and appreciate his insights.
We can sense Heschel at his best if we simply listen to his words. “We do not refuse to pray; we abstain from it. We ring the hollow bell of selfishness rather than absorb the stillness that surrounds the world, hovering over all the restlessness and fear of life---the secret stillness that precedes our birth and succeeds our death.” I think he is exactly right. Most of us are not rebelling from prayer---it’s not refusal. Instead, we abstain. We don’t do it for a thousand reasons---and no good reason. I understand those who don’t believe in God or a Higher Power. But for those of us who do---myself included and, probably first of all---I am not sure I understand.
We ring the hollow bell of selfishness is a great phrase! Who thinks about selfishness as a hollow bell? In the first place, no one thinks he or she is selfish. We know other people who are, but we don’t think we are. I know I am not! But I believe Heschel is on to something. When I am selfish---self-centered---I miss the mystery of life that surrounds me. Heschel puts it succinctly. “We dwell on the edge of mystery and ignore it, wasting our souls, risking our stake in God.”
Heschel assures us that we can use our sorrows and regrets as pathways to the Spirit. Or we can choose to pursue God without having to go through pain and despair. Heschel promises us that we can make ourselves available to God. We can open ourselves to the Holy One. He claims, “Mindfulness of God rises slowly, a thought at a time. Suddenly we are there. From this, Heschel pens one of the most profound definitions of prayer I know. This leads into a discussion about how we can become known by God. This is a place I would long to be: to know and be known by God. That leads to a robust life. But if we abstain from it---ignore it all---then all of this is lost to us. It is as if we are forsaken by God.
But it is really ourselves who are betraying God. To this end, Heschel describes the person who betrays the Holy One as “drunk with vanity, resentment, or reckless ambition.” (11) Furthermore, this person “lives in a ghostly mist of misgivings. Then Heschel offers another powerful image of this person. “Spoiler of his own lot, he walks the earth a skeleton of a soul…”
This is a graphic image of any of us who have punted on what I call the most important point of life: recognizing our dependency on God as creator and sustainer. There is one agenda worth doing, namely, God’s agenda. This requires a healthy soul nurtured for the life and work of God’s desire for us. Otherwise, we opt for a way of life that will emaciate us, making us appear like a skeleton of a soul.
I am not a cobbler, but I want to sigh at least…and let that lead me to prayer and a relationship that will put flesh on these bones.
Those of us who have read theology or, perhaps, those who are people of faith and are old enough might well recognize this title as a reminder of the late Jewish philosopher and theologian, Martin Buber. I remember reading Buber’s book, I and Thou , when I was in college in the 1960s. It was already a famous book by then. I am not sure I fully understood it, but that would not be the last time I read it. It has been a while since I looked at the book. Buber came up in a conversation with a friend who asked if I had seen the recent article by David Brooks? I had not seen it, but when I was told about it, I knew I would quickly locate and read that piece. I very much like what Brooks decides to write about and what he contributes to societal conversation. I wish more people read him and took him seriously. Brooks’ article focused on the 2016 contentious election. He provocatively suggests, “Read Buber, Not the Polls!” I think Brooks puts
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