There is an oft-told Hasidic tale of the Baal Shem Tov's holy fire and special prayer in the sacred forest. A concise version, borrowed from Noa Baum, follows:
Why do we need to suggest that each generation fails more than the previous one?
Why didn't the Hasidic masters ensure that their students knew these world-saving prayers, locations, and techniques?
Why did the disciples resign themselves to being unable to carry on, or build on, their teachers' traditions?
Contrary to parable of the Baal Shem Tov, rabbinic literature and subsequent texts are rife with examples of students standing on the shoulders of their predecessors. Even if we assume appropriate deference to our teachers and articulate this as "midgets on the shoulders of giants," we should acknowledge that our traditions, insight, analysis, and connectivity only mature as we continue to learn and grow. Why can't this be the message instead?
To be sure, my skepticism may have its roots in another story from one of my rebbes in yeshiva. In explaining his version of history, he noted that the "Jewish" version is more compelling than the scientific version. According to science (he said), the original archetype of all humanity was "a ape." According to (his) Judaism, however, the original paradigms included Avraham Avinu and other key biblical figures who had direct connections to Hashem. To him, it was more impressive to claim lineage from these figures than to believe that our ancient precursors weremonkeys chimps.
But this too, aside from beingwrong misguided, also proves more discouraging than encouraging. If our greatest potential as humans and as Jews came at our origin, or at the time of Moses or Akiva or Rashi or Rambam or the Baal Shem Tov, each succeeding generation only brings with a more complete departure from greatness and connections to the Divine. A disheartening message, to say the least. On the other hand, we can continue to hold our ancestors (and our perceived/cultural/literary ancestors) in high esteem, while recognizing that each generation brings us closer and closer to the Divine and elevates us from where we once were.
As Akavya b. Mahalel reminds us in Mishnah Avot (3:1), we all originate in a "putrid drop." Yet as time passes, we grow and mature. Maalin Bakodesh -- we continue to increase in holiness and we learn from our teachers and our students, who will learn from us and their students. We've grown ethically, technologically, and intellectually. We still have far to go, but as the saying goes, "we've come a long way, baby." Why not celebrate this growth, rejoice in all that we have learned from those who have come before us, and take it upon ourselves to build further on their legacies?
So I want to suggest a new telling of the fire/prayer/forest story, with apologies to all those who have passed on the original version (and whatever truth there is to the story itself):
At times of great crisis, the Baal Shem Tov would go to a special place in the middle of a forest and beseech God to avert the danger. And the crisis would be averted.
After the Baal Shem Tov passed on, his student, the Maggid of Mezrich, would, at times of great crisis, go to the same special place in the forest. He composed a special prayer that he would utter each time such action was needed. And the crisis would be averted.
After the Maggid of Mezrich passed on, his student, the Moshe Leib of Sasov, would, at times of great crisis, go to the same special place in the forest. He would recite the Maggid of Mezrich's prayer, adding a special prayer from his own heart. He would also light a fire to ensure that any wandering travelers would be able to find him, along with light, warmth, and sustenance. And the crisis would be averted.
After Moshe Leib passed on, his student, Israel of Rizhyn, would bring his students to the same special place in the forest. He would teach them the Maggid of Mezrich's prayer and encourage them to add a prayer of their own. He would show them how to light the same guiding fire that Moshe Leib lit. And they would sit by the fire and learn the story of the Baal Shem Tov, the Maggid of Mezrich, and Moshe Leib of Sasov.
And the Holy Blessed One would rejoice.
It is told that in every generation there are times when hope threatens to leave this world. At such times, the Baal Shem Tov, the great Jewish mystic, would go into a secret place in the forest. There he would light a special fire and say a holy prayer speaking the long-forgotten most sacred name of God.The danger was averted and hope stayed alive.
In later times when disaster threatened, the Maggid of Mezrich, his disciple, would go to the same place in the forest and say, "Ribono Shel Olam, Master of the Universe, I do not know how to light the fire, but I can say the prayer."
Still later, his disciple, Moshe Leib of Sasov, would go to the same place in the forest and say,, "Ribono Shel Olam, Master of the Universe, I do not know how to light the fire or say the prayer, but I found my way to this place, and that must be enough." And it was. Hope stayed alive.
And later when Israel of Rizhyn needed intervention from heaven, he sat in his chair with his head in his hands and say, "Ribono Shel Olam, Master of the Universe, I no longer know how to light the fire nor how to say the prayer, I can't even find our way to that place, but I can tell the story and that must be enough." And it was.
In later times when disaster threatened, the Maggid of Mezrich, his disciple, would go to the same place in the forest and say, "Ribono Shel Olam, Master of the Universe, I do not know how to light the fire, but I can say the prayer."
Still later, his disciple, Moshe Leib of Sasov, would go to the same place in the forest and say,, "Ribono Shel Olam, Master of the Universe, I do not know how to light the fire or say the prayer, but I found my way to this place, and that must be enough." And it was. Hope stayed alive.
And later when Israel of Rizhyn needed intervention from heaven, he sat in his chair with his head in his hands and say, "Ribono Shel Olam, Master of the Universe, I no longer know how to light the fire nor how to say the prayer, I can't even find our way to that place, but I can tell the story and that must be enough." And it was.
And it still is. As long as stories are told, hope stays in the world.
At first glance, this is a beautiful story. Many people tout this story as example of the importance of carrying on traditions as well as we can, even when we fail in certain respects. As the parable notes, even recounting the story of the fire and the prayer in the forest was sufficient to avert disaster and intercede with the Divine. And storytelling itself is critical, especially to the Hasidic masters. But notwithstanding a family tradition that traces our ancestry back to the Baal Shem Tov himself, I've always taken issue with the message here. I want to suggest that its message is precisely the opposite of the parable we should be telling. To wit:Why do we need to suggest that each generation fails more than the previous one?
Why didn't the Hasidic masters ensure that their students knew these world-saving prayers, locations, and techniques?
Why did the disciples resign themselves to being unable to carry on, or build on, their teachers' traditions?
Contrary to parable of the Baal Shem Tov, rabbinic literature and subsequent texts are rife with examples of students standing on the shoulders of their predecessors. Even if we assume appropriate deference to our teachers and articulate this as "midgets on the shoulders of giants," we should acknowledge that our traditions, insight, analysis, and connectivity only mature as we continue to learn and grow. Why can't this be the message instead?
To be sure, my skepticism may have its roots in another story from one of my rebbes in yeshiva. In explaining his version of history, he noted that the "Jewish" version is more compelling than the scientific version. According to science (he said), the original archetype of all humanity was "a ape." According to (his) Judaism, however, the original paradigms included Avraham Avinu and other key biblical figures who had direct connections to Hashem. To him, it was more impressive to claim lineage from these figures than to believe that our ancient precursors were
But this too, aside from being
As Akavya b. Mahalel reminds us in Mishnah Avot (3:1), we all originate in a "putrid drop." Yet as time passes, we grow and mature. Maalin Bakodesh -- we continue to increase in holiness and we learn from our teachers and our students, who will learn from us and their students. We've grown ethically, technologically, and intellectually. We still have far to go, but as the saying goes, "we've come a long way, baby." Why not celebrate this growth, rejoice in all that we have learned from those who have come before us, and take it upon ourselves to build further on their legacies?
So I want to suggest a new telling of the fire/prayer/forest story, with apologies to all those who have passed on the original version (and whatever truth there is to the story itself):
At times of great crisis, the Baal Shem Tov would go to a special place in the middle of a forest and beseech God to avert the danger. And the crisis would be averted.
After the Baal Shem Tov passed on, his student, the Maggid of Mezrich, would, at times of great crisis, go to the same special place in the forest. He composed a special prayer that he would utter each time such action was needed. And the crisis would be averted.
After the Maggid of Mezrich passed on, his student, the Moshe Leib of Sasov, would, at times of great crisis, go to the same special place in the forest. He would recite the Maggid of Mezrich's prayer, adding a special prayer from his own heart. He would also light a fire to ensure that any wandering travelers would be able to find him, along with light, warmth, and sustenance. And the crisis would be averted.
After Moshe Leib passed on, his student, Israel of Rizhyn, would bring his students to the same special place in the forest. He would teach them the Maggid of Mezrich's prayer and encourage them to add a prayer of their own. He would show them how to light the same guiding fire that Moshe Leib lit. And they would sit by the fire and learn the story of the Baal Shem Tov, the Maggid of Mezrich, and Moshe Leib of Sasov.
And the Holy Blessed One would rejoice.
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