Parashat Miketz
The Song of the Land
A Torah teaching for the Western environmentalist.
By Rabbi Shaul David Judelman
This
commentary is provided by special arrangement with Canfei Nesharim. To learn
more, visit www.canfeinesharim.org.
The Environmental movement that
has sprung forth from the West bears many imprints of the same paradigms of
thought that have led to the environmental crisis itself. There is a tendency
to rush towards results and overlook the process required to organically arrive
at those results, and part of our work in healing is to redress these
internalized ways of thinking to arrive at a truly sustainable way of living.
Through the Torah, this lesson of process can be learned.
At the beginning of Parashat Miketz we hear of
Pharoah's prophetic dream: seven robust cows devoured by seven frail ones. The
signs seem clear for all to see: seven good and seven so bad they devour the
good that was. It is a vision that perhaps foretells of our human endeavors
with technology: a golden age of Enlightenment and invention, industrialization
and higher qualities of life, now quivering under the unknown threat of today's
environmental crisis.
Why weren't the Egyptians able to understand the dream? Upon
hearing Joseph's interpretation, it seems fairly clear. Was it myopia? Was it
denial? How do we as environmentalists, aware of the "dreams"
(predictions) of our scientists, share the interpretation?
The challenge of "giving over the bad news" is
something environmentalists have been struggling with for the last 30 years.
With news that nobody wants to hear, how do we spread the message? And as our
goal is not to share bad news, but rather to inspire, motivate, and guide
necessary changes that society and individuals need to make--how do we achieve
this?
Action & Spirit
The environmental movement faces this challenge to catalyze
change in two distinct realms: action and spirit. In the realm of action,
consumer patterns, industrial pollution, and carbon footprints are the terms of
discourse and site of change.
But in a broader perspective those actions are the result of
a deeper problem: an imbalance of spirit, or exile. If our lifestyle is out of
balance with the ecosystems we inhabit, is it fair to assume that our inner
dimensions are also out of balance? And while we are seeing great advances and
potential in addressing the action side of our crisis, is enough attention
being paid to the inner dimensions of disconnect?
At the end of the day, as green technologies become a
greater part of public awareness and economic reality, the actions seem easier
to fix, while our personal and intimate awareness of what is around us remains
as disconnected as ever. How do we address this experiential exile from our
Place? How do we share that the importance of a personal connection to one's
habitat--the seasons, the fruits, and the land--and the living experience of
connection to a place, is really a connection to a part of our own larger self?
Acting as Ambassadors
If the vision at the opening of Miketz raises the
question, perhaps we may seek an answer from the same parashah. Joseph,
the favorite son who was years before left for dead by his jealous brothers,
has come to power in Egypt and is in charge of dispensing the only food stores
in the region. Jacob, his father, sends a "care package" down with
his brothers to the ruler, gifting him with fruits of the land of Israel.
How estranged has this son become to his land and people?
Jacob and his sons are playing the role of ambassador to an exiled Joseph. As
environmentalists who are aware of the crisis our actions have placed before
our planet, we are also in a role of ambassadorship to a society that continues
down an unsustainable path.
Jacob does not point out the bad points of Egypt, rather he
sends Joseph the fruits of the land. Rebbe Nachman writes that Jacob was
sending this mysterious ruler of Egypt a taste of what the Land of Israel is.
This is perhaps the true core of environmental work--to pass on the awareness
of ourselves within our surroundings. The song of the land is a serenade
waiting to be heard. Whether working with youth in the city or CEOs of
multi-nationals, at our best we are trying to bring the voice of the earth into
the equation.
The Song of the Land
When Jacob sends Joseph the package, the Torah calls it zimrat
ha'aretz, the song of the land (Genesis 43:11). The translation of Onkelos
understands this phrase to mean "the crops that a land is praised
for." The connection between fruits and song is a rather significant theme
in Jewish agriculture. As Mishnah Bikkurim (First Fruits) describes, the
bringing of the first fruits to Jerusalem in the days of the Temple was
accompanied by music. Elsewhere, the Talmud teaches that "song is not said
except over wine (Berakhot 35a)."
The tastes of a place become indelibly etched into our
memories. I have an uncle who hasn't been to Israel in 20 years, and what I
hear him asking for is "one of those Israeli tomatoes or cucumbers."
Taste is beyond words, yet somehow contains the experience of a place.
In the Torah text, the trop (musical notation) that
hover over the shapes and dots of the letters are called the ta'amim, a
word that literally means taste. Kabbalah teaches that these "tastes"
reveal the secret meaning of the text. And when Joseph receives the offering of
the tastes of his homeland, it is written in the Torah as the start of the
sequence wherein Joseph begins crying for home (Genesis 43:25-50).
An experience that is by definition beyond words finds its
voice through taste and song. The fruits of the land have the power to bring us
back to a place of pure connection. Though a tremendous focus of environmental
work is on fixing the actions of society, we don't want to miss the deeper
challenges that are at the root of our physical disconnect, for that is the
source from where we will harvest the real fruits.
What is being said here is that the Torah's choice of
calling the fruits the "song of the land" alludes to a level of
existence well beyond the form and atoms we know, well beyond the mere actions
that we do in this world. In Kabbalah the dual existence of spirit and matter
is called the "light" and the "vessels." There is a crucial
lesson therein for building sustainable forms of activism and change.
Our personal encounters with nature--quiet, sanctity,
connection, beauty, etc.--are "lights" that slowly build within us, a
growing awareness that can change how we act. For some people the gap between
this experience of nature, and the destructive effects our lifestyles have upon
it, has compelled action. The light of their experience has become a vessel.
This is beautifully reflected in how Jacob tells his sons "to take from
the fruits of the land in your vessels (Genesis 43:11)."
What is crucial for our own sanity as environmentalists is
to refresh our source of light--to take our breaks, our Shabbat in the woods,
our daily reconnecting with who and where we are. And then we can share this
level of experience with our neighbors and friends as a part of our path, just
as Joseph shared with the Egyptians not just the doomsday prediction, but also
the solution.
Any of the below "Suggested Action Items" can help
foster our sense of belonging to the place we inhabit and ultimately help us to
nurture the awareness from where sustainable living habits will grow naturally.
The taste and song of Green living are the greatest allies in affecting
substantial organic change in our patterns. For if we end up with an
environmentally sustainable lifestyle but have never grown any more aware of
our surroundings and our personal connection to that which is outside of us, we
may be missing one of the ultimate lessons the environmental crisis is here to
teach us.
Suggested Action Items:
1. Find a guide to local plants and wildlife, providing
yourself with a glimpse of what was here before us.
2. Learn the local geology of your neighborhood and the
natural forces that sculpted the terrain--transform walking to the corner store
into a hike!
3. Discover who the native people were who grew up in
harmony with the place you currently live.
4. Learn the factors in your local climates (beyond the
weather forecaster) to increase success in planning outings under good weather.
5. Introduce schoolchildren to the ecosystem that exists
below the asphalt and that which has developed above it.
6. Buy foods from local farms, cutting down tremendously on
the transport costs of fuel and also bringing you into sensual contact with
place and time.
Rabbi Shaul David Judelman spent six years in the Bat Ayin
Yeshiva Rabbinical program and now teaches at Yeshivat Simchat Shlomo while
working on several different environmental initiatives in Jerusalem. He is the
founder and coordinator of Simchat Shlomo's Eco-Activist Beit Midrash, a
program offering holistic in-depth Torah study around issues of ecology.
