NEILAH 5769

 

Of more than one thousand Rabbis cited in the Talmud, only one became a heretic. His name? Elisha ben Abuya.

Elisha was, by all accounts, one of the outstanding Jewish sages of the Second Century, a contem­porary of the great Rabbi Akiva and the teacher of Rabbi Meir, who became one of the leading scholars of his generation.

There are differing opinions as to the cause of Elisha ben Abuya's apostasy (I). Some say he was attracted by Greek culture, others that he was tormented by the problem of theodicy, how to reconcile G-d's essential goodness with a world in which the righteous suffer.

Elisha moved so far from Jewish tradition that his colleagues stopped referring to him by his name, but called him Acher,"the other", the outcast, the renegade. Only his student Rabbi Meir remained loyal to the man who had once been his master, sought out his company and still believed that he might one day repent.

Against this backdrop we find one of the most moving scenes in rabbinic literature.

It is Shabbos, and Elisha ben Abuya is publicly desecrating the holy day by riding a horse.  Walk­ing alongside him is Rabbi Meir.  Heretic teacher and faithful disciple travel together along the road arguing and debating Jewish law.

Suddenly the Talmudic narrative shifts to a new dimension of irony.  Rabbi Meir, the pious Jew, has become so immersed in the conversation that he has not noticed they are nearing the city limits, beyond which one is forbidden to walk on Shabbat.  "Acher", the apostate, realizes this and says:

"Meir, turn back. I have measured the distance we have walked by the paces of my horse, and we have reached the Shabbos limit. Beyond here, you are forbidden to walk."

Meir replied: "You too turn back."

The invisible boundary is not just the border of the city. It is symbolic of the line between two worlds: faith and heresy, Judaism and disaffiliation. Elisha ben Abuya, momentarily more sensitive than his disciple to Shabbat's sanctity, tells Meir that he must turn back.  Meir, instantly seizes on the fact that his teacher has just revealed that Judaism has not yet deserted him, begs Elisha to turn back, and return to his heritage.

Elisha replies with a staggering acknowledgment of his personal tragedy:

"! cannot turn back," says Elisha. "One day I was riding on my horse. It was Yam Kippur, which in that particular year fell on Shabbos.  I was roaming behind the Holy of Holies, when I heard a heavenly voice saying: "Turn back to me, 0 lost children, except for Acher ... "

Thus, Elisha concluded, G-d forgives all who repent, with one exception: Elisha ben Abuya. I, says Elisha, who was a Jewish leader, betrayed the Jewish community.  I, who knew so much and yet sinned so much, caused great damage. For me, there is no way back.

This was his tragic fate. According to most accounts, he never repented.

What is the message of this story? Are we to understand that Elisha in fact heard and understood the heavenly voice correctly? Did the voice from heaven contradict one of the key concepts of Juda­ism and Jewish law, which states that the power of repentance is never taken away from us?

Furthermore, if G-d did not want Elisha to repent, why did He communicate with him at all?  And why did the heavenly voice begin with words of love and encouragement "Turn back to me, O lost children," and end with the fearful decree "except for Acher"?

The key to the Talmudic narrative lies in understanding to whom the heavenly words were di­rected. How did G-d call the wayward sage? By Elisha ben Abuya, his real name, or by Acher, his pseudonym?

The answer is this: “Turn back to me, O lost children" was certainly directed to Elisha ben Abuya. The Divine Presence was pleading with him to return. The sharp "except for" was to Acher.  G-d meant to challenge Elisha to cast off "Acher," the Other One, the foreign personality, the false identity. What G-d was saying to him is that "You are not Acher."  The source of your conflict stems from the fact that you have identified your essence as "Acher;'  Sure, the human is filled with con­tradictions; sometimes our faith goes through a crisis. That is the story of life in a difficult world. The tragedy is when we begin to identify the wrong we have done with our essence; when we replace our souls with the identity of "Acher;'

"Turn back to me, O lost children, except for Acher." Meaning: Come to me O lost child, leave Acher behind! You are not Acher. You are my beloved child; stop thinking of yourself as "Acher"

Sadly, Elisha made a mistake. He thought that he and Acher were one and the same, and conse­quently could never make peace with himself.

That same heavenly voice that spoke to Elisha ben Abuya on Yom Kippur calls to each Jew on Yom Kippur, saying: You are not held captive by the past; you can begin again. Return my child. G-d never gives up, never despairs. G-d has faith in us. It is that faith that makes Yom Kippur possible. There could be no concept of repentance. Teshuvah, unless we believed that whatever wrong we have done, when we turn to G-d with a broken heart, G-d gives us another chance. Others may lose faith in us. We may lose faith in ourselves, as Acher did. But G-d never loses faith. However many times we stumble, G-d lifts us and lets us begin again.

There is more though - why did Acher specifically choose to ride his horse on the holiest place, the Holy of Holies, on the holiest day, Yom Kippur? Why not just go to the equivalent of a cafe in Tel Aviv?

His actions disclosed that he still believed in G-d, so the heavenly voice was a call to his heart. Recognize your true self, Elisha, "Turn back to me, O lost child."

We may reject G-d but G-d never rejects us. We may be his rebellious children, but he is our ever-accessible parent. Thus, in the Talmud, G-d's call to Elisha ben Abuya becomes a majestic truth about the human condition. G-d never gives up on us, because He never ceases to believe that whatever bad we may have done, we can fix it and rise above it in the future. However lost, Hashem does not cease to believe that one day we will find our way back to Him. In that aware­ness, we find strength greater than ourselves lifting us up when we stumble, inspiring us in the midst of depression, believing in our soul's potential more than we believe ourselves.

The Israeli General and Defence Minister Moshe Dayan was a secular Jew, and profoundly so. On June 8th 1967, during the Six Day War, the Western Wall was liberated. As Dayan approached the Kotel, tears came to his eyes. An Israeli newsman asked him, "General Dayan, Why are you crying? Are you a born again Jew? This wall means nothing to you." Dayan responded, "Yesterday I was the most secular Jew in Israel. Tomorrow I will be the most secular Jew in Israel. But today I am as holy as the holiest Jew in Israel"

On this Day of Days we too are holy. On this day, our soul is calling out to US, to nourish it, to empower it, to begin anew.

So let us make some changes, start with something, anything ... pick a mitzvah, anyone and deter­mine now starting right here, this is where it will begin. Say to yourself, "This is where I am pre­pared to make a change in my life, a change for the better, a change for more spirituality, a change for more Yiddishkeit,"

Because on this Day of Days, if we truly listen, we will hear the heavenly voice, gently calling us to turn back, to come home.

Neilah is a special, very moving, very spiritual time.  It is the time just before the closing of the gates, the last opportunity to seize the moment.  Let’s use this next hour to really open our hearts and minds to G-d, each in our own way, whilst those gates still remain open.