From Dim to Darkness and into the Light
Chewing the Cud, Part 3
“Thou shalt remember the Lord, who did great and wonderful deeds in thee”
—Letter of Aristeas, 155
Relief washes over Zakah as she nears her village center. Clusters of folk busily prepare three sections of the communal sukkah that will serve as a gathering place for traditional prayers and wave offerings. This thatched booth will host the opening prayers upon entering the sukkah, the Hallel Psalms, the Ushpizin for honored guests, Kiddush, and of course, the waving of lulavim. Children sort and assemble the bouquets of palm, myrtle, and willow branches needed in each lulav. They enthusiastically chatter about apple tarts and fluffy raisin-filled challah bread, but not so much for the cauliflower salad! For the moment, all focus their attention on the joyous autumnal celebration—even Zakah.
The festive atmosphere in the company of others has calmed her. “Perhaps I am making more of it than I should,” she mutters. “It was just a large fox,” she reassures herself.
Sharing her garden delights, Zakah moves throughout the square. There is one, the chief rabbi, who sits at a distance, observing the festivities and general gaiety of his small shtetl here in the woods at the base of Mount Moriya. He shepherds this small community like a tender flock, knowing each of their concerns and questions about life, love, and all matters of Torah.
Attentively, he watches and considers and prays with kavanah. Indeed, “intention” defines his daily habits. Like a camel, who methodically chews and chews and chews, he meditates on the weekly Torah portions. He will not be rushed. It is a sign of wisdom, you see, or one who seeks it. He chooses timely midrashim—the sermon commentaries his heart alights upon.
Stroking his long but thinning white beard, he stands when Zakah greets him, offering moringa and bidens alba, which she knows will aid his aching joints and occasional stomach distress. He gratefully accepts, but today, holds her gaze. Shifting uncomfortablly from foot to foot, she nervously asks, “How are you feeling today, Rebbe?” Accustomed to the old speech of their European ancestors who came to this island to flee pograms of violent anti-Semitic uprisings, he politely acknowledges the title with a nod. His gaze, however, remains.
Turning to leave, Zakah bids the Rebbe, “Good day.” “Sit a while,” he calls after her. He is inviting her into his moment of introspection. Nervously, she returns to sit at a respectable distance. He hands her sassafras root, also good for ailing stomachs and hers is beginning to churn. Her once peaceful mood diminishes, but she accepts, carefully taking the licorice-like root so that their hands do not touch.
Red-faced with insecurity, Zakah nibbles away at the root hanging from her lips. After some moments, the Rebbe pauses to take the root from his mouth. Carefully choosing his words, “You seem distracted or something. I can’t quite see it,” he remarks. Sheepishly, she hopes to skirt a direct answer: “I’m not sure what you mean? This is my favorite time of year. The harvest is good. The air is warm for a time, and everyone is enjoying themselves.”
“That’s it! Everyone except you,” Rebbe says. His eyes are bright with understanding. “You move about but you haven’t joined in. I thought you favored making lulavim with the children; that is my first observation. But, you also tend to come earlier or later when the crowds are thinning.”
“Hmm,” she openly ponders. “You noticed, then,” replacing the root between her teeth. Tossing his spent twig, he tells Zakah a story:
There was once a wise servant, Aristeas, who served in the house of the presiding king over Egypt, Ptolemy II. The king reveled in his vast Alexandrian library for it was a marvel throughout the East. He sent for his royal librarian, Demetrius, to collect all of the wondrous books of wisdom throughout the known world, including the Jewish Scriptures. He then ordered that Hebrew translators be brought to court to translate the holy texts into Greek. With great pomp, it was done.
Posing as an inquisitive Gentile, Aristeas sends a letter to the librarian requesting that the Jewish High Priest, Eleazar, also provide written understanding of the Jewish Law.Zakah interjects, “Why did Aristeas ask for an explanation of Jewish Law?” Rebbe explained the history of pograms under other kings, forcing the Jews to cease practices under penalty of death. “Ah,” exclaims Zakah. “Aristeas was wise, indeed. Asking the High Priest to explain our halakhah, the beauty of our laws, and customs becomes evident!”
“Exactly,” confirmed Rebbe. “So I will continue.”
Eleazar happily expounds upon the merits of the Law, explaining that each contain hidden treasures. So, they do not constitute only do’s and don’t given by HaShem, but rather, they contain a wisdom to be searched out. Though Aristeas is secretly a Jew, he knows that once these treasures are revealed, others will see them as beautiful gifts given by the God of Israel.
For instance, Eleazar reveals the hidden wisdom in kashrut, the dietary laws. He uses the example of the law requiring meat eaten only from animals who have cloven hooves and chew their cud: “All cloven-footed creatures and ruminants quite clearly express, to those who perceive it, the phenomenon of memory. Rumination is nothing but the recalling of (the creature’s) life and constitution, life being usually constituted by nourishment. So we are exhorted through Scripture also by the one who says thus, ‘Thou shalt remember the Lord who did great and wonderful deeds in thee’” (Letter of Aristeas, 153-155).
Zakah and Rebbe sit in silent thought considering the story. Finally, Zakah tentatively offers, “So the treasure in kashrut, as well as other laws handed by HaShem, orders our ethics. We are to “ruminate” or “chew the cud” of Scripture, remembering every morsel of wisdom for a well-nourished life.”
“Well said,” exclaimed Rebbe. “In doing so, we reveal to the world the beauty of HaShem’s holy Law, inviting others to taste and see that the Lord is good.”
—Fin—