Seeing Big!

Who remembers “the dress” from – believe it or not – a decade ago?

In 2015, a photograph of a dress became a viral internet sensation when viewers disagreed over whether the dress was colored blue and black or white and gold. (It was confirmed to be blue and black.)

People can see the exact same thing differently. Like a Rorschach test in which the identical ink blot can evoke all sorts of perceptions. Each of us can perceive the very same thing in a very different way, but first we must open our eyes and really see.

“See, this day I set before you blessing and curse.” (Devarim 11:26)

Moshe is about to explain the blessings and consequences that are inherent to Torah and Judaism. He does not say, “Listen” or “Prepare to understand.” He says, “See.” Why?

It is through sight that we develop our unique perspective of the world around us. Moshe wants us to see. Really see. We need to see what’s in front of us. See all around. See beyond what is possible.

Seforno comments that Moshe specifically wants the Jews not to settle for seeing only “the middle ground” of what seems possible like so many other nations. Good enough isn’t always good enough.

See big.

The Talmud (Berachot 48a) tells of young Abaye and Rava during their formative years.

Abaye and Rava were sitting before their teacher, Rabbah.
Rabbah said to them, “Whom do we bless?”
They both answered, “To the Merciful One.”
Rabbah asked, “And where does the Merciful One dwell?”
Rava pointed to the roof beams.
Abaye went outside and pointed toward the sky.
Rabbah said to them, “You will both be rabbis.”

It may sound like the origin of the children’s song “Hashem is here, Hashem is there,” but the story teaches us a lot about how we should see the world around us.

Rav Kook explains that the students’ answers reflected their unique outlooks. Rava was inclined toward diligent Torah study and seeking every truth through its defined details. Even God had a location in which to be found. Abaye, however, strove for breadth of knowledge through an understanding that reaches beyond boundaries. His inner nature drove him to express the stirrings of his soul, by going outside and pointing to the heavens to try and pinpoint a limitless God.

Moshe’s directive for us to “See” is a call to expand our line of sight, our field of vision, or perception of the possible. The dress is blue and black AND white and gold.

This week, Rabbi Berel Wein passed away. Rabbi Wein was a uniquely impactful Rabbi, teacher, and historian whose work, perspective, and voice profoundly influenced generations. After a brief stint as a lawyer, he served as rabbi in Miami Beach and then served as a senior executive at the OU before moving to Monsey to found a shul and a yeshiva. He moved to Jerusalem in 1997, where he was rabbi of Bet Knesset HaNasi and a Rebbe in Ohr Sameach, while lecturing all over the world. Rabbi Wein was a prolific author whose teachings are always relevant and entertaining. In particular, he made Jewish history come alive, and he insisted that literacy is the key to Jewish continuity.

He once told a student’s son, “[Y]our assignment is to read. Read as much as you can. Don’t be afraid of the facts…There’s not one fact – scientific or social – that can be used to deny the existence of the Divine Providence in the world. The religious world is afraid of the facts, so they create their own fantasy world, superstitions and all sorts of things.”

Rabbi Wein had vision. He saw big.

While a rabbi in Miami Beach, one of the largest Reform temples in the United States was across the street from his shul. Their rabbi was a former European yeshiva student, and he and Rabbi Wein were friends and occasionally studied together.

One Erev Pesach at 4:00 in the afternoon, the Reform rabbi called Rabbi Wein with a last-minute request. “Berel, when you say ‘let all who are hungry come and eat” during the Seder, do you really mean it? My son just graduated Brown University and was accepted to Harvard Law School. He currently has little to do with Judaism, but he just decided to come home for Pesach and refuses to attend our synagogue seder. He says he’ll only attend a family Seder. Can you host him?”

Rabbi Wein said yes, and the young man joined his family’s Seder, which lasted until 1:30 in the morning. It had a big impact on him. After that Seder, he decided not to go to Harvard Law School, and, instead, he went to Hebrew Union College and became a Reform rabbi. The young man remained in touch with Rabbi Wein even after he became a Reform rabbi in a sizeable congregation.

One year, shortly after Yom Kippur, Rabbi Wein received a call from the young rabbi, who needed advice. His Reform congregation had an 85-year-old tradition not to use lulav and etrog on Sukkot. They just didn’t do it. That was their “reform.” He had convinced some of the younger members to “reform” THAT reform, and they ordered 35 sets of lulav and etrog. The Ritual Committee found out about this “rebellion” and wanted to thwart it. They said that the congregation wouldn’t be more religious than the Orthodox who wouldn’t be using Lulav and Etrog that year since the first day of Sukkot was Shabbat.

The Temple only had one day of Sukkot, so Shabbat was the only possible day to use them. The young Reform rabbi’s question to Rabbi Wein was: Can we take the Lulav and Etrog in the Temple on Shabbat since this would be the only chance.

Rabbi Wein replied: “Before I tell you my opinion, I want to know what you told the ritual committee.”

The Reform rabbi said, “I told them that the Orthodox have Shabbos and, therefore, they don’t need the lulav and esrog. But, here in the Reform Temple, we don’t observe Shabbos, so, at least, we should have a lulav and etrog.”

Rabbi Wein responded, “I couldn’t have said it any better.”

He added the following postscript when recounting the story in his book, Nostalgia for Eternity:

“The Reform rabbi’s logic matches that of the medieval Rokeach (#201) that one of the reasons we do not blow the shofar on Shabbat is because Shabbat itself is a sign. If a Jew has Shabbos, he doesn’t need anything else, and he can do without shofar. Applying that logic to this case, the Reform Temple didn’t have Shabbos, so they could use another symbol of the holiday. Let them take the lulav and etrog on Shabbat.”

Seeing big doesn’t mean pining for the impossible, seeking to change everything, or breaking boundaries. Seeing big means trying to expand our horizons: What more can we do? Which new mitzvah should we try? Which Jewish neighbor do we invite to Shul or for Shabbat? How can we be more helpful to those in need, our Shul, or our community?

Let’s see…