Michael Davidow's Blog: The Henry Bell Project - Posts Tagged "canaan"
Milk and Honey
“Life has no sense of human frailty. So when it taps your shoulder, it’s heavy, and it hurts. If you haven’t noticed by now. But I don’t like ignoring that pain. I might not succeed, but I still aim for the heart of things. The fire that burns, while the world revolves around it. The burning bush itself. See?”
She shook her head. She was being honest.
Today marked the first full day of the Jewish holiday Shavuoth, also known (a little obscurely) as the Feast of Weeks.
Like many of Judaism’s original observances, Shavuoth is an amalgam of sorts. It came about when that austere faith carved by Moses from the hard stones of the desert– shockingly pure, ascetic, and demanding– came into contact with the agricultural cults of Canaan — priest-ridden, homely, and sympathetic to human needs. It celebrates both the grain harvest and the giving of the Torah to the Israelites at Mount Sinai; two in one blow. It celebrates both the high and the low, the stuff of the body and the stuff of the soul; it mingles the here and now with the spirit and the flame. The one can’t exist without the other, says this holiday. Revelation is made a human affair.
Which means, perforce, it’s a messy affair, too. And it’s the genius of the Jewish religion to accept that mess on its own terms. To talk of revelation, after all, is to aim at the core of man’s search for meaning, and man’s search for meaning has never been tidy. Judaism exalts the resulting struggle. It anticipates participation by forgiving all failure. It treats the plain futility of our efforts not as any rebuke to mortal ambition, but rather as the surest manifestation of the divine hand in our world.
SPLIT THIRTY doesn’t concern the grain harvest. But it does concern the nature of revelation. And politics. And advertising. The here and the now; the spirit and the flame.
‘“Well. See lots of things. Don’t you think?’ Kahn leaned back and addressed his apartment’s ceiling. She looked there, too. It was dark. This room’s lights were recessed, discreet, and concentrated in the corners. ‘They came to me for new school, which is funny, because I’m an old school guy.’”
Happy Shavuoth to Bertie and his clan– and to the many rabbis I have had the pleasure to learn from.
She shook her head. She was being honest.
Today marked the first full day of the Jewish holiday Shavuoth, also known (a little obscurely) as the Feast of Weeks.
Like many of Judaism’s original observances, Shavuoth is an amalgam of sorts. It came about when that austere faith carved by Moses from the hard stones of the desert– shockingly pure, ascetic, and demanding– came into contact with the agricultural cults of Canaan — priest-ridden, homely, and sympathetic to human needs. It celebrates both the grain harvest and the giving of the Torah to the Israelites at Mount Sinai; two in one blow. It celebrates both the high and the low, the stuff of the body and the stuff of the soul; it mingles the here and now with the spirit and the flame. The one can’t exist without the other, says this holiday. Revelation is made a human affair.
Which means, perforce, it’s a messy affair, too. And it’s the genius of the Jewish religion to accept that mess on its own terms. To talk of revelation, after all, is to aim at the core of man’s search for meaning, and man’s search for meaning has never been tidy. Judaism exalts the resulting struggle. It anticipates participation by forgiving all failure. It treats the plain futility of our efforts not as any rebuke to mortal ambition, but rather as the surest manifestation of the divine hand in our world.
SPLIT THIRTY doesn’t concern the grain harvest. But it does concern the nature of revelation. And politics. And advertising. The here and the now; the spirit and the flame.
‘“Well. See lots of things. Don’t you think?’ Kahn leaned back and addressed his apartment’s ceiling. She looked there, too. It was dark. This room’s lights were recessed, discreet, and concentrated in the corners. ‘They came to me for new school, which is funny, because I’m an old school guy.’”
Happy Shavuoth to Bertie and his clan– and to the many rabbis I have had the pleasure to learn from.
