Can anyone guess who said these words?
“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You pay tithes of mint, dill, and cumin. But you have disregarded the weightier matters of the law: justice, mercy, and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former.”
Glad no one knew who said that. They were said by Matthew, one of the disciples of Jesus. But the truth is, those words could have been said by many Jews. How often do I hear people ask, why is Judaism so obsessed with details of minutia? Who cares? Would we not be better off if we focused on “the weightier matters” such as faith, justice, mercy?
If Matthew were preaching right outside this shul, how many of us would follow him?
I imagine the people who would be most inclined would be the many people in this shul who just finished learning a full tractate of the Talmud. They, who spent hours listening in to the debates of Abaya and Rava, who argued about the finest of details, those people would be the first to say, “You know, Matthew, you have a point there. Why did my head need to spin for hours on end with details about an ox and a pit? Would those hours not have been better spent studying inspirational literature that just encourages me to be a better person?”
If Matthew were preaching right outside this shul, you know how I would respond?
I’d ask CSS to call the police and get him off our property.
Just kidding.
This is what I’d respond to him:
“Matthew, I agree, us Jews sometimes get so caught up in the details that we lose sight of the bigger picture. A few years ago, I was visiting a shul and sat down in a vacant seat. A few more minutes later, someone walked in and kicked me out of the seat. It is my “Makom kavuah,” he told me. There is a law that one should have a set seat to daven in. What this person forgot is that the reason we have such a law is that we are trying to emulate our forefather, Avraham, who had a set place to pray. He was also a paragon of kindness. I have a feeling he would never in a million years kick me out of his seat in shul. So, Mathew, I feel you. But just because we sometimes lose sight of the forest, doesn’t mean the trees are not important.”
“Matthew, I imagine you watched the State of the Union address last night. I am sure you noted when President Biden spoke about a Two-State solution. You were probably wondering what happened to the Romans and who these Palestinians were, but that’s a discussion for another time. When the President said he believed in a Two-State solution, that is a big idea, and it could mean so many things. He could mean that he is going to pull aid from Israel until there are two states. Or he could continue to add right-wing hardliners on his list of no-entry to the US. He could also mean that he will continue to support Israel with aid and is just voicing a dream of ultimate peace with the Palestinians to give something to those in his party who are opposed to his support of Israel. The details, Matthew, they matter a lot. Yes, we don’t want to lose the forest for the trees. But a forest without any trees is not a forest.”
But there’s more. I don’t know how long Matthew has been time-traveling, but assuming he was around two months ago, he may have noticed some headlines about a plane that lost its door in mid-flight. It was an excellent plane, engines were in perfect condition, the cabin was comfortable and modern. It just had a bolt that wasn’t properly installed. Just one bolt! Is it such a big deal? Yes, it is because details matter. A lot.
We just read a parsha filled with details! Does it really matter if the dimensions of the Ark were two amos or two and a half amos? Does it really matter? Apparently, it does. You may reject the Oral Law, but this is scripture, Matthew!
Or perhaps if I would try to send an email to Matthew and I would send it to Matthew@Apostlecom, and I would forget that little period before the word com. Is that really such a big deal?
You see the reason we don’t think it’s a big deal is because we don’t think that WE are a big deal. An airplane, we consider that to be a big deal. Navigating an email from my computer to yours on the world wide web, that’s a big deal. What a terrible misconception. Our every action IS a big deal. Our every word can create or destroy. Our every thought has power.
“I wonder, Matthew, if perhaps your religious worldview with human beings who are damned from birth who can only attain salvation with grace in some ways shades your view of those small details. Because I believe that we are created with a soul that is piece of G-d Himself. I believe that this soul is connected to the heavens and to the world around us. I believe that my every breath has the ability to dramatically change the course of the world. In my worldview, in a worldview in which I am charged with partnering with G-d, details matter a lot.”
Now Matthew was no slouch. We know from historical records that he preached to the Jewish community more than the other students. He likely spent time learning with the Sages like his teacher, Jesus. And so, I could hear Matthew conceding that yes, maybe details are important; you cannot paint a big picture without all the small strokes, fine. But why do we spend so much time studying texts that aren’t even relevant to us?
And all the people who made their way over to my side of the argument would slowly start making their way back over to Matthew. Leading the way would once again be the 137 people who just finished learning Bava Kama, and the dozens of people who have continued with Bava Metzia. Why are we doing this? If I find a cloak at the exact same time as someone else, I’d probably just let him keep it!
I’ll be honest, this question troubled me a lot when I was younger. I used to argue with my father that there was no point in learning Gemara with all the scenarios that were irrelevant. And to top it all off, I’d forget so much of what I learned. What was the point?
My father shared with me a Medrash in response to these questions that I’d like to share with you. It tells a story of a king and his two servants. They are each given a huge bucket and told to fill it up with water. The king leaves and the servants get to work. Immediately, they realize the buckets have a hole on the bottom. All the water they put in immediately leaves the bucket. One servant says, “Pff. I’m not going to waste my time.” He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through TikTok. The other servant takes small bucket after small bucket and keeps on filling the big bucket with water. Even though it all comes spilling out.
A few hours later, the king returns. He turns to the guy on his phone and asks him what he’s doing. He explains, “Your Majesty, you likely didn’t realize but the bucket, it has a hole in it. I saved my energy for a more important job. How can I serve you?”
And the king shakes his head. “You fool! I wanted you to pour water into this bucket not to fill it, but to clean it!”
Yes, there are practical elements to the study of the Torah, but the impractical elements are just as important. And yes, we may forget a lot of what we learned, but it still is meaningful. By engaging with these texts, these texts which we believe to be sacred, by allowing the cleansing water of Torah to pass through us, whether the laws are relevant or not, whether we remember what we learned or forget a moment later, we transform.
Why is Torah sacred? Why are these laws that are irrelevant holy?
The Baal HaTanya explains that the laws of the Torah are our window into the thought process of G-d Himself. How do we connect to G-d? We can’t touch Him, we can’t feel Him. But we can try to understand Him. The Baal HaTanya writes a rather evocative idea: When we do a Mitzvah with our body it’s like we are hugging G-d. When we pray with our mouth it’s like we are kissing G-d. When we plug the depths of the Talmud, when we try to understand all the nuances of any particular law, practical or not, when we merge our minds with the mind of G-d, that is the deepest, most intimate connection we can have.
This here in my hands is a letter my wife wrote me while we were engaged. Allow me to read it to you:
Yeah right! You think I would read that to you?!
But let me tell you, you know how many times I read this letter? You know how much I analyzed every choice of adjectives? Do you know how much attention I paid to the curve of her writing?
So, Matthew, I am not sure if I have persuaded you, but I hope next time you give you sermon, you can appreciate that details matter a lot. They matter a lot because we matter a lot. Everything we do has significance – far more than an airplane. Details matter because without trees there is no forest, and without that little dot your email never leaves your outbox. And details matter because although people consider your religion the religion of love, we lay claim to a passionate, love-filled relationship with the Divine, and the Talmud is the greatest love letter ever written.