Toxic Hebrew
For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief. Ecclesiastes 1:18 NIV
Wisdom – “The Sages promulgated the principle ‘Not the study of but the performance of mitzvot is the essence of virtue.’ ‘One whose wisdom is more abundant than his deeds—to what is he compared? To a tree whose branches are abundant but whose roots are few. A wind can come, uproot it, and overturn it . . . but one whose deeds are more abundant that his wisdom—to what is he comparable? To a tree whose branches are few but whose roots are abundant. All the winds in the world may blow against it, yet be unable to move it. And in the opinion of R. Huna, ‘Whoever engages exclusively in the study of Torah is like an atheist.’”[1]
Do these words describe you? Or me? I’ve compiled a lot of “wisdom” over my lifetime. I mean I’ve spent a lot of time digging into the texts, exploring the implications, pondering the grammar and lexical connections. I’ve read Heschel, Zornberg, Wilson, Young, Hoffman, Brown, and Paglia. I gave away four or five hundred books and I still have shelves full. According to the Sages’ analogy, I have lots of branches. From the outside you’d be impressed. But inside the swamp has not yet been drained. The roots are shallow, just below the water’s surface. Even a small tropical storm can blow me over.
Of course, I’m aware of this. That’s why the Sages’ comment is so challenging. “Just do it” is the essence of Hebrew religion. It doesn’t really matter if you don’t understand. Actually, you can believe that the mitzva is impossible (either logically or practically). But—just do it! Just do it anyway. While most Westernized religions operate on the basis of apologetics (give me a good reason and then I’ll decide), the religion of Israel is based on practice. Actions really do speak louder than words. In fact, actions have eternal significance.
But what about this enigmatic statement in Ecclesiastes? How can wisdom, a good thing, generate sorrow, a bad thing? Doesn’t this imply that it’s better to stay stupid? Maybe the Catholics were right. All we really need to do is memorize the catechism. Something in me revolts at this suggestion. I want to understand. What’s wrong with that? Ah, then I notice that Qohelet doesn’t say that much wisdom leads to much evil. He says it leads to much sorrow. In other words, the more I know, the worse I feel. How is that possible?
A little reflection provides the answer. As long as I remain ignorant (accidentally or purposefully), I won’t struggle with the enormous disparity between the world as God intended and the world as it is today. It’s hard not to think about the destruction of the environment, the extinction of species, the abuse of the poor, the degradation of society, the rise of greed, etc., etc. I can avoid all this by shutting out the world, but it’s getting harder and harder to do that. So, I can retreat to the panacea of religious eschatology. It will all be better later. The end-times are coming! Unfortunately, that sort of pie-in-the-sky-bye-and-bye answer doesn’t do much for the children who live under the bridge in Jakarta. Or for me. My internal sense of moral injury remains. Maybe knowing is really a kind of curse. Maybe Qohelet was right.
We’ll have to look deeper, I’m afraid. And since you’re reading this, you are already on the road of wisdom and sorrow. It’s too late to get off. Your mind has been polluted with toxic Hebrew. There’s no turning back. So let’s keep going, okay?
Topical Index: wisdom, sorrow, ḥokmâ, kaʿas, Ecclesiastes 1:18
[1] Abraham Heschel, Heavenly Torah as Refracted through the Generations, p. 3.
