Timeless Torah

Was there ever another individual who had to overcome as much as he did? Was there ever a pupil who had advanced so far in his studies? A leader who had lost so much ground - for himself personally or for his people? A faith so tested?
I refer to the towering Talmudic Sage, Rabbi Akiva. Born into a family of converts, life seemed to offer not much more than what he had become - a lowly shepherd. Irrespective however of his societal handicap he married Rachel, the most eligible maiden in the country.
Ignorant and uneducated until the age of forty, he overcame that barrier too and was soon recognized as the undisputed Rabbi of his time. As a leader he proclaimed the dawn of the Messianic redemption, only to have that national dream shattered before his eyes. But still the most dramatic scene of Akiva’s life was the inhuman tortures he suffered for defying the might of Rome in teaching the word of G-d despite all Roman laws to the contrary.
Even the angels trembled at the horrific punishment meted out to the elderly Sage. The heavens themselves gave voice to their incredulity and queried, “Is this Torah and its reward?” And this question prompts another. Was there ever a person with more right to doubt, yet who remained unswerving in his loyalty to G-d?
In stark contrast is the figure of Elisha ben Avuya. Born into a wealthy, well-connected, prestigious family, doors were opened to him before he even knocked. Possessing a bright, inquisitive mind, Elisha was sent to the best teachers and there was every reason to expect great things of him.
But one day Elisha was walking past an orchard, when the owner of the field told his son to climb a specific tree which contained a bird’s nest. Upon reaching the nest the child was to send away the mother bird and take the eggs. The youngster did as he was commanded by his parent and thus fulfilled two mitzvot: honoring one’s father and sending away the mother bird. These two Biblically mandated actions have a reward attached to their performance, “So that your days may be prolonged.” Yet despite these assurances the young lad fell from the tree and expired.
Elisha ben Avuya was overcome with shock and exclaimed, “Where is the long life of this one?” From his perspective G-d had not kept his side of the bargain and the Sage became an apostate, known forever after as Acher, “the other one”.
This week’s reading of Eikev contains what has become the second paragraph of the Shema, while the first paragraph was found in last week’s Torah section. Although placed side by side to form the great document of Jewish faith, they present us with two almost contrary visions.
The first parsha sets forth an operative code of behavior. “You will love the L-rd your G-d with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.” This places upon man an absolute demand. No reasons are given for this mitzvah to love G-d. No promises of recompense are stated, but then again, no retribution is implied either. In philosophical parlance, such a commandment is referred to as categorical.
As Rabbi Akiva himself, just moments prior to giving up his life remarked, the phrase, “with all your soul,” means even if He takes away your soul, you must love G-d. This was not an empty boast or hyperbole, but the way Rabbi Akiva lived and ultimately died.
The second paragraph of the Shema however leaves us with the exact opposite connotation. This section too mentions the love of G-d, but allows itself to be strengthened by reason as well as sanctions. The very first word, “if you will listen,” and later on “lest your heart be deceived” indicates the possibility of alternative choices. Here the acceptance of mitzvot is delivered in a rather straightforward business manner. “If you listen...I will give rain....take care, lest your heart be deceived...and He will close the heavens and there will be no rain.”
Thus if the first section of the Shema speaks to the Rabbi Akivas of the world, the second addresses the Elisha ben Avuyas. Their faith is not deontological, but merely a result of expected consequences, appearing when they ought to be.
Can everyone aspire to the level of Rabbi Akiva? Yes. Will everyone reach it? No. But even if Elisha’s standard be the one we grasp, let us not discard it every time our calculations don’t materialize. Otherwise, we’re not even the second one on the totem pole of faith; we’re “the other one.”