Timeless Torah

Once upon a time, long ago there lived two men. In those days, small minds measured success by the size of the lie a person could make others believe. In that world, overpopulated by imagery, he made himself the greatest idol of all. Everyone accepted the lies because it was the easy way - except one young man.
It was inevitable that these two would meet. The ancient despot was King Nimrod. The seeker of truth was Abraham.
While no one remembers the king, the world is indebted to Abraham: Twice each day Jews recite the credo by which their ancestor lived, “Shma Yisroel Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad - Hear O Israel, the L-rd is our G-d, the L-rd is One.”
These words are more than a prayer. They are the foundation of our faith and its propagation is our mission. While the idols that seduce modern man may be more subtle than the primitive icons of ancient history - yet they are idols all the same.
Two early cultures formed, in great part, Western civilization. Ancient Greece excelled in the visual arts; sculpture, architecture, and the theatre. Judaism labored in none of these areas, as its interests lay elsewhere. Still, Jewish and Greek ideas did come together in Christianity. Christian texts brought many Jewish ideas to the world (as noted by Maimonides), but it did so in Greek.
Rssult: when we speak about knowledge, we use metaphors overwhelmingly drawn from the world of the eye: insight, foresight and hindsight; of making an observation; visionaries. When we understand something we say, “I see”. These are linguistic vestiges of a culture essentially Greek.
In contrast, the Sages when drawing conclusions said shema mina or ta shema. To indicate that we understand, we use the phrase shomea ani, and when someone did not accept an idea, lo shemia leh. Tradition is called mipi hashemua. All of these are verbs of hearing. For the Greek, truth is what he saw. For the Jew, it is what he heard.
This difference is because of religion. The Jew conceived G-d as being outside of nature, as an Absolute Will to be heeded. Pagans saw G-d - or rather, the gods - in the visible nature: the sun, the storm, the earth, the sea.
The gods have changed in the twenty-first century. Today, when we think of the fate that lies in store for us, we are more likely to talk about the environment, the march of technology, the global market, and the international political arena. But today's secular city is as polytheistic as its predecessors. Both see reality as the clash of forces, each of which is fundamentally indifferent to the fate of mankind.
Judaism’s contention (as noted), placed G-d beyond the visible world, hence its prohibition against graven images. Nowhere is this more clearly spelled out than in the great encounter between G-d and the prophet Elijah.
There G-d reveals himself in speech. He created with words, and His greatest gift is Torah, His final word. This had huge consequences for Judaism, the greatest of which is that, G-d is not an impersonal concept or power, but a personal Presence, one to whom we speak in prayer. Hence the unique intimacy Jews feel with G-d. At times G-d asks us, as He asked Adam, “Ayeka, Where are you?” and at times we ask Him, “Where are you.” Because there is speech, there is relationship. Between two beings who can communicate with one another, there is connection. Words bridge the metaphysical abyss.
The non-visual character of the Hebrew Bible is obvious. One example: We have not the slightest idea of what our heroes looked like. Even when do we hear that Sarah is a beautiful woman, it is only so Abraham must view his wife through Egyptian eyes.
Bible does not have a word that means obey. Instead, it uses the word shema, which means, “to hear, to contemplate, to understand, to internalize.” There is no adequate translation.
When Joseph's brothers are accused of being spies, they say, “We saw how distressed he was when he pleaded with us for his life, but we did not listen.” They saw but did not hear - and not to be able to hear someone's distress is a deep moral failure. When Solomon asked God for the greatest gift He can bestow on him, he says, “Grant your servant a listening heart (lev shomea) to govern your people and to distinguish between right and wrong.” G-d always hears the unheard.
We can now also understand one of the strange teachings of the Rabbis: If a person is taking a walk while reciting Mishnaic teachings, and interrupts his studies to say, ‘How beautiful is that tree’, or ‘How fine is that field’, it is as if he had committed a mortal sin.
It is not that Judaism does not wish us to enjoy the beauties of nature. In fact, in the prayer-book there is a special blessing to be said on seeing trees in blossom. The sin is that such a person abandons the world of sound (Mishnah, i.e. oral Torah) in favor of the world of sight.
G-d listens, and asks us to listen.Thus when we say Shema, we cover our eyes - to shut out, if only for a moment, the world of sight, so that we can more fully enter the world of sound, the world not of Creation but of Revelation, not of G-d's work but of His word.

Shema Yisroel, Judaism's most eloquent testimony of its belief in monotheism is only in this week's Biblical portion, after four Books and forty years of wandering in the desert. If this verse pronounces our most cardinal belief, why does it begin with the words “Shema Yisroel - Hear O’ Israel”? Wouldn’t the phrase “Ani Ma’amin- I believe” have been a much better opening for expressing faith?
Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch: Shema, not merely to obey the word of G-d, but to listen, absorb and then to teach it to others. The next generation can then fulfill their Shema mitzvah of hearing, repeating and teaching, creating a never-ending cycle of Oral tradition.
This was the basis of G-d's love for Abraham, " I have loved him, because he commands his children and his household after him that they keep the way of Hashem."
Tradition was an integral part of our culture from the very beginning of our people. Even after the Sinaitic revelation, the Jews did not possess a complete written Torah. Their learning primarily consisted of Moses repeating what he had heard directly from G-d.
But all that changed as the people stood upon the shores of the Jordan. The written Bible was basically a fait accompli. Thus with the Law now reduced to the written word, Moses was fearful that the teachings would become rigid and mummified. (Note:The Karaites)
AriZal: the ayin is a vav attached to a nun. nun represents humility, the vav (whose gematria of six represents the Six Orders of the Oral Law) signifies Torah, which unites Heaven and earth as symbolized by its inherent design of a connecting hook. Only an individual who is unassuming, possessing the humility of the nun, is fit to acquire the superior vav, i.e., the Torah.
There is a second aspect of the ayin’s design. The ayin (which actually means eyes) is shaped like two eyes united at the nerve center (optical chiasma) that receives and interprets visual impulses, at the back of the head. Tefillin that are to be worn, “between your eyes.” In Jewish law, this is understood to mean just above the hairline. Viewed from above, this spot is literally at the mid-point between one’s eyes and the chiasma. The head tefillin is thus set directly between the physical eyes of the body and the eye of the brain, just as the Torah pre¬scribes.
Tzemach Tzedek: large ayin is in fact the antidote to the ayin of Psalm 80, “The boar of the forest - miyaar- מיער ravages it (Israel).” The ayin is slightly raised. Rashi: this suspended ayin indicates that if the Jews are righteous, the ayin will be transformed into an alef, so that the new word reads - מיאר meaning “river.” So while a boar in a forest is certainly dangerous, a boar in a river can’t swim, and is thus rendered harmless. (Note: this suspended ayin occurs at the exact mid-point of the Book of Psalms.)
Maharsha: ayin represents the ayin of Eisav, עשו and his progeny Amalek, They attempt to “cool down” the Jews’ passionate quest for G-dliness. The large Ayin expresses our unconditional acceptance of the yoke of G-d. That commitment thus transforms the ayin of indifference into the ayin of the Shema, which is our passion for G-dliness.
Hagaddah: Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah’s, “I am like a seventy-year-old man.” Jewish mysticism teaches that each of us harbors seven general emotions. Each one of these seven traits in turn contains ten distinctive nuances. The number seventy (the gematria of ayin) therefore represents one who is in total control of his emo¬tions. Only after reaching this level, is one fit to lead others. Mitzrayim (Egypt), also means constraints and limitations. A leader is meant to guide his people out of these limitations. Rabbi Elazar had attained the great Ayin.
Each morning as we recite the Shema we should focus on our own ayin, and ask ourselves, “How much inner control do we have? Have we turned the ayin our Eisav into the nun of humility and the vav of Torah? So even though we use our hand to cover our eyes doesn’t mean we should be blind to the lessons of the Shema!