"For this commandment which I am commanding you today is not
beyond you and is not distant. It is not in heaven that you
might say: Who shall ascend to heaven for us and fetch it for
us that he will make us hear it so that we shall keep it? Nor
is it beyond the sea that you might say: Who shall cross the
ocean for us and fetch it for us and make us hear it so that
we shall keep it? Rather, this thing is very near to you, in
your very mouth and your heart to keep it."
Rashi explains that these verses speak about the Torah, which
is very near to us, while Ramban interprets these verses as
pertaining to the specific commandment of teshuva.
To us, it is unclear either way. Is it then so simple to
repent? Is it truly so accessible, attainable? Why, then,
don't we feel its closeness? Is it not difficult to repent
truly?
As for the interpretation that the above relates to the
Torah, itself, is that, too, so close? Why, then, does the
path to Torah seem so long and difficult?
This question, which probably disturbs every one of us, is
dealt with by HaRav Wolbe in Alei Shur. In order to
find that path which will bring it closer, he writes, we must
first clarify for ourselves the terms `close' and
`distant.'
The answer is: when we speak here of something being close,
we do not mean in the geographic sense [of feet or meters].
Rather, we are speaking in spiritual terms, of the Torah-
orientation which is ingrained within the person himself, in
his very soul. That spirituality is his very essence.
This is what the Ramchal writes in Derech Eitz Chaim:
Not like secular knowledge, the external sciences, which are
acquired facts or systems which a person can learn through
intellectual effort. The Torah is different; it is sacred.
Its reality reaches to the heavens and beyond. It is sublime,
and when a mortal delves into it on earth, its exalted light
illuminates his soul.
A barrier separates the Torah from other secular pursuits of
knowledge. Those are purely external, acquired by the
intellect through mental effort, whereas the preparation for
the acquisition of Torah is a propensity which already exists
within the soul. By means of Torah study, the soul awakens
from dormancy so that the intellect is able to readily absorb
its knowledge.
The Ramchal continues to explain that the Torah was
transmitted as a smoldering coal which needs to be pumped up
and blown into fire. In the same measure, the intellect is
equipped with latent powers to absorb and understand Torah;
but it must be stoked and coaxed from embers to flames. Man's
task is to nurse and kindle the coals to the point that they
can serve him.
Now the verses take on a broader meaning. "For it is very
close to you." Not that it is within hand's grasp, but that
it is already there! Where? In your very mouth and your
heart. When one applies oneself to Torah study, when he
toils, he will find what he is seeking, within himself, in
his very soul. He will discover an innate inclination to
comprehension of Torah and the path to tshuva. A
fact.
What then is the answer to the question we asked: Why does
everything seem to us so distant and unattainable? So
difficult? True, the evil inclination works full time within
us, but why is it so successful in separating us from Torah
and avoda to the point that we must constantly exert
ourselves in order to study and pray and repent?
Chazal reveal the secret to us. They expose a new facade in
the makeup of the yetzer hora. "There shall not be
within you a foreign god nor shall you bow down before a
strange power." What is that foreign god that resides
`within' the body of man? It is none other than the yetzer
hora" (Shabbos 105). This evil inclination has the
power of alienation. It distances us from spirituality, makes
us foreign to it, divorced from our souls. This is how
estrangement is developed towards the Torah and towards that
natural affinity towards our Creator which is ingrained in
us. We become dissociated, unmoved, desensitized, unconnected
to a natural love. Estranged and distanced!
But this thing is verily close to you. It is implanted in
your mouth and your heart. Yet you remove yourself from it,
deny it. Shun it. Because of the false, alien god within
you.
The continuation of Chazal's words there can provide a more
graphic example: R' Shimon ben Elozor says in the name of
Chilfa bar Agra, who said in the name of R' Yochonon ben
Nuri: One who rends his garments in a burst of temper, and
who smashes his vessels in his anger, and who scatters his
coins in his anger -- should be considered to you as an
idolater. For these are the wiles of the yetzer hora.
Today he tells you to do this and on the morrow, to do that,
until he tells you to go and worship false idols, and that
person does just that. Said R' Avin: What is the meaning of
the verse, `You shall not have within you a foreign god and
you shall not bow down before a strange power'? What is that
foreign god which is within a person? This can only be
referring to the yetzer hora.
Alienation and estrangement is reflected, expressed, in the
measure of anger. Once the wrath has subsided, a person is
shocked with the realization of how "not like himself" he
behaved during his act of temper. He was beside himself,
transformed into an entirely different, unrecognizable
person. This fact indicates that the yetzer hora is a
veritable false god within a person's body. It has the power
to alienate himself from himself, to metamorphose him. An
estrangement whose climax can lead all the way to idol
worship. What, then, is the conclusion which we must arrive
at? What can we do about it?
The answer to this also lies in the words of Chazal: "R'
Yochonon said: It is written, `And you shall make for Me a
golden crown-border. Zer is [usually] read with a
tzeirei vowel -- zeir. If he is meritorious, it
becomes a crown for him. If not, it is an estrangement --
zor" (Yoma 72). The answer is explicit and
bitter, concludes R' Wolbe. We were not deserving. Therefore,
we must purify ourselves -- lezakos -- in order to be
meritorious -- lizkos.
