Summary of Never-Ending Story Course 9 | October 31, 2022

Mitch Chefitz & Adam Gindea

(The summary is written by Mitch with inclusions from Adam.)

Every story is a mystery. The mystery is: “Okay, we’ve heard a story. Where do we go from there?”

Mitch shared that he learned this from his children, who were never satisfied with one story at bedtime. Each night they demanded a continuation, so Mitch learned to continue the story of the day before.

We have a simple process. We choose a story at random from Buber’s Tales of the Hasidim. It’s important that we choose at random. Adam and I don’t know our starting point, so we — those attending in person and those on Zoom — all begin at the same place.

The story that we chose last week was Buber’s story “The New Heaven.”

When the Rabbi of Rizhyn was a child, he was once walking up and down in the yard on a Friday toward evening time, when the Hasidim had already gone off to pray. A Hasid went up to him and said: “Why don’t you go in? The sabbath has already begun.”

“The sabbath hasn’t begun yet,” he replied.

“How do you know that?” asked the Hasid.

“On the sabbath,” he answered, “there always appears a new Heaven, and I can’t see any sign of it yet.”

That’s the complete story as it appears in Buber, but obviously it is not complete. There has to be a question. The Hasid has to ask the boy, “What sign are you looking for?” That leads to the broader question: “How do you know when Shabbat begins?”

So, last week we divided into pairs to learn the story more deeply. We returned with different responses. We learn when Shabbat begins from the calendar that tells us when sunset is. Or we learn when it begins from examining the nature of light, since Shabbat ends and begins with a mixture of light. And then there was a very different answer: My father would come home just in time for Shabbat. So Shabbat begins when my father comes home.

Those were all different answers. They were all correct. What lends itself best to the continuation of Buber’s story?

When the Rabbi of Rizhyn was a child, he was walking up and down in the yard toward a particular time — toward Shabbat, in anticipation of Shabbat. One of the Hasidim questions him, “Why don’t you go into the shul?” The child was busy looking down the road, and says, “I’m looking for a sign that Shabbat has begun.” “What is the sign you are looking for?” “I’m looking for my father. He always comes home just in time for Shabbat. When he comes home, it’s like heaven, and I know Shabbat has begun.”

We took a half dozen minutes to divide into hevruta groups to discuss the story that evolved from last week’s session.

We came back together with a chant and collected responses. We noted that the comments from the week before represented different points of view — from keva to kavanah — from what is fixed to what is feeling. Shabbat begins on the one hand at 18 minutes before sunset to on the other hand when my father comes home.

Another way stories continue is with the phrase “That story reminds me … ”

Last week our Buber story reminded Adam of the story of the two rabbis who wondered if they could bring down Shabbat on Tuesday. They did all the Shabbat rituals, and indeed it felt like Shabbat. So they questioned their rebbe and learned that Shabbat is always there. The entire week moves toward Shabbat. But we observe Shabbat on the seventh day and so maintain the integrity of our community. Not only that, we established the notion of the Sabbath for all of Western civilization. Were it not for our Shabbat, we would have no weekend.

The notion that Shabbat is always present ready to be brought down at any moment led to sharing the definition of This World and The Next World — olam ha-zeh and olam ha-bah — in the Hasidic sense. It isn’t that the next world comes into being only after this world ceases to exist; the next world is adjacent and always available, with constant communication between the two worlds.

Buber has collected these stories and presents them encapsulated in freeze-dried form. We take them out and immerse them in our fellowship, a fluid fellowship, and they begin to expand. Each of us has a say in that process. The result is a story never told before.

From didactic teaching we might learn, but one has to be at a particular level to acquire the learning. A story, however, sticks at all levels. Adam shared that that might be why we have so many stories in the narrative portions of Torah.

We then chose a new story from Buber to see where it might lead us. We chose Volume II, p. 225, and a story titled “The Smith,” about Yaakov Yitzhak of Pzhysha, a rabbi most often referred to simply as The Yehudi (The Jew).

When Rabbi Yaakov Yitzhak was young and had board and lodging in the house of his father-in-law, his next-door neighbor was a smith. The smith got up very early in the morning and struck hammer on anvil until the sound roared like thunder in the ears of the sleeping youth. Yaakov Yitzhak woke up early and thought: “If this man tears himself away from sleep so early for worldly work and worldly profit, shall I not be able to do the same for the service of the eternal God?”

The following morning he rose before the smith, who, as he entered his smithy, heard the young man reading in a low tone. This irritated him: “There he is at work already, and he doesn’t need to! I certainly won’t let a fellow like that get ahead of me!” On the following night he got up before the Yehudi. But the young rabbi took up the challenge and won the race. In later years he used to say: “Whatever I have attained I owe first and foremost to a smith.”

Again we separated into small groups for discussion. When we returned together we collected insights.

Mitch read the story sentence by sentence, pausing for insights and questions:

When Rabbi Yaakov Yitzhak was young and had board and lodging in the house of his father-in-law, his next-door neighbor was a smith. The smith got up very early in the morning and struck hammer on anvil until the sound roared like thunder in the ears of the sleeping youth.

Question: It doesn’t specify which youth. Might it have been a different youth?

Response: Not likely. This refers to the Yehudi as a young man. We have two players in this story…rather three players – the young Yehudi, the smith, and the older Yehudi reminiscing.

Question: Is there an annoyance that comes from the noise of the smith, or something else?

Response: The following sentence suggests it is something else. The Yehudi seems jealous of the zealousness of the smith. If the Yehudi is annoyed, he is annoyed with himself.

Question: Why is the Yehudi making the assumption the smith is involved in only worldly work?

Response: It may well be a false assumption.

Yaakov Yitzhak woke up early and thought: “If this man tears himself away from sleep so early for worldly work and worldly profit, shall I not be able to do the same for the service of the eternal God?”

This presents a problem. The Yehudi may be libeling the smith and aggrandizing himself. He is imagining himself to be superior to the smith.

The following morning he rose before the smith, who, as he entered his smithy, heard the young man reading in a low tone. This irritated him: “There he is at work already, and he doesn’t need to! I certainly won’t let a fellow like that get ahead of me!” On the following night he got up before the Yehudi. But the young rabbi took up the challenge and won the race.

What is missing is a conversation between the young Yehudi and the smith. The contest cannot go on forever. At some point they must have shared some words. Such words might become part of a continuing story.

In later years he used to say: “Whatever I have attained I owe first and foremost to a smith.”

Question: Why does it say “a” smith rather than “the” smith. The older Yehudi is not saying he learned so much from this young man as he did from the profession of this young man.

And therein we have a never-ending story.

We might recast this in the framework of a teaching for the Days of Awe, to convey the process of repentance, because the Yehudi in libeling the Smith and aggrandizing himself needs to do teshuvah.

Before the Days of Awe the Yehudi gathered his students to share a personal story.

Once when I was young and living with my in-laws, I was awakened by the hammering of a smith. At first I was annoyed, but then I thought, “He is involved only in worldly things and rises so early to make a profit. I am involved in service of the Holy One. Should not I rise even earlier?” And so I did.

But the smith saw I was up before him, and the next day he got up earlier still, and so it went, back and forth. Who would be up first to hammer or to voice words of learning?

Finally, neither of us were getting any sleep. We stopped and looked at each other and asked each other what it was we were doing. I said,“I am in service of God. I serve God by learning Torah and immersing myself in prayer.” The smith’s answer astonished and humbled me. He said, “Do you imagine I am not also in service of God. I don’t have the mind to learn Torah, but I have the skill to hammer iron and reshape it in the service of the Holy One. Why do you imagine your service of God is any more important than mine?”

At that moment I realized my transgression and asked forgiveness. After that, the sound of his hammering became music to my ears and reinforced the intensity of my learning.

So, whatever I have been able to accomplish since that experience I owe to a smith. Wherever I go, I see Jews in service to their God, whatever it is they might be doing.

Adam asked: “Who is waking up whom?” This might relate to the commandment to hear the shofar. The commandment is to hear, not to blow the shofar. To hear means to be awakened. If this is a story for the Days of Awe, the hammering of the anvil is akin to a tekiah — a shofar blast — to awaken the soul. Perhaps this awakening was the Torah the blacksmith had to share.