Are the Jewish people too close to God?

The greatest drama of human history was about to unfold.

It had been 2,500 years since man’s first disobedience and since humanity was expelled from Eden. During this dark period, God’s presence was obscured by a hostile world of violence and immorality. Finally, His chosen people was about to welcome Him back into the human realm.

God had liberated us from Egyptian tyranny and had provided us with safe and dry passage through a watery ocean bed. By worshiping a golden idol, we betrayed our loyalties and were very close to forfeiting our destiny. Responding to our fervent prayers, God relented and was now prepared to descend into our realm and lodge His presence in a human-crafted abode. Excitement and anticipation filled the barren desert dunes as history was about to change.

Suddenly, the unexpected occurred. God’s presence flooded the inner chamber of the Tabernacle, sealing it against human entry. The greatest religious project in history concluded with Moses, the greatest man to ever live, standing outdoors, unable to breach the house of God. At the conclusion of this long-awaited reunion between man and God, man is left outside in the cold, distant from God.

Two modes 

Our relationship with God is braced by two contrasting mentalities. Our souls reach out to the great beyond, searching for a connection with our creator in heaven. We compile a multi-layered relationship with God through various religious experiences: We study His word and exercise His commandments. In moments of weakness, we petition Him in prayer; and in moments of triumph, we express our gratitude. We partner with Him in re-landscaping a fallen world into a better place. We carve our own moral personalities based on His example. There are many avenues through which we seek a relationship with God.

Though God isn’t human, we overlay human relationships onto our relationship with Him, lending it greater passion. For example, we view Him as our father or sometimes as our husband, even though He is neither. By simulating human interactions with God, we craft an emotional relationship with Him.

Beyond comprehension

Despite our best efforts at building that relationship, God lies beyond human comprehension. As no word found in the human vocabulary aptly describes Him, He remains indecipherable. To paraphrase Isaiah 55, “His thoughts are unlike our thoughts and His ways are unlike our ways.” Religion demands submission to an unknowable being, forever unfathomable and forever lying beyond the realm of human experience. As much as we try to know Him, we know that we cannot fully know Him.

These two complementary modes to our relationship with God form a powerful combination. We attempt to better understand Him, while realizing that we are chasing an elusive unknown. Religion may not always make sense, but we are nonetheless locked in a relationship with a higher being whose logic defies human comprehension.

Despite our efforts to draw Him into our world and into our lives, we, like Moses, stand outside, unable to penetrate the mystery. This duality lends Judaism its potency and its durability. Knowledge and mystery. Rationality and trust. Visibility and fog. Entering and remaining outside. Close but distant.

The distance of exile

The jagged revolutions of Jewish history toppled this delicate calibration between distance and nearness. As the Jewish exile was prolonged, the Jewish world turned darker, and God appeared ever more distant. The course of Jewish history baffled us, and ancient biblical promises became obscured during excruciating periods of Jewish suffering. During the long exile, God’s plan for His people was veiled, and His presence was hidden as hatred and discrimination devoured our people. During exile, Jewish faith was built on a platform of mystery, and God seemed very distant.

Hassidism

In the 18th century a bold movement, determined to bridge the ever-growing distance between God and His people, stressing that we were forever bound to a God, though invisible, continued to drive our historical arc. The Hassidic movement underscored the great love between God and His people, a love which could outlast the dark tunnel of Jewish exile. God still had a larger plan for Jewish history, but its trajectory wasn’t always obvious. The Hassidic revolution rescued Jews from historical depression, restoring faith in a God who appeared distant but was closer than anyone could imagine.

Turning the tables of history

In the past century, history shifted, and with it our relationship with God was transformed. In 1948 the heavens parted, as our state and our sovereignty were restored amid great miracles. After thousands of years of radio silence, God was clearly speaking to us, and He felt closer than He had been in thousands of years.

Are we too close? Is there actually an issue of being too close to God?

Knowing the ways of God

Elated with redemptive fervor, many religious Jews feel too close with God and exude unrealistic and unhealthy confidence, claiming to “precisely” know God’s will. Because the tables of history have turned in our favor, some religious Jews feel too confident in their relationship with God. We know exactly what He wants, and we can adopt policies based on that certain knowledge.

Seventeen years ago, Israel willfully disengaged from our Gaza settlements, attempting to advance greater peace. Unfortunately, hopes for peace were cruelly dashed, and we were left with a terrorist state on our border.

In the lead-up to this traumatic event, many Orthodox rabbis assured us that this disengagement would not, and could not, happen. God could not possibly allow His chosen people to be evicted from His chosen land. Many rabbis issued a well-known Hebrew guarantee of “hayo lo tihye,” assuring that this calamity would not happen. God would not allow it. After all, in the modern State of Israel, religious people know God’s will.

I was surprised that such a brash guarantee was issued. Eighty years earlier, God allowed the Holocaust and allowed six million to be murdered. No human imagination can possibly understand that horror, yet God allowed it to happen. If God can allow a holocaust to occur, He can also allow a Jewish government to relocate 8,000 Jews without loss of life. Sometimes God takes actions which the human mind can’t comprehend. For centuries we lived with this awareness, and we accepted harsh fates, even when they confused us. Now that we have returned to our land, we expect God’s will to always align with human understanding. It doesn’t always happen, and we shouldn’t gamble on divine will.

This episode wasn’t just troubling to me but was also troubling to many adolescent and young-adult Israelis still in the process of building their faith. They were assured that God would not allow this disengagement, but they woke up one August morning to discover that it had indeed occurred. Being assured of the divine will and discovering those assurances to be incorrect can destabilize faith. Sadly, many lost their faith.

We are close and we are far. We understand Him, and yet He remains a mystery. So it has been for thousands of years, and so it will remain. This is what makes our religion so robust. 

The writer is a rabbi at Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush, a hesder yeshiva. He has smicha and a BA in computer science from Yeshiva University, as well as a master’s degree in English literature from the City University of New York.