World of the Sages: A taste of the world to come

As we step into a reality laden with physicality, we pray that the divine encounter in the beit midrash will accompany us on our journey.

By LEVI COOPER
At the conclusion of a study session, as the sages prepared to leave the beit midrash (study hall), they would offer each other parting blessings. The Talmud records one such blessing (B. Brachot 17a-b): "May you see your world in your life, and may your end be for the world to come and your hope for many generations. May your heart deliberate over understanding, may your mouth speak wisdoms and may your tongue bring forth song. May your eyelids make you look straight before you, may your eyes be enlightened with the light of Torah and may your face glow like the brightness of the sky. May your lips express knowledge and your insides rejoice in uprightness, and may your steps hasten to hear the words of the Ancient of Days, the Almighty" (see Daniel 7:9). Thus the sages would give voice to the lofty goal of employing various parts of the body in the pursuit of godliness outside the protective cocoon of the beit midrash. These parting words bespeak of hope for future interactions with our beloved texts. They express a desire that the study endeavor should not be left within the confines of the beit midrash but should radiate beyond the walls of the study hall. As we step into a reality laden with physicality, we pray that the divine encounter in the beit midrash with the texts of our tradition will accompany us on our journey, illuminating our existence as we travel through the travails of a world fraught with mundane stimuli. The opening of this parting blessing, however, is somewhat cryptic: "May you see your world in your life." What is described as "your world" that we aspire to experience during our own lifetimes? Some commentators suggested that this is a blessing for a life where all physical needs are satisfied. Thus the parting blessing would refer first to life in this world - "May you see your world in your life" - and then continue with good wishes for the future - "and may your end be for the world to come, and your hope for many generations" (Rashi, 11th century, France; Maharsha, 16th-17th centuries, Poland). One of the Spanish commentators offered a different approach (Ritva, 13th-14th centuries, Spain). He understood all the opening blessings to be referring to a reality that goes beyond our earthly existence: "When a person attains ultimate wisdom, it is akin to reaching the world of souls, for they are pure intellect. In this state the person attains a measure of the world of souls within his lifetime." The blessing should therefore be understood thus: May you see a portion of your world to come during your physical, earthly lifetime. The mystically minded halachist and hassidic master Rabbi Haim Elazar Shapiro of Munkatch (1871-1937) seemed to follow this second reading of the blessing. The Munkatcher Rebbe reported a custom of his ancestors, to avoid reciting the blessing instituted for a subsequent glass of wine that is from a better vintage than previous glasses (Shulhan Aruch OH 175). His father and predecessor in Munkatch, Rabbi Zvi Hirsch (1850-1913), would annually organize a special gathering that answered the most stringent halachic requirements to make this blessing over a subsequent glass of wine. This special gathering was held in his succa late on the second night of Succot. Each year at this assembly, Rabbi Zvi Hirsch would retell the story of Rabbi Haim Yehiel Meir Shapiro (ca. 1789-1848), the hassidic master known as the Seraph of Mogielnica in Poland. The Seraph once drank a cup of wine at the festive meal on Shmini Atzeret and announced that in the future we would have unparalleled spiritual enjoyment, all the prophecies would be fulfilled and we would even drink the wine of the creator at this gathering. Alas, what would be the importance of any beverage, even the wine of the Almighty, at that time? "Therefore," continued the Seraph, turning to the Almighty, "let us sample now the taste of the Creator's wine while we are still in bitter exile in this world." After these words, the Seraph sipped from the cup of wine he held in his hand. The Munkatcher Rebbe returned to his father: "Thus my father acted for a number of years before his passing. Each year on the second night of Succot at the appointed hour he would recount the words of the Seraph. In the year 1913, on the second night of Succot around that very time, my father passed away." The Munkatcher Rebbe continued, reporting about the final hours of the rabbinic pietist, Rabbi Amram Hasida (d. 1830), who in 1816 moved from Hungary to the Land of Israel: "Moments before the passing of Rabbi Amram Hasida, he recited a blessing with the Almighty's name stating that he had savored the taste of the world to come." Other sources record the text of Rabbi Amram's unique benediction: "Blessed are you God, our Lord, king of the universe, who enlightens His servants with the light that has been hidden since the six days of creation." The Munkatcher Rebbe concluded these tales, with a cryptic mention our talmudic passage: "This reflects the aspect of 'you will see your world in your life,' and those who understand will understand." The Munkatcher Rebbe alluded to the fact that the Seraph, Rabbi Amram Hasida, and his father had in some way tasted the sweetness of the world to come while still in this world. A taste of the world to come may be beyond the grasp of many of us; when we drink wine we taste the essence of the grapes, the meticulous caring of the vintner. The Munkatcher Rebbe may be suggesting that experiences of this world have a further dimension. It is that divine spiritual plane that we seek. Thus when we enjoy kiddush wine every Friday night and on festivals, we hope to taste not only wine; we also aspire to savor the spiritual flavor of a divine existence, even as we remain in this world. The writer is on the faculty of Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies and is a rabbi in Tzur Hadassah.