Good afternoon. Torah Tuesday, our noontime session. As we begin a new go-round in the cycle of the weekly parasha, this Shabbat is called Shabbat Bereshit, based on the parasha that is read publicly, Bakar, which is called Bereshit. In Bereshit, we confront the beginning of history. Bereshit bara Elokim et hashamayim ve'et ha'aretz. In the beginning Hashem created shamayim, heavens, v'aretz, land, and then the Pratim (details) of what He created, day by day, and how these basic parts of what's called creation were put in place and started to function.
Of course, the star and the highlight is man himself, Adam HaRishon. It's an interesting concept brought forth by Rabbi Shimshon Pincus, whom I've been spending a lot of the last year studying. He mentions that today's world, or the world before you—the world before he passed away, not so long ago—it seems like he's been gone for a long time. Our generation has seen tremendous advances: science, technology, things you can't believe can be done with computers and clouds and artificial intelligence. But even more so, the way we travel, the way we communicate, the way we share information, has not gone in the normal cycle. The way life was for thousands of years has become quite different in the last 100, 150 years: cars, planes, radio, internet, cell phone, computer. And one of the amazing innovations, in summary, is that the world is in the palm of your hand. In real time, you could know the price of gold in Switzerland per ounce. In real time, you could watch a sporting event in Europe. In real time, you can communicate with anyone, anywhere on the planet. It's like a type of control of the whole world. And everything is within reach.
So it's a nice question you could ask: Why all of these tremendous developments? Why are they happening now? Why not 200 years ago? Why not 500 years ago? We've been on this planet 5,784 years. And for most of it, it was a horse and buggy, if you could afford one. It was a letter, if you could get it delivered. It was a face-to-face conversation, a thing of the past. Why did our generation merit something that, in the past, they couldn't dream about?
There's a fundamental rule of physics. In physics, Chazal (the Sages) also say it holds true in life. But in physics, the true nature of something is determined by its beginnings. For example, let's say you take the white and gray tiles people use today. They look like marble. They're all over the place. Basically, that type of formica, that type of plastic is petroleum-based. And no matter what you do to it, no matter how you create it, if you break it down to component parts, you're going to end up with petroleum. It started as petroleum. It was transferred into a certain type of plastic, which is another type of plastic, which is a different color plastic. But bottom line, if you break it down backwards, you end up with oil.
The same is true of the human being. Human beings have gone through changes—not the way they say, from a monkey, not the way they say, the Sheker (falsehood) of evolution, lo aleinu ba minan; our children should never even hear about it—but there have been a lot of changes from Adam HaRishon until our generation. We're not the same, but we're really basically the same stuff. When Adam HaRishon was created, it says in the Gemara, Chagigah, that he was from the earth to the heavens. His feet were on the ground and his head was in Shamayim. That's how tall he was, that's how tall he was. Another opinion was, no, he was from the most eastern point of creation to the most western point. He was broad. The Gemara says, well, which is it? Shamayim to the east or east to the west? Same thing. The Gemara answers: the same measures. It's essentially no different.
When Adam HaRishon sinned, we have a pasuk (verse), but Hashem took his hand, pressed down, and reduced this angelic creation called Adam HaRishon, who had his feet on the ground and his head in heaven—cut him down to size, we say. So we may not see ourselves as an earthling with heavenly heads, but basically, it's only physically that we've been changed. Our physical height was reduced to about six feet. But our nature is still petroleum, is still a person, has the ability to stand on the ground and have his head in heaven. That hasn't changed.
Now, one of the hardest things, one of the worst punishments, which is becoming extinct in this country, is for a person to be confined to a jail cell. If you confine the human being and restrict his movement, that's considered one of the worst punishments. Isolation is worse. But just the lack of the ability to go where you want and do what you want is called prison. And it's against man's nature because, really, he seeks control of everything. He wants to be aware and move from Shamayim to Aretz, from east to west, because that's his nature. So confining a person is a punishment or an anti-natural type of state of being.
And we see that in Sefer Melachim: David HaMelech is walking when Shimi ben Gera curses him. He tells his soldiers, "Eifo, leave him." But when he's about to die, he tells Shlomo, "Don't execute him. Don't punish him, but make sure he gets what he deserves. Use your chokhmah (wisdom)." And what did Shlomo HaMelech, the wisest of all people, do? He told Shimei, "My father told me not to kill you. So I'm telling you, I won't." Shimei was a resident of Yerushalayim. Shlomo said, "So long as you stay in Yerushalayim, you are safe. But if you step foot out of Yerushalayim, that will be your last step." Warning. You think, "Wow, I can stay in Yerushalayim my whole life. The king I cursed gave me a pardon. His son isn't going to kill me so long as I stay here." And yet, the restriction is a psychological punishment. And what happened? Some of his property—servants, donkeys—got lost, and he heard that somebody had seen them outside Yerushalayim. So he went to get them, and he was executed.
Shimi ben Gera shows us that the nature of the human being is to be free. Freedom of movement is essential to our being. And Shlomo, the wisest of all men, knew that he could not stay in Yerushalayim. If Shlomo had not commanded Shimei to stay in Yerushalayim, Shimei could have lived there. He could have stayed there for a hundred years, maybe more. But once the nature of man was confined, once he was told not to break out of bounds, a human being can't stand to be imprisoned. He had to break out.
Why does man, if that's his nature and that's his beginnings, feel this urge to break out? It's because we have to look at what he was originally. We have to look at that petroleum-based formica. It's because man in his original form reached from one end of the world to the other. Whether you go horizontally or vertically, he encompassed the whole world. And that urge, that basic nature still exists in the creature that now has the Tashit alai kapecha (You have placed Your hand upon me), the shrunk-down version, because Hashem pushed him down to six feet. That's why, if you want to have calm kids, put them in a car and drive them. They could look out the window and be quiet. They could look out the window silently for a long trip. They can't do that in your den, because they're encompassing the whole world.
This brings us to a very deep point: knowing creates a bond or a connection between the one who knows and the one who's known. A person has a mental connection to the things that he knows. I can see it; I can take care of it. I know about it; I can control it. This is the nature of every single person, every single human being. He has a natural desire to know, K-N-O-W, the entire world. Everything interests him, because he was originally created, the oil base, to encompass the entire world. The curiosity that killed the cat is human nature. Man's naturally large dimensions can either be vertical or horizontal, but they're not confinable. Adam HaRishon reached heaven to earth, from east to west, but he was shrunken because he ate Etz HaDa'at. He had to know more.
And what do you have to know? Until about 150 years ago, people had their feet on the ground, and they were able to have their head in heaven. They didn't know much about the world at large. There were people born and died in the same village or the same town. There were people living in the same house on the same block their whole life. And they never went to Europe, and they never went on a Pesach trip. And they never took a plane or a boat. A person by nature was able to be within himself, study his Torah, learn about what he was exposed to, and have his head in heaven and his feet on the ground.
When you think about it, we see in the Torah time and time again that astronomy was well known. People could look at a star, look at a planet that looked like a star, and make predictions or calculations. And then suddenly man fell. That's why Hashem gave him a telephone. That's why Hashem gave him a radio. That's why Hashem brought all the technological advances into being: because man needs the whole world in the palm of his hand. Because that's man's basic nature. That's the petroleum from which the formica called Adam is made. And that's his basic nature.
Our great-grandparents didn't feel restricted. Their heads reached heaven. They lived with HaKadosh Baruch Hu, the resident of the upper atmospheres. El Elyon, you say in the beginning of Amidah. They lived with Him. They sensed Him. They spoke to Him. They listened to Him. Their head was in heaven with no mechanics and no electronics and no Wi-Fi.
Let's take an example to prove that's true. You would think that if you ask a Goy (non-Jew) or a Mechalel Shabbat (one who desecrates Shabbat), "How's your Sabbath? How's your Saturday?" they'd say, "Oh, I get to go shopping. I get to play golf. My wife and I like to go to the beach. We go for a ride to a nearby state to see some great natural wonder. We watch a football game that's being played in another state." And they ask you, "You're not allowed to survive. You're not allowed to drive. You're not allowed to talk on the phone. You're not allowed to text or email. You're not allowed to travel. How could you live like that? You're so restricted."
And if you ask me, and if you ask a real Shomer Shabbat (one who observes Shabbat), when I'm free of all the devices that take me away from my little house and my little library, when I'm free from that, that's my unrestricted lifestyle. That's my connection to heaven. That's my head in Shamayim with my feet on the ground. And that's how Jews lived 150 years ago. Every day, all the time during the day, their head was in Shamayim. Today, I know what's happening elsewhere. In truth, it's not something to be so proud of. It means you're lying on the ground and you stretch from east to west.
I prepared this class not today, and not coincidentally, to make sure I had the right topic. A man comes to me at the end of the prayers today and says, "Rabbi, I got a problem. I can't turn off the news. I have to shut down my internet. I have to do everything that's going on like during COVID because of the situation." There he is. He's got it on his computer. He says, "What can I do? I'm trapped in a desire for information."
And I said, the fact that you stand on a subway platform and the train's not there yet, and you're reading something of interest, you stop to go like this. Now you know the train is not close, and you calm down until enough time passes and the train still hasn't come, so you look again. Why? I asked him, "Did your looking ever make a train get there? Are you a conductor with the neck? You turn your neck and the train comes?" He said, "No." I said, "Read your book. When the train comes, the train comes, because you have no control over that." He said, "But I want to know." I said, "Ah, that's the flaw of the human being. That's what makes you uncomfortable."
But on Shabbat, when you don't have a phone and you don't have Wi-Fi and you don't have a radio or a television, you're on earth with your head in heaven, and the world is no less interesting and no less beautiful. If anything, it's more so. Hashem punishes. He punishes a person by restricting them. And when He frees them from this desire to know, He's actually... I think I can think back, and the word's been used a lot in the last few days. I remember 9-11, and in the week of 9-11, knowing the news was a disease—widespread, addictive, contagious. At a seminar to teach people how to deal with the circumstances, we really knew nothing. Is there going to be another attack? Was it an isolated attack? Who did the attack? How did it happen? Where did it happen? Was it news-oriented?
Rabbi Matisyahu Solomon, who lives in B'riyut and is Mashgiach (spiritual supervisor) in Lakewood, New Jersey, was asked, "How much time am I allowed to spend gathering news and information?" You'll be shocked. He didn't say, "None." He said you have a right to know, and you have protective measures you must know about, but five minutes in the morning and five minutes in the evening is enough news to deal with the crisis. I don't have to know every missile that was fired. I don't have to know everybody who was found or lost. I'm really not in control. It's my nature to feel that if I know, I'm in control, and therefore I have to know, but that's the downfall of the Olympian.
We trust Hashem. We have to be aware somewhat for our own protection and the protection of our children. Yes, we did send out a message to the parents of Ahiezer in my school—not my school, the school I work at—to let them know we're taking steps to protect the children and they should also help with the comings and goings. But it doesn't mean we're in control. It means we acknowledge that the news we heard could create a danger, and we do the little that we could do. But in the end, Ein Od Milevado, which you have trouble reading—it's backwards on some of the screens—Ein Od Milevado, there's no one, there's no power, there's no anything in your control. You can make decisions, but whether they happen or not is Borei Olam (Creator of the world). Therefore, let's put our heads back in heaven and trust our Maker and pray to Him for our success and pray to Him for our safety, which is totally His, and put our brains back in Shamayim without the phone, without the Google generation, without the Wi-Fi, without the Internet, and with a minimal amount of information for personal safety, not for control. Doing this doesn't make the train come. We'll see you again. Peace out.