Our tradition wrestles with this very feeling. The book of Kohelet, or Ecclesiastes, famously explores the futility of life, that "all is vanity." But within the rabbinic expansions on Kohelet, called Kohelet Rabbah, we find not just resignation, but also a deep exploration of what can and cannot be fixed in this world.
One passage in Kohelet Rabbah 1:15 grabs your attention right away: "That which is warped cannot be straightened, and that which is lacking cannot be counted." It's a stark statement, isn't it? But what does it really mean? The rabbis, masters of interpretation, offer multiple layers of understanding.
First, the text connects this idea to the very creation of the world. The waters, it says, were corrupted – nitavetu – during those initial six days and became salty. Now, millennia later, they haven’t been fully repaired. Similarly, the lunar year is shorter than the solar year. God "subtracted" eleven days, and no matter how many years, cycles, or intercalations pass, the two will never align perfectly. A cosmic imbalance, forever present.
Then, the text takes a more moralistic turn, linking the idea to the generation of the Flood. Their actions, once corrupted – again, nitavetu – could not be repaired. God even shortened their lifespans, limiting them to 120 years, as stated in Genesis 6:3. This loss, this diminishment, could not be restored.
But it's not all doom and gloom! The rabbis then pivot, offering a glimmer of hope. "If a person does not divert himself – me’avet – from Torah study, he can repair himself." Even if he sins! And "if a person does not detract from his Torah study, he can still be counted" – among the Torah scholars, no less. But the flip side is equally true: neglect Torah, and you may find yourself beyond repair, beyond being counted.
The text illustrates this with a story of Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Elazar, who studied together. Rabbi Yehuda got married, and his seven-day wedding feast put him behind Rabbi Elazar. Even after years of trying, he couldn't catch up. "That which is lacking cannot be counted," the text reminds us.
The passage continues with further examples. If you miss the time for reciting the Shema, the central Jewish prayer, or neglect your prayers, the verse applies: "That which is warped cannot be straightened."
The text then brings in Rabbi Shimon ben Menasya, who offers a particularly powerful interpretation. What does it mean, "that which is warped cannot be straightened?" He says it's about a person who engages in relations with a forbidden relative and has a child, a mamzer. A mamzer faces restrictions on who they can marry within the Jewish community. This, Rabbi Shimon argues, is a wrong that is incredibly difficult, if not impossible, to right. He contrasts this with a thief or robber, who can make amends by returning what they stole.
Rabbi Shimon emphasizes that the term "warped" applies to someone who was originally straight but became corrupted. And who is that? A Torah scholar who forsakes the Torah. Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai adds that we should examine the daily offerings, meaning those who should be bringing light to the world through Torah learning, but have strayed. Yehuda ben Lakish, quoting Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel, compares such a person to "a bird straying from its nest," as Proverbs 27:8 puts it.
Finally, the text touches on a fascinating, almost mythical idea. The thought of creating one thousand generations entered God's mind, but many were "obliterated." The reason? "He commanded the matter for one thousand generations," as Psalm 105:8 states – referring to the Torah, according to one interpretation, and circumcision, according to another. Before giving these commandments, God considered a thousand generations, but only created a fraction of that number.
Rabbi Yaakov bar Aḥa, in the name of Rabbi Yoḥanan, concludes with a practical lesson: never abstain from going to the study hall. He tells a story about a complex question regarding ritual purity and a boat in the Jordan River. For a long time, no one in Yavne could answer it. Finally, Rabbi Ḥanina ben Akavya provided the explanation.
So, what are we left with? A complex tapestry of ideas about what can and cannot be fixed. The passage acknowledges the existence of inherent imbalances in the world, the consequences of past actions, and the importance of staying connected to Torah learning. But it also suggests that while some things may be beyond our power to repair, we still have agency. We can choose to engage with Torah, to strive for righteousness, and to contribute to a world that, despite its imperfections, still holds the potential for meaning and connection. Perhaps the key is to focus on what can be straightened, what can be counted, and to find solace and purpose in the ongoing journey of repair – the Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">tikkun olam – that is at the heart of Jewish tradition.