And our tradition grapples with it head-on.
Shemot Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Exodus, offers a fascinating take on this very issue, drawing us back to Adam and the fateful Tree of Knowledge.
The passage opens with a seemingly simple phrase: "This is the matter." But what is the matter? The text cleverly links it to a verse from Habakkuk (1:12): "Are You not from ancient times, Lord my God, my Holy One? We will not die."
Think about that for a moment. Before Adam ate from the Tree, the implication is, death wasn't necessarily a given. The text suggests that had Adam simply refrained from eating, he – and perhaps we – would have been immortal. "Let him not eat from the tree and he will not die," it states. A tantalizing possibility, isn’t it?
But, of course, he did eat. And that changed everything.
Because he violated God's command, death entered the picture. As the text says, "You brought death upon him to smite people." Or, as some suggest the text should read, to admonish. Either way, the consequence was profound. The verse from Habakkuk continues, "Lord, You set them for judgment." This implies death became a form of divine judgment.
So, where does that leave us?
The passage then presents a kind of argument with the Divine. "Master of the universe, if you want us to be sacred, rid us of death," the text pleads, again quoting Habakkuk: "Are You not from ancient times, Lord my God, my Holy One? We will not die."
It’s a powerful request, a yearning for that lost immortality, for that untainted connection with the Divine. The desire to be truly kadosh, holy, and free from the shadow of mortality.
But the response? A firm, unyielding "It is impossible." Death, it seems, is a decree, a judgment that cannot be revoked. "Lord, You set them for judgment."
It's a tough pill to swallow.
So, what are we left with? Is this just a bleak acceptance of mortality? Perhaps not. Maybe it’s an invitation to consider what it means to live a sacred life within the confines of our mortality. If death is inevitable, then how do we make our lives, our actions, truly meaningful? How do we sanctify our time here, knowing it's finite? Perhaps the answer lies not in avoiding death, but in how we choose to live before it arrives. Food for thought, isn't it?