It’s a surprisingly ancient feeling. And it's at the heart of a fascinating passage in Shir HaShirim Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Song of Songs.
The passage gives us a glimpse into the poignant dialogue between the Jewish people and God, a conversation colored by exile and longing for home. Imagine the scene: The congregation of Israel stands before the Holy One, Blessed be He, and expresses a deep-seated frustration. It's a complaint born of the Diaspora, the scattering of Jews outside of the Land of Israel.
Rabbi Ḥiyya, quoting Rabbi Yoḥanan, paints a vivid picture. The congregation laments, "Master of the universe, because I did not observe one ḥalla in the Land of Israel, I observe two ḥallot in Syria."
Now, what’s ḥalla? It refers to the mitzvah, the commandment, to separate a portion of dough from each baking – a gift to the priests in Temple times. Think of it as a sacred offering, a recognition of God's blessing in the bounty of the earth.
But here's the twist. In Syria, in exile, they weren't just separating one portion, but two! As the passage continues, "I thought that I would be rewarded for two, but I am only rewarded for one." It suggests an attempt to compensate for a perceived failure in the Land of Israel. Because they didn't guard their own vineyard in the Land of Israel, they were exiled and had to double the effort in Syria.
Rabbi Abba, also in the name of Rabbi Yoḥanan, echoes the same sentiment, but this time with festivals. "Master of the universe, because I did not observe one festival day in the Land of Israel, I observe two festival days of the Diaspora outside of the Land of Israel. I thought that I would be rewarded for the two of them, but I am only rewarded for one."
Double the observance, but not double the reward. Why?
It’s a question that gnaws at the heart of the exile experience. Is it about the quantity of our actions, or the quality of our intention? Is it about location, or devotion? Are we going through the motions, or are we truly present in our observance?
Then comes a particularly sharp observation. Rabbi Yoḥanan reads Ezekiel 20:25 in their regard: “I, too, gave them statutes that were not good.” Not good?! What could that mean?
It's a jarring statement, isn’t it? This verse, seemingly harsh, hints at a deeper truth. The extra observances, born out of a sense of lack, might lack the inherent joy and connection that comes from observing within the Land, within the intended context. Perhaps the doubled effort is a reminder of what's been lost, a constant echo of a broken connection.
Perhaps the doubling is a well-intentioned, but ultimately insufficient, substitute for something that can't be replicated: the genuine, wholehearted observance rooted in its proper place.
It leaves us pondering: Are we sometimes so focused on trying to "make up" for perceived shortcomings that we miss the point? Are we so busy doubling our efforts that we lose sight of the true meaning and joy in what we do? It's a powerful reminder to examine our motivations, to ensure that our actions are rooted in genuine connection and intention, rather than simply trying to fill a void.