Clinging

In our parshah Eikev, we are commanded to have things cling to us, so that we in turn may cling to God.

As part of Moses’ grand speech, we are reminded of the giving of Torah on Mount Sinai, the drowning of Pharaoh’s army in the Red Sea, and that it is a special gift to have seen these wonders. To ensure that future generations remember these events, we are to have tefillin cling to our arm and head, and the mezuzah cling to our doorpost.

Deuteronomy 11:
 

וְשַׂמְתֶּם֙ אֶת־דְּבָרַ֣י אֵ֔לֶּה עַל־לְבַבְכֶ֖ם וְעַֽל־נַפְשְׁכֶ֑ם וּקְשַׁרְתֶּ֨ם אֹתָ֤ם לְאוֹת֙ עַל־יֶדְכֶ֔ם וְהָי֥וּ לְטוֹטָפֹ֖ת בֵּ֥ין עֵינֵיכֶֽם׃

"Therefore impress these My words upon your very heart: bind them as a sign on your hand and let them serve as a symbol on your forehead,
 

וְלִמַּדְתֶּ֥ם אֹתָ֛ם אֶת־בְּנֵיכֶ֖ם לְדַבֵּ֣ר בָּ֑ם בְּשִׁבְתְּךָ֤ בְּבֵיתֶ֙ךָ֙ וּבְלֶכְתְּךָ֣ בַדֶּ֔רֶךְ וּֽבְשׇׁכְבְּךָ֖ וּבְקוּמֶֽךָ׃

and teach them to your children—reciting them when you stay at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you get up;
 

וּכְתַבְתָּ֛ם עַל־מְזוּז֥וֹת בֵּיתֶ֖ךָ וּבִשְׁעָרֶֽיךָ׃

and inscribe them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates—
 

לְמַ֨עַן יִרְבּ֤וּ יְמֵיכֶם֙ וִימֵ֣י בְנֵיכֶ֔ם עַ֚ל הָֽאֲדָמָ֔ה אֲשֶׁ֨ר נִשְׁבַּ֧ע יְהֹוָ֛ה לַאֲבֹתֵיכֶ֖ם לָתֵ֣ת לָהֶ֑ם כִּימֵ֥י הַשָּׁמַ֖יִם עַל־הָאָֽרֶץ׃ {ס}  

       
to the end that you and your children may endure, in the land that יהוה swore to your fathers to assign to them, as long as there is a heaven over the earth.
 

כִּי֩ אִם־שָׁמֹ֨ר תִּשְׁמְר֜וּן אֶת־כׇּל־הַמִּצְוָ֣ה הַזֹּ֗את אֲשֶׁ֧ר אָנֹכִ֛י מְצַוֶּ֥ה אֶתְכֶ֖ם לַעֲשֹׂתָ֑הּ לְאַהֲבָ֞ה אֶת־יְהֹוָ֧ה אֱלֹהֵיכֶ֛ם לָלֶ֥כֶת בְּכׇל־דְּרָכָ֖יו וּלְדׇבְקָה־בֽוֹ׃

If, then, you faithfully keep all this Instruction that I command you, loving your God יהוה, walking in all God’s ways, and holding fast to [God]"

The highest form of relationship in Jewish thought is clinging. Taking a look at one version of the Got fun Avrohom post-Havdalah “tekhine,” the prayer composed in Yiddish for and often by women, we see two forms of “clinging,” a clinging to friends, and a clinging to God.

און די וואך זאל אונדז קומען
צו אמונה שלימה, צו אמונת חכמים
צו אהבת ודיבוק חברים טובים
צו דביקות הבורא ברוך הוא

And the week should bring us,
To complete faith, to faith in [our] wise men,
To love of and clinging to good friends,
To clinging to the Creator, blessed is He.

Here, “clinging” is left in Hebrew, not Germanic Yiddish — dibuk and dveykus (dveykut). They both come from the root D-B-Q (דבק), but dibuk is used for human beings and dveykus for God. 

While they mean the same thing, we may ask why there are different variations on this root to distinguish the kind of clinging. 

Clinging to human beings means that we change them, we affect them; this change, if we are not careful, can be destructive. 

Dibuk is better known as a negative concept, from the spirit of the dybbuk, the soul that clings to another’s body to inhabit it, made popular from Jewish folklore by S. Ansky at the turn-of-the-century. 

In Got fun Avrohom, dibuk has a positive connotation, meaning closeness to friends. But therein lies the interesting aspect of clinging to human beings — sometimes it is beautiful and powerful, sometimes it is regressive and painful. 

However, we find an instance of clinging between human beings that is part of the essence of humanity itself. From Genesis chapter 2:
 

עַל־כֵּן֙ יַֽעֲזׇב־אִ֔ישׁ אֶת־אָבִ֖יו וְאֶת־אִמּ֑וֹ וְדָבַ֣ק בְּאִשְׁתּ֔וֹ וְהָי֖וּ לְבָשָׂ֥ר אֶחָֽד׃

"Hence a man leaves his father and mother and clings to his wife, so that they become one flesh."

So do human beings change each other in the course of a sexual relationship? We often say they do, but the narrative in Genesis is suggestive of the idea that this kind of clinging is a “return” to a pre-existing reality. Take a look again and see how a man leaves his parents to do this, going from a partial reality to a primordial one, harkening back to the original Creation. It is no wonder that a Jewish wedding’s blessings include blessings that invoke Creation, and one makes a direct connection to the primordial unity and happiness.
 

שַׂמֵּֽחַ תְּשַׂמַּח רֵעִים הָאֲהוּבִים כְּשַׂמֵּחֲךָ יְצִירְךָ בְּגַן עֵֽדֶן מִקֶּֽדֶם. ‏בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ מְשַׂמֵּֽחַ חָתָן וְכַלָּה׃‏

“Grant great joy to these loving companions as You once gladdened your creations in the Garden of Eden.  Blessed are You, Adonai, who gladden the bridegroom and the bride.”

In this situation, being that man and woman are of the same material, there is no change in each other in the process of “clinging,” and therefore no downside to their union. As a matter of fact, they become “one flesh.”

Human beings becoming one flesh with each other, no matter the gender or sexual relationship, may not require any modifications to the self or other to achieve sexual unity, but as any couple knows, the moments after are challenging. The clinging is not permanent, and challenges remain on this earth.

Clinging to God also does not change its object, God. God is unchangeable and unaffected by our clinging. It is we who must change to approach God.

Deuteronomy 4:4:

וְאַתֶּם֙ הַדְּבֵקִ֔ים בַּיהֹוָ֖ה אֱלֹהֵיכֶ֑ם חַיִּ֥ים כֻּלְּכֶ֖ם הַיּֽוֹם׃

“you, who held fast to your God יהוה, are all alive today.”

The Midrash asks the question, how is it possible to cling onto God? Doesn’t it also say “For the Lord thy God is a consuming fire?” 

The Midrash’s answer is that you simply can’t literally do this. Instead, it claims, this is a metaphor for being close to a Torah scholar.

“We must therefore say that whoever marries his daughter to a scholar, whoever does business in partnership with a scholar, or whoever benefits a scholar by his estate. Scripture considers him as if he did cleave unto Shekhina."

The Zohar’s commentary on Genesis directly answers the challenge of the Midrash, acknowledging the answer it gave, while offering its own interpretation: God is an all-consuming fire, but there is a special “white” fire above the blue fire that is not consumed. 
 

וְהַהוּא נְהוֹרָא חִוְורָא שָׁארֵי עִלָוֵּיהּ וְאִתְאֲחִידוּ דָא בְּדָא לְמֶהוֵי כֹּלָּא חַד. וְהַהוּא נְהוֹרָא אוּכְמָא אוֹ גַּוָון תִּכְלָא דְּאִיהוּ לְתַתָּא הוּא כָּרְסַיָא דִיקָר לְהַהוּא חִוָּורָא.

“The two are inseparably connected, the white resting and being enthroned upon the black.”

Israel has the unique ability, reasons the Zohar, to exist within this white fire, even though as people, we are below the consuming flame of God. It is this metaphysical analogy, which contradicts itself on physical terms, that draws us near the idea that we really can cling to the living God.

The mystical practice of the Hasidim took "dveykus" as a state of being one could spiritually ascend to through prayer, that it is an ecstasy one can reach through a specific moment. In this way, the Zohar's idea that indeed a person can cling to God merges with a practice for its (temporary) achievement.

The medieval work of Musar (Ethics), Mesillat Yesharim suggests that one can cling to God by means of mitzvot and proper behavior. 

“But if he rules over himself and clings to his Creator, and uses the world only as an aid to serve his Creator - then he elevates himself and elevates the world with him.”

The “clinging” in this sense is not metaphorical, but it’s not literal either. Here, a person clings to God in terms of one’s loyalty, which is the straightforward meaning of Deuteronomy 4:4, rising above the temptations of this world.

In a spiritual sense, medieval poet and philosopher Solomon ibn Gabirol speculates in The Font of Life that a soul, being mixed of upper spiritual matter and lower material matter, chooses whether to elevate or descend itself, through its thought and actions. Does it become dead materiality, or rise to the source of eternal life? Here we see that the Ethics ideas again become spiritualized, harmonizing the path of Mesillat Yesharim with the metaphysics of the Zohar.

If we take these ideas seriously, we see that the prayer “Got fun Avrohom” is, like many such prayers, a combination of prayer to God and ourselves. We pray to God for what God can bring us, but to ourselves to do what we need to transform ourselves to be close to God. For example, the prayer later turns to ourselves, asking us to believe in the 13 principles of faith.

In reality, all forms of clinging really do require an internal transformation. A person must choose to leave their parents to find a mate. A person must become sensitive to the needs of others to have a friend. As a partner, we must change to stay compatible with them.

And we must change our ideals and vision of the world around us to embrace it as it changes.