ESSAY: A Wedding In Two Movements
Getting married takes time—as much as three thousand years

INSIGHTS:
An Unclouded Harvest
“If it is a clear day on the festival of Shavuot, sow your fields with wheat.” A farming tip, or an insight into the essence of wisdom?

So said G-d: I remember the kindness of your youth, your bridal love; your following Me in the desert, in an unsown land

Jeremiah 2:2

In this world, [G-d’s bond with His people] was a betrothal—as it is written, “I shall betroth you to Me forever”[1]—and G-d gave them the moon only, as it is written, “This new month shall be to you...”[2] But in the days of Moshiach there shall be the marriage—as it is written, “Your husband, your maker”[3]—and then G-d shall give them everything, as it is written: “And the wise shall shine like the brightness of the heavens, and they who bring righteousness to the many as the stars forever.”[4]

Midrash Rabbah, Shemot 15:30

We inhabit a reality defined by two basic states: being and naught. A thing either is or is not, is either manifest or repressed, in motion or at rest, positive (charged with energy) or negative (not charged with energy). Even the most complex phenomena are the sum of many gradations of presence and absence. After all is said and done, everything boils down to the confluence of so many times “yes” and so many times “no.” The “nos” delineate the parameters of a thing, establishing what it is not, while the “yesses” are the essence of what it is. (A three-foot red piece of wood is not three feet and one inch long, not green, blue or yellow, not stone or iron, etc. The “nots” form the boundaries of the piece of wood, marking the limits of its being and its distinction from other objects, while the “yesses” relate to what lies within these boundaries—the nature and qualities of the piece of wood itself).

“G-d looked into the Torah and created the world.”[5] Thus, the binary nature of creation reflects the division of Torah into positive and negative realms. “I am the L-rd your G-d,”[6] the most fundamental of the positive commandments (mitzvot assei), is complemented by “You shall have no other gods before Me”[7]—the essence of all divine prohibitions (mitzvot lo ta’aseh); “Love your fellow as yourself”[8] is the positive counterpart to “You shall not hate your brother in your heart,”[9] and “Remember the Shabbat day”[10] mirrors “Do not do any work... on the seventh day.”[11] The Torah commands to create life[12] and forbids destroying it[13]; it commands to aid the needy[14] and forbids pressing them for their debts[15]; it instructs to eat unleavened bread on Passover,[16] and forbids all leavened foods for the duration of the festival[17]; and so on.[18]

The Torah institution of marriage also includes both an “affirmative” and a “negative” component. According to Torah law, a marriage consists of two distinct steps. First comes the kiddushin (“consecration,” also called eirusin, “betrothal”[19]): the groom gives the bride something of value (by common practice, a ring), in return for which the bride consecrates herself to him, with the effect that “she becomes forbidden to the rest of the world.”[20] From this point on, for another man to have relations with her constitutes adultery, and to dissolve the kiddushin requires a get (writ of divorce), as for a full-fledged marriage. Yet the purpose of marriage is not to preclude “the rest of world” from living with her, but to effect a union between two people. This is the function of the nissu’in (“marriage”)—achieved by the chupah (wedding canopy), yichud (private seclusion) and sheva berachot (seven marriage benedictions)—which renders man and wife “one flesh.”[21] Otherwise stated, the kiddushin defines the parameters of the relationship, clearing a “space” in which it might exist, while the nissu’in fills this space with the essence of the relationship itself.

As we said, kiddushin and nissu’in are two distinct phases in the marriage process. Indeed, originally, the kiddushin would be held at an earlier date, after which the bride continued to live with her parents as the couple prepared for the nissu’in, which was usually held one year later. (It was only in recent centuries, when the tribulations of exile undermined the stability of Jewish life and often caused the sudden dispersion of communities that it was deemed unwise to create a marriage-bond between a man and woman who would not actually be living together. Hence the present-day practice of conducting the nissu’in immediately following the kiddushin, combining the two stages of marriage in a single ceremony.)

Our sages tell us that at Mount Sinai, where G-d revealed Himself to us and gave us the Torah, we consecrated ourselves to Him as His bride. This, however, was only the kiddushin stage of our marriage. Our bond with Him shall be complete only in the era of Moshiach, at which time G-d and Israel shall unite in nissu’in.

This is not to say that our relationship with G-d today is a wholly “negative” one—as noted above, our commitment to Him includes both “positive commandments” and “prohibitions.” But today we are only capable of establishing the “parameters” of the relationship, not of realizing its quintessential content. Today, our relationship with G-d is defined by our commitment to Him and by our striving to unite with Him, but without the tactual experience of the union itself. We yearn for Him as a bride yearns for her betrothed, but whose most rapturous feelings are but a faint intimation of post-marriage love.

For thirty-three centuries, we have been creating the “space” of our marriage with G-d and zealously defending its borders. We have remained faithful to Him in the face of all the cultures and “isms” that have sought to seduce us. We have established our identity as His people, consecrated to Him alone. Now we are ready for the real thing—for an actual experience of the divine as the most intimate truth of our lives.

Based on the Rebbe’s talks[22]

Achitofel instructed his children in three things [before his death]: Do not enter into quarrels. Do not rebel against the sovereignty of the house of David. If it is a clear day on the festival of Shavuot, sow wheat.

Talmud, Bava Batra 147a

The Ethics of the Fathers tells us that “there are three crowns: the crown of Torah, the crown of kehunah (priesthood) and the crown of sovereignty. But the crown of good name supersedes them all.”[23]

Sovereignty, priesthood and Torah constitute the three primary objects of human striving: power, spirituality and wisdom. There are two basic approaches to the attainment of these goals: the approach of one “whose wisdom comes before his piety”[24]—who relies on his own understanding to guide him in his quest; and the approach of one “whose piety comes before his wisdom”[25]—whose commitment to G-d takes precedence over his understanding. As the above-quoted mishnah concludes, the “crown of good name”—of good works and obedience to the divine will[26]—must supersede all other “crowns.”

Achitofel was one of the greatest sages of his generation (King David called him “my master and teacher”[27]). Yet all his life he followed the route of giving precedence to his reason over his piety[28]—a path which brought him much grief. Therein lies the deeper significance of the three pieces of advice he offers to his children before his passing: he is warning them not to repeat his error of placing wisdom before piety, as this pertains to the three “crowns” of human aspiration.

The first thing he tells them is: “Do not enter into quarrels.” This is a reference to the folly of Korach, whom the Torah considers the father of all disunity and strife.[29] Korach contested the legitimacy of the kehunah, arguing that spirituality should not be defined by a hierarchical priesthood but by every individual in the community, regardless of his vocation and calling in life.[30] Korach had many logical arguments in support of his view.[31] But because he did not accept that it is G-d, not man, who defines the nature of spirituality and the means of its attainment, his aspirations ended up destroying him and all who joined him in his campaign.[32]

The second piece of advice that Achitofel had for his children concerns the second crown, the “crown of sovereignty”: “Do not rebel against the sovereignty of the house of David.” Achitofel had been among the leaders of Absalom’s ill-fated rebellion against David[33]—and he had many sound arguments on which to base his claim that David had forfeited his right to the throne.[34] Here, too, the root of Achitofel’s error was his failure to set his obedience to the will of G-d above all else, including the deductions of the most brilliant of minds.

Finally, Achitofel addresses the attainment of the “crown of Torah,” telling his children: “If it is a clear day on the festival of Shavuot, sow your fields with wheat.” In the writings of our sages, “wheat” is a metaphor for wisdom. The “tree of knowledge,” says the Midrash, “was wheat.”[35] The Talmud states that “A child does not learn to say ‘Father,’ until he has tasted grain.”[36] If you want your “wheat” to turn out right—Achitofel is saying—you must recognize that the source of all wisdom is the festival of Shavuot, which is the day we entered into a covenant with G-d and received the Torah from Him. Only when you have a clear vision of Shavuot—only when you achieve an unclouded view of the commitment to G-d that must precede all human understanding—will your crop of reason grow straight and true and beneficially nourish your life.

Based on an letter by the Rebbe dated Erev Shavuot, 5709 (June 2, 1949)[37]

Adapted from the teachings of the Rebbe by Yanki Tauber