Ḥoni HaMe’aggel is one of the most well-known persons in the Talmud. He is a rainmaker and the Jewish Rip van Winkle (or should I say that Rip van Winkle is the Gentile Ḥoni HaMe’aggel, since Honi predates Rip van Winkle by almost 2000 years!). He was a first century BCE tannaitic Sage who lived during the same time as Shimon ben Shetaḥ. To read his famous rainmaking story turn to our daf TB Taanit 23a and how his family continued his rainmaking legacy turn to TB Taanit 23b.
“The Gemara relates another story
about Ḥoni HaMe’aggel. Rabbi Yoḥanan said: All the days of the life of
that righteous man, Ḥoni, he was distressed over the meaning of this
verse: “A song of Ascents: When the Lord brought back those who returned to
Zion, we were like those who dream” (Psalms 126:1). He said to
himself: Is there really a person who can sleep and dream for seventy
years? How is it possible to compare the seventy-year exile in Babylonia to
a dream?
“One day, he was walking along the road when he saw a certain man planting
a carob tree. Ḥoni said to him: This tree, after how many years
will it bear fruit? The man said to him: It will not produce
fruit until seventy years have passed. Ḥoni said to him: Is it
obvious to you that you will live seventy years, that you expect to benefit
from this tree? He said to him: That man himself found a world
full of carob trees. Just as my ancestors planted for me, I too am planting
for my descendants.
“Ḥoni sat and ate bread. Sleep
overcame him and he slept. A cliff formed around him, and he disappeared from
sight and slept for seventy years. When he awoke, he saw a certain man
gathering carobs from that tree. Ḥoni said to him: Are you the
one who planted this tree? The man said to him: I am his son’s son.
Ḥoni said to him: I can learn from this that I have slept for
seventy years, and indeed he saw that his donkey had sired several herds
during those many years.
“Ḥoni went home and said to the
members of the household: Is the son of Ḥoni HaMe’aggel alive? They said to
him: His son is no longer with us, but his son’s son is alive. He
said to them: I am Ḥoni HaMe’aggel. They did not believe him. He went to the
study hall, where he heard the Sages say about one scholar: His halakhot
are as enlightening and as clear as in the years of Ḥoni HaMe’aggel, for
when Ḥoni HaMe’aggel would enter the study hall he would resolve for the
Sages any difficulty they had. Ḥoni said to them: I am he, but they did
not believe him and did not pay him proper respect. Ḥoni became very
upset, prayed for mercy, and died. Rava said: This explains the folk saying
that people say: Either friendship or death, as one who has no friends
is better off dead.”
(Sefaria.org translation)
This story teaches a lot of different
lessons about life which I’m sure you heard or read about one time or another.
Today I want to focus on community. A definition of community is “a feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing
common attitudes, interests, and goals.”
The above story about Honi teaches us the vital and important role community
plays in an individual’s life. Up until our recent past, everybody felt part of
a community because he /she were born, grew up and lived, and died in the same
locale. All their close relatives lived in walking distance of each other if
not with each other. Lifelong friendships were forged and kept.
All that has changed. Today
Americans on the move. I read somewhere that the average American moves every
six years. I have lived a relatively stable rabbinic life, but even I have
served three different congregations in three different cities in two different
states. I appreciate how hard it is to feel part of a community when one is
constantly moving. No wonder so many of us feel rootless. The Covid pandemic
has isolated us in ways we’ve never experienced before. Article after article
discusses how so many adults and students going all the way down to elementary
school are depressed. How they miss human contact! We hunger for community. As
a rabbi I believe that synagogues are the answer to the problem of isolation.
Synagogues can fill the void and
ease the hunger for community. No matter where a person moves to he/she can
find a local synagogues where he/she can meet like-minded people. Synagogues
are places where people believe that there’s more to life than our meager
lifetime; that we matter in some ultimate way; that our lives are vested with
purpose; that our actions must accord with some absolute standards of right and
wrong; that when we die, we can look back on a life meaningfully lived; and
that purpose, rightness, and meaning are not mere fictions.[1]
Synagogues strive be places where a Jew feels at home, finds community, and to
quote a famous TV sitcom theme song “A place where everybody knows my name.”
[1] Rethinking
Synagogues: A New Vocabulary for Congregational Life by Rabbi Lawrence A.
Hoffman, pages 13-14
No comments:
Post a Comment