Rabbi Shaya's Thoughts

Is it ever worth getting angry? On the one hand it shows that you are a person of passion, filled with so much emotion that a situation can move you to the point where you are boiling with anger. However, if you look at it from another perspective, it shows that you allowed a situation to get the better of you. And then you might come across as cold and callous.

Is it ever worth getting angry? On the one hand it shows that you are a person of passion, filled with so much emotion that a situation can move you to the point where you are boiling with anger. However, if you look at it from another perspective, it shows that you allowed a situation to get the better of you. And then you might come across as cold and callous.

Two rabbis are sitting and eating a meal. One turns to his fellow and says, “Share a thought.” He responds, “It is not safe to speak while you eat.” But when he finishes, he says, “Jacob, our father, never died.” “But haven’t they given a eulogy at a funeral and buried him in the Tomb of the Patriarchs in Chevron?” the first rabbi asks. “Yes indeed,” the second rabbi answers, “but since his progeny are alive, so is he alive.”

At first glance this is a typical story found in the Talmud, which is trying to teach us a lesson about life: If we live a meaningful life and teach our children how to live theirs, we will live on through them. However, upon deeper reflection we can see that there is much more to the two rabbis’ dialogue.

For example, why was it necessary to point out not to talk while eating? He could have just kept quiet. When he said that Jacob never died, did he think it was meant literally? Why didn’t he just ask what was meant?

The deeper conversation is about whether or not Judaism engages with nature or just casually interacts with it.

Both rabbis are practical and know that they live in the natural world and that they need to eat to survive. They are discussing whether they do so as a necessity or for pleasure.

Is nature meant to be a peripheral part of our lives, with our main focus on G-d and spirituality? Or is nature meant to be integrated into our lives so that it becomes an essential part of our spiritual experience?

If you are of the thinking that it is the latter, then you might want to “share a Torah thought while you are eating.” In this way you can combine the mandate with the holy. This is what the first rabbi tells the second. How does he respond? You might be right, but that is unsafe, as the food can go down the wrong pipe.

“If you want to know how to merge the two worlds together,” responds the second rabbi, “then you should know that Jacob never died. You see, when you combine the two worlds of heaven and earth, nature and higher-than-nature, then even after Jacob dies, he still lives on, through his children.”

This is the deeper meaning of this conversation in the Talmud. The rabbis are teaching us to have a more nuanced appreciation of life. To integrate our thinking and behavior not only to wonder how it will impact us, but how it will impact our children and the people around us. Jacob didn’t live in a bubble and that is why we are still talking about him today. We, too, should live our lives in such a way that we will make a difference, and in order to do so, we have to understand the nature of our little world.

Two rabbis are sitting and eating a meal. One turns to his fellow and says, “Share a thought.” He responds, “It is not safe to speak while you eat.” But when he finishes, he says, “Jacob, our father, never died.” “But haven’t they given a eulogy at a funeral and buried him in the Tomb of the Patriarchs in Chevron?” the first rabbi asks. “Yes indeed,” the second rabbi answers, “but since his progeny are alive, so is he alive.”