1. Parashat Yitro; January 26, 1995; page 51.

Hands Off of Nature!

Jeremy Benstein

THE SABBATH APPEARS OUT OF PLACE IN the Ten Commandments. It is the
only ritual requirement in the bunch. Tucked in between the first three
commandments, which deal with monotheism and idolatry, and the following six,
which regulate relations between people, Shabbat is connected to both categories yet
fully part of neither.

It is among the best known Jewish practices, and one of the least understood.

We are commanded to rest, yet nowhere is the meaning of rest spelled out in the
written Torah. The rabbis, on the other hand, provide us with more details than we
might care for. It becomes a violation to pick a flower, write a poem or, later on, flick
a switch.

"Are we dealing here with extravagant and compulsive exaggerations of an originally
`sensible' ritual," psychoanalyst Erich Fromm wrote, "or is our understanding of the
ritual perhaps faulty and in need of revision?" Fromm's answer was the latter, and he
provided the following definition of what is forbidden on the seventh day: "`Work' is
any interference by man, be it constructive or destructive, with the physical world.
Rest is a state of peace between man and nature."

This aggadah of Shabbat, the theory behind the practice, is hinted at in the
commandment itself: We rest in imitation of the original divine rest that was the
climax and cessation of Creation. Yet God's rest allowed the world to exist without
divine intervention. In the same way, Shabbat is as much a respite for the world as it
is for the people who observe it. How else can we understand a day of joy and rest that
prohibits labor-saving devices, and involves frequent inconvenience - but by
seeing that something other than human needs are paramount?

The link between the commandment and the creation story indicates how Shabbat rest
contrasts with creative labor. Genesis describes a very anthropocentric world:
Humanity stands at the head of the created beings, as benevolent dictator in chapter 1,
and conscientious steward in chapter 2. Shabbat implies an approach that can be
labeled biocentric, demanding that humans abstain from domination. It thereby allows
them to see themselves as creatures, rather than creators. Orthodox philosopher
David Hartman says of the seventh day: "... the flowers of the field stand over and
against man as equal members of the universe. I am forbidden to pluck the flower or
to do with it as I please; at sunset the flower becomes a `thou' to me with a right to
existence regardless of its possible value for me... The Sabbath aims at healing the
human grandiosity of technological society."

Shabbat, then, is to time what a nature preserve is to space. Both are "places" marked
with distinct boundaries. In both, the soul of the human "visitor" is refreshed, while
the natural order is preserved in its unviolated form. Outside the boundaries, we do
not seek to negate civilization, the realm of human action, and make the whole world
a preserve. But ideally the values experienced inside the "fence" will influence how
we view the world beyond, and our role in it.

But there is an unresolved tension between the lofty aggadah and the nitty-gritty of
the Shabbat halakhah. If Shabbat implies renouncing human domination over the
natural world, and represents a more harmonious relationship with the rest of creation,
then how can we justify the waste involved in modern observance of the Sabbath,
such as leaving lights and other electric appliances on for the entirety of the day? And
doesn't Sabbath observance become a violation of the mitzvah of bal tash'hit - the
prohibition of senseless waste?

Some observant Jews look to technology to solve the problem: Let timers operate our
lights; let us "observe" the Sabbath by using electronic relays and devices invented
specifically for the seventh day. But is turning to technological innovations to comply
with restrictions in the Sabbath's spirit of humility and human creatureliness? Rather,
it only emphasizes our continued scientific exploitation of nature, and the use of the
uniquely human creative impulse that we are meant to be restraining on this day.
Perhaps there is no single solution that will satisfy all Jews, but I believe that the
issue must be addressed when teaching, and observing, Shabbat.

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