A tug of war between Olam-Haba-with-a-touch-of-Olam-Hazeh, versus Olam-Hazeh-with-a-touch-of-Olam-Haba

We encounter them everywhere, these low-hanging fruit. So defenseless and pathetic are they, that to gobble them up and consume them is to take unfair advantage of the weak and the vulnerable.

How else to describe the plethora of notices inviting us to spend Succos in various opulent locales around the world? The choices for Yom Tov are many: There is Portugal, featuring gourmet meals at a “five-star brand-new resort, with state-of-the-art, fully equipped fitness center.” If you prefer the US, Succos in Florida is complete with an eiruv and spa pools; or if you like Mexico, you can have top-flight accommodations in Cancun. If you choose Jerusalem, you can overlook the walls of the Old City while dining on “lavish gourmet meals with Prime USDA beef plus top-shelf bar and wine list.” And, obviously, each of these lush venues offers a 24-hour tea room.

These are all low-hanging fruit, but one resists the temptation to satirize them. Because on a deeper level, they are a commentary on the condition of Orthodox Jewry as we enter the year 5786.

This condition is best exemplified by the juxtaposition of eiruv, 24-hour tea rooms, and Prime USDA beef. Here in microcosm is the malaise that afflicts a significant portion of Orthodox Judaism: It is the schizophrenia that wants to be fully observant and to maintain a connection with Olam Haba spirituality (“eiruv on the premises”) but simultaneously wants to drink from the cup of Olam Hazeh physicality — a well-known condition known as wanting to eat the bagel without losing the hole in the middle.

Orthodox Judaism claims to have won the religious battle in the US and elsewhere. The Reform and Conservative movements have self-immolated, victims of the temptations of imitating goyim and the pitfalls of k’chol hagoyim. Because of their eagerness to popularize and edit Torah, they have tragically lost millions of Jews to intermarriage and assimilation.

But before crowing about the ascendancy of Orthodoxy, it is prudent to ascertain that it not be a Pyrrhic victory, The initial battle was won, but the war goes on. A struggle within Orthodoxy itself: a tug of war between Olam-Haba-with-a-touch-of-Olam- Hazeh, versus Olam-Hazeh-with-a-touch-of-Olam-Haba. The ancient struggle between body and soul.

Many Orthodox Jews, while not relinquishing Olam Hazeh, have opted for an emphasis on Olam Haba. This is the world of the yeshivos and kollelim, whose spiritual pull has attracted a large percentage of observant Jewry. Orthodox educational institutions are found throughout the US and around the world. For them and their adherents, the values of Olam Haba dominate, though they live and participate in this world. They set aside regular time for Torah study, they daven with feeling, and surround themselves with mitzvos like tzedakah and chesed. They have successfully escaped from the traps of cultural accommodation and assimilation. And among them are not only black hats, but kippot serugot as well.

But there is another cohort of Orthodox Jews, also quite sizable, who are not quite ready for this path. Although fully observant, their attachment to Olam Hazeh seems to affect their learning and davening and mitzvah performance. Somehow, the passion is missing. It is as if Olam Hazeh has a stranglehold on them that they are unable to release. And among them are many black hats as well.

This tug of war is not new. Jewish history is replete with such tensions. Fortunately, the Torah offers guideline for coping: You may eat and enjoy physical pleasures, but there are boundary lines for when, what, and how. On the other hand, Judaism discourages self-flagellation, constant fasting, and extreme rejection of this world in service of G-d. To be a successful Jew is to engage in a delicate balance, a lifelong effort to experience the Infinite while being encased in flesh and blood.

Clearly, there is nothing sinful per se about luxury. The ancient Beis Hamikdash, for example, was not a simple hut, but a striking structure, in keeping with “zeh Keili v’anvehu — this is my G-d and I will glorify Him” (Shemos 15:2). It was built to inspire and uplift all who experienced its splendor. Judaism does not demand poverty vows. On Shabbos and Yom Tov we are forbidden to fast (except for Yom Kippur); instead, we celebrate G-d by good food, wine, and song — and an awareness of our Creator.

This is why the Torah sets down certain guardrails. We may eat well, for example, but must stop short of gluttony — which Ramban famously describes as naval b’reshus haTorah, “a scoundrel within the boundaries of Torah,” one who engages behaviors that might be technically permissible, but completely against the spirit of Torah (Vayikra 19:2).

Thus, it is that while full observance is the indispensable first step on the ladder to becoming a religious Jew, it is only the first step. Beyond this, we strive toward elevating ourselves spiritually and seeking a connection with G-d. One can be a shomer mitzvos and still be a stranger to spiritual things; one can be Orthodox and still not be religious.

Those ad writers are talented professionals who know what sells. And if year after year they highlight the top-shelf drinks and the 24-hour tea rooms that attract many thousands of Orthodox Jews, then Orthodox Judaism might have won the battle, but it has a long way to go before it wins the war.

Just something to think about during these Days of Awe. May we be inscribed and sealed for a year of life and peace — plus high-hanging fruit.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1080)