Shabbos Chazon 5785
Jews are obsessed with the past. While I imagine that it is all too typical that children will sit beneath a Christmas tree tearing wrapping paper to shreds without any member of the household having mentioned a word about the birth of the alleged savior, it is nearly impossible to conjure up an image of a Jewish boy or girl—however otherwise assimilated—eating a latke or munching on matzah without somebody around the table referencing the miracle of the oil that lasted eight days or of how G-d smote the Egyptians with Ten Plagues.
Yet if there is one holiday in which this obsession with the past reaches its zenith—a day on which we pore over accounts not only of one particular generation, but of all nearly all generations—it is neither Chanukah nor Pesach, but Tisha B’Av. Tisha B’Av bids us to reflect not only upon the tragedy of one singular historical event, but upon Tragedy as a theme that winds its way throughout Jewish history.
If remembering is a distinctly Jewish enterprise, then Tisha B’Av may just be the most Jewish day of the year. Yet we must be careful. Careful that we not be so Jewish that we forget to be human.
In his book, Stumbling on Happiness, Dr. Daniel Gilbert performs an exercise that he describes as a rite of passage for every psychologist: defining just what it is that sets the human being apart from the rest of the animal kingdom. And he comes up with the following: The human being is the only animal that thinks about the future.
Animals can remember instances of pain or pleasure from the past and use those recollections to make life-preserving decisions in the present. Artificial intelligence can make calculated projections about what the future may look like based upon vast amounts of data from the past. Yet neither can truly imagine—to conjure up an image of what the future could look like and to see that image in the mind’s eye.
But it’s not just a parlor trick relegated to one particular species. This ability, it is found, may well be the difference maker between achieving success in the future and falling short of it. Dr. Charles Garfield, a NASA mathematician-turned-psychologist has done extensive research on peak performance. And what his findings show is that the greatest commonality that exists amongst peak performers—from astronauts to athletes—is the practice of visualization. Peak performers see and feel what is about to happen in all its rich, vivid detail before it ever does. They sense the pressure, feel the sweat on the backs of their necks, and envision their success all in advance of any of it actually becoming manifest. By conjuring up that image, they create a goal so real that the path leading toward it is no longer foreign, and can be fully acted upon.
So I wonder with more than a tinge of concern: does our obsession with the past at times come at the expense of visualizing the future? In our crawling back through the annals of history to make the pain of past generations our own, in the reciting of Kinnos reflecting on tragedies endured by our people, in recalling that all such horrors are the eventual byproduct of a Mikdash destroyed and the strained relationship between Hashem and His people, in doing all this do we forget to imagine and envision? Imagine a world that has been repaired? Envision the glory of a people whose bond with their Creator has been fully healed and strenthened?
Do we remember without visualizing? Are we so Jewish that we forget to be human?
The first word of the haftarah we read on Shabbos provides it with its title: Shabbos Chazon. The haftarah is the image that Yeshaya had of a possible future world—so real that it could be described in great detail. The image is largely a bleak one, of the Jewish People’s continued slide into a state of Churban. But it likewise contains a vision of rebirth and restored glory. A future of repentance and restoration. A future of return and rebuilding.
Chazon means that there is enormous power not only in remembering, but in looking to the future. This is something we do regularly as individuals. And even if it’s an exercise we haven’t perfected, we certainly understand its importance. We don’t want to merely drift through life and arrive at some unintended destination. We want to set a course, through intentional imagination and visualization, and then fill in the steps necessary to get there.
Perhaps Shabbos Chazon reminds us of the importance of that exercise not only on a personal level, but a national one. Are korbanos brought to the Bais HaMikdash only by people wearing turbans and sandals, or suits and ties? Are bikkurim brought to Yerushalyim on the back of a donkey, or even in the trunk of a car? Is the King of Israel someone who appears only the back half of Nevi’im Rishonim, or also on major news outlets and media platforms?
When the vision is sharp and current, an extension of the world we presently know and now only of one that exists in the ancient past, there is a goal tangible enough to move towards. When we close our eyes and create a Chazon, we can more naturally and effectively fill in the steps that will lead us toward it.
Tisha B’Av is dedicated to remembering. But before we remember—the pain and horror of all generations past—let’s also visualize and imagine. So that we not only recall a broken world, but envision a repaired one. A world of love and harmony. Of sensitivity and kindness. A world that measures success not in cars or real estate or toys, but in mitzvos and morality. A world in which the public is more fascinated with talmidei chachamim than with movie stars. In which children are more concerned with growing up to maintain honest business practices than the right batting stance.
Imagine these things. Build the Chazon. Because that’s the first step in making it a reality.