Ecology is a highly practical branch of science. Nothing could be more "down
to earth" than preservation of the planet. Yet there is a facet of ecological
awareness that is often overlooked. This is its spiritual dimension. When we act
as self-absorbed individuals, with little regard for anyone or anything that
exists outside ourselves, we immediately fall into moral and spiritual error. As
the Yiddish saying goes, "A blind horse heads straight for the pit!"
Thus, countless laws in the Torah adjure us to open our eyes, and act
responsibly and compassionately toward the world around us. Among other
ecological mandates, it promulgates the laws of bal tashchis (neither to
destroy wantonly, nor waste resources unnecessarily); the prohibition of
cutting down fruit trees surrounding an enemy city in wartime; the
laws of covering excrement, and removing debris from public places, etc. In
doing so, the Torah indicates that although we may feel at odds with nature,
having to struggle to survive, in truth the world comprises a potentially
harmonious whole in which each element is precious.
Rav Avraham Yitzhak Kook (1865-1935), Chief Ashkenazic Rabbi of pre-state
Israel and a leading 20th century thinker, expresses this idea compellingly: "If
you are amazed at how it is possible to speak, hear, smell, touch, see,
understand, and feel -- tell your soul that all living
things collectively confer upon you the fullness of your experience. Not the
least speck of existence is superfluous, everything is needed, and everything
serves its purpose. 'You' are present within everything that is beneath you, and
your being is bound up with all that transcends you."1
A spiritually attuned person will recognize that every creature is
essentially bound up with every other creature, and that we share a collective
destiny. Thus, our most fundamental attitude should be one of compassion, not
acquisitiveness or aggression. This ethic applies toward all levels of creation.
As master kabbalist Rabbi Moshe Cordovero of Safed ("RaMaK," 1522-1570) adjures:
"One's compassion should extend to all creatures, and one should neither despise
nor destroy them; for the Supernal Wisdom [i.e. divine wisdom that brings all
existence into being] extends to all of creation --
the "silent" or mineral level, plants, animals, and humans. This is why our
sages have warned us against treating food disrespectfully. Just as the Supernal
Wisdom despises nothing, since everything is produced there --
as it is written, 'You have formed them all with wisdom' (Psalms
104:24) -- a person should show compassion to all of
the works of the Holy One, blessed be He."2
The RaMaK's words bespeak a G-d-centered view of the universe, as opposed to
one that is man-centered or nature-centered. In the words of the Baal Shem Tov
(Rabbi Israel ben Eliezer, founder of Chassidism, 1698-1760), we must seek the
welfare of all precisely because we are equally G-d's works, created to perform
His will.
"Do not consider yourself superior to anyone else . . ." the founder of
Chassidism states. "In truth, you are no different than any other creature,
since all things were brought into being to serve G-d. Just as G-d bestows
consciousness upon you, He bestows consciousness upon your fellow man. In what
way is a human being superior to a worm? A worm serves the Creator with all of
his intelligence and ability; and man, too, is compared to a worm, as the verse
states, 'I am a worm and not a man' (Psalms 22:7). If G-d had not given you a
human intellect, you would only be able to serve Him like a worm. In this sense,
you are both equal in the eyes of Heaven. A person should consider himself, the
worm, and all creatures as friends in the universe, for we are all created
beings whose abilities are G-d-given." 3
This kinship of all creation and shared mission of serving G-d, each creature
in its own way, is often compared to a cosmic song. As we recite during the
Sabbath prayers, "The soul of every living being shall bless Your Name . . . All
hearts shall revere You, and every innermost part shall sing to Your Name."
Indeed, when the Talmud describes the mysteries of the Ma'aseh Merkavah
("Workings of the Chariot," i.e. the mystical experience), it associates this
prophetic wisdom with song. The sages relate how Rabbi Elazar ben Arach
demonstrated his preparedness to engage in the study of these mysteries before
his teacher, Rabbi Yochanan -- at which point the
trees of the field were encompassed by heavenly fire and broke into song,
echoing the verses of Psalm 148: "Praise G-d from the Earth, sea giants and all
watery depths . . . mountains and hills, fruitful trees and all cedars . . .
Praise G-d!"4
If we listen closely, this song still may be heard. Rabbi Aryeh Levin (the "tzaddik
of Jerusalem, 1885-1969), told how he once was walking in the fields with his
mentor, Rav Avraham Yitzhak Kook. In the course of their Torah discussion, Rabbi
Levin picked a flower. At this, Rav Kook remarked, "All my days I have been
careful never to pluck a blade of grass or a flower needlessly, when it had the
ability to grow or blossom. You know the teaching of our sages that not a single
blade of grass grows here on Earth that does not have an angel above it,
commanding it to grow. Every sprout and leaf says something meaningful, every
stone whispers some hidden message in the silence --
every creation sings its song." 5
"These words of our great master," Rabbi Levin concluded, "spoken from a pure
and holy heart, engraved themselves deeply in my heart. From that day on, I
began to feel a strong sense of compassion for all things."
So may it be for us who hear this story today and contemplate its perennial
truth.
