My dad brought me up to believe in The Who. Sure, there was some talk of God in our
home, but deification seemed to be reserved for Roger Daltrey, Pete Townshend
and their crew. Quadrophenia was the ancient music of our ancestors.
A crash course in Quadrophenia – it’s a rock opera about a
boy named Jimmy who’s
In fact, Pete Townshend said the following of God’s
connection to Quadrophenia and “Love, Reign O’er Me”: “Quadrophenia is music,
it's angry music, it never lets up, it's full of energy. But it's also simply a
story of a kid who has a bad day. It rains and he goes and sits on a rock. And
he contemplates the future and the present, and he decides to do something that
he's never done before - he prays.”
Jimmy (or rather, Roger Daltrey) sings the lyrics:
Only love can bring the rain
That makes you yearn to the sky
Only love can bring the rain
That falls like tears from on high
That makes you yearn to the sky
Only love can bring the rain
That falls like tears from on high
Love, reign o’er me!
What does it mean for God’s love to pour over us, or at
least to be coming our way at all? Love is a human attribute…an attribute we
very often assign to God. This can be acceptable to you or not, depending on
what sort of God concept you believe in. It is easier to say “God loves you” if
you believe in a single, definable entity you call God. It becomes much harder
if you have a different sort of notion: that God is a unifying force, or a
process that’s driving in our world. How can a process “love”?
We can begin investigating “God’s love” with mystical
thought. The medieval kabbalists believed that God's self could not be
understood, but that God has revealed attributes that interact with each other
and the world. One of these 10 attributes is hesed, usually translated as
“lovingkindness,” an English word that in it’s own right needs a translation.
The kabbalists say that hesed, lovingkindness, represents the generous,
benevolent side of God, the quality of unconditional Divine Love. Hesed is
often translated in the mystical context as "love,"
"compassion," or "grace."
Rabbi Bradley Artson, the dean of the rabbinical school at
American Jewish University, draws on these ideas of benevolent generosity. Drawing from the ideas of Martin Buber,
reminds us that love, even between people, is covenantal, meaning it is a
two-way street. He says,
“Covenantal love, we are told, nurtures understanding and
generosity; seeing the best in your lover; seeing the best in your children; in
your community; in humanity; in the world; and then with similar generosity,
sharing in their struggles; sharing in their efforts…Chesed is the integration
of values and emotions with deeds…There is so much bounty manifest in this
world, a harvest which we did nothing to deserve. We were simply born into a
world that was prepared across the millennia for our arrival. Our task in the
world is to savor the bounty, to delight in it, to steward it and to help each
other to do the same.”
Artson points to a crucial aspect of hesed – love is not just
a feeling; it’s an action. Perhaps it is the same with God. Not is not a
“thing,” God is an action. As love is a process, God is a process. Maybe it’s
not that God loves, but that God is love. God is within the love we
So then, if we keep with the platitude, “God loves you,”
perhaps God “loves” differently than we “love.” I manifest my love to my
daughter by taking care of her daily needs. I change her diaper, I feed her, I
hug her, kiss her goodnight. We say God takes care of our daily needs, but not
in the same way. God doesn’t feed me, but God certainly exists in the processes
that make the plants grow, enables the workers who make my food, etc. God loves
through us. God loves Noah because I love Noah. God loves our religious school
kids because we as a community love them. God loves you because this community
loves you and, hopefully, most importantly, you love it back.
But there’s one more piece to the hesed puzzle. There’s also
an overwhelming aspect of “generosity” to the word hesed.
Alan Morinis, the founding director of the Mussar Institute
shares: “Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler, a master of Mussar, pointed to the close
correlation between love and acts of generosity and asked, “Do we give to the
people we love, or do we love the people to whom we give?” His answer: “We
usually think it is love which causes giving, because we observe that a person
showers gifts and favors on the person he loves. But there is another side to the
argument….A person comes to love the one to whom he gives.” To foster love, he
taught, be generous: extend what you have in your hands and in your heart
toward other human beings. Love will grow along the lines of your giving.
Dessler says: “That which a person gives to another is never lost. It is an
extension of his own being.”
What a nice way to look at things as we head into the
Hanukkah season, a time when we will give material things. Of course we give to
the people we love…but a wonderful challenge is how we can come to love others
by giving to them first. Morinis adds: “The linguistic root of ahava, the
Hebrew word for love, literally means “to offer” or “to give.” The act of
giving bridges the gap between souls and initiates the process of soul-merger
that is the very definition of love.” Those boxes out in the hall for “The Gift
of Hanukkah” and “Toys for Tots” are not full of presents, they are full of
love.
And so in this way, shifting our language may help us to
understand God and “God’s love.” Rather than God gives (which conjures up
images of a Divine hand outstretched towards humans, delivering things out of
nothing), God is giving. God is loving. God doesn’t necessarily love you with a
big bear hug, but God is loving you by cradling you in community. Love is a
manifestation of God, rather than something God does.
A midrash (Bereshit Rabbah 33:3):
There was a drought in the time of R. Tanchuma. Tanchuma
declared a fast in order to ask for rain. Three days went by, no rain. He then
entered the synagogue to preached to them: “Be good to one another, give
tzedekah to the poor, and then God will be filled with compassion for you.” As
they were distributing tzedekah, R. Tanchuma’s students saw a man giving money
to a woman he had no business talking to. “Why would you give to that woman?”
Tanchuma asked. The man replied, “I saw she was in trouble and I was filled
with mercy for her.” Tanchuma then turned his face to the sky and exclaimed,
“Ruler of the Universe! This man saw this woman in distress and was filled with
mercy for her – even though he owed her nothing. As we are children of Abraham,
Isaac and Jacob, all the moreso you should have compassion on us!” Immediately
the rain descended and the world enjoyed relief.
A more anthropomorphic God, sure. Yet, we’d be shortsighted
to only see the love in this story as the love God bestows on the community
through rain. The love the rained down in this midrash is also found in the
bonds of human to human. The giving from one to another is the love, and that
love is God. May we find that love in our own community, our own relationships,
in our lives. Ken yhi ratzon.
Closing
Perhaps the most distinctive aspect of “Love, Reign O’er
Me,” other than the rain and thunder, is the way that Roger Daltrey sang it
with a shriek in his voice. Apparently, Pete Townshend intended the song be
sung quietly, while Daltrey interpreted it as a scream. Same prayer, different
feeling. So it is with love. Sometimes love is passionate, sometimes it is
quiet. Sometimes ostentatious, sometimes private. And God too. Sometimes we
feel God close, or loud. Sometimes God feels hidden. God’s still there, may we
just remain open to that. Shabbat Shalom.
