Today as I was walking to shul, I was noticing water running down the street and I wondered what I was supposed to see in it.
I thought of Torah being compared to water, and pictured a spring bursting forth at the top of a mountain. Near its source, the water is deep and swift and strong.
There are great trees there which stand in its path benefiting from the abundance of water, and easily able to withstand the current.
As the water descends the mountain it spreads. The current becomes gentler, the riverbed much wider. A great many plants and animals drink from it here, but the water is not as deep.


Finally the water reaches the level plain where it spreads out very greatly. Here even the most delicate of wildflowers partakes of the moisture it provides.

Depth is almost imperceptible, but the life it gives is every bit as potent.

I think Torah is like that. The Tzaddikim are like the great trees, few and strong, and able to comprehend and absorb Torah at its deepest and most potent.



But even the many wildflowers, those of us who become baffled at the simplest of concepts -- we benefit from the same lifegiving waters.

It should not be our concern that we are not oak trees. Our job is to drink and bloom.



I saw a rock blocking the flow of a stream I passed a short while later, and wondered the meaning. What if the rock is huge and blocks the water?


The water will not stop. It will form a deep lake...

...until finally it pours out in many streams in many directions.

It seems to me that this is like Chassidus. When the world presents barriers to Torah observance through assimilation or indifference etc., there, where the waters DO gather they become deep and even more powerful.

The lake has become full. Already streams are pushing out from its side, watering many fields and many wildflowers. And there will be more.


-Shoshana Zakar 1998

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