Shavuot (Haftarot)

Ezekiel’s Vision of the Merkavah

It is with some trepidation that I approach the task of writing about the haftarah for Shavuot—Ezekiel’s vision of the Merkavah, the Heavenly Chariot (1:1-28; 3:12). Jewish tradition, both mystical and otherwise, regards this text as the central mystical text of the Bible, alluding to profound, esoteric secrets about the Godhead. The Mishnah, in Hagiggah 2, describes this as the most carefully guarded subject matter in the entire Torah, not to be taught publicly, but only in an intimate teacher-disciple setting, to one who is “wise, and understands by himself”; even then, the Talmud adds, only “via its chapter headings,” that is, allusively. There is even an opinion in the mishnah that, due to the esoteric and potentially dangerously nature of this passage, it is not to be read in the synagogue, but this is overridden in terms of the halakhah (m. Megillah 4.8). Even so staunch a “rationalist” as Maimonides saw this chapter (interpreted by his own lights) as a central element in his own theology; the exposition of Ma’aseh Merkavah was one of the central purposes in his writing the Guide to the Perplexed, which he proceeds to do obliquely and indirectly, in the spirit of the mishnah, in the opening chapters of Book III.

The reason for the choice of this reading for Shavuot seems clear enough. Just as Shavuot was the day for the great public epiphany at Sinai (described in the Torah reading from Exodus 19-20), it is also seen as a time uniquely suited for personal mystical epiphanies. (See what I wrote last year here on this subject, regarding Rabbi Simeon bar Yohai, Rav Yosef Caro, etc.) In this selfsame context, Ezekiel’s vision is seen both as the archetype and as a source for personal mystical vision.

In contrast to the deep reverence and even awe with which this chapter is regarded by the tradition, there is a tendency of some modern people to dismiss this chapter out of hand as the ravings of a lunatic. I have heard people of a rationalist bent, including those who are religiously observant, dismiss this and other bizarre visions in the Book of Ezekiel as, essentially, expressions of a half-demented, if not deranged personality.

I would not venture to interpret this text per se. But what does need to be emphasized is that there are certain experiences in this life that are beyond the ken of the average person, and a certain respectful silence and suspension of judgment are the best counsel for approaching this chapter. The chapter as a whole is an attempt to convey an overwhelming vision, an experience that culminated in a sense of the presence of the Divine, through which Ezekiel felt that he came to know certain profound secrets about the very essence of God. It must be read as a kind of puzzle, as an attempt to convey in words and in the description of visual symbols that which ultimately cannot be expressed. If we do not understand it, it behooves us to acknowledge the fact that perhaps the lack is in ourselves, and not to engage in reductionism.

Carl Jung and his followers spoke of certain images which are part of the “collective unconscious” of mankind; symbols for the deepest levels of our experience, of forgotten truths, in some cases known by mankind in ancient times. These were obscured by layers of the more pragmatic, functional, technique-oriented civilization of later ages, which created sophisticated technologies and highly organized societies, but in the process blunted mankind’s sensitivity to these depth symbols. Perhaps such an approach may be a way to enter into this chapter, and its strange symbols—the wheels within the wheels; the creatures with the four faces, of ox, lion, eagle and human being; and above them all the mysterious figure of God enthroned, his upper body disappearing into the impenetrable mists of the Infinite. Perhaps the best way to conclude is with the words of the Slavonic Apocalypse of Enoch, which describes a similar mystical epiphany:

“Thus even I saw the face of the Lord. But the face of the Lord is not to be talked about, It is so very marvelous and supremely awesome and supremely frightening. And who am I to give an account of the incomprehensible being of the Lord, and of his face, so extremely strange and indescribable?” (2 Enoch 22:1-2, MS. J)

Habakkuk’s Hymn

On the second day of the festival, celebrated in the Diaspora, the haftarah is the prayer/song of the prophet Habakkuk, with which the book that bears his name concludes (2:20-3:19). The opening section of this poem provides a dramatic account of the Sinaitic revelation: “God approaches from Teman, the Holy One from Mount Paran, his glory covers the heavens, the earth is filled with his praise… rays flash from his hand… He stood, and measured the earth, looked and shook the nations…” (vv. 3-6). Even those parts of the poem that do not directly relate to the Sinai revelation are imbued with a sense of God’s power and his awesome presence, beginning with the very first verse: “The Lord is in his holy Temple, let all the earth be silent before him.” In some congregations, the atmosphere of mystery and holiness is further enhanced by the recitation of the mystical poem Yetziv pitgam (somewhat analogous to the poem Akdamot read on the first day), following the first verse of the haftarah.