Your Body is Your Donkey

Although they don't carry quite the same level of drama found in previous parshiot, I really enjoy reading the aspects of civil law expounded in parashat Mishpatim, which we read last week.  One of the things I find so fascinating about traditional Judaism is the code of ethics at its core--fundamental to the religion is the understanding that how people treat one another is just as important as all the ritualistic displays of piety.

There are several verses within Mishpatim that I could probably spend hours discussing, but one of my favorites is as follows:

"If you see the donkey of someone you hate collapsing under its burden and would refrain from helping him, you shall surely help with him." (Shemot 23:5)

On its surface, this verse explains that it is virtuous to come to the aid even of a person whom you might have good cause to hate.  While one's first response might be to let the hated person (and his animal) suffer, one should not let those negative emotions get in the way of offering assistance.  That interpretation of the verse has always been the one with which I've grappled, but this past week I learned of a new way to read the text that allows me to interact with it in an entirely new way.

The Hebrew word for donkey (chamor) shares the same root as the word for physicality (chomer).  The Baal Shem Tov explains that a person might see his/her body as the enemy of the soul, unable to live up to the soul's lofty aspirations.  In such a case, the person might seek to punish the body by ignoring its needs or trying to pound it into submission.  According to the Baal Shem Tov, through this verse the Torah instructs us to resist the urge to discipline our bodies through deprivation or suffering--rather, we should seek to nurture and refine our physical selves.

This idea resonates with me because it addresses head-on the trap that many of us fall into--viewing our physicality as our enemy.  When we become convinced that our bodies are what block us from reaching our full potential, it is a natural response for us to attempt to "revamp" our physical selves through training regimens that inevitably place our bodies under considerable strain.  The actual process might look different for each of us, but the outline is the same:

Thought:  My body is not cooperating.
Action:  Discipline, discipline, discipline--the harsher, the better!
Outcome:  The body collapses.
(And, yes--in some way, shape, or form, that is ALWAYS the outcome.)

The Torah teaches us to take a different approach.  Rather than view our bodies as obstacles that must be overcome in order to live our best lives, perhaps we should find ways to see the G-dliness within our physical selves.  Instead of ignoring our bodies when they cry out to us, maybe we could try a compassionate approach and offer our bodies the rest and comfort that they need.  It's true that the body is different from the soul--it is more focused on the "here and now," and is less concerned with the abstract, spiritual pursuits that occupy the soul.  When we are trying to transform our internal selves into more evolved people, it can be frustrating to take into account the limits and needs of our physical selves.  However, our bodies are not nuisances to be fought or ignored.  Just like our souls, our bodies were also created by Hashem and need to be cared for and assisted so that we can become our best, most integrated selves.

I wish for all of us the willingness to understand that self-improvement does not need to come at the expense of our bodies.  Our challenge is to seek out a state of balance between our spiritual and physical selves, in which all aspects of ourselves work together to create a unified, harmonious whole.  The Torah's command is a good place to start--the next time you notice that your body is straining under its burden, instead of looking the other way, try extending compassion to it, instead!