In 2005, the hit show Mythbusters which attempts to prove or disprove common myths, tested the truth of a familiar proverb: a rolling stone gathers no moss. The proverb’s original meaning seems to have been that if a person spends his whole life rolling and never settling down, he will not obtain success, but it has developed other meanings as well.
To test this myth, the Mythbusters team created a rotating moist barrel, with three rocks rolling around the barrel for six months while another three rocks remained stagnant. Believe it or not, while the stationary rocks grew moss, the rolling stones gathered no moss.
This phrase, which has inspired the title to Bob Dylan’s classic “Like a Rolling Stone” and the famous English Rock band The Rolling Stones, first appeared in the English language in the 16th century but seems to have originated almost two thousand years ago from Latin origins.
And while it may not have had as large an impact on culture as the moss free rolling stone, many of us are familiar with another important lesson learned from stones that predates this saying, found at the beginning of this week’s parsha.
Yaakov is on the run from his brother Esav, and as the sun sets, he settles down for the night. In the midst of his prophetic dream of angels ascending and descending a ladder to the heavens, Rashi tells us that unbeknownst to Yaakov, beneath his sleeping body a fight erupted among the stones below him.
One of the rocks, presumably somewhat off to the side, proclaims “alai yaniach tzadik et rosho” “the righteous man should lay on me.”
Another rock: “alai yaniach tzadik et rosho” “the righteous man should lay on me.”
As the scuffle develops, G-d decides to intervene; suddenly the rocks become one. They merge together forming one large stone, ending the squabble.
We all understand that rocks are inanimate objects. Rocks have neither feelings nor the ability to speak. But with a Midrash as popular as this one, it behooves us to figure out the important message that Chazal and every grade school morah and rebbe are trying to teach us.
If we think for a moment about this familiar Midrash, we may find the message a bit odd. Yaakov’s head can only occupy one space, and undeniably there will be some rocks which are left out. Yet after they raise a ruckus, Hashem performs a miracle to intervene:
What is the lesson? No one is entitled to something if others cannot have the same thing? Granted, there may be times in life when it is important to stand up against an injustice, but is the complaint of the rocks legitimate? Is the Midrash teaching us that if we do not have something, we should whine, complain, and bicker until we get it? Are we comfortable with schools teaching our children that jealousy and fighting are what lead to triumph?
I would like to share a seemingly unrelated halacha that I came across this week to provide insight into this Midrash.
There is a halacha maalim b’kedusha vein moridin– we are permitted, in fact encouraged, to increase the sanctity of an item, but we may not decrease its sanctity. For example, if I decide to take my tallit and use it as tablecloth, that would be inappropriate: I am diminishing its stature as a holy item and making it mundane. But if I have a nice white woolen tablecloth at home that I would like to turn into a tallit, there would not be a problem with that. Maalim b’kedusha vein moridin, we may increase the kedusha of an item, but not decrease.
The question that becomes tricky is if the same item has different levels of kedusha. Take again my tallit for example: many assume that the attara, the part which drapes over their head, has more sanctity than the bottom of the tallit. Would a person be allowed to flip his tallit upside down, designating the attara as the new bottom of the tallit, and marking the bottom as the new top of the tallit?
Rav Elijah Shapiro, who was a major Rabbi in Prague at the beginning of the 18th century, provides a fascinating answer to this question printed in his commentary to Shulchan Aruch, the Elyah Rabbah. He quotes none other than our Midrash of Yaakov Avinu and the rocks.
After the rocks quarreled and were miraculously fused together, why were they satisfied? Take for example these two chairs behind me, and imagine the chairs were fighting as to whom the Rabbi should sit upon. And like our Midrash, say that to resolve this fight the chairs fused together, forming some sort of a bench. Nothing really changed: the Rabbi will not be occupying both seats of the bench. The empty chair is still an empty chair; it is merely attached to the occupied seat.
If Yaakov is lying on this group of rocks, whichever rock is complaining is still not going to merit Yaakov’s head. Yaakov’s head did not increase in size, whichever rock complained remains empty, and is only attached to the place that Yaakov lays.
Why were the rocks satisfied? The tzaddik’s head still does not rest on them?
The Elyah Rabbah explains, that once the rocks are one, it no longer matters where exactly Yaakov’s head rests: the large rock is one item, and the merit they seek spreads throughout.
Similarly, my tallit has one kedusha. There is no higher level of kedusha for one part of the tallit over another; it is one item like that one rock. And therefore, argues the Elyah Rabbah, I would not be diminishing the kedusha of any part of the tallit by switching the attara to the other side.
This halachik extrapolation of the Elyah Rabbah provides a fresh way of viewing this Midrash. We asked if the Midrash is teaching us to relentlessly complain until we get what we want. But what was it that each rock wanted? “Alay yanich tzaddik et rosho”- he should lay his head upon me.
G-d fusing the rocks together was not a concession to their complaint, for they remained positioned exactly as they were before. Fusing the rocks together changed the perspective of the rocks: the rocks realized that it no longer mattered where Yaakov’s head lay; once the rocks came together, they no longer cared about the trivial location of Yaakov’s head. The rocks were not rewarded for their bickering; they were taught a lesson by realizing that they were one unit.
The Ramban writes that there were twelve rocks placed under Yaakov Avinu, twelve rocks which came together into one large stone, and their merging together represents the achdut, the camaraderie of the twelve tribes who would emerge from Yaakov, the unity of the Jewish people.
Developing true achdut does not mean we must all be the same. On the contrary- the twelve shevatim were vastly different. The Zohar states that Hashem created 12 shevatim to allow for diversity of interest, different personalities, different geographic locations and jobs, different ways of serving Hashem. Just as the rocks were content after becoming one unit, so too the shevatim are contented after realizing they are one unit of the Jewish people
The variety of the twelve shevatim is the paradigm of achdut. Diversity is not a contradiction to unity. Diversity is the result of unity. We can respect and appreciate each other’s differences only after we acknowledge that we are a unit. When we come together, we no longer require each of us to be the same, but we are comfortable with our differences.
The Jewish people would certainly gain by realizing this oneness, but we can live this message in our personal lives as well. Whether it be in our community or our families, the moment we realize that we are one unit, we become tolerant and appreciative of our differences. If every husband and wife would view themselves as one unit, they would bring more peace into their home. If parents and children could feel that they are one family unit, they would respect one another, even if they do not always view things the same way. And as a shul we must view ourselves not merely as a place to daven, but a place to form a community unit.
A rolling stone gathers no moss. As we roll through life, we often fail to look beyond ourselves, which prevents us from gathering the positive moss of our relationships. To develop achdut in all areas of our lives, we must stop rolling, and internalize the message of Yaakov’s stones, who came together to realize and appreciate each other for their differences.
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