The Chassidic Rebbe, Simchah Bunem, used to teach his students:” Everyone must have two pockets, so that he can reach into the one or the other, according to his needs. In his right pocket are to be the words bishvili nivra ha’olam. “For me was the world created.” And in his left, va’anochi afar va’efer. “For I am but dust and ashes.” Knowing when to remove each piece of paper, is the challenge.
Sometimes, we need to be assertive, to place ourselves and our own needs at the center of our concern. Other situations demand that we step down, and recognize how small and insignificant we are in the span of space and time.
As it turns out, va’anochi afar va’efer — “For I am but dust and ashes” — appears in this morning’s Torah portion.
וְאָנֹכִ֖י עָפָ֥ר וָאֵֽפֶר
But before we find out where, let’s see if we can figure out what it means. Afar va’efer. Afar with an ayin. Efer with an alef. Two different, unrelated words, but together, as an alliteration, expressing something profound.
Afar – “Dust” with an ayin — brings us back to creation. In the Garden of Eden, the first human is created out of the dust of the earth. Afar min ha’adamah. God gathers the raw materials together in the shape of a person, but it only becomes a human being when God blows the breath of life into its nostrils.
To compare oneself to dust, therefore invokes our origins, the raw materials from our physical selves are made.
Efer – “Ashes” with an alef, are what are left over after something has been completely burnt. Through combustion, a thing that was once alive has been rendered into its inorganic parts. All of the organic components have become oxidized and are no longer present. In other words, ashes are what are left over after all traces of life are gone.
To compare oneself to ashes invokes the end of our physical selves. What is left over after anything that once marked us as individuals is gone.
Together “dust and ashes” describe the parts of our timeline which are devoid of life. Before the soul entered our bodies, and after the materials out of which our bodies are comprised have lost their cohesion.
This expression Afar va’efer, appears just three times in the entire Tanakh. Once in this morning’s Torah portion, Parashat Vayera, and twice in the book of Job.
Vayera opens with three angels, disguised as men, coming to visit Abraham with a message that in one year, he and Sarah will have a son together. Message delivered, two of the angels leave, while one sticks around for a further conversation.
God has seen the wickedness of the people of Sodom and Gomorrah, and determined to destroy the cities entirely. But first, God turns inward to ask Godself:
Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do,
since Abraham is to become a great and populous nation and all the nations of the earth are to bless themselves by him?
For I have singled him out, that he may instruct his children and his posterity to keep the way of the Lord by doing what is just and right, in order that the Lord may bring about for Abraham what has been promised him.
True to God’s assessment of him, Abraham challenges God’s eagerness to punish the innocent along with the wicked, asking God to spare the cities if fifty innocent people can be found living there. In a bold rebuke, Abraham declares “Shall the judge of all the earth not do that which is just?!”
God agrees, and it turns out that this was just the opening of the negotiations. Abraham will lower the number to 45, 40, 30, 20, and finally 10 innocent people to spare the wicked cities. But first, he employs our phrase
Here I venture to speak to my lord, I who am but dust and ashes
What does this expression mean in this context?
At first glance, it might seem to be an expression of humility. But what Abraham has just done and will continue to do seems quite bold. He has essentially told God that if You do not behave justly, you don’t deserve to be God.
This is not behavior that most of people would describe as humble.
What about Job? He uses the expression twice.
The first instance is in the midst of a long speech in which he is describing his suffering in most vivid terms. He laments how even the dregs of society, the worst of the worst, look down on him.
By night my bones feel gnawed;
My sinews never rest.With great effort I change clothing;
The neck of my tunic fits my waist.
And then comes our verse
He cast me down to the clay,
I have become like dust and ashes.
Here dust and ashes does not describe humility as a moral character trait, but seems to be almost literal. Just as people walk on dust and ashes without a second thought, without even noticing, Job too feels like he is being trampled underfoot.
His entire existence has been reduced to insignificance. “Dust and ashes” is a lament of self-pity.
He uses the term once more, in the final chapter. In face, they are the last words he utters in the entire book that bears his name. After forty long chapters struggling to understand the meaning of his suffering, and rejecting all of the theological accusations and explanations of his so-called friends, God appears to Job out of the whirlwind. And basically says, “I’m God. Who the heck are you?”
And so, Job backs down.
Therefore, I recant and relent,
Being but dust and ashes.
This is Job’s final utterance. He realizes that his earlier complaints have been misguided. Job has been seeking some sort of reason for his suffering, a rational explanation for why he has been brought so low.
But he never gets it. When he comes face to face with the awesome, terrifying Divine Presence, Job finally discovers that, as a mere mortal, comprised of “dust and ashes,” he is simply incapable of understanding God’s nature. Human concepts of justice and morality do not apply to God. It is pointless to try to discover any purpose to Creation that would make sense to us.
For both Abraham and Job, “dust and ashes” seems to be an expression of humility. It is a recognition that our existence on earth is temporary, that our imperfect bodies are made of material that comes together for only a brief moment in time.
We should also note that for both of them, the phrase “dust and ashes” occurs in the context of challenging God’s justice. They both react instinctively to what they percieve as God’s unjust behavior.
We all have that instinct. “It’s not fair.” Sometimes we experience it when we feel that we ourselves have been denied something we are owed. Sometimes we experience when we see or hear of injustice perpetrated against someone else.
“Dust and ashes” is how Job describes himself when he finally stops accusing God of injustice. He realizes that human standards of morality do not apply to God.
For Abraham, it is the opposite. “Dust and ashes” is how he describes himself when he first begins to accuse God of injustice.
Perhaps another difference is that Job has been going through an existential crisis, arguing for justice on behalf of himself. Abraham, on the other hand, has been fighting to protect other people.
Maybe that is the point of having this as one of the two phrases that we are supposed to have in our pockets. Recognizing our smallness, the limited time that we have on earth, means that we have to make use of that time for good. To, as Abraham demonstrates, “keep the way of the Lord by doing what is just and right,” even when that might mean putting ourselves at risk.
But also, recognizing that the universe does not owe us anything. It is ok, as Job finally discovers, to accept ourselves as we are. To accept that God does not owe us any explanations. And then to make the most of it, as if the world was created for us. Maybe that is true humility.
Rebyehoshua 