The late astrophysicist, Professor Velvel Greene, who worked many years for NASA, once related the following story:
Many years ago, Dr. Greene shared, a noted scientist delivered a lecture at a space science conference on the broader aspects of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration program in the USA. Among other things, the lecturer drew a parallel between the problems that will face space explorers in the future and our current conditions on Earth.
Using a hypothetical manned voyage to the nearest star, Alpha Centauri, as an example, he emphasized the remarkable engineering, biological, and sociological problems that would be encountered during the execution of this enterprise. Since the star is 4.3 light-years away, even a spaceship traveling at 1,000 miles per second would require more than 800 years to get there and another 800 years to get back. Any original crew we launched would not survive for even a fraction of the mission’s duration. Instead, we would have to “man” the capsule with men and women who would have children who would carry on the mission. These children would themselves have children, continuing this for 1,600 years. Ultimately, after many generations, the remote progeny of the original crew would complete the mission.
This interstellar spaceship would have to be completely self-sustaining and self-supporting. But the lecturer pointed out that the engineering and technical problems are only one side of the coin. In the spaceship, the crew would have to learn to tolerate each other, generation after generation. They would have to learn, and learn quickly, that you don’t blow up only part of a spaceship.
And then the speaker touched on a key topic: Would the fiftieth generation, after a thousand years, still share the aspirations of their pilgrim fathers who set out from Earth so long ago? How, indeed, can you convey to a generation still unborn the basic information about where they came from, where they are going, why they are going there, how to get there, and how to get back?
One of the scientists stood up, and to my surprise and delight, declared: “If we could figure out how the Jewish people managed to survive these thousands of years, we’d have our answer!”
The scientist was on target. To a Jew, this story is no mere fantastic flight of imagination; it captures our millennia-long narrative. Almost four millennia ago, Abraham heard a call to become a blessing for all mankind. Over three thousand years ago, at Mount Sinai, we were launched with specific instructions and suitable maps. And we were told that we ought to transmit this mission to our children and grandchildren, for generations to come. The task was to bring healing and redemption to the world.
We were charged with the mission to reveal that the universe has a soul, that humanity has a soul, that each of us has a soul. That we are living in G-d’s world, and our mission is to transcend our superficial shells and reveal the infinite oneness that unites us all.
For more than a hundred generations we knew where we came from, where we were going, why we were traveling, who was the Project Officer, and how to get back. We had no real difficulty in transmitting this intelligence unbroken from generation to generation—even to generations who were not physically present during “take-off” at Sinai. How? Because the Torah, our Divine logbook, contained macro and micro guidance. Notwithstanding all challenges, this logbook has met the only real criterion of the empirical scientists—it worked. Our presence demonstrated that it worked.
As long as we did not allow an interruption in the transmitting of the Torah from generation to generation, the mission and the people remained intact.
RABBI YY JACOBSON
