Humanity is constantly searching for a better tomorrow. Dissatisfied with our current reality, we endlessly dream of a better world without hardships and sadness. This hope for a better world affirms our conviction that human beings are capable of building a more perfect landscape.
As Jews, we don’t just believe in the possibility of a better tomorrow—we actively yearn and pray for it. As advanced as our world sometimes feels, we acknowledge that ultimately our world is a fallen shell of the more perfect world we were banished from. Through original sin, man was expelled from that world, and through repeated national betrayals Jews fell into a dark world of exile. We constantly yearn for national restoration, religious revival and humanity’s return to its original state of Eden. Though we believe in man’s ability to improve his condition and advance that future, we look to God to provide complete renewal. Humans dream of a better world but Jews view that renewal as the inevitable conclusion of history. The phrase “chadesh yameinu k”kedem” (restore us as in days of yore) is both a prayer as well as a confident assertion of the inevitable terminus of history.
In 1516, Thomas More, a Renaissance humanist, authored a book named “Utopia” and this phrase—adapted from Greek—has encapsulated humanity’s hopes and dreams for that better place. Recently, an approach called “dystopianism” has become popular in the general culture. As opposed to a utopian perspective that anticipates a more advanced world, dystopianism, popularized in books, movies and TV, describes a world of disorder and dysfunction. Typically, in these storylines, an apocalyptic event such as war, contagion, or natural disaster reshuffles the world order, replacing it with a condition of suffering and injustice generally characterized by oppressive governmental control, rampant medical challenges, severe shortages of food and basics, loss of liberty and environmental calamity. Perhaps the most well-known examples from the past century are the books of George Orwell (1984, “Animal Farm”), while in this century, numerous movies and TV programs have been cast against dystopian backgrounds.
At best, these stories provide a glimpse of the fragility of human society and the dangers of irresponsible political, social or environmental policies. However, dystopian culture can offer an artificial escape from the challenges of our reality. Life provides each of us with personal adversity and personal struggle; our triumphs empower us just as our failures and struggles dispirit us. Sometimes, as we feel trapped in our current reality, dystopian prophecies provide an escape: the current world as we know it—complete with our struggles and frustrations—may be ending and may be replaced by a harsher world. The current world is erased and we can start fresh!! Additionally, this future dystopian world is so harsh that mere survival is heroic and we can view ourselves as successful even without accomplishing the goals and milestones of our current world. Dystopia quietly allows us to ignore our failures in this world by anticipating a different world with more minimalist expectations. By introducing a harsher reality, dystopia “lowers the bar” and acquits us from our current failures and struggles.
Of course, Judaism flatly rejects the notion of a sustained dystopia. Four thousand years ago the world descended into dysfunction, forcing God to reboot His world. Inviting Noah into His refreshed world, God promised that the world would never again be destroyed. The world into which Noah exited would be stable and its natural routine preserved. Humanity would sometimes fail and sometimes succeed but the natural world would be indissoluble. Doomsday prophecies about impending apocalypses, meteor collisions, or catastrophic global warming are mistaken. This Divine promise of sustainability doesn’t exempt us from environmental responsibility: As the pinnacle of God’s creation we are also watchmen of His world and mandated to interact with this world in a responsible and balanced fashion. Additionally, there may be apocalyptic events on the road to Messianic utopia, but an enduring condition of sustained dystopia will not emerge. The world as we know it will endure, and whatever challenges we currently face are ours to deal with—they won’t be deleted by a rebooting of the world order or by the introduction of a minimalist and survivalist world.
This message of Parshat Noach frames our view of present and future. Our rabbis instructed us “hayom la’asotam u’l’machar l’kabel secharam” (today is for performance while tomorrow is for reward), discouraging us from escaping into the future world of reward as an escape from the immense challenges and opportunities of this world. Religion is meant to ground us in the “present” even as we are aware of a dazzling future that awaits us. Just as we are anchored to the “present” and shouldn’t escape to Utopia we must also remain fastened to our world without fleeing to Dystopia. Utopia is an actual future reality, yet we mustn’t be hypnotized by it; dystopia is merely a mirage and we certainly shouldn’t be seduced by this illusion.
What is true in general is even more compelling during the current medical crisis—which sometimes can feel dystopian. The world isn’t ending and, at some point, God will help us solve this pandemic. Indeed, under our current conditions, merely surviving and maintaining our sanity demands great courage and significant emotional resources. However, we can’t allow this dystopian situation to lower the bar of our moral and religious journey. Whatever dreams we possessed before 2020 must continue to inspire us even during this crisis. Whatever challenges we faced beforehand remain an essential part of our growth as religious people. Surviving cannot be enough—especially for Jew who lives with a higher purpose and an eternal mission.
Finally, while living through dystopia we can’t forget how close we are to utopia. The past hundred years have witnessed our survival both against brutal Nazi horrors as well as against Communist attempts to eradicate religion. While these storms were raging we tirelessly rebuilt our national fiber and, of course, resettled our ancient homeland. Much of the world was opposed and even overtly hostile to this historical project. Yet we have inched closer to the fulfillment of the great prophecies of our past and of our Book. Dark clouds have now descended upon our world, as humanity, including our own people, suffer this medical pandemic. We may feel like residents of dystopia but we are in fact authors of utopia. One day the clouds will lift and we will see the shining towers of utopia that continue to beckon history forward.
The writer is a rabbi at Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush, a hesder yeshiva. He has semicha and a BA in computer science from Yeshiva University as well as a master’s degree in English literature from the City University of New York.
