The World to Come

Jerusalem is the capital of the Jewish Kingdom, but it has outposts in every Jewish home. London is the capital of the European Kingdom, but it has outposts in every county. While the captains of the English Kingdoms fought and died to increase their portion in this world, our fathers were fighting and dying to increase their portion in the next.

What has become of all those noble families? First Henry set upon Richard, then Richard set upon Henry, pretty soon, they were all dead. And then there was a new crop of Henrys and Richards, and they set upon each other too, and pretty soon they were all dead again. But this time, there was no new crop of Henrys, and there was no new crop of Richards. 

The English Kingdom, if you can call it that, hasn’t changed in almost 1000 years. It’s still right there, just off the coast of France, with its capital sitting right on the banks of the Thames. The English People, for their part, haven’t changed either. Ask an Englishman when his family got to England, and he’ll look at you funny.

“Why, we know my mother’s family’s been here since at least the Normans and my father’s family are old Anglo-Saxon well beyond that. 

One thousand years. Fifty generations, all in one place. 

Ask a Jewish person when his family got to London he’ll say it was last week. Or maybe last generation. The generation before that lived in Germany. And before that they lived in Austria. And before that they lived in Holland. And that’s only five generations. 

But the Jews don’t live in the Jewish Kingdom; the Jewish Kingdom lives in the Jews. While all those Richards and Henrys were running around chasing their portion in this world, the Jews were all at home building their portion in the next. 

“Olam Haba,” the World to Come. But the World to Come does not mean heaven, it just means the future. The next day, the next week, the next year, the next lifetime. The world just keeps coming, everyday, and everyday we must earn our portion in it. The labor we do in this world, the world of today, will manifest itself in the fruits of the World to Come, the World of Tomorrow. 

When Henry killed Richard, he won the Kingdom in this world, but he lost it in the next. It wasn’t long before Richard’s descendants came back and killed Henry’s, thus causing him to lose the Kingdom. And on that day, Richard had the Kingdom of this world. But he lost it on the next. For there was a new Henry, a Henry sent from the World to Come, coming now to deliver unto Richard the same fate that Richard had given to the previous Henry. And on that day, Henry had the Kingdom of this world. And Henry begat two sons, one named Arthur and one named Henry. But Arthur died childless, and then Henry the father died, and, on that day, Henry had the Kingdom of this world. But he would not keep it, for he could bear no healthy sons. And within two generations of Henry’s death, there were no more Richards and no more Henrys. At one time or another, they all had the Kingdom of this World. But something must always come after one time or another. Something must always come. 

When the Richards and the Henrys were fighting their wars, my family lived in the Kingdom of Aragon. I don’t know who they were, I don’t know what they did; I don’t even know what their names were. All I know about them is that they lived in the Kingdom of Aragon, and they were Jewish. I know they were Jewish because I am Jewish. And I couldn’t have been Jewish if my parents hadn’t lived as Jews, and their parents hadn’t lived as Jews, and if their parents’ parents lived as Jews. 

Around the time the penultimate Henry took the throne, my family was kicked out of Aragon, then called Spain. Well, not exactly kicked out. They were given the choice of exile and conversion, and I know what they chose. I know what they chose because I am Jewish, and I couldn’t have been Jewish if they had chosen otherwise. 

After fleeing from Spain, my family probably moved to one of the Principalities of Germany. Around the time of the ultimate Henry, the princely families of Germany got up to fighting one another, so my family had to flee again. 

By the time the last Henry died, my family was once again on its way east, towards what would one day be called the Pale of Settlement, where all of the homeless, landless, Kingdomless Jews would go. 

I know all of this because it didn’t happen that long ago. This world, the one we’re living in as you read this, only got here just this minute. One hundred years ago, this world was unimaginable. A world of delights and comforts not one of our ancestors could have dreamed of. Food in such abundance we can throw it away. Communication so advanced we can listen to the dead. Comfort so convenient that we don’t ever have to worry about the weather if we don’t want to. 

If you had shown my great grandmother all of this while she was eating old potato soup in the freezing Russian winter, it would have looked like heaven. Hell, I don’t even think she had ever seen the ocean. Imagine if she knew I could drive to the beach right now and be back before I’m done writing this story.

Heaven isn’t floating up above us; it’s waiting right in front of us. But heaven isn’t free. The World to Come is coming, and it’s coming faster than most of us would like to admit. 

Because the World to Come isn’t all heaven. The World to Come is the World we build in the World of Today. And if we aren’t careful, we might end up building ourselves a World we won’t be so happy to come to. 

My grandparents were the first people in their family to own land since we had to flee from Israel (the second time). They owned land in New York. A place where they were born, but not their parents. My parents own land in Los Angeles, a place where I was born, but not my parents. 

My English friend Jonny’s grandparents were also the first people in his family to own land. They own land in Yorkshire. A place where they were born, and so were their parents. And their parents’ parents, and their parents’ parents’ parents. All of them tracing their lineage back 50 generations or further. 

In that time, eight Henrys and three Richards have ruled England. They came from 5 different royal families. There are no remaining descendants of either line. 

This World has Come, and they have all gone. One generation comes, another passes away, and the sun also rises, but only for those who inherited the World to Come. For you were born, and part of your birthright is your ancestor’s moral inheritance. If you were born a Henry or a Richard, you inherited your father’s kingdom, a kingdom of bloodshed. And if you passed on to your children that kingdom of bloodshed,it would not be long until there was no kingdom left to be passed on. 

But if you were born a Cohen or a Levi, a Goldstein or a Schwartz, you also inherited your father’s kingdom. But his was not a kingdom of bloodshed. His was a kingdom of anguish, of anxiety, of faith. I know this because you were born a Cohen, or a Levi, or a Goldstein, or a Schwartz. Your father inherited that name from his father, who had inherited it from his father. And that name never had as much power as a name like Henry. Your father didn’t inherit a kingdom; he didn’t even inherit any land! All he inherited from his father was a perpetual anxiety, a handful of Yiddish words, and an unbelievably strong will. And the knowledge that on Fridays we’re supposed to light shabbos candles and on Passover we’re not supposed to eat bread. 

He may have never lit candles. He may not have gone to Shul. He may have hated being Jewish. But he never stopped. He never gave it up. He never changed his name. 

My grandfather, a Cohen, grew up Orthodox, and he hated it. His father, also a Cohen, grew up Orthodox, and he hated it. But he forced my grandfather to do it because his brother had run off and married a non-Jewish girl and started pretending to be a nice white gentleman. He even pretended not to understand Yiddish. 

What became of that man’s family, I don’t know. Do his grandchildren know that they are Jewish? Do they know how to light Shabbat candles? Does he even have grandchildren? I don’t know; he cut himself off from kin. 

My grandfather hated being Jewish because his father hated being Jewish, but they both stayed Jewish, mostly, I believe out of spite. So when my mother grew up, she saw being Jewish as a chore, because her father saw it as a chore. But they did those chores nonetheless, and my grandfather inherited the Kingdom his father had built in their home, and my mother inherited the Kingdom that he built in his. 

Now, for whatever reason, my mother decided to marry a Jew. I don’t know if you would say that such a thing had ever really mattered to her, but it is what happened, even though all of her friends would have laughed if you would have told them prior. 

My father also inherited the Kingdom from his parents. He was a goldstein. His father had also grown up orthodox, but his father’s orthodoxy was not one of spite. It was, from all accounts, regular orthodoxy. The man was a learned rabbi in his spiritual life, but, in his everyday life, he was a pants-presser. My grandfather wanted more from himself, and he assimilated, joined the army, went to college, and, eventually, got married. To a Jew. 

Now, neither of them were particularly religious as things go, and they raised my father in an religionless household. They didn’t speak yiddish like my other grandparents, they weren’t members of a shul, and they never lit shabbat candles. Judaism, however, wasn’t a chore. It wasn’t there, but it wasn’t a chore. 

And so my dad inherited the Kingdom from his father. Now he found a calling in it, for whatever reason, and he decided to chase after it. So even though he only inherited a very small portion, he invested in the World to Come when he was young so that I could inherit a larger portion when I was born.

Such was the world I inherited. I inherited all the anxiety, all of the anguish, all of the faith. I inherited the knowledge of Shabbos candles and a handful of Yiddish expressions. It may not seem like much, but it is the most precious inheritance there is. 

I inherited my portion of the World to Come. I do not need to defend it with castle walls or standing armies. I do not need to lie awake at night wondering who will try to betray me. I do need to teach my sons how to win in this world’s kingdoms of bloodshed. I need only teach them that they are more precious to me than all of the castles and kingdoms of the world. That I would rather lose all of my land, all of my wealth, all of my comfort, than lose them, even for a day. 

The World to Come will be inherited by the people who love each other today. When you love another person, when you truly love them, the way a parent should love a child, the only thing that you want is for them to be well. And when you love someone and you want them to be well, you understand how another person could love someone else and want the same thing as you. And then all of the grandeur of the World of Today suddenly starts to seem a whole lot less important. The size of your house is less important than the size of their college fund. Your need for revenge becomes less important than your desire for peace. Sooner or later, love will make you soft. And the World to Come will only be inherited by the soft. 

David HaMelech, slayer of giants, wrestler of lions, killer of thousands, was a soft man. He wrote poetry about his feelings, and he wept over the death of his traitorous son. His love for his son was greater than his love for his own kingdom, and, perhaps for that, David was chosen to inherit the Kingdom of Heaven. His son Solomon was wise, but he was not as soft. He spent too much time in this world and not enough with his children building the World to Come. Solomon inherited the greatest kingdom in history from his father, a soft family man, but Solomon’s son inherited a kingdom stricken with grief and dismay that would not survive his lifetime. 

Before there were Henry and Richard, there was Caesar and Pompey. Before there was Caesar and Pompey, there was Alexander and Darius. All great names, all lost to time. They have no descendants. No family lines that get to experience the heaven that is this world. For they did not inherit the World to Come. Names come and names go, but families remain. But only families that take care of their families. 

That is why Abraham was the greatest man who ever lived. Not because he was a great prophet, not because he was a great teacher, and certainly not because he was a great leader. Abraham was the greatest man who ever lived because he was a wealthy man who paid closer attention to his family than any of his other affairs. 

The World to Come is almost here. The World of Today is already gone. Tomorrow is all we have left. Make sure to choose your investments wisely.