Rabbi Simcha Bunim of Peshischa said that every Jew needs two pockets with a slip of paper in each pocket. On one slip it should say, "The world was created for me," on the other slip it should say, "I am but dust and ashes," and the difficulty is knowing when to retrieve the appropriate slip of paper.
Rabbi Meir Mazuz elaborates and explains that self-worth and humility are both important traits. However, we need to know when to apply them. When there is a call for action, it is a mistake to be humble, and when one is insulted, it is a mistake to be concerned with one's self-worth.
These words of wisdom describe Judaism's multifaceted understanding of the centrality of humanity and the natural world. Humanity is the epitome and crowning glory of creation. Creation is meant to serve us, yet at the same time, we must be cognizant that "all we are is dust in the wind."
Most Talmudic, Midrashic and halachic sources consistently subscribe to an anthropocentric understanding that places humanity in the center of the world as the most important of God's creations. However, a careful review of the Jewish literature makes it difficult to ignore the eco-centric, nature-centered views that exist in Jewish literature.
So why do both conflicting viewpoints exist in Jewish thought and which of them is correct?
Before we begin to answer this question, we should review several Jewish primary sources that describe both the human-centered and nature-centered concepts in Judaism.
The Mishna in Sanhedrin 4:5 explains that the world was created solely for the sake of humanity:
"How did they [the Court] intimidate witnesses? … For this reason, man was created as an individual, to teach us that whoever destroys a [single] life in Israel is treated by Scripture as one who has destroyed an entire world and whoever saves a [single] life in Israel is treated by Scripture as one as one who has saved the entire world. … Therefore, every person must say: The world was created on my behalf."
Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto, in "The Way of God," takes an even stronger anthropocentric stance and explains that even the celestial beings were created only to aid humans to attain perfection:
"The primary essential creature is man. All other created things, whether above or below man, only exist for his sake, to complete his environment through their various different qualities appropriate for each of them."
These two sources are examples of the predominant view in Jewish literature of the centrality of humanity.
However, many sources in Jewish literature ascribe an independent worth to the natural world. In Chapter 34 of "Pirke De-Rabbi Eliezer," the soul of a man is compared to that of a tree:
"When the soul departs from a human body its voice goes out from one end of the world to the other, but is not heard. … When a fruit-producing tree is cut down, its voice goes out from one end of the world to the other, but is not heard."
The Talmud, in Sanhedrin 38A, presents a multilevel understanding of the centrality of humanity and nature. It begins with an eco-centric view, that man is less important than even a mosquito, and concludes with an anthropocentric view stating that the world was created primarily for humanity:
"The rabbis taught: Man was created on the eve of Shabbat. Why? If he becomes too proud, we can say to him, "A mosquito was created before you!" Another opinion: so that he could immediately perform a mitzvah. Another opinion: so that he could immediately partake of a feast. Like a mortal king, who builds a palace, finishes all the details, prepares a feast and only then invites his guests."
Maimonides, in "Guide to the Perplexed," presents a strong eco-centric view, disagreeing with the prevailing human-centered opinions that appear in Jewish literature:
"It should not be believed that all beings exist for the sake of the existence of man. On the contrary, all the other things too have been intended for their own sakes and not for the sake of something else."
So how do we understand the contradictory views in Jewish literature?
Judaism is a religion of complexity and seeming contradictions, it contains both anthropocentric and eco-centric sources, and this dichotomy exists because both views are valid, but depend on the circumstances.
To live as a Jew, one must be able to live with dualities. This dichotomy is described in the third chapter of Ecclesiastes: "Everything has an appointed season, and there is a time for every matter under heaven. A time to give birth and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to uproot that which is planted."
Modern environmental dilemmas, and the tensions surrounding them, require understanding the validity, and balancing the conflicting needs and rights, of humanity and the natural world.
Judaism doesn't espouse an unrealistic ecclesiastical false sense of humility or a grandiose image of self-importance but rather a complementary balancing act, which takes into consideration the opposing needs, rights and requirements of humanity and the natural world. As Rabbi Simcha Bunim of Peshischa said, we need to have two pockets, one that reminds us that the world was created for us, and another that reminds us that we are only dust and ashes. The challenge is knowing how to strike a balance that enables humanity to thrive while preserving the natural world.
