Ramping up spirituality

There are 354 steps leading to the top of the Statue of Liberty. To ascend to the top of Masada, if you choose to hike up the snake path rather than take the cable car, you will need to climb about 700 stairs. The summit of the Eiffel Tower, by foot, is a daunting 1 665 steps, which is fewer than the Empire State Building at 1 872 steps. If you should choose to walk to the top floor of the highest building in the world, the Burj Khalifa, you will need to negotiate a staggering 2 909 steps!

Towering over the centre of old Copenhagen, a few metres from the central synagogue, is a unique building. Known in Danish as Rundetårn (The Round Tower), you cannot reach its top and the magnificent views it offers via a staircase. Instead, you will need to walk up a long ramp that winds around the core of the building, until you get to the top floor. Another fascinating feature of this building is that the Tetragrammaton, Hashem’s four-letter name which we avoid pronouncing, is emblazoned on the top of its façade. I know this first-hand, having spent my early childhood in that city. The Round Tower, for some inexplicable reason, was a favourite of our nursery school teachers and a couple of times each year, we were marched around the seven circuits of this ramp as an outing and educational activity.

Legends abound explaining both unique features. I recall being told that the stepless ramp was to enable King Christian IV (1577-1648), who had commissioned this project, to climb the tower on horseback. Apparently, it was also his wish that a declaration of his faith in G-d be prominently displayed on the outside of the building.

When going up steps, it’s easy to quantify your progress. Count the stairs, and you know exactly how much you have accomplished at each stage of your ascent. Going up a ramp, it’s not as easy to keep track of how much has been achieved.

Rabbi Yitzchak Meir Alter (1798-1866), the author of Chidushei Harim, uses this concept to explain the final verse of this week’s parsha, Yitro: “You shall not ascend My Altar on steps.” Because of this prohibition, the altar in the Temple courtyard was designed with a long ramp leading up to the top, to enable the kohanim to perform the service.

In our spiritual growth, says Rabbi Alter, one may never start measuring achievements. It’s not easy, nor useful to quantify how much has been accomplished and how much further there is to grow. This is why a spiritual journey must be up a ramp and not, with apologies to Led Zeppelin, on a Stairway to Heaven. Our one and only goal has to be that we are constantly going up.

Who knows? Maybe the architects of the Rundetårn were onto something?