The Torah column is supported by a generous donation from Eve Gordon-Ramek in memory of Kenneth Gordon.
Matot-Masei
Numbers 30:2–36:13
Elon Musk has just accomplished what no entrepreneur in history has ever achieved.
With the record-breaking public offering of SpaceX, valued at more than $2 trillion, the largest IPO ever, he became the world’s first trillionaire, pushing the boundaries of wealth to heights once thought unimaginable.
Yet perhaps the most revealing measure of Musk is not found on a balance sheet but on the wall of his office at SpaceX headquarters in Hawthorne, California.
There hang two immense images of Mars. One depicts the planet as it is today: barren, frozen and lifeless. The other portrays the same planet transformed: green landscapes, vast oceans and human civilization flourishing beneath an alien sky.
Those two pictures tell us almost everything we need to know about the man. One is reality. The other is possibility.
Most people see the world as it is and ask how to live within its limits. A rare few imagine the world as it could become and devote their lives to narrowing the distance between the two.
Musk’s ambitions have often sounded like science fiction.
He has spoken of colonizing Mars, ending humanity’s dependence on fossil fuels, reinventing transportation on Earth and in space and building technologies that do not yet exist. His goals seemed so improbable that many have dismissed them as fantasy.
History, however, has a way of surprising the cynics.
SpaceX has transformed the economics of spaceflight through reusable rockets. Tesla has reshaped the automobile industry and accelerated the world’s transition to electric vehicles.
Through his ventures in energy, Musk has helped push renewable technology from the margins toward the mainstream. Whether every dream is realized or not, he has already altered industries that many assumed were beyond transformation.
Great achievements begin long before they become reality. They begin as a vision that others cannot yet see.
This is not merely a lesson about entrepreneurship. It is one of the deepest ideas in Judaism. The Jewish people have always lived by a vision that seemed impossible.
We believe that history is not an endless cycle but a journey toward redemption. We believe that humanity can become more compassionate, more just and more conscious of God’s presence.
We believe that this fractured world can one day become a home worthy of both its Creator and His children.
Measured against history, that is surely the boldest vision ever conceived. But Torah teaches something equally important: Vision alone is never enough.
The Torah commands, “halachta bidrachav” — “You shall walk in God’s ways.” Our sages explain that just as God is compassionate, so we must be compassionate; just as He is gracious, so we must be gracious.
The Lubavitcher rebbe offered a profound insight into this command. The Torah has already instructed us to be kind and merciful. Why, then, does it add the command to “walk” in God’s ways? Because the essential word is not “ways.” It is “walk.”
Our tradition does not ask us simply to possess virtues. It asks us never to become stationary. Every mitzvah should leave us a little kinder than before. Every act of learning should deepen our understanding. Every challenge should enlarge our character. The destination matters, but so does the movement.
There is a story about Henry Kissinger that illustrates this beautifully. While serving as secretary of state, he asked one of his aides, Winston Lord, to prepare a report on an especially difficult subject. After days of work, Lord submitted the document.
It came back with a single question: “Is this the best you can do?”
Lord rewrote it from beginning to end and submitted it again.
Once more it returned: “Is this the best you can do?”
Determined to satisfy his demanding boss, he revised it a third time, scrutinizing every sentence and every comma. Again the report came back with the identical question.
Lord finally snapped.
He picked up the phone and called Kissinger. “Damn it,” he said, “Yes, it’s the best I can do.”
To which Kissinger replied: “Fine, then I guess I’ll read it this time.”
We are often capable of far more than we initially believe. Too easily we settle into comfortable assumptions about our limits. We imagine we have reached our capacity, exhausted our creativity or fulfilled our potential. Judaism gently but persistently challenges that conclusion.
Keep walking. Keep growing. Keep becoming.
Musk’s two pictures of Mars remind us that the future belongs to those who dare to imagine a reality that does not yet exist.
The Torah adds a second truth no less important: Once the vision has been born, we must spend a lifetime walking toward it.
The distance between the world as it is and the world as it could be is crossed one faithful step at a time.