Some people live with their heads in the clouds—always dreaming, always reaching for something bigger. Others stay firmly on the ground—practical, realistic, never daring to soar too high. But the key to a meaningful life isn’t choosing one or the other. It’s in holding both at once.
This delicate balance is woven into the very fabric of the Jewish worldview, reflected in some of our tradition’s most profound teachings. Nowhere is this clearer than in the Cherubim on the Ark, whose wings stretched toward the heavens while their faces remained turned toward one another:
וְהָיוּ הַכְּרֻבִים פֹּרְשֵׂי כְנָפַיִם לְמַעְלָה סֹכְכִים בְּכַנְפֵיהֶם עַל־הַכַּפֹּרֶת וּפְנֵיהֶם אִישׁ אֶל־אָחִיו אֶל־הַכַּפֹּרֶת יִהְיוּ פְּנֵי הַכְּרֻבִים – The cherubim shall have their wings spread out above, shielding the cover with their wings. They shall face each other, the faces of the cherubim being turned toward the cover. (25:20).
As the Sadeh Margalit notes, this wasn’t just aesthetic design – it was a blueprint for living; spiritual heights mean nothing if we aren’t also face-to-face, engaged with each other.
This profound pattern of grounded aspiration also appears in Yaakov’s dream:
וַיַּחֲלֹם וְהִנֵּה סֻלָּם מֻצָּב אַרְצָה וְרֹאשׁוֹ מַגִּיעַ הַשָּׁמָיְמָה – He had a dream; a stairway was set on the ground and its top reached to the sky (28:12).
As R’ Yehuda Leib Gertner teaches, the ladder reached the heavens yet remained firmly planted on earth, a powerful image that captures an essential truth: dreaming without roots is mere fantasy; rootedness without vision leads to stagnation. True greatness requires both.
But let’s be honest – maintaining this balance is incredibly challenging. We all know people who’ve lost their way on both extremes: The business executive who achieves incredible success but can’t remember the last time he really listened to his children. The scholar who can quote any text but walks past a neighbor in need without noticing.
While we admire those who dream big, unchecked ambition often leads to dangerous detachment. To reach without looking inward, to ascend without connection, is to miss the true heights of greatness. Like the cherub who turns away, like a ladder missing its base, they rise without anchoring themselves in connection.
Our sages teach that when the Cherubim faced away from each other, it signaled spiritual and national disconnection. A person who flies too high and forgets the ground may one day look down and realize they are utterly alone.
Yet the opposite extreme carries its own dangers. Those who never lift their eyes beyond the present moment risk becoming trapped in a cycle of mere survival, losing sight of all life has to offer. We see this in the “practical” person so focused on daily tasks they’ve stopped believing in possibility, in those who avoid dreaming big because they fear disappointment, and in people so consumed by screens and schedules they never pursue deeper wisdom or purpose.
As the Malbim notes, the Ten Commandments were split into two tablets: five between man and God and five between man and man. One tablet without the other is incomplete. Focusing only on your spirituality can leave you self-absorbed, and focusing only on your relationships with people can have you losing sight of the higher purpose that gives relationships meaning.
So, what does this ancient wisdom mean for us in practice today?
When you’re praying, let your soul soar – but keep your eyes open for those in your community who might need help this week. When learning Torah, reach for deep understanding – but always ask yourself how this wisdom can make you a better spouse, parent, friend, or neighbor. When pursuing your career goals, dream big – but measure success not just by personal achievement, but by how many others you can lift along the way.
The Cherubim and Yaakov’s ladder aren’t just historical images but timeless messages about the path to genuine fulfillment. They teach us to reach skyward while remaining grounded and to pursue our highest aspirations while strengthening our human connections.
Reach for the Heavens. Climb with purpose.
But keep your feet firmly planted in the world of kindness and connection.