Our choices

 Deut. 3:26 “Enough from you; do not speak to me of this matter again.”

In our reading for Simchat Torah, we see once again Moses’ pleas rejected  to be allowed to enter the land, in this case in the most emphatic terms. As Jonathan Sacks noted in Covenant and Conversation (9/26/18), Moses is described no fewer than 18 times as “God’s servant,” a title no other individual in the Tanach is provided even twice. Why could Moses not appeal to a Heavenly Court and seek mercy over justice for just a few days?  As stated in Deut. 34:10, the Torah reads: “Never again did there arise in Israel a prophet like Moses.” Where was the compassion?

Sacks suggests that the hint of an answer lies in the following reading, from Bereshit: “In the beginning God created Heaven and Earth.” There is Heaven and there is Earth, and they are not the same. Sacks goes on to quote what he calls one of the most important questions of our tradition: “What is man that you are mindful of him?” (Ps. 8). In all of the known universe, we are the only beings who can ask this question.

            While many human civilizations have attempted to harmonize the human and the Divine, Judaism has steadfastly refused to do so. Modern science has tended to eliminate the Divine altogether, and instead suggest that humans are no more than a collection of living cells. Judaism rejects this position as well: we are neither Gods nor are we mere collections of random cells. Our tradition teaches that we may be the dust of the earth, but we were animated by God’s breath.

            For us, humanity, even at its most enlightened level, is still humanity. We live, we achieve, but we also die. Sacks suggests, “None of us should feel guilty or frustrated or angry or defeated that there are things we hoped to achieve but did not. That is what it is to be human.” Moses was human, and his frustration with the rock led to his inability to enter the Land.

            Yet, Maimonides states that despite the fact that there was only one Moses, we can all be like him: while not prophetically, at least humanly. He died, failing to see the culmination of his greatest act of righteous behavior.

            Our Torah reading ends with a profound lesson: we are all human, we all die, and so we must make the most of each day we live. We all make mistakes, and perhaps we can learn from them. That’s what being a human is all about. God is God, and God’s choices are God’s. We are human beings, and our choices are ours.