Friday, September 27, 2024


Nitzavim-Vayeilech

Deut. 29:9 -31:31

 

Précis: Moses continues to address the People: You stand (nitzavim) this day before Adonai. In his final words to the People, Moses recounts the wonders Adonai had done for them, and calls upon them to remain loyal to God by observing the Covenant. The extent of the relationship is explained: it will survive exile and captivity with a return to the Land. The Torah is an “open book” that is accessible to all. A blessing and a curse have been set before the People, and Moses urges them to choose the blessing, to choose life.

In the second parasha the Israelites are instructed to annihilate the seven Canaanite nations and take possession of the Promised Land. The death of Moses approaches, and he transfers his mantle of leadership to Joshua. Moses orders regular reading of the Law, and then transfers the written Torah into the hands of the Levites for safekeeping in the Ark of the Covenant.

 

Deut. 29:13-14 “Not with you alone am I making this covenant and oath; with you who are standing here with us today before the Lord our God I make it, and with those, too, who are not with us today.”

 

       Writing for Covenant and Conversation (9/22/22), Rabbi Sacks declares that this reading goes to the heart of Judaism. Moses is about to die, and he knows he will not accompany the People to the Promised Land. Because almost all of those who had entered into the Covenant died during four decades in the Wilderness, Moses believes that he must renew the covenant between the people and God.

            But “those who are not with us today” cannot mean Israelites alive at the time who were somewhere else.  Sacks notes that it must mean that the entire nation was present at Sinai, and as the Talmud states, it includes generations not yet born.

Therefore, we Jews (with the exception of Jews-by-choice) do not choose to be Jewish. We are born Jews, and upon reaching the age of maturity, we are part of the Covenant. In short, we have no choice in being Jewish: that choice was made more than 3,000 years ago at Sinai. But how can we be bound by what the Israelites said so long ago? The idea that in some mystical way we were all at Sinai is to me unsatisfactory.  

For most of history, Jewish identity was not a choice. It was really only in 15th century Spain that being Jewish became something of a choice (as in, convert, die, or leave). Sacks says that a subsequent verse makes it clearer: In Deut.30:19 we read: “I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you today. I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. Choose life – so that you and your children may live…”

Judaism is unique because, as Moses advises, we can in fact choose life. Our fate is not fixed by our DNA, the stars, or anything else. Choices are placed before us every day. Can you eat this and not that? Can you exercise spiritually three times a day? Can you rest one day in seven? Can you defer the gratification? Can you practice self-control?

Choose life. Our belief holds all humans in the highest regard. We are neither better than nor worse than others. We are simply different. As Sacks concludes, “Why Judaism? Because there is no more challenging way of choosing life.” 

Friday, September 20, 2024

Hope

Ki Tavo

Deut. 26:1-29:8

 

Précis: The parasha contains numerous religious mandates regarding the formation of a civil and moral community (including tithes of first fruits and tithes to support the Levites). The People are promised that if they follow God’s instructions, they will be transformed into a “holy people.” They are further instructed that they have a choice in their own destiny: there are blessings and curses (the “Admonition”), and they must choose between the two, and take the consequences. The parasha ends with Moses reminding the People about all that God had done for them in bringing them from Egypt, providing sustenance, defeating their foes, and giving them the Land.

 

Deut. 28:67 “In the morning you will say, ‘Would that it were evening,’ and in the evening you will say, ‘Would that it were morning,’ from your heart’s fright with which you will be afraid…”

            Near the conclusion of the Admonition (tochacha) we find this terrible curse. It means to live in constant fear, and a loss of all hope.

            This year, we have plenty to fear: the ongoing struggle Israel faces against Hamas and other Iranian proxies, an American election which may determine the fate of our cherished democracy, and a climate crisis which seems to worsen every month.

            The fear mongers of social media fan these fears relentlessly. Where can we find the hope to overcome our fear?

            I believe hope can be found in small acts of kindness. I believe hope can be found in the restoration of a seriously ill person to health. I believe hope can be found in community. I believe that hope can be found through love.