Staying Human through the 2020 Election

Parashat B’reisheet, Genesis 1:1–6:8

by Rabbi Russ Resnik

Then the Lord God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature.

“From which part of the earth’s great surface did He gather the dust?” ask the Rabbis. Rabbi Meir answered, “From every part of the habitable earth was the dust taken for the formation of Adam.” In a word, men of all lands and climes are brothers.

This comment on Genesis 2:7 (from Pentateuch and Haftorahs, edited by Rabbi Dr. J. H. Hertz) is based on Rashi’s classic commentary. Other rabbinic writings cite the creation account in Genesis 1 as the foundational statement of human brotherhood and dignity.

Then God said, “Let us make humankind in our image, in the likeness of ourselves. . . .”

So God created humankind in his own image;
in the image of God he created him:
male and female he created them. (Gen 1:26a, 27 CJB)

Every person—every human being as human being—is made in the image of God, and therefore is to be treated with respect and dignity.

This claim might sound obvious, or even a bit sentimental, but we need to hear it afresh amidst influential current views like these:

The human race is just a chemical scum on a moderate-size planet, orbiting around a very average star in the outer suburb of one among a billion galaxies. – Stephen Hawking

Looking back, humanity will turn out to be just a ripple within the cosmic data flow. – Yuval Harari, Homo Deus (both quotes are cited in Morality by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks)

In a postmodern world that sees us as just chemical scum or a ripple in the data flow, recognizing that every single person is created in and bears God’s image is radical. And treating people that way, with inherent dignity and respect, is more radical still. But the dignity of humankind is easier to honor at a distance than close up. It’s the recognition of the divine image in those we actually deal with on the ground every day that makes the radical difference.

So let’s see how this applies to getting through the 2020 elections with our humanity intact. I’m not the first one to comment on the unprecedented level of rancor and polarization around this election. I’m particularly concerned, though, about its impact upon our own Messianic Jewish community. Polls report that a significant percentage of families have become distanced or even estranged over this election. Some family members can’t even talk to each other any longer, and I fear that’s happening in our own extended Messianic Jewish family, especially between generations. The division between younger and older family and community members is always a challenge, but it’s becoming tragic in 2020.

So, what are we to do about it?

• Speak about and to the opposition with respect. You can believe that President Trump is utterly unworthy of re-election, or that a President Biden would be a total disaster, without resorting to the mockery, name-calling, and stigmatizing rhetoric that’s flying around these days. We can refrain from lashon ha-ra, the “evil tongue” of slanderous speech, and from passing on partisan claims and talking points from either side. Try respectful dissent instead.

• We can also refrain from the use of litmus tests. I once told a friend that I thought we, as Jews, should be sympathetic toward immigrants, since most of us are descendants of pretty recent immigrants ourselves. His response: “Oh, so you believe in open borders!” I patiently explained that I believed in maintaining our borders and in a humane policy toward people who wanted to enter them. I failed the initial litmus test but we ended up having a good discussion and understanding each other better. The litmus test of political party is especially worthy of being dropped. You don’t have to question someone’s sincerity or salvation just because he or she votes differently from you.

• Keep politics in perspective. Neither party has an agenda that’s wholly informed by Scripture. Even if you’re enthusiastic about a particular party, you can remain aware of its shortcomings. No party has the final word or the ultimate answers.

• Put loyalty to Yeshua above loyalty to a political (or even religious) persuasion. As the 2020 election unfolds, it threatens to further tear apart an already fragmented nation, but it must not tear apart the community of Yeshua’s followers. Insist on the unity of all fellow Yeshua-followers, of whatever party or persuasion, and act accordingly.

• Learn from those with whom you disagree. Ben Zoma said, “Who is wise? The one who learns from every person” (Pirkei Avot 4:1). The next time you hear someone express what you consider a divergent political position, ask if there’s any possible reason beyond brainwashing that they might hold an opinion different from yours. Seek to understand their viewpoint, as someone also bearing the divine image, before you leap to disqualify it.

The late and lamented civil rights icon Congressman John Lewis (whom some might write off as a member of the wrong party) once described his embrace of nonviolence, not as a tactic of protest, but as a deeply held value:  

We are talking about love here. Not romantic love. Not the love of one individual for another. Not loving something that it lovely to you. This is broader, deeper, more all-encompassing love. It is a love that accepts and embraces the hateful and the hurtful. It is a love that recognizes the spark of the divine in each of us, even in those who would raise their hand against us, those we might call our enemy. (Walking with the Wind, 1998)

The “spark of the divine” is another way of describing the image of God that we all bear from creation. For Lewis the imperative to recognize the divine spark arose from his reading of the Sermon on the Mount—and we should all be able to say amen to that.

As Messianic Jews we also recognize that the teachings of Messiah Yeshua in turn rest upon the whole Torah, starting with the Creation account that we read this week. As so often happens, this ancient story is ready to shape our response to the breaking news of today and tomorrow, if we hear it well. O Lord, open our ears!

BEGIN AGAIN RIGHT NOW

Image by celebrationofwomen.org

Simchat Torah 5781

Rabbi Dr. John Fischer, UMJC President 

As a Jewish community we’ve just finished going through a time of introspection and a time of celebration. We moved through the awesome days from Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur as we conducted an internal inventory of ourselves in the presence of the majestic King over the entire universe. Immediately afterward we moved into a “season of rejoicing” through the week of Sukkot as we celebrated God’s provisions for our ancestors (Deut 29:5) as we walked with him through the wilderness journey he described as our honeymoon with him (Jer 2:2).

Now we’ve come roaring into Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah, the conclusion of the festival cycle spelled out in Leviticus 23. As if to reinforce Rosh Hashanah as the beginning of our new year, Simchat Torah concludes our reading of the Torah (Deut 33–34) by immediately launching us into reading the Torah from the beginning (B’reisheet) again.

So, we begin again immediately, not at some indistinct time in the future, but right now.

After Sukkot wraps up, Leviticus 23:36 instructs us to hold a special (“holy”) “eighth day” (shemini) commemoration of conclusion (atzeret) which then spills over into Simchat Torah. Taking a step back and looking at the bigger picture of Leviticus 23, it’s almost as if Shemini Atzeret concludes not only Sukkot, not only the fall holidays, but also the entire cycle of festivals described in Leviticus 23. (Remember the entire chapter is read as a unit.) Shemini Atzeret is designated simply as the “eighth day” after the end of Sukkot. And yet, since our calendar is built on the seven-day week based on the seven days of creation, the eighth day would itself signal a new beginning. Appropriately, Simchat Torah immediately picks up on this new beginning theme by launching our cycle of reading again. Additionally, Simchat Torah in a sense serves as still another conclusion, this time to Shavuot; this is the holiday that celebrates the giving of the Torah while Simchat Torah celebrates our having the Torah.

A couple of weeks ago we approached and then observed Rosh Hashanah as an opportunity to begin a new year, to start afresh with our lives with God and with those around us. Now we can use our celebration of Simchat Torah to remind ourselves of our new intentions and new initiatives as well as to start afresh following God’s guidelines in the Torah. It’s yet another opportunity for a new beginning, for a fresh start for each of us.

In this fresh start we should take to heart the concluding text of the Torah (Deut 34:10), which serves as part of the Simchat Torah readings. This parasha reminds us that “the Lord knew Moses face-to-face.” There was a close, intimate relationship between the two. Moses had come to know the character and person of the God of the universe. He knew him to be a God of surpassing compassion, overflowing love, superabundant kindness, and unrelenting forgiveness (Exod 34:6–7). Accordingly, we need to take the time to get to know the Lord more intimately and to model those same divine characteristics towards others. It’s part of our calling as a paradigm people (Deut 4:5–8; Exod 19:5–6).

But the parasha also reminds that the Lord knew Moses. That means Moses opened himself up to God; he didn’t hold anything back from God. The other part of the Simchat Torah parasha (B’reisheet) reminds us that God walked with Adam and Eve in the garden in Eden. We, too, need to see this year as an opportunity to walk that closely with God, taking the time to get to know him better, and opening ourselves more fully to him. As we begin again immediately, this is something we can aim for and build on as we move forward through the coming year. 

Simchat Torah can also serve as a time of forward vision for us as a Union. Although the pandemic has adversely impacted and shaped much of this past year, we were able to launch and build on some exciting fresh initiatives. These are opportunities that we look forward to build on as we move through the coming year.

• Over 600 people attended our virtual Tikkun Leil Shavuot. We plan to build on that for our upcoming Winter Leadership Conference in January.

• Rabbi Barney Kasdan and Education Chair Andrea Rubinstein (and team) further strengthened our Messianic Educator Certificate Program. It’s readily accessible for your synagogue teachers to take advantage of.

• We launched the Introduction to Lay Cantorial Training program under the capable leadership of Aaron Allsbrook. This is a wonderful opportunity to raise the level of cantorial work in your congregations and throughout the Union.

• We birthed Dorot, a task force Deborah Pardo-Kaplan effectively leads. This task force is researching and compiling ways we can all more effectively function in and be relevant to our emerging world and to our contemporary Jewish community. We eagerly look forward to what they will share with us.

• Thanks to Justin Matthew the Union was able to offer professional consultation to more effectively utilize various social media platforms to reach into the communities in which we all serve. His services are still available. Put them to use these coming months.

And stay tuned for other fresh initiatives we as a Union develop this coming year. To learn more about any of these initiatives, contact office@umjc.org.

As we leave our sukkahs behind this Simchat Torah, let’s eagerly make the Torah more relevant in our lives and to those around us. And as we do so, we can more enthusiastically anticipate the time the Aleinu looks forward to, the time when the Living Torah will be among us again, and “the world will be perfected under the rule of the Lord Almighty.” Now is a great time to begin again!

The Ultimate Etrog

by Jared Eaton, Simchat Yisrael, West Haven, CT

Chag Sameach! After the often grueling experience of Yom Kippur, it’s a wonderful change of pace to gather with our families and communities to celebrate the festival of Sukkot. We harvest tree branches, pick gourds, string up lights, and build our sukkahs, our temporary homes for this happy week.

But building sukkahs is not the only way in which we celebrate Sukkot. We also observe a few other lesser known rituals. Among these traditions is the waving of the lulav and the etrog, collectively known as the Four Species.

The etrog is a citrus fruit, similar to a lemon, which grows in the Land of Israel, and the lulav is a kind of a wand made up of palm, myrtle, and willow branches.

Talmudic tradition teaches that these four species, with their different characteristics, represent the diverse nature of all of Israel. The sages equate a good taste with Torah learning and a pleasing scent with good deeds. They argue that in order to be a complete and fulfilled Jew, one must possess both of these qualities in abundance.

The Rabbis’ distinction between Torah learning and good deeds calls to mind the distinction made by New Covenant luminaries such as the Apostle Paul and Yaakov between faith in Messiah Yeshua and the living out of that faith through good works. Some may argue that Paul emphasized faith over works—“For we maintain that a man is justified by faith apart from works of the Law” (Romans 3:28)—while Yaakov upheld the opposite opinion—“What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him?” (James 2:14). But both men would certainly agree that mature believers must have faith and works to truly live up to the example set by our Messiah Yeshua.

Recently, I had a conversation with a friend who, in a very astute allegory, compared Messiah Yeshua to “The Ultimate Etrog.” The etrog, with its pleasing scent and good taste, represents one with both Torah learning and good deeds, or in my New Covenant interpretation, Faith and Works. And indeed, who better embodied the qualities of the etrog than Yeshua, who taught and walked in perfect faith in his Father and lived a life exemplified by kindness and compassion and service to those who needed his help the most?  Yeshua truly is our Ultimate Etrog.

But if Yeshua is the Ultimate Etrog, who might be the ultimate representatives of the other three species? Consider the palm. It has a good taste (the date) but no scent, representing a person who has faith but no works to back it up.

How many Yeshua-believers fall into his category? How many of us claim to be followers of Yeshua and study the Scriptures, but don’t act out our faith in our everyday lives? How many of us have Jesus fish bumper stickers but still cut people off in traffic and curse other motorists? How many of us wear our tzitzit and our kippot out in public, but walk by without making eye contact with the hungry homeless person looking for a kind word and a little compassion?

Yaakov would not think highly of such a “palm-leaf believer.” When I think about who might be the “Ultimate Palm Leaf” Isaac comes to my mind. Loath as I am to pick on a beloved patriarch, Isaac is no one’s favorite Bible hero for a reason.

The Scriptures portray a man of great faith and spiritual merit, but have little to say about Isaac’s actions. In every story in which Isaac plays a major part, things are happening to him, not because of him. He wordlessly acquiesces to his binding. His father’s servant finds a wife for him while he stays home. He is manipulated by his sons and his wife in his old age. Rather than take an active part in his own story, Isaac remains a passive character, letting life happen around him.

Yeshua, on the other hand, was decisive and proactive. He sought out opportunities to live out his convictions and the way he lived his life was a testimony to his faith. If we are to follow him, we need to be active players in our own stories.

In contrast with the palm leaf, the myrtle branch has a good smell but no taste, representing a person with good works but no faith.

It’s entirely possible to do good, without being good. I think of the quote from the controversial central character of “The Wolf of Wall Street,” Jordan Belfort: “See money doesn’t just buy you a better life, better food, better cars . . . it also makes you a better person. You can give generously to the church or the political party of your choice.”

I can only imagine what the apostle Paul would have to say about Belfort’s idea of what makes a person “better”. What kind of a person are you if you donate $100,000 to cancer research but do it with money you made from cheating your clients? Are you really a better person if you fund an orphanage but come home and treat you own family with contempt?

These myrtle-branch believers may have a sweet smell, but anyone who gets close enough would find out that their taste is bitter.

For my example of the “Ultimate Myrtle Branch” I thought of the prophet Jonah. Jonah may be the most successful prophet in all of the Bible. Other prophets were met with scorn and persecution and saw their words fall on deaf ears, but Jonah’s message to the Ninevites was met with a city-wide call to repentance and the rescue of an entire nation. If we were to judge a man solely on the good he has done in his life, Jonah would be counted amongst the greatest in the kingdom.

And yet we read the book of Jonah as a cautionary tale. In spite all of his amazing gifts and talents, Jonah has a terrible attitude throughout his story. He scorns the task God has charged him with, he takes no responsibility for his calamity inside the fish and he repeatedly complains and wishes for death after he finally grudgingly does his job.

While his works are great, his faith in God’s plan is vanishingly small. Contrast his attitude with Messiah Yeshua’s. As much as Jonah might have disliked God’s plan, no one had a more bitter cup placed before him than Yeshua. Messiah knew that his road led to the cross, yet he went willingly and without complaint, even in the face of temptation to take an easier road. Yeshua had faith in his Father’s plan, and if we are to follow him we need to have similar trust to back up our good works.

Last and certainly least among the four species we have the willow branch. A plant with no taste and no smell, representing a person who lacks both faith and good works.

Sadly, the world seems to be full of willow branches. America has seen a dramatic decline in religious belief in recent decades, while the number of people claiming no religious affiliation or belief has risen inexorably. Indifference seems to be the default setting for humanity, as individualism is valued over community and the pursuit of material gain is valued over compassion for our brothers and sisters.

When I think of the “Ultimate Willow Branch” it’s easy to go for a traditional biblical villain. Pharaoh or Haman or Herod are all easy targets.

But I don’t think that most people who fall into the willow-branch category are inherently evil. Most willow branches just don’t know how to be any better than they are. They’ve never been given the opportunity to be anything but a plain old tasteless, odorless willow branch.

That’s why my choice for the ultimate willow branch is the tiny character of Zacchaeus. Not a great and mighty villain. Just a little, petty knave.

For those who need reminding, Zacchaeus’s story can be found in Luke 19. Zacchaeus was a tax collector who was very much disliked in his community. He was considered a sinner and a cheat and a collaborator with Rome. Truly a man with neither faith nor good works to his name.

And yet when Yeshua walks past Zacchaeus, he doesn’t see a willow branch. He sees a man who has the potential to become an etrog. Yeshua had every reason to ignore Zacchaeus, to treat him as a lost cause. But just as we don’t toss away the willow branches on Sukkot, but instead bind them together with the other four species that they all may bless each other, Yeshua saw the good that was inside of Zacchaeus and called him to become more than he was.

By the end of the story, Zacchaeus has pledged himself to make restitution for his past misdeeds and to continue to do the good works for which he has been made. Yeshua proclaims that salvation has come to Zacchaeus’ house because his faith has allowed Messiah to save that which had been lost.

This Sukkot, we are all challenged to enter our sukkahs and reflect on which of the four species we might be. But we can take comfort in the knowledge that no matter where we are in our faith walk, whether strong in works, faith, or neither of the above, Yeshua is always calling to us and giving us the opportunity to be more than we are today. With Messiah’s help, anyone can change their species.

Chag Sameach!

Note: this commentary originally appeared in October, 2016.

I Can’t Forgive Myself

Days of Awe 5781

Rabbi Russ Resnik

A young man I’ll call Jerry was sitting across from me in my counseling office, struggling to tell his story. He had immigrated to the USA with his family about 15 years earlier as a young teenager. His family stuck together, worked hard, and expected a lot from the kids. Jerry earned good grades throughout high school, got into a good university, and married a young woman from his community before he even graduated. They soon had two children; Jerry was working at a good job; they went to church together . . . and then Jerry left it all. He got into heavy drinking and was unfaithful to his wife and finally lost her to divorce.

Now, he was sober, getting his life back together, and tormenting himself with regret. “I asked my ex-wife to forgive me, and she did. My family forgave me too, and I know God forgives me, but he has to—he’s God. But I can’t forgive myself.”

When I teach or counsel about forgiveness, this is a question I hear more than any other: How do I forgive myself? I’ve searched the Scriptures for verses on forgiving yourself and can’t find any. You can repent (with God’s help) and you can receive God’s forgiveness, but you can’t forgive yourself.

And realizing this fact can be liberating, an essential step in the right direction.

I’m hesitant to speak of steps, though, because it might make this sound like a self-help exercise, and the truth is we can’t help ourselves. If we don’t realize that during the Days of Awe, we’re missing the whole point. But some of you might still feel like Jerry, even on Yom Kippur. And even if you don’t, you can probably think of a friend or loved one who does, who struggles with self-unforgiveness, not just during these days of repentance, but throughout the year.  

So the first thing is this: Give up. You cannot forgive yourself. You can stop blaming, second-guessing, tormenting yourself with regret—at least for a while—but the deep, cleansing, life-giving forgiveness—that can come only from God.

That leads to our second component: Receive God’s forgiveness. We receive it as a gift, undeserved and paid in full. One contemporary rabbi captures the paradox well:

Self-forgiveness is the essential act of the High Holiday season. That’s why we need heaven. That’s why we need God. We can forgive others on our own. But we turn to God . . . because we cannot forgive ourselves. (Alan Lew, This Is Real and You Are Completely Unprepared)

Accordingly the liturgy of Yom Kippur highlights our need to receive what we can’t give ourselves. As we recite the litany of our personal and communal sins, we interrupt the list again and again to call  out, “For all these sins, God of forgiveness, forgive us, pardon us, grant us atonement.”

God is always a God of forgiveness, always ready to forgive. Jerry told me that God forgives, “but he has to—he’s God.” Of course, that’s not quite right. God doesn’t really have to do anything, and he doesn’t forgive just because he is God, but because of the kind of God he is. Furthermore, we believe that through Messiah Yeshua he has granted atonement as the basis for his forgiveness once and for all time. This reality points to a third component of receiving forgiveness.

God’s forgiveness is once-for-all, but it’s hard for us to receive it once-for-all. We need to renew our hold on it continually, perhaps even every day. We do this by thanking God daily for his compassion, just as we do every year on Yom Kippur. Pray from the traditional Siddur or the Psalms and you can make thanking God for his forgiveness a daily habit.

In addition to giving thanks we might also need to seek God’s forgiveness repeatedly because we transgress against him repeatedly. Our Master taught us to pray like this:

Give us the food we need today.
Forgive us what we have done wrong,
    as we too have forgiven those who have wronged us. (Matt 6:11–12)

Just as we need food every day, so we’re likely to need forgiveness every day, or at least most days.

We receive God’s forgiveness once-for-all, then, and we renew our hold on his forgiveness daily through giving thanks, and through clearing out any sins that might have sprung up since.

This brings us to a final point. We express our gratitude for forgiveness not only in words but also through action. In his model prayer, Messiah Yeshua points us to one way of responding to God’s forgiveness, which is to forgive those who have wronged us. He makes a similar point later on: “And when you stand praying, if you have anything against anyone, forgive him; so that your Father in heaven may also forgive your offenses” (Mark 11:25).

We need to hear these words in balance with the rest of Messiah’s teaching, as well as the rest of Scripture. The Father’s forgiveness isn’t conditional on our acts of forgiving others. It’s a free gift, but we can’t lay hold, or keep hold, of that gift as long as we’re hanging on to the charges we have against others. I can’t forgive myself, but I can forgive others, and in doing so I receive God’s forgiveness and begin to live in a climate of forgiveness and compassion. “Be kind to each other, tenderhearted; and forgive each other, just as in the Messiah God has also forgiven you” (Eph 4:32).

So during this season of repentance and forgiveness, let’s remember four essentials:

1. Give up: you can’t forgive yourself, so

2. Receive forgiveness as a gift from God, and

3. Renew your hold on that gift each day, and

4. Forgive others as an expression of thanks.

The Torah sums up its instructions for Yom Kippur like this: “For on this day, atonement will be made for you to purify you; you will be clean before Adonai from all your sins” (Lev 16:30). “Atonement will be made for you” is Yikhaper aleikhem in Hebrew, literally, “He will make atonement for you,” but it’s not clear who the “he” is here. It might be the High Priest, as in some translations, but the sages don’t all agree. I like Rabbi Akiva’s reading:

Happy are you, O Israel. Before whom are you made clean, and who makes you clean? It is your Father who is in heaven, as it says (Ezek 36:25), “And I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean.” (m.Yoma 8:9)

Amen. Thank you, Father, that you have designed things so that we can’t forgive ourselves, but must come to you to receive forgiveness. And thank you that you provide the cleansing water of forgiveness in full measure, once for all and renewed each day, through the atoning sacrifice of Messiah Yeshua.

All Scripture references are from Complete Jewish Bible (CJB).

Jerry’s story is based on actual counseling sessions with details changed to protect privacy.

A Tale of Two (Non-Binary) Sons

Rosh Hashana 5781

Rabbi Russ Resnik

Now that my title got your attention, I’ll let you know this message isn’t about non-binary gender identity. Instead, it’s about looking beyond the usual binary reading of Isaac and Ishmael, in which Isaac is the chosen son, the beloved, the faithful, the son of destiny, and Ishmael is the rejected son, the unloved, the son of unbelief and perdition. There’s a lot to support that reading, for sure, but our non-binary reading is truer to the whole narrative of Genesis, and brings out a dimension of the story that’s of special importance to us, particularly as we approach the Days of Awe.

The Akedah, the account of the binding of Isaac in Genesis 22, traditionally read on the second day of Rosh Hashana, is so iconic that we’re liable to forget the preceding story, which we read on the first day. Genesis 21 opens with the birth of Isaac, the son promised to Abraham through his wife Sarah. Sarah soon begins to pressure Abraham to send away his first son, born through his union with Hagar, Sarah’s bondwoman. Abraham is not happy about this idea, but God instructs him to listen to Sarah, adding, “And I will make a nation of the son of the slave woman also, because he is your offspring” (Gen 21:13). Isaac is the chosen one, but God has a parallel purpose for Ishmael.

The parallel between the two sons becomes even more striking in the very next phrase: “So Abraham rose early in the morning . . .” (Gen 21:14). This phrase, just three words in Hebrew, Vayashkem Avraham baboker, is repeated verbatim in the Akedah, as Abraham’s response when God commands him to offer up Isaac. In both cases Abraham rises up early to obey the divine command, and both cases constitute a great trial of faith for Abraham.

After Hagar and Ishmael are sent away, Genesis 21 goes on to recount their story with great compassion, pointing beyond the binary of chosen/rejected to their shared humanity. Jewish theologian Michael Wyschogrod notes that this same compassion pervades the story of Esau, and draws a conclusion:

Surely non-election does not equal rejection. Ishmael and Esau, the sons of non-election, are suffused in the divine word with a compassion in some respects more powerful than the love of the sons of election. . . . Not to be the favorite son of a human father is a painful experience, but the non-election of God is never a finality, only one way of being touched by the finger of God. [1]

In contrast, Paul pictures Isaac and Ishmael in sharply binary terms in one of his letters. He’s writing to a group of Yeshua-followers who are being influenced to receive circumcision and become “obligated to keep the whole law” (Gal 5:3). In response, Paul says the story of Abraham’s two sons “may be interpreted allegorically,” as pointing to two covenants, one “from Mount Sinai, bearing children for slavery”—the bondage of trying to fulfill the law on our own power—and the other reflecting “the Jerusalem above which is free, and she is our mother” (Gal 4:22–24, 26). Paul continues:

Now you, brothers, like Isaac, are children of promise. But just as at that time he who was born according to the flesh persecuted him who was born according to the Spirit, so also it is now. But what does the Scripture say? “Cast out the slave woman and her son, for the son of the slave woman shall not inherit with the son of the free woman.” (Gal 4:28–30)

Paul builds on one element of the Isaac-Ishmael story to make a vital point to followers of Yeshua: we are children of Abraham not through self-effort, but through promise and by the Spirit, and this is how we are to live our lives in union with Messiah. But the wider implication of the original story that Wyschogrod identified remains: Ishmael too is “touched by the finger of God.” Beneath the level of his non-election, he shares profoundly in Abraham’s story in the end:

These are the days of the years of Abraham’s life, 175 years. Abraham breathed his last and died in a good old age, an old man and full of years, and was gathered to his people. Isaac and Ishmael his sons buried him in the cave of Machpelah, in the field of Ephron the son of Zohar the Hittite, east of Mamre. (Gen 25:7–9)

At Abraham’s death, the estranged brothers come together again. Then, immediately after noting God’s blessing on Isaac, the story continues with a list of the generations of Ishmael, who fathers twelve sons, which become twelve tribes, paralleling the twelve tribes of Israel. Moreover, the text describes Ishmael’s death in 25:17 with the term vayigva, “he breathed his last” or “he expired,” a term, according to Rashi, which is usually applied only to the righteous (like Abraham at 25:8). And also like Abraham, Ishmael after breathing his last is “gathered to his people” (Gen 25:17). This wording—“breathed his last” and “gathered to his people”—appears only two more times in Genesis, at the death of Isaac (35:29) and the death of Jacob (49:33). Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob . . . and Ishmael as well.

Upon the death of Abraham, not only are Isaac and Ishmael reunited, at least briefly, but Ishmael regains his stature as a son, even if not as a chosen one.

During this season of repentance and humility, we might be tempted to remind God of our chosenness, of the favor he has already bestowed upon us. And we might wonder why we need to go through the litany of repentance and calling out for mercy, since we’ve surely been forgiven through the atoning work of Messiah Yeshua. But perhaps it’s a time to approach God in more basic, non-binary terms. We are simply human beings, loved by God but fallen and in need of his mercy—like all of humankind.  

As we enter the Days of Awe, then, let’s not resort to the shallow refuge of labeling ourselves as the good son or daughter, the chosen, the righteous, the saved, but let’s stand instead with all those in need of mercy, ki ein banu ma’asim, because we have no good works of our own.

For God has consigned all to disobedience, that he may have mercy on all. 

Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways! 

“For who has known the mind of the Lord,
    or who has been his counselor?”
“Or who has given a gift to him
    that he might be repaid?” 

For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen. (Rom 11:32–36)

All Scripture references are from the ESV.

[1] Michael Wyschogrod, “Israel, the Church, and Election” in Abraham’s Promise: Judaism and Jewish-Christian Relations (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 186–187.

Walking Life's Narrow Bridge

Photo by appratio App Builder on Unsplash

Haftarat Nitzavim, Isaiah 61:10–63:9

Rabbi Stuart Dauermann, PhD

If maintaining one’s balance is always a challenge, how much more so is this the case in tumultuous times?

The great Rabbi Nachman of Breslov (1772–1810) put it this way: “The world is a narrow bridge and the important thing is to not be afraid.” Afraid of what? Afraid of falling off onto one side, or one extreme, or the other.

From time to time, all of us are uncomfortable on the narrow bridge of life. That is when we walk by fear and not by faith, when we are called to walk by faith and not by sight.

Picture someone walking across a tightrope, walking slowly and carefully to the other side. We can only get from our “here” to God’s “there” if we can learn to keep some sort of balance. Today’s haftarah calls us to that balance and gives us some hints about how to maneuver.

The balance we must maintain is the balance between the certainty of Israel’s final redemption, and the imperative that we do all we can to hasten that redemption. To put it another way, we must walk the balance between recognizing that the salvation of Israel is in the hands of God and recognizing that he holds us all accountable to do what we can to bring it to pass.

Our haftarah takes us out onto this tightrope, as it opens this way, speaking of Israel’s final destiny:

I am so joyful in Adonai!
My soul rejoices in my God,
for he has clothed me in salvation,
dressed me with a robe of triumph,
like a bridegroom wearing a festive turban,
like a bride adorned with her jewels.
For just as the earth brings forth its plants,
or a garden makes its plants spring up,
so Adonai, God, will cause victory and glory
to spring up before all nations. (Isa 61:10–11 CJB)

Here we have the certainty of the glorious salvation of Israel in the sight of all the nations. Then, immediately following, we read of our present responsibilities—which we tend to neglect. Isaiah alludes to two responsibilities. The first is our priestly responsibility to engage in intercessory prayer for Israel, and through Israel, for the nations.

For Tziyon’s sake I will not be silent,
for Yerushalayim’s sake I will not rest,
until her vindication shines out brightly
and her salvation like a blazing torch. (Isa 62:1 CJB)

This is our prophetic responsibility. It is not to be bystanders, or observers, but rather to be participants, intercessors, doing the work to which God calls us. We are called to not be silent. We must never be the silent partners of the Holy One.

This refers first to our responsibility to not be silent in prayer. Speak to the Holy One on behalf of his people. But also, speak to our people and encourage them to align themselves with God’s salvation, especially that salvation he has provided us in Messiah.

God’s glorious salvation of Israel is in the hands of God. But we are charged for Zion’s sake to not be silent—to be diligent and persistent in the priestly work of prayer, and in the prophetic work of proclamation bringing our people to engage with God’s saving activity in the world, especially as accomplished in our Messiah and released by his Spirit.

This is why we are told,

At many times and in many ways, God spoke long ago to the fathers through the prophets. In these last days He has spoken to us through a Son, whom He appointed heir of all things and through whom He created the universe. This Son is the radiance of His glory and the imprint of His being, upholding all things by His powerful word. When He had made purification for our sins, He sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high. (Heb 1:1–3 TLV)

We also read,  

This Yeshua God raised up—we all are witnesses! Therefore, being exalted to the right hand of God and receiving from the Father the promise of the Ruach ha-Kodesh, He poured out this—what you now see and hear. (Acts 2:32–33 TLV)

He poured out his Spirit to empower us for the work of inviting and urging all people to align themselves with the will of God before the time comes when Messiah returns as judge of all.  

God is at work; that is clear. But look at the tightrope in the text—not only is he at work, but we must be at work as well. “For Tziyon’s sake I will not be silent, for Yerushalayim’s sake we must not rest, until her vindication shines out brightly and her salvation like a blazing torch.” That is God’s responsibility—bringing Israel to her promised final destiny.

Again, the issue is balance. This tightrope is what is called an antinomy—two truths that seem contradictory but which must both be affirmed—and kept in balance, lest one fall off to one side or the other. We should trust as if it all depends on God and we should pray and proclaim as if it all depends on us.

Our haftarah reminds us how the Holy One has already done the heavy lifting that guarantees his saving future.

Who is this, coming from Edom,
from Botzrah with clothing stained crimson,
so magnificently dressed,
so stately in his great strength?

“It is I, who speak victoriously,
I, well able to save.”

Why is your apparel red,
your clothes like someone treading a winepress?

“I have trodden the winepress alone;
from the peoples, not one was with me. . . .
I looked, but there was no one to help,
and I was appalled that no one upheld me.
Therefore my own arm brought me salvation,
and my own fury upheld me.” (Isa 63:1–3a, 5 CJB)

Yeshua modeled the triumph of faith and commitment: “For the joy set before Him, He endured the cross, disregarding its shame; and He has taken His seat at the right hand of the throne of God” (Heb 12:2 TLV). He is walking the tightrope ahead of us. Our task is to follow him onto that narrow bridge between our today and the tomorrow to which we are pointed by a faithful God.

How Can I Be Sure?

Parashat Ki Tavo, Deuteronomy 26:1–29:8
by Michael Hillel, Netanya, Israel

In August of 1967, The Young Rascals recorded what would become their fourth Top Ten hit, How Can I Be Sure? The chorus echoes in our thoughts as we traverse the month of Elul in preparation for the Days of Awe, Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. 

How can I be sure, in a world that’s constantly changing?

How can I be sure, where I stand with you? 

The month of Elul is a time of introspection, looking back on our lives and actions, on our thoughts and motives, on our attitudes toward the world around us. A time not just to examine, but more importantly to adjust or change what is needed and to work toward reconciliation or restoration when required—both with God and with our fellow man (or woman). So, what does Elul have to do with this song? How can we be sure where we stand in our relationship with our God as well as with others? In Deuteronomy 10:12–13, Moses encouraged Israel, 

So now, O Israel, what does Adonai your God require of you, but to fear Adonai your God, to walk in all His ways and love Him, and to serve Adonai your God with all your heart and with all your soul, to keep the mitzvot of Adonai and His statutes that I am commanding you today, for your own good? 

Moses could have ended this admonition with “for you must be holy as Adonai your God is holy,” which would have been a true statement, oft repeated in Scripture. Instead, Moses chose to end with the words, “for your own good.” Serve Hashem, keep his mitzvot, because it is “for your own good.” The prophet Micah would later write similar words, 

He has told you, humanity, what is good, and what Adonai is seeking from you: only to practice justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8)

Then there is Yeshua’s declaration to his talmidim, “If you love Me, you will keep My commandments” (John 14:15). In context, Yeshua is explaining to his talmidim how to stay in proper alignment with his father. 

Therefore, in answer to How can I be sure, where I stand with you? (in reference to standing before Hashem) the answer is quite simple—obedience to what we know we ought to do. Just to be clear, I am not talking about our eternal relationship with God or the forgiveness of our sin that comes through Yeshua, but of our daily relationship with him. It’s interesting that in Micah’s words, justice and mercy are actions focused toward our fellow man, while walking humbly is focused on Hashem. If expressed mathematically, it seems that we need to work twice as hard to ensure proper relationships with others than we do to be rightly related to Hashem. 

Now let’s consider this week’s parasha, Ki Tavo, Deuteronomy 26:1–29:8. It begins by describing the offering that Israel was to bring to the kohen (priest), after they had come into the land, and possessed and settled it (Deut 26:1). I want to draw our attention to the affirmation of the covenant in Deuteronomy 26:16–17. 

This day Adonai your God is commanding you to do these statutes and ordinances—so you are to take care and do them with all your heart and with all your soul. Today you have affirmed Adonai as your God, that you will walk in His ways, keep His statutes, mitzvot and ordinances, and listen to His voice.

Again, we see an answer as to how we can be sure of where we stand—by taking care and doing all that Hashem has requires. Moses then points out some specific areas of obedience: 

1)      Care for those in need. “When you finish tithing the full tenth of your produce in the third year, the year of the tithe, you are to give it to the Levite, to the outsider, to the orphan and to the widow, so that they may eat within your town gates and be satisfied” (Deuteronomy 26:12).

2)      Proper treatment of one another. In Deuteronomy 27, the causes of the curses that will come upon Israel are listed. Notice that these causes deal with how we treat one another:

a.       Dishonoring parents (vs 16)

b.      Misleading the blind (vs 18)

c.       Perversion of justice (vs 19)

d.      Sexual immorality (vss 20–23)

e.       Murder (vss 24–25)

3)      Idolatrous worship (vs 15). While idolatry could be considered an action toward God, the making and setting up an idol potentially draws others away from the true worship of Hashem, so that idolatry also applies to human relationships. Therefore, it could be said that all the causes of the curses are due to improper interactions with others. 

These points affirm one way to know “how we can be sure where we stand with Hashem”—by remaining properly related to others. We need to guard their dignity, to help supply their needs when we are able, and to truly see ourselves as responsible for one another’s welfare.  

Social justice and care for the poor and needy are intrinsically tied to Judaism. The conditions of this fallen world breed want and need, poverty and despair. But Hashem prepared a solution for tikkun olam, for the repair of the world. He desires to pour out his blessings on his people, not for their betterment alone, but for the welfare of the community. But this understanding of tikkun olam is not primarily motivated by the needs of others. Rather tikkun olam should motivate the people of God to follow his commandments. This week’s parasha ends with, “keep the words of this covenant and do them, so that you may prosper in all that you do” (29.8; [9]). John would later write to his community: “We know that we love God’s children by this—when we love God and obey His commandments” (1 John 5.2). 

Probably the best answer to “how can I be sure” comes from Yeshua’s answer when a lawyer asked, “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Torah?”  

And He said to him, “‘You shall love Adonai your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’” (Matt 22:36–39)

In other words, Yeshua was telling the lawyer that the greatest commandment is to be properly related to both Hashem and to one another. During this month of Elul, we can know where we stand with Hashem by ensuring that we too are properly related toward God and toward one another. 

Unless otherwise noted, Scriptures are from the Tree of Life (TLV) translation.

“How Can I Be Sure” licensed to WMG (on behalf of Atlantic Records).

Compassion in an Unjust World

Photo by Quaid Lagan on Unsplash

Parashat Ki Tetse, Deuteronomy 21:10-25:19

by Rabbi Paul L. Saal, Congregation Shuvah Yisrael, West Hartford, CT

Recently I went on a picnic with my wife and youngest daughter at a local park well known for its exceptionally groomed rose gardens. I was reminded of a time over two decades ago, when I took a leisurely walk with my wife and in-laws at the same park and we happened upon an understated and unpublicized public demonstration. At the time we went down a path that led to a small, shaded pond where we would sometimes go to relax and feed the ducks. That day the pond was crowded with about fifty participants launching tiny replica sailboats. Several spectators like ourselves probably happened serendipitously upon the event. It was not immediately apparent what the significance of the boats was until a series of speeches were given which proclaimed the activity as a commemoration of the nuclear bombing of Hiroshima by the U.S. military. I was immediately impressed by the passivity of the demonstration against war in general and nuclear proliferation specifically.  

My father-in-law, though, was visibly upset. Though he was not a hawkish type at all, he reacted to what he understood as a simplistic and naive demonstration, which had failed to acknowledge the lives saved by the historic bombing. One of those lives saved might have in fact been his own, since he had just finished boot camp in Biloxi, Mississippi, at the time of the unprecedented military action. It did not escape me then or now that the horrific attack on Hiroshima may have ironically saved not only my father-in-law’s progeny but by extension mine as well. We might ask if it is necessary to take such drastic measures in dealing with the present injustices that exist in the world to fulfill a mandate of compassion. 

This moral conundrum is still pressing today. Though I do not believe just civilizations desire to be involved in continuous and protracted violence, some would say it is often necessary for the greater good. It should be taken into account that the decision to escalate the response using weapons of mass destruction changed the history of violence exponentially. President Harry S. Truman wrote concerning the decision to drop the bomb, “I felt to extract a genuine surrender from the Emperor and his military advisors there must be administered a tremendous shock which would carry convincing proof of the power to destroy the Empire. Such an effective shock would save many times the number of lives, both American and Japanese, than it cost.” Yet reasonable people cannot be comfortable with the nuclear proliferation that has followed that initial action, as well as the use of chemical weapons and other WMDs. How should true believers feel when attempting to hold hatred of violence and compassion for those victimized in creative tension with contempt for evil and the necessity in this world for swift and proportionate justice? 

This week’s parasha, Ki Tetse, begins, “When you go to war against your enemies.” The realities and assumptions of the ancient world are expressed in this statement from God by the mouth of Moses. Notice it says “when” and not “if.” This does not mean that the Holy One universally advocates war; rather that he recognizes that in this age there will be war. In the ancient world, life was governed and patterned by morally capricious and mean-spirited deities, not a benevolent and purposeful God. The message then was clearly understood – grab what you can when you can. But Torah initiates a change in how first Israel, and then the other nations, would begin to understand and incorporate mercy and compassion into the fabric of society.  

Of course, this can be hard to observe from the first command given in this parasha. Roughly paraphrased, if a man takes a woman as a spoil of war, he is commanded to give her a place in his harem rather than merely discarding her, in this way domesticating and systematizing war rape. But there is also a caveat that if the man should grow weary of the woman, he may dismiss her, but he may not sell her into slavery. Certainly, these practices would not be deemed acceptable today anywhere in the civilized world. The men of Israel are told how to treat women captured in war, but are never told to keep their hands off, instruction which, from our ethical vantage point, would be considerably better. But within a world system where women were considered weak and inferior, valued only for their physical appeal and procreative abilities, the laws of Israel provided much greater protection. In the ancient Near East, when a woman’s apparent fate was captivity, she would beautify herself in hopes of being accorded mercy by her captors. Only in the Torah of Israel are war captives afforded this level of civility, and given an appropriate length of time to mourn their dead while being cared for and protected. Only then could they be “married” by their captors.  

Though it may sound ludicrous on the surface, the biblical narrative and stipulations do describe a process of taming an already chaotic world. Israel and its law system are radical and transforming to the ancient world of the Bible, but they do not immediately overturn the entire social order of the existing world system. To say they did not go far enough might seem like an extreme understatement from our contemporary vista, but they introduce standards of mercy that were previously absent in the ancient world. Torah describes the entrance of God’s cosmic ordering into the socio-moral plane. Israel in turn acts as the conduit of God’s principles to a world already filled with disharmony, violence, and inequality.  

Ki Tetse continues to lay out an array of commandments all concerned with ethical and moral treatment, and compassion for all. The favoring of siblings (Deut 21:15–17), dealing with unruly offspring (21:18–21), honoring the deceased (21:22–23), compassion toward animals (22:6–7; 10; 25:4), and the proper treatment of hired help (24:14–15) are all covered in this portion. Like the treatment of women, the statutes contained in this portion may at times seem inadequate, dated, or irrelevant to us. But in fact, they represent a code and trajectory that has changed and transformed the world and continues to do so, when God’s people understand and apply the intention of these commands, ordinances, and judgements. They suggest to us that first and foremost our creator wishes us to imitate him by bringing a touch of mercy into an already unjust world. Only in Torah can mercy and justice be held together in such a delicate tension.  

An ancient midrash tells of a king who possessed a delicate set of glasses. He desired to pour hot drinks into them but feared they might expand and shatter. He wished to pour cold drinks into them but feared they might contract and break. So, he chose to mix the hot and the cold beverages and pour them into the glasses, leaving them intact. In the same way, the midrash continues, the Holy One, blessed be he, mixes together mercy and justice, for if the world were filled with only justice who might stand? – but if it were filled with only mercy, evil would proliferate.  

Above all God is the Merciful One. If we wish to imitate him, we must bring compassion into all of the circumstances of life. The High Holidays are approaching, a time of reflection and introspection. This is a time when we ask the Holy One how we might better reflect his glory in the coming year.  

Rachmunas – compassion – is what we see in the Torah passage, because God is a compassionate God. If we want to make him smile, we ask ourselves the question, “How can I be a more compassionate human being and bring mercy into an often-unjust world?” As moms, dads, friends, neighbors, employers, and children of God – how can we live and act more compassionately? Through the month of Elul as you hear the shofar, and into the Days of Awe, Torah compels us to answer this question.

Are You a Perfectionist?

Parashat Shoftim, Deuteronomy 16:18–21:9

Dr. Vered Hillel, Netanya, Israel 

I am a perfectionist! For as long as I can remember, I have been a perfectionist with a passionate love of God. Together, these two characteristics have helped me be a healthy perfectionist, which is a person who has high standards and good organizational skills, is persistent, and adheres to a set of goals that energizes them but does not make them feel overwhelmed or paralyzed.  

The Bible calls us to be perfectionists. Its understanding of perfectionism, however, is quite different from that of the world in which we live. In the Bible, a perfectionist is one who walks blamelessly or wholeheartedly before Hashem, or who is whole, complete, or perfect (Gen 17:1; Josh 24:14; Psa 18:23, 26; Matt 5:48; Rom 12:2; and so forth). The command to be “perfect” is buried among the responsibilities for civil and religious authorities in this week’s parasha, “You must be tamim (perfect, blameless, wholehearted, completely loyal) before Adonai your God” (Deut 18:13). The key, then, to understanding the biblical view of perfection is the word tamim. Let’s take a brief look at various uses of this word in the Tanakh. 

We are probably most familiar with the term tamim from the Pesach (Passover) lamb, which is to be “perfect (tamim), a male one year old” (Exod 12:5). In fact, all of the sacrifices are to be tamim, meaning they are to be “unimpaired,” or “flawless,” with no blemishes, diseases or physical defects. Tamim also describes a complete year (Josh 25:3) or a complete/full day (Josh 10:13). We begin to see that tamim indicates something that is complete, or whole. When tamim is used in relation to people, however, the word refers to ethical and moral behavior related to one’s walk with God and is often contrasted with behavior that Hashem deems abhorrent or unacceptable. Scripture says that Noah was tamim in his generation and walked with God (Gen 6:9). Hashem commands Abram to “walk before me and be perfect (blameless)” (Gen 17:1). Walking with/before God indicates proper worship of and relationship with him.  

In Parashat Shoftim, B’nei Israel is standing on the other side of the Jordan River about to enter Canaan. In the midst of Moses’ farewell speech to Israel, Hashem warns B’nei Israel not to learn and imitate the behavior of the people in the land, which includes divination, sorcery, necromancy, augury, and soothsaying. Instead, B’nei Israel is to be wholehearted/ blameless/perfect before him (Deut 18:9–14). In these verses, tamim is connected with behavior; don’t behave like the world around you but be tamim. Behavior and its consequences are further contrasted in the wisdom books. Psalm 37:18–21 contrasts the consequences of the tamim with that of the wicked; Psalm 101 contrasts a person who walks in the way of tamim, which includes integrity and honesty in every area of life, with those who are proud, deceitful, dishonest, and slanderers (cf. Psa 15:2[1]— one who walks in tamim does what is right and speaks honestly). Hashem watches over the tamim and withholds no good thing from them (Psa 37:18, 84:12). Proverbs 2:21 and 11:5 contrast the tamim with the wicked.  

Hashem’s ways and Word are perfect (tamim): “As for God, his way is perfect (tamim)” (Psa 18:31) and “the Torah of Hashem is perfect (tamim) and restores life” (Psa 19:8[7]). People who walk in the ways of Torah are blessed for their actions: “How blessed are those whose actions are blameless (tamimei), who walk in the Torah of Adonai “ (Psa 119:1). Psalm 18:24[23], 26[27] also explain that a tamim person keeps Hashem’s commands and does not violate them. Psalm 119 expresses the psalmist’s plea to Hashem, “May my heart be tamim to your statutes, so that I might not be ashamed (Ps 119: 80). 

From these verses we learn that being “perfect” directly relates to our walk with God, which includes our relationship with and worship of him, imitating him and not the world around us, and loving his Word and keeping it. One who is perfect (tamim) in this manner is blessed; their soul is restored, and they lack no good thing. Notice that nothing is said in these verses about doing things wrong, or sin, or failure, or judgment. The Bible’s view of perfection is a wholehearted commitment to Hashem and his Torah. Being tamim means that a person is undivided in their loyalty to God, relying on him alone, and serving him with undivided loyalty (be-tamim u’ve’emet, Josh 24:14). Deuteronomy 32:4 tells us that Hashem’s deeds are perfect (tamim). He and his deeds are reliable and faithful, completely loyal. 

Yes, the Bible teaches us to be perfect; to be perfectionists who seek Hashem with our whole hearts, mind, and soul, and who loyally and faithfully walk with and serve him. Our perfectionism lies in imitating Hashem and his ways and not the ways or standards of the world around us. This understanding is echoed in Rav Shaul’s command, “Do not be conformed to this present world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may test and approve what is the will of God—what is good and well-pleasing and perfect (teleios=tamim).” 

As I said at the beginning, I am a perfectionist by nature. Both my perfectionism and love and desire for Hashem are gifts from him. My God-given desire for him led me to be a perfectionist by his standards and not by the world’s. I still sin, do wrong, and unintentionally struggle with the ways of the world as listed in Psalms—pride, deceit, dishonesty, and slander. But they are not who I am. I encourage all of us to be perfectionists for Hashem; to be people who imitate God with our whole hearts, mind, and soul, who with undivided loyalty and faithfulness walk with and serve him, and who are not conformed to this world, but are continually renewing our minds so we can be tamim before him.

Check Your Idols

Parashat Re’eh, Deuteronomy 11:26–16:17

Rabbi David Friedman, Jerusalem

In today’s portion, Moshe continues his exhortations to the tribes before they enter their land of inheritance.  

See, I am setting before you today a blessing and a curse — the blessing, if you listen to the mitzvot [instructions] of Adonai your God that I am giving you today; and the curse, if you don’t listen to the instructions of Adonai your God, but turn aside from the way I am ordering you today  and follow other gods that you have not known.

When Adonai your God brings you into the land you are entering in order to take possession of it, you are to put the blessing on Mount Gerizim and the curse on Mount ‘Eival. (11:26–29 CJB)

Moshe explains to the people how to enter into a life of blessing. The Hebrew word “blessing” (berakha, ברכה) comes from the word for “knee.” In the ancient Jewish mind, to be blessed was to be given reasons to bow one’s knee in thanksgiving to the Almighty. This is what Moshe was helping the nation to experience. The other option was to live lives full of cursing. The word for “curse” (kelala, קללה) comes from the word “lightweight,” reminding us of the properties of a feather. So if one is cursed, one’s life has the effect and influence of a feather. Everything one does comes to naught. So Moshe pulls no punches here. He makes it quite clear that there are two options for the twelve tribes in the Land of Israel: a life of obedience and blessing or a cursed life.  

The first exhortation is to listen to God’s instructions as they are taught by Moshe. “Listen,” or shema (שמע) in Hebrew, is best translated as “physically hear with the intention of carrying out what you hear.” That is, put yourself in a position to do what you are taught. The word is in its plural form, so Moshe was addressing the entire nation: all twelve tribes are being exhorted to do what they are learning and hearing. 

Then Moshe tells them that they are to have a ceremony at the site of Shechem (close to today’s modern city of Nablus). This ceremony will have part of the people stand on Mt. Gerizim, and the others on Mt. Ebal, reciting the blessings and curses involved in obeying or disobeying God’s instructions. We later read about that ceremony in Joshua 8. It is a testimony to the enduring power of God’s words that even in modern times, the area around Mt. Gerizim (the hill of blessings) is green, while the area around Mt. Ebal (the hill of curses) is much dustier, much more desolate. That is how those two high places looked when I went there on a personal pilgrimage just one month ago. “When Adonai your God brings you into the land you are entering in order to take possession of it, you are to put the blessing on Mount Gerizim and the curse on Mount ‘Eival” (11:29 CJB). 

Moshe concludes this section with his constant and repeating point: “And you are to take care to follow all the laws and rulings I am setting before you today” (11:32 CJB). 

It is amazing how heartfelt obedience to God influenced matters then (and now, too!). It is perhaps paralleled, to some degree, by the parent-child relationship. Those of you who are parents know that nothing is more pleasing than when your child does something they know will please you with all their heart. It makes us parents happy, grateful, and pleased. I imagine God looks at things similarly when his people do what pleases him with all our hearts. 

It is worthwhile to note the very first thing on the to-do list of God’s instructions is to deal with idolatry. It is written: 

You must destroy all the places where the nations you are dispossessing served their gods, whether on high mountains, on hills, or under some leafy tree. Break down their altars, smash their standing-stones to pieces, burn up their sacred poles completely and cut down the carved images of their gods. Exterminate their name from that place. But you are not to treat Adonai your God this way. (12:2–4 CJB)

 And again, Moshe re-emphasizes this need:

Be careful not to be ensnared by inquiring about their gods, saying, “How do these nations serve their gods? We will do the same.” You must not worship your God in their way, because in worshiping their gods, they do all kinds of detestable things Adonai hates. They even burn their sons and daughters in the fire as sacrifices to their gods. (Deut 12:30–31)

He continued, in this talk, to emphasize this line of thought:  

If your very own brother, or your son or daughter, or the wife you love, or your closest friend secretly entices you, saying, “Let us go and worship other gods” (gods that neither you nor your ancestors have known, gods of the peoples around you, whether near or far, from one end of the land to the other), do not yield to them or listen to them. (Deut 13:6–8)

We can see how crucial it was to eliminate all traces of idolatry. Idolatry is one thing that God would not tolerate, the quickest way to threaten the covenant relationship with him. Even the former places of Canaanite idolatry were to be destroyed. God did not want his beloved people to be tripped up and have their lives ruined by idolatry. Entrance into the Land of Promise was only the beginning. The presence of Jacob’s descendants in the Land was to be anchored by a covenant-based faithfulness to God. That is, their blessings would depend upon how well they followed God’s instructions, as explained in the covenants. It really wasn’t hard to please God: love him will all one’s heart, love one’s neighbors, and keep God’s instructions. That was the winning formula. And it is this winning formula that Moshe now takes pains to carefully impart to the people. This is what we see in our parasha this week.

Today’s parasha also contains part of Israel’s economic structure that is simply marvelous. Let’s remember that it was God who conceived this structure: 

At the end of every seven years you must cancel debts. This is how it is to be done: Every creditor shall cancel any loan they have made to a fellow Israelite. They shall not require payment from anyone among their own people, because Adonai’s time for canceling debts has been proclaimed. . . . However, there need be no poor people among you, for in the land Adonai your God is giving you to possess as your inheritance, he will richly bless you, if only you fully obey Adonai your God and are careful to follow all these instructions I am giving you today. For Adonai your God will bless you as he has promised, and you will lend to many nations but will borrow from none. (15:1–6) 

In today’s world, there is much ado being made about viable economic structures and policies. Countries really struggle to find a system that promotes national wealth and doesn’t bankrupt their citizens. In ancient Israel, all people were considered valuable; their economic welfare was to be a concern of everyone. A key to economic blessing was forgiveness of debts. God never meant for there to be poor people anywhere in the nation.   By including these instructions, Moshe was tying together how doing what the Torah instructs promotes blessing in all of society, for everyone.

 I get the feeling that after hearing this set of talks by Moshe, the prevailing attitude was an enthusiastic “Yala, kadimah” (Modern Hebrew for “let’s get up and go”). Moshe instilled confidence in God by his words. And we are told that that entire younger generation did indeed keep the Torah as they settled the Land: “Israel served Adonai throughout the lifetime of Joshua and of the elders who outlived him and who had experienced everything Adonai had done for Israel” (Joshua 24:31). 

Moshe is a master instructor, and that is what we see him doing in today’s parasha. We would do well to pay attention today to the messages found in our still-precious Torah. 

Unless otherwise noted, Scripture citations are the author’s translation based on the NIV.