Deuteronomy

דברים

Devarim - Deuteronomy 1:1— 3:22

LOOKING AHEAD

Each year as we come to the opening reading of the Book of Deuteronomy, as we do this Shabbat, I feel mixed emotions. During these warm days of mid and late summer, I have a sense of passing and loss together with feelings of appreciation and expectation.

Deuteronomy, in Hebrew, “Devarim,” is the fifth and final book of the Torah. Unlike the first four books, which carry us on a journey from creation to the days of our patriarchs and matriarchs, through the exciting events of the Exodus from Egypt and our ancestors’ adventures in the wilderness on the way to the Promised Land, Deuteronomy marks the end of a hard journey with all the joy and sorrow that entails.

Deuteronomy presents Moses’ final messages to the people he led from slavery to freedom and guided for forty long years. Moses, who is approaching death, recalls the events of our people’s wandering in the desert and reviews the laws and precepts that are to guide them as they live without his leadership in the Land of Israel. He admonishes our people to be loyal to our God and to our laws and customs after they cross over the Jordan River and take possession of the land that he will never enter.

As I read Deuteronomy, I feel for Moses. On the one hand, I think about how worried Moses must have been as he prepared his people for their new life, how sad he must have felt to leave them, how disappointed he must have been to know that he would never enter the Promised Land, and how brave he was to face them and share his thoughts. On the other hand, I think about his sense of accomplishment and satisfaction at coming all the way and building a new nation with a new mission.

Our ancestors, the people Moses addressed at the end of his life, were truly Moses’ children. He had guided their parents and grandparents, the people he led out of Egypt, and had watched the maturation of this first generation born in freedom. He knew their strengths and weaknesses. He knew that their souls, unlike their parents’ souls, were not burdened by the experience of slavery but he also knew that they, unlike their parents, had not been tested by struggle.

This was the generation fed on manna, the miraculous food of the years of wandering, and guided day and night by the divine presence. Moses knew that soon they would grow up in a new land, with new leaders, and he would be with them only in memory.

I think also of Moses’ audience, our ancestors. How frightened they must have been to learn that they would have to face the future without their inspired leader. They knew that their lives were about to change radically but could not imagine what that might mean. One chapter of their lives was coming to an end and it was their privilege and responsibility to write the next chapter. With the sense of accomplishment at coming so far and the feeling of excitement as they considered the next steps, I can only imagine how hard it must have been to concentrate on Moses’ instructions and admonitions.

On a personal level, the beginning of the Book of Deuteronomy reminds me that this is a special time of the year. The summer is half over and, at according to the Jewish calendar, the year is coming to an end. Now is the time for me to begin my preparations for the new year but I still have the chance to celebrate the joys of the season. The Book of Deuteronomy will guide me on my spiritual journey from the mid-summer commemoration of Tisha be-Av through fall celebrations of the High Holidays and Sukkot. As Moses asked the Israelites at the end of their journey to look back and review all they had experienced and to prepare for their new life in the land of Israel, Deuteronomy will provide me this summer, as it has always done, with the occasion to review the past year and begin my spiritual preparations for the next.

As we all study the Book of Deuteronomy during the course of the next two and a half months, we will have the opportunity to review the epic history of our people, to study the practices that define Jewish life, to consider the moral and ethical teachings of our tradition and to imagine our future as individuals and as a people. We will be able to share Moses’ concerns and feelings as he prepares his children, our ancestors, for their future. If we listen carefully, we will be like Joshua, Moses’ successor, encouraged and strengthened by Moses’ words. We can savor what is left of the summer and look ahead with renewed strength to the coming new year.

Va-Etchanan – Deuteronomy 3:23-7:11

GOD’S LOVE OF ISRAEL

The Jewish spiritual tradition is like a symphony full of diverse themes and motifs. From time to time, one or another comes forward. Sometimes the various themes blend in pleasing harmonies and at times they clash in thrilling and challenging dissonances. The beats and rhythms change. One movement follows another. Themes appear, recede, only to reappear again.

One of the most abiding themes of Jewish faith is the love between God and Am Yisrael, the Jewish people. God loves Am Yisrael unconditionally and the Jewish people reply to that love by striving to fulfill their loving God’s wishes. God’s love for us is unearned and undeserved. Our love of God is our joyful and thankful response.

God’s love underlies the intimate bond God had with Abraham and the promises of progeny, prosperity and property God made to the Patriarchs. God’s love motivates the Brit, the Covenant, of Sinai. Our Torah, the sacred scroll whose words anchor Jewish life, belief and practice, is a lasting monument to that love.

God’s love of Am Yisrael forms the spiritual framework within which the Jewish people live. We live Jewish lives following the patterns and practices of the Jewish tradition, not in order to earn God’s love but as a loving answer to God’s loving call. As we strive to make the values and insights of our people real in our lives, our efforts manifest God’s love.

This theme animates much of our worship. It plays a central role in our mystic tradition. It is the non-rational foundation of our legal and moral teachings. The desire to experience, to explain, and to express God’s love of us and our love of God underlies the remarkable spiritual creativity of our mystics, philosophers, poets and saints.

The relationship between God and Israel is complex so our spiritual love song is not an easy melody. Real love is never simple, so the music of our soul captures the ups and downs of our spiritual partnership. We may question, but our loving God is true. We may be fickle, but God is faithful. We may wander, but God calls us home. If we lose our way, God’s Torah can guide us back. If we err, we may be punished but God will never forget us nor leave us alone. God always loves as an affectionate parent, a patient teacher, a loyal spouse, and a trustworthy ruler.

We, the Jewish people, have sung this Jewish love theme many times in many places with many voices, but the basic melody is ancient. We hear it expressed in Sefer Devarim, the Book of Deuteronomy, the fifth and final book of our Torah.

Deuteronomy presents Moses’s valedictory addresses to our ancestors just prior to his death and their entry into the Promised Land. It is the book of God’s love and God’s law. The wisdom, insight, understanding and direction contained within demonstrate God’s abiding concern and affection for us. They set us apart as a nation. They offer us a unique destiny. If we listen to them carefully and accept them seriously, we will be rewarded. But if we ignore them; we ignore them at our own risk. They are our source of life and vitality. By hearkening to them, we come close to God and in that closeness we find life (Deuteronomy 4:4).

In Deuteronomy this all seems very simple. We know why we love God — God rescued us from Egypt, sustained us in the wilderness and brought us to the borders of the Promised Land. We respond to God’s care and compassion by loving God back.

The Deuteronomic call for us to love God appears in its best known form in this week’s Torah portion, Va-etchanan, — “You shall love the Eternal Your God with all your heart, soul and might.”(Deuteronomy 6:4) Throughout the portion, Moses exhorts our Israelite ancestors to show loving loyalty to God by following God’s directives, by rejecting idolatry, and by fearlessly embarking on the next stage in their journey — gaining possession of the Promised Land.

We know why we love God, but why God loves us remains a mystery. Despite all the laws, rules, regulations, ordinances and judgments that fill the Book of Deuteronomy — all the many discrete acts and practices that we as loyal and loving Jews do — Deuteronomy teaches us that God’s love is unconditional. We do not earn God’s love. For some unknown reason, God just loves us for being us, as Moses explains near the end of the weekly portion:

For you are a people consecrated to the Eternal, your God. Of all the peoples of the earth, the Eternal, your God, chose you to be His treasured people. It is not because you are the most numerous of peoples that the Eternal set His heart on you and chose you — indeed, you are the smallest of people; but it was because the Eternal loved you and kept the oath He made to your ancestors, that the Eternal freed you with a mighty hand and rescued you from the house of bondage, from the power of Pharaoh king of Egypt. (Deuteronomy 7:6-8)

We are God’s betrothed. We are God’s special treasure. But we are not mighty, numerous, or even particularly virtuous. We are who we are and still God loves us. More amazingly, God is willing to enter into a covenant with us and be part of our lives.

These are the contours of this powerful love theme as it plays in our Jewish spiritual life. It is not always an easy song to play and it has many variations. It is inspiring and challenging. It is deep and mysterious. It provides us with a multi-faceted vocabulary to describe the most powerful and most intimate of human experiences.

Composers and musicians do not believe in themes. Themes are not a matter of faith. Themes, musical motifs, and melodies are concepts not to be proven but to be played.

So it is with spiritual artists as well. They do not see statements of religious faith as dogma to be affirmed or rejected but as themes to explore, as spiritual notes, phrases, and motifs to be twisted and turned, broken and combined to expand our spiritual vision and religious life. The theme of the love between God and Israel has proven to be one of the most fruitful of all our people’s spiritual treasures and it still inspires the best in our hearts and souls.

Eikev - Deuteronomy 7:12-11:15

MOSES THE THEOLOGIAN

This week I am reviewing the proofs for my soon-to-appear new book, I Am: A Journey in Jewish Faith. If one were to describe it, it would be a theology that is a book about God.

Theology is a weighty term for many people, but it is a rather simple process. We all do it. Theology is talking about God. It is the attempt to articulate in a reasonable way those formative life experiences that connect us to that which is beyond us and to that which gives meaning and purpose to our lives. It is pausing for a moment or more to reflect upon our lives and to find a way to express our insights in words.

Theology helps us develop a way to talk about our ultimate commitments. A working theology is our latest, but not last, word about God and about us. A good theology needs to be flexible enough to handle life’s changing circumstances and strong enough to keep us from being swept away.

Theology takes different forms. Many are familiar with lengthy, dense tractates, which, in the style of philosophy, explicate analytically the fundamentals of religious faith and their significance in the believer’s life.

But there are other ways to do theology. Our sages enjoyed telling stories about God. Poets use words to turn our hearts to God. Halakhah, Jewish law, attempts to express beliefs about God in activities of daily human life. Most theology, however, is done when we talk seriously about what we believe and do not believe about God.

Our theologies grow out of the events and circumstances of our lives. All that has formed us – our culture, our spiritual heritage, our mother tongue, where and when we live – provides us with the tools we need to talk about God.

For Jews, theology, God talk, is an ancient practice. The Book of Deuteronomy, in Hebrew, Devarim, “Words”, presents the advice Moses offers to our ancestors just prior to their entrance into the Promised Land. Moses’ insights are buttressed by theological statements.

One of these appears in the Torah portion Eikev where Moses contends that Israel needs to keep the covenant because “the Eternal your God is God supreme and Lord supreme, the great, mighty and awesome God, who shows no favor and takes no bribe, but upholds the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and befriends the stranger, providing him with food and clothing – You, too, must befriend the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt. (Deuteronomy 10: 17-19)

Here Moses’ understanding of God rests on his experience of God. Moses perceived God’s saving and protecting power in Egypt, at the Red Sea and through the years of wandering, The God Moses knew was not only powerful but used that power to care for those who are powerless. Human rank, privilege and power had no influence on Moses’ God. His God’s heart turned to those who lack such things, and, for Moses, we, as people who have taken on that image of God as our own had to do likewise. We, who were the powerless strangers whom God saved from Egyptian bondage needed to befriend the powerless in our midst, especially strangers.

Moses’ words are clearly not all of Jewish theology but are a good starting place for us to articulate our own theology as Jews. They are grounded in experience, full of awe and contain a clear action directive.

Over the centuries Jews have developed any number of theologies responding to the defeats and triumphs of the Jewish people and the ups and downs of their personal lives. Our tradition models for us many ways to talk about God. Some may move us and some might leave us cold. Some may seem incredible while others may reflect our own insights. Whether they work for us or not, they provide the tools we can use to construct a theology that works for us.

By doing theology we seek the truth about ourselves in relationship with our highest values. If our theology is like Moses’ theology – grounded in the events of our lives, filled with wonder and pushing us to reach beyond ourselves – then we, too, are good theologians.

R’eih - Deuteronomy 11:26-16:17

DREAMS AND REALITY

Few things are more painful than to inform a needy person that there is nothing that can be done to help them. After reviewing their predicament and providing counseling, advice, suggestions, referrals, and, all too often, stop gap assistance, there comes a time when it is clear that there is no way out. The circumstances change. It might be housing for a disabled adult, or medical care for a senior, or a way to avoid deportation for an alien. Whatever it is, I dread the moment when I have to say that not only am I unable to help, but there is no aid available.

What happens next has become all too predicable. Whatever hope my clients held on to evaporates. A curtain of disappointment and despair falls upon them. They thank me, often profusely, for all my efforts. Sometimes, we cry together.

Then comes the unanswerable question. “Rabbi, why in this country, the greatest country on earth, . . .” or “Rabbi, why in this wealthy Jewish community . . . why can’t someone find a home for my sick son, or provide this therapy for my sister, or find a place for my family, or give me enough money for both food and medicine?”

I sit there frustrated, often in pain, sometimes in shame because I know the answer and I bear some of the responsibility. The people facing me are stuck because of the choices we have made and the priorities we have set as citizens of our country and as members of our community. Rarely, is it that we, as a people, are unaware of the problem. Sometimes, we just lack the funds. Other times, we do want to take on the additional expense. All too often, we lack the vision or the courage to make our vision real. But the question still gnaws on me. Why is it that we allow poverty to cloud our potential greatness as a nation?

This week’s Torah portion, R’eih, presents us with the relationship between our dream – that all our people can share in our nation’s blessings – and our reality – that poverty persists, in spite of our best efforts, and there are many we do not help. The Torah portion begins a passage discussing the need to provide loans to the poor with the vision statement “There shall be no needy among you – since the Eternal, your God, will bless the land. . . .” (Deuteronomy 15:4). It concludes the section, however, not with the hope that following the directives to lend to the poor will eliminate poverty. Rather, somewhat sadly, it seems, the Torah informs us that poverty will continue: “. . . there will never cease to be needy ones in your land . . . ” (Deuteronomy 15:11).

It seems, that even at our best, when we follow the instructions of the Torah, we will be confronted with need and poverty. No one anti-poverty program, not even the Torah’s, will be ultimately successful. But for the Torah that is no excuse to abandon our dreams and despair. There will always be people less fortunate the most, but in a society blessed by God there will always be new visions, new policies and new programs to spread the blessings.

I hate saying, “I’m sorry. There is nothing more we can do.” I feel helpless and useless. My heart breaks. I know that I have pronounced a sentence that condemns both the needy and my communities. Yet we are the lucky ones. We will get another chance. The Torah tells us that we can do better, and that the persistence of poverty is a challenge and a goad. “There will never cease to be needy ones in your land,” the Torah tells us, “which is why I (the Eternal God) command you: open your hand to the poor and needy in your land” (Deuteronomy 15:11). Our response to the impossible case with the unanswerable question is not to give up but to try harder – to stretch our hands deeper in and further out. Our blessing is our ability to respond creatively and effectively to the challenges changing circumstances present us. We can, if we choose, do better next time.

But my heart is still troubled. I will have another chance. Will there be a next time for my client?

ITS POLITICS AND NOT RELIGION

Sefer Devarim, the Book of Deuteronomy, is a political document. In the narrative sequence of Torah, Deuteronomy contains Moses’ instructions to the Israelites before they cross the Jordan and enter the Promised Land to establish a Jewish polity in what will be thereafter known as Eretz Yisrael, the Land of the People of Israel. Moses’ teaching, the Torah, will serve as Israel’s constitution, and God will be Israel’s legitimate sovereign.

Modern Biblical scholarship reinforces this insight. The structure of the Book of Deuteronomy follows that of treaties between powerful kings and their vassals from the Ancient Near East. Above all, the sovereign demands loyalty from his vassals in light of the good he has already done for them and the blessing he will bestow upon them for their continuing fidelity.

Thus, loyalty to God as Israel ruler is a primary demand in Deuteronomy.

Reading Deuteronomy as a political document both helps us understand difficult passages and presents new challenges. For contemporary readers dedicated to the principle of religious freedom the demand in Parashat Re’eh for the strictest punishment for Israelite individuals and communities who chose to worship gods other than the God of Israel is problematic. However, the issue here is not one of religious freedom, but of national loyalty. In the biblical context, an Israelite who worshipped a foreign god was not a heretic, one who pursues an alternative religious path, but a traitor, a person who betrays the sovereign and undermines the constitution. In contemporary American terms, the biblical expression of “worshipping” or “serving” other gods is offering allegiance and working for foreign powers and or concerns whose interests are opposed to those of the people of the United States and our constitution. The severe punishments demanded by Deuteronomy are congruent with the harsh punishments we give to spies, terrorists, and traitors – long prison sentences and/or capital punishment.

Yet, underlying problems still exist. Until modern times, religious conformity and political loyalty went hand-in-hand. Concepts such as tolerance and freedom of conscience took centuries to develop in Western civilization. Setting the proper relationship between religious and political institutions remains difficult not only in our country but in other modern democracies. It is even more problematic in those communities where religious identity long served to cement cultural and ethnic ties. In countries such as Israel and Turkey there are serious discussions concerning the relationship of state institutions with the various manifestations of the peoples’ historic religious commitments. The challenge to find an appropriate balance is greater in those nations who are beginning the process of modernization and, hopefully, democratization. In the modern world, however, the conflict more often is not between one religious system and another, but it is rather between religious traditionalists and secularists, or within the religious community itself as adherents struggle to balance contemporary thought and knowledge with ancient traditions.

For a diaspora community, such as the American Jewish community in which religious identity still plays a central role in our community structures and in our own self-definition, the boundaries set by faith and those set by ethnic identity and cultural heritage are closely intertwined. It seems impossible to separate the social and communal aspects of American Jewish life from our people’s religious heritage and its multifaceted contemporary expression. We regularly confront the challenge to separate legitimate criticism, discussion, and debate from positions, which seem to betray or undercut the Jewish community at home and throughout the world.

Within the Torah reading’s draconian strictures, we can find guidance. Paying obeisance to foreign deities was a clear rejection of our people’s covenant with God and the loyalty to God and the community that covenant demanded. People who did so placed themselves not only outside the community, but in opposition to it. The Bible, however, presents a lively discussion concerning what it means to be loyal to God, to the Israelite nation and to the covenant.

In contemporary terms, this means that our Jewish community is open to all those whose commitment to Jewish peoplehood appears in their wish to participate in Jewish life, building and strengthening their connection to our people’s social, educational cultural and spiritual institutions. Only those who choose to leave are out.

BRINGING OUR GIFTS TO GOD

We are rapidly approaching the month of Elul. In the Jewish calendar, Elul is a month of spiritual preparation for the Fall holidays of Rosh HaShanah (the Jewish New Year), Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement), and Sukkot (the Feast of Booths). It is the beginning of our season of repentance. We review the past year by evaluating all that we have done and considering all that we have experienced, and prepare to present ourselves before God.

Yet, what are we to bring to God in this holy season?

Many of us will bring our troubles to God looking for comfort or consolation. Every year has its problems and this past year has been no different. War, disease, natural disaster, and economic uncertainty have touched our Jewish brothers and sisters in Israel and throughout the world and have challenged us, as American, at home and abroad. We have been personally touched by loss, pain and disappointment. Some of us have lost loved one. Others have been challenged by injury and disease. Some have suffered the end of a marriage, the breakup of a friendship, and the loss of a job. Once again, most, if not all, of our dreams have not come true. Life never seems easy and we turn to God for strength.

Others of us bring our fears and worries to God. The future is always in doubt. We are frightened for our families, our nation, our people, our world and ourselves. We often feel that currents we cannot control are dragging us along to places we do not care to visit. Even life’s moments of joy and celebration cause us to worry. Will my child be happy in her marriage? Will I find meaning in my retirement? Will my son succeed in his new job? Will I do well in college?

Life always seems uncertain and we turn to God for assurance.

Yet others of us bring their dreams and desires to God. We always seem to want more than what we already have. We may dream of wealth, honor, fame or prestige. We may see ourselves winning the lottery or being chosen the American Idol. We envision the security wealth may offer us and the good deeds we could do if we only had the time and the resources. Life can always be better and we turn to God for rewards.

We bring many things with us as we approach God in prayer and worship — our troubles, our fears, and our disappointments. The time we spend in prayer may provide us some comfort, some security and some joy, but we often leave disappointed. We poured out our hearts in prayer but when we exit our synagogues, we discover that our world is still the same as it was when we came in.

Perhaps, we have brought the wrong gifts with us.

The Torah portion Re’eh concludes with a short ritual calendar (Deuteronomy 16), which describes the three pilgrimage festivals — Pesach, Shavuot and Sukkot. The Torah reminds us that three times a year we were to assemble “in the place that the Eternal will choose” and present our offerings to God. In those ancient days, when our worship included sacrifice, the Torah instructed us to bring our own gift to the Eternal One according to the blessing that the Eternal our God has bestowed upon each of us. (Deut. 16:17) No matter what our circumstances might have been, we were to seek our blessings and return a bit of them to God.

Each holiday tells a different story and bears a different message. The theme that binds all these holidays, however, is that of thanksgiving. We are directed to examine our lives in our present context and discern our blessings and bring them before God.

Although sacrifice has not been part of our worship for almost two thousand years, we still approach God in prayer. Our sages of old building on the wisdom of our biblical prophets understood that Avodah Shebelev, prayer (literally service of the heart) not only replaced the Avodat Korban, the system of sacrifices in Temple, but was preferable to it. The offering from our hearts reflects who we are and who we want to be far better than the sacrifice given by our hands. Now as we approach the Fall holidays, the most sacred season in Jewish life today, the words of Parashat Re’eh challenge us to measure our blessings and present them to God in prayer.

At times it is easy to count our blessings. More often than not we have been able to enjoy the good things of life. When life is going reasonable well, bringing our blessings to God often involves no more than a slight change in perspective. We learn to be grateful for our true wealth, that is having all that we need and some of what we want.

There are times, however, in every life, when our troubles, our fears, and our disappointments are our reality and it is hard to find blessings in darkness. Even here we have gifts of thanksgiving to offer. In loss, we find the blessing of memory. With troubles, we discover the blessing of courage. Through fear, we encounter the blessing of hope. Confronting disappointment, we encounter the blessing of endurance. Facing challenges, we uncover the blessing of meaning.

If these are the blessings life has bestowed upon us, these are blessing we need to bring to God. Our gifts are the blessings so painfully gained as we lived with our troubles, fears, and regrets. The time we spend in prayer now not only gives us some comfort, some security, and some joy, but also a new outlook and a new way of thinking. When we leave our synagogues, we will not leave disappointed. Our situation may be just the same as it was when we entered, but this time our world has changed, because we presented the acceptable gift.

There is much in life that is we did not make. Most of what we have or lack we have not earned. The good and the bad we face are often not of our choosing. But it is up to us to discover our blessings, to measure and count them and with a sense of thanksgiving, present them to God.

Shoftim – Deuteronomy 16:18 - 21:9

“MELECH HA-OLAM” — SOVEREIGN OF ALL

We seldom realize it but each time we pronounce a blessing, we are making a political statement. Imbedded in the formula that introduces every blessing are the words which declare that our Eternal God is melech ha-olam, Sovereign of the Universe. Every time we express our gratitude for the opportunities and experiences life offers us, we also affirm our loyalty to God as our sovereign and acknowledge our citizenship in the Divine One’s dominion. In Hebrew this is called kabbalat ol malchut shamayim, “accepting the yoke of the kingdom of heaven.”

This basic Jewish concept appears as one of the central themes of our worship. Our tradition understands our recitation of the Shema as way to witness our acceptance of God’s rule over our lives. When we bring our worship to a conclusion with the Aleinu prayer, we thank God for our unique destiny and bow before God’s sovereign power and finish the prayer the hope that in the future all nations will join together acknowledging God as the Ruler of All. Earthly dominion will pass away and we will recognize that we are all God’s subjects.

The understanding that God is the only true sovereign forms the base for biblical and later Jewish political thought. Since sovereignty rests in God, the power and authority of human kings and governments are merely contingent. Human government is not an end in itself. That would be idolatry, the worship of a human creation. Human rule exists as a means to enhance human life. We measure the legitimacy of any human regime by a high moral standard — the manner in which it promotes the welfare of all God’s children, particularly the most vulnerable in society; the poor, the homeless, and the stranger.

The Bible’s appreciation of earthly kings and kingship is at best ambiguous. On the one hand, our tradition honors David and his descendants despite their foibles. The Bible understands how the establishment of the monarchy brought to an end the chaos at the end of the period of the judges. On the other hand, foreign rulers, such as pharaoh, often appear as tyrants opposed to God’s will. Often Israelite rulers do not fare much better. The historical books of the Bible — Samuel, Kings and Chronicles — present a highly critical picture of the monarchy in the two ancient Jewish kingdoms, the northern kingdom of Israel and the southern kingdom of Judah. The great political dramas of these books frequently center on struggle between the representatives of royal authority and those loyal to the laws, customs and traditions of Israel.

This equivocal attitude toward political authority in general and kingship in particular appears in this week’s Torah portion which is, for the most part, concerned with the establishment of Israel’s judicial, political and religious offices to enforce God’s covenant — priests, prophets, judges and kings. In this week’s portion, Moses describes various regulations concerning the priesthood (Deuteronomy 18:1-8) and presents criteria for determining legitimate prophets (18:14-22) and while he mandates the appointment of various judges and other magistrates to administer justice (16:18-20), he presents the establishment of a monarchy as optional ( 17:14-20). In the eyes of the Torah, kingship is different from the other three offices whose authority grows out of the covenantal relationship between God and Israel. Prophets serve as God’s mouth piece and priests regulate and conduct the worship of God. Even judges and magistrates have no independent authority. Their role is to ensure that disputes between Israelites, God’s people, are resolved peacefully and justly. They are to follow the divine directive: tzedek, tzedek tidrof, — Justice, justice shall you pursue! (Deuteronomy 16:20)

Unlike the offices of prophets, priests and magistrates, the office of kingship appears in the Torah as a foreign import. The Torah does not mandate a certain political system. This week we learn that if the Israelites desire a king to rule them just as the other nations have kings ruling them, they are free to select one (17:14). They need to make sure, however, that their king remains subject to God and God’s covenant and be a loyal member of the nation he serves (17:15).

They must remember that the institution of monarchy presents a risk. With the enhanced efficiency of centralized rule, there may also be a loss of freedom. They need to be aware of a monarch’s tendency to self- aggrandizement. Kings build large armies, sacrifice the well being of citizens for their own grandeur, enhance their own prestige and amass great fortunes at the people’s expense (17:16-17). The Israelites need to find ways to control the potential excesses of a monarchy.

To limit the ruler’s power, the Torah presents what we might describe as a constitutional monarchy. The king is to be subject to the covenant and is required to study his own copy of the law so that he remains obedient to it (17:18-19). Just as Israel’s possession of the Land of Israel depends on their loyalty to God’s covenant, an Israelite king’s possession of the throne depends on his devotion to God’s law (17:20).

Ultimately, the Torah recognizes only one true ruler — God. All human leaders, kings, prophets, judges and priests, even Moses, himself, are limited in insight, understanding, and wisdom. Even the best rulers are tempted by the perquisites of their office and many fall to the temptations of authority. In the biblical context, it is the function of the other offices to remind the ruler of his place as a servant of God and the people. In the end, however, it is the responsibility of every individual, not only the king, to take the royal task to give power to truth and make God’s heavenly dominion a reality here on earth and, more importantly, to take the prophetic role of speaking truth to power and remind us all that we are to be subjects of the Sovereign God.

Ki Teitzei – Deuteronomy 16:18- 21.9

TO DEFEND AND PROTECT

While the first step in reading the Bible is to try to access the basic, in Hebrew – p’shat , meaning of the text, this is often the most difficult. Not only are the Biblical texts so old and remote, our vision is clouded by centuries of interpretation which hope to derive spiritual and practical guidance from this ancient anthology, in Hebrew – derash. Throughout Western Culture, many have often seen in the Bible, a mirror of the social, economic and political realities of their world. The timelessness of the Bible as spiritual literature easily invokes anachronistic readings.

Much of the bare bones legislation found in this week’s Torah portion, Ki Teizei, deals with issues that focus on family and marital law. While the legal pronouncements appear clear, we lack the cultural context to appreciate how these laws functioned in the lives of our ancestors.

Still, I believe that it is possible to sense some of the underlying societal assumptions and cultural concerns underlying these laws. While the legislative solutions proposed by them may not be applicable in our our times, the issues they sought to resolve still confound us and the underlying assumptions are still worthy of our attention.

Deuteronomy 22:23 – 28 discusses the rape of a betrothed woman. In one regard, this is a very narrow law. It addresses the ambiguous status of a woman who is legally bound to her husband-to-be but not married and part of his household. She is, neither a fully independent actor like a widow or divorcee, nor is she fully part of her family of origin. The laws state that if she is assaulted in an urban area and calls out, only the man is liable for capital punishment, but if she does not call out, both she and the man who assaulted her are liable. However, if the rape occurred in the field, only the man is liable, because there would be no one to rescue her whether or not she called out.

While the circumstances of this case as well as later interpretation demand a serious analysis of the status of women in the Biblical period and later, there are two basic assumptions that are still resonate today. The first is that one defends oneself even though one might still be overcome and the second is that one is aids of one’s neighbor when she or he may be in danger.

In a fundamental way, all people have to be empowered to defend themselves and protect others. As a society, we need to ensure that girls and boys, women and men have a strong enough sense of self-worth that they are willing to stand up for themselves and we need to give them the tools to do so. Above all, they need to know that there will be someone to respond to their call. To take the plight of the oppressed seriously, we, as a community, need to develop a sense of mutual responsibility. To paraphrase the “Golden Rule”, we need to be willing to stand up for others so that others might stand up for us.

In many cases of abuse, oppression, and exploitation in general, and in the case of sexual assault in particular, for the victim the contrast between city and field is not one of location. They are not different physical places but rather different social and spiritual perceptions. She is in “the .city” wherever she can be sure that people are there to hear her cries and take her situation seriously. She is in the “the field” wherever and whenever she feels alone. It is our responsibility to make sure that she is never out there alone.

In an uncanny way, a law, which seems to deal with a very specific set of circumstances dealing with guilt and liability of individuals, rests on a basic understanding that it is the responsibility of the community to provide mutual support and assistance to the vulnerable. People need to be empowered to stand-up for themselves and that can only happen when they knew that the friends and neighbors, their community and society, is there to support them.

Ki Tavo – Deuteronomy 26:1-29:8

THE POOR TITHE

Underlying the ritual concerns of the Book of Deuteronomy is the conviction that the poor, the vulnerable, the homeless – all those on the edges of the community – are as much part of God’s household as the priests who serve in God’s house. Those who dwell on the margins of society have a home in God’s heart. Therefore, support for those who have little or none is central to the ritual life of those who have been blessed with material success. It is a “religious obligation” to care for the poor as much as the offering of sacrifices, the recitation of prayers, and the celebration of the festivals.

Care for the dispossessed – in Deuteronomy’s language “the widow, the orphan, the stranger, and the Levite” – has an individual and a communal dimension. As individuals, we have a direct responsibility to care for the poor. During the festivals, Deuteronomy mandates that our ancestors were to share their family’s celebration with the Levites, strangers, orphans and widows. (16; 11, 14) We are forbidden to taking advantage of a person’s vulnerability (24:14-15,17-18). We are directed to leave portions of our fields, orchards and vineyards for the poor (24:19-22). We have to offer loans to the poor even when we knew that the loan would be absolved at the coming year of release. (15:9)

Beyond that, there is a communal responsibility. According to Deuteronomy, God has provided us with a land that has all the resources required to provide for everyone’s needs. If there are needy among us, it is not that God has not given us the resources, but that we have not used them justly. The presence of the poor challenges, accuses, and condemns us as greedy, selfish, hoarders of what belongs all. (15:4-11)

Our ancient Israelite ancestors saw themselves as members of a covenantal community bound to each other and their God through a shared history and a mutually binding covenant. Modern distinctions between “church and state” and “spiritual and secular”, had little meaning to them. Sovereignty rested in God. The covenant was the constitution. Paying one’s taxes, “tithes”, was more than a sign of good citizenship. It was a sacred obligation.

Therefore, Deuteronomy presents the institutional support of the poor as a holy act. Every three years, our ancestors were to dedicate the annual tithe to support the needs of the poor. The tithe was not sent to the central sanctuary, as it was the other two years, but was kept locally to support the needy. (14:28-29)

Despite the fact that our ancestors kept the poor tithe at home and did not send it to the central sanctuary where it would have been subject to the rules and regulations that preserved the purity of the temple, they considered the poor tithe to sanctified. Like the presentation of the First Fruits (26:1-11), the presentation of the poor tithe was accompanied by a confessional prayer (26:12-16). When they presented the tithe our ancestors described their donation as being “consecrated” and declared that they preserved its purity – they did not eat in while in mourning or in a state of impurity and did not give any of it as an offering to the dead.

Though the tithe was kept at home, it belonged to God to be used by members of God’s household, the poor. It had to be free of any other spiritual ties. The confession ended with the prayer that as our ancestors fulfilled their obligation by caring for God’s poor, God would look down from God’s heavenly abode and bless the land and people of Israel.

Care for those on the margins of society lies at the heart of our people’s covenantal tradition. While we are all encouraged as individuals to aid those in need, the fundamental obligation rests on the community. Our national success depends not on the generosity of our individual hearts, but by the success of our shared institutions. We deviate from the expectations of the covenant to the extent to which we tolerate the deprivations of the poor.

The exaltation of the individual in contemporary social and political thought challenges our Jewish sense of sacred community. While we, as Jews, have benefited greatly by modern concepts of the self-determination, human rights, our traditional commitments provide a needed counterweight to the exaltation of the individual self. As Jews, we understand that we, as individuals, can only experience holiness if we live in a community dedicated to the holy task of caring for all individuals – the rich and the poor, the lucky and the misfortunate, the successful and the failed, the blessed and the cursed. Providing for the fundamental needs of all in our community – food, clothing, shelter, security and health cannot be left to the kindness of individual. It is a sacred task of the covenanted community and a holy obligation on each of its members.

Nitzavim – Deuteronomy 29:9-30:20

STANDING BEFORE GOD TODAY

It is possible to look at the Book of Deuteronomy, the fifth and final book of the Torah, as our people’s first systematic collection of reflections on the meaning and significance of our Torah. Deuteronomy appears as Moses’ final speeches to the Israelites just before his death and their entrance into the promised land. In these speeches Moses reviews and interprets for the generation that came of age in the wilderness our people’s experiences over the past forty years — the exodus from Egypt, the revelation at Sinai and the challenges of life as a nomadic nation in the wilderness. He encourages them to remain loyal to the Covenant and obedient to its laws and customs, and he discusses with them the challenges to their faith and traditions that they will face as they cease their wandering and begin settled life in the Land of Israel.

The Book of Deuteronomy is, thus, the first Jewish attempt to answer the question of how are we, the Jewish people, going to be able to maintain and promote our religious heritage and cultural traditions in a new situation. Throughout our history as we, as a people, have wandered through the world and have faced changing political, economic and social conditions, we have come back to this issue time and time again. With courage and insight we have met the challenges and have built a resilient religious civilization.

Our success as a people grows out of our abiding commitment to our Covenant with God, our understanding that we are connected to all Jews over time and space because we share a common history and destiny grounded in the experience of our people at Sinai. The sense that the Sinai Covenant is a perpetual covenant, however, is first articulated not at Sinai but in the fields of Moab on the far side of the Jordan River as the Jews are preparing to enter the Land of Israel. There, in what appears to be part of a ceremonial renewal of the Sinai Covenant, Moses begins his third and final speech by informing the Jews of that time that the Covenant that they are reconfirming is not for them alone but also “with those who are not with us here today.” (Deuteronomy 29:14)

Moses’ speech makes it very clear that all Jews, everywhere, are part of the covenanted community of Israel. Membership in this covenant is not restricted to the leadership of our people, (the elders and officials) but is open to all — to men, women and children, to native-born Israelites and those who choose to dwell with us — irrespective of gender, status or class. (Deuteronomy 29:9-11) All Jews are responsible for renewing and promoting Jewish life within this covenantal context. We are as much a participant in the Covenant as were our ancestors who stood at Sinai.

Moses underscores this principle by reminding the Israelites of his day that they are entering into the Covenant as he is speaking to them. He informs them, “You stand this day, all of you, before the Lord your God.” (Deuteronomy 29:9) The Covenant between God and Israel is not an historical memory but a living reality for all Jews. Moses is not reminding the people about something that happened a generation ago at the foot of Mount Sinai. He is telling them that they enter into the Covenant whenever they open their hearts and minds to the wisdom of the Jewish people’s sacred heritage. When does this happen? It happens today, “this day,” not then but right now.

It is not coincidental that we read Moses’ third speech in next week’s Torah portion, the double portion, Nitzavim — Vayelekh, on the Shabbat prior to Rosh HaShanah. As we prepare to gather “all of us before the Lord, our God” to celebrate the New Year, Moses’ admonition to our ancestors has a powerful resonance. As we are preparing to cross the river of time into the New Year, we, like the Israelites of old, renew our dedication to our Covenant and commit ourselves to making its ideals a real, living part of our lives.

MEMORABLE WORDS

This Shabbat we read Parashat Nitzavim. We are near the end of the Book of Deuteronomy, Sefer Devarim. The literary setting places us with our ancestors, the ancient Israelites, camped on the far bank of the Jordan River across from Jericho at the end of the 40 years of wandering in the Wilderness. With them, we listen to the conclusion of Moses’ words of instruction and reflection to the people he has led for a generation before they depart for the Land of Promise and he departs to the future promised to all.

In this short Torah portion, which we read every year just before Rosh Hashanah, we review the basic themes of the Book of Deuteronomy – the importance of remaining loyal to God as our sovereign, our ability to live full Jewish lives, our responsibility for the choices we make, and the abiding nature of God’s love for us as individuals and as a community.

Now, just days away from the New Year, we, like our ancestors to whom Moses’ words were first addressed, are beginning a new adventure. They were about to start life again in a new land – unknown but full of promise – and we are about to start life again in a new year – likewise unknown but likewise full of promise. We share both challenges and blessings – the challenge to stay true to ourselves and our values – the blessing of having Torah – the inherited wisdom gained from our interactions with the human and divine.

As we read the Torah portion, a number of verses stand out.

[29:9] אַתֶּם נִצָּבִים הַיּוֹם כֻּלְּכֶם לִפְנֵי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵיכֶם רָאשֵׁיכֶם שִׁבְטֵיכֶם זִקְנֵיכֶם וְשֹׁטְרֵיכֶם כֹּל אִישׁ יִשְׂרָאֵל׃ [10] טַפְּכֶם נְשֵׁיכֶם וְגֵרְךָ אֲשֶׁר בְּקֶרֶב מַחֲנֶיךָ מֵחֹטֵב עֵצֶיךָ עַד שֹׁאֵב מֵימֶיךָ׃ [11] לְעָבְרְךָ בִּבְרִית יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ וּבְאָלָתוֹ אֲשֶׁר יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ כֹּרֵת עִמְּךָ הַיּוֹם׃

[Deut. 29:9] You stand this day, all of you, before the Eternal your God—your tribal heads, your elders and your officials, all the men of Israel, [10] your children, your wives, even the stranger within your camp, from woodchopper to water drawer— [11] to enter into the covenant of the Eternal your God, which the Eternal your God is concluding with you this day, with its sanctions;

Full participation in the life of the Jewish people is offered to all. Status, class, gender, age are irrelevant.

[30:13]וְלֹא אִתְּכֶם לְבַדְּכֶם אָנֹכִי כֹּרֵת אֶת־הַבְּרִית הַזֹּאת וְאֶת־הָאָלָה הַזֹּאת׃ [14] כִּי אֶת־אֲשֶׁר יֶשְׁנוֹ פֹּה עִמָּנוּ עֹמֵד הַיּוֹם לִפְנֵי יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ וְאֵת אֲשֶׁר אֵינֶנּוּ פֹּה עִמָּנוּ הַיּוֹם׃

[Deut. 30:13] I make this covenant, with its sanctions, not with you alone, [14] but both with those who are standing here with us this day before the LORD our God and with those who are not with us here this day

Each of us, whether or not we were present at Sinai or camped on the fields or Moab, can be part of the covenant which commits Jews to each other and to God.

[30:11] כִּי הַמִּצְוָה הַזֹּאת אֲשֶׁר אָנֹכִי מְצַוְּךָ הַיּוֹם לֹא־נִפְלֵאת הִוא מִמְּךָ וְלֹא רְחֹקָה הִוא׃ [12] לֹא בַשָּׁמַיִם הִוא לֵאמֹר מִי יַעֲלֶה־לָּנוּ הַשָּׁמַיְמָה וְיִקָּחֶהָ לָּנוּ וְיַשְׁמִעֵנוּ אֹתָהּ וְנַעֲשֶׂנָּה׃ [13] וְלֹא־מֵעֵבֶר לַיָּם הִוא לֵאמֹר מִי יַעֲבָר־לָנוּ אֶל־עֵבֶר הַיָּם וְיִקָּחֶהָ לָּנוּ וְיַשְׁמִעֵנוּ אֹתָהּ וְנַעֲשֶׂנָּה׃ [14] כִּי־קָרוֹב אֵלֶיךָ הַדָּבָר מְאֹד בְּפִיךָ וּבִלְבָבְךָ לַעֲשֹׂתוֹ׃ (ס)

[Deut. 30:11] Surely, this Instruction which I enjoin upon you this day is not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond reach. [12] It is not in the heavens, that you should say, “Who among us can go up to the heavens and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?” [13] Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, “Who among us can cross to the other side of the sea and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?” [14] No, the thing is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to observe it.

The responsibility to live out our lives according to our inherited value system is in our hands. It is not in heaven as if it were something that belongs to God or across the sea in the hands of a people distant from us culturally and geographically. It belongs to us and we are to cultivate it.

[30:19] הַעִידֹתִי בָכֶם הַיּוֹם אֶת־הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֶת־הָאָרֶץ הַחַיִּים וְהַמָּוֶת נָתַתִּי לְפָנֶיךָ הַבְּרָכָה וְהַקְּלָלָה וּבָחַרְתָּ בַּחַיִּים לְמַעַן תִּחְיֶה אַתָּה וְזַרְעֶךָ׃

II call heaven and earth to witness against you this day: I have put before you: life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life — if you and your offspring would live!

Through our engagement with the teachings and practices of the Jewish people, we have the opportunity to find meaning and purpose in our lives. It is our choice whether or not we engage with our people and our heritage. The life choices we make determine the quality of the life we live. And the choice is ours, so we need to choose carefully.

These words first addressed to our ancestors at the beginning of a new stage in their journey to an unknown and unknowable future, still ring true today as we prepare to enter into a New Year full of potential blessings and curses. The advice to cherish our past, uphold our values and choose wisely transcends time and space. It is not in heaven nor across the sea but in our hands and hearts.

L’Shanah Tovah!

Vayyelech – Deuteronomy 31:1-30

"YOU SHOULD LIVE TO BE 120"

Every Shabbat morning during services at the Jewish Geriatric Home, our residents, our volunteers, our guests and I pause to offer thanksgiving for the joyous events in our lives. There is always a simcha or two for us to celebrate — a birthday or an anniversary, a grandchild’s engagement, a great grandchild’s Bris — always a happy occurrence.

One Shabbat morning about a year ago, I announced that a well-loved resident was celebrating a milestone birthday in the coming week and I wished that she live to the proverbial age of 120 years. At that moment, a friend of hers raised her voice and corrected me. The friend said firmly, “No, Rabbi, you should wish her 120 years and three months.”

“Why the extra three months?” I replied, quite perplexed.

“Why the extra three months!?” the friend responded, sounding surprised at my ignorance. “Rabbi,” she declared, “Why should she spoil her last birthday? Don’t you want her to enjoy her party?”

So I wished our birthday celebrant the blessings of one hundred and twenty years and three months of life with happiness and health.

One hundred and twenty years is a long time to live. Only one or two people may have achieved such an age in modern times and some scientists believe that our physical bodies are unable to hold up much longer than that. What, then, is the source of the Jewish tradition of wishing a person 120 years of healthy and happiness?

One of the sources for this wish comes from this week’s Torah portion, Vayyelech. In it, Moses announces to the Jewish people that he has lived one hundred and twenty years and has come to the end of his life. As he approaches his death, he shares with them some of his insights into their future and warns them of the temptations that await them in the Land of Canaan. He reiterates his support of his chosen successor, Joshua, and exhorts him and the Israelites to be brave and strong as they continue their adventures in their new home. By praying that our elderly have the opportunity to reach Moses’ life span, we are reminding them that we cherish them as we cherish Moses. Even in old age, they, like Moses, remain our teachers, our leaders and our fountains of inspiration.

What is especially meaningful to me is the honesty with which Moses describes his condition as he approaches the end of his life. “I am one hundred and twenty years old,” Moses says, “and I can no longer come and go.” (Deuteronomy 31:2) Although there are other descriptions in the Torah of Moses’ physical condition in his extreme old age that portray him as much more lively (Deut. 34:7), here Moses refers directly to his impairments due to old age. As a person who spends so much of his time with our senior seniors in the Jewish Geriatric Home and in senior residences throughout the tri-county region, the image brought forth by Moses’ words sticks in my mind.

I think about the respect our ancestors showed Moses in his final days. I am humbled at the wisdom he shared with them as his life was coming to an end. I am astonished at the courage with which he faced his death. And I gain a deeper respect for the people I serve each time I consider this passage.

Like Moses, many of our most elderly are homebound. Only with great difficulty can they leave their homes, apartments and residence facilities. Many of them can barely move at all.

Although physically impaired, Moses was lucky. His mind was intact and he could still teach and instruct his people by his powerful words. Many of the elderly with whom I interact are not as fortunate as Moses. The ravages of disease and the gradual breakdown of the mind and body by whatever cause during old age have robbed them of their ability to share thoughts and ideas. Their intellectual agility has left them just as their physical strength has deserted them.

But the fact that a person’s ability to express herself verbally is impaired does not mean she cannot inspire and teach.

One does not need to be a Moses to transmit a powerful message.

Everyone has something to share — an experience, an insight, a memory, a feeling, an attitude to life, even a sense of being. If we don’t seem to get a person’s message, we should not assume that the person is not communicating with us. The problem may be with our receivers. We may need to tune our eyes, ears, hearts and minds to the person’s unique frequency.

Although it takes a while for children to learn to speak, no one doubts the ability of an infant to share happiness and love with those close. Doting parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles can hear a baby’s words even before the baby learns to pronounce them. We are not surprised at our ability to read our children’s hearts and comprehend their messages to us.

It is the same with our impaired elderly, who at the end of their long lives can neither come nor go. They, too, can share their message of love and hope with us if we would only try to listen.

We have the tools to help them along. Sometimes all we need to do is set the appropriate mood, perhaps by sharing an old memory. Pictures of familiar faces and places open their hearts and ours. At this time of the year, High Holy Day celebrations are important. The sights and sounds of the High Holy Days evoke powerful feelings and deep-seated longings and hopes. The aromas from the Holy Day kitchen or even a taste of honey cake can open up lines of communication with the elderly, enabling us to receive their blessings.

Even though our seniors may not be able to put forth an elaborate plan of living as Moses does for us in the Book of Deuteronomy, their message to us at the end of their days captures the essence of his words. They want us to be menschen, human beings full of love and concern for all those with whom we share our world, including them. They want us to cherish the traditions they have bequeathed to us. They want us to be good, to do good and receive the blessings of goodness.

Now as we enter the New Year with its promise of life renewed, I hear each and every one of them encouraging us to move forward in our life journey with the same words Moses used when he encouraged our ancestors to press forward into the Land of Promise. They join him in blessing us with the words chazak ve-ematz, “be strong and be brave.”