October 2nd: Sukkot
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
The following is Rabbi Ostrich’s Erev Rosh Hashanah d’var Torah:
In Leviticus 19, God gives us a rather curious instruction:
“You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy.”
Whatever it means to be holy, God is, and God wants us to be holy, too.
We can go into a whole philological and spiritual discussion about the meaning of the Hebrew word, / קָדוֹשׁ kadosh/holy, and it can be a fascinating and inspiring exploration. However, for our purposes right now, let us just focus on the fact that God wants us to be like God.
“You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy.”
This notion that humans should strive to be godly is ancient and has been a quest for many religious seekers in most all traditions. One of my favorite terms comes from the ancient Greek and Roman philosophers who spoke of humans being imitatio deo, imitating or resembling the qualities of God.
I think that most of us would agree that this is a noble goal, but, when we look around us at the world, we see so much that is ungodly. While God commands us to pursue justice and righteousness, all too often, we see unfairness, oppression, and evil. What does God do when facing the imperfection of the world? Perhaps this can be an avenue for us; perhaps we can model God’s behavior.
The Tradition is full of examples of God’s attitudes and behavior, and a few in particular come to mind. The first one comes from Exodus 3 and is the story of Moses and the Burning Bush. Moses is tending his father-in-law’s flock in the wilderness and comes upon a miraculous sight. A bush is burning but is not being consumed. From this Burning Bush, God addresses Moses and tells him that the period of Israelite slavery in Egypt is coming to an end. God has heard the cries of the Hebrews and is coming to rescue them. Moses will be God’s prophet and will pursue God’s strategy and plans for the Exodus. At this point, the Midrash enhances the story. Moses listens to God, thinks for a minute, and objects: “O Lord, the plan you are describing—with me going before Pharaoh many times and each of the Ten Plagues—will take about a year. What about all the suffering of the Israelites during that year? What about those Israelites who will die in the coming year and will never see Redemption? Can you not free the Israelites at this instant?!” At this bold questioning of the Divine Plan, God has two reactions. God’s right hand of justice and judgment lashes out instinctively to destroy Moses, but God’s left hand of compassion and understanding stops the right hand. Yes, it is a problem that Moses is questioning the Divine Will, but Moses is not doing it out of impudence or disrespect; Moses is doing so out of compassion for the Israelites. Ultimately, God goes with compassion instead of judgment.
A second Midrash involves the prayers that God recites. Yes, the Midrash imagines God davvening just like us. This discussion revolves around a verse from Isaiah (56.7) that reads,"I will bring them to My holy mountain, and make them joyful in the house of My prayer.” Since the verse says, “house of My prayer,”—as opposed to “the house of their prayer,” the Rabbis believe that God has a synagogue in which the Holy One prays. For what does God pray? As the Rabbis explain, God prays for kindness. “May My mercy overcome My judgment.” God is very aware of truth and judgment, but God is also inclined toward mercy, compassion, and understanding. According to this Midrash, God prays and strives mightily to be inclined toward compassion.
These and other ancient texts lead a modern thinker, Dr. Yehuda Kurtzer of the Shalom Hartman Institute, to propose the following understanding of the Rabbinic mindset. “For the Rabbis, the antidote for injustice is not a passion for justice. Rather, it is a passion for lovingkindness.”
Let me repeat that: “For the Rabbis, the antidote for injustice is not a passion for justice. Rather, it is a passion for lovingkindness.”
To some, this may seem counterintuitive. How can a passion for justice be wrong? How can the goal of justice not be won by the passionate pursuit of justice? And yet, sometimes the passion for justice can easily lead to such a focus on truth and judgment that compassion for and understanding of the human condition are forgotten. This is not to discount truth but to try to understand the factors which lead some children of God to behave in ungodly ways.
One can also look at Dr. Kurtzer’s insight from a rhetorical perspective. If one wants to overcome injustice, how are the perpetrators of injustice best persuaded to become righteous? By instilling in them a passion for lovingkindness.
Though we believe in rights—as in our rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, the rights approach often pits one citizen’s rights against another’s. It is a conflictual way to analyze human behavior—one that generally creates a winner and a loser. Most of the losers are not very happy. One almost never hears a loser say, “I was wrong, and my opponent was right.” Losers are forced into acquiescence, nurse their wounds, and often plot their revenge. Whether at the ballot box or in legal proceedings or in other more nefarious ways, the rights approach does not settle conflicts permanently. It merely engenders a sense of being wronged and the necessity of more conflict.
How would compassion—as an alternative antidote to unrighteousness—work? Consider these scriptural possibilities.
In the story of Abraham’s two wives, Sarah and Hagar, there is a problem, and Sarah wants Hagar cast out. Abraham does not know what to do, and, to Abraham’s surprise, God tells him to listen to Sarah. However, God does not abandon Hagar or Ishmael, and neither does Abraham. Abraham makes arrangements for Hagar to live just a few miles away in Gerar where his friend Abimelech is king. Hagar and Ishmael are thus close to Beersheba, and Abraham continues to have contact with them. God blesses Ishmael, too, with stature and power and wealth. God and Abraham have compassion upon Hagar and Ishmael, and their lovingkindness avoids or overcomes the conflict.
Another example comes in a Midrash on Exodus 24 where we read about a post-covenant ritual with the Israelite leadership. Coming after the Ten Commandments and after the chapters of additional laws for a just and equitable society, Moses and Aaron, Nadab and Abihu, and seventy elders of Israel go up on Mount Sinai. Then the text then gets remarkably anthropomorphic: “They saw the God of Israel and under His feet was a pavement of sapphire stones with an appearance as clear as the sky.” (Deuteronomy 25.10) They eat a sacrificial meal and drink in honor of God. This celebratory banquet to conclude the covenant is curious but understandable. However, what is with this this pavement of sapphire stones? An ancient Sage explains as follows. This pavement is what God constructed when God was enslaved along with Israel in Egypt. The Israelites built the store cities of Pithom and Raamses; God built this very beautiful road; but they were all in slavery together.
This is exceedingly difficult to imagine—that the Lord God of the Universe would be enslaved, until one considers the love of a parent for his/her children. When children hurt, their parents hurt. When a child is in pain or being picked on, the parent hurts. God, this ancient Midrash teaches us, is so invested in humanity that, when humans are enslaved and oppressed, God is enslaved and oppressed as well.
This notion is found in other religions, as well. For example, in the Christian Bible, in Matthew 24 (v.40), Jesus makes the same point. Speaking for God, Jesus says, “Whatsoever you do unto these, the least of my brethren, so you do unto Me.”
What you have in these passages is an attempt to develop a sense of empathy is those whose behavior is unjust. It is not a matter of power or even of rights—for various systems assign “rights” that oppress others. Rather, this sensibility encourages us to see the oppressed as ourselves—as worthy of our concern, respect, and love.
While there are wars where the idea is to kill one’s opponents, our social justice issues are not wars. Our goal is not to kill those who oppose civil rights or economic justice. Our goal is to convince them that they can be compassionate and just and not sacrifice their own viability and security. Our goal is to convert them to understanding and empathy.
This is certainly the way it is with God. As we are reminded on both Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, “O Lord, this is Your glory: You are slow to anger, ready to forgive. It is not the death of sinners You seek, but that they should turn from their ways and live. (Ezikiel 18.23) Until the last day You wait for them, welcoming them as soon as they turn to You.”
Think about this as you pursue our goals. Is the antidote for injustice a passion for justice, or is a better, more godly path developing a universal passion for lovingkindness?