May 12th: Behar / Bechukotai
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
I do not see a lot of Christian bumper stickers up here, but, in the South, they are quite popular. Some proclaim a preference for Biblical translations: “If it ain’t the King James, it ain’t the Bible.” Others ask for theological affirmations from other drivers: “Honk if you love Jesus.” Some anticipate a miraculous end of days, “Warning: In case of rapture, this car will be unmanned.” Some present a kind of defense for less-than-exemplary co-religionists: “Christians aren’t perfect; they’re just forgiven.” This last one seems particularly necessary when religious scandals hit the news.
For every religious scandal, there are thousands of people in the pews shocked, disgusted, and truly embarrassed. Some are even left wondering about the validity of their religious path. While ostensibly putting their faith in God, they also develop a loyalty to God’s representatives. Whether God is worthy of their loyalty is a theological question, but whether their clergy or congregational officials are worthy of their trust is, unfortunately, sometimes a question for denominational tribunals or even the criminal justice system.
This was shown in an interesting irony in the fall from grace of televangelists Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker. Law enforcement had no role in judging their promises of heaven in exchange for donations to their lavish lifestyle. However, when they double-sold timeshare units at their Christian resort, they were hauled before the earthly justice system. Similarly, the grandiose theological claims of Jimmy Swaggart were believed by some and doubted by others. However, when he was arrested more than once for soliciting prostitution, thousands of his followers were left bereft and in danger of spiritual dismay. When religious leaders falter and sin, what does it say about the religion they preach?
(For a fascinating study of the interplay of religion and ego, see the recent film Honk for Jesus; Save Your Soul, starring Regina Hall and Sterling K. Brown. It is inaccurately billed as a mock-documentary comedy, but it is achingly serious. When people speak for God, how much is God, and how much is the ego of the preacher?)
Consider the plight of our Roman Catholic friends who have been battered over and over again in recent decades by the revelation of clergy sexual abuse. It has certainly rocked the institution of the Church, but what about the faith itself? One of my friends is a devoted Catholic, and she has described the intense pain she has felt at this betrayal by too many priests. However, she still believes that the Church has a valid message and presents a true path to God. The Church is her church. While it desperately needs to purge itself of the evil and irresponsibility of some of its leaders, she, like millions of other struggling parishioners, remains a faithful Catholic. The sins of some do not represent or negate the true faith.
Of course, we Jews are not immune from sins and indiscretions. We blanche every time a Jew’s sins make the news. From Baruch Goldstein to Ivan Boesky and Bernie Madoff and Aryeh Deri, we fervently hope that their shame will not have negative ramifications for the rest of Jewry. When one of us does well, we all feel pride. When one of us sins, we are all ashamed—and worried that it will be a shanda for the goyim (make us all look bad in front of the non-Jews). As the ancient Sages observe, “Israel is like a pile of nuts. If you take one from the pile, all of them collapse and roll onto one another.” (Midrash Rabba, Song of Songs 6.11)
Do bad members of a group necessarily mean that the group is bad—or that their aspirations are worthless? Those of us who disbelieve a particular message may feel a kind of satisfaction when its overbearing adherents are revealed to be less than perfect. However, to be fair, the messages of religion are often more aspirational than factual. They represent methods to human betterment—methods that are necessary because we humans are inevitably imperfect.
In the heat of debates over the comparative value of various religions or denominations, the imperfect members of that religion can be held up as examples of its inferiority. A bad priest means that Catholicism is wrong. A dishonest pastor means that Evangelical Christianity is wrong. A terrorist imam means that Islam is wrong. But what about us? Does a dishonest or murderous Jew mean that Judaism is wrong? There are those who take the sins of religionists as evidence of religion’s worthlessness—and, while we might smile inwardly when another religion comes off looking bad, how do we feel when it is our religion that is impugned by sin?
In our weekly Torah portion, we read about the ancient Sabbatical and Jubilee Years. Every seven years, the land was to lie fallow and have an agricultural Sabbath. Every fifty years, the real estate market was to have a kind of Sabbath: all deals made in the previous forty-nine years were to be cancelled, and the land was to revert back to the families assigned to it by God and Moses. There is evidence that the Sabbatical year was actually observed—with the land lying fallow and debts being cancelled. However, there is some scholarly doubt as to whether the Jubilee year was ever actually observed. If it were not an observed custom, why would such an injunction be preserved in the Torah? Perhaps, rather than a serious commandment, it represented a kind of aspirational ideal—one of the Biblical author’s hope for a return to the simplicity of old and purer ways.
In reading the Bible, it is necessary to distinguish between passages that are meant to be followed, and passages that represent idyllic visions. Will the lamb really lie down with the wolf? Will little children really play with poisonous snakes? (Isaiah 11.6-9) Will “the Mountain of the Lord’s House” really “be exalted above the hills—and the nations flow unto it and many peoples say, ‘Come ye, and let us go up to the Mountain of the Lord, to the House of the God of Jacob, where God will teach us holy ways so that we may walk in holy paths?’” (Isaiah 2.2-3 and Micah 4.1-2) Or are these aspirational and idyllic visions intended to inspire us to work with other religions and nations and bring blessings to the world?
We are all sinners—each and every one of us, regardless of our chosen faith. We are all subject to temptation, and we all succumb from time to time. Our failings are not due to the inadequacies of our religions but rather to our own weakness, selfishness, short-sightedness, and self-pity. Too often, we misuse our religions in the pursuit of sin. It is deplorable and, yet we should not lose sight of the aspirational possibilities of religion. We can be called from On High. We can be inspired to righteousness and holy behavior. We can respond and improve and become better children of the Most High.
Perfect? No. Forgiven? Maybe. Improvable? Absolutely.