Nitzavim
- Deuteronomy 29:9 - 30:20
Yom Kippur - 5763
One
of the things I love most about Torah study is that because it's supposed
to be a life work, by necessity we end up going deeper and deeper, wandering
around and drawing connections as it strikes our fancy. This has saved
me many times when I've come across parts of Torah that have left me
angry, frustrated or even unmoved.
Today we read Nitzavim, which means "You Are Standing",
and for that alone it's an appropriate choice for Yom Kippur. It's also
an interesting candidate for layered study, because as each layer is
peeled back, we're tempted to stop. We hear and read the words and they
make the usual scary Yom Kippur sense. We may not like them,
but they fulfill our stereotypes about the judgement stuff we remember
from our childhood. This portion says do these good things and things
will be good - do these bad things and things will be bad - sounds like
Yom Kippur to me. Unlike the complex connection of the Akedah
to Rosh Hashanah, these injunctions to us may be sufficient unto
themselves. But - maybe not.
We're in the Book of Deuteronomy, the last book of Torah. Moses is giving
his final discourse to the people. He's soon to die. He begins this
portion in an unusual way, which in Torah is almost always an indication
that something important is coming up. He specifically lists all the
groups before him and the list is inclusive. He mentions women, children,
slaves, and even the strangers in our midst. There's no ducking for
cover. He even says he's speaking to all those yet to come. That's us.
We're all in this together.
At first glance, this portion is part of Moses' brilliant and unmatched
teachings to the people, reminding us of everything we've been through.
He reminds us of our redemption from Egypt and the incredible gift of
Torah that was given at Sinai. We are to always remember that we struck
a deal with God - and the deal must be kept or else horrendous consequences
will follow. Now, this is the Yom Kippur God that scared me as
a kid.
However, something happened on the way to my acceptance of this surface
reading. Several years ago I studied briefly with Richard Elliot Friedman
right after his Commentary on the Torah was published. He discussed
the parallel imagery and language choices between Genesis and Deuteronomy,
the first and last books of Torah, and I thought about his work a lot
as I was preparing for today.
On Rosh Hashanah we read two very different Torah portions from
the Book of Genesis: The Creation and the Akedah. These portions
do have one thing in common though, they have a lot to do with symbolic
parent -child issues. The Creation reflects the ultimate parent, God,
and the first big birth process. The Akedah, or binding of Isaac,
covers a far more complex parenting issue. Both, however, represent
an extremely intimate and active God presence. The Genesis God is a
God that tests up close and personal. The Genesis God is a God you could
write great stories about - and many people have. The God of Deuteronomy,
however, has been distanced and threatens to step back even further.
In Nitzavim, Moses, in loco parentis, acting as our parent, is
giving us the Last Big Talk. We are being sent out on our own - not
just off to college - but kicked out of the house and into our first
fixer-upper across the Jordan. Not only that but Moses isn't coming
with us to pay the bills or get the groceries. He is, however, leaving
us with the ultimate Ethical Will, Torah.
We are being left with something else, too: God's love. This is something
that the German-Jewish theologian Franz Rosenzweig laments we have rejected
in our drive to modernity but is at the core of Jewish teaching. It
is something that we, as Jews, too often ignore when we look at this
portion, look at our liturgy, or even look at the whole Torah. I know
this is a hard concept for us. We deny it because it sounds too human,
and if I may say so, too Christian. But we need to understand that the
concept of God's love is a profoundly Jewish idea, which we somehow
have abandoned in our great search for the rational. This portion rings
with love if we can see it.
I can't deny that there are also terrible curses here if we fail to
keep our side of the contract. These were violent people in a violent
time. However, the blessings if we succeed so far outweigh the curses
as to tip the scales eternally in our favor - because God, however we
choose to define that power, will allow us eternal second chances. Moses
reassures us that God loves us that much. God declares to us that we
just have to return with all our heart and soul - no matter what we've
done - no matter how far we've strayed - and God will return to love
us, to save us, to enrich us, to meet us, once again.
And frankly, as an adult that's the kind of parent-God I'm ready for
- one that treats me as if I have a mind of my own - and a soul of my
own to look out for... but keeps a light on - in case I need to stop
by...
To return....
We are told again and again that there is a heavenly court in place
today - but I don't think it's in the heavens, no matter the majesty
of the image. I think the court is within each of our hearts - we know
that the work is ours to do and that to fulfill the commandment of teshuvah
- we have to reject evil and grasp the good... we have to reject violence
to find peace... we have to reject idolatry and all its trappings to
turn to God, and all that means.. If this was still Eden, and we had
no free will, how incredibly boring it would be.
Blessings and curses - they echo in our individual hearts - they are
the balancing scales of our individual lives. We all know that... that's
why we're here... This portion just lays that out in absolutes.
I think that's what Nitzavim is about for me - at least this
year.
©Barbara
Carr
Congregation Dor Hadash
Yom Kippur 5763
Nitzavim
