Walk Through the Parsha by Rabbi David Walk

Hope
B’chukotai 5768
May 20, 2008
Many rabbis conclude sermons, lectures or classes with the formula: May it be God’s will, that Moshiach comes speedily in our day. I never do that. As a matter of fact I never mention Moshiach unless that’s the topic that I’m discussing. I’m sure the Anointed One will be very nice, and I’ll be happy that he’s around, but I can’t dwell on his eventual arrival, because it’s not something over which I have any control. I don’t know the circumstances under which Moshiach will arrive, so it’s not all that interesting to me. Take rain.  We say in Shma everyday that when we listen to God and do mitzvoth we get rain. Okay, I can handle that. But nowhere in the Torah (or connected to any mitzvah performance) does it say anything about the coming of Moshiach, and the Rabbinic material is so unclear as to be undecipherable. In tractate Sotah (49a) it says that in the period preceding Moshiach there will be a lot of Chutzpah. Should I go around being arrogant (Please, no snide comments.)? It says that the face of the generation will be like the face of a dog. Should I stand in front of a mirror and practice dog expressions or bark? Ever time we tried to bring Moshiach things just got worse (consider Bar Kochba, d. 135 CE, or Shabtai Zvi, 1626-1676). So, I leave the Moshiach business to God, and try to concentrate on things within my power.

As a matter of fact this week’s Torah reading gives us two scenarios meant to give us ultimate hope, and there’s nary a mention of Moshiach. The beginning of our parsha is referred to as the blessings and gives a rosy picture of paradise on earth. The salient features of this Garden of Eden are: precipitation, prosperity, progeny and peace. Oh, and the spiritual element of feeling God in our midst. This is the great hope. That we will live in our land in tranquility, and sense the presence of God. The prophets (especially Isaiah) added the image of a return to the Davidic dynasty (That’s the Moshiach thing.). It is this vision which has sustained us throughout our millennia of exile. Our traditional prayers often beseech God for a return to Jerusalem and the rebuilding of the Holy Temple. Neither people nor nations can live without hope, and our hope has been national renewal.

Okay, this idea has kept us going even during the long centuries far from Israel, but there is a second promise which gave us hope even in the throes of a nightmare. The second section of our parsha, called the Tochacha or curses (perhaps, rebuke), describes the terrible punishments which will befall us when we don’t maintain our loyalty to God, when we reject the covenant. This section of apparitions is right out of Hieronymus Bosch: death, disease, desolation, and desperation.  Nu, so where’s the beef (sorry, I mean the hope)? At the end of the section there is the enewal of the promise, “and I will remember My covenant of Jacob, and also My covenant of Isaac, and also My covenant of Abraham I will remember. And I will remember the Land (Leviticus 26:42).” So, even in the
darkest hour, this glimmer of redemption remains.

The Netziv (Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin, 1817-1893), the last head of the great
yeshiva in Volozhin, made an interesting observation about the infidelity of the Jews which initiates the curses. He asks, “What were the Jews thinking to abandon God and worship idols?" Then he explains that the Jews made a philosophical error. They believed that by abandoning God that they would no longer be connected to the Torah, neither its obligation nor its repercussions. Once divorced from the covenant, they believed themselves to be free from any punishment for their perfidy. Let’s be honest. It’s hard being Jewish. Many Jews throughout the ages have wanted to remove the yoke and exchange it for local custom. However, according to the Netziv, the major message of the Tochacha is that this is impossible. Once within God’s embrace, always enveloped by God’s attention. The Nazis confirmed this concept to many who were not technically Jewish, and surprising many who thought of themselves as far from their Jewish roots. Our Jewishness is inescapable. And this also can give us hope. The bonds connecting us to God are eternal, even if sometimes stretched thin.

There is another source of hope in the verse about God remembering the covenant with Ya’akov, Yitzchak and Avraham. Initially, when you parse the verse, there seems to be a couple of problems. First of all, isn’t that all one covenant, nor separate deals for each Patriarch?  And, how come the Patriarchs are in reverse chronological order? I believe that the resolution of these two
problems is very uplifting. Each of the forefathers was very different. They each interacted with God in their own unique ways, but they were all equally valid. Don’t let any supposed religious authority brow beat you into believing that there is only path to God. Each of us must blaze our own trail to the Deity. And the reason that the Patriarchs are out of order is to remind us that each was equally
important. The preferred method for approaching God is the one which best suits your character, your preprogrammed soul. We can follow the Avraham course of
charisma, the Yitzchak path of prayer or the Ya’akov trail of travail. It makes little difference as long as the result is a closer connection with God.

According to the English philosopher of religion, John Peter Berger (born 1926), “The propensity to hope in the face of suffering and death is the greatest example
of the transcendent within man.” There’s a recording by BBC radio from May 29, 1945, the first Friday night after Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp had been liberated, of the former inmates singing HaTikvah (The Hope). One would have to be a rock not to cry when listening, and it proves the point of the verse that there can be hope even in Hell.