Parashat Vaetchanan – Gainesville
Some years ago, a colleague of Stella’s did something totally human: she tripped at her front door. When she came to the Orthodox Jewish day school she was teaching at, the rabbis asked her what happened and in a flash they came to her house to inspect….not the bottom of the door, but rather the mezuzah. They removed the mezuzah from the doorpost and inspected it and determined that it was no longer kosher as it was older and beginning to crack. Naturally, they replaced it. And, having proclaimed that the mezuzah was now kosher, they concluded that the house was protected from all ill fortune.
Where did they get this idea that strikes the modern ear as superstitious at best and pagan at worst!? Simply from the Torah that commanded that we keep the thought of God’s presence on the doorposts of our house and as we walk on our way, when we lie down and when we rise up. You recognized that. It is part of the V’ahavata. So the rabbis made a logical jump: if God commanded that every Jew put up a mezuzah on their doorpost and something bad happens in the house, it is the homeowner’s fault because the mezuzah isn’t kosher and, because the mezuzah isn’t kosher, the homeowner did not keep the commandment that was found in the Torah!
Frankly, when I heard this my initial reaction was simply, ‘Gevalt.’ But I fully understood where the mezuzah patrol was coming from. By adhering to the letter of the law, they focussed everything on the inanimate mezuzah at the front door and, at the same time, hardly gave any thought to the person who just broke her ankle! It is the intentional blindness and overwhelming fear of getting God angry.
I don’t believe God gets angry at cracked mezuzahs. Nor do i think God punishes people because of the sins that others think they committed. Nor do I believe that purpose of the Law is terrify people into behaving properly. That’s not Torah- that’s abuse of religion.
But where does this idea come from? Well, it comes from this week’s Torah portion that says, “Be very vigilant to keep the commandments of the Lord your God, and the testimonies and decrees with which He has charged you. Do what is right and what is good in the Lord’s eyes, so that it may go well with you, and you may go in and take possession of the good land that the Lord swore to your ancestors to give you.“ Deut. 6:17-18
Most people simply read the first part of the commandment. ‘Be very vigilant’ and yet too often they ignore the second part of the verse: ‘do what is right and good in the Lord’s eyes so that it may go well with you.’ Checking the mezuzah is being vigilant. Blaming an innocent person for tripping at the front door is anything but ‘doing right and what is good.’
And this is where our difficulty lies with this verse. How do we adhere to commandments without becoming either dictatorial to ourselves or to others? In other words, isn’t putting up a kosher mezuzah enough? Why do I have to bother if someone broke their ankle? That’s not in the Torah!
The classical commentator Rashi says that the ‘do good and right in the Lord’s eyes’ is teaching us something important. It is teaching us that the Torah is not about adherence to the Law without regard to the person sitting beside you. He says, “The law, as it were, lays down a minimum threshold: this we must do. Yes, put up a mezuzah. Of course. But putting up the mezuzah isn’t in and of itself a moral issue. In fact, it is morally neutral. But the moral life aspires to more than simply doing what we must. Mose people are not impressed by others who simply follow the Law to the exclusion of everyone and everything else. Case in point: back in New Jersey is an Orthodox community where the men study all day and the women collect food stamps since they aren’t allowed to work. True, the men are fulfilling the mitzvah to study but it raises the question, at what cost to their families and to society as a whole? The same is true for the hareidim – the yeshiva boys – in Israel who, with many exceptions – refuse to serve in the Army. They have no problem having others defend the country just as long as they can study. As you can imagine, the resentment is palpable.
Indeed, the people who most impress us with their goodness and rightness are not merely people who keep the law. A Jewish tzaddik is not just learned. She is good and decent, moral and principled. These are the people who do more than they are commanded. They go the extra mile. That, according to Rashi, is what the Torah means by “the right and the good.”
The Torah includes this verse to teach us something profoundly important. The Law is vital and it is our foundation. But a foundation for what? Simply this: the Law is a foundation for the way we live our principled lives, walking humbly and giving space to others.
The Torah lays out great principles of behaviour but human beings are far too complex and their relationships far too complicated to be boiled down to a simple commandment. There are times we need to compromise with others and give the other the space they need. Our morality is not confined to the Law. So much of doing right is what we know is right in our kishkes.
The Torah doesn’t teach us how to be good spouses in all circumstances. Nor does it teach us how to be good teachers in all situations. Nor does it teach us how to be a good neighbour. That is the later job for our Sages and when you look at what our Sages teach, you soon realize that they are all going beyond the letter of the law. They are teaching and inspiring on the ground holiness.
The perfect illustration is found in the Talmud in the story of Hillel and Shammai and the Roman who wanted to convert to Judaism. Now, before I tell you the story in case you don’t know it, Shammai was a strict literalist and had no time for ambiguity and the subtleties and idiosyncrasies of people. Hillel, on the other hand, opened his home and his heart and his mind to all who sought him at. And so this Roman approached each sage with the same request: ‘Teach me the entire Torah while standing on one foot’!! Shammai had a ruler in his hand, obviously a symbol and metaphor for the way he saw and taught Jewish life. He shooed the Romanj way with anger. Hillel, though, responded differently. He said, “That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow. That is the whole Torah; the rest is commentary. Go and learn it.”
As a modern scholar once taught, “Law is about universals, principles that apply in all places and times: Do not murder. Do not rob. Do not steal. Do not lie. Yet there are important features of the moral life that are not universal at all. They have to do with specific circumstances and the way we respond to them. What is it to be a good husband or wife, a good parent, a good teacher, a good friend? What is it to be a great leader, or follower, or member of a team? When is it right to praise, and when is it appropriate to say, “You could have done better”? There are aspects of the moral life that cannot be reduced to rules of conduct, because what matters is not only what we do, but the way in which we do it: with humility or gentleness or sensitivity or tact.”
Looked at a bit differently, morality is about how we work together with other people and since no two people are alike no interaction is universal. Even Moses knew this. In the book of Numbers, Moses knows he is going to die and he asks God something in the following way: “Let the Lord, Source of the breath of all flesh, appoint someone over the community.” Strange way of phrasing it. Why say ‘source of breath of all flesh”? Why not just say ‘Source of all life” or something similar? The Rabbis answer that question
That is what Moses was really saying was that each person is different, so he asked God to appoint a leader who would relate to each individual as an individual, knowing that what is helpful to one person may be harmful to another. This ability to judge the right response to the right person at the right time is a feature not only of leadership, but of human goodness in general.
Ours is a faith of both justice and love. Justice is universal. It treats all people alike, rich and poor, powerful and powerless, making no distinctions on the basis of colour or class or gender identity. But love is particular. A parent loves their children for what makes them each unique. The moral life is a combination of both.
And who do you lovingly remember all the days of your life? It is quite likely the friend who was there in moments of trial or the teacher who was there with the right encouragement or the parent who was there in love and challenging times. These are the moments of morality and doing right. These are the moments when we felt understood in our uniqueness. These are the moments when we were seen as people, not as tools to fulfill a commandment.
And we see it tonight in this beautiful sanctuary. And what is it that we see? A Shabbat where we gather in joy in community dedicated to the idea that being here has a value but not a price. Shabbat is our day to celebrate relationships, to wish each other a peaceful Shabbat or to be with someone who mourns. We study Torah together, reminding ourselves of the story of which we are a part. We pray together, thanking God for our blessings. Observing our Shabbat in our own way is our way of connecting to each other and God. Keeping the Shabbat is the commandment. Celebrating the Shabbat with those we love is an expression of our soul and can not be commanded.
Let us affirm the goodness that lies in each of us and listen to the still, small voice. That is the voice of our God who is constantly reminding us that respect and honor and joy go hand in hand with fulfilling mitzvot and one without the other is a life half-lived. Shabbat Shalom
