VA’ETCHANAN
Va’etchanan, “And I implored” (3:23-7:11) begins with Moses repeating his request to cross over to the Promised Land and YHVH denying his request. We then turn towards the laws and judgments that YHVH has had Moses teach the people with a command to not deviate from them and the offering of two arguments for following them. One reason to follow them is how good the Israelites will look in the eyes of other nations. The other argument is that if they don’t follow them, they will be destroyed, exiled from the land and a small remnant will be scattered amongst the nations (4:26-27). This, of course, is exactly what happened to our ancestors. This parsha, probably written before the Babylonian exile but when the weakness of the Israelites was obvious, provides an explanatory thesis for why Israel was conquered. Chapter 4 also brings back the experience at Sinai as a means of reinforcing the message being presented; it isn’t about how mind blowing it was to experience the divine, but how much they had better make sure that they and their descendants follow what YHVH has laid out for them.
Chapter 5 offers us a second version of the ten commandments. Chapter 6 offers us what is recited daily in Jewish shuls throughout the world—the Sh’ma and the V’ahavta. We’ll discuss these below. They are not, it should be noted, presented as liturgy or with any demand to be recited at all. The parsha concludes with YHVH’s promise to destroy the more powerful indigenous inhabitants of Canaan, and the repetition of his demand to make no covenants with them, to not intermarry with them and demolish their altars, their pillars, their Asherahs (Goddess representations) and their statues. (7:2-5). We are to observe YHVH’s commandments to the thousandth generation.
I want to discuss four themes, amongst many possible ones in this rich parsha.
Moses and his attitude towards not being permitted to enter the Promised Land
The question of how exactly to follow the commandments
The question of monolatry compared to monotheism
The protective nature of the V’ahavta
Moses is not permitted to enter the Promised Land as a punishment by YHVH for the incident where he struck the rock to bring forth water. (Numbers 20:2-13). But that’s not how Moses sees it. Continuing a theme from last week’s parsha, Moses says “But YHVH was cross at me for your sakes (italics mine) and he would not listen to me” (3:26) imploring YHVH to let him into the Promised Land. Instead YHVH says enough. “You have much. Don’t go on speaking to me anymore of this thing.” (3:26)
I have mixed feelings here. On the one hand, I have from childhood never thought that the punishment fit the crime—after everything Moses has done to shepherd his ungrateful charges, to not be able to enter the Promised Land because he got angry? Really? On the other hand, what we don’t see here is Moses accepting responsibility. Would the result have been different if Moses had acknowledged his sin and begged to enter the Promised Land? Could this be the request? “Look, I know that I sinned against you in striking the rock with my staff in anger to bring forth water from the rock. I was vexed with the people, as you have been countless times. I acknowledge my sin, and still implore you to let me enter the Promised Land, just to set my foot on the land that has been my life’s goal.” But that’s not our text.
Learning to take responsibility is absolutely essential in the maturation process. If you can’t take responsibility for when you miss the mark, then you might look like an adult, but you won’t fulfill the adult functions that the world needs. Taking responsibility is also absolutely essential in our relationship with the more than human world. If we do not wish to commit species suicide, we need to learn to take responsibility for the mess that we have created in the more than human world and then clean it up so that all beings as much as possible, including humans, may thrive.
How do you think Moses should respond to being denied entrance to the Promised Land? Are there things in your life for which you have been punished or felt punished for which you are neither accepting responsibility nor pushing back? How can you start to take your share of responsibility for the mess humanity has made of the more than human world? What’s one action you can take, no matter how small, to repair the more than human world?
“You shall not add onto the thing that I [YHVH] command you, and you shall not subtract from it: observing the commandments of YHVH your God that I command you.” (4:2). This is a really interesting idea. On the one hand, it can be read in a fundamentalist way, that is you have to follow exactly what is laid out for you in these five books, and ONLY what is laid out here, that the commandments given at this point are the only commandments you need. This would be a characteristically fundamentalist way of reading Torah, but it isn’t at all what our tradition teaches. Our Rabbis came up with the idea of Oral Torah, of continued revelation through their discussions, precisely because they realized that the teachings in the five books of Moses could not answer every question that might arise.
This commandment also speaks to the question of balance and fanaticism in religious practice in Jewish history. The Baal Shem Tov had a disciple, R. Yaakov Yosef of Polnoye who was an ascetic, eating as little as possible, sleeping as little as possible, all to eradicate his sins. The Baal Shem Tov’s brilliant teaching to him was that he was, in effect, adding too much to what YHVH had commanded by going way above and beyond the prescribed ways of repentance. It’s not like we haven’t had our fill of fanatics in our history. If we look at any kind of fundamentalist practice, including Judaism, but equally true of other religions, there’s a tendency towards more fanaticism, as if your level of fanaticism testifies to your commitment level.
Many of us, on the other hand and certainly including me, are probably not doing enough Jewishly. We are, as it were, “subtracting” from what we should do. If you aren’t a Jew committed to following the law, it’s really ambiguous about what is the right amount. We recently had a minor fast day the 17nth of Tammuz and I did not fast. Tisha B’av, another fast day will occur before I teach this parsha, and I probably won’t fast then either. Am I subtracting from what I should do?
This teaching may be construed as a teaching of balance.
I find the idea of balance in our relationship to the more than human world to be incredibly elusive. Is it enough to eat 20% locally, 50% locally, 70% locally? No idea. Is it enough to grow lettuce, cukes, tomatoes and peppers, or does it only count if you also grow summer and winter squash as well? Not a clue. Are you in balance if you recycle everything you can, or is the quantity of recycling inherently a statement of being out of balance because there are just too many boxes?
Where are you out of balance in your Jewish or other spiritual practice? Where are you out of balance in your relationship with the more than human world? What would balance look like both for spiritual practice and in relationship to the more than human world?
Devarim and the whole of the 5 books are advocating what scholars call monolatry, rather than monotheism. Monolatry is the worship of one God, monotheism is the belief that there is only one God. Here in our parsha, there is no denial of the existence of other Gods, just a demand to worship only YHVH. For instance, in 3:24 Moses pleads to YHVH and says “You, whose powerful deeds no god in heaven or earth can equal.” This implies that there are other Gods. Also 5:7 “you shall have no other Gods beside me” clearly implies other Gods. Equally, “You shall not go after gods, from the gods of the people who are around you.” (6:14). Of course, we tend to read these passages through monotheistic eyes, but it simply seems compelling and intellectually honest to say that our Hebrew ancestors clearly believed in the existence of other Gods. They even worshipped them, as any reading of the book of Kings will attest, based on all the condemnations of the rulers who didn’t worship YHVH alone. Of the more than 40 Kings mentioned in the two books of Kings, only three met with approval by the authors, and the rest of them participated or tolerated the worship of other Gods.
I raise this here because the Sh’ma, which is part of this parsha, is often considered to be the quintessential statement of monotheism. The typical translation is “Hear O Israel, The Lord is our God, the Lord is one.” This is a monothesistic rendering. Yet JPS translates it as “Hear O Israel, YHVH is our God, YHVH alone” (6:4). This translation makes this verse an advocate for monolatry, not monotheism. I recently read an attack on this translation in Friedman’s book on the Exodus, which was based both on textual evidence and his belief in the earliness of monotheism. I walked away persuaded of the traditional translation, but not of his claim that we should read these texts as advocating for monotheism, rather than monolatry.
Why is this a big deal? We no longer live in a world where there are multiple Gods and we have to choose, in some way, what we will observe and what we will not. But I think that many of us have profound troubles with the monotheism we were taught of a supreme, omnipotent deity. We have thus fled our heritage for the more comfortable realms of Buddhist, Hindu, Native American, New Age etc thought where there is not one and only one omnipotent deity.
I also think that if we are gong to center the more than human world in our spirituality, we need a way to conceive of that centrality and how to reconcile the centrality of YHVH in our heritage with that desire. This isn’t a class in developing a Jewish theology, but I absolutely think that one legitimate approach is for us is to reclaim the Gods and Goddesses that our ancestors worshipped in addition to YHVH. These Gods and Goddesses had deep connections with the more than human world such as thunder and fertility. We could reject the monolatry that is the ideology of our text while still being true to our ancestral heritage.
I note that reclaiming these other deities that our ancestors worshipped is something that not all of us would be interested in. It is also a large project filled with ambiguity.
How do you think about monolatry vs monotheism? How do you think about centering YHVH compared to centering the more than human world in your spiritual thinking and action? Does the possible worship of deities such as Asherah open up any possibilities for you?
The last part of the first paragraph of the V’ahavta offers us some really important protection magic. “And you shall bind them for a sign on your hand, and they shall become bands between your eyes. And you shall write them on the doorposts of your house and in your gates.” (6:8-9). These verses are the basis of the practice of wearing t’fillin which include these verses and date from as early as the second century BCE. There are also silver amulets with text on them dating to the seventh century BCE. Lastly, this is the text found inside a Mezuzah.
There was a debate in ancient Israel about whether this should be taken literally or metaphorically (following the JPS commentary). Clearly, our tradition has adopted both a metaphoric understanding of the importance of consciousness of the divine, and a literal interpretation that we should do certain physical things to reinforce this consciousness.
Why should we wear Torah verses and place them in the in between places of the doorposts of our houses and our gates? One possible interpretation is simply to keep these commandments of YHVH in constant awareness, akin to the phrase from the psalms “Shiviti YHVH l’negdi tamid, I keep YHVH in front of me always.” I think this view is both true and not complete.
Doors and gates are transition spaces where we go from the private space of a house to the public space of the street, or the street to a house or business, or from inside to city to outside of a city, or vice versa. Transitions are inherently fraught with the possibility of danger. Change isn’t easy. I think we numb ourselves to these changes and we live lives of lots of change in our fast paced world. But our ancestors were onto something. That transitions can be difficult, and that protection of the divine can ease the dangers of the transition.
Our levels of practice around recitation of the Sh’ma, laying t’fillin, having mezuzot on the doorposts of our house, kissing mezuzot upon entering, or having amulets with these words undoubtedly varies. Yet it is worthwhile to ask where do I need protection in my life? From what? Where am I in transition that could use the protection of the divine or the reinforcement of the sacred?
QUESTIONS
How do you think Moses should respond to being denied entrance to the Promised Land? Are there things in your life for which you have been punished or felt punished for which you are neither accepting responsibility nor pushing back? How can you start to take your share of responsibility for the mess humanity has made of the more than human world? What’s one action you can take, no matter how small, to repair the more than human world?
Where are you out of balance in your Jewish or other spiritual practice? Where are you out of balance in your relationship with the more than human world? What would balance look like both for spiritual practice and in relationship to the more than human world?
How do you think about monolatry vs monotheism? How do you think about centering YHVH compared to centering the more than human world in your spiritual thinking and action? Does the possible worship of deities such as Asherah open up any possibilities for you?
Where do I need protection in my life? From what? Where am I in transition that could use the protection of the divine or the reinforcement of the sacred?
