Behar-Bechukotal 5772

Rabbi Joshua Kullock

Comunidad Hebrea de Guadalajara

This week, we find ourselves reading the last parashyot of the third book of the Torah.  This book, devoted to teaching that, in the Jewish tradition, rituals and ethics make up a unique and unbreakable fabric that cannot be separated, ends with a long list of rewards and punishments destined to those who fulfill or transgress the established covenant.

This hard admonition served as epilogue to the guidelines of the bond forged between Israel and God: once the procedures and manner of keeping alive the relationship were perfectly clear, the consequences entailed by the decision to not fulfill the commitment were mentioned at the end.

Moreover: at least up to this time in history, the people of Israel were already prepared to enter the Promised Land.  The divine revelation at Mount Sinai and Moses’ explanation of the law had already occurred, so the only thing that was left was to cross the Jordan and settle on the other side.  It is in this context, prior to the conquest, that the rewards and punishments of Parashat Bechukotai are mentioned.  The fact that the story did not turn out as planned, and that they had to wander through the wilderness for forty years, also serves to explain the reason why, at the end of Deuteronomy, Moses delivers a similar speech to an entirely renewed people. 

In the context of rewards and punishments, I think it is important for us to reflect on the need to condition the fulfillment of the mitzvoth that sustain the covenant.  In times such as the ones we live in, so different from what was happening three thousand years ago, it is valid to wonder whether framing observance within a reward and punishment frame does not corrupt the entire structure.  Is it sensible to promote a life of mitzvoth in our communities, when the price to pay is the imminent threat of celestial punishments?

Maimonides, in the 12th century, was one of the scholars who tried to explain the mechanism of rewards and punishments that appears in the Torah, explanation which was later on extended by the Talmudic sages.  To this purpose, he took advantage of the following parable:

Imagine a small child who has been brought to his teacher so that he may be taught the Torah, which is his ultimate good because it will bring him to perfection.  However, because he is only a child and because his understanding is deficient, he does not grasp the true value of that good, nor does he understand the perfection which he can achieve by means of Torah.  Of necessity, therefore, his teacher, who has acquired greater perfection than the child, must bribe him to study by means of things which the child loves in a childish way.  Thus, the teacher may say, "Read and I will give you some nuts or figs; I will give you a bit of honey."  With this stimulation the child tries to read.  He does not work hard for the sake of reading itself, since he does not understand its value.  He reads in order to obtain the food…  As the child grows and his mind improves, what was formerly important to him loses its importance, while other things become precious.  The teacher will stimulate his desire for whatever he wants then.  The teacher may say to the child, "Read and I will give you beautiful shoes or nice clothes."  Now the child will apply himself to reading for the sake of new clothes and not for the sake of study itself…   As his intelligence improves still more and these things, too, become unimportant to him, he will set his desire upon something of greater value. Then his teacher may say to him, "Learn this passage or this chapter, and I will give you a denar or two."  Again he will try to read in order to receive the money, since money is more important to him than study.  The end which he seeks to achieve through his study is to acquire the money which has been promised him. When his understanding has so improved that even this reward has ceased to be valuable to him, he will desire something more honorable.  His teacher may say to him then, "Study so that you may become the president of a court, a judge, so that people will honor you and rise before you as they honor So-and-so."  He will then try hard to read in order to attain his new goal. His final end then will be to achieve the honor, the exaltation, and the praise which others might confer upon him.

Reading Maimonides’ words, we do not only start to understand what we read in the Torah, but also come to realize that the mechanism of rewards and punishments permeates our lives in countless ways, and actually, is often used by us as we struggle to raise our children.

Nevertheless, and as Rambam will say at the end of his allegory, the system through which rewards are promised and punishments are announced, is despicable.  We use it with the firm conviction that, through the years, growing children will finally understand that what is important is not what they considered as their prize (honey, gold, honor), but rather that the true blessing is the possibility to study, to expand their awareness and creatively assert themselves on the tradition of Israel.

For Maimonides, and hopefully for us as well, the ideal is not to devote oneself to a structure that engenders fears and blame, but to challenge ourselves to generate a framework that will allow us to embrace a dynamic, inclusive and vibrant Judaism, rooted not in fear but in a deep love for the Torah and the thousand-year-old message of our people.

 We will then be able to echo the words of the Psalmist, who maintained that, “The world is built with loving-kindness” (89:3).  May God inspire us to carry out together this blessed task.

Shabbat Shalom u’Meborah!