Sep 01/07 - Parashat Ki Tavo

Commentary by Rabbi Alan Green

 

“You shall answer and say before the Lord your God: ‘My father was a wandering Aramean. He went down to Egypt, few in number, and sojourned there. But there he became a great and very populous nation. The Egyptians dealt harshly with us, and oppressed us. They imposed heavy labour upon us. We cried out to the Lord, the God of our ancestors, and God heard our cry, and saw our affliction; our misery, and our oppression. And God brought us out from Egypt, with a mighty hand, and an outstretched arm; with awesome power, and by signs and wonders. God brought us to this place, and gave us this land: a land flowing with milk and honey. Therefore, I now bring the first fruits of the soil which you, O God, have given me.’”

Deuteronomy 26: 5-10

This short passage, taken from today’s Parashah, successfully condenses the whole master story of the Jewish people to its very essence. It is a ritual confession, which accompanied a person’s offering of First Fruits (BIKKURIM) as part of the ancient celebration of Shavuot. Therefore, it’s appropriate that all of the major elements of our tradition are here: Israel as a people; the land of Israel as our true home; the Covenant; God as the guarantor of the Covenant; and redemption by a compassionate, all-powerful God.

This same tale has repeated many times throughout the thirty-five centuries of Jewish existence. In fact, the whole of Jewish history can be understood in terms of our proximity to, or distance from God and the land of Israel. As we move closer to God, living in the land of Israel—our ideal, eternal homeland—becomes more possible. And the reverse is also true. As we move away from God, living comfortably in the land of Israel becomes a more distant possibility. But what mediates our proximity to God?

Proximity to God is a function of our understanding and practice of Torah—the vast body of law, literature, philosophy, and commentary that spells out the terms of the Covenant. However, the clarity of our understanding, and our devotion to the practice of Torah, are in constant flux. Moses warns about this in several places in the book of Deuteronomy, and the prophetic books of the Bible are filled with numerous examples of our failure to live up to the terms of the Covenant.

According to our tradition, the Jewish people lost their land in 586 BCE to the Babylonians, primarily because of widespread practice of idolatry; and in 70 CE to the Romans, mainly because of factional infighting that arose due to causeless hatred. But to say that these two exiles had a dramatic impact on Jewish life, would be severely understating the case. Judaism wouldn’t be Judaism without them. One could even argue that Judaism could not have realized its potential for real greatness, without experiencing each exile, painful and tragic though it may have been.

In all three exiles, miraculously, we were able to hold on to our language, culture, religion, and identity in foreign and hostile environments. In all three exiles, we prayed to return to God’s good graces, and ultimately, to our land of Promise. In all three exiles, at various times, places, and with varying degrees of intensity, we were ground under the heel of oppression (by far the worst example being the Holocaust).

And in all three exiles, the Jewish people eventually succeeded in returning home. In the words of today’s Parshah, “God heard our cry, and saw our affliction, our misery, and our oppression.” Moved by the suffering of His people, three times in our history, “with a strong hand, and outstretched arm,” God Himself set in motion the complex mechanisms required to redeem His people from slavery and exile.

In fact, exile and redemption are part of a natural process. It’s always preferable to live comfortably in one’s own home. But over a period of years—or centuries!—one can become too comfortable in a home setting, and begin to take it for granted. One can start missing rental payments, or having proper respect for the landlord. Eventually there is a tipping point, at which time eviction is the only alternative. Sometimes a forced removal is the only way to clarify one’s life priorities. In fact, each of our exiles sowed important seeds of future greatness.

The enslavement of Egypt provided the basis for receiving the Torah at Mt. Sinai—the real beginning of Jewish history. The Babylonian exile created the circumstances for the greatest period of Israelite prophecy, with its vision of a redemption that included all of humanity. The Roman exile gave birth to the Rabbinic revolution that made it possible for Judaism to flourish in exile. The tools for practicing and understanding Torah originated by the rabbis, continue to inspire and influence us to this very day.

Today, we are most fortunate to have witnessed the end of the Roman exile and, after some 1900 years, the birth of the State of Israel. With the return to our traditional homeland, and the amazing growth and development of the State of Israel, our generation is writing another great chapter in the never-ending master story of the Jewish people.

May we live to see this story fulfilled in our day, with peace, harmony, and “a land flowing with milk and honey,” not just for the Jewish people, but also, for every nation and people on earth.

Shabbat Shalom.