Bechukotai | Great Expectations

 

     Leviticus chapter 27 records a deal between God and the nation of Israel.

 

"If you follow My laws and faithfully observe My commandments, I will grant you rains in their season, so that the earth shall yield its produce and the trees of the field their fruit... I will grant peace in the land, and you shall lie down untroubled by anyone; I will give the land respite from vicious beasts, and no sword shall cross your land... I will look with favor upon you, and make you fertile and multiply you; and I will maintain My covenant with you" (verses 3-4, 6, 9). 

 

In the first 11 verses of the parasha, God promises three forms of reward for obedience: food, security and health.

 

     Following these statements of hope are 29 verses of threatened curses that will be delivered "If you do not obey Me and do not observe all these commandments."  A sampling:

 

"I will make your skies like iron and your earth like copper, so that your strength shall be spent to no purpose. Your land shall not yield its produce, nor shall the trees of the land yield their fruit... I will loose wild beasts against you, and they shall bereave you of your children and wipe out your cattle... I will bring a sword against you to wreak vengeance for the covenant" (verses 19-20, 22, 25).

 

Here are the counterparts to blessings - famine, sword and disease.

 

     This chapter (and others like it - see Deuteronomy chapters 27-28 for fuller descriptions of bliss and misery) represent what I think is the single most problematic issue in the Torah: reward and punishment. The Torah states repeatedly and unequivocally that man's actions have consequences and that God will mete out reactions to his behavior. While it is generally assumed that man has been granted free will to decide whether to observe the mitzvot or to ignore them, it is also clear that there is a right and a wrong choice.  In the hands of the Rabbis, God's providence over the world is linked to the acceptance of His omniscience - nothing goes unnoticed and everything yields a response.  Based on this dominant Biblical theme, Rambam (Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon 12th century) includes this dual concept of retribution and compensation in his list of the major principles of faith:

 

"The eleventh principle is that God rewards those who obey the commandments of the Torah, and punishes those who violate its prohibitions.  The greatest possible reward is the World to Come, while the greatest possible punishment is being cut off from it... The Torah teaches us this principle in the following account. Moshe said to God 'If you will, then forgive their sin, but if not then extinguish me.' God answered 'The one who has sinned against Me, him will I erase from My book' (Exodus 32:32-3).  This shows that God knows both the obedient and the sinner, rewarding one and punishing the other." (Principle #11, found in Rambam's commentary to chapter 10 of Mishna Sanhedrin).

 

     For people who like to believe that God maintains a connection to humanity and didn't just abandon the world to its own devices following creation, the threat of punishment and promise of reward are comforting ideas.  But I believe that these issues create far more problems than they solve: Is there general retribution only or is providence experienced on an individual level as well?  Does God's response come immediately or is there some waiting period following a sin to allow the perpetrator a chance to repent?  Is reward and punishment fair - is the amount of suffering equal to the number or quality of sin, can the good life be measured by acts of kindness or punctilious ritual observance?  Indeed, can we even link specific behavior to good or bad fortune?  And of course, there's the age-old problem of the righteous sufferers - why do some decent people experience pain while villains prosper?  In short, the Torah seems to indicate that the workings of this system will be apparent to human beings, but in reality - the nature of reward and punishment remains a mystery.

 

     Rabbinic approaches to the dilemma are varied.  The first response tries to dismiss the importance of reward altogether.

 

"Antigonus of Socho used to say 'Be not like servants who serve their master for the sake of receiving a reward, instead be like servants who serve their master not for the sake of receiving a reward. And let the awe (or fear) of Heaven be upon you" (Pirkei Avot 1:3). 

 

Rambam himself who above stressed the importance of believing in God acting in this world wrote the following in his Hilkhot Teshuva (10:1):

 

"Let not man say, 'I will observe the precepts of the Torah and occupy myself with its wisdom in order that I may obtain all the blessings written in the Torah, or to attain life in the world to come; I will abstain from transgressions against which the Torah warns, so that I may be saved from the curses written in the Torah, or that I may be cut off from life in the world to come.'  It is not right to serve God after this fashion for whoever does so, serves Him out of fear.  This is not the standard set by the prophets and sages.  Those who may serve God in this way are illiterate, women, or children whom one trains to serve out of fear, till their knowledge shall have increased when they will serve out of love."

 

     This kind of attitude seems to be based on the notion that God's Torah deserves to be kept simply because God commanded it, or even because of its inherent value.  Yet this simply adds another question to our list: If the ideal is to serve God out of love with no concern for what we're going to get out of it, why devote entire passages in the Torah to incentives for obedience?  Besides all the confusion about the way God operates, our parasha and others seem to be avoiding the true reason for heeding God's word.

 

     And there's more.  Twice so far Rambam has alluded to something called "World to Come."  What does this refer to and what is its connection to our understanding of reward and punishment?  The existence of an afterlife is an accepted fact in the Talmud although the descriptions of its nature are disputed. A well-known passage in Kiddushin 39b is an oft-quoted source regarding the unknowable next world. The Tanna, Rabbi Ya'akov, explains two statements in Deuteronomy, the first in chapter 5:16: "Honor your father and your mother, as the Lord your God has commanded you, that you may long endure, and that you may fare well, in the land that the Lord your God is assigning you."  The second equation appears in chapter 22:6-7.  The Torah promises the following reward: "If along the road, you chance upon a bird's nest, in any tree or on the ground, with fledglings or eggs and the mother sitting over the fledglings or on the eggs, do not take the mother together with her young. Let the mother go, and take only the young, in order that you may fare well and have a long life."

 

     Here is the rabbinic interpretation of these verses:

 

"It was taught: Rabbi Ya'akov said 'There is not a single precept in the Torah whose reward is stated at its side which is not dependent on the resurrection of the dead [resurrection is equated here, though not everywhere, with the next world].  Thus in connection with honoring parents it is written, 'That thy days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with thee.'  In reference to the dismissal of the nest it is written, 'That it may be well with thee, and that thou mayest prolong thy days.'  Now, if one's father said to him, 'Ascend to the loft and bring me young birds,' and he ascends to the loft, dismisses the dam and takes the young, and on his return falls and is killed - where is this man's happiness and where is this man's prolonging of days?  But 'in order that it may be well with thee' means on the day that is wholly good; and 'in order that thy days may be long' on the day that is wholly long [both phrases thus referring to the next world]."

 

     The gemara goes on to report that Rabbi Ya'akov actually witnessed the episode he described.  What messages does Rabbi Ya'akov's teaching impart?  Firstly, that there does exist another world besides our familiar home.  Whether this next dimension occupies physical space and is inhabited by resurrected bodies, or is the final resting-place for souls alone remains one of the unresolved disputes about the next world. Secondly, Rabbi Ya'akov (and other rabbis in numerous Talmudic sources) seems to have solved handily the riddle of reward and punishment to his own satisfaction.  All the questions we raised above can be dismissed quite easily if we accept the notion of an afterlife where everything gets ironed out.  Thus, it only seems like the righteous suffer unfairly in this world despite being exemplary human beings.  Since no man is perfect, the good must get punished for their minor infractions in this world to enable them to fully enjoy the pleasures of the next world.  Do not worry about the discrepancies between the Torah's promises or threats and reality, for you are not seeing the whole picture.  But it is exactly this assurance which leads us to our next puzzler.

 

     Rabbi Yitzchak Arama was a 15th-century preacher and Biblical commentator whose essays are collected in a work called Akeidat Yitzchak.  Chapter 70 is a careful analysis of our parasha, and at its start, Rabbi Arama poses this question: Since the greatest success achievable in study is to acquire the knowledge to ensure survival of one's soul in a world of abstract spirits, the reward offered by the Torah for observance of its statutes should have been just that, not the transient values listed in our parasha.  Remember what Rambam wrote about the ultimate reward and worst punishment - "The greatest possible reward is the World to Come, while the greatest possible punishment is being cut off from it..."  Since the Torah feels the need to promote incentives for obeying God, why does it seem to ignore what is really important and focus on meaningless physical dividends?  In fact, since there are so many problems surrounding the fulfillment of the Torah's claims of recompense in this world, why should questions or doubt not similarly extend to the meaning of the system in the next world?

 

     If you, the reader, think that I'm digging myself into too deep a hole to climb out of, you are mostly correct.  The scholars we have been quoting attempt to provide answers for our uncomfortable situation, but by and large God's ways in this matter remain unknowable.

 

     Rabbi Arama writes that it should be obvious that in comparison to the animal kingdom, man occupies a higher intellectual and spiritual level.  The survival of man's soul for passage into the next world seems a necessary expression of that superiority. For if man's death were to signal the end of his existence, in what way has his life possessed more meaning than a beast's?  Furthermore, Arama argues that although the Bible may not be as explicit in its discussions of an afterlife as documents of other faiths, it does nevertheless mention another world.  "I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living" (Psalms 116:9) for example is taken to refer to the afterlife. Such hints are sufficient for the believer, whereas nothing will convince the scoffers. Most importantly for Rabbi Arama, is his undying faith in the rabbis of the Talmud who wholeheartedly believed in the richness of the afterlife's pleasures, an image that they transmitted from Moses as part of the oral tradition.  These personalities were convinced that the material rewards listed in the Torah merely represented a sign or a hint of the greatness yet to come.  Man is to aim for the visible, knowable target of physical gain while intending to reap the hidden and mysterious benefits that await him.

 

     Rambam, too, explains that although man should ideally serve God out of love, the Torah recognizes that people cannot be expected to work towards unseeable goals, and it therefore addresses people in a way they can accept.  The philosopher explores the following analogy in his commentary to the mishna. 

 

"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 that 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 the reading itself, since he does not understand its value. He reads in order to obtain the food.  Eating these delicacies is far more important to him than reading, and a greater good to him.  Therefore, although he thinks of study as work and effort, he is willing to do it in order to get what he wants, a nut or a piece of candy.  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.  He wants the garment more than the Torah.  The coat will be the end that he hopes to achieve by reading.  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 [coin] 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 that 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 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.  Now, all this is deplorable. However, it is unavoidable because of man's limited insight."

 

     Rav Shlomo Aviner, a 20th century teacher puts this idea slightly differently: If a child who has stolen jam is rebuked by being told that he has damaged his TZELEM ELOKIM - the godly nature within him, and that he has wreaked havoc in the world of the spirit, much more jam will be stolen, and there will be more spiritual destruction.

 

     We are left with partial answers.  The Torah promises a good life in this world, because its adherents live in this world.  And it can't come right out and order people to follow a vast set of rules without some mention of what's in it for them.  Perhaps the necessity for a motive towards good behavior is great enough to risk raising the problems people have in dealing with the system.  But we should also recognize that reward and punishment is not the sole philosophical mystery in the Torah. "In the beginning God created heaven and earth," is the Torah's first verse and how many questions does it suggest?  Who is God?  What is His nature?  How did He create the world?  Why did He even bother?  What was in it for Him?  The Torah does not shy away from presenting truths though they are problematic for its readers, nor is the book generally in the business of explaining things.  It is primarily a record of how things should be done and how things are.  Explanations are usually left for the rabbis.

 

     That "the Torah speaks in the language of man" is an old adage used to explain many difficult phrases in the Bible such as anthropomorphisms in connection to God. While I am not suggesting that God's promises or threats are meant to be allegorical, it is possible that the Torah employs terms of action and reaction, crime and punishment which are familiar to us through our human relationships, simply because that is what is accessible to the human brain.  Since we cannot comprehend God or how He sees, moves, or acts, how can we hope to figure out how He interacts with humans?  And if the next world holds mysteries of reward and punishment perhaps our parallel world is equally unknowable.