March 23, 2011: We Confirm!

Dear Chevre (Friends):

In this column last week, I noted the natural human urge to change course only when our backs are against the wall. We recognize this tendency in our personal lives and in the political arena; the Talmudic Rabbis recognized it in religious matters, as well.

A remarkable Midrash imagines that the Children of Israel accepted the Torah on Mount Sinai under duress: “The Holy, Blessed One turned the mountain upside down and dangled it over their heads, saying: ‘if you accept the Torah, fine, but if you do not, then you will lie buried there!’” (bShabbat 88a) If you think about it, the Midrash makes sense. After all, why should the Jews voluntarily accept the burdensome yoke of the Commandments, a way of life that demands serious self-sacrifice? Personally, I put a positive spin on Midrash by reading it as a metaphorical description of the exalted experience of theophany. Whether the people agreed to the Torah in ecstasy or out of terror, either way, it is not binding, because according to Jewish law, an oath or contract is valid only if one undertakes it voluntarily and with a clear mind. Fortunately, the Midrash continues: “later on, in the days [of Queen Esther,] the Jews confirmed that which they had accepted long ago.” This time, they reaffirmed their earlier commitment to in free circumstances, without obligation or fanfare. Why does the Midrash associate the ratification of the Torah specifically with Purim? I think, partially, in order to stress the absence of divine intervention from the people’s decision. (The Jewish leaders, Mordechai and Esther, acted on their own, and the scroll of Esther does not mention God’s name even once.) I think, furthermore, in order to place ownership and authority over the Torah squarely on earth, as opposed to in heaven. The events of Purim coincide with a watershed moment in the development of the Jewish religion—the end of the era of prophecy and the beginning of the era of interpretation. From then on, God’s Word was no longer going to be revealed through the mouths of prophets, but through the minds of men and women.

Why should we care about Torah? Why should we maintain our devotion to Judaism? Why should we confirm our religious commitments? When we were children, we had to act the way our parents compelled us, just as the Children of Israel had to act the way their Parent compelled them. Even today, desire for approval or fear of reprisal often motivates us. It’s only in the unexceptional, everyday choices we make in secular living that our ethical choices indicate our true character. To be a Jew means to “do the right thing” even when no one’s looking, even when there’s no calculus of pain or gain, and even when God is absent.

Rabbi Brian
rabbi.brian.besser@gmail.com