Shortly after the surprising announcement of a new alliance in the Israeli Knesset -- the result of quick and clandestine negotiations that produced a mega-coalition between Israel's major political parties -- the murmurings of social protest began to emerge yet again. Stav Shaffir, one of the faces and voices of the massive protests in Israel last summer, ominously tweeted that "if this new government does not fall, we will take it down."
The 2011 protests, characterized by tent camps throughout the country, focused initially on issues of cost of living and especially housing. Inevitably, though, some of the animus in the protests was directed at the government itself, the political process and the general social order. The energy in the protests -- together with their kin in the American "Occupy" movement -- embodied a political pluralism ranging from activists genuinely alarmed by the rising price of food and rent all the way to anarchists for whom the fomenting rebellion signaled an opportunity to challenge basic societal norms.
I understand where the extremism comes from. The instinct to act on behalf of justice is often borne out of a sense of deep brokenness, and the belief that the prevailing structures of power and authority are fundamentally misguided. Accordingly, it is believed that to promote incremental policy change without redressing the basic infrastructure that underlies the fabric of our societies -- even if it creates temporarily better conditions -- will not lead to societal transformation.
But this political pluralism, in turn, makes the work of justice a tough sell across the political divide. The iconoclasm of extremism creates fear in the mainstream about the work of justice, even when its goals may accord with mainstream ethical sensibilities.
I believe that there is important work to be done in bringing about justice in this world, both on concrete issues and in more conceptual ways; I also recognize that there are still times when justice can only be pursued through systemic, revolutionary overhaul. But I am skeptical of the instincts in America and in Israel to do this urgent work of today against -- rather than in concert with -- the existing social and political infrastructure. This week's twin Torah portions of Behar and Behukotai, which together conclude the book of Leviticus, implicitly challenge the impulse to frame social activism over and against normative legal policies.
The two portions are held together by a unifying frame, with the opening and closing verses reminding us that these texts were a part of God's revelation to Moses at Mount Sinai. In between these verses, however, is the stuff not of otherworldly spirituality, but the earthly rules by which a society is made just.
The Sabbatical laws both free the land from agrarian domination and institutionalize ethical work practices for those whose livelihoods are controlled by others. The Jubilee laws then go one step further in attempting to prevent the transmission of poverty across multiple generations. Even if inequity will inevitably emerge from the marketplace, the Jubilee creates a once-every-50-years assurance that the system cannot perpetuate it forever.
The theology of this call for justice has two key elements: First, it ties the mandate for justice to the Israelite experience as slaves in Egypt, thereby connecting altruism with communal experience, and giving value to the incremental pursuit of justice. As a result, there are measures built into the Israelite legal system designed to deal with change when it is needed. Interestingly, while the paradigm of Exodus as revolution is well known to us, here the Torah reminds us that this narrative must also inform how we live life after the revolution, by demanding that we create just laws for all members of our society.
Second, the Torah also reminds us that the work of justice comes not merely from the human ethical impulse but also from divine fiat. Rashi, the great medieval biblical commentator, invites us to notice the inherent connection between human justice and Divine revelation in the Torah by asking provocatively, "What does Shemittah (Sabbatical law) have anything to do with Sinai?" The Torah's message is that our efforts at establishing just societies must reflect God's vision of justice, and that God's instruction to us involves concrete rules and regulations.
Moreover, unlike our tendency to differentiate between those laws that are between persons (which we associate with the work of justice) and those laws that are between people and God, the Torah demands that these are fundamentally intertwined. The ban on idolatry, which comes at the center of these portions after the rules of justice are enumerated, signals a failure to integrate justice and authority, or justice and revelation.
One inherent risk in justice work is that we become convinced that it is through the adoption of our ethical ideals alone that society can be improved, rather than seeing that we must work together with others to discern how best to implement God's vision of justice through the norms we establish for our society.
I fear sometimes that in our efforts to create more just societies, we can become self-righteous, indulging in the idolatrous practice of worshipping our own ideals. Not only is this spiritually and ethically problematic, but it usually leads to a further breakdown between "activists" and the "establishment," in which it becomes all the more difficult to create the change we seek. The Torah here connects justice to obedience, and not iconoclasm; the work of justice is inherently part of the social order, and not anathema to it.
When justice is part of our founding narrative, we must embrace not just the part of the story about our liberation from tyranny, but also the responsibility to use that memory to establish just societies. And when we view this mandate as issuing from God, we become partners in a larger process, and we belong to a larger order. Recognition of God's role in the work of justice demands of us great humility, as we cannot revel in our iconoclasm or stand on the periphery and hurl insults at others involved in shaping our societies. Rather, we must invest ourselves in the often slow and arduous process of improving our communities, listening carefully for the echo of the Exodus -- and the whispers from Sinai -- pulsating across space and time.
ON Scripture -- The Torah is a weekly Jewish scriptural commentary, produced in collaboration with Odyssey Networks and Hebrew College. Thought leaders from the United States and beyond offer their insights into the weekly Torah portion and contemporary social, political, and spiritual life.
Why do commenters come to religion section and act sanctimonious that religion is being discussed?
Weird.
If we believe that righteousness is a gift of God, it produces an environment of humility, tolerance, and a confidence for the future.
Shalom
-- then it follows that we believe in God. But that's just ridiculous.
All human decency begins with the golden rule, universally understood by all cultures.
Build from there.
Until you do you're just another cult member in search of a war, and shame on you for your inability to understand this.
Maybe you were born with good sense. I was born screaming, covered with blood and goop and quite incapable of making well-informed decisions.
I think more books would help. Not less. But less fixation on just one book.
Although I did say "holy books", and I think that's a neat phrase that encompasses the idea that a book you're required by others to agree with and take heed of is automatically a bad one.
But generally, I agree that lots of books are a good thing, and that furthermore, censoring anything that anyone wishes to say or read about is a bad thing.
I like the part where Godzilla and the Pink Unicorn make out !
And then I like to go to The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster !
"I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man. She must be quiet." (1 Timothy 2:12)
"Go, now, attack Amalek, and deal with him and all that he has under the ban. Do not spare him, but kill men and women, children and infants, oxen and sheep, camels and asses." (1 Samuel 15:3)
You shall not let a sorceress live." (Exodus 22:18)
"Then God said: 'Take your son Isaac, your only one, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah. There you shall offer him up as a holocaust on a height that I will point out to you'."(Genesis 22:2)
"Wives should be subordinate to their husbands as to the Lord." (Ephesians 5:22)
"Slaves, be subject to your masters with all reverence, not only to those who are good and equitable but also to those who are perverse." (1 Peter 2:18)
"Go, now, attack Amalek, and deal with him and all that he has under the ban. Do not spare him, but kill men and women, children and infants, oxen and sheep, camels and asses." (1 Samuel 15:3)
Lets say using an atomic bomb on Japan was justified as the only way to end the war. Would you agree that it would be impossible to kill men only? The animal portion is highly metaphorical, referring to the enemy disguising themselves.
You shall not let a sorceress live." (Exodus 22:18)
If someone is going around putting cyanide in tylenol capsules, wouldn't the death penalty be on the table? There's an example of taking chemistry and the death penalty together.
"Then God said: 'Take your son Isaac, your only one, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah. There you shall offer him up as a holocaust on a height that I will point out to you'."(Genesis 22:2)
What about a family that has a history of going into war, and a father gets his son to join an elite unit that has a high risk of being killed in action. We tend to praise those families. Remember, before you respond to this line in the Torah: highly metaphorical.
Religion is doing what your are told regardless of what is right.
Read just a bit farther in Leviticus 25 and you will get to:
“Your male and female slaves are to come from the nations around you; from them you may buy slaves. You may also buy some of the temporary residents living among you and members of their clans born in your country, and they will become your property “ (Leviticus 25:44-45).
So i guess slavery is just fine then.
If this is not enough, try reading:
Leviticus 20:9
Leviticus 20:10
Leviticus 20:13
Leviticus 20:27
Leviticus 20:15
Leviticus 21:9
And find out how the list of people who need to be stoned or burned to death includes: disobedient children, adulterers, people accused of witchcraft, homosexuals, prostitutes and blasphemers.
It's must be nice to cherry pick only the parts you like in this biblical buffet, but read the whole thing and you'll understand it much better.
And secondly, I can help you out: why don't you just go straight to the root cause of your issue: you know that the Torah was written by man. If that's the case, then you don't need to cite those verses, instead you can just state that the whole thing is irrelevant and you'd be right.
Why should any of us have to read the Talmud, as if it helps in any way to obviate the immoral passages of the Bible? I think we are free to state that many of the proscriptions in the book of Leviticus are immoral on their face, and we do not have to look for a super-special codex or decoder ring with which to view them in order to see that all his hunky dory. I contend that what is written in Leviticus is immoral. If you can provide those of us who believe this with some explaination that sets aside the immorality we find in Leviticus, please share it.
This bronze aged tribal middle eastern compilation of scriptures is indeed irrelevant. And consulting an iron aged tribal middle eastern book about how to interpret this bronze aged tribal middle eastern book is not going to be much help.
Couldn't help but notice you seemed to define things this way:
"Iconoclasm=Dangerous disrespect for *my* 'Sacred cows," but
"Idolatry=People Having Ideals that are not my 'sacred cows"
Get off the calling of everything idolatry. Or we actual "idolaters" everything you think is a character flaw. According to your own ideas of what an 'idol' "must be."
Ye Gods... You trivialize the possibility people are talking about *real injustices* as long as you can associate them with bad things you've historically said about other religions.
(That are actually far more about your own thinking than anyone else's to begin with.)
Actually, one of the very purposes of the statuary you find so awful for whatever reason is precisely *because* in very functional and inherent ways, (much unlike literalist commands) they serve to in a very straightforward way remind one of not just respect and reverence, but the *difference* between an 'idol' or an 'ideal' or an 'ideology' or a book of words. A *mental* image is still an image, after all: perhaps some fear other people's statues and project all manner of things onto us, precisely because they think they're 'above' knowing the difference.
And it's not why there's the tents, anyway.