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August 23, 2024
He explains, “We have all heard it a thousand times. Christianity is about love, we are told, but Judaism is about…something else, like law, or justice, or whatever. In the past, such ideas were propagated by Christian thinkers…[but] strangely–and tragically–many Jews, including many rabbis and teachers, have accepted, and in some cases even embraced, this legacy of Christian anti-Judaism. And so generations of American Jewish children have been taught that Judaism is about something other than love.” Rabbi Held writes this in the introduction to his new book, Judaism Is About Love, in which he aims to “tell the story of Jewish theology, ethics, and spirituality through the lens of love, and thereby to restore the heart–in both senses of the word–of Judaism to its rightful place” (pg. 8). It’s a lovely book – I recommend it.
I bring this up because this week’s Torah portion, Eikev, is a wonderful illustration of Held’s argument that Judaism is, in fact, about love. As Moses prepares the Israelites to enter the Promised Land, he recounts their journey together and adds several commandments to the ones the people have already received. But woven into all of these laws is the theme of love. The root alef-hey-bet, to love, appears numerous times in our parashah, referring both to the Israelites’ love of God and to God’s love for the people. Love is the motivation for the people to keep the laws, as we read, “And now, O Israel, what does your God יהוה demand of you? Only this: to revere your God יהוה, to walk only in divine paths, to love and to serve your God יהוה with all your heart and soul…” (Deut. 10:12-13). And love is what motivates God to take care of the people, to lead them into the Land and cause them to be prosperous and healthy and successful in their new home. “וַאֲהֵ֣בְךָ֔ וּבֵרַכְךָ֖” “I will love you and bless you,” we read, because “...it was to your ancestors that יהוה was drawn out of love for them, so that you, their lineal descendants, were chosen from among all peoples—as is now the case” (10:15). Love is what animates the covenant between God and Israel.
This is not, however, a simple, warm and fuzzy kind of love. God leans more toward “tough love,” at least in this parashah. Repeatedly, God reminds the people that the blessings they have been given or will be given soon are not rewards. In fact, our portion goes out of its way to remind the people that they’re not so impressive or special. We read, “When you have eaten your fill, and have built fine houses to live in, and your herds and flocks have multiplied, and your silver and gold have increased, and everything you own has prospered, beware lest your heart grow haughty and you forget your God יהוה …and you say to yourselves, ‘My own power and the might of my own hand have won this wealth for me.’ Remember that it is your God יהוה who gives you the power to get wealth, in fulfillment of the covenant made on oath with your fathers, as is still the case” (Deut. 8:12-18). Later, God tells the Israelites that they will conquer their enemies and take possession of the Land, but warns them, “And when your God יהוה has thrust them from your path, say not to yourselves, ‘ יהוה has enabled us to possess this land because of our virtues;’ it is rather because of the wickedness of those nations that יהוה is dispossessing them before you” (9:4). Moses then goes on to recount the story of the Golden Calf, the most vivid example of the Israelites’ lack of virtue.
This juxtaposition of God’s everlasting love for Israel along with a reminder of all of Israel’s faults is a bit strange and perhaps disconcerting to us. But I don’t think the Torah is trying to make us feel bad about ourselves. I actually think the Torah is trying to teach us something profoundly uplifting: God loves us unconditionally – literally, without any conditions or prerequisites. For all of the Torah’s talk about commandments and laws, the fact is, we don’t have to earn God’s love through our actions. God doesn’t love us because of what we achieve or produce or accomplish, or even because we keep mitzvot or do good deeds. God simply loves us because we are.
If talking about God’s love just doesn’t speak to your theology (or lack thereof), let’s bring it down to earth. This is the kind of love we are meant to aspire to. It’s not as easy as it looks. At many synagogues, parents offer a blessing to their children at their B’nei Mitzvah service. You might have been at one where they go on (and on and on) about their children’s accomplishments - how early they began to walk and talk, how they excel at school and on the soccer field. In preparation for the big day, I began asking parents to focus on their child’s character rather than their achievements. Some parents could follow the assignment, but others would struggle, saying something like, “You showed such determination when you scored the winning goal for your elite soccer club.” It’s normal, of course, for parents to be proud of our children’s accomplishments and to want our kids to be proud of themselves. But we have to be careful that our children don’t come to think that it is their accomplishments that make them worthy of our love.
The consequences of this kind of thinking can be tragic. When I was in college, one of my close friends tried to end his life. There were, of course, several factors that contributed to the crisis, but one of them was that he was an extremely bright kid who was struggling in school and felt like a failure. When I went to visit him in the hospital, he said, with a tone of utter amazement, “You know, my parents love me no matter what.” The fact that he didn’t know it until that moment broke my heart, to say nothing of how I’m sure it shattered theirs. But thank God he did get the chance to learn that most important fact.
Judaism is about love. The Torah teaches that each of us is worthy of love. Not because we’re rich or successful or clever or even virtuous, but just because we are. To walk in God’s ways means to love others like God loves us – not because they do what we want them to do, not because they make us feel a certain way, and not because they serve a certain purpose in our lives, but just because they, like us, are b’tzelem Elohim, limited, imperfect, messy, beautiful reflections of the Divine.