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By Rabbi Joshua Kullock,
Comunidad Judía de Guadalajara, México

Translated by Inés Baum - Proofreading by Ellen Zindler

From the beginnings of human civilization, evil has been a subject for discussion, for analysis, but mainly for pain. In this sense, we see that in extremely ancient texts there are already references attempting to find meaning to the evil that happens without asking permission or pardon. Among these millenary texts, we can also quote our Torah and its retributive theology, which rewards those who are faithful to the covenant and punishes those who break it.

But why has mankind felt the need to justify the evils that happen in the world? What is the meaning underneath this imperious need to explain what is often unexplainable? I think that one of the most interesting answers to these questions is the one that came from Emmanuel Levinas, Jewish French philosopher, who said that the evils which hurt us more are exactly those we cannot include in some sort of sense economics. In his particular case, he was referring to the Shoah.

However, and just as it occurs in its most extreme case with the Shoah, life always presents us with painful situations which we cannot explain. For instance, our Parashah begins with a contrite, sad, and dispirited Moses, crying his sad and solitary ending, with a God Who will not allow him to enter the Promised Land, after so many years of being at His service. Who could be more worthy than the humblest man on earth of being rewarded with a few years of life in Israel? And even so, Va’Etchannan el Adonai…, “And I besought the Lord […]”, VeLo Shamah Elai… - “and [the Lord] hearkened not unto me” (Deuteronomy 3:23,26).

Therefore, not by chance does the Midrash link Moses’ prayer with a verse found in the book of Job (9:22), which says: “It is all one--therefore I say: He destroyeth the innocent and the wicked” (9:22). According to the Midrash, Moses said: “Master of the universe! Are all equal before You? Will You destroy the innocent and the guilty in the same way?" (Tanhuma Va’etchanan 1)

At some point, we can all connect with Moses’ bitterness. And even if not one of us is equal the greatest prophet of all times, we can all feel the profound grief of unexplainable loss. At these moments, retributive theologies seem to crack and stagger. At these times, crisis can lead us to grow apart from God and His Torah.

In this sense, I believe that the beginning of Parashat Va’etchanan is still in the stage corresponding to Tishah B’Av and the period of three weeks of mourning that have just ended. In other words, Moses – as it occurs with Megillat Eichah and the destruction of Jerusalem – binds his loss with divine punishment. Nevertheless, and much to my regret, this stage does not apply only to Moses or Megillat Eichah, nor is it reduced just to three weeks a year, but for many men and women of our time, they must seize and sift their reality depending on this narrative of rewards and punishments. When this narrative breaks, a deep void is produced, extremely difficult to fill later on.

But Va’etchannan not only connects us with the lament and destruction of paradigms that crash along cities that seemed unbeatable, but also offers us another existential stage over which we can (and perhaps we should) build a Jewish vision which is modern, authentic, and relevant for our lives. Our Parashah is the Parashah of the Shemah, and more specifically, of the first paragraph of the Shemah. And this text, very well-known by all of us, invites us to relate with the divine and transcendental from attachment and love: Ve’aHavta et Adonay Eloecha…, “And you shall love the Lord your God” (Deuteronomy 6:5). This love does not depend at any time on interests, privileges, or prizes, but is built upon the deep sense of maintaining the covenant and union.

The building of such a path takes time and work. To arrive at the conclusion that we should do good because in that way of acting we use the divine which is potentially in ourselves, is a challenge which should summon each and every one of us. Because, in understanding the importance of the covenant supported in love and happiness, lays the challenge of building our own Jewish narrative, in which we will be able to find meaning and strengthen our Judaism starting from concrete and day-to-day actions.

Painful moments are inherent to life itself, and as Harold Kushner already said, God never promised that nothing bad would happen to us. Understanding that the pact with God travels along another path, and that we should build this kind of relationship in our own terms, nurtured with classical texts such as the Shemah, is the basis and foundation for finding Nechamah; the comfort of knowing that, notwithstanding the misfortunes we have suffered, we are still here, faithful to the legacy of our tradition to live lives full of meaning and hope.

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Forwarded by Rabbi Gustavo Kraselnik, from Kol Shearith Israel Congregation, Panama.
Translated by Inés Baum and proofread by Ellen Zindler, from B’nei Israel Congregation, Costa Rica.

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