Parashiot Behar/Bechukotai

“O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.” – the Rebbe of Stratford-on-Avon

Like many artists, my current state of mental health is largely determined by the elusive presence of “my muse”.

Although I have often quipped that my muse is a (hopefully lucrative) deadline, I am subject to the whims and fancy of my creative juices, which sometimes are just not flowing. Like a car with an unreliable battery, I never know if I will be able to get started with a simple turn of the key, or if I will have to spend my time looking for a jump.

When I am inspired, life unfolds smoothly, time passes quickly and productively, and my euphoric presence is a positive influence on my family, my friends, my congregants and my collaborators.

When my “muse” seems to have forgotten about me, time drags to a crawl, all of life’s little rough edges get increasingly sharper, and I find myself relying on my back catalogue of work to sustain me until that moment when my muse reappears, and I am able to forge ahead with abandon.

According to the ancient Greeks, there were originally three muses;  Aoidē, the muse of song or voice,Meletē, of practice, and Mnēmē, memory. The Rav HaNazir, Rabbi David Cohen , writes in his book “Kol Hanavua” that some early Greek philosophy actually comes out of traditional Jewish wisdom. Perhaps there is a traditional Jewish source to this mythological tradition?

In the secend half of  this week’s double parasha Torah reading, Parashat Bechukotai, in Chapter 26, beginning with verse 3, we read the fine print of the brit, the contract we accepted earlier at Sinai when we, as a nation, answered, ‘”Na’aseh v’N’shma, we will do and we will listen.” Upon our arrival at verse 14, we revisit the first of two very dark neighborhoods of the bible, the tochacha (words of rebuke) section, detailing the consequences of casting off our covenantal responsibilities. It is a shocking reminder of Jewish history, as many of the unfortunate and tragic experiences of our people are outlined here.

A careful reading of this tochecha reveals two distinct categories of national transgression.The first section refers to a defiant attitude towards the mitzvot. “And if you will not listen to Me, and if you will not fulfill all of these commandments; If you despise My statutes and your souls loath My laws, so as not to fulfill my commandments, thereby breaking my covenant, then, I will do the same with you. I will impose terror upon you, swelling and fever that consume the eyes and fill the soul with grief. You will plant your seeds in vain, because your enemies will consume your crops.” (Lev. 26:14-16)

Ouch! These are harsh words indeed! And, it gets worse… But, these consequences are reserved only for those who find the concept of a G-d repulsive, and who will most likely attribute their misfortune to worldly forces alone.

The Torah then goes on to describe those who choose to believe in G-d, but not commit themselves to the responsibilities of the covenant.

“If you will walk with me KERI, and have no desire to listen to me, I will increase the consequences upon you sevenfold, as your transgressions”.   The word KERI is usually translated as “contrary”. Rashi explains that KERI means irregularly, or by chance. Rabbi Samson Rafael Hirsch goes even farther, describing those whose behavior may by chance conform to the Torah or not. They are not opposed on principle to the commandments, but the mitzvot are too much trouble to take seriously.

The consequence is that G-d will respond in kind. “ Then, I too, will walk B”KERI…”

G-d’s response is that obvious Divine intervention in the world for the sake of the Jewish people will be diminished, allowing human and natural forces to operate unimpeded.

Rabbi Yitzchak Arama (1420-1494), in his famous commentary Akeidat Yitzchak, writes that mankind can divided into three categories: The non believers, who attribute the world and their very existence completely to chance; those who believe in some kind of spiritual element, but who do not recognize G-d as the sole creator and authority in their lives, and those who believe in the true Creator, and accept the yoke of heaven.

We can say the same about our brethren, the Jewish people. Many have chosen to remove G-d, and matters of the soul from their lives, and the words of the Torah are completely irrelevant to them. G-d is not present in the lives of those who choose not to have a relationship.

A few have devoted themselves to serving the Creator in a strictly committed fashion, being as careful as possible to remove themselves from any situation that could distract them from their spiritual mission.

Most of us, however, believe that although ultimately we are under a divine stewardship, and there are spiritual, moral and absolute truths that shape our lives, we need to experience all that the world has to offer, and prefer to embrace the secular as well, and on our own terms. And as we are influenced by those for whom religion is irrelevant, and morality flexible, we continuously struggle with the competing urges to accept or break free from our spiritual servitude. Materialism replaces spirituality, and with it, an inability to feel satisfied in life. “You will eat but you will not be satiated…” (Lev.. 26:26).

We are content with b’keri, chance encounters with the divine. We will initiate the sacred relationship at our convenience, whenever we decide to turn the key. As a result, many of us often live in a confused, uncertain state, never sure of whether or not our spiritual engines will start up, or if we will have to wander around aimlessly in search of a jump. We never know when our next moment of inspiration will arrive, and whether we will be ready to act if and when it does.

But the tochecha ends on an up note. The Jewish people have the capacity to return, to reinitiate the relationship, to once again live an inspired life, with the presence of G-d obvious, powerful, and deeply satisfying.

“…But, when the time finally comes that their stubborn spirit is humbled, I will forgive their transgressions. I will then remember My covenant with Jacob, and also my covenant with Isaac, and also my covenant with Abraham I will remember, and I will remember the land”. (Lev. 26:41-42)

We can choose to recapture our muse, even all three of them. When we choose to sing, and take the time to practice a bit, we are privileged to bask in the memory of the greatest moment in history, the creation of the human spirit.

This Sunday we will celebrate Lag B’omer, a turning point in the Jewish calendar, where we move from mourning the past to embracing the future. We begin to approach the holiday of Shavuot, when we celebrate the opportunity to rededicate ourselves to a life filled with deliberate encounters with the Divine, and the rewards of Torah. We can do our part to rekindle our spiritual memories, just as we ask our Creator to remember us on Rosh Hashanah.

Judaism does not require perfection, just dedication.

We have our muse, and if we can keep the relationship strong, we needn’t leave anything to chance.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Greg