August 11th: Re’eh
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
In much of Deuteronomy, one sees an effort to control an independent group of people. Though we think of the Israelites as a unified people—standing obediently at Mount Sinai, moving around the desert in formation, listening as Moses relates the latest instructions from the Lord, many Biblical stories speak of the difficulties of getting everyone “on the same page at the same time.” There is even an acknowledgment of this in our Torah portion this week. In Deuteronomy 12.8, we read about the hope that, in the Promised Land, “You shall not act at all as we now act here, every man as he pleases…”
Among the concerns is where sacrificial worship takes place. In pre-Egypt days, it had apparently been a family affair, with the tribe gathering wherever they happened to be—or at special sites known for their holiness. The Authors of Deuteronomy, however, are intent on Temple worship only. The book is clearly Temple-oriented, having been “found” on the Temple grounds during a renovation during the reign of King Josiah (620 BCE). Since it is set in Moses’ time—several hundred years before Solomon builds the Temple in Jerusalem, the text is not specific about where this centralized worship will take place. Instead, it uses a vague and variable expression: “the place where the Lord has chosen to establish His Name.” While wandering in the wilderness, the people worship at the Mishkan/Tabernacle in the center of their camp. Once they enter the Promised Land and disperse to their various tribal holdings, the Mishkan is located in several places over the years. Deuteronomy insists that the Israelites make the pilgrimage to wherever the Mishkan and Ark of the Covenant are located—and that only there can the Lord be properly worshipped.
This was not an easy “sell;” the local or regional worship sites—called bamot /high places—remained popular for centuries. The fact that the Bible is full of diatribes against these local shrines means that they persisted long after the Temple was built. Many of the prophets identify the bamot as places of idolatry or polytheism, but this could simply be their anger talking. What if the people just wanted to continue the religious practices of their pre-Egypt ancestors, worshipping the One God at places special to their families? Was this a “religious” problem, or an “organized religion” problem?
Another possibility is that these holy places were multi-religious—that people from different religions worshipped at the bamot, with each group worshipping their own gods. For the prophets, this non-Jewish worship might have tainted the whole place. Could proximity to pagan worship create or encourage religious “contagion?” Could co-existence and respect soon bleed into syncretism and Israelites joining in with the pagan and idolatrous religions? There are extensive chapters—among them the entire Book of Hosea—which compare the bamot to places of adultery and disloyalty to God. We, who live in a world where other religions exercise enormous cultural and political sway, know of the dangers of creeping syncretism. Walking the line between respect for other religions and disloyalty to our own can be challenging.
This brings to mind the current phenomenon of multi-faith prayer spaces in airports or hospitals. Equipped with prayer materials and ritual objects for a variety of religions, they offer spiritual opportunities to anyone who needs prayer. I have had very positive experiences in such places—saying my morning prayers with Tallit and Tefillin while a Muslim softly chants verses from the Koran and a Catholic prays the Rosary. To me, the spirituality was wonderfully palpable as different people pursued their paths to the One God. However, some Orthodox Jewish authorities prohibit praying there for fear that the other faiths will distract from Jewish worship—and possibly include Jews in non-Jewish rites. Is it mutual respect and appreciation or syncretism?
Or could the Prophetic/Priestly (and Orthodox Rabbinic) objection be more a matter of control? Not being present up on the bamot (or in the multi-faith chapel), the authorities have no way of knowing whether the Israelite worshippers are remaining true to our religion.
Speaking of control, consider this passage, also from this week’s Torah portion:
“When the Lord enlarges your territory, as He has promised you, and you say, ‘I shall eat some meat,’ for you have the urge to eat meat, you may eat meat whenever you wish. If the place where the Lord has chosen to establish His name is too far from you, you may slaughter any of the cattle or sheep that the Lord gives you, as I have instructed you; and you may eat to your heart’s content in your settlements. Eat it, however, as the gazelle and the deer are eaten: the unclean may eat it together with the clean. Be sure that you do not partake of the blood; for the blood is the life and you must not consume the life with the flesh. You must not partake of it; you must pour it out on the ground like water…” (Deuteronomy 12.20-25)
Why would shepherds and herders need God’s permission to eat meat? They would not. What we seem to have here is a priestly attempt to exert control over their far-flung “subjects” and distinguish between slaughtering animals for meat and slaughtering animals for sacrificial worship. When the text specifies, “eat the meat as the gazelle and the deer are eaten,” it is speaking of the way non-sacrificial animals are eaten. Deer and gazelles are “kosher,” but, in the whole Book of Leviticus, the only animals mentioned for sacrifice are sheep, goats, cattle, and turtledoves. Another indication is the phrase, “the unclean may eat it together with the clean.” Tameh/unclean and tahor/clean are ritual terms. People in a state of uncleanness are not allowed to participate in worship until they go through a spiritual purification process. Allowing them to eat slaughtered meat while tameh/unclean means that this meat-eating is not a worship ceremony. A third distinguishing element is in the reminder about not eating blood—a custom that eventually becomes a pillar of Kashrut. This blood is simply to be poured onto the ground—as opposed to the blood in sacrificial worship being splashed on the altar. The authorities could not stop people from eating meat, but they could try to draw a line between regular consumption of animals and the special rituals reserved for “the place where the Lord has chosen to establish His name.”
To me, the comment about “You shall not act at all as we now act here, every man as he pleases…” is akin to closing the barn door after the horses have escaped. The autonomy of individual Israelites and their families has probably been ubiquitous and continual—with the authorities trying persistently to rein in and control their population. For all of the advantages of independence, society and organizations depend on a certain amount of control or at least a sense of common behaviors. As we, who are also blessed with autonomy, try to maintain our communities, how much autonomy should we exercise, and how much should we curtail for the sake of the community?