there can be peace in the land

The final chapters in the book of Leviticus turn our focus to our relationship to Ha’aretz, The Land or the Holy Land. In the Torah, this refers to the Land of Israel, which is certainly related to but distinct from the State of Israel. 

The previous parsha, Behar, which on a typical year is read along with Bechukotai, asserts a vision for how to live in alignment to the land so that it yields produce and rain, necessities for a thriving civilization. 

This week’s parsha, Bechukotai, is a painful read. This is generally true any year, but it burns today. And I do not use the word burns lightly. It burns because of what is happening in Rafah. And because it contains an impossible premise. 

Leviticus 26 begins, 

“If you follow My laws and faithfully observe My commandments, I will grant your rains in their season, so that the earth shall yield its produce and the trees of the field their fruit…”

God’s promise peaks in verse six, 

וְנָתַתִּי שָׁלוֹם בָּאָרֶץ
“And I will give you peace in the land…”

If only this was a thing that the Holy One could grant. 
If only this was a thing that a life full of mitzvot could facilitate. 

What follows is the flipside. Known as the tochechot, and chanted in a whisper (if chanted at all). 35 verses of terrifying rebuke, outlining the consequences for spiritual disobedience.

“But if you do not obey Me and do not observe all these commandments…I will wreak misery on you” and everything bad will happen sevenfold to you and your people in The Land. 

The rebuke is not just threatening, it is mean. Needless to say, we have chosen to omit this section from tomorrow’s Bat Mitzvah service. 

This year this text feels descriptive more than proscriptive. Watching the news, my eyes are sick and my soul is full of sorrow. 
.(26:16) מְכַלּוֹת עֵינַיִם וּמְדִיבֹת נָפֶשׁ

The suffering of the people of Gaza is incomprehensible.

And yet I feel called back to verse six, to the idea that there can be peace in the land, wholeness, return, healing. It must be possible. Over and over again, Palestinians in my life remind me, lovingly rebuke me, despair is a privilege. I am so inspired by the growing number of students and teachers, organizers and educators, bringing us closer to this vision.

So this shabbat, I invite you to choose hope, to let yourself imagine the promise of this parsha is a just peace, in which everyone who dwells in the land will know within themselves peace. Palestinians and Israelis, Bedouins, immigrants, and refugees, “shall lie down to sleep untroubled by anyone.” 

May it be so.