We see living law in action with the first set of ‘curses.’ The man who does x is cursed and the people say ‘Amen.’ This stops the imperfection in the stone from staining the nation. Through law, the nation stunts the impact of human limitation. A nation with these self-reinforced curses is functioning perfectly.
The tremendous blessings of this reading follow immediately afterwards.
These blessings seem to be more than counter-balanced by a fleet of curses. They all fall under the general category of klalah. Where a beracha opens up new physical and spiritual potential. A klalah closes such potential. Nonetheless, if we read carefully, we can see that the first set of klalot are described individually as arur. An arur is a curse with the purpose of teaching a lesson. These are reminders of our ability to improve our relationship with Hashem.
It is only after the set of arur curses that we are reminded of the need to perform our service to Hashem with joy that we reach the pure klalot. Curses seemingly for the purpose of cursing. Why does a lack of joy trigger these additional and pure curses; curses without the benefit of creating an example?
To answer that, we must return to the Rosh Hashanah service. Central to this service is the idea of Kingship. I understood kingship on my wedding day. It was better for me to ask somebody else to fetch my jacket than to do it myself. It was an honor and a joy for them to serve.
The central theme of our commandments involves converting our productive energies to timeless connection to Hashem while combating the risk of our world. In this vision, we don’t need the negative to be driven to creation.
Our purpose is to recognize and share the deep joy – rather than self-destruction – than can come from a world without risk but still full of creation.
If we fail to do this then there is no need to make an example of us. Curses can serve their own function. Our failure repudiates these values and this purpose and the shrinking of our creative and spiritual possibility is an inevitable consequence.
The internalization of these messages – with plaster and tribes memorably standing adopt mountains – raises the Jewish people yet again. We are described as having changed: “Yet until this day, the Lord has not given you a heart to know, eyes to see and ears to hear.” We were like stone idols, without a heart to know, eyes to see and ears to hear.
When we take on our own responsibilities, commit the fruits of our own labor to building the connection to Kedusha, plaster over our national faults in order to write the Torah upon our people and embedding in ourselves the emptiness of a world without our national message, we achieve an incomparably different level.
We come to life spiritually – as a nation.
We find joy in the good, and so we are compared to G-d.
May we all be blessed with inscription in the Book of National Life.