Primo Levi offers a tochecha, a rebuke, in the preface to his classic work, If This is a Man. He calls upon us, those who merely read about what he and all those like him went through in Auschwitz, to “meditate that this came about.” He continues:
I commend these words to you.
Carve them in your hearts
At home, in the street,
Going to bed, rising;
Repeat them to your children,
Or may your house fall apart,
May illness impede you,
May your children turn their faces from you.
He borrows the style of rebukes which appear in our Torah, much as they do in this week’s reading, though he rather holds back, considering what he went through and the source. The Torah reads rather more harshly:
But if you do not obey Me and do not observe all these commandments; if you become sick of My laws and disgusted by My rules, so that you do not observe all My commandments and you break My covenant,
Then I will also do this to you: I will visit misery upon you – consumption, fever that cause the eyes to pine and the body to languish; you’ll seed fields for no reason because your enemies will use them. And I will set My face against you: you will be routed by your enemies; those who hate you will control you. You will be on the run (terrified), even when no one gives chase.
And if, for all that, you do not obey Me, I will add sevenfold suffering for your sins, and I will break your proud glory. I will make your skies like iron and your earth like copper. (Leviticus 26: 14-19)
A plain reading of our parsha reveals the connection between sin and suffering, though to simplify this would be a crime both as moral beings and as readers of Torah. But, without delving into the manifold and serious questions that arise when we consider such a connection, the general point stands. There is some connection between suffering and sin and we must plainly feel a sense of not only mourning but of responsibility for the nightmares that take place in our own society (See Ramban to Iyov 36:7, Gen. 18:19, Guide of Perplexed 3:18 for more on this).
To be clear, I refer here exclusively to us and our own responsibility, however indirect, in these things. I am certainly not – God forbid – suggesting in any way that those who die and suffer deserve to because they brought it upon themselves. Please do not take that to be my meaning. Rather, it is essential to look at ourselves: what have we done to cause or enable suffering? What could we have done better? What can we do in the future?
Rava said… if a person sees that he suffers, let him examine his actions (Berachot 5a).
I do not suggest that we immediately uproot our homes and move to where others need us now, nor do I suggest that we immediately empty our bank accounts and neglect our own families, friends, and community. That would be unwise, impractical, and quickly rather more a hindrance than helpful. Rather, I mean that we must understand that we are responsible – in ways direct and indirect – for the goings-on of our time and place. We make the culture – when necessary the counterculture – that informs all of the people we come into contact with.
Now then, if you will obey Me faithfully and keep My covenant, you shall be My treasured possession among all the peoples because, all the earth is Mine. And you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.’ These are the words that you shall speak to the children of Israel” (Ex. 19:5-6).
We are commanded to be a nation of priests. What does this mean? Rabbi Avraham the son of the Rambam passes on to us a tradition he received from his own father:
The meaning of a “kingdom of priests” is that each community has a leader which is most honored in it, and serves as its exemplar that people in that community follow, and they find the straight path through him. And it says, “You must be, in keeping My teachings, the leaders of the world. Your relationship with others must be like the relationship of a priest to his people. Let the world follow in your footsteps, imitate your actions, and walk in your ways.” This is the meaning I received as an explanation to this verse from my father and teacher of blessed memory.
And why did Hashem command us to play this role?
Ki li kol haaretz, Because all of the world belongs to Him and He cares what happens to its inhabitants.
There is an interesting nuance to Rabbi Avraham’s point. We have a unique role to play, and we play it mostly through our actions, by keeping Torah. At first glance, this seems rather inwardly focused, parochial, and unhelpful. If the Torah desires for us to change the world, why does it not call for a much more direct program? Why do we not circulate with leaflets, make Torah robo-calls, and why do we teach our classes in our own homes instead of in places of worship and offices populated by other groups, where we might reach them?
We may come up with several reasons why Judaism does not endorse these modes of behavior but let’s focus on one: The way to make a difference is not to speak loudly of high ideals. The way to make a difference is to be the difference. Our actions, our habits, our purchases and donations, the cultural assumptions they rest upon and indicate, the results they bear; these are all social contagions.
When we are cruel and indifferent to others; when we gossip, curse, or demean; when we look all the way down from our high horses: these are contagious behaviors. Not just in our own homes and shul, but in our places of work, in zoom meetings, in the supermarket.
And so too with our kindnesses. When we are kind; when we smile; when we share sympathy and extend leeway to those who stumble or do not have the right words or know the accepted social cues; when we open our homes, our hearts, our minds, our wallets: these things are contagious.
The exemplar shares positive contagions. It’s all too easy to picture in our minds many forms of behavior that are not quite as useful and do not quite make a positive difference in the world. Whatever we choose to do – and G-d made us each different – we must do so within the contours of our law and tradition.
Avraham was the paragon of kindness. Yitzchak, restraint and inner-strength. Yaakov managed to pass on his values to all of his children, so much so that, while no two minds are alike, while we each may take different perspectives, we all do so alongside the commitment to Torah and specifically because of our commitment to our relationship with G-d.
