Covenant or contract? Chosen or People OF Choosing?

From the earliest days of our recorded history, Jews have struggled with the idea of being in a relationship with G!d, and Jewish texts overflow with examples of this ongoing struggle. The Hebrew term for this relationship is b’rit. Translating b’rit as a contract only confuses things, for the relationship between G!d and Israel cannot be a contract as we understand them today. It cannot be a relationship between relatively equal parties, with starting and ending dates, punishments for breaches, rewards for compliance, and causes for termination.

Moreover, a contract becomes a contract precisely at that moment when both parties voluntarily agree to its details. A b’rit is something radically different than a contract, if for no other reason than the parties thereto are not relatively equal to each other. Consent is not always a necessary condition for b’rit. For this reason, it is better to translate b’rit as covenant rather than contract.

But what is a covenant, if not a contract? For this, I relate two stories. The first is a parenting tip I read a long time ago. It stated that when a young child asks for the hundredth time, “Why is the sky blue?” the child is not actually asking WHY the sky is blue, but is, instead, looking for the reassurance that, yes, indeed, the sky IS blue, and yes, that is the sky, and yes, it is so much larger than we are. But if we stand here together and hold hands and look at that vast blue sky together, we can simply enjoy the vastness and blueness of the sky.

The second is a touching story I recently read about an 11-year-old boy whose father had just died. Being of an observant Jewish family, each morning the boy rose at 5:30am so he could walk to synagogue and pray kaddish for his father before going on to school. This is required of the mourner who has lost an immediate family member for the first year of loss, and the prayer is to be prayed with a minyan of at least ten other adults.

A few mornings after the death, a regular to the morning minyan stopped by the young boy’s house and explained that the boy’s home was on the way to synagogue for him, and he wondered if the boy would like to walk with him so he didn’t have to walk alone. Each morning, the older man held the young boy’s hand as they crossed busy streets and made the trek through snow, rain, sunshine, and gloomy days. For a full year, they walked hand in hand, together, to synagogue to pray. The young boy did not realize then how much of a gift he was being given by the older gentleman, and his burden of grief was lifted a bit by the mere presence of the older man walking with him each day.

When the young boy was much older and able to drive, it was then that he learned that the older gentleman did not live where walking to his house was on the way to the synagogue, but had actually walked an hour out of his way each morning to collect the young, grieving boy and accompany him to synagogue for prayer. That man had taken the time and effort to be there for a frightened and lonely boy during his time of grief and healing.

Both of these stories touch me deeply.

As humans, we crave a sense of belonging, of family, of being connected, in good times, and most especially in the more challenging times. We long to be connected, for someone to hold our hand, feel our pain, share our joys and our concerns, just to be there and walk beside us. No matter our age, I believe this is a deeply held need in each one of us at some point in our lives.

Rabbi Mordechai Kaplan, one of the most important Jewish theologians in the 20th century, illustrated this point using a grammatical analogy: dependent and independent nouns. Independent nouns don’t need anything else to be what they are. A blade of grass is just a blade of grass; it is not defined by any other blade of grass surrounding it. And a table is just a table; it might sit in a kitchen or a dining room or a cafeteria, but it is still a table. A fence is just a fence.

On the other hand, a dependent noun only exists in relationship to something else. A daughter is not just a daughter in general. A daughter is the daughter of a particular parent or parents—-adopted or biological. A teacher is not a teacher unless that teacher has students.

Rabbi Kaplan taught that at our very essence, we human beings are dependent nouns. We might be able to exist simply by eating, drinking, holding a job and providing for our basic needs in the way that most animals provide for themselves. But to experience the fullness of our humanity, we can only do so in relationship to others. We become fully human only by virtue of families and friendships, through the ways in which we interact with one another meaningfully.

In other words, our humanity is expressed when we experience the uniqueness of each other’s souls. We need each other—and depend on each other—to be fully human. All human beings have the need to feel connected to something larger than our individual selves.

When I think about myriads of ways we have nowadays to express our individuality, I think of personal trainers, personal nutritionists, personal coaches, even personal shoppers. If we shop on Amazon or other online venues, we have customized suggestions. We have larger homes and more personal space, and far more autonomy than ever. Our individual choices are myriad. And yet, we are increasingly lonely. Addiction rates have never been higher. Time spent on social media increases every year. Why? Because we are silently screaming for the heart to heart connections missing in our lives, for being part of a deeply caring family or community of others. We are dependent nouns yearning for interdependence with others.

Another great Rabbi of the 20th century, Rabbi Harold Kushner, author of the book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, reminds us that in the story of Eve and Adam in the garden of Eden, G!d calls out to them. “Ayecha?” which is to say, “Where are you?” Rabbi Kushner posits that G!d was not asking because G!d did not know where they were. G!d was asking “Ayecha?” because G!d, too, is a dependent noun, a G!d of relationship. In fact, R’Kushner continues, G!d yearns for this belonging to one another in relationship so much that the entire Bible is filled with stories about G!d repeatedly establishing and re-establishing a covenant with humans. This means that not only do we need each other, it means that G!d needs us, too.

Here’s the interesting thing about a covenantal relationship: While a contract requires both parties to hold up their end of the agreement or the contract is null and void, with a covenant, both parties agree to uphold their part regardless of whether the other party comes through. A relationship that is covenantal has transformative power.

When we look back at our two opening stories, the parenting tip about the child who questions the blue sky and the endearing story of the older man who took a young boy into his heart for his year of grieving loss, we come down to the interdependent nature of a covenantal relationship… the simple act of holding hands and facing something much larger than ourselves, and being there for one another. That is the truest sense of belonging, of family, of care and support, of covenantal interdependence. We are there for the other in quiet but powerful ways. We feel their pain and celebrate their joys. We share their concerns and hold the umbrella as we walk in the rainy days of our lives, together. Maybe we don’t have all the right words; we can’t take away the pain or fix the situation, but we can BE there, holding their hand, surrounded by the vastness of the blue sky, walking to synagogue to pray together. At the end of the day, all we have are hearts that long for one another’s company and presence. We are dependent nouns. We cannot be a friend without the other. We cannot be a sister or brother without a sister or brother. We cannot be a community of one.

Are Jews simply “the” Chosen, or are Jews people “of” Choosing? If we are to mean anything at all in this world, we must become the people of Choosing—people who choose to live by the principles and practices of tikkun v'teshuvah, of acting justly and compassionately toward all creatures. We hear again and again the call to be in covenantal relationship to one another, and with G!d. We are, all of us, called to be shutafim elohim, partners with G!d, in creation. This is our covenantal relationship, our call to tikkun, both tikkun hanefesh v'tikkun ha'olam. To be partners with G!d is to fully realize the Echad in our Sh’ma prayer: tikkun hanefesh, to become one, in order to make G!d One again, so that G!d, and ourselves, are not separated, fragmented, but whole, and holy. It is wholly “all of a piece.” And thus we are led to tikkun ha'olam as well as teshuvah, returning to G!d. Not only where are we with G!d, but where are we with one another as a covenantal community.

“Ayecha?” The only answer our hearts can give is “Hineni!”, which means, “Here I am, choosing to be ready and willing.”