In one of the most famous mass performance reviews in written history, the book of Devarim (Deuteronomy) starts out with Moses doing a recap and overview of the Jewish people since they left Egypt, and the review was hardly favorable.  In re-telling the “incident of the spies”, for example, where the Jewish people were afraid of entering the Land of Israel after hearing the fearful report from the infamous spies, Moses pointedly reminded the people how they had essentially slandered God with their accusation: “Because of God’s hatred for us did he take us out of the land of Egypt, to deliver us into the hand of the Amorite to destroy us.”

This is tantamount to claiming that the whole thing was a setup from the start, namely God freed us from Egypt, only to deliver us into the hands of a much worse enemy and certain death.   We have the luxurious vantage point of having read “The Book” (OK, and we saw the movie too), so we know the story has a happy ending.   But, in defense of the masses, which were manipulated into a state of terror by the spies, can we empathize with their pain when they “claimed” God hated them?   Where were they coming from?

The Longing Underneath The Complaint

When our children come home from school, smarting from a bad grade or being disciplined, for example, and they cry out with unwavering certainty, “My teacher hates me!” are they making a statement of objective fact or are they really expressing an unspoken fear of not being loved by the teacher?  What is the unexpressed longing underneath the complaint?   While it’s very challenging to remain centered, conscious and non-reactive when someone is bitterly complaining, look under the hood of a complaint – especially an irrational one – and you will likely find someone who is insecure, wondering if he or she is loved.  (Just to be clear, I don’t regard terrorism and anti-Semitism as bad behavior inartfully expressing a longing for love.  Disciplining myself to ignore how a message is delivered so as not to lose sight of the expression of an underlying legitimate need, is a choice I make in relationships that I value.)    

If God Only Loved Us…

When seen in the favorable light of compassion, then, you could consider the irrational complaints and accusations the Jewish people made against God, as evidence of very insecure people questioning their relationship with God.  In their minds, in their logic, it made sense that if God really loved them, he could have kicked the Egyptians out of Egypt and let the Jews live free and safe in the fertile Nile delta.  If God really loved the Jewish people, why were they the ones wandering in the desert, why were they attacked and beset by people trying to destroy them, and why did they have to face years of battle to establish their homeland?  At Mt. Sinai, God called us His beloved.  Is that what love looks like?

This reminds me of the confusion my husband felt as a little boy when he lived in the DP (Displaced Person’s) Camps in Germany after the war.  “The bad Germans lost the war,” he was told.  And yet it was these “bad” Germans who walked around freely, seemingly doing as they pleased, while he could only peer in bewilderment at them from behind barbed wire, confined to the grounds of a concentration camp that was hastily upgraded to house the Jews that had nowhere else to go.  Is this what winning looks like?

And when we read the news today, with worldwide terror commonplace, the specter of a nuclear Iran all but inevitable, and anti-Semitism rising up with a terrifying velocity, isn’t it possible to wonder whether God really loves us as well?   Like – what’s the deal?  So are life’s challenges proof of God’s hate or evidence of love? 

A Mother’s Blessing

Every Friday night I lovingly lay my hands on my daughter’s head and I ask that God should bless her like Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah.  Isn’t that beautiful?  But if you think about it, how exactly were our foremothers “blessed”? They had lives of unbelievable challenges, hardships and adversities that seemed much more like curses than blessings, as well as having to endure dysfunctional family dynamics that would compete with any sensational tabloids we see today.  Why would I want any of that for my daughter?  Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to find a better role model?  I racked my brain to come up with a female figure of merit and distinction in any arena that would exemplify an “easy” life and I couldn’t. And not in the fictional world either.

But then I found her – a beloved and famous young woman who has not just the perfect easy life, but the perfect body, long flowing hair, flawless skin, adoring faithful boyfriend, great clothes, loyal and subordinate friends, cute pink car – and it all comes complete with a carrying case.  In case you didn’t figure it out, it’s Barbie.  Suddenly the catchy pop lyrics sound in my head: “I’m a Barbie girl. In a Barbie world.  Life in plastic.  It’s fantastic.”  Now how does that sound?  And yet, that is what the Jews were complaining about.  In essence, if God loved them, then they should have been able to live like Barbie and Ken – in Egypt. 

Life’s Bigger Purpose

But God had – and has – other plans for us. He wants us to have a real, meaningful and fulfilling life. God wants our lives to shimmer with transcendence and holiness, endowed with purpose and service. God wants us to have a life where we overcome adversity, where we choose and grow.  As Rilke said, “The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things.”

You can’t move up the ladder by being a plastic doll or yearning for a life of ease.  And so, while our forefathers and mothers didn’t have easy lives, they had profoundly meaningful and spiritual lives, lives that charted our very course and destiny, and whose qualities are embedded in our spiritual DNA.  When we don’t confuse the good life with an easy life, then we can embrace challenges as a means of self-discovery.   When we don’t expect our lives to be simple, then we can tap into our significance.  In giving us the Torah, you could say that God was the first life coach ever – exhorting us to live our lives by design and not by default.  That looks like love to me.

And therefore, while the complaint of the Jews in the desert against God was perhaps understandable, in the end, it was ultimately unjustifiable – because the longing underneath the complaint equated easy street with God’s love and adversity and challenge with God’s “hatred”.   So even if its origin was fear, such thinking was distorted, immature, it looped others into its negativity, and thus it was rightfully deserving of Moses’ derision.

Blessings Of A Broken Heart

We are but a few days away from Tisha B’Av, the saddest day of the Jewish calendar, where we mourn the destruction of both of our Holy Temples.  We commence Tisha B’Avby reading the “Book of Eicha” – Lamentations.  Remarkably, this week’s Torah portion and the corresponding Haftorah portion include the word, “Eicha”.  “Eicha” is a very unusual word.  It means “woe to you”, but it also means “where”, as in “where are you – spiritually?”  It is the word God used when he asked Adam where he was hiding in the Garden of Eden.  Just as God was not asking Adam about his physical location, Tisha B‘Av is not mourning the loss of a physical structure, but a spiritual reality.

More than a passive yearning for a bygone era however; Tisha B’Av is a call to action.  It serves to remind us why we are here – to fix what is broken, to transform darkness into light and to be a light unto nations.  As long as we have to keep observing Tisha B’Av, it just means that there is still work to be done.   When the brokenness of the world breaks your heart – as it should – remember the famous words of the Kotzer Rebbe who said, “There is nothing more whole than a broken heart”.  We should understand that brokenness creates the cracks that let in the light.

In the days and months ahead, as we may face individual and national challenges, let us not fall prey to insecurity that doubts God’s love and connection.   Remind yourself of times in your life where you have endured suffering that led to blessings or growth and ponder the ineffable survival and spirit of the Jewish people over the millennia.   The challenges of life are not a “set up” – they are meant for us to discover who we are and what we are capable of.  Understanding “where” you are starts with knowing “who” you are.  Such a life is not always easy.  And it’s not a “plastic fantastic” life.  But it is a good life.  Thank God.