Torah, Part 1

It's easier to write a Part 1 than a Part 2. I must be an evangelist.

Last night I went to Temple Beth Or to experience a Friday Family service. I was amazed at what I witnessed and participated in.

I had been exposed to Hebrew tradition as a younger man in the form of Messianic Hebrew expressions of worship, which involved reading from the Torah, speaking in Hebrew, and other seemingly strange practices related to the "structure" of worship. But last night everything was different.

During the course of studying the Psalms in Religion 103 I have come to appreciate the Old Testament in a fresh way, particularly pertaining to the Torah. At first read-through, the Pentateuch is a dizzying array of covenantal law in which God's will for His people is expressed in exacting detail. Such a God of rule-following was never appealing to me as a younger man. I suppose such is the case for many teenage Americans. No one wants to follow rules in the United States unless it benefits them to do so. And therein lies the nugget of great "blessing" so often missed in my New Testament studies.

Blessing is often associated with action. I do something, then I am blessed. Perhaps there are those among us who have had a million dollars dropped into their laps while sitting on the couch eating Doritos; or maybe others have done nothing to deserve the loving kindness expressed to them by a complete stranger. Nevertheless, the Torah makes a clear point that blessings are something to be desired in one's life, and they often come as the result of putting one's faith into action.

So what does it mean to live a "blessed life?" What is "blessing" after all? In a later post I will wrestle with that very topic, but for now I will focus on its existence as pertaining to the Torah.

It seems that God's very presence was felt in the midst of His community as a result of His people's adherence to rule-following. Deuteronomy chapter 6 issues the Shema, which states: "Hear, O Israel! The LORD is our God, The LORD is One! You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might" (Deut. 6:4-5, NRSV). The verse before this states: "O Israel, you should listen and be careful to do it, that it may be well with you and that you may multiply greatly, just as the LORD, the God of your fathers, has promised you, in a land flowing with milk and honey" (Deut. 6:3, NRSV). The idea here seems to be that if I make God my priority with a single-minded adherence to following His guidelines for my life, then God's very presence will be with me causing me to receive many blessings including an increase in children and an abundance of basic living essentials as well as non-necessities. Rule-following has its benefits. But God didn't want autonomous rule-followers. The Shema itself is explicit; God wanted people to love Him. And the natural outcome of a loving relationship should be holistic well-being.

God's law was then to be spoken of everyday. The "rules" were to be physically placed throughout society in architecture and in oral tradition. The Torah was revered as something more than a well-written historical document; it was the expressed will of God for humankind. It was a way for God to provide a loving "canopy" of protection around a people living in the midst of a hostile reality. Following the Mitzvot was the natural response of someone who understood and embraced this kind of love in creation.

So how does this all relate to Temple Beth Or? Simple. We were all given a booklet to follow, which was a blessing itself. The men were given yamikas, as well as some of the young girls who wanted to wear them. This was a Reformed Jewish temple, so the allowances for gender equality were well accommodated.

As the service progressed, we were quickly in the midst of ancient ceremony. We would rise for many things and sit for explanation to the gentiles and exposition of scripture. Of particular note, in the midst of all the spoken Hebrew prayers, the Scrolls were revealed and marched about the room for all to see. In a gesture of respect, we all faced the Torah as it moved about the room, never allowing our backs to be turned to it. We were told of a prayer in which everyone must face west as it was being recited. The sacredness of the Scrolls took on a completely new meaning for me. The way that scripture was revered was something that cut my heart asunder; O, how I take God's word for granted! If I were to lose my Bible, I could just go to the store and buy another one. For the Jew, it is an event to read from the scriptures. Such devotion stands as an example to me of the love that exists in the heart of those who follow Torah.

As I was reading the booklet that I was handed which detailed the service (and translated the Hebrew into English) I was amazed at how often God's love was mentioned. I was inspired by how often God's love was referenced to "creation." I was amazed at how God's presently-creating power was called upon to heal the sick in the community. I was amazed at how every aspect of creation—from multi-celled organism to sub-atomic particle; even to the vastness of space and the things beyond our comprehension—were revered as the result of God's love in creation. Such a broad scope of the love of God cannot be contained; yet it was appropriately recognized all throughout the service.

So what of this "blessing" then? How does this fit in? Well, blessings were offered to God, and it was expected that blessings would be received naturally by us as we worshiped God through ceremony. God's "canopy" of Torah is something that exists whether we are awakened to it or not. However, to those who have been awakened, much in the way of blessing becomes available to them. Does this mean it's appropriate to seek the blessing for its own sake? Certainly not. We are not commanded to love the blessing, but to love God.

So then, the proposition seems to fit, in that as we pursue God with our love, we become awakened to His presence in our lives, and participate in this exchange of blessings that are designed for our benefit, from our loving Creator to us, such that we do not deserve, but such that He willingly bestows upon us. Such is the nature of Torah.