“If by my laws you walk, and my commands you keep, and observe them…” (Leviticus 26:3)
We are familiar with this theme, one of the most common in Torah. In my Reconstructionist community, we have little difficulty reframing this ancient system of cause and effect. We are also pretty adept at engaging with the human personification of God that appears in the Torah. These approaches support the concept that we must be/do like God to bring divinity into the world. So I was surprised to find myself surprised this year while preparing a bar mitzvah student for their d’var Torah on Parshat Bechukotai.
We began to read the text and noticed that the rewards were pretty outrageous: the earth yielding produce beyond its sowing; safety from enemies and beasts; taking meandering walks with God as in the Garden of Eden. These should have prepared us for what was to come next: “But if you do not hearken to me…. I will mete out shock to you, and consumption, and fever” (Leviticus 26:14,16). I don’t think we made it through another verse. The student stopped reading; mom ruffled her brow; I stared at my book. We are accustomed to the idea that God might threaten us indirectly by altering the natural world, but this sort of direct assault took our breath away.
Find more commentaries on Bechukotai.
I later revisited the text, reaching another unique and difficult passage: “If after this you will not hearken to me…. I will discipline you sevenfold for your sins” (Leviticus 26:27–28). I was transported back almost 30 years, as a friend and I studied a new Torah commentary together in my backyard: “And if our relationship is still strained, I commit sevenfold to our healing…” In his ‘Meta Parshiot’ on Bechukotai (5755-5757) my teacher, Reb David Wolfe-Blank zichrono livracha, engaged in a years-long project using Chasidic commentaries and techniques to transform this troubling passage, stating: “The Torah’s threats are not acceptable in their p’shat – plain meaning.” Rather, he taught that this escalation of demand and punishment is a sign of disconnection. We may be hearing God’s demand but we are not responding. Why not? What is God misunderstanding about us?
And why is God so angry and vengeful here at the conclusion of Leviticus, a book filled almost entirely with regulations, without pesky human activity to rile God up? Is it the isolation of existing so far from the people? Is Moses nodding off over his notebook? Is God worried that the extensive list of expectations is likely unrealistic? Answering this “why?” may be best left to a new midrash, but perhaps we can explore “how” this disruption occurred.
I want to suggest an answer based on psychology, which I have long loved, especially archetype-based approaches such as the Enneagram. The Enneagram is a system of personality sorting that describes nine (ennea in Greek) distinct personality types, each with their own core strengths, motivations, and fears. The most intriguing aspect of the Enneagram to me is how each type will morph into different types when under stress or when feeling unusually positive.
Perhaps God is the ultimate Enneagram Type 1, the Reformer or Perfectionist, motivated by the need to live rightly and driven by a longing for a true, just, and moral world, but with a tendency to become self-righteous. When things are going well, this personality becomes an enthusiastic gourmand, wishing to experience and treat others to all of life’s pleasures, without constraint. Yet when stressed, their world falls to pieces as disappointment in themselves spills into every aspect of life including those around them. Sound familiar? It should.
As people committed to human rights and justice, many of us share this Enneagram personality: the sense of drive and mission, the lofty vision. But this means we also share the dangers of falling to pieces or unrealistic visions of grandeur. As rabbis and community leaders, we, and God, are as likely to be an Enneagram Type 8, the Controller or Protector, believing in our gut that it is our job to combat oppression and stand up for those weaker than ourselves but sometimes becoming a bit domineering. When we are challenged, our confidence withdraws into fear and isolation, but at our best, we have the potential to be truly open-hearted and caring.
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We don’t know precisely why God is stressed, but we do know why we are. We live in an age of extreme views, division, and disconnection, especially since October 7. We are often functioning far from our cores, where we can access our unique strengths and talents, offer our best selves, and hear – and perhaps even seek – other voices.
As we conclude the book of Leviticus, tradition tells us to lift up the Torah and exclaim chazak, chazak, v’nitchazek! – give strength so that we may strengthen ourselves! Through self-knowledge, self-care, and support around us, we can offer our strengths to the world and keep ourselves — and one another — strong.
A third career rabbi, Michal Woll is the spiritual leader of Congregation Shir Hadash in Milwaukee, WI. This year she is celebrating her sabbatical year in Milwaukee as well as her simchat chochma and the bat mitzvah of her daughter, which occurred on Parshat Behar.
