Matot-Masei
Numbers 30:2-36:13
Jeremiah 2:4-28, 3:4, 4:1-2
The prophet Jeremiah is most vividly remembered for his laments and denunciations. In this week’s reading, he bemoans the state of the Jews, whose worst leaders have abandoned God.
The political leaders, whom he calls “shepherds,” have rebelled against God, and the prophets have spoken in the name of the Baal (Jeremiah 2:8). Jeremiah presents perhaps a more moderate criticism of other Jewish leaders: Those who uphold the Torah have not known God; the Kohanim and the fathers have not asked, “Where is God?” (2:6 & 8).
The act of inquiring “Where is God?” has value for Jeremiah. Perhaps not knowing or not asking about God leads to rebellion. Perhaps those who have already strayed overlook opportunities to return by not inquiring “Where is God?”
Apparently, Jeremiah believes the mere attempt to take God into account has value for a leader. Yet I could easily imagine an argument against this belief. People who seem sure that they represent God have perpetrated some of the most awful crimes in history. The formation and development of the Spanish Inquisition probably belongs in this category.
But they have also accomplished some dramatic ethical improvements: Consider the abolitionists and the leaders of the civil rights movement in this country.
I cannot guess how to measure whether the good done by religious fanatics overcomes the evil. Yet the same question applies to atheistic idealists, who have created more than their share of horrors. If we need examples, think of the exploits of Mao or Pol Pot.
I do not know how one would measure the good done by idealists against such evil deeds. But perhaps a kind of low-key pragmatism, without appeal to God or justice, would avoid the worst features of both religious and atheistic idealism.
Presumably, a pragmatic leader faced with a tough decision, with mighty interest groups on both sides, would try to help them reach some compromise. The leader celebrates if the groups at the table can agree to this compromise, whatever principles it violates.
Or perhaps, even at that moment, Jeremiah would want the leader to consider “Where is God?”
This line of inquiry suggests an explanation for an anomaly in the Jewish liturgy. The weekday version of the classical prayer the Amidah contains several paragraphs of supplication. Each paragraph has a single, simple theme, constructed in a few lines and summarized at the conclusion.
The first, for example, begins, “You grant intelligence to humans, and teach people understanding” and ends, “Blessed are you, God, who grants intelligence.”
When we get to the eighth paragraph, however, we find a mix of two themes that are not easily compatible. The opening words stake out a clear theme: “Restore our judges as at first, and our advisers as at the beginning, and remove from us suffering and sighing.”
Our current political leaders seem in some ways not up to the task. Perhaps if they could act more like the giants of the past (the text does not specify which giants, or when to locate that glorious past) we would not experience such troubles as we do. But then the text surprises us: “And you, God, alone should rule over us…Blessed are you, God, a king who loves justice.”
The second half of the paragraph describes a different hope entirely, that we wish to be ruled by God alone, not by any human political leadership, however improved or restored.
Well, which way do we want it? Do we want improved human leaders or the direct rule of God? And why did the author of this prayer combine the two in one paragraph? Because, I think, the author of this paragraph believes that when we have leaders of the right sort, we enjoy God’s leadership. God’s leadership becomes manifest through wise human action.
I wonder if these improved leaders, whose actions manifest God’s leadership, typically inquire “Where is God?” Perhaps, even without thinking of the question, these leaders devise godly actions.