The most important way we absorb our theology is not from reading Torah, but through the prayers of the liturgy. It is in the repetition of prayers in synagogue, that we take in what it is to be the Jewish people in relationship with God. Of course, much of that liturgy is taken from the Torah, but the rabbis were selective in what they took, as they had a theological message not always identical with that of Torah.
Shabbat Chol Hamoed Pesach gives us the opportunity to look back to the opening days of the Chag and forward to the closing days – days on which, when the Sefer Torah is taken from the Aron Kodesh, we sing the beautiful and heartwarming declaration
Hashem Hashem, Kel rachum v’chanun, erech apayim, v’rav-chesed v’emet. Notzer chesed la’alafim, nosei avon va-fe-sha v’chata-a v’nakei. (Lord, Lord, God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger and abundant in kindness and truth. He maintains kindness for thousands of generations, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, and remitting punishment.)
What an optimistic picture of God’s mercy and forgiveness, notably in the last few words: Nosei avon va-fe-sha v’hata-a v’nakei, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, and remitting punishment! But today, sandwiched between those Yamim Tovim, we have in our Torah reading the text from which the liturgical version was developed.
Here, the final words of the passage that God proclaims as he passes before Moshe (Exodus 34:7) are: Nosei avon va-fe-sha v’hata-a, v’nakei lo yenakei, poked avon avot al banim v’al b’nei vanim, al-shileishim v’al ribei’i – forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, yet He certainly does not remit all punishment, but visits the iniquity of parents on children and children’s children, upon the third and fourth generations.
Well, that’s quite some difference. Looking at the Hebrew construction will show how the rabbis softened the impact when they transferred the passage into the liturgy. V’nakei by itself means and cleanses, or acquits, or remits punishment. That’s how the passage in the prayer book ends. But in the Torah the word is part of a phrase v’nakei lo yenakei. The repetition of the verb in a different form (in this case with a negative lo) is an emphasis – he certainly doesn’t remit. It seems the sages decided we should think only of God’s kindness and forgiveness.
I don’t think Moses wanted a sweetened version of the truth of God’s ways. He looked e He HHHHfffffddedeXXXXXXJJJJto the source itself, to find an answer to the question "how does God act?" (Job, with a more direct personal interest, made a similar, though angrier, demand of God. I find it fascinating that the rabbis, in Bava Batra 14b, ascribed authorship of the Book of Job to none other than Moses.) Moses was someone uniquely privileged in his relationship with God, and thus had the standing to make such a chutzpadiker request of the Almighty. A little earlier in our Torah reading today, in Exodus 33:13, Moses says to God: Now, if I have truly gained favour in your eyes, pray let me know your ways – hodi’eini na et derakhekha. Moses isn’t content with that request; a few verses later, taking all his courage in his hands, he asks the impossible (v. 18): Oh let me behold your Presence! – hareini na et k’vodekha.
Now this whole passage is a complex and difficult one, and it is not easy to understand exactly what is going on. But suffice it to say that in the next verse God says: V’chanoti et asher ahon v’richamti et asher arachem. This seems to mean "I will be gracious as (or when, or to whom) I will be gracious and I will be merciful as (or when, or to whom) I will be merciful." Still, it is mystery what the phrase is doing in this context.
For the most theologically startling and interesting interpretation, we turn to the Talmud, Masechet Berachot 7a, where Rabbi Me’ir understands this wording as God’s refusal to let Moses know His ways: V’chanoti et asher achon af al pi she’eino hagon; v’richamti et asher arachem af al pi she’eino hagon. And I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, although he may not deserve it, And I will show mercy on whom I will show mercy, although he may not deserve it.
I find this the most cogent explanation of this wording of any that I have seen. What then is God saying here? It is something like: I will choose to whom I’m going to be merciful; it may have nothing to do with whether that person deserves it; and no human being is going to be able to fathom the principles by which I show or withhold mercy.
I think Rabbi Me’ir is telling us something that is unadorned and authentic: there is no automatic chain of causation between what we do and what happens to us. In the garden, if I don’t water the plants in the summer, they will die. That’s how nature works. But in the world of moral behaviour, things just don’t work that way. It would be comforting if they did, but here Rabbi Meir, like the Book of Job, is expressing that strand of our religion that doesn’t offer this kind of comfort.
If we knew what God’s response to every action on our part would be, life would be morally easy. Every step, every good deed and every bad deed, every prayer, every apology, every plea to God for forgiveness – all would be based on calculation of results. But if that’s not the case, we might wonder what the point of repentance, of teshuva, is?
We have been taught that we must be deep and open and honest in our teshuva before God (in addition to seeking forgiveness from those persons we have wronged). But should our teshuva be accompanied by a certainty that our plea for forgiveness will be not just heard, but answered? On the contrary, I think that we must make teshuva without any knowledge of whether God will be merciful. As Rabbi Me’ir tells us, God will be merciful to those to whom he chooses to be merciful, regardless of whether they deserve such mercy.
It is always tempting to do a moral balance sheet and pronounce ourselves deserving, assuming that God too will recognise our merit and treat us kindly. But that would be a fool’s paradise. We just cannot know. The way we behave, the way we stand before God, the seriousness of our teshuva, these are not acts based on certainty of result; they are acts of faith.