Sometimes, the Torah's elliptical language masks other possibilities. Such as in this week's Torah portion. In the 31st chapter of Exodus: we read: (verse 14) You shall keep the Sabbath for it is holy to you. One who desecrates it mot yumat - מות יומת. As all who do creative work on it, venich'reta - ונכרתה his soul from the bosom of his people.
The traditionalist's translation of the phrase 'mot yumat' is 'will be put to death,' as in saying that such a Divine punishment will be forthcoming if one disobeys this dictum. And likewise, the traditionalist translates 'karet,' the noun form of the verbal 'venich'reta' as 'being cut off' as in from life in the physical sense. But there is a different way to translate the Hebrew, and using this alternative translation results in a far different picture of G-d's intent.
In the Torah, when a verb is doubled in the form that 'mot yumat' displays, the connotation is 'he will surely...' whatever the action of the verb is. Therefore, 'mot yumat' can - and I believe, should - be read as 'he will surely die.'
If this is correct, then what is Hashem trying to tell us? Only that it is the Sabbath that keeps us alive. And everybody who has observed the Sabbath in its fullness, even only once, knows this truth.
Most of us live busy lives - far too busy! In the weekly grind to make a living, not to mention raise children and maintain relationships with family and friends, we can easily wear ourselves out. This is why, after a particularly busy and difficult week, one may find oneself wanting only to sleep in, laze around the house, and perhaps do something passive like watch a movie or a sports contest from one's couch. If this describes you at times, then you instinctively know that you cannot survive on go-go-go all the time. Even our recreational pursuits at times seem stressful - anybody ever obsessed over improving their golf or tennis swing? - and we sometimes feel the need to cast aside those things that we've chosen as our recreational activities.
The Sabbath served that purpose, but of course, its focus is more spiritual than spending the weekend watching football. The best recreation involves connecting with that which is larger than us. That's why the Sabbath-observant, and anybody who has tried such observance, knows of the restorative effect of spending part of the day in active prayer and study, and the rest of the day in just avoiding the things one does the rest of the week. Doing so, refreshes us to face the next week.
As to the second caution, that one's engaging in work - as defined in the Torah - on the Sabbath, resulting in one's being 'cut off' from the bosom of one's people; that can also be read two ways. In the more common reading, where the words are assumed to be coming from the Supremely Judgmental G-d, one hears this, too, as punishment. That is to say, one who deliberately spends the Sabbath doing ordinary work, doesn't deserve to be a part of the People Israel. Now one might believe this, but the words of the Torah can also be read in a much softer tone. Imagine that the preponderance of Jews are assiduously observing Shabbat in all its fullness. (I know, what a concept!) Well if so, the few who are not, are necessarily cut off from the bosom of their people. As a physical reality. If the people Israel is 'busy' making the Sabbath special and you are engaged in everyday activities and you are not, then when are you going to be able to mix with your fellow Jews? When you engage in your weekday ritual of eating in the local deli? Or when you go to buy bagels on Sunday morning, before settling down at the kitchen table with the New York Times like 'all other authentic Jews?'
(Obviously, these are images taken from life in the Jewish diaspora; to those who have caught on and ask me, but aren't you now living in Israel, I can only say that yes, there is a different and far more comples reality here, which I promise to address in a future installment of my blog.)
My reading of the second caution in this verse, then, reads this 'being cut off' from the people as an inevitable and logical result, not as a Divine punishment. So, why do so many - Jews and non-Jews alike - read these two pronouncements as warnings of punishment, rather than simple circumstance?
I think the answer is that, in an essentially lawless world, the idea of an uncompromising lawgiver and -enforcer has a definite attraction. That, and centuries of anti-Judaism propaganda which sought to differentiate the very demanding and judgmental G-d of Judaism with the more forgiving and merciful G-d of Christianity and, at times, other faiths. Although this contrast is absurd if the various faiths worship and serve the same G-d as most affirm, it has somehow stuck over the ages.
Perhaps it is time to lay it to rest. Each religious tradition has its own unique spiritual path to G-d. To differentiate the character of the G-d of Judaism with that of, for example, the G-d of Christianity, is unnecessary and inauthentic. G-d is G-d, and the Jew - yes, even the Jew! - can and should read the Torah's words as emanating from the mind of a G-d of Mercy whose desire is to help us to attain a meaningful life, not to punish us for our failings. Shabbat shalom!
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