Love and Fear

Sermon Shabbat Bechukotai 5784, Rabbi Samuel M. Cohon 

Abe is on his deathbed, and he turns to his faithful wife, Sarah. 

"Sarah... Sarah,” he says. “We have been married for 46 years... Isn't that right Sarah?"

"Of course Abe, of course we have," Sarah replies.

"And when I was hit by that truck when we first started dating," Abe says, "You were there for me, no?"

"I never left your side in the hospital, darling," Sarah answers.

"And when our house burned down right to the ground just after we got married," Abe says, "We worked together and saved for years to build a new one, didn’t we, and you were there with me?"

"I was there Abe," Sarah replies.

“And when the IRS audited me out of nowhere, and we had to pay them a huge fine, you were there,” Abe says.

“I was there darling Abe,” says Sarah.

"And now, on my deathbed, you are here with me yet again..."

"I am." Sarah replies.

And so Abe turns to his wife and says, “Sarah, you’re a terrible jinx.”

What is that antique line attributed to Sholom Aleichem in Fiddler on the Roof?  God, we have been your Chosen People for so many years.  Maybe just once you could choose somebody else?

I’ve been thinking about those two jokes this past week when news reports came in criticizing Israel from everywhere.  Thank goodness that jury in New York came out with their verdict this week or who knows how bad it would have gotten in the media and on social media for the Jews?

Which brings me to the Torah portion this week, the very end of the Book of Leviticus, Vayikra, called Bechukotai.  Bechukotai is a final, convenantal section that makes very explicit the agreement that God is making with the people of Israel, us: if we observe God’s commandments we will be richly rewarded with the title and prosperity of our own land of blessing.  And if we do not fulfill God’s commandments we will be harshly punished and lose that land, at least in the short and perhaps medium term.  It is a statement that presages the larger covenant created in Deuteronomy it says: if you do good you will be rewarded with land and happiness.  If you do evil you will be punished in the worst ways you might imagine, including the loss of that land.  The only problem is that most of us don’t believe that things actually work that way at all.  We all know good people who suffer and evil people who flourish.

But here at the end of the Book of Leviticus, Bechukotai puts this contract baldly and very, very clearly.  If we do good, we will be rewarded.  If not, we will be punished.  And that assurance here in the Torah is supposed to motivate us to live good lives, right?  We should act well out of fear of punishment, and with the expectation of reward.

Now, fear can be an effective motivator.  Most of us are motivated in many ways primarily by our fears.  We get our work done out of the fear of failure.  We do it well out of a fear of embarrassment.  We hide our sins and errors because we are afraid of exposure.  We spend most of our lives looking over our shoulders at something gaining on us—a manifestation of fear.  It is fear that drives most of us to succeed. 

We see this in small, petty things as well as larger, more meaningful ones.  We drive our cars just a little over the posted limit out of fear of speeding tickets.  We file our taxes out of fear of the IRS.  We change our diets out of fear of heart attacks or strokes or cancer—or obesity.  We install security systems out of fear of intruders.  We make many of the choices that affect our lives out of a fundamental emotion of fear.

Some fears are, of course irrational.  I’m reminded of Jerry Seinfeld’s comment that, according to studies, the number one fear in America is public speaking.  The number two fear is death. Which means that at a funeral, most people would rather be in the coffin than doing the eulogy…

Some of those irrational fears impact our lives, of course.  Some of us choose not to travel to Israel because we are afraid that bad things will happen to us, although no tourist has ever been injured by an attack.  Some of us fail to take advantage of opportunities that present themselves because we are simply afraid.

Fear can seem beneficial at times.  Fear helps limit the things we shouldn’t be doing in the first place—fear of exposure, or embarrassment, or humiliation.  We limit ourselves out of the fear of the loss of relationships or status.  Fear as a motivation can be powerful.

But fear is also temporary. What we fear in the moment can be swallowed up by other, quite different fears.  Our fear of shame may be overturned by our fear of poverty.  Our fear of embarrassment can be overcome by our fear of loss of status.  Our fear of doing the wrong thing can be outweighed by our need to be accepted.

And fear also fades away in the absence of direct consequences.  When we get away with things we lose our fear of punishment or loss.  When we do things we shouldn’t do repeatedly, or don’t do what we should do for a period of time, we gradually lose our fear of misconduct.

Space and time, too, lessen fear.  A frightening moment becomes less so over time.  It’s like those flashing red lights in the rear-view mirror: in the moment they frighten us, perhaps even change our driving habits for a while.  Why, we might even slow down for a week or two.  But over time, we lose that fear.  Otherwise, we would need far fewer traffic police, and they would need only ticket each driver once in a lifetime.

Fear motivates everyone, to some degree—fear of embarrassment, fear of being wrong, fear of failure, fear of being refused. Sometimes even fear of success.   Fear motivates—but erratically, and with rapidly diminishing returns.  And fear can also paralyze us.  Where real transformation is required, fear of change can prevent any movement at all.

Fear is based partly on experience, and partly on, well, just fear.  It is an emotion that has a life of its own.  As Franklin Roosevelt said during the Depression, “we have nothing to fear but fear itself.”

I’ve always wondered at that famous line.  After all, at that time, America faced many things that were exceedingly frightening— unemployment of 30-40%, the Dust Bowl, starvation on the streets, the rise of Fascism in Europe, fanatics at home seeking revolution—a whole host of very real things to fear.  There was a lot to fear beside fear itself.

And yet it turned out that we could overcome all those problems, and many more—provided we weren’t paralyzed by our fears.  Provided we didn’t lock ourselves into a system of conduct that couldn’t change because of the habits perpetuated by fear.  Provided we could learn from our mistakes, and change, and transform in ways that fear didn’t restrict.

In keeping with Bechukotai’s message, what do you fear?  What fears control your life?  What fears limit and control your life?

And what if there was a different way to get motivated?

What if there was a path, an approach to life that did not require fear.  That came instead out of love?  Judaism makes that promise as well: we are, after all, commanded to love God in the Ve’Ahavta, which we chanted tonight as part of the Shema, to love with all our heart, mind and soul, all our strength.   If we act out of that love, we are promised, anything is indeed possible. 

Love is actually stronger than fear.  But first we must make a choice to be motivated by love instead of fear.

Now—and this is the heart of the matter—think about what it is you truly love.  Who do you really love?  What matters most to you?  What do you really value above all else?

So, what do you love?  Deciding this can take some time—or no time at all.  For most of us, we really do love our family members.  We love some of our friends.  We love some places, and some ideas. Find those people and those things, get them in mind, and keep them there.

Next, decide to commit to what you love.  Really commit to it.  To make it the most important thing in your life.  Because the truth is, it is the most important thing in your life.  Make that love, that ahavah, the source of the strength you need to change.  Because when you make that choice to commit to what you love, to truly commit, then change is easy.  When we make that commitment, to love, we also make a commitment to change what needs to be changed for the sake of that love.

Choose to make what you love the most important thing in your life, and act as though that were true.  Do not be distracted from that course, not even by fear.  Simply make that love your most important priority.  Make that the heart of your actions.  Make the truth of that love the guide for your actions.

If you act with complete commitment to what you love you will not fail.  The changes you make may have unexpected outcomes—often, very good ones—but the very changes themselves will be for the good.  Change through love means starting fresh—simply choosing to act through love, to open yourself to God and to those people and things you love—and so to find the best in yourself and others.  It means simply choosing love over habit, commitment over transgression, choosing to act for the sake of the love that you are dedicated to.

And now the really great part about this: if you choose to be motivated by ahavah, by love, first decide what you love, truly commit to that love, and start to make changes based on that love—then our tradition teaches us that God will instantly help.

Erpah m’shuvatam—ohaveim n’davah, the prophet Hosea has God promise—I will heal them from their backsliding and I, God, will love them freely.  When they come to me in love, I will heal them and love them unconditionally, for who they are now.  More or less, it’s as easy as that.

When you make the decision to act from love rather than fear you will find that you are no longer shackled by routine or imprisoned by habit.  You will find that the goals you seek come powerfully, directly, almost easily.

You will find that you are changing virtually without effort.  That you are becoming someone who really is a little different.  A little more loving.  A little more open.  A little better.  A little holier. 

Fear can work.  But love—love can, and will, transform. 

Poet Michael Leunig explains that:

There are only two feelings. Love and fear.

There only two languages.  Love and fear.

There are only two activities. Love and fear.

There are only two motives, two procedures, two frameworks,

two results.

Love and fear.  Love and fear.

Bechukotai is focused on creating individuals, and an entire community and nation, who are truly good.  It can be done by fear.  But if we are to truly change, if we are to become the people we wish to be, if we are to fulfill God’s wishes and dreams for us, then we must seek to do so through love.

May God give us the strength to love fully and to act from that love, and so to become the people, congregation and nation that we wish to be.