
The Torah weaves throughout its entire telling a thread of interdependence. That is at the root of what it means to be in covenant, in relationship, as we are with God, with the earth, and with each other. Through midrash, the rabbinic way of story-teaching, the rabbis imagine God telling the first human, and therefore every human of every generation, “do not damage or destroy my world, for if you do there will be none to repair it after you.” The comparison of the human to the tree becomes a commandment against wanton destruction of nature and of all things. If we are not to destroy a tree, then all the more so are we not to destroy a human being. Every person is a tree of life, veins within radiating outward from a heart filled with the blood of life, arms outstretched in prayer as branches of a tree reaching toward heaven. All life is woven together as one.
Bereft and empty for all to see, our bodies and our homes, so easy for others to point a finger and flee. Suddenly there are ripples of understanding upon the surface, as God’s breath once upon the water, light glinting, luminous. That is precisely the lesson of these portions, not to flee in fear and disgust from those who need us most, to turn toward and not away from those who suffer. A powerful midrash asks, why do tribulations come into the world? As though to disabuse us of the urge to blame, to point a finger and run, the midrash answers its own question, because of those who see and look and say, one who sins is stricken and the one who does not sin is not stricken. The all too common urge to blame the victim is turned on its head. Fearful and facile in our attempt to find order amidst chaos, to isolate all that threatens our ways and wellbeing, we turn away from what most gives meaning to life, the opportunity to help another, to foster human connection. In the midrashic mirror, we suddenly realize what we are seeing, a plea for interconnection. The source of so much pain and tribulation in the world is a lack of compassion that comes of finger pointing and blame, when all around and within there is such yearning for embrace. It is those who blame the victim that bring tribulations into the world by adding to the suffering of the afflicted. The lesson becomes clear; while we cannot remove all pain and suffering, when compassion flows we become a source of solace and strength in the face of suffering. Walking together on the path of life, roles blur and interchange, the afflicted and the comforter, each one a mirror for the other.
Telling of the interconnectedness of all life, compassion flows as a thread through these Torah portions. The way of compassion eases suffering and pain and removes the added tribulation of loneliness and guilt from the world of those who suffer. Branches upon our skin, veins within, we see each other in the mirrored image of our selves, each one a tree of life.
Rabbi Victor H. Reinstein
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