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From the Rabbi:
Approach an Israeli wearing a kippah and ask him “Are you Dati (religious)?” and you may be surprised to hear him say "No." Do you Keep Shabbat? ”Of course!” Do you keep Kosher? “Absolutely!” Do you pray? “Three times a day." But you’re not dati? “No, not at all.” Huh?
On the other hand in America you have many families, like mine growing up, who don’t keep so kosher, don’t keep Shabbos, don't pray everyday, but who will definitely tell you that they are religious and that religion is a central part of their identity. So clearly what we mean by “religious” isn’t exactly the same across cultural and religious spectra. A close look at the language we use actually tells us a lot about what we mean, and our attitude towards religious authority and experience.
The Hebrew word dat דת is used in modern Israel for “religion”, but in scripture, dat means something closer to “edict." In the Megillah we see Achashverosh’s laws and declarations called “Dat” even though they are essentially civic laws which have nothing to do with spirituality, God or any aspect of what today we call religion. Dat is about authority and obedience. So for someone for whom their Judaism is an expression of their identity but not about obedience to authority, they may not identify with the term “Dati”. The familiar line “I’m spiritual but not religious” is rendered in Hebrew, דעתי לא דתי da'ati lo dati - conscientious, not obedient.
The English word “religion” comes from the Latin word Ligare meaning to connect or attach. This is the same root as in ligament - a tissue which connects or attaches two bones together. Re-ligion is therefore a means to re-connect oneself. In this framework, a person’s religiosity is not measured by their obedience but rather by their sense of connection - to God, to community, to self; and so it makes sense that someone could call themselves religious without necessarily keeping the Halacha.
Another word we often hear used to describe a person who keeps the halacha is “frum." This German word is generally translated as it is used colloquially, as pious or devout, and refers to a Jew who adheres to Torah and keeps the mitzvot. The original meaning of the word however refers to a horse which has been trained well and pulls a wagon smoothly and reliably.
In Parshat Re’eh we see a term used to describe the perpetrator of the very worst crime a Jew could possibly commit, missionizing an entire town to idolatry. Such a person is called בליעל - which translates literally to “unharnessed” or “without a yoke”. The imagery of wearing a harness or yoke is a common metaphor in rabbinic literature. The mitzvah of saying the Shema is called “accepting the Yoke of Heaven." It is with this declaration of our faith that we accept God’s Unity and Sovereignty, and pledge our commitment to Him. Putting on our harness. The language of being yoked makes the image of the “frum” horse makes a lot of sense. I can’t let myself run wild, following after my eyes and after my heart. Commandedness demands of us self control.
Bearing a Yoke however isn't just about being obedient and responsible. Feeling “harnessed” also gives us a sense of the effectiveness of our positive actions. It can be very difficult to feel that our efforts to better ourselves and our world are not futile. We pray daily in the U’va LeTziyon prayer, “In order that we not labor in vain." Being harnessed means our hard work isn't lost. When we pull, the train moves. It's no surprise then that the more effort we put in, the more fulfilling our Judaism becomes.
The Beit Hamikdash (which is one of the main themes of this parsha) is all about providing us with the experience of having our offerings received by God. All the good in us is seen. Our contribution really matters.
Even without a Temple, community plays that same role. Each of us makes a big difference and the contributions of every member are evident, especially in a community as intimate as ours. So, thank you to everyone who makes our community so precious. What a joy to be part of a group in which we lovingly bear responsibility to each other and to Hashem. May we all see ourselves as the blessings others see us as.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Shlomo
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