Timeless Torah

his week’s reading begins with the command that has forever been a distinguishing mark of Jewish identity, circumcision. The traditional name for this act is brit milah, literally, “the covenant of circumcision.” It is the only command that explicitly binds the Jew to G-d. Clearly this mitzvah which carries immense significance, is less a state of doing than a state of being.

That circumcision, for males, is the primary way in which Jews enter into the Mosaic covenant was already apparent, even to others, in the days of the Patriarchs. Recall the episode in which the prince Shechem abducts and rapes Jacob’s daughter. Dina’s brothers respond, “We can’t give our sister to a man who is not circumcised. That would be a disgrace to us...become one people.” Amazingly enough, the prince acquiesces.

Circumcision is also mentioned in the context of the Exodus and its Pesach sacrifice. “No foreigner is to eat of it...You who wants to celebrate the L-rd’s Passover must have all the males in his household circumcised.”

The paschal lamb was clearly a covenantal meal, one that celebrated Israel’s acceptance of its historic destiny. And to participate, one had to have this physical mark precisely on this part of the flesh. Why? To understand the full depth of this command, we have to move forward several centuries to the prophet, Hoshea.

Hoshea lived in the eighth century BCE. The kingdom had been divided since the death of Solomon. The northern kingdom in particular, where Hoshea lived, had lapsed after a period of prosperity into lawlessness, idolatry and chaos. Between 747 and 732 BCE there were no less than five kings, the result of a series of intrigues and bloody struggles for power.

The people, too, had become lax, “There is no faithfulness or kindness and no knowledge of G-d; there is swearing, lying, killing, stealing and adultery; they break all bounds and murder follows murder.” (4: 1-2)

Like other prophets, Hoshea knew that Israel’s destiny depended on its sense of mission. If it remained faithful, it was able to do extraordinary things: survive in the face of empires and create a unique society under the sovereignty of Heaven. Without faith, it was just one more minor player, whose chances of survival against larger political predators were minimal.

What makes the book of Hoshea remarkable is its opening episode. G-d tells the prophet to marry a prostitute, and see what it feels like to have a love betrayed. Only then can Hoshea have a glimpse into G-d’s sense of betrayal by His people. Having liberated them from slavery, G-d sees them forsake the covenant, and worship strange gods.

It is a powerful passage with an astonishing assertion. Greater than our love for G-d, is His love for us. Ours is a love story between the faithful G-d and His sometimes faithless people. Though often angry, He cannot but forgive, and ultimately He will take us back and renew the marriage vows. “I am now going to allure her... and speak tenderly to her...I will betroth you to me forever... in love.” (2:16)

One metaphor in the midst of this prophecy, with its explicit comparison between our covenant and marriage, must be understood. “In that day,” declares the L-rd, “You will call Me ‘my husband’ (ishi); you will no longer call Me ‘my master’ (baali).

The last phrase is a pun. Baal, in biblical Hebrew, means, husband, but in a highly specific sense, master, owner, possessor. It was also, of course, the name of the Canaanite god, whose prophets Elijah had challenged at Mount Carmel. Baal was the god of the storm, the rain that impregnated the earth and made it fertile. In terms of myth, Baalism is the worship of power.

Hoshea contrasts this kind of relationship with the other Hebrew word for husband, ish. Here he recalls the words of Adam to Eve. “Bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; She shall be called Woman (ishah), Because she was taken from Man (ish).”

Here the male-female relationship is predicated on something quite other than dominance and control. Woman may be in the image of man, yet each is distinct. The only relationship able to bind two separate individuals (without the use of force) is marriage. This covenant or bond of mutual loyalty pledges each to honor the other.

This was radically different from how earlier societies conceptualized gender relations. Ancient cultures placed power, not love, at the heart of human relationships. It treated women as objects, rather than as subjects with equal dignity and integrity. It dishonored the most intimate human bond, and the way we should think of the relationship between human beings and G-d.

G-d reaches out to us not only in power (the storm, the thunder, the rain) but in love. This love is not abstract or philosophical, but a deep and abiding passion that survives disappointments and betrayals. Israel may not always behave lovingly toward G-d, says Hoshea, but G-d loves Israel and will never cease to do so.

How we relate to G-d affects how we relate to others, and vice versa: how we relate to others affects the way we think of G-d. Israel’s political chaos in the days of Hoshea was intimately connected to its religious waywardness. A society built on corruption and exploitation is one where might prevails over right, and where idolatry replaces Judaism.

Now we understand why the sign of the covenant is specifically circumcision. When faith is more than the worship of power, it will affect our most intimate relationships. Marriages will then be built on something gentler than male dominance and a desire to control. Baal must become ish. Sex must be sanctified and its powerful drive circumcised and circumscribed so that it no longer seeks to possess and is instead content to love.