The Ethics Of Eternity

Parshas Behar-Bechukosai: Chukim as windows to the eternal

The modern era is characterised by liberty, the freedom to do or be what I want. Yet ironically, we live under a rapidly expanding code of social conventions. Every aspect of our daily life is increasingly influenced by evolving moral norms. Never in history have people been asked to cast their ethical net so wide. The examples are numerous. Our understanding of nation-states as necessary human constructs necessitates caring as sincerely for people worldwide as for our neighbours. Global capitalism means that our purchasing habits inevitably affect overseas workers we will never encounter. Modernity compels us to consider the ethical implications of trivial behaviours in ways no previous generation has done.

These days Lady Liberty does what she wants!

Yet similar criticisms can and have been made about religion. Subscribing to a faith inevitably leaves one subject to expansive legal minutia. Particularly in Judaism, the obscure rationale of chukim statutes can provoke frustration. Chukim are detailed commandments to be scrupulously followed, with no obvious grounding in human reasoning. Such inexplicable demands can be a source of particular aggravation to the contemporary mind. I aim to address these gripes, demonstrating how chukim actually have much to impart in conversation with modernity.

In the opening verse of Parshas Bechukosai, God implores the Jewish people:

If you follow in the way of my chukim and guard my mitzvos, I will grant you rains in their season. This will ensure that the earth yields its produce and the field trees their fruit.

Why does our scripture reference chukim and mitzvos with different vocabulary? The Torah calls on us to guard the mitzvos, the normative commandments. Conversely, we are urged to follow in the way of God's chukim. In answering this query, we will develop the broader discussion at hand.

There are two distinct but complementary facets to a spiritual or moral existence. The first component of spirituality comes naturally to us. It is the level we have already achieved. Maintaining and guarding this current status is essential. Otherwise, we will regress. The second part is aspirational. It is the level we want to get to. This goal-oriented pursuit requires personal effort, dedication and stepping into the unknown. A helpful analogy for the spiritual endeavour is a professional rock climber. While scaling a mountain, he will first want to ensure security in his place but simultaneously look forward to the next ascent. The same is true for spiritual development, in which we must remain mindful of our present state yet still aspire to reach further heights. This intricate balance is essential for growth and progress.

Let's revisit the interplay between mitzvos and chukim from the paradigm we've now set up. Mitzvos are divine commands that can be partially understood. Their nature lends itself to our limited frame of thinking. While we may struggle with or rationalise sins such as slander, we inherently know they are wrong. Similarly, we intuitively recognise doing good to others as positive. These obvious moral positions must be nurtured and reinforced. For this reason, the Torah tells us to guard the mitzvos.

Chukim, however, are beyond human apprehension. Even their basic purpose is esoteric, lying in a space beyond the temporal and finite. But because of this, they are fundamentally aspirational. We will never fully grasp the divine statutes, but we must constantly strive to perform them. They remind us of our spiritual roots, urging us to approach life with reverence and humility. Chukim inspire us to reach for something greater than ourselves and fight towards a higher purpose. For this reason, the Torah instructs us to follow in their way.

How does our enhanced understanding of chok inform our conversation regarding the necessity of Torah law and the malaise of liberal society's ever-expanding rule book? Modernity's vast ethical expectations hide a rot at its core. As political philosopher Charles Taylor puts it, we have become obsessed with moral legislation and have entirely forgotten the need for moral motivation. This is ironic because the more significant the ethical burden society imposes, the stronger the demand for concrete motivators becomes. And yet there is a God-shaped hole in secular humanism's outlook. No aspect of finite reality can place any moral claim on us. Nothing in the temporal sphere demands human virtues or natural rights. Indeed, most of our democratic system's founders predicated its creation on God's existence:

Mortal laws and expectations require we respect others' rights and care for the common good but fail to answer the critical question. Why?

Chukim, then, powerfully remind us that a moral system is not something we just make up. Ethical living is not a utilitarian preference, like choosing chocolate over vanilla ice cream. Instead, it is a fiery claim on the very essence of our being. A chok clearly comes from beyond our understanding, but the truth is even the mitzvos that come naturally to us are rooted in the transcendent. Indeed they have to be because the moment we attempt to justify morality within the physical sphere, it becomes just another preference among many. Mitzvos come from God, our creator, and this is what makes them binding. They stem from an infinite essence we can't hope to fathom. We have to follow the chukim not despite not understanding them but because we don't understand them. Our spiritual journey is not a matter of convenience, but a call to rise to the highest of heights, to seek out the sublime. Eternity is the overall human calling. And the Jewish objective in life.

Good Shabbos, and Keep Pondering