Going out and coming in – and going out again

Returning from London on Wednesday afternoon, for a few heart-thumping seconds, at around 5pm, you nearly didn’t have a rabbi anymore. It was a classic motorway scenario: I was in the fast lane on the M23, having overtaken someone, looking for an opening to move in again, when a car sped up behind me much too close. As soon as there was a space, I indicated left and started to move into the middle lane. So far, so familiar. But then, unfortunately for me, at exactly the same moment, a large truck, travelling in the slow lane, also began to move into the middle lane. With the car alongside me on my right, and the truck bearing in on my left, I put my foot down and sped through the closing gap…

It was a very near miss. We all know, in theory at least, how dangerous travelling on the roads can be. On this occasion, the danger was palpable – if I hadn’t kept my nerve… well, it doesn’t bear thinking about…

This week’s portion, the parashah, Ki Tavo, is famous – or, rather, infamous – for its elaborate, lengthy description of the curses that God will bring if the people do not keep the commandments: The small print of the B’rit, the Covenant. Before the curses, the text outlines – more briefly – the blessings that will follow if the people obey God. These include the simple statement – at Deuteronomy 28, verse 6: Baruch atah b’vo’echa, u’varuch atah b’tzeitecha – ‘Blessed shall you be in your coming in, and blessed shall you be in your going out.’ Of all the blessings – which mostly centre on fruitfulness and prosperity – this one touches on the risky reality of daily life, every time we venture out into the world.

In every age, whatever the means of transport at the disposal of the traveller, making a journey has always been fraught with danger. That’s why Jewish tradition includes a Traveller’s Prayer, T’fillat Ha-Derech, literally, ‘the prayer of the way’, for recitation before we embark on a journey. I have to confess that I don’t recite T’fillat Ha-Derech before I get into my car. I could justify this on the grounds that my rational self doesn’t believe in the efficacy of such a prayer; that it is actually possible to request Divine protection, and receive it. But the experience of narrowly avoiding being crushed between that truck and that car on Wednesday makes me realise that reciting T’fillat Ha-Derech might work on another level, as a way of acknowledging the potential dangers involved in making any journey. When we go out, we tend to expect that we will return home unharmed – but that expectation is, actually, much more irrational than saying a prayer. Reciting T’fillat Ha-Derech may not protect me from danger, but, perhaps, it could help me to be more aware of the perils of the road.

I mentioned a few moments ago that the name of today’s parashah is Ki Tavo. Taken from the first significant words of the portion, at the beginning of Deuteronomy chapter 26, Ki Tavo means ‘when you come in’, and is part of a longer phrase, ‘It shall come to pass when you come in to the land, which the Eternal One, your God, is giving to you as a possession.’ (26:1a). Interestingly, last week’s portion opened with the words, ‘Ki Teitzei’, ‘when you go out’ – referring, specifically, at Deuteronomy chapter 21, verse 10 to: ‘When you go out in battle against your enemies.’

So, while the blessing in today’s portion says, Baruch atah b’vo’echa, u’varuch atah b’tzeitecha – ‘Blessed shall you be in your coming in and blessed shall you be in your going out’, the sequence of the Torah portions speaks of ‘coming in’ and ‘going out’ in reverse: Ki Teitzei; ki Tavo – ‘When you go out; when you come in.’ The order is clearly very significant in the context of the narrative of the Torah: Our ancestors had to leave Egypt and venture out into the wilderness, before they were ready to come in to the land.

But coming in to the land, coming home, arriving anywhere, is never the end of the story. That verse in our portion today, reminds us that once we have come in, we must venture out once more: Baruch atah b’vo’echa, u’varuch atah b’tzeitecha – ‘Blessed shall you be in your coming in and blessed shall you be in your going out’. There is, in fact, no such thing as coming home, finally, until we die. At funerals, memorial services and stone-settings, we recite – or rather, more usually, sing – Psalm 121. Psalm 121 closes with the words: Adonai yishmor tzeit’cha uvo’echa mei-atah v’ad-olam – ‘the Eternal One shall guard your going out and your coming in, now and always’. We live our lives going out and coming in, continually, until, finally, at the end of our days, we come in, once and for all.

In life, we are always on the move. Home is the place we return to for nourishment, to replenish ourselves, to rest – before venturing out once more. The Jewish custom of leaving a corner of our homes in a state of disrepair reflects the reality of Jewish life, historically; that we’ve always been on the move, and never been anywhere long enough to settle down completely. But it’s not just that Jewish life has always been like this. Life is like this.

And the message is reinforced as the sequence of Torah portions continues: Ki Teitzei; ki Tavo – ‘When you go out; when you come in’ – and then, next week, the double portion, Nitzavim-Vayeilech, opens with the words, Atem nitzavim hayyom kul’chem lifney Adonai Eloheychem – ‘You are stationed today, all of you, before the Eternal One your God’ (Deuteronomy 29: 9). For a unique moment, on the edge of Jordan, the generation born in the wilderness, stationed themselves in readiness to enter the covenant with God. The root of nitzavim – Nun Tzadi Beit – means to take one’s stand. Thinking of English equivalents, we would speak of standing to attention. By definition, standing to attention is related to a specific moment or purpose, which passes.

When the sacred covenant moment passed, the people continued their journey: Nitzavim- Vayeilech; Vayeilech, the key word, which introduces the next portion – often read, like today, as the second part of a double portion – relates specifically to Moses, who went – Vayeilech – to speak to the people about his impending death. And what did Moses say: ‘I am a hundred and twenty years old; I am no longer able to go out and to come in; for the Eternal One has said to me: "You shall not go over this Jordan"’ (Deuteronomy 31:2). Lo uchal od latzeit v’lavo – ‘I am no longer able go out and to come in’; that’s how Moses tells the people that he is about to die. Again: Life is about going out and coming in, continually – until we die.

There are two more portions of the Torah, but significantly, before we continue to read them, we shall pause to welcome the New Year, Rosh Ha-Shanah, which, although a new beginning, takes place in the midst of the cycle of months, at the beginning of the seventh month of the Jewish year, Tishri. As we do on the seventh day of the week, Shabbat, we pause during the seventh month to mark, not only, Rosh Ha-Shanah, but Yom Kippur, Sukkot, and Sh’mini Atzeret-Simchat Torah, before continuing our journey.

Simchat Torah – an ending and a new beginning. When we read the end of the Torah scroll on Simchat Torah, and go back to the beginning again, it feels like we are simply resuming the familiar cycle. We are. But not only that: the sukkah, the simple hut we build and dwell in on Sukkot, flimsy and open to the elements, reminds us that, while the eternal cycle continues, we may sit down and rest, only briefly, before moving on. And more: The impermanent, fragile sukkah teaches us that we are vulnerable and our lives are finite. At some point, like Moses, we shall no longer be able to go out and to come in any more.

For a few seconds last Wednesday afternoon, I thought that I had arrived at that moment when I would no longer be going out and coming in any more. Fortunately, the moment passed: I continued my journey; I arrived home, rested for a while – and then I went out again… As we approach the New Year, look towards the unknown future, and continue our journeys, may the words of blessing we find in our parashah today, encourage and challenge us to make our fragile lives a blessing each and every day:

Blessed shall you be in your coming in, and blessed shall you be in your going out.

And let us say: Amen.

© Rabbi Elizabeth Tikvah Sarah

Brighton & Hove Progressive Synagogue – Adat Shalom Verei’ut

9^th September 2006 – 16^th Elul 5766