(It might seem as if this is a comment on next week's parashah, Ki Tetze, but no, chapter 20 of Shoftim (Deut. 16:18-21:9) starts off with the identical five word phrase. While next week's reading addresses post-battle sexual passion, this week's formula deals with its source, i.e., pre-battle fears...)  

 

 וְרָאִיתָ סוּס וָרֶכֶב עַם רַב מִמְּךָ לֹא תִירָא מֵהֶם כִּי יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ עִמָּךְ הַמַּעַלְךָ מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם

and you see horses and chariots, a multitude that outnumbers you, do not fear them, for God is with you, the One who took you out of Egypt (Deut. 20:1)

 

The sight of massed forces is frightful; but we have the God of the Exodus with us. What exactly does that mean? One answer, the p'shat [the originally intended one], in my mind, is that the Exodus story comes to show us God's inclination to teach and rule via terror (there are other answers as well, which we'll explore later on). This isn't the only reference to instrumentalized fear in the parashah; we also find fear utilized as a motivating force in the administration of justice, a central theme of the parashah: 

 

the people when they hear [this] will be intimidated and will not act presumptuously (whatever that means...) any more (Deut. 17:13)

 

those remaining, hearing [this] will be intimidated and will not persist in doing anything like this bad thing among you (Deut 19:20)

 

which echoes almost identically Deut. 13:12, 

 וְכָל יִשְׂרָאֵל יִשְׁמְעוּ וְיִרָאוּן וְלֹא יוֹסִפוּ לַעֲשׂוֹת כַּדָּבָר הָרָע הַזֶּה בְּקִרְבֶּךָ

v'chol yisrael yishm'u v'yira'un...

 

It is not faith or trust in God that will keep people from sinning, rather fear of the punishment, and to be exact in the cases of chapters 13 and 17, the fear of the violence of the stoning to death.  Fear figures in the early chapters of Deuteronomy as well:

 

 הַיּוֹם הַזֶּה אָחֵל תֵּת פַּחְדְּךָ וְיִרְאָתְךָ עַל פְּנֵי הָעַמִּים 

hayom hazeh ahel tet pahd'cha v'yr'at'cha al pney ha'amim 

This day I will begin to put your fear upon the nations (Deut 2:25)

 

The p'shat of פחדך pahd'cha here is "the fear of you," but rendering it as "your fear" helps to locate the source of the fear Israel's enemies are meant to have in Israel itself: yes, Israel is afraid, we are all afraid, and we imagine the solution to our fear is to export it; but it doesn't work: the more we make them afraid, the more we will have reason to fear them (cf., the arms race). It is this consciousness, this awareness of the inadequacy of the desire to scare the enemy that forces us to look for a different understanding of the memory of the Exodus: we were slaves, and we learned about freedom, and in its pursuit, we learned about other kinds of slavery. The fear of God, יראת השם, yir'at hashem does not have to imply the belief in a violent, terrorizing God, but rather a process of faith in which God brings us to a place where we find ourselves living alongside fears and not enslaved by them.

 

Many years ago, I learned from Levi Kelman to make do with, even relish, one meaningful phrase (or even a single resonant word!) in a psalm (this wasn't entirely his discovery; the rabbis of old were sort of doing this when they made midrash by taking words and phrases out of context...). As a card-carrying member of the Israeli secular left, there's not much chance that Adam Keller, the indefatiguable Israeli peace activist, was aware of, let alone inspired by, a part of the first verse of chapter 20 when he used a month of milu'im (reserve army duty) back in the '80's to write anti-war slogans on 143 tanks (for which he spent considerable time in the brig). But the memory of that exploit surfaced when I read it this week: "when you see modern chariots and vehicles of war, and you are in a small minority, don't be afraid, because the God of the Exodus is with you." The same God who allows for the people who are newly betrothed or who just built a new house or planted a new vineyard to be exempted from fighting is also the God that will eventually get through to the priests and officers of this fighting force that there are peaceful alternatives to (this) war.    

 

Shabbat shalom,

 

Jeremy