Can G-d Forget His People?

Pesiqta deRav Kahana 17:5

I have a fundamental question to ask you today?  Is it possible for G-d to forget the people whom he foreknew?  Said another way, is it possible for G-d to become so angry and offended by the actions of Israel, that he would forget the very people whom he made into a great nation?  Alternatively, could his fury and frustration with the destructive choices and actions of his people cause him to take severe punitive measures, to the extent of casting them off into a permanent state of oblivion?  Our Sages asked these similar questions.  Reflecting upon times of devastation, such as Tisha b’av, the multiple exiles, and living in a perpetual state of exile, the Sages pondered the possibility of G-d forsaking them because of their sins.  For the Sages, these and other emotionally-charged questions create a unique platform to plumb the depths of their relationship with G-d, the reality, and the very essence of who they are as a chosen nation, and ultimately, determining where the Jewish nation stands before G-d amid affliction and acts of judgment.  For the Sages, midrash study is the vehicle by which they flesh out associations within the scriptures to satisfy their longing for assurance, insight, and understanding.  Midrash is not merely an interpretive or exegetical exercise; alternatively, it is partly exegesis (critical explanation or interpretation of scripture), with a strong relational component, seeking to identify a relationship between various scriptures (Rav Carl, lecture 8).  In midrash, the underlying premise is that every scripture is related to every other one, some more, others less; nevertheless, the Sages were experts when it comes to fleshing out associations within the scriptures as a method of studying relational and theological possibilities.  As we approach and engage any midrash study,  we should not be presumptuous (especially those with limited experience). It’s is critical to resist the temptation of making naïve assumptions regarding what was going through the minds of the Sages as they grappled with textual associations.  For instance, we should not presuppose that our modern worldview resembles the Sages hashkafa, which is unrealistic and illusory; instead, we should exercise self-control, being intentionally and astutely aware of our limitations before contributing to the dialogue.  Engaging in midrash can be compared to one who embarks on a new and exciting journey.  One sets out to discover and experience a new perspective or vantage point, and when one finds it, he or she marvels at the richness, depth, wonder, and beauty of that which was not merely in the realm of possibility before.Similarly, the Sages have a fascinating way of digging up hidden treasure within the scriptures.  However, since we are prone to presuppose our biases or at high risk of interpolation, one recommendation is to study in a group setting for accountability and a more significant brainstorming outcome.  Active participation in this quest for “gold” involves care and patience as a group.  In essence, the group penetrates the text with curiosity and a willingness to collaborate, exercising caution to not deviate from or undermind the original intent of the midrashist, or the authentic interpretations in their original context.  This level of care requires a supreme level of integrity and discipline; ideally, the group would have a Rav as a facilitator.  Notably, one who possesses the knowledge and skills necessary to serve as the group “rudder,” navigating the group away from strong currents, rocks, and hazardous objects that threaten to derail the exploration.  In midrash study, these dangerous objects come in many forms, for instance, a wayward opinion from an outspoken member or extrovert threatening to take the conversation off track, trapping the group from the original context and meaning of the midrashist, which is unprofitable.  If a Rav isn’t available, the group should remain honest about their limitations, and simply do their best to study the text through the eyes of the Sages, carefully assessing their logic as they were stringing together associations to arrive at a relational or theological possibility.   Minimally, every group should appoint an acting facilitator who articulates guidelines and parameters for discussion and seeks to keep the group on track.  Before we begin, I would like to preface this message with a brief overview of Shir Hashirim in Tenakh, as the Sages understood it.  Even though Shir Hashirim is not directly part of this particular midrash, it follows the same kind of logic – namely, that G-d is bound to the nation of Israel, and Israel to G-d, “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine” (Shir Hashirm 6:3, TLV).  For this midrash study, it is imperative to realize that for the Sages, Shir Hashirim contains a specific ideology.  Since Shir Hashirim on the surface is a poetic romance between two anonymous lovers, it appears to be out of place in Tenakh; however, for the Sages, Shir HaShirim is a mashal containing the dynamics of their love-relationship with G-d.  For the Sages, and many of us, despite the canonical process being a human undertaking, the books that made it into the canon ultimately made it there because of Hashem’s sovereign hand in the process.  According to the Sages, since the bible consists of is a divine language (transmitted through Moshe at Sinai), Shir Hashirim is not a secular rendering.  Therefore, the Sages read it relationally, a parable of sorts, consisting of a literary dialogue between two lovers, Israel and G-d, deeply in love, engaging in back and forth conversation in an ideological state of passionate devotion.  Such a remarkable reading of Shir Hashirim has a profound impact on how they read the rest of Tenakh, and how they discover the depth of their relationship and interpolate different texts to arrive at their conclusions.  More specifically, to understand the logic of the Sages is to understand and pinpoint fundamental aspects of their process – namely, their usage of Shir Hashirim in the process, which frequently tells us that the Sages were interested in the relational aspect of textual interpretation.  For the Sages, textual exploration was a duty of the heart in association with their emotional connection to Hashem – a far cry from a hyperrational, humdrum academic process solely involving the mind, as one might presuppose today (Rav Carl, lecture 8).  Therefore, the Sages frequently spring from, refer back, and rely on Shir Hashirm as the underlying premise of their relationship with G-d.  Understanding that the Sages view themselves (i.e.., Israel) bound to Hashem through the covenant is essential for extrapolating hidden meanings within textual associations.  Since every text is related to every other, the Sages can connect scriptures, words, wordplays, and letters to expound on a theology of reciprocal love, dedication, loyalty, devotion, and service to Hashem (Kates, p. 208).  Now, let us move on to explore a midrash passage from Pesiqta deRav Kahana (17:5), where Sages explore the idea of reciprocal love through a concept of mutual redemption, by first asking the question, is it possible for Hashem to forget Israel?  Those of you who know me, know I am a father of seven children.  A day in the life of our family is never dull, though my wife and I rarely experience so-called time alone, and the house is always vibrant and noisy.  Children are incredible blessings from G-d.  Once you have them, it is impossible to imagine life without them.  Our children, as pleasant as they are, possess an uncanny ability to test our patience beyond measure – they can bring the worst in our temper if we are not vigilant about how precious they are to us and in the eyes of G-d.  Years ago, my wife and I were shopping in a department store with the kids, when all of a sudden we realized one was missing!  We frantically began searching – I went one way, she went another, while minutes that seemed like hours were passing by.  My stomach was nauseous, my heart beginning to pound, on the verge of panic, I was starting to imagine the worst – Elkan, Elkan, where did you go?  How in the world could I proceed through life without you?  Moments later, Elkan popped up from under the clothes rack in the area where we were previously browsing.  He thought it would be funny to hide!  I felt as if I instantaneously received a massive injection of relief, which came over my whole being like a rushing wave, engulfing me from head to toe so I could finally breathe deeply again.  Although I was angry at my four-year-old Elkan for pulling the stunt, my son was seemingly lost, but now he was found.  That day was a confirmation that my love for Elkan (and all of our children) is unconditional and immeasurable.  If my love for one of my sons is genuinely inconceivable, how much more is God’s love for His son, Israel?  The midrash begins with a disconcerting verse as Israel ponders the possibility of Hashem forsaking them amid trevail and distress:  But Zion said, “Hashem (3ms) has forsaken me (1cs); my Lord (3ms) has forgotten me (1cs)” (Isaiah  49:14, my translation).  The two key verbs in this verse are azavani עֲזָבַ֣נִי and sh’chaychani שְׁכֵחָֽנִי, both with matching Qal stems, 3ms/1cs perfect forms, a literary emphasis informing the reader that at the climax of suffering, the Jewish people are contemplating the possibility that Hashem has forsaken them or forgotten them.  The 3ms represents the proper noun Hashem, lord, respectively, and the 1cs personal pronoun suffix is Zion, rendering Hashem has forsaken Zion, “and my lord” וַאדֹנָ֖י has forgotten me (Zion).  But can Hashem forget his children; could he leave them to wallow in their blood once again (Ezekiel 16:6)?  We would only have to read the next verse (49.15) to find the answer. Yet, the Sages have something else in mind – something critical and pivotally capable of decisively answering the question.  In this midrash, the Sages associate Psalm 137:5-6 to answer the question, tightly associated with the opening intersecting verse because it covers the same contextual setting – the coming restoration of Israel after laying them to waste (allegedly, not in actuality), that is, temporarily banned from God’s presence.  Rhetorically, the verse reads, “If I forget you Jerusalem, let my right hand forget” (Psalm 137:5, my translation).  The linking of these verses enables the Sages to associate G-d’s right hand with the coming redemption – the dominant hand, a sign of power, authority, dominion, mighty to save and rescue Israel from exile.  Indeed, Hashem forsaking Israel is as nonsensical as Hashem forgetting the skill of his right hand.Verse six contains even stronger anthropomorphism – “may my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you; if I do not bring up Jerusalem above as first of my joy.” (Psalm 137:6, my translation).   The Hebrew verb for “bring up” אַ֭עֲלֶה is a hiphil stem, likely causative, implying Jerusalem is near, and dear Hashem’s heart, the “first” or “chief” רֹ֣אשׁ of his joy, and the idea of the God silencing himself is an absurdity.  In the third chapter of Ezekiel, the ruach enters Ezekiel and tells him that he is going to make him mute as a sign of the terrible judgment that was looming since Hashem was alienating Israel for approximately seven and one-half years until the fall of Jerusalem.  In essence, Ezekiel’s tongue will stick to the roof of his mouth, meaning he is unable to rebuke his persecutors – those who oppose G-d sign –  until Hashem opens his mouth to speak in his authority.  The point is this: Hashem alone is the one who opens and mutes the tongue; therefore, the absurdity of Hashem becoming mute is as ludicrous as Hashem forgetting the people that he loves and the city that He has made the head of his joy.  As mentioned, drawing from the depths of Shir Hashirim, the Sages view their situation relationally, through the lens of the romantic drama, “my beloved is mine, and I am his, and I am my beloved’s, and he is mine.” (Song, 2:16, Pesiqta 17.5).  The idea of “mutual redemption,” as it were, is in view now as the Sages seek to address the original question.  If you are like me, you may have only thought of redemption as being one-sided, meaning that when we – the children of Israel – return to Hashem, he redeems us by the power of his right hand.  According to the Sages, however, redemption is two-fold, per each side of the covenant relationship.  The covenant between Israel and Hashem is unbreakable; therefore, Hashem can’t cast Israel off permanently because he is bound to them despite His placing the romance on hold, or in a temporary state of suspension due to her infidelity.  At this point, the midrash kicks into high gear as the Sages assess the time of redemption for each covenant party, and the midrash conveys an underlying sense of interdependency between Israel and Hashem, not bound by time, but by the covenant bond between the two lovers.  Just as members of an earthly family should never cease to call each other “family” regardless of circumstances, Israel and Hashem belong to each other, the same family, sharing an interdependent bond of love that is truly unbreakable.  It is from this premise – an absolute interdependency – that the Sages can accurately determine that Israel and Hashem are inseparable.  (Braude, xxvii)  For the redemption to take place, the children of Israel must return to him with all of their heart so that He can retrieve what rightfully belongs to him, and they can make him theirs again (Pesiqta 17.5 notes).  The covenant has two parts, and both parties are exclusively bound to each other. According to the scripture, the children Israel and Jerusalem are Hashem’s highest joy, and Israel returning to Hashem enables Him to redeem what was seemingly lost, namely, his people.  The children of Israel belong to him, but they have to choose to return to him to hasten the redemption.  On the other hand, the children of Israel redeem Hashem when they return to him since they reclaim Him as their exclusive G-d and King.  The concept of mutual redemption becomes crystallized when we understand it in the context of the relationship between Israel and God; furthermore, in the Pesiqta, the Sages use Shir Hashirim as a mashal intended to provoke Israel to return to their love, Hashem.  It is through this theology of interdependence (Braude, xxvi) that the Pesiqta builds a case for mutual redemption since they share this unique bond of love and relationship that will inevitably reach its eternal fulfillment.  Lastly, Israel returning to Hashem coincides with Hashem returning to Israel; hence Hashem can’t forsake the one he loves.  The time of Hashem’s redemption is in Israel’s hands because they always have the option to repent and return in this life; however, the midrash alludes to the prophetic reality that Israel’s posture will not be one of remorse and repentance (Deuteronomy 8:14,19), but arrogant and unresponsive to the calling of her lover to return, so it remains, that the mashal of Shir Hashirim is an ideological state, and the time of their redemption is a two-fold reality, “thus says Adonai-Tzva’ot, ‘Return to Me’ —it is a declaration of Adonai-Tzva’ot—‘and I will return to you,’ says Adonai-Tzva’ot.” (Zechariah 1:3).  A key point to note to keep us from being presumptuous is that the midrashic mind is not concerned with Jewish philosophy or advanced theology; the Sages are not that sophisticated.  The midrash antedates Judaism’s turn toward rationalism by centuries – unlike the modern rationalist, it assumes that Israel is relationally and eternally bound to Hashem, intricately and interdependently interwoven with His essence, enabling the midrashist to move associatively, insofar as the parts are related to the whole, versus our familiar propositional-style learning, entailing of definitive statements or assertions that commonly support creeds and doctrines.  Perhaps even more preposterous than Hashem’s forgetting the skill of his right hand, the midrash says, is Hashem forgetting that His right hand is mighty to save, as the Psalmist proclaims, “Your arm is mighty, Your hand is strong; exalted is Your right hand.” (Psalm 89:14, TLV).  As the midrash puts it, Hashem forgetting Israel is like Hashem forgetting how to perform miracles required to execute redemption.  The midrash recalls one of the most distressing times in Jewish history when the Chaldeans took the mighty men of Israel and bound their hands, provoking the question, is Hashem present in our affliction amid the full measure of our sins?  Is the love between Hashem and Israel unconditional, or is it not?  Up to this point, I’ve been arguing that the Sages understood the whole community of Israel as eternally bound to Hashem by a love-relationship that supersedes current events, circumstances, and time.  The midrash seems to provoke the question, albeit rhetorically, in the worst times, even if we – the children of Hashem – are the cause of our affliction, is Hashem still among us, and does He share in our tribulation along with us?  At this stage, the Midrashist could tie multiple associations to link this astounding and impeccable point of comfort for the community of Israel, for instance, “if I go up the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.” (Psalm 139:7).  Or one could associate “in all their affliction, he (Hashem) was afflicted” (Isaiah 63:9, my emphasis), regarding trevail in Egypt preceding the Pesach redemption and the Exodus.  This particular text seems to indicate that Hashem shared in their affliction before the Sinai covenant, so then how much more now?  But the midrash, instead, moves swiftly to Psalm 91, which the midrashist views prophetically, “He will call to me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in distress בְצָרָ֑ה; I will deliver him and honor him” [his request]. (Psalm 91:15, my translation and emphasis).  The Hebrew root for the phrase “he will call,” is קָרָא, which simply means “to call,” similar to another prophetic passage that says “all who call on Hashem shall be delivered יִמָּלֵ֑ט,” or in its context, or “will escape” the coming wrath (Joel 2:32).  At the very least, Hashem shares in Israel’s affliction; alternatively or potentially, Israel can soften the blow or avoid it altogether by calling on Him who delivers us by the power of his right hand.  With a tremendous climatic sense of anticipation, the midrashist ponders whether Hashem can be at ease when his children whom he loves, and His city, the place of his joy, are once again are steeped in affliction? The midrash concludes with a straightforward, resounding statement of unequivocal absurdity; such is possible only “if it is possible to say: He has not remembered his footstool (Zion) in the day of His anger.” (Pesiqta 17.5).In conclusion, the midrash teaches with precision and clarity that Hashem cannot forsake nor forget Israel since He is bound to them by an eternal relationship that is truly unbreakable.  Hashem shares in Israel’s sufferings, which means under no circumstances will He abandon or forsake Israel for good, and He remains near to all who call on Him.  Even when the prophet Ezekiel became a sign of judgment to the house of Israel, displaying that Hashem was preparing to remove the lust of their eyes, that is, the mikdash, there will still room for them to repent to soften the judgment, or hasten the redemption.  Moreover, the midrash depicts Israel and Hashem are two inseparable lovers longing for the erotic romance displayed in shir hashirim mashal, our ideological standard, and example of what could be and will be.  The relational dynamics of Israel and Hashem undergird the reality of mutual redemption – when Isreal repents; she retrieves what is rightfully hers, namely, the covenant promises and all the blessings that rightfully belong to her, at the same time, Hashem redeems what belongs to Him.  Finally, the midrash should be an encouragement to us, knowing that in every generation, Hashem shares in our affliction, and is near to those who call on Him.  Today, we are facing an invisible enemy – the COVID-19 global pandemic.  Currently, the number of novel coronavirus cases is growing exponentially in the United States and the world, afflicting many and leaving a wake of death and destruction in its path.  Now more than ever, we must pray and do our part to stop the transmission of this deadly pestilence.  As we stand united in faith, we can be confident that Hashem shares in our affliction, and remains near to those who call on Him, and with that, I’ll close with another prophetic verse from Psalm 91: “For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler, and from the deadly pestilence.” (Psalm 91:3, ESV).  כִּי הוּא יַצִּילְךָ, מִפַּח יָקוּשׁ;    מִדֶּבֶר הַוּוֹת