Why the Law?

“Why the Law?” (Galatians 3:19)

So begins Pope Francis’ recent homily on the Torah—the law of Moses. It is a homily that has drawn the ire of many Jewish leaders, but the opening question is a good one. I’ve never read Galatians, but I can say as a rabbinical student at a progressive non-Orthodox seminary, that “why the Law?” is a question asked with great regularity and answered with great variety by the current and future leaders of the Jewish world. 

Before I get to that question, however, I want to address why so many Jews take issue with this homily. 

The first problem, which was articulated by Israel’s Chief Rabbinate, is that the homily implies that Christianity nullified or superseded the Jewish people’s covenant with God. After Christ, the Pope writes, those who still clung to the Law “were going backward.”

This kind of theology smacks of a Pre-Vatican II world, one in which tensions between Christendom and the Jews were generally much higher. Moreover, the idea that the Jewish religion has been invalidated by the Christian one is a bedrock trope of antisemitism. 

The second problem is the implication that God nullified the Law of the Torah because it was too exacting to feasibly live by. Quoting Acts, the Pope calls the Law “a yoke upon the neck” and a burden “which neither our fathers nor we have been able to bear” (15:10). 

This rubs Jews the wrong way for two reasons. The first is that plenty of Jews live by the Law and don’t find it too heavy a burden at all. Second, the subtext here is that God had to nullify the Law (and sacrifice his son) because the Jews were being sinful. This is our second antisemitic trope so far and we’re not done yet. 

The third problem is that the Pope states bluntly that the Law “does not give life.” 

This is our third antisemitic trope—the idea that Judaism is not a religion at all but rather a lifeless and formalistic legal code with no spiritual substance. 

How are Jews to understand all of this if not as an insult to the very heart of our shared spiritual and communal life? 

Indeed, that is what I hear in the homily as well, but what troubles me most is the sheer hypocrisy of it all. 

If Pope Francis would like to ditch the dry deserts of the Law for the lush hinterlands of the spirit, he can start in his own backyard without any reference to the Jewish Torah. 

He might, for instance, let queer people get married. 

He might also let priests get married. 

He might let people get divorced.

He might let women serve as priests. 

Catholicism is not devoid of Law. They have plenty of it, some of it which is quite clearly a burden too heavy for the people to carry. 

Pope Francis would be better off admitting that it is not truly possible to abolish the Law. Just ask a Reform Rabbi what he or she thinks about “Thou shalt not murder” and you will see that we all live within a system of “Thou Shalt” and “Thou Shalt Not.” We simply draw the boundaries differently. 

It is true that the Law is a yoke, but not in the way that Pope Francis seems to believe. Law in Judaism evolves with time. This is true for all forms of Judaism, even Orthodoxy. 

In each generation, the sages of the era interpret the Law in the light of the spiritual needs of the day. Through deep study of the Torah, our sages discover how best to understand and live its teachings. It is to this process that we are yoked, not to some monolithic, oppressive, and unfeasible legal code.

Which brings me back to the opening question, “Why the Law?” 

In a lecture at Hebrew College last week with the wonderful Rabbi Art Green, we learned of a Kabbalistic idea according to which the universe passes through consecutive 6,000-year cycles, each one ruled by a different divine attribute. In each of these cycles, the Torah is given in a new form, its pure and holy light refracted through the reigning divine attribute of the time.

It is the aspect of Judgement that gives us some of our holiest sparks. It is what makes us demand justice. It is what pushes us to fight for a world in which the rights of the stranger, the widow, and the orphan are protected. 

The 6,000-year cycle in which we currently find ourselves is ruled by the divine attribute of Judgment, Din. For this reason, our Torah appears as it does, as a book of “Thou Shalt” and “Thou Shalt Not.” 

Hearing this, the gathered rabbinical students let out a little sigh of disappointment. Wouldn’t it have been better if we had been born in the cycle of Loving-Kindness, Chesed? Or of Glory, Tiferet? What would our Torah have looked like then? 

This is, however, not worth sighing over. It is the aspect of Judgement that gives us some of our holiest sparks. It is what makes us demand justice. It is what pushes us to fight for a world in which the rights of the stranger, the widow, and the orphan are protected. 

After all, the spirit may give inspiration, but inspiration is a vague and insubstantial thing. Without an outlet, it is bound to dissipate into nothingness. Here, then, is your answer to the question, “Why the Law?” The Law is that outlet, through inspiration becomes action, and action becomes inspiration.

Matthew Schultz is the author of the essay collection “What Came Before” (2020). He is a rabbinical student at Hebrew College in Newton, Massachusetts.