The Tree of Life: Cherishing Torah among Christians
“The Law brings death.”
These four little words popped into the zoom chat in a session about decolonizing Christian theology. I stopped listening to the speaker. My heart froze as my ears burned, fingers poised over the keys.
Of all the anti-Jewish things Christians say, this is the one that hurts me the most. Casual condemnation of Torah is the worst. Truly, it feels like someone coming up to my grandmother and spitting in her face unprovoked.
Growing up, my favorite part of Saturday mornings at temple was the Torah service. Together with the congregation, I would chant in Hebrew about how the ark of the covenant would go forth in the days of old. While chanting, adults would lovingly remove the Torah scroll from its modern-day ark, inscribed with Hebrew letters and with an ever-glowing flame above it. Then, one of these grown-ups would cradle the Torah scroll and parade it around the congregation.
As a child, I marveled during this procession as I watched adults stretch out their arms to brush the Torah’s garment (and yes, remembering these scenes conjures in my mind the image of a certain desperate, bleeding woman reaching out). My own father would always reach out with the back of his hand as a mark of respect. Others would use fingertips or a Bible to briefly caress the hem of the scroll. No matter what object or body part touched the Torah, its owner would always quickly bring it to their lips for a kiss. For years, I longed to be mature enough to perform this display of reverent affection.
When the Torah returned to the dais, we would chant again (truth be told, we were singing the entire time the Torah went around the room). This time, we would recite these words in both Hebrew and English:
“It is a tree of life for those who hold fast to it, and everyone who upholds it is happy.
Its ways are ways of pleasantness and all its paths are peace.
Return us to You, Adonai, and we will return; renew our days as of old.”
And for me, that’s what I always thought the Torah was — a Tree of Life. The Torah, the Law of Moses, is what made Jewish people… Jews. It is the tangible incarnation of God’s living relationship with us. It is the wellspring of the Jewish people, the source of Jewish identity. Millennia of arguing about Torah have made Jewish people quite literally “Israel,” or people who wrestle with God. The Babylonian Talmud says that the study of Torah is equal to all the commandments of honouring one’s parents, performing deeds of lovingkindness, and bringing peace between people. This line is even repeated daily in prayer services.
When I think about Jewish history, this idea of Torah being the tree of life grows weightier. If Torah is what made us a people, it is also what has sustained our peoplehood. Jewish people have lived as a diaspora for centuries. As Ahad Ha’am famously remarked, “More than Jews have kept Shabbat, Shabbat has kept the Jews.” This idea goes for all of Torah. We have survived waves upon waves of genocide, ethnic cleansing, expulsion, and forced conversion. Somehow against all odds, we have survived with our customs, our tellings of history, our ancestral language, and our stories about God. We have survived because of Torah.
In this almost literal way, Torah has been the tree of life for us. It has given us a form of immortality. It has allowed our people to cheat death and keep existing when death relentlessly pursues us. More than telling us how to live, Torah has told us who we are, and who we are to be in a world that hates us.
And so hearing Torah perfunctorily maligned is a gut-punch every time. At best, Christians tend to say Torah is obsolete. Old. Jesus replaced it with a better version. At worst, like in that cohort not so long ago, Christians say that it is actually the bringer of death. It is something we need to be rescued from. These comments cause me visceral, almost physical, pain.
How can I explain the beauty of Torah to a gentile, a person who has little experience observing its teachings (or in my case, feeling guilty for NOT observing its teachings). I don’t know how to share my joy in reading rabbinic commentaries puzzling over a bizarre passage. How can I rectify this gross misunderstanding of what the Torah produces? How can I say anything when my heart is frozen, my ears are burning, and the leaders of the session have already moved onto the next topic?
Honestly, I don’t remember what I typed that day in the zoom chat. But hopefully, these words will save me the need to type such a response in the future.
PS — If you don’t know what I mean by Torah, click here.