Are We A Religion of No?

One of the famous passages of the Rosh Hashanah liturgy is, “I remember the kindness of your youth, the love of your nuptials, you followed me into the desert, a land that is not planted” (Jereimah 2:2).

This is our way of invoking the trust and devotion to G-d we demonstrated during our national infancy. G-d remembered it many centuries later when He talked to Jeremiah, and we invoke that memory today. It is our way of saying that though we might not consistently demonstrate our love for and trust in G-d, it is in our DNA; seared into us from our youth.

The ordinary meaning of this passage is that we trusted G-d enough to follow Him on a journey into a desert that was not planted. We had no idea how we would feed our young, yet we gave it no thought. We trusted G-d implicitly.

I came across a fascinating interpretation of this passage that opens the door to deeper layers of meaning—meanings not rooted in our past behavior but in the present.

If you read the passage carefully, you will find a redundancy. G-d remembers that we followed Him (a) into a desert and (b) a land that is not planted. If every word in the text is precise, it should have said, a desert that is not planted. Why is the unnecessary word “land” included?

Two Sacrifices
Rabbi Yehudah Leib Eiger once explained that G-d was talking about two separate times when we trusted Him.[1] The first occurred after the Exodus from Egypt when we trusted Him enough to follow Him into the desert. The second occurs whenever we follow Him into lands where the word “no” is not planted.

Before the Jews received the Torah, G-d offered it to many nations. Each refused because they did not want to give up their way of life. One was concerned that the Torah exhorts us to “not” commit murder. Another rejected the Torah because of its exhortation to “not” commit adultery. Yet another refused the Torah for its rule that we are “not” to steal.

The nations did not embrace the words “do not.” To them, the word no was unheard of and unwelcome. No one had ever planted it in their lands. They wanted no part in what they perceived as a religion of no. We embraced the Torah because we understood that Judaism is not a religion of no. It is a religion of G-d.

I once explained that when you plan your route on a map, you are not rejecting the many routes you won’t take. You are selecting the one route that takes you to where you want to go. Selecting a single route does not reject all the other routes. It embraces the one route that brings you to your chosen destination.

Judaism is the religion of G-d. Pursuing every pleasure that catches your fancy doesn’t lead to G-d. It leads to self-gratification. This, too, is a route on the map of life. But if G-d is your destination, you won’t take a route that leads you elsewhere.

Our ancestors went into the desert, a place with no material pleasures—not even basic necessities—because G-d was waiting for them in the Sinai. They chose G-d, and to reach G-d, they had to reject the world’s watering holes of gratification and physical pleasure. It is not a repudiation of pleasure. It is a choice to embrace G-d. Judaism doesn’t say no to self-gratification. It says yes to G-d.

This is why we went into the desert. Going there took a lot of guts, but once our ancestors decided on their destination, that was the only possible choice. It was the only path that would take them to where they wanted to be.

As hard as it was to enter the desert, they found themselves relatively comfortable there during their forty years. They lived in a spiritual bubble of holiness. Their physical needs were provided, and they focused entirely on spiritual pursuits. They were not impeded or mocked by nations who disagreed with them. They didn’t even encounter the pagans. They lived apart in a blissful spiritual oasis.

Imagine how hard it must have been for them when G-d instructed them to reenter the civilized world. To settle into a land that was “not” planted. A land where the concept of “not” doing what you want is unknown. No one ever invested in that enough to discover that it is not a path of no, but a path to G-d. They must have resisted giving up their bubble, their oasis, but they went anyway.

As we now understand the passage, the Torah did not double its words unnecessarily. There were two sacrifices, and both were made because they trusted G-d. The first was repudiating self-gratification to enter the desert. The second was leaving the desert and reentering the civilized world, where no one understood or identified with them. The second sacrifice was harder than the first.

They did it because they had a mandate. This mandate is also implied in the passage. It was to plant the concept of “no” in these lands. To teach the Seven Noahide laws to the nations of the world. To help them understand that a civilized code rooted in monotheism is better than worshipping self-made idols. Worshipping idols that you create is essentially self-worship. If you worship yourself, you have no reason to abide by a code of law, to reject murder, theft, adultery, or cruelty to others, including animals. If these things further your gratification or needs, and if gratification is life’s ultimate objective, why reject it?

The Modern Jew
The Jewish mandate then remains our mandate today. To enter lands, societies, enclaves, and groups not invested in the “no” concept. In the last few years, Western Values have changed before our eyes. The family unit is no longer cherished with many choosing to remain single and childless. Many advocate for the abortion of unborn children often to shield adults from inconvenience. Many argue for the right to end our lives if we grow tired of living. Western values are not what once were.

As hard as it is to live among people who disagree with our values, this is precisely where G-d wants us. We can’t spread Jewish values and be a light unto the nations unless we live among them. We can’t achieve it from the desert—from enclosed communities with little contact with the outside world.

As our ancestors did then, we do today. It requires courage and a great deal of trust. But with G-d, we can get it done. We can turn the “no” into a yes. We can show the world that saying no to self-gratification means saying yes to G-d. Judaism is not a religion of no; it is a religion of yes. In many ways, it is easier today than ever. Today, people understand giving up conveniences for higher causes. People sacrifice unhealthy snacks to be healthy or various conveniences to save the climate. All we need to do is show them that embracing G-d is a higher purpose that makes occasional sacrifices worthwhile.

We invoke this passage on Rosh Hashanah to remind G-d of what we did thousands of years ago and what we do today. So, don’t shy away from talking to people at work or social gatherings about your Jewish values. Don’t be afraid of standing out. That was the very fear our ancestors overcame when they emerged from the desert with their unique values. Eventually, they showed the world that their values were not weird but enlightened. That they were way ahead of their times.

The same applies today. Don’t be afraid of being outed as a Jew. If you are proud of your Jewish values and discuss them openly, your non-Jewish neighbors and colleagues will soon be proud of you, too. They will see the wisdom in your values and learn to embrace them. You will become their light.

[1] This is cited in Iturei Torah on Rosh Hashanah. I have not found it in Rabbi Eiger’s writings.