Freedom is an ideal we constantly strive to reach. In 1986, when he received the Nobel Peace Prize, Elie Wiesel said, “As long as one dissident is in prison, our freedom will not be true. As long as one child is hungry, our life will be filled with anguish and shame. What all these victims need above all is to know that they are not alone; that we are not forgetting them, that when their voices are stifled, we shall lend them ours, that while their freedom depends on ours, the quality of our freedom depends on theirs.”

To be free of any rules is to be lawless; therefore, the rules that bind us should hold us fast to principles and ethics that lead us to our greatest human potential. For Jews, the rules that bind us are Torah. Milton Steinberg, writing for the Traditionalist and Modernist, as he categorized them, explained, “Torah becomes everything which has its roots in the Torah-Book, which is consistent with its outlook, which draws forth its implications, and which realizes it potentialities. Torah, in sum, is all the vastness and variety of the Jewish tradition.”

We begin in Torah in this week’s double portion, Behar-Bechukotai, which brings us to the end of Leviticus. In Behar, we find the famous verse, “You shall proclaim release throughout the land for all its inhabitants” (Leviticus 25:10). Inscribed on the Liberty Bell with the word “freedom” instead of “release,” it still connotes the expectation that humanity thrives in places where freedom from tribulations unleash its greatest human potential.

In Bechukotai (Leviticus 26:3ff) we read, “If you follow my laws and faithfully observe my commandments,” then God will cause you to prosper and be blessed. Our Sages responded. They knew well that prosperity and blessings flowed from God, but they also observed suffering despite faithfulness to God’s covenant.

In the Writings we read from Job, who suffered blamelessly, “His days are determined; You know the number of his months; You have set him limits that he cannot pass” (Job 14:5). In citing Job, the rabbis raised the question: What, if anything, would forestall the end of our days if all was foreseen, and if our days were limited even when we did God’s commandments?

In asking, our Sages affirmed their faith. They embraced what was revealed and accepted what was not. They cited God’s goodness to King Solomon, even above that which God gave to his father, David, “And I grant you also what you didn’t ask for, both riches and glory all your life…and I will further grant you long life, if you will walk in My ways and observe My laws and commandments…” (I Kings 3:13).

Even more, in contemporary times, Rabbi Harold Kushner taught in his ubiquitous book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, that instead of expecting from God what we thought we deserved, God also grants what we didn’t know was also available. Life is hard, and when it hurts, we can still find compassion, unconditional love, and lessons for living. They are God’s “riches and glory,” too.

So we learn that despite failures to preserve law and order, secure freedom, and provide for the vulnerable among us, we are not without hope that those who are still deeply committed to these human obligations can accomplish them. Feeling deprived and depleted isn’t uncommon, today, but such feelings can be compensated by faith’s moral compass and clarity. We have the strength to persist in what we know is always “right and good” (Deuteronomy 6).

From Torah and Sages to Rabbis and Nobel Peace Prize authorities, the sound of the Liberty Bell has not been heard in some time. Though even its echoes are difficult to detect doesn’t mean that it doesn’t resonate all around us. As we close Leviticus and open Numbers, say aloud for all to hear, “Chazak, chazak, v’nitchazeik,” be strong, be strong, and let us strengthen each other. May these words be the beginning of liberty and freedom for all.

L’Shalom,