Jewish tradition wrestles with this feeling, especially when considering our relationship with the Divine.
Think about it: how can one person chase away a thousand? It sounds impossible, right? Well, Sifrei Devarim, a collection of legal midrashim on the Book of Deuteronomy, tackles this very question. It poses: if we, the Jewish people, don't uphold our end of the covenant – if we don't observe the Torah – how can we expect G-d to keep His promises to us? It's a tough question.
The text suggests that ideally, one of us should be able to pursue a thousand, and two of us, ten thousand! Imagine that kind of strength and resilience! But, Sifrei Devarim laments, when we falter, the opposite happens. One of them – one enemy – can pursue a thousand of us. The tables turn dramatically.
And it’s not just about raw power, but about divine protection, or lack thereof. The text then explores the verse, "if their Rock had not sold them, and the L-rd (had not) delivered them (into their hands)." There's a nuance here that's easy to miss. G-d doesn't actively deliver us into the hands of our enemies directly. Instead, it happens through others.
There's even a rather unsettling example given: flies in Judah revealing people's hiding places. Flies! The seemingly insignificant can become instruments of our downfall.
R. Yehudah of Tivim offers a compelling analogy to further clarify this concept. It's not like a regular sale where you promise delivery later. G-d’s “selling” and delivering – in this case, allowing us to be vulnerable – happens all at once. It's like transferring something unclean into the hands of someone clean.
And that brings us to a key point: the word "delivered" – masgirim in Hebrew – is specifically associated with uncleanness. The text points to Leviticus 13:4, where the Cohein, the priest, “delivers” or “closes off” (hisgir) the plague spot. The priest isn't just handing it over; he's isolating something impure. So, when we are “delivered” into enemy hands, it’s not a random act, but a consequence tied to our own state of spiritual purity.
What does this all mean? It’s a sobering thought. It suggests that our strength, our resilience, and even our safety, are intrinsically linked to our commitment to the Torah, to our covenant with G-d. When we stray, we become vulnerable. The protection weakens.
It’s not about blame, though. It's about responsibility. It's a call to examine ourselves, to strive for greater connection, to remember that we are part of something bigger. And maybe, just maybe, that's how one can truly pursue a thousand.