This summer for the first time Charles and I drove through Vancouver’s Southlands to Deering Island, and walked along the Fraser River Trail.

I thought: how wonderful that Vancouver works to preserve our natural ecological wealth and beauty.

Then I read the interpretive signs that lament the industrialization that damaged the area and led to the urgent need for this too-small park.

Which is the real Vancouver?

Vancouver that partners with the natural environment, respecting the work that other life forms do to maintain the geography in which we work?

Or Vancouver, the international economic mecca that consumes land to employ, house, and feed people, even as we pretend not to?

Which core value drives us – preservation of biodiversity or economic growth? From which perspective should we view our city?

This is sort of like the problem with Parshat Re’eh.

As I read the parashah, I think: these teachings are so beautiful. Create national unity. Don’t splinter into antagonistic subgroups. If you eat animals, remember that every meal takes a life. Extend your hand to those poorer than you. Creditors, forgive your debtors their debts every seven years, so you won’t create a permanent impoverished underclass.

And then I get to the other parts: if anyone tries to lead you away from these teachings, kill them. In fact, destroy their entire city.

Which is the real message of Parshat Re’eh?

Inclusivity, community, socialism, and care?

Or self-protection, violence, and particularism?

Obviously I like the former message. But how can I be sure it’s the correct meaning?

This summer I taught a course to rabbinic students called “Reinventing Theology: An Introduction to Classical Rabbinic Midrash.” Together we learned about the techniques that our great midrashic artists used as they read the Torah. And by “great midrashic artists” I mean our rabbis who created the foundation of modern Judaism in Talmudic times by creating midrash – interpretation – of the Torah.

It turns out that these midrashic artists also found themselves confused while reading Torah. Living in the first five centuries of the Common Era, they were already a millennium removed from the culture that produced the written Torah.  So a literal reading of the Torah did not always line up with their values. Thus they created many techniques for remaining true to the language of the Torah they loved, while reinterpreting it metaphorically.

One of those techniques is called eyn…ela: this word can only mean one thing.

To use the eyn ela technique, you choose an important word from the parashah you are interpreting. It should be an ambiguous word, a word that has several possible definitions or implications.

You take your chosen word, and you do a word search through the entire Tanakh, identifying every context in which the word appears.

Then you make a list of what it seems to mean in each different context.

Then you look over the list, and try reading your parashah with each definition in mind. You notice how the different definitions affect your interpretation of the parashah. You will find that one or two of the definitions lead to interpretations that are consistent with your ethical and theological values.

You choose that definition and declare that when the word is used in your parashah, it cannot possibly mean anything but this.

So, here we go.

The name of our parashah, taken from its first word is re’eh. Re’eh means “see.” Moshe says “See, I place before you a blessing and a curse. Blessing will come if you follow God’s instructions, the specific ones I’m going over today.”

And here exactly is our problem. What are we supposed to see? Some of the instructions look like blessings in themselves, but some of them look like curses. If we see them correctly, are they all blessings? How can defining the word re’eh, help us see?

Let’s take a look.

The word re’eh appears three times in the prophets, in the books of Yechezkel, Yirmiyahu, and Zechariah. In each context it means, “See! See the prophetic vision that I am setting out before you. See what it means about the long time health of the Israelite people.”

The word re’eh appears twice in Tehillim and twice in Eichah. In all of these contexts it means, “God, see me! See how I look towards you. See my faithfulness, see my troubles, and answer my prayer.”

The word re’eh appears three times in the book of Kohelet. In each context it means, “Contemplate! Contemplate deeply with reverence, awe, and love. Contemplate so you may learn how to live wisely.”

When I put the three meanings together, I conclude that re’eh cannot possibly mean anything except: Share the vision of our prophets who preach about sustainable economic equality. Contemplate it deeply, receive its wisdom, and pray that it be fulfilled in our time. The parts of the parashah consistent with this prophetic vision are to be taken literally. Everything else should be read metaphorically, so that they fall in line with the vision.

When Moshe says, “Re’eh: See, I set before you a blessing and a curse,” he is anticipating the vision of social justice described by our prophets. He outlines some of the practices that lay the foundation of economic equality.

Learn to be a unified national group with shared interests. Do not artificially divide people into “pure” and “impure” groups you can ostracize. Remember that every living being counts. Open your hand to those poorer than you. Every seventh year, practice a national shmittah (debt remission) year. Every wealthy creditor must forgive all debts owed to her or him. Do not allow extremes of wealth and poverty to develop.

At the same time, Moshe predicts that we may tempted away from our commitment to justice. So he says: You know what is right. Do not be led astray by demagogues – prophets and leaders who appeal to your emotions rather than your sense of justice. They may try to teach that you are in the deserving in-group. They may offer schemes for getting rich quick without any consequences. If you find yourself yearning for what they offer, kill any impulse that arises to go there. Because: a city or country that is not founded on justice cannot stand. It will destroy itself.

And, this year, we are seeing Moshe’s teaching coming true all around us, in Arab spring uprisings against wealthy dictators; Israeli housing protests reminding the government that domestic issues are as important as national security; U.S. budget troubles blamed on the country’s poor, while leaders fiddle, so to speak; and unemployed British youth attacking police, the closest thing they know to government representatives.

Perhaps when Moshe speaks of destroying those who block justice, he is reminding us that protesting economic injustice is a serious responsibility. So is safeguarding the practices that set limits on the extremes of wealth and poverty that lead to violent revolution.

Both of these are reminders of how far Canada has come, and how far we still have to go, as we mourn the death of NDP leader Jack Layton this week.

I’d like to close with the chorus of a pop song that I fell in love with this summer. This song, Waving Flag, by the Canadian-Somali artist K’naan, is written as a manifesto for youth movements.

When I get older

I will be stronger

They’ll call me freedom

Just like a waving flag.

– Laura Duhan Kaplan, 2011

Image: www.turnbacktogod.com