Years ago, for my Bar Mitzvah, my parents bought me my first computer. It worked on Basic. A simple code based on If / Then.

Possibilities were not endless. They were predetermined scenarios. In a way – just like in our Parasha.

Our Parasha begins with a conditional promise: “If you walk in My statutes… then you will know blessing. Rain in its season, abundant harvests, peace in the land.” (Leviticus 26:3)

Then comes the other side: “But if you do not listen to Me…you will face fear, famine, displacement, and exile.” (Lev. 26:14)

It’s a difficult text, harsh, even terrifying. I believe we should read it as moral cause and effect. In the Babylonian Talmud in Avodah Zarah 5a our Sages claim that it is a plea from God, not a threat. “Walking in God’s statutes” does not mean passive obedience, it means active commitment, effort, and constancy. Not perfection but perseverance.

B’chukotai offers us a mirror:  Are we building a society rooted in dignity and justice?  Are we honouring the land, the vulnerable, the sacred rhythms of rest and repair? Are we walking, step by step, in alignment with our values?

Even in the darker passages of B’chukotai, where the text speaks of exile and suffering, there is a thread of enduring relationship: “Yet even then, when they are in the land of their enemies, I will not reject them or spurn them to destroy them.” (Lev. 26:44). God promises: even when you feel far, you are not forgotten.

For me, this is what it means to belong and become in Jewish life: Not to avoid mistakes, but to return. To rebuild. To choose again. We walked through blessing and brokenness, and kept walking. We are still walking.

As we finish the Book of Leviticus, we rise and say: Be strong, be strong, and let us strengthen one another.

May our steps be steady, our hearts be open, and our path lead us closer to the sacred.