Dvar Torah Parsha Balak 5783

Bamidbar 22:2 – 25:9

“Behold It Is a People That Dwell Alone” Our Torah portion is Balak. It begins with Balak, king of Moab who is concerned about the Israelites. He sends for Balaam, a fortune teller for hire to prophesy against them. Balaam is an interesting character, obliged to no one, but he will prophesy for anyone who is willing to pay the price. From Pethor in Northern Syria, Balaam, son of Beor is one of the characters according to the Torah, Women’s Commentary who is mentioned outside of the Torah, in an inscription on a wall from the eighth century BCE east of the Jordan River describing the night visions of Balaam son of Beor. In our Parsha we also see the talking ass, a she-donkey who can see the angel of Hashem even when Balaam does not.

While he has been hired to curse the Israelites, instead Hashem speaks through him blessing Israel, not once, but three separate times. In battle Israel prevails, but the people at the instigation of Balaam sleep with the Moabite women and they worship foreign idols. Phineas catches one couple and impales them. A plague kills 24,000 more. In a battle with the Midianites, five kings are killed along with Balaam. We learn in Sanhedrin 90A that Balaam is one of four non-royals denied a place in the World to Come.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks observes the nature of a prophesy coming from an outsider. There is a principle in Proverbs 27:2: “Let someone else praise you, and not your own mouth; an outsider, and not your own lips.” Tanach demonstrates this principle, choosing to record for history our faults, not our virtues.

I want to focus on this prophecy by Balaam in Bamidbar 23:9:
“As I see them from the mountain tops,
Gaze on them from the heights,
Behold it is a people that dwell alone,
Not reckoned among the nations.”

The Sages addressed this concept of being alone among the nations. Ibn Ezra saw us as a nation who would stand alone and not intermingle with other nations who would try to overpower us and try to get us to give up G_d’s Torah. Rashi saw it as a prerogative to dwell alone for we alone are destined to inherit the world. Ramban says our culture and creed will remain pure, not a cosmopolitan mix of traditions and nationalities. Some have argued it is our destiny that Israel be isolated as if antisemitism were a given. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks disagrees, and I concur. Rather the prophets suggested the day would come when others would eventually recognize Israel’s G_d and come to worship that G_d.

While I’m not certain of that, I do know that others are drawn to us, not by lofty words of the hereafter, but rather by our real concrete actions here on Earth. We are called to repair the world. We see this in our actions as a caring committee, looking out for each other. We demonstrate it through acts of loving kindness, our Gemilut Chasidim. I remember many years ago, long before my own conversion to my Jewish family, I was in my senior year of high school when I had a serious motorcycle accident which left me in the hospital for three months. A Jewish friend and his mother came to visit me several times, and it meant the world for me. As Jews, our journey may be singular, but our interaction with the world outside is very real and ongoing.

I hasten to add that we are not, nor should we be an evangelical faith. Rather the intent is along the lines of Tikkun Olam, changing the world as we go not through words or evangelism, but rather in loving acts of chesed, teshuvah, those things we Jews are called to do in our daily life. Antisemitism is born of actions in response to our failure to assimilate, first with the religion of multiple gods from Greece or Rome, later from early Christianity in a move to separate themselves from their Jewish roots.

So it has been that we are a people, united as a nation even as we have dwelled in nations around the world. I am an American, but there are brothers and sisters around the world, united as a people. We do not share a common everyday language, but we do share Hebrew and have had other vernaculars such as Yiddish, Ladino, etc. What then, makes us a nation? Rabbi Saadia Gaon in the tenth century CE offers we are a nation by virtue of our laws, aka the Torah. Rabbi Sacks points out that only with Judaism do we have a one-to-one correlation between nation and religion. We are many ethnicities, a nation united by our belief. There are a host of practices by Jews around the world, Sephardic, Ashkenazi (including Haredi, Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist), Beta Israel from India, Ethiopian Jewry, Mizrahi, and others. But among all of these, a Jew is a Jew is a Jew.

Perhaps because we are a distinct nation and will not assimilate, we have been a target wherever we reside in the world. Even in America, where we fared rather well following WWII, we are now seeing a disproportionate rise in antisemitic acts and hate crimes here along with the renewal of dog whistles and tropes, some centuries old. It seems to align with an increased reliance upon a host of conspiracy theories overall.

One thought, however. We as a people have been around ever since the 12th century BCE. Great civilizations, nations have risen and fallen. Here we are, following a centuries old Torah, we remain. Certainly, that Torah is interpreted in ways radically different from when the words were first committed to writing. But they are the same words, and our peoplehood is very much intact. We continue to interact with others of all walks of life and do not isolate. But as Balaam states in his prophetic words, as a nation we stand alone. Baruch Hashem!

Dvar Torah Parsha Chukat 5783

Bamidbar 19:1 – 22:1

Mortality and Miriam as Prophet

If I were to name one consistent theme in Parsha Chukat, it might be seen as a treatise on death and dying. We begin with the ritual of the ritual of the Red Cow, without blemish to be slaughtered by a priest outside the camp, ritually doing a purification offering, then ritually burning the carcass, storing the ashes to be used in the waters of lustration. These waters of lustration are used in a purification ritual for those who encounter death.

This is followed by the death of Miriam at Kadesh. It was the 40th year in their wilderness journey. Miriam, Moshe’s sister had been there for Moshe all along the way. It was she who watched her baby brother, ensuring that she could be there to see him rescued by Pharoah’s daughter. Miriam led the women, timbrels in hand, as they crossed the Reed Sea. It was she that the water followed through their journey in the desert. Though given little space in a Torah written by men in a patriarchal system, it is clear she really was a prophet of the highest order. Besides Miriam, according to the Torah: Women’s Commentary, the only women whose death were recorded were Sarah, Rachel, and Rebekah’s nurse Deborah. In these last three stops, we see the death of Miriam and Aaron in this parsha, then Moshe himself. In six of seven mentions of Miriam in Torah, she is mentioned as a leader. All this suggesting it seems to a more elaborate tradition that has not been preserved.

In contrast to her innocent death, Aaron and Moshe’s death are a result as it is told are a punishment for the incident at Meribah where Moshe seems to take credit for the well after striking the rock in his frustration because the people, fearful from their lack of water, cry out to Moshe. Hashem says to hold out his cane and the water will come forth. Instead, he rebukes the people and strikes the stone. Now here I tend to take some issue. Yes, he spoke in anger and struck the stone. But come on, Moshe and Aaron had just lost their beloved sister, who in my mind’s eye, had been the silent force behind her brothers. I’m no stranger to grief, and I know that a common emotion accompanying the grieving process is anger. He may have been leader and held to a higher standard, but he was a human being, as was his brother Aaron. Perhaps we read it as a punishment when indeed they were both quite old. After all, Moshe was 120 when he dies soon after.

The parsha goes on to see the death of Aaron, another rebellion of the people followed by an attack of snakes, headed off by a copper serpent in the hands of Moshe, and a series of battles taking them to the border of the promised land.

Throughout this parsha, we are dealing with our finite human life on earth. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks of blessed memory reminds us according to Abraham, we are mere dust and ashes. Blood represents life, and the heifer like blood is red, but reduced to ashes. Water on the other hand, represents life. The ashes are dissolved in “living water” and from water comes purification or new life. In our parsha, one is impure for seven days. But with Aaron, the mourning lasts for 30 days. This verse is one of two which provides for the Biblical precedent of shloshim.

Today, we see remnants of these old traditions in our grieving process. In the first seven days, we sit shiva, and ingathering of friends and loved ones to care for those mourning, a gentle reminder that they are not alone. Nearing 76 years of age, I’ve seen a lot of death in a lifetime. When my beloved Skip passed away, I was in a sort of haze, not sure if life would ever continue. It was that circle around me, those who knew and loved me, who helped hold me up until I was strong enough to do it myself. At the time, I hardly knew they were there, but in retrospect, I know what a real blessing they were. They were my waters of lustration, bringing life in the face of death. It was they who enabled me to see life ahead despite the suffocating grief in the face of one I loved so deeply. Grieving of course does not end in a week or a month, and the work continues. But they enabled me to see a future of possibility beyond the depths of despair.

Also however, my own mortality looms. After the loss of Miriam and Aaron and fully knowing that he (Moshe) would be dying soon, I wonder what was Moshe thinking? At the age of 76 in July, I know I often think about that real possibility my days are numbered on this earth. But until that happens, I have today, this day in which I am fully alive! I think of how I use my time. Despite my infirmity, there is much still to be done. No, it will not be completed, but making use of that time between now and then is the very essence of life itself.

From the Unetaneh tokef prayer during the High Holy Days, we are “a fragment of pottery, a blade of grass, a flower that fades, a shadow, a cloud, a breath of wind.” We pass on, but Hashem is life forever. It is not for us to complete the job, neither myself nor the greatest among us. Nevertheless, it is our job to move us towards that promised land, that better world for us all.

L’chaim! Baruch Hashem! ֿ

Dvar Torah Parsha Korach 5783

Bamidbar 16:1 – 18:32

Leadership: For Service or Power?

Our Parsha Korach describes two separate power struggles. First, we have Korach, a Levite, who is challenging Aaron’s exclusive right to make ritual offerings to Hashem, even though the instructions came directly from G_d. At the same time Dathan and Abiram, descendants of Reuben challenge Moshe’s ability and authority.

So, let’s look more closely at these leadership challenges. In Chapter 16, all three join forces with along with 250 representatives of the chieftains of the community. They insist all the community are holy and Adonai is within their midst, asking why Moshe and Aaron raise themselves above the rest. Moshe after falling on his face (prostrates himself) and says Hashem will decide all in the morning. He instructs Korach and his band to take fire pans and the next morning to place incense. He also tells them they have gone too far. It was after all, Hashem who elevated him and Aaron.

Moshe then sends for Dathan and Abiram, but they refuse to come. They rather complain bitterly of Moshe’s leadership. The next morning, all gather at the Tent of Meeting. Adonai’s presence appears. Hashem tells Moshe to stand back so he can obliterate them all. But Moshe speaks once again for the entire community, asking, when one sins, should the entire community bear the wrath. Adonai then through Moshe instructs the entire community to withdraw from the abode of Korach, Dathan, and Abiram and touch nothing that belongs to them. The people move away. Moshe tells them whatever will come is not from him, rather from Hashem. Korach and his people try to offer incense and are annihilated at once. An earthquake swallows Dathan and Abiram and their people, gone to Sheol alive in the realm of the dead.

In Chapter 17, firepans used by Korach and his people are made holy by Hashem. Perhaps by the holy fire that consumed them. The silver is hammered out and becomes a part of the altar. The next day, the community rails against Moshe and Aaron for causing their deaths. Hashem threatens to annihilate them all, but Moshe takes a firepan, adds incense, and goes to the people to make expiation. A plague begins, but Moshe stands between the people and the dead until the plague ends. 14,700 died. Adonai has Moshe take one staff from each tribal chieftain, inscribing the name of each of the 12 chieftain’s name on their staff. They are deposited in the Tent of Meeting. Aaron’s staff is chosen, and it blooms for all to see.

In Chapter 18, we learn of sacrifices and who can partake of each. Also, the redemption of the first born, both animals and human. Laws regarding tithing and the role of Aaron’s offspring forever going forward. If the people obey Hashem’s laws, they will live.

In our parsha, Korach sees the priestly service is all about social standing, a public display of sorts. Moshe tries to argue otherwise. On the one hand, Moshe who has lived a life of service to the people under his command, on the other Korach, Dathan, and Abiram who seek prestige and status. Even as G_d’s anger is kindled against the people because of their actions, Moshe tries to dissuade Hashem from destroying them all. Or as Rabbi Jonathan Sacks suggests, Moshe and Aaron sought truth, while Korach and company sought victory, status for themselves. Moshe demonstrated humility and service as a leader, while the other side sought power over others. To quote Dr. Martin Luther King, “Everybody can be great…because anybody can serve.”

I look at this story, and realize we are living this kind of struggle in our own time. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks refers to Korach as the first populist. Populism, he says is the politics of anger. It appears in times when there is widespread discontent towards those in power who they see as working in their own interests rather than for the common good. This discontent leads to rejection of the current system and seeking a leader who will be the panacea for all their ills. Today, populist movements are the highest since the late 1930’s. It was the key to the rise of Hitler and Mussolini, and today even in America we here talk of revolution with slogans like “Make America Great Again”, a re-emergence of the same slogan by fascists in America in the 30’s. Truth becomes the greatest fatality in such times. Scapegoats are found to explain all those perceived failings. Populists claim they and they alone have the answers to the problems of the people.

It is not that argument is wrong. In Mishnah Avot 5:21 we learn, “Any dispute for the sake of heaven will have enduring value, but every dispute not for the sake of heaven will not have enduring value. What is an example of a dispute for the sake of heaven? The dispute between Hillel and Shammai. What is an example of one not for the sake of heaven? The dispute of Korach and all his company.”

May our voices speak truth in response to the false narratives of our day. In a world where trans people, drag queens, Jews, Muslims, Black and Brown people have become the enemy of the purveyors of falsehood, may we speak boldly and fiercely our voices of truth in response. We must not let the false narratives prevail. Our very experiment in democracy fails if we fail in this endeavor. We must confront made up truths with reality. May truth prevail! Baruch Hashem!

Dvar Torah Parsha Shelach Lecha 5783

Bamidbar 13:1 – 15:41

Codependent on G_d? Or Trauma?

Our parsha this week is Shelach Lecha. In our parsha, lots happen. One is sending 12 scouts to check out Canaan. They return saying that indeed the land is a rich one of milk and honey, with grapes, pomegranates and figs. But ten of the 12 sent there say it is a land of giants, and the cities are powerful and well-fortified. It would, they say, be too difficult to conquer. Only Caleb and Joshua dissent. The people begin wailing, again arguing why did they leave Egypt. Caleb and Joshua rend their clothes, pleading they can defeat these people. Moshe and Aaron fall on their faces in prayer. They must not rebel against Hashem! G_d is furious and threatens to wipe out these people. Moshe though pleads for them, reminding Hashem that if this threat is carried out, it will be said elsewhere that their G_d could not control his people.

Adonai promises to spare the people, but they must wander the desert until most of the adults who left Egypt have died. The ten unfaithful spies are struck down on the spot from a plague, but Caleb, Joshua, and the Levites are spared. They must wander for 40 years, one year for each day spent on the scouting mission. After hearing this, some decide to march on Canaan anyway, but as Moshe warned, they were struck down by the Amalekites and Canaanites for Hashem was not with them.

Moshe then learns from Hashem what they must do upon entering the land, a set of laws to be followed. All except the last is about sacrifices. We hear of offering the first dough (Challah) and the wearing of tzitzit. Just before that, the story is told of the wood gatherer who violates Shabbat and is stoned by the community. The law of wearing tzitzit perhaps is there to remind him not to do that.

So what’s with these 10 of 12 men who warned against entering the land? Plague seems a heavy price for what they did. According to Etz Chaim, the Torah period is marked by two flagrant sins: worshiping the golden calf and the lack of faith by the scouts sent to check out the land of Canaan. According to Maimonides, the time was needed to be schooled in courage. Only when the enslaved people died off would the people be ready.

Now we know that certainly the land had been promised to them by Hashem. So why were they fearful? Had they not already witnessed the miracles by Adonai, including leading them out of Israel and later prevailing against those who attacked them? Rabbi Jonathan Sacks of blessed memory in one dvar argues it was not a lack of courage or confidence or faith. Rather they misunderstood their role. The Torah never uses the word “spy”, rather to just see what all was going on in the land. They behaved rather as spies, seeking out the hardships and hence the negative report which caused the people to lament and doubt.

The Lubavitch Rebbe suggests something quite different, however. One that resonates with this writer as well. Those sent were not picked at random, rather they were tribal leaders, not given to fear. They were not afraid of failure, rather success. For all this time, the people had roamed the desert, and Hashem had given them Torah, food, sustenance, and in constant contact with the Shechinah in their presence every step of the way. They knew when they entered the land, they would then be responsible for their own sustenance, worrying about crops, maintaining an army, everything that is needed to responsibly hold together a community. They were afraid of success and the change it would bring about. They did not understand that Adonai required what Midrash calls “a dwelling in the lower worlds.” Our role as Jews was to live, relate in the real world as a model for others. Imperfect, messy, not an isolated existence in the desert. Mishnah Avot 2:2 maintains that “Torah study without an occupation will in the end fail and lead to sin.”

While this explanation resonates, I might add another factor as well. All these leaders and they people who complained had lived under harsh servitude under the Egyptians. Indeed, these very leaders were chosen because they had endured floggings to prevent the people under them being flogged as well. That they left Egypt at all was remarkable, but still there were obstacles to overcome including crossing the Reed Sea and fierce battles with Amalek. In Egypt, they were dependent on their Egyptian masters, and in the desert, dependent upon Hashem for food and water. In short, personal responsibility such as described by the Lubavitch Rebbe was daunting.

But also, imagine for a moment what trauma they carried within their souls from all they had experienced. I can speak with some authority on how trauma shapes a person. I’m a trans woman who transitioned many years ago. I lost family and friends, and to this day I remember a confrontation I had with a police officer in the women’s restroom. But there were other traumas too. Bullied as the queer kid in my childhood. Like choking in a public speaking engagement at age 13, and I was not able to confront it head on until this year, at age 75. Nowhere near the trauma experienced by these Israelites, but they have shaped me in in so many ways.

I do not agree with Hashem’s decision to kill them, even as I do understand the requirement for that generation to pass on, even if they were leaders. In today’s world we view those who have experienced trauma in a different light. There are counseling opportunities for those who experienced traumatic situations, counseling for PTSD. In the time this parsha was written though, none of that existed. These people looked like giants to these leaders, despite G_d’s promise that the land would be theirs. It meant forty years wandering the desert. Joshua and Caleb experienced trauma differently, offering hope and faith. Keys for us to heal or at least grow from our traumatic experiences. But I must wonder, how might I have seen these people in the land of Canaan, having experienced what these men had gone through? Also, a question to ponder. What might the response have been if women were sent to scope out this land? Baruch Hashem!