Forgetting one's troubles?

Vayigash

Genesis 44:18 - 48:27

Précis: We approach the end of the Joseph saga. Benjamin is being held by Joseph as the alleged thief of a gold cup. Judah comes near (vayigash) Joseph, and begs for his brother’s life, offering himself as a substitute. Joseph is overcome and reveals himself to his brothers, forgiving them for selling him into slavery, stating that it was all part of God’s plan. Joseph sends them back home to bring Jacob and their families down to Egypt in order to survive the upcoming famine. They comply, and Joseph arranges for them to reside in the land of Goshen, living off “the fat of the land” at Pharaoh’s insistence. During the remainder of the famine, Joseph purchases land and cattle for Pharaoh, making serfs of the Egyptian people in exchange for the grain stored during the seven years of plenty. The Israelites prosper and multiply.

Gen. 45:3 “And Joseph said to his brothers, “I am Joseph. Is my father still alive?’”

            As Bruce Kadden has asked, (10 Minutes of Torah 12/17/12) “Are there any more moving words in the entire Torah than the question Joseph asks immediately upon revealing his identity to his brothers: ‘Is my father [really] alive?’” Joseph has spent decades hiding his identity and disassociating himself from his family.This seems a rhetorical question, since his brothers have spoken about their father repeatedly. Of course Jacob is still alive!

             I have always been concerned by this question in another way which speaks to Joseph’s reputation as a righteous man. How is it that he never contacted his father in Canaan during his years of rule in Egypt (at least nine years at the time of his reunion with his brothers)? Could he not have sent a messenger? (Or, as Mel Brooks’ 2000 Year Old Man might have said, “He couldn’t call? Send a letter? Nothing? He doesn’t call, what a terrible son!”)

I am certainly not the first to wonder at Joseph’s silence; many of the Sages and commentators (including Rambam) wondered at Joseph’s failure to communicate. Some suggest that it was done as a kindness: by contacting his father, Joseph would have needed to reveal the perfidy of his brothers to their father, and he was reluctant to harm Jacob. On the other hand, perhaps Joseph did not want to remember. The text tells us that he named his first son Manasseh “For God has made me forget all the troubles I endured in my father's house” (Gen. 41:51).

Is it possible that Joseph actually blamed his father? After all, Jacob had to know that the brothers were hostile towards Joseph, even before he sent Joseph off to check out his brothers, having given him his splendid outfit. Thinking through his travails, it is not impossible to imagine that Joseph came to resent his father’s role in the chain of events. (In this light, we may also remember that Jacob himself did not contact his father during his twenty years with Laban, so Joseph was acting just as his own father had acted.) By withholding Benjamin, Joseph may have been lashing back at Jacob. Joseph may have thought that his father should have been protecting him from his brothers’ fury.

But now those same brothers are before him. Joseph was ready to reveal himself to them only when they demonstrated their good faith by offering to substitute themselves for Benjamin. 

In the best light, Joseph’s question, perhaps, could be read as more of a declaration than as a question: “My father is still alive, and we can all be reunited again.” This may teach us that whatever hurts we commit against each other, when there is real and honest t’shuvah, reconciliation is possible. 

For Shabbat Chanukah

Mikketz

Genesis 41:1-44:17

Précis: At the end (mikketz) of two years of Joseph’s imprisonment, Pharaoh dreams of cows and ears of corn. The butler who had shared Joseph’s cell now remembers him and calls him from prison. Joseph predicts seven years of plenty, followed by seven years of famine. Pharaoh is so impressed that he appoints Joseph as his chief vizier and Joseph goes about storing grain during the times of plenty.

            Joseph marries Asenath and they have two sons, Ephraim and Manasseh. When the famine comes, Jacob sends his sons from Canaan to Egypt to purchase food. Joseph has them brought in while he remains in cognito. Joseph accuses the brothers of spying, and sends them home after they leave one brother hostage and promise to return with their youngest brother, Benjamin. Upon their return, the brothers (including Benjamin) meet the still-unrevealed Joseph. Joseph has their bags filled not only with grain but also with the money used to purchase the grain and has a gold cup hidden in Benjamin’s belongings. When they are “caught” by Joseph’s men, they learn that whoever stole the cup would become Joseph’s slave, while the others return to their homeland. On this cliffhanger, the parasha ends.

     This week’s parasha coincides with Shabbat Chanukah, so it seems reasonable to discuss the holiday this week. On the other hand, one might remark that the Joseph story is a leitmotif of Jewish existence – wanting to take part in the non-Jewish world but retaining our own distinctive religion and culture. Joseph was clearly part of the non-Jewish world of Egypt, given an Egyptian name, marrying an Egyptian woman, speaking Egyptian, and ruling the land second only to Pharaoh. Yet, he retained a distinctive Jewish identity (as we see with the naming of his sons Ephraim and Manasseh, and with his open acknowledgement, eventually, of his family).

            It is not simple to comprehensively explain the “message” of Chanukah, since understanding of the holiday and its observances have changed over time, depending in part on when and where it was being celebrated.

            American Jews tend to view the holiday as one which celebrates religious freedom – the Maccabees regaining the Temple and restoring religious liberty. Many Zionists have viewed the story as a nationalistic uprising, with the Jewish people being restored (albeit temporarily) to sovereignty. Mystics and Kabbalists have seen in the Chanukah lights reminders of the essence of the Shechinah’s “spark.”

                The “real” message lies somewhere among these views. We do know that the Hashmonaim (Maccabees) were what we might call “fundamentalists” for their time, opposed to any accommodations with the Hellenist-inspired rulers. On the other hand, they sought (and obtained) both the kingship of Judea and the High Priesthood, an unprecedented double play which some have viewed as a power-grab. (It was indeed odd inasmuch as they were neither decedents of David nor of the priestly family of Zadok). Further, within a generation, these anti-Hellenists adopted Greek names, spoke Greek, and expanded their small empire, forcing the conversion of non-Jews (something that had never been part of Jewish history), and even forced circumcision on unwilling Hellenist Jews. It was not too long before new civil strife broke out among the descendants of the Maccabees, and the rulers called in Romans to help maintain “order” – a fatal error which was to result in the loss of an independent Jewish state and in the destruction of the Temple.

                Over time, the celebration of Chanukah has changed. According to the Book of Maccabees (not part of the Hebrew canon), the first celebration was 8 days because the Jews had not been permitted to observe the festival of Sukkot earlier that year, the Temple having being defiled. The rabbis later decreed that the festival should be celebrated annually, and perhaps developed the story of the magical oil when, under Roman rule, it did not make much sense to glorify a military uprising against another  foreign ruler. Seen in this light, Chanukah is a rabbinic innovation, and serves as a reminder that innovation should not be a dead letter in Jewish thought and practice.

            This holiday is also a time to remember Joseph, while we celebrate our Jewish heritage and publicly light the Chanukiah. We share its light with all of the nations, while we recall and treasure our own tradition.

Dreams Matter

Vayeshev

Genesis 37:1 - 40:23

Précis: The story of Joseph begins with the words “And Jacob dwelt (vayeshev) in the land of his father’s travels.” We learn that Joseph is Jacob’s favorite son. Joseph receives the famous coat of many colors, and dreams strange dreams and relates them to his brothers and father, creating additional concern (jealousy) on their part. The sons conspire to do away with Joseph, but before he dies, they sell him into slavery. Jacob is devastated when the sons present evidence of Joseph’s “death.” 

            Joseph becomes a servant in the household of Potiphar, an Egyptian official. Potiphar’s wife attempts to seduce Joseph but he refuses her advances. She accuses him nonetheless of attempted rape, and Joseph is tossed into prison. There, he meets jailed servants of Pharaoh, for whom he interprets dreams successfully. When the chief butler is restored to his post, he promises to “remember” Joseph, but the parasha ends with the words, “but he forgot him.”

Gen. 37:5-8  “And Joseph dreamed a dream, and he told it to his brothers, and they hated him even more. And he said to them, ‘Listen, I ask you, to this dream I have dreamed. For lo, we were binding sheaves in the field, and my sheaf arose, and your sheaves came around and bowed down to my sheaf.'”

           

This parasha is much about dreams. Joseph’s dreams, at the outset, are the cause of his trouble, and at the end, point to his eventual salvation. Dreams are strange things. They can be energizing, terrorizing, pleasurable or troublesome. Joseph is a dreamer. He dreams of sheaves of wheat, stars, and sun and moon. Later, he will deal with dreams of fat cows and thin ones, years of plenty and years of starvation. Dreaming is a leitmotif of Joseph’s story (perhaps the longest story about an individual in the 5 Books of Moses).

            At the beginning, his dreams result in hatred from his brothers (who already resent him for being the father’s favorite son). This hatred results in his sale into slavery. Later on, the dreams will become the source of his salvation, raising him from prison to the heights of power in Egypt. Ironically, Joseph’s dreams save his family, but eventually result in centuries of slavery. Nevertheless, the moral of the story is that dreams were needed to secure the survival of the Jewish People.

            Almost 3,000 years later, another dreamer had a dream. He lived not in the Middle East, but in Vienna. He dreamed that the Jewish People, scattered for millennia, could be redeemed in a new state, and restored to the Land of Israel. His name was not Joseph, but rather Theodor Herzl , a founder of modern Zionism. Herzl, like Joseph, was more than a dreamer: he acted and organized the first World Zionist Congress. This was the embryonic instrument which would turn into a world-wide movement and which would, within 50 years, result in the creation of the modern state of Israel. As he famously stated, “If you will it, it is no dream.”

            Today, the Zionist enterprise is militarily and technologically strong, with a vitality and democracy all too rare in the world. At the same time, Israel faces existential threats from its neighbors, and is used as an excuse for the reemergence of Anti-Semitism in much of the so-called civilized world. Internally, Israel's politics are terribly splintered. The long-standing basis of Israeli politics (the left believing that they could find Palestinian partners for peace, and the right believing that settlements and occupation could last forever) has been shattered. Few believe that any resolution is possible, and Israeli politics seem to be more and more splintered with an American-like polarization of the leadership. Things seem bleak and unpromising.

            Yet the stories of Joseph and Herzl offer a thin reed of hope. Dreams can come true, whether in ancient Egypt or today’s Israel. We must continue to dream and act so that the current years of difficulty will be transformed into an era of peace and security.

Wrestling with Ourselves?

Vayishlach

Genesis 32:4 - 36:43

Précis: As he nears his return to his homeland, Jacob sent (vayishlach) messengers to Esau to ascertain Esau’s state of mind after their 20 year separation. While he awaits a reply, Jacob encounters an “adversary” (most assume an angel) with whom Jacob wrestles through the night. As dawn breaks, the adversary announces that Jacob’s name is to be changed to Israel: “He who wrestles with God.” On the following day, Esau approaches, and despite Jacob’s fears, there is a happy reunion.

            We then read the story of how a local prince rapes Dinah, Jacob’s daughter, and then asks to marry her. Jacob agrees on condition that all of the men of the city are circumcised. While the men are recovering, Jacob’s sons Simon and Levi attack the city and kill all of the inhabitants in revenge for the insult to their sister.

           Jacob soon travels to Beth-el (the site of his ladder dream), and on the way, Rachel gives birth to Benjamin and dies following her labor. Thereafter, Isaac’s death is noted, as is his burial by Esau and Jacob. The parasha ends with a genealogy of Esau and his descendants.

Gen. 32:25 “And Jacob was left alone; and there he wrestled with a man until the breaking of day.”

            Who was this “man” who Jacob wrestles with? As noted in Etz Hayim, most of the earliest commentaries saw him as being evil, a “malign force.” Genesis Rabbah suggests that this was in fact Esau’s guardian angel, or even Esau himself. Rashbam suggests, to the contrary, that this was an angel sent by God to prevent Jacob from running away.

            A more modern interpretation is that Jacob was wrestling with his conscious. Jacob had faced difficulties earlier in his life with deceit and lies, or by running away. He changes during the battle from Jacob the trickster to Yisrael, “one who wrestles with God.” But he wrestles with God by wrestling with his own inclinations, and by overcoming them. It is perhaps a reminder that we all have within ourselves not only a yetzer tov and yetzer rah (a good and an evil inclination), but also that we have within ourselves the ability, like Jacob/Israel, to allow our better natures to prevail when faced with challenges.

Communal Standards

Vayetze

Genesis 28:10-33:3

Précis: As Jacob travels towards the household of his uncle Laban, he dreams of a ladder (some translate it as a ramp) to heaven, with angels ascending and descending. He vows to build a great House for God on the spot. Jacob meets and falls in love with Laban’s younger daughter, Rachel. Laban agrees to the match, provided that Jacob works for him for seven years. Laban switches the older daughter, Leah, for Rachel; Jacob works an additional seven years for Rachel’s hand. Jacob then works for Laban for another six years, and acquires great wealth and flocks through shrewd husbandry. During the stay with Laban, most of the children of Jacob are born. At the conclusion of the parasha, after tense negotiations with Laban, Jacob leaves with his possessions and family.

Gen. 29:25-26 “'And he said to Laban, ‘What is this you have done to me? Was it not for Rachel that I served you? Why have you deceived me?’ And Laban said, ‘It is not done like that in our place, that we will give the younger girl before the firstborn.’”

            Jacob deceived his father, and now he is now deceived by his uncle Laban who switches Leah for Rachel. Using the Hebrew word “v’nitnah”  (a plural verb meaning “we will give”), he suggests that he is following the standards of his community. In other words,  he is  not personally responsible for the act of deceit. There is also the undertone which says to Jacob, “I know what you did to your father, and now you are getting what you deserve.” Laban tries to absolve himself from guilt by saying “what else can I do?”    

            We all face times when communal standards appear to be at odds with our sense of morality. The standards may be those imposed by our local circle of friends, our congregations, our extended families, or civil authorities. As my father, z’l, use to say, “just because everybody else does it doesn’t make it right.” And as my mother, z’l would say, “just because your friends jump off the George Washington Bridge doesn’t mean you have to!”

            Our tradition demands that we take individual responsibility for our actions. The Sages remind us, “there is no agency for sinful acts” (BT Kiddushin 42b). This means that if another individual asks or demands that you transgress, you cannot avoid blame by claiming “he made me do it.”

            In a class I teach on modern Israeli history, we were discussing the Eichmann trial, where his principle defense was that he was merely following orders, and therefore had no responsibility for his horrendous crimes against humanity. A single verb, used in the plural in this verse, is a reminder that such an excuse is never satisfactory.

The importance of acceptance

Toldot

Genesis 25:19-28:9

Précis: The introductory phrase to this parasha is “These are the generations (“toldot”) of Isaac.” What follows is the birth of the twins, Esau and Jacob. Their childhood is omitted from narrative. We learn that Jacob is a quiet man while Esau is a cunning hunter; that their mother Rebecca prefers Jacob, and that Isaac prefers Esau. We then have the story of the sale of the birthright by Esau to Jacob for a bowl of porridge (or lentils). A famine takes place, and Isaac visits the Philistines where he claims that his wife Rebecca is actually his sister (as Abraham did with Sarah in Lech Lecha) and again, the woman escapes unharmed. The story then turns to the “great deception” where Jacob pretends to be Esau in order to obtain the primary blessing from his father Isaac. Esau hates Jacob and threatens him; Rebecca urges Jacob to escape to her family in Haran, to where he sets off at the conclusion of the parasha.

Gen. 25:19-20 “And this is the lineage of Isaac, son of Abraham. Abraham begat Isaac. And Isaac was forty years old when he took as wife Rebecca, daughter of Bethuel the Aramean, sister of Laban.”

While Isaac certainly has a major role in the Jewish family story as the second patriarch, one cannot deny that he appears to play a lesser role than his father Abraham (Isaac was, after all, the intended sacrifice on Mt. Moriah). He is also overshadowed by his son Jacob, who has direct interactions with God and sires the tribes which would become a nation. There are several aspects of Isaac’s life which distinguish him from his father and from his son: he lives his entire life in the Land of Israel, never leaving it; he has only one wife, and he has children with only one women; his name remains Isaac through his life (not as in Abram/Abraham, or Jacob/Israel).

            What are we to make of these three differences between Isaac, his father, and his son? One might think that Abraham and Jacob are more “real world.” They wander, they face challenges, they assume new names (what we might call changes of status). They are active doers; Isaac is acted upon, both by his father on the mountain and by his son who deceives him in the matter of the blessing. He is not the actor but rather the object.

            But we can see Isaac in a positive light as well. He is a person secure in his home, and he faces challenges with a kind of acceptance we might envy. He remains faithful to his wife, and instead of the turmoil of his father and son’s lives, he seems to be relatively at peace with his world and with himself. Midrash calls Isaac the “Master of Suffering," (Bereshit Rabbah 94:5) because he demonstrates the ability to overcome challenges and suffering (at the mountain and in his old age). Isaac’s ability to overcome challenges should inspire us all.  

Little Signs

Vayera

Genesis 18:1-22:24    

Précis: God “appeared” (vayera) to Abraham in the form of three travelers to whom Abraham shows hospitality. They promise the birth of Isaac, overheard by Sarah (who laughs). God reveals His plans for the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, and Abraham argues for its salvation for the sake of any innocents who might dwell there. The scene shifts to Sodom where Lot lives, and he and his daughters are rescued first from an unruly mob and then from the destruction of the city itself. Lot’s wife glances back and turns into the pillar of salt. His daughters, fearing that they are the last females alive, make Lot drunk and engage in sexual relations with him, later giving birth to founders of the tribes of Moab and Ammon (traditional adversaries of the Israelites).

Back with Abraham, Sarah conceives and gives birth to Isaac. She becomes unhappy with the continued presence of Ishmael and prevails upon Abraham to expel Ishmael and Hagar from the household, which he does (after being promised by God that Ishmael, too, will be the father of a great nation). Thereafter, the story continues with the attempted sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham, called “the Akedah” (the Binding of Isaac).

Gen. 19:15-16 “The angels urged Lot on, saying ‘Up. Take your wife and your two remaining daughters, lest you be swept away by the inequity of the city.’ Still he lingered...”

            The Torah reading is accompanied by notation (“trop”) which provides the reader with the correct “tune” for the chanting. (These notations are not written in the actual Torah scroll, but appear in early manuscripts, also serving as important clues to pronunciation and grammar.) In this verse, above the word “lingered,” we find a rare trop sign, called a “shalshelet” which is chanted with a long series of quivering notes, going higher in frequency until abruptly ending.

            Even these signs can give us insight into the reading. The shalshelet is found in three Genesis stories which on the surface are unrelated. The first is here, and concerns Lot and the destruction of Sodom. He has been told by angels to leave Sodom because it is about to be destroyed, but “still he lingered.” The implication is that he lingered because he was conflicted about leaving his city and home. Even though it was about to be destroyed, and even though he knew that the destruction was deserved, he lingered before fleeing.

            In a second shalshelet story, Eliezer, on the mission from his master Abraham to find a wife for Isaac, decides to pray to God to seek a sign; his first word of prayer “vayomar” (he said) includes the shalshelet. According to the midrash (Gen. Rabbah 59:12), Eliezer had hopes that his own daughter would be selected to be the wife of Isaac. Should his mission fail, perhaps his daughter would be selected. So he prayed, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

            The third shalshelet tale, the story of Joseph and Potiphar’s wife, finds Joseph as the object of seduction. The shalshelet appears over the phrase “he refused” (Genesis 39:8 “vayema’aine”). The rabbis assume that this was a reluctant refusal. After all, a slave boy had become wealthy in his master’s service; a beautiful woman was offering herself to him. He wrestles with this temptation and does the right thing.

            The shalshelet sign reminds us that Biblical characters were human. They encountered temptation and they wrestled with their consciences. They knew the right thing to do, and they did it, but not easily nor without question. There is an important lesson here for all of us. To be human is to face temptation. To live a good life is to overcome temptation, even reluctantly. It is better to make the right decision reluctantly than to make the wrong decision.

Leaving our Comfort Zones

Lech Lecha

Genesis 12:1 -17:27

Précis: This parasha, “get you up” or “go yourself” (lech lecha) begins with “the call” of Abram to leave his home and depart for a new land. At God’s command, Abram and Sarai journey to Canaan. When famine strikes, they travel to Egypt, where Sarai is taken into Pharaoh’s harem after Abram calls her his “sister,” but she escapes without harm. They then leave Egypt, with Abram now a rich man. To avoid family squabbles, Abram separates himself from his nephew Lot (who moves to Sodom), but Abram is forced to rescue Lot and reaches a negotiated settlement with the locals. God promises Abram an heir. Because Sarai is barren, she offers Abram her servant (Hagar), and Hagar gives birth to a son, Ishmael. Abram is then promised a son through Sarai, to be his true heir. Abram’s name is changed to Abraham, and Sarai’s to Sarah, in recognition of the new Covenant with God, which is then symbolized by circumcision.

Gen. 12:1 “And Adonai said to Abram, ‘Go forth from your land and your birthplace and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.’

            Perhaps it is overused, but the “journey” as a metaphor for life persists because it is appropriate. These days, we often speak of our own “Jewish journey” and so it can come as something of a shock to read about the very first “Jewish journey.” Abram’s Jewish journey is undertaken without the angst and introspection which seems part of the modern counterpart.

            God’s command to Abram comes in two words: “Lech lecha.” Biblical Hebrew suggests that this is a command in the imperative form (hence the translation “go forth”). But we can also translate the phrase as “take yourself.” It places stress on the recipient, who is to understand that this is not a matter of choice and is not about some unimportant request. Abram is on notice that he is about to undertake something of significant importance. He does not question, he does.

            As usual, the fact that two words are used when one would have been sufficient did not escape notice of the Sages. They suggest that the two word phrase should be understood as something like “go for yourself” or “go for your own good.”

            In a more modern interpretation, we could see God telling Abram to leave his "comfort zone" (his land, his birthplace, and father’s house) to an unspecified destination which might offer the potential of the utmost importance. Our own Jewish journeys, like Abram’s, require us to leave the comfort of the way we live and accept the challenges of new thoughts, beliefs, or practices. We need to be willing to go to a different “place” if our journey is to continue. Abram left his comfort zone and by doing so, a nation was created. While we may not be creating new nations, our choices to proceed on our own Jewish journeys can be inspired by Abram’s conviction and faith. That’s what makes the metaphor timeless.

Noah - The part we don't really read

Noach

Genesis 6:9-11:32

Précis: The story of Noah (Hebrew: Noach) and Flood appear in this parasha. Noah, called by God, builds the Ark and collects the animals. It rains for forty days and nights. Noah and his family are saved, and afterwards leave the Ark, build an altar, and make sacrifices to God. God sets a rainbow as a promise not to destroy mankind again. Noah plants a vineyard, makes wine, and becomes drunk. An odd incident takes place with his sons. The story of the Tower of Babel is included in this parasha, and it ends with a genealogy of the ancient peoples of the Bible, concluding with Abram.

Gen. 9:20-27 “And Noah began to be a husbandman, and he planted a vineyard: And he drank of the wine, and was drunken; and he was uncovered within his tent.  And Ham, the father of Canaan, saw the nakedness of his father, and told his two brethren without. And Shem and Japheth took a garment, and laid it upon both their shoulders, and went backward, and covered the nakedness of their father; and their faces were backward, and they saw not their father's nakedness.  And Noah awoke from his wine, and knew what his younger son had done unto him. And he said, Cursed be Canaan; a servant of servants shall he be unto his brethren.  And he said, Blessed be the Lord God of Shem; and Canaan shall be his servant. God shall enlarge Japheth, and he shall dwell in the tents of Shem; and Canaan shall be his servant.”

            This is the part of the Noah story  which was left out of the recent movie (at least I think so; I fell asleep watching it). It’s also part of the story we don’t read to the little kids, who are much more interested in the animals.

            These  verses tells us that Noah plants a vineyard and gets drunk. His son Ham “saw the nakedness” of Noah and tells his brothers, Shem and Japheth, about it. They carefully cover their father, without “seeing his nakedness.” Noah wakes, and learns what Ham had “done” to him. He curses Ham’s son Canaan (but not Ham), and blesses his other two sons.

            To say that the text is hard to decipher is an understatement. So much is left out of the story! Noah, who had been described as being righteous gets drunk at the first opportunity. How did Noah know what happened? Why does he curse Ham’s son and not Ham? Why are Shem and Japheth blessed?    

            The Sages of course were aware of these problems and offered a variety of explanations. As we’ve learned before, Noah being called “righteous” was considered by some to mean merely that he was righteous compared to everybody else in his time (who were all killed by the Flood).  So it’s no real surprise that he planted a vineyard and got drunk (after all, being cooped up with those animals could not have been easy).

            We should recall that “seeing the nakedness” of another was a Biblical euphemism for sexual activity. If “seeing the nakedness” By Ham of his father was indeed an act of homosexual incest, that is certainly a horrid sin. By why the curse on his son Canaan, instead of simply Ham himself? Some suggest that this sets the stage for the traditional Biblical view of the Canaanites as depraved and sinful, worthy of destruction when the Israelites seized the territory.

            Are Shem and Japheth really heroes here, or did they attempt to “cover up” the crime committed by their father in getting drunk, when instead they should have confronted him(what we might call today an “intervention”). So much is left to our imagination by this tale. It is ambiguous, and life is often ambiguous. I’d suggest that we remain true to our tradition and avoid this part of the story with the little ones. It’s hard enough for us to understand!

Once again from the begining....

Bereshit

Genesis 1:1 - 6:8

Précis: The first Book of the Torah, Bereshit (Genesis, literally “in the beginning” or “When God began to create”) begins with the familiar story of creation. The world is created in six days and God rests on the seventh. The stories of Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden are included, as is the story of Cain and Abel.

            We begin the annual reading of the Five Books of Moses immediately upon its conclusion, celebrated this week on Simchat Torah. Why? Perhaps it is because with each passing year, our experiences allow us to understand more of what life has to offer, and what the text has to offer. Yochanan Ben Bag Bag said (Pirke Avot 5:25), "Turn it, and turn it, for everything is in it. Reflect on it and grow old and gray with it. Don't turn from it, for you have no better standard of conduct."

Gen. 2:3 “And God blessed the seventh day, and hallowed it; because that in it He rested from all His work which God in creating had made.”

             Seven is perhaps the ultimate Jewish number. Creation took seven days, as we note in this verse. Noah collects seven pairs of kosher animals for the Ark, and after the Flood, he receives seven commandments (the “Noachide laws” which Jews believe apply to all people); Jacob worked seven years for each wife, Joseph interpreted Pharaoh’s dreams of seven years of abundance to be followed by seven years of famine; Jewish law requires land to remain fallow every seven years, and the 50^th year (7x7 plus one) is the Yovel or Jubilee year.

            There is more. Moses assembles 70 elders to help run the Israelite camp; there are seven branches on the menorah, seven weeks of the omer between Pesach and Shavuot, seven Canaanite tribes to be conquered, and seven kinds of fruits to be brought to the Temple as an offering. Today, we traditionally observe a week (seven days) of shivah following the death of a close loved one.

            The focus on the number seven is significant in connection with this week’s reading: we are connected to creation. While humans were created on the 6^th day, Creation was not complete until the 7^th day. So when we act in ways to heal the world, we are continuing the creation described in this parasha.

Living with insecurity and faith

Here is a special message for Sukkot:

Lev. 23: 42-43 “Live in sukkot for seven days: All native-born Israelites are to live in sukkot so that your descendants will know that I had the Israelites live in sukkot when I brought them out of Egypt: I am the Lord your God”.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks has written eloquently (as usual) about Sukkot (Judaism: The Festival of Insecurity – Arutz Sheva, 9/17/13). He connects the ancient ritual of living in a sukkah with a most modern plague, that of insecurity. He suggests that historians will look back upon this era as the “Age of Insecurity” and notes that we Jews are “the world’s experts in insecurity, having lived with it for millennia.”

            Rabbi Sacks continues by examining the rabbinic discussion about the meaning of the sukkah. Two Sages disagrees on its meaning. Rabbi Eliezer suggested that the sukkah represents the clouds of glory that surrounded the Israelites during the wilderness years, while Rabbi Akiva said that a sukkah is a sukkah: a hut, a booth, a temporary dwelling, without  symbolic meaning.
            If we follow Rabbi Eliezer, the sukkah represents the miraculous. Rabbi Akiva’s view, however, eschews the miraculous. There is nothing special about living in a hut during desert wandering. Why should this festival be centered about something so mundane?

            Rashbam (Rashi’s grandson) tells us that the sukkah is there to remind us of our past. In the Messianic age, even after all of the exiles are gathered again in Israel, Rashbam tells us, they will remember their nomadic existence by dwelling in sukkot. Sukkot, therefore, is a reminder not to take our freedom and other blessings for granted. We come from humble origins, and the insecurities we face today are certainly not greater than those of our ancestors. They had faith to survive the wilderness, and we need faith to overcome of the insecurities of 21^st century world.

            In this light, I join Rabbi Sacks in praise of Israelis, who have lived under the threat of war and destruction for their entire existence. Whether religious or secular, Israelis display the kind of faith in the future which the sukkah is designed to instill. May they dwell beneath God’s sheltering wings on this Sukkot and in the days to come.

For Yom Kippur

The important liturgical poem, Unetaneh Tokef, is a core of our service on both Rosh Hashanah and on Yom Kippur. The metaphor is that God has a giant ledger we call the Book of Life in which it is determined “who shall live and who shall die” in the coming year. The metaphor is attributed to Rabbi Yohanan in the Talmud [BT Rosh Hashanah 16b], although the prayer itself was written only a bit more than 1,000 years ago by an unknown author. It appears in the earliest existing machzorim for the High Holy Days. Our fate is written on Rosh Hashanah, and sealed on Yom Kippur, suggesting that we have the chance to change our destiny during the intervening days.

            Despite the fact that the prayer itself is neither Biblical nor Talmudic in origin, many consider it the focus of the Yamim Noraim. The prayer is a reminder that we live lives of ambiguity; we do not know what is in store for us. Perhaps this is a reason why this poem resonates so strongly, since on these days we spend more than a little time thinking about what the future might hold.

            Some of us have problems with the metaphor. It suggests that once Yom Kippur has ended, and our fate is “sealed,” that our exercise of free will has ended. It seems so at odds with our actual experience. Honorable and good people suffer; there is no doubt that evil doers flourish. How can God “seal” those destinies? In addition, seemingly random acts lead to unexpected results. We turn left instead of right, and avoid getting hit by a bus; we walk right instead of left, and miss the train, and are late for an appointment, and fail to get a job we wanted.  

            The concluding statement of Unetaneh Tokef  is “repentance, prayer, and acts of loving kindness can “avert” the decree (at least that’s how the Hebrew is usually translated). A second translation suggests that engaging in these actions “eases” the impact of the bad decree. Yet another interpretation is that by repenting sincerely, praying with kavanah, and treating our fellow human beings with kindness, we can find a way to live with the evils that inevitably lie ahead in our path.

            I hope that these brief words offer some new insights to you as we approach Yom Kippur. May you and yours be inscribed and sealed for a good year of health, security, happiness and peace.

Pursuit!

Shoftim

Deuteronomy 16:18-21:9

Précis: The parasha Shoftim (literally, “judges”) is devoted primarily to various themes of justice, and includes warnings against false testimony, idol worship, and the dangers posed by mortal kings. The parasha also warns the people against false prophets, magicians, soothsayers and witches. It establishes requirements for cities of refuge in the Promised Land. In short, the parasha is devoted to ways to create a just society in the Land of Israel.

Deut. 16:20 “Justice, justice you shall pursue that you may live and inherit the land which Adonai your God gives to you.”

As suggested by Daniel R. Allen (Ten Minutes of Torah 8/26/11), the most important word in the verse is “pursue.” He notes that the S’fat Emet teaches that “There is no final depth or end to justice and truth.” The command here is to pursue justice, not to achieve it. In the final analysis, our tradition suggests that the achievement of justice is God’s responsibility.

            

Nevertheless, we live in a world where human beings face issues every hour and every day. Because we are commanded to “pursue” justice, we must always strive for it, in whatever ways we can, be they political or through acts of tzedakah. We “pursue justice” by supporting the Jewish people here, in Israel, and throughout the world. We “pursue justice” when we work for political candidates who stand for the proposition that a government is best measured by how it treats the least in our society. We pursue justice when we look at our souls and see how we can better serve our loved ones and community members.

            

This parasha ushers in the month of Elul, when we begin to prepare and think about the upcoming Days of Repentences framed by Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. It is a time to rededicate ourselves to pursuit.

Love and Tattoos

Re’eh
Deuteronomy 11:26 - 16:17

Précis: Moses begins by quoting God, saying “Behold (re’eh), I set before you a blessing and a curse this day.” The blessing flows from observance of the laws and the curse results from violations. A concern with idolatry permeates the following verses. The parasha explains that there will be a single site for sacrifices. A test for a false prophet and the punishment of an idolatrous city are included. The parasha then shifts to other subjects: a prohibition against self-mutilation, the biblical basis of the laws of kashrut, tithing so that the needs are met for the Levite, the "stranger, the fatherless, and the widow.” Remission of debts, freeing of Hebrew slaves, and the dedication of firstborn cattle are discussed, as are the commandments for the observance of Passover, Shavuot, and Sukkot.

Deut. 14:1 “You are the children of Adonai your God. Do not gash yourselves or shave the front of your heads on account of the dead.”

Writing in Weekly Jewish Wisdom (8/12/10) my teacher Erica Brown discusses an emotion appropriate to the season: love. She asks us to consider what does being a child of God have to do with making a bald patch between your eyes?
            In many ancient societies, marking one’s body with the names (or icons) of the deceased was a widespread mourning ritual. This need to demonstrate an attachment is probably what motivates a person to put his beloved “Mom” on his (or her) arm in the growing use of tattoos in our society. Jewish tradition suggests that such attachments are not healthy: our love should not be so great as to do harm to our bodies or ourselves. This verse symbolically states that our devotion to another human being cannot supersede our relationship with God.
            This reminder of the power of love is appropriate during the Hebrew month of Elul, which will begin during this coming week. The word “Elul” can be construed (imaginatively) as an acronym for "I am my beloved and my beloved is mine." This verse, often recited beneath the marriage canopy, is an expression of the mutuality of love, or as Erica Brown calls it, the “reciprocal” nature of love. To be real, love must be mutual and reciprocal, whether between humans and God or between human beings.
              

Consequences

Ekev

Deut. 7:12 - 11:25

Précis: Moses continues his recapitulation of the commandments to the people, reminding them to be obedient to God’s laws in their forthcoming struggle with the Canaanites. Moses describes in detail all of the blessings which God had already provided them, and reminds them to bless and thank God for the bounty they receive. On the other hand, they should learn the dangerous lesson of rebelliousness of their fathers, including the incident of the Golden Calf. Moses reminds the people that he brought down a second set of tablets, which require their continued obedience to God.

Deut. 11:13-14 “And it will come to pass, if you listen diligently to My commandments which I command you this day, to love Adonai your God and serve Adonai with all your soul, that I will give rain in your land in due season.”

            The meaning of this parasha can be easily summed up: actions have consequences. We observe that our tradition is clear about this matter each time we recite the Sh’ma when we recite this verse. But then we see the alternative: "Take care not to be lured away to serve other gods and bow down to them. For the Lord's anger will flare up against you and God will shut up the skies so that there will be no rain. The ground will not yield its produce and you will soon perish from the good land the Lord is giving to you."

            Some view this dichotomy in a very literal sense: Whenever something bad happens to us or to the Jewish People, it’s because we have failed to follow the commandments. When things go well, we can assume it is because we have been living a good life.
              

            For me, I cannot make this a basis for my personal belief system. Too many bad things happens to too many good people, and vice versa. Having said that, however, I do believe, and believe strongly, that actions have consequences. What do you believe?

Honoring Our Parents

Va'ethanan

Deuteronomy 3:23 - 7:11

Précis: Moses continues the recapitulation of travels, and urges the People to follow the laws and commandments of Adonai. Moses pleads with God that he be allowed to enter the Promised Land, and is refused. Moses reminds the people that God was angry with him on account of their sinful ways, and therefore was refused permission to enter the Land. Moses continues with a restatement of the Ten Commandments, and follows with an articulation of the basic element of Jewish theology: the Sh’ma. Moses then warns the people against the perils of forgetfulness, particularly of the Exodus, and cautions against idol worship of gods of the nations they will conquer.

Deut. 5:16 “Honor your father and your mother, as the Lord your God has commanded you, so that you may live long and that it may go well with you in the land the Lord your God is giving you.”

            In reviewing this verse, I decided to take a look at what Maimonides had to say about exactly how one is to go about observing this commandment. In Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Mamrim, Chapter 6, we find the following:

            “1) Honoring one’s father and mother is a positive commandment of great importance, as is fearing one’s father and mother. The Torah equates this honor and fear with that of God Himself…

            3) What is meant by fear and what is meant by honor? Fear [is expressed by] not standing in his place, not sitting in his place, not contradicting his words, not offering an opinion that outweighs him… What is meant by honoring them? One should bring them food and drink, clothe them and cover them from their own resources. If a father does not have financial resources and a son does, the son is compelled to sustain his father and mother according to his capacity…

            7) To what degree does the mitzvah of honoring one’s parents extend? Even if one’s parent takes his gold and throws it into the sea in his presence, he should not embarrass them, shout, or vent anger at them…

            10) When a person’s father or mother loses control of their mental faculties, their son should try to conduct this relationship with them according to their mental condition until God has mercy on them. If it is impossible to remain with them because they have become very deranged, he should leave them, depart, and charge others with caring for them in an appropriate manner.”

            I find these excerpts to be amazingly thoughtful and current. It is a true testament to the mind of Rambam that what he expressed almost a millennium ago remains powerfully relevant today. For those of us in the so-called “sandwich generation” the guidance he offers is a manifestation of timeless thoughtfulness and consideration which underlies this ancient commandment. 

Mitzvot and Obligation

D’varim

Deuteronomy 1:1 - 3:22

Précis: The Book of Deuteronomy (D’varim – “words”) takes the form of a series of lectures by Moses to the People as they prepare to enter the Land. Together, these instructions constitute Moses’ farewell address. D’varim is sometimes called the “Mishneh Torah”, literally, the “second teaching of the Torah” (this is where we get the Greek name of the Book) because it contains repetitions of previously enunciated laws. The Book has a strong focus on the centrality of the Temple in the Promised Land, as well as many of other rituals found at the center of Jewish life: recitation of the Sh’ma, Birkat Hamazon, Shabbat observance, wearing tallit and tefillin, reciting kiddush on Shabbat, and placing mezuzot on doorposts.

            The Book is in part about a spiritual journey. On another level, we can look at this as a kind of a homecoming saga. Like the Odyssey, the Gilgamesh epic, or The Wizard of Oz, much of this Book is about “getting home.” What distinguishes this Book are the detailed instructions about how to create a civil society after we get “home,” how we should relate to each other, especially to the most vulnerable in our society, and how we should relate to God and to the Land.

            The first parasha recounts the four decades of travel through the wilderness, repeats the story of the spies, deals with the appointment of judges, victories in the wilderness against enemies, and how the conquered land is to be divided. This parasha is read every year on Shabbat Hazon, the Shabbat prior to the fast of Tisha B’Av. Since looking at history is a major theme of the parasha, it is certainly an appropriate reading prior to this holiday.

Deut. 1:18 "And I commanded you, at that time, about the various the things you should do."

           

            The Book of Deuteronomy tells us, again and again, that the reason we observe commandments (mitzvot) is because God has commanded us to do so. That’s what the text says. Whether Jews of all modern “persuasions” react to this concept in the same way defines the differences among the various branches of Judaism today.

            The most traditional would simply agree with the text: we “do mitzvahs” because God has commanded us to do them. No discussion, subject closed. They believe in what the Sages called “the yoke of mitzvot.” We are to feel burdened by the commandments because God expects us to live by them.

            Others, myself included, adopt a “who am I” response, as in “who am I to break a 3,000 year old chain of continuity?" This we might call a historical imperative.

            Others adopt the “bubbie” rationale, as in, “my bubbie would turn over in her grave if I served pork for dinner.”

            Some Jews today perform ancient commandments because they feel the peer pressure of the communities in which they live; others observe mitzvot because they sense an ethical imperative that resonates with their own souls. Regardless of the rationale one adopts, performance of mitzvot needs to be mindful: mitzvot need to be observed with knowledge about what they mean, whether they have a purpose we can understand, or whether we are performing (or abstaining) for a reason which satisfies our own spiritual and communal needs.

Revenge and Redeeming

Masei

Numbers 33:1-36:13

Précis:  The Book of Numbers ends with this parasha. “These are the stages (masei) of the journey” which the Israelites made through the desert. In what amounts to a recapitulation, all of the stops along the way are identified. The Israelites are reminded to drive the Canaanites from the Land. Most of the parasha outlines the Israelites' entry to the Promised Land and sets out the first steps to be taken as they establish their national home, including the distribution of land among the tribes. The Levitical cities are described, as well as the cities of refuge. Just prior to their invasion of the land, the laws differentiating between murder and killing are repeated. The parasha ends with a summary of the commandments and ordinances. 

Num. 35:9-10 “The Lord spoke further to Moses: ‘Speak to the Israelite people and say to them, ‘When you cross the Jordan into the land of Canaan, you shall provide yourselves with places to serve as cities of refuge to which a manslayer who has killed a person unintentionally may flee. The cities shall serve you as a refuge from the avenger so that the manslayer may be brought before a tribunal…”

            The concept of cities of refuge (“arei miklat”) was developed for a society in which revenge was the usual reaction to a murder, whether intentional or unintentional. Even today, there remain cultures in which physical revenge is used in reaction to a range of “insults” (from “improper” relations with a female relative to the killing of a relative). While the concept of a city of refuge was probably not a creation of the Israelites (there were similar concepts known in neighboring cultures of that era), it was a mark of a society in while the rule of law was to be supported. The Hebrew word we translate here as “avenger” (go'el) literally means “redeemer,” as in one who redeems the honor of his clan. This shows just how important this concept of honor was in this society.

            The Torah rejects revenge and an avenger, and instead demands a system of tribunals to protect the accused from the vengeance of others. If found innocent of intentional killing, the accused would be permitted to live in the city, isolated from the community where he had committed the non-willful slaying. For a civilization which had yet to invent prisons, this was an important development.

            There is a second interesting point to consider. Among the tribes, the Levites were not provided with a portion of the land; their “income” was to be derived from contributions to the Temple from the other tribes. An exception was made, however, for the designated refuge cities. These were under the control of the Levites. Thus, the role of the Levites as envisioned in the Torah was to serve as both the ritual leaders of the People, and as the civil protectors of society. This union of religious and social leadership may well have been a unique contribution of the Torah. It may give one some insight into today’s debate about the role of church and state, and I would certainly appreciate hearing from others what the connection might be.

Collateral Damage?

Matot

Numbers 30:2 - 33:42

Précis: The parasha begins with a speech to the heads (matot) of the tribes concerning the importance and sacredness of vows. The parasha then returns to the war with the Midianites, including the purification of the warriors and division of the booty. The tribes of Reuben, Gad and half of Manasseh express their desire to dwell east of the Jordon, and are permitted to do so, after promising to enter the Land to help the rest of the People defeat the Canaanites.

Num. 31:17-18: “Now kill all the boys. And kill every woman who has slept with a man, but save for yourselves every girl who has never slept with a man.”

            This parasha relates the history of a war with the Midianites shortly before the Israelites enter the Land. All of the adult men are slain, including the King, and all of the adult women are slain. Only virgin females survive. Even the male children are to be killed.

            We cannot read these verses without a sense of horror, particularly with the atrocities of recent weeks. This story has all too many connections with the idea of jihad, genocide, and revenge.

            Is our lack of comfort  with this Divine command based on a misplaced imposition of our “modern” sense of morality on a situation 3,000 years ago? I would answer “no.” The 20^th century was perhaps the bloodiest century humanity has experienced. Can we so-called “modern” people look down upon these events and ignore the horrors of trench warfare, the Holocaust, and Hiroshima?   

            We should understand that the battle described here was the final struggle in a protracted war, and we know that protracted war takes a toll on the morality of most combatants. This being the case, the IDF’s record is truly remarkable during the decades-long struggle with its enemies, so many of whom take pride in their ability to target innocent civilians with the most heinous disregard for life – including their own. They glorify the killers of innocents, naming streets and squares in their honor. They cheer and give gifts of candy when innocent Israeli blood is shed.

            Based on the human experience of the 20^th century, we should understand that our claim to moral superiority over our ancient ancestors is misplaced and undeserved. Having said this, we can take justifiable pride in the efforts the IDF and the United States military take in investigating allegations of violations of the strict rules of engagement each nation has. These rules are aimed at containing and limiting the instances of civilian collateral damage. Even during war, we  (Americans and Israelis) both aim for a level of morality which other nations should envy.

Leadership in Transition

Pinchas

Numbers 25:10 - 30:1

Précis: This parasha begins with a reward for Pinchas’ zealotry in slaying the offending adulterers at the conclusion of the previous parasha. His reward is the hereditary High Priesthood for his family. The parasha continues with a second census conducted by Moses, with war being declared against Midian. The laws of inheritance are amended to provide, at least in certain cases, for daughters to inherit their fathers’ estates. Joshua is appointed the successor to Moses as leader of the People. The parasha then shifts to details of daily sacrifices, offerings for the new moon, and Festivals.

27:15 -16 “And Moses spoke to Adonai saying, ‘Let Adonai, God of the spirit of all flesh, appoint a man over the congregation who will go in front of them and who will bring them out and who will bring them in, so that Adonai’s congregation won’t be like sheep without a shepherd.…’”

The text displays Moses’ role in finding his successor to be named once he (Moses) finally comes to terms with the fact that he will not personally lead the people into the Promised Land. His transfer of authority to Joshua, including his laying of his hands on Joshua, seems to be generous and gracious, which is particularly striking since we know that Moses is bitterly disappointed. The Sages help us understand Moses’ actions.

            A midrash relates that Moses enters the Tent of Meeting one last time to negotiate with God, knowing that Abraham has successfully negotiated with God over the destruction of Sodom. Moses opens with a suggestion that Joshua should in fact take over the leadership, but that Moses will remain around as a sort of senior counsel. The midrash continues that God seems willing, and then calls Joshua into the Tent (as Moses departs and waits outside). When Joshua comes out, Moses asks what God had told him. Joshua responds that on previous occasions when Moses had gone into the Tent, Moses would not tell Joshua what the conversation inside with God had been about. Now the roles are reversed, and Joshua will not speak to Moses about his conversation with God. The midrash concludes with Moses saying, “Better that I should die than I should live and envy Joshua.”

            Here is a key lesson in leadership: transition is inevitable, and it is up to the departing leader (executive director, rabbi, or president) to do so graciously and helpfully.

Walking humbly

Balak

Numbers 22:2 - 25:9

Précis: Balak, the King of Moab, is fearful because of the success of the Israelites in war against other peoples. He hires a local magician named Balaam to place a curse upon the Israelites. Balaam begins the journey riding upon his ass, which refuses to proceed and actually talks to Balaam, protesting Balaam’s foul treatment of the poor beast. Balaam sees an angel and refuses to complete Balak’s mission. Balak reiterates his command to Balaam to curse the Israelites, but instead Balaam pronounces a blessing, frustrating Balak. The parasha ends with an interesting narrative episode: Pinchas, the grandson of Aaron, sees an Israelite having sexual relations with a Midianite woman (a violation of a commandment not to fraternize with the local population), and he slays both of them and, in the process, staves off a plague that had been threatening the Israelites.

            While the vast majority of my weekly musings on the parasha have been aimed at the Torah reading, this week I wanted to look at a verse in the haftarah.

            The final verse of this week's haftarah reading from the prophet Micah (6:8), provides an insight into the story of Balaam and his donkey. Rabbi W. Gunther Plaut offers a poignant translation of this well-known verse: "Mortals/People have told you what is good, but what does the Eternal seek from you? Only this: to do justly, and love mercy, and walk humbly with your God."

            In this Torah portion, the mortals Balak and Balaam demonstrate what they think is “good,” namely: to fear alien people (in this case, the Israelites); to take up arms against them; to curse them; to use violence against an innocent animal; to punish those who disagree with them; to allow anger to rage out of control; not to listen to advice or information; and to use a God-given talent (blessing and cursing) in the service of murder.

            What does this story suggest that God seeks of people? The answer seems the opposite of nearly every tendency they (we?) have. By means of this story, God would have us love the “other;” resist the urge to take up arms; understand and accept that others may disagree with us; keep our anger under control; listen to the wisdom of others; and use our talents for good.

            This is a very tall order, and we will certainly fall short of these lofty goals because we live in a world which can and does take advantage of such efforts. But that is not an excuse to keep from trying.

The dangers of gossip

Dear Friends and Family: While I announced my retirement last week, and said the weekly d'var would be more occasional, it turns out that I'm ready this week. Some habits are hard to break. It's likely that there will be a hiatus for the next 2 or 3 weeks. Shabbat Shalom

B’haalot’cha

Numbers 8:1 - 12:16

Précis: The parasha begins with a description of the making of the seven-branched menorah, a (the?) central Jewish symbol. Next, the Levites are given specific directions for their duties. The parasha returns to narrative with a recounting of a second Passover celebration (required because some of the Israelites had been ritually impure when the first anniversary of Passover was celebrated). Next comes a discussion of the making of silver trumpets. The cloud of God’s Presence lifts, and the march of the People through the wilderness from Sinai begins, led by the Ark of the Covenant. The people begin to murmur, this time about a lack of meat. God provides, but the People are struck with a plague. This time, even Miriam and Aaron seem to have complaints about Moses, cast in terms of their critique about his “Cushite woman.” Moses is stressed by the demands of leadership.

Num. 12:1-2 “And Miriam and Aaron spoke against Moses about the Cushite wife whom he had taken, because he had taken a Cushite wife. And they said, ‘Has Adonai only spoken through Moses? Has not Adonai also spoken through us?’”

            We find in this parasha a fairly unusual occurrence: God imposes punishment immediately upon Miriam (a prophet in her own right!) following her criticism of her brother Moses. (Interestingly, Aaron does not seem to be on the receiving end of God’s wrath, but that is a d’var for another occasion.) God seems angry with both of them for gossiping about Moses, or perhaps because they are voicing a complaint also made by Korah about the uniqueness of Moses’ leadership and authority. As punishment, Miriam's skin turns leprous. Aaron seeks the intervention of Moses, who makes one of the few prayers reported in the Five Books: "O God, pray heal her." Miriam is healed.

            Traditional commentators state that Miriam’s punishment was the result of gossip (lashon hara). The Sages believe that this sin is perhaps one of the most vicious to be committed, and demand that gossip be avoided, even if true. (There may be exceptions if a person has a legitimate need to know about the matter, for the safety of others.)

            A well-known Chassidic tale highlights this traditional aversion to lashon hara. A man had the habit of bad-mouthing his rabbi. One day, the man approached the rabbi, having recognized his sins and begging for forgiveness. The rabbi told the man to take a feather pillow out into the field on a particularly windy day, beat it, and release all of the feathers. The man complied with the rabbi’s request, and returned to him. The rabbi then insisted that he return to the field and collect all of the wind-tossed feathers. When the man protested about the impossibility of the new task, the rabbi responded by telling him that the task was just as impossible as it would be to repair the damage to the rabbi’s reputation caused by words of gossip, which spread like feathers in the windy field.

            We can learn from this episode an important lesson. All of us come into possession of knowledge about others which, if spread about, would cause terrible harm. We can act as appropriate models by refusing to engage in conversations with anyone which contain gossip.