Finding Strength in Diversity

Vayechi

Genesis 47:28 - 50:26

Précis: As the Book of Genesis comes to a close, Jacob lived (vayechi) in the land of Egypt for 17 years and dies after giving a final, poetic, individualized ethical testament to each of his sons. In a great funeral procession, Joseph, his brothers, and Pharaoh and his court bring Jacob’s body to Machpela to be buried. At the end of the parasha, Joseph dies after exacting a promise to bring his remains to the land of Israel as well.

Gen. 50:26 “Joseph died at the age of one hundred and ten years, and he was embalmed and placed in a coffin in Egypt.”

            Arthur Sandman, of the Jewish Agency for Israel, has written (JCSANA 12/13) about the closing verses of the Book of Genesis, noting that upon the death of Jacob, he was embalmed by the physicians and carried to Canaan to be buried at Machpela. Joseph also asks to be buried in Canaan, but that does not occur until Joshua brings his bones back for internment at the conclusion of the Exodus. 

            The Book of Bereshit ends with the words of the verse cited above. One can ask why  we have the apparently unnecessary word “b’mitzrayim”(in Egypt). We surely know where he was, and it was, of course in Egypt. Sandman suggests that the Torah is telling us that Joseph’s “place” (Egypt) is defective. He notes that the grammar of the final phrase can be read, “he was embalmed and placed in a coffin, in Egypt,” making “coffin” and “Egypt” metaphors for each other. Joseph, unlike his father, is not returned to his kin; his bones are interred and trapped in a box in a place that will soon be a trap for his descendants.

            Our Jewish tradition focuses on life and not on death. Both Jacob and Joseph spent many years of their lives in exile. In the end, Joseph’s forced exile from Canaan constituted a greater estrangement from the land that was Jacob’s.

            Diaspora Jewry wrestles constantly with its relationship with the land of Israel. (“Wrestle” is a word I use intentionally, as it is the definition of what it means to be a Jew). Should we return to the land like Jacob? Will the Diaspora become a trap for us as it was for Joseph? Is  there the potential for enhancing the future of the Jewish People not only through the State of Israel, but also through the experience of living in the rest of the world?

            I am suggesting that the answer is “yes.” Throughout our history, the strength of the Jewish People has been found not solely on our reliance to Torah and performance of mitzvot. We have been strengthened throughout our history by our exposure to the thoughts and customs of others: Greeks, Romans, Muslims, Poles, Americans, and yes, even Germans. The cultures in which we have found ourselves have been the source of strength as well as death and disaster. We have, as a People, taken from others and expanded our Jewish horizons and lifestyles.

            As we conclude the reading of the Book of Genesis, we recite “hazak, hazak, v’nitchazek” (Be strong, be strong, and will be strengthened). By being strong in both Israel and in the Diaspora, we will be strengthened as one People.

Give Somebody a Hug

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. 45:14-15 "Then he [Joseph] threw his arms around his brother Benjamin and wept, and Benjamin embraced him, weeping. And he kissed all his brothers and wept over them. Afterward his brothers talked with him.”

            Erica Brown (Weekly Jewish Wisdom 1/15/15) has written about the human need for touch and affection. She notes that there are three “famous” hugs in our Biblical tradition. The first (Gen. 33:4) involves Jacob and Esau: “Esau ran to meet Jacob and embraced him; he threw his arms around his neck and kissed him. And they wept.” While some rabbis question Esau’s motives, the plain meaning of the text reveals a true emotional embrace.

            The second is found in this week’s reading, and is cited above, where we see the reunion of Joseph and his brothers. There can be little doubt of the sincerity of the embrace here.

            A third famous hug is that between Ruth and her mother-in-law Naomi, when Ruth rejects Naomi’s demand that Ruth return to her people; Ruth clings to her mother-in-law and insists on going with her, joining her people and worshipping her God (Ruth 1:14-18).

            In each case, the hug was more than a physical activity showing acceptance of the other; it is also the Bible’s manner of demonstrating that a fractured relationship had been healed. Each hug is followed by a conversation of reconciliation, but the hug came first. Finally, each hug represents a new stage of a relationship. The past is not forgotten, but the relationship could now grow and flourish.

            What are we to make of this? Perhaps that hugs are important signals of our acceptance and love; perhaps we need to hug before we can explain and communicate; and perhaps it is a reminder that humans need the physical as well as the spiritual. So my advice: give somebody a hug today!

Is there "A" Meaning of Hanukkah? Nope.

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 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, we celebrate Shabbat Hanukkah. Rabbi Daniel Nevins has written about the meaning of this holiday (MyJewishLearning.com, 1/15/12) from which this message is adapted.

He suggests that the meaning of the holiday changes to meet the needs of those who observe it. American Jews usually see the holiday as a celebration of religious freedom, and see Judah Maccabee as a champion for the rights of religious minorities (at least those not named Trump!). Many Israelis see the Maccabees as early nationalists, seeking freedom of their land from foreign rulers. Kabbalists view Hanukkah as a sign of light from Heaven, giving our temporal world blessings. Each concept has substance, but defining the “real” meaning of Hanukkah is really not feasible.             

Historically, the Maccabees were traditionalists (some could call them fundamentalists) who fought against urban, Hellenizing Jews who believed that they were innovators of Jewish tradition. The Maccabees were not descendants of David, yet made themselves kings. Nor were they descendants of Zadok, the line of the High Priests, yet they assumed this post as well. And even though they were anti-Hellenists, they soon adopted many Greek customs themselves, including the language, names, and much of  Greek culture. Some suggest that the origins of Rabbinic Judaism may be found in the Greek customs of debate and symposia. The Maccabees  conquered adjacent lands and forced conversion to Judaism. They eventually turned on each other, drawing in the Romans and setting the stage for the end of the Jewish State. The Maccabees, like most Jews today in the Diaspora, seemed to live both in the secular society and yet sought to retain their uniqueness.

A final aspect of Hanukkah is that it shows the possibility and need for religious creativity. Whatever its historical origins, Hanukkah became a new Jewish festival with its own new traditions and liturgy. Simply put, the Sages invented Hanukkah, and decreed a festival for all generations to observe, demonstrating remarkable innovation.

Jews today should continue to adapt our tradition and ideas. Let the lights of the menorah spur us on to create ways in which we can enhance our tradition for future generations.

Links in a Chain

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 sojournings.” 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.” 

            We then have an intervening story about Judah. He marries off his first son to Tamar. The son soon dies, and, the next son is married to the widow (“levirate marriage.”) The second son (Onan) dies, and Judah is loath to offer the third son. The widow dresses as a harlot, seduces Judah, becomes pregnant, and reveals herself to Judah as a woman wronged. He acknowledges her as a rightful daughter.

           The scene shifts back to Joseph, who is now 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. 37:1-2 “Now Jacob was settled in the land of his father’s sojourning, the land of Canaan. At seventeen years of age, Joseph tended the flocks with his brothers, as a helper to the sons of his father’s wives Bilhah and Zilpah. And Joseph brought bad reports of them to their father.”

            Professor Arnold Eisen, JTS Chancellor, suggests (JTS Torah Commentary 12/12/09) that the text is telling us that Joseph’s story, the lengthiest exposition in the Bible, belongs to Jacob. Jacob’s other children are not mentioned in this genealogy, and as Eisen adds, “Something more than DNA alone is being transmitted from Jacob to Joseph.”

            One lesson we learn from this passage is that our stories don’t begin with us and they don’t end with us. We inhabit a place in a long chain of people, stretching to distant places and times both before and after us, whether through our children or through those we influence during our lifetimes.

            A second lesson we can glean from this parasha is that like Jacob, we who are blessed to live in America are truly settled in the “land of our fathers’ sojourning” a fact which marks our generation as exceptional. Jacob’s descendants had to endure centuries of enslavement in Egypt, where, remarkably, they maintained their cultural and spiritual identity.

            The irony is that there has never been a time nor place where Jews are more free to abandon their heritage than in 21^st century America. Not only do we have the freedom “to” observe our faith and customs; we have (as Jews have rarely ever had) the right to seek freedom “from” what has made us and our ancestors distinct.

            Whether we choose to be part of a chain stretching back to Joseph and Jacob and add to those links in the future is perhaps the greatest test of freedom we face. It is also a challenge to remind ourselves about on the Shabbat just before the beginning of Chanukah.

A Time to Refrain, and a Time to Act

Vayishlach

Gen. 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. 34:33 “And it happened on the third day, while they were recovering, that Jacob’s two sons, Simeon and Levi, Dinah’s brother, took each his sword, and came upon the city unopposed, and they killed every male.”

Given the events of recent weeks, I thought I would revisit and update a  d’var torah I wrote in 2008, at the time of the Mumbai massacres in India. The story of the rape of Dinah is not a Sunday school staple. Dinah is raped by a prince of Shechem, who subsequently seeks her hand in marriage. Jacob and his sons concur, provided that the inhabitants of Shechem agree to be circumcised (converted?). While the men are recovering, Simeon and Levi (Dinah’s full brothers) kill all of the male inhabitants of the town. 

            The issues of revenge and justice have been debated through the history of Torah commentary. Most commentators approve of the slaying of Dinah’s rapist (after all, she was raped!), but many question the propriety of slaying the other men of Shechem. Maimonides suggests that it was justified because the people of Shechem failed to abide by one of the 7 Noachide laws binding on all of humanity: establishing systems of justice. Nachmanides believes that the sons acted brutally and took the law into their own hands. Textual support for his position is found in the deathbed statement by Jacob, who curses the anger of Simeon and Levi.

            In our current war against Islamic terror, this debate among our sages about retribution, justice, and the responsibility for evil strikes a contemporary chord. Do those who harbor terrorists deserve death? What is the responsibility of the community of nations when faced with the kind of terror recently experienced in Paris, in Mali, in Syria, and in Israel?

            There are times when it may be appropriate to withhold one’s full strength in the defeat of evil. But when the opponent is a modern Amalek, intent on our destruction, and devoid of any human compassion, the time to defer is not now. While Simeon and Levi acted rashly, they acted in the cause of justice. So must we.

Softness

Vayetze

Gen. 28:10-33:3

Précis: As Jacob travels towards the household of his uncle Laban, he dreams of a ladder 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 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. 29:17 “Leah had soft eyes, but Rachel was of beautiful figure and form"

             Erica Brown, in her Weekly Jewish Wisdom column (5/23/13), notes that being called “soft” is quite derogatory in modern American society, implying a lack of appropriate aggression and assertiveness (especially among women and girls). “Soft” people are easy to use or manipulate; we take advantage of “soft” people. Or to use an up-to-the-minute example, there is a certain Presidential candidate for the Republican nomination who seems to delight in calling others “soft.”

            In our text, softness is compared (probably in a negative way) with beauty. This implies that there was something about Leah which made her less desirable than Rachel. And the story tells us that Jacob loved Rachel, but does not state the same about Leah. But the Sages tell us that Leah was a woman of gentle compassion, thoughtfulness, care and tenderness, and that her goodness was manifest by her numerous offspring. While assertiveness (such as displayed by Sarah) can be viewed as roughness or harshness in interpersonal dealings, softness implies warmth and care.

            Perhaps the text is talking about two different types of beauty, one internal and the other external. While Rachel had the good looks, Leah had the kind soul. Brown cites novelist Kurt Vonnegut, who said, "Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard.”

            In our highly competitive, dog-eat-dog world, perhaps there are times when we should emulate the softness of Leah. Given the events of the last few weeks, all I can say is "perhaps."

Killing in the Name of God

Vayera

Gen. 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. 18:26   “…Will not the Judge of the entire earth do justly?”

            Our belief in God can be challenged by the ongoing killing in His Name by terrorist attacks in Israel and by the despicable actions of ISIS and ISIS-inspired zealots in many parts of the world. How can we believe in God when millions have been killed in His Name over the centuries? Rabbi Avis Weiss has suggested (JTA, 10/20/13) that ethics and morality must originate with God, because, as Freud has suggested, when it comes to self-deception, human beings are geniuses. If Hitler were asked whether the murder of 6 million Jews was ethical, he would say it was. The same is true of the godless communist regimes that murdered millions during the course of the 20th century and of the ISIS adherents.

            But  the concept of morality originating with God is challenged by the story of Sodom, when God appears quite willing to slay innocent bystanders. Abraham of course challenges God, and demands that God adhere to His own justice. Weiss suggests to us that this example means that we are not free to disregard our “inner ethical voices.” As is pointed  in Midrash, “Any love that does not include challenging each other is not true love.” If  God commands us to kill an innocent, we have the responsibility to question, to challenge, to confront God.

            Our tradition comes down firmly on the principle that murder in the name of God is obscene. It is indeed a desecration of God’s name. How remarkably different from those who kill in the name of the God they call Allah.

What we leave, what we take

Lech Lecha

Gen. 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). God promises him an heir. Because Sarai is barren, she offers Abram her servant (Hagar),who gives birth to Ishmael. Abram is promised a son through Sarai, and his name is changed to Abraham, and Sarai’s to Sarah, in recognition of a new Covenant with God, which is then symbolized by Abraham’s 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.’”

Rabbi Eliezer Diamond has written (JTS Torah, 10/31/14 ) about Abram’s father Terach, with an emphasis on the words “from your father’s house” in this famous verse. When we leave a place, he suggests, we leave people behind.

            As is often the case, the Sages were quite willing to “fill in” additional explanation where the narrative text lacks detail. As a son, Abram had filial obligations for his father, since the commandments tell us that we are to honor and revere them. The rabbis explain that one “honors” his father  by not usurping his place (his usual chair) and by not contradicting him (at least in public). One shows “reverence” for his father by making sure that his physical needs (food, housing, and clothing) are satisfied through personal service.

            But now we meet a textual problem. Traditional Judaism posits that Abram fulfilled the mitzvot (even though Revelation was centuries later). If Terach died before Abram left, there is no issue about Abram’s honor or reverence to his father. But if Terach died after Abram’s departure, Abram could not have met his obligation.

            The text lists Terach’s death (11:32) before Abram leaves home (12:5). But earlier, the text states that Terach was 70 when he fathered Abram (11:26), and that Terach died at the age of 210 (11:32). That would imply that Terach lived for 65 years after Abram left. How did Abram meet his obligation to “honor” and “revere” his father?

            Midrash explains: “This teaches you that the wicked are considered as dead even during their lifetimes.” Thus, although Terah lived on after Abram left for Canaan, because he was “wicked” (after all, he was an idol maker!) Abram’s responsibility was ended. The midrash further explains that Abram was concerned about the matter, but was reassured by God: “Abraham was afraid…  that people would say that he abandoned his father in his old age and departed. God spoke to Abram, saying, ‘I exempt you from the obligation to honor your parents; moreover in the Torah I will record your father’s death before your departure.”

            Were the Sages simply trying to deal with a textual ambiguity, or was there more? It is surely an opportunity for them to explain that an individual is not required to honor or revere a wicked parent. But perhaps there is more. As Rabbi Diamond explains, we can imagine Abram leaving his father’s house. We don’t know, of course what he was thinking. But is it possible that Abram told Terach that he was leaving for a faraway place and had adopted a new God to worship, but that he, Abram, nevertheless appreciated all that Terach had done for him, and promised to tell his own children about their ancestor.

            This insight has particular impact on us today, when interfaith marriage causes rifts in many Jewish families, or when families are broken apart by distance or disagreement. As Rabbi Diamond concludes, “There is no going without leaving. But it is for us to choose what we take with us.”

Two Building Projects

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 with sexual overtones 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. 11:1-9 “All the earth had the same language…and as man migrated from the east they settled in the valley… and they said, ‘let us make bricks….and let us build a city and a tower with its top in the sky, and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered all over the earth.’ Adonai came down and said, ‘If, as one people with single voice this is how they have begun to act, then nothing will be out of their reach. Let us go down and confound their speech.’ Thus Adonai scattered them across the face of the earth.”

            This parasha includes the story of two different building projects. The first, of course, is Noah’s Ark, which is built strictly according to the dimensions and plans that God transmits to Noah. The second is the Tower of Babel, which is built by the inhabitants of that land (all of humanity!) according to their own desires. The first succeeds, the latter fails. What are we to  make of this juxtaposition?

            Rashi notes that the building materials for the Tower were significant:  the inhabitants had to make bricks, because they lived in a valley where stone was not available. Ibn Ezra adds that the inhabitants’ use of bricks showed their belief that they themselves were the creators of their world, and they were free to ignore God’s role in creation. These commentaries seem to point to the conclusion that we succeed when we act with  knowledge of God’s involvement in the world, but fail when we ignore His role.

            Today tech advances come faster than we can cope with them. It’s a fact that many alive have witnessed the introduction of radio, television, passenger aircraft, computers, smart phones, and the internet. The pace of change is by far the fastest in history. We are also proud that Israel is among the world’s leaders in technological advancement.

            Nevertheless, this reading reminds us that the Tower of Babel was a remarkable technological achievement for its time. Humanity suffered a disastrous fate when it forgot God’s role in their achievements. Noah succeeded by following God’s plan, and that the Tower fell when the people of Babel allowed their pride in their own achievements to ignore the Divine. In the face of all of the contemporary achievements, we need to temper our pride and thank the Creator who has endowed us with the ability to make remarkable progress.

The Jewish Dichotomy

Sukkot Intermediate Shabbat

Ex. 33:12 – 34:26

34:6-7 “…The Lord! The Lord! A God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness, extending kindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression and sin; yet He does not remit all punishment, but visits the iniquity of parents upon children and children’s children, upon the third and fourth generations.”

     On the Shabbat during Sukkot, we traditionally read the section of Exodus which transpires immediately after the incident of the Golden Calf. Moses is back up on the mountain and carves the second set of tablets. He asks to “see” God’s Presence. He is placed in a cleft in the rock, and he “sees” God’s “back.” God then reveals His attributes to Moses (34:6-7) in the verses cited here.

     If these words sound familiar, it’s because we recited the first verse countless times during Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur (through the words “transgression and sin” before the semi-colon). In the liturgy, we do not continue with the phrase “yet He does not remit all punishment…” nor include the visitation of punishment on subsequent generations. One can argue (as Rabbi Tzvi Marx did during this past Yom Kippur at my congregation in Chevy Chase MD) that this takes the kindness and mercy of God  we are so fervently seeking entirely out of context!

     On the High Holidays, it is of course comforting to focus on God’s mercy and forgiveness when we are in the midst of multiple repetitions of the countless ways we have sinned. But on Sukkot, when we are commanded to celebrate and be joyous, our reading provides us with a reminder that all is not sweetness and light.

     This, I think, describes a dichotomy in Judaism which is as inescapable as it is mysterious. At the somber times, we focus on God’s forgiveness and mercy; in happy times, we focus on the reality of evil that is carried through the generations. Perhaps this is a yin and yang of our tradition: light and darkness, righteousness and sinfulness, forgiveness and punishment. Both are parts of our reality, as our liturgy and texts underscore. Life is as precarious as fiddler on the roof, and as flimsy as a sukkah, but the fiddler’s music can be beautiful and the sukkah can be a place of great joy.

Listening and Hearing

Haazinu

Deuteronomy 32:1-52

Précis: The parasha, the shortest in the Five Books, containing only 52 verses, begins with the “Song of Moses,” a hymn sung by Moses within sight of the Promised Land. The song contrasts God’s fidelity with the faithlessness of the People, and the need of the People to learn from their history under God’s care. Moses predicts that Israel’s enemies will be overcome. He is told to climb a mountain to see the Promised Land he will not to enter, as he prepares for his death. This is the last parasha read on Shabbat in the annual cycle: the final parasha (V’zot Habracha) is read traditionally on Simchat Torah.

Deut. 32:1   “Listen, skies, so that I may speak and let the earth listen to what my mouth says.”

          The beginning words of Moses’ teaching to the People raises an interesting question. Since every word of the Torah is assumed to have importance, why is the verb “listen” repeated? Sometimes, repetition is used for emphasis, and sometimes there is a subtle difference of meaning . In this context, (and as is sometimes stated in other translations) “listen” can also mean “hear.”

            So what’s the difference between “listening” and “hearing?” Hearing is a physical act, and how well one hears depends on whether or not the various parts of our auditory system are operating properly. Listening, however, requires us to engage with the sounds: to apply understanding. Saying “I hear you” does not mean “I am listening to you.”

            I have found (to my distress) that political discourse these days has taken on more of hearing and less of listening. It’s obviously the case with American presidential politics. But it’s also the case among Jews in Israel who are severely splintered, within the American Jewish community which has its own divisions, and in the strains in the relationship between the United States and Israel. We need more “listening” in each case.

            With all of the noise we are surrounded by in 21^st century society, it takes a special effort to really listen. During this season of Repentance, we certainly “hear” prayers which seek self-reflection and a change of heart and action. But we  need to add to that physical act the internal, mental application of understanding and forgiveness; we need to really listen. 

Historical Annihilation

Va Yelech

Deuteronomy 31:1-31:30

Précis: The Israelites are instructed to annihilate the 7 Canaanite nations and take possession of the Promised Land. The death of Moses approaches, and he transfers his mantle of leadership to Joshua as his successor. Moses orders regular reading of the Law, and then transfers the written Torah into the hands of the Levites for safekeeping, in the Ark of the Covenant.

Deut. 31:3 “It is the Lord your God who will cross ahead of you; He will destroy these nations before you, and you shall dispossess them. Joshua is the one who will cross ahead of you, just as the Lord has spoken.” 

           Rabbi David Milder has written (MyJewishLearning.com, 9/16/14) about the commandments to the Israelites to utterly destroy the 7 Canaanite nations and take sole possession of the Promised Land. Such annihilation is abhorrent to our “modern” ears. It gets worse. We are to "doom them to destruction, grant them no terms, and give them no quarter" (7:2), as well as "tear down their altars, smash their pillars...and consign their images to the fire." (7:5)

            We certainly wish that our holy Torah was not quite so violent. But there is a quandary. If the Jews destroy all of these idol worshippers, how is that Moses continually must warn the Israelites against  "alien gods in the Israelites' midst," and how often must he warn them not to "turn to other gods and serve them"? If the Canaanite nations were eliminated, how could future generations of Israelites be led to idol worship by Canaanites?

            Milder suggests that we look to the historical record for some resolution of this dilemma. We assume that the Israelites entered Canaan about 1250 B.C.E. While  Deuteronomy is written as a contemporary account, most modern scholars assume it was in fact written during the rule of King Josiah (circa 621 B.C.), which is almost 6 centuries after the fact (compare: Columbus sailed 523 years ago). His thesis: Deuteronomy represents the issues of the time of its writing. While there were no Canaanite nations during the reign of Josiah, there certainly was idol worship going on. And it is really idol worship that is the crux of the story.

            Josiah was king during a brief respite from foreign domination, and he oversaw a national restoration of religious independence. As King of Judah, Josiah was intent on ending the influence of the Assyrian overlords, which included idol worship. To the writers of Deuteronomy, idol worship was a far greater challenge that the military threat of the Canaanite nations; they believed that if only we had ridden ourselves of idol worship 600 years before, they would not be forced to deal with issue during Josiah’s time. So, in effect, the writers of Deuteronomy are projecting backward to the time of Moses and Joshua the critical issue of their own day. As Milder suggests, “rather than being viewed as a mandate for the annihilation of indigenous peoples, Deuteronomy is best understood as a critique of the idolatrous habits of Jews in a much later age.”

            While this thesis does not make the annihilation of the 7 Canaanite peoples any easier for us to swallow, it may put it in a historical context. And by putting it in a historical conquest, we are left with serious questions: have we in fact annihilated the threats to the Jewish People posed not only by idolatry, but by terrorists? Have we annihilated the mistrust and baseless hatred which exists against Israel and Jews, and between Jews today?

            On Shabbat Shuvah, the Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur when we read this parasha, these remain important questions to consider. How will history written 600 years from now record our actions? 

Choose Life!

Nitzavim

Deuteronomy 29:9 -30:20

Précis: Moses continues to address the People: You stand (nitzavim) this day before Adonai. In his final words to the People, Moses recounts the wonders Adonai had done for them, and calls upon them to remain loyal to God by observing the Covenant. The extent of the relationship is explained: it will survive exile and captivity with a return to the Land. The Torah is an “open book” that is accessible to all. A blessing and a curse have been set before the People, and Moses urges them to choose the blessing, to choose life.

Deut. 30:15,19 “See, I set before you this day life and good, death and evil . . . I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life—so that you and your children after you will live.”

            This year, we read this parasha on the Shabbat immediately prior to Rosh Hashanah, when the idea of repentance and change is squarely before us. As Chancellor Arnold Eisen noted in a d’var torah (JTS Torah 9/19/14), Maimonides, in his Laws of T’shuvah (Repentance), focuses on these verses to eliminate any doubt that we human beings have a choice: good or evil. Moses is ending his final presentation to the Israelites, stressing that the Torah provides a road map for all generations, and that by following the correct route, blessings are possible.

            But Moses is a realist. He knows that what lies across the river he personally will not cross is not an Eden, but a land of milk and honey which must be won. It is a metaphor for the battle which each of us face every year, every month, every day.

            Moses knows that life is not going to be easy, that there will be challenges to face, failures as well as success. We cannot alter the past; we can only commit to change in the future, to make it and mold it as best we can. Much of what will happen seems random and out of our control, but nevertheless, we must keep trying.

            As we approach the New Year, my personal hope is to live a life worth living by trying to do the right thing, knowing full well that I will make mistakes along the way (as I have during the year now ending), but relying upon the possibility of repentance to make my life, and the lives around me, more meaningful. That, in a sense, is what Moses means when he says “choose life.”

Can I Get an "Amen?"

Ki Tavo

Deuteronomy 26:1-29:8

Précis: The parasha contains commandments regarding the formation of a civil and moral community (including tithes to support the Levites). The People are promised that if they follow God’s instructions, they will be transformed into a “holy people.” They are further instructed that they have a choice in their own destiny: there are blessings and curses (the “Admonition”), and they must to choose between the two, and take the consequences. The parasha ends with Moses reminding the People about all that God had done for them in bringing them from Egypt, providing sustenance, defeating their foes, and giving them the Land. 

Deut. 27:11-26   ^“On the same day Moses commanded the people: When you have crossed the Jordan, these tribes shall stand on Mount Gerizim to bless the people.. And these tribes shall stand on Mount Ebal to pronounce curses… The Levites shall recite to all the people of Israel in a loud voice:  ^‘Cursed is anyone who makes an idol…Then all the people shall say, ‘Amen!’ … ^‘Cursed is anyone who dishonors their father or mother’… Then all the people shall say, ‘Amen!’ … ‘Cursed is anyone who does not uphold the words of this law by carrying them out’”…Then all the people shall say, ‘Amen!’”

             Rabbi Dorothy A. Richman has written about the importance of “Amen” (MyJewishLearning.com, 9/9/14). The people are divided onto two adjoining mountains, facing each other. The Levites shout out a series of 12 different sins, and the other 11 tribes cry out together “Amen!” Why? What does “Amen”  really signify?

            The Hebrew root for the word means “firm” and probably means “affirm.” In our tradition, when a congregation says “amen” to a blessing, it is a shared experience which unifies and strengthens commitment. As Rabbi Richman points out, we say “amen” to things we believe and to things we hope will be true. The Talmud teaches us (Shev. 29b) that saying “amen” after a blessing is more praiseworthy that reciting the blessing by oneself. In the Egyptian synagogues of the first centuries of the Common Era, which were so large that those in the rear could not hear the service, flags were waved when it was time to say “amen!”

            But here, the tribes do not join in celebrating a blessing or expressing hope. Rather, they recite “amen” to a series of curses. What are we to make of this? Perhaps it means that the people, together, are expressing their commitment to becoming a holy nation by sharing a common set of core values. And we say “amen” loudly together so that we can hear one another, and take strength from one another as we strive to become the kind of people our tradition asks us to be.

               And a related note: the power of "amen" arises from voices united together. As we approach Labor Day, I note with great regret the anti-union animus which has become so common in America. As we race to the bottom to meet so-called international competition, American workers find themselves with less protection to join together for their mutual benefit. The Labor Movement, which has been the force behind the adoption of Social Security, Medicare, wage and hour regulation, OSHA, and countless other benefits to American society, is in danger of fading away completely. While all institutions have their faults, we should not ignore the blessings provided to us by organized Labor through the work of generations of hard-working American men and women over decades of concerted activity. To which I say, "AMEN!"

Rape as a Weapon

Ki Tetze

Deuteronomy 21:10 - 25:19

Précis:  The parasha might be subtitled “entering society” because it describes the creation of a just and moral social network. It begins with the phrase “when you go forth” (ki tetze) to battle.  This parasha, according to Maimonides, contains 72 mitzvot (commandments). Although they may seem unrelated, they all deal with the morals and values that God wanted to be deeply implanted in the Israelites' society. They cover a wide variety of topics, from family life, human kindness, respect for property and animals, the safety of others, sexual relationships, escaped slaves, financial loans and charging interest, keeping promises, and remembering to blot out the name of one of Israel's greatest enemies. This assortment of commands included requirements that there be sex-distinct clothing; that mother birds not be separated from their eggs; that roof-tops have parapets; that seeds not be mixed in a field, and that “tzitzit” (fringes) be worn on garments.

Deut. 21:10-14   “When you go forth to battle against your enemies… and you see among the captives a woman who…you would have for a wife, you will … shave her head and cut her nails. And she will … mourn for her parents for a full month, and after that you may take her and you will be her husband and she will be your wife.”

The parasha opens with a stark prophesy: when – not if – you go to war, you will take female captives and if you want them, you can have them. This, at first blush, seems to describe centuries of warfare: war, killing, capture, rape. It seems to be remarkably similar to the actions of ISIS!

But there are important differences at work here. The Israelite soldier cannot take the woman immediately. She is provided 30 days’ respite to mourn for her family, during which time her hair and nails are cut and she dons the clothing of a mourner. All seems designed to make her less attractive to her captor. At the end of the time frame, if the Israelite still wants her, he may marry her; otherwise, she is set free; specifically, she may not become a slave, because she has suffered sufficiently already.

The rabbis view these provisions as a way to limit the sexual violence that was widely associated with military action. While we can recognize the Torah’s text is only a limited ban on sexual activity here (after all, the captive woman can be forced to marry her captor), nevertheless we can see that our text takes the initial steps of protecting captive women. Rashi goes further, and links this passage, with the next verses (15-20) dealing with a "hated wife" (whose children must be treated fairly) and the "rebellious son" (who could be put to death). Rashi suggests that taking a captive woman to wife will lead her to being hated, and that offspring will be stubborn and rebellious. By connecting these concepts, Rashi underlines the consequences of acting on our shallowest urges.

We know from the headlines that rape is more than a mere byproduct of modern warfare. Rape is now another instrument of violence by ISIS, other terrorist groups from Africa to India, from parts of the former Soviet Union to drug lords in Central America. Rape is a weapon to demoralize women, their families, and entire societies

Rashi and the Sages reject the concept of sexual predation as a means of warfare, and as Jews, we must voice our own protests against its existence in today’s world.

Pursue, pursue justice

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.”

            Liel Leibovitz, writing in Tablet Magazine (9/2/11), suggests that to modern ears, Moses’ demand in this verse may seem somehow quaint or naive. But, he suggests, this directive is actually quite radical. Prior to Torah, the “law” was what the ruler decided what it was, subject to the ruler’s whim. Now, law was recognized as coming from a Higher Authority, meaning that all, including rulers, were bound by its commands. Justice, Leibovitz suggests, ceased being relative, and became absolute: an offense was no longer just a crime but also a sin against God.

            In addition, this mitzvah required the creation of courts and judges to wisely and impartially render decisions, as verses associated with this mitzvah assert. But that is not the ultimate limit of “justice.” God, Himself, is by our tradition subject to the law He has enunciated. [This is the basis for the reciprocal relationship of the Covenant, and is also a reminder of Abraham’s demand before the destruction at Sodom “…Will not the Judge of the entire earth do justly?” (Gen.18:26)].

            We live in a society where the concept of “justice” is under tremendous scrutiny. Is it “justice” to imprison drug offenders to lifetime sentences? What kind of “justice” leads to the use of military equipment by local police, or to the outrageous number of assaults and murders by police we are experiencing? What kind of "justice" leads the BDSers to single out Israel with their contempt while they ignore the oppression of million by other regimes, and ignore the hundreds of thousands of dead in Syria?

            We live in a world where justice remains a hope, but not an established fact. Perhaps that is the reason the mitzvah is to pursue justice.

The Danger of Intolerance

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 curses result 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  Levites, 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.”

            Rabbi Joseph Heller has taught an interesting lesson about the verses in this part of the parasha (Distance Learning Project 8/23/03). He notes that this the prohibition from Jews “gashing” themselves has an alternative rabbinic interpretation, based on the same Hebrew root:  that Jews are not to divide themselves by adopting different subgroups with different understandings of the law.  

            Verses almost immediately following delve into the laws of kashrut. As I’ve pointed out before, while the attributes of  kosher land and sea creatures are carefully laid out, the “kosher characteristics” of birds is missing. Instead, we get a list of permissible birds to eat. This became an important issue for European Jews of the 16^th century, when turkey from the New World was introduced, and rapidly became popular. Was turkey kosher? Some authorities, citing Mishnaic sources, found it to be kosher; others, citing Rashi and his school of thought, declared it treif (non-kosher). Eventually, a majority of authorities came to recognize that turkey was indeed kosher.

            This story of the great turkey debate is more than a historical footnote. It is a great example of how Jews deal with the commandment of this verse: "Lo titgodedu" (do not divide into rival groups).

            In every era, there have been major disagreements in practice among and between different Jewish groups, and these disagreements run from the trivial to the fundamental. In recent times in Israel, and in parts of other Jewish communities as well, we see that differences become intolerable to some Jews: they demand separate seating on airplanes and buses, they state that Reform Jews are not really Jews. Intolerance and hatred fuels not only religious differences, but seeps into political action as well, as some Jewish extremists find a religious basis for their heinous attacks on gays and Arabs.

            Rabbi Heller notes, “Jews need to retain the ability to ‘talk turkey’ with those who observe differently, so that we remain one people, more than the sum of our parts, rather than disconnected sects.” On the other hand, with the most extreme elements of self-proclaimed “believers” we must stand and condemn, as has the vast majority of Israeli government and rabbinic authorities.

Doom and Gloom or Faith and Hope?

D’varim

Deuteronomy 1:1 - 3:22

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 many 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 also sometimes referred to as the “Priestly Code” by those who ascribe its origin to the Priests of the First Temple era. However, in addition to descriptions of sacrifices and Temple routine, D’varim has two other significant themes: the cosmic relationship between God and the People Israel and the pursuit of social justice in terms of care for the “poor, the widow, and the orphan.” 

                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 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.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, writing in Jewish Ideas Daily (7/17/12) reviews the observances associated with the three weeks between 17 Tammuz and Tisha B’Av, when we remember the destruction of the Temple. One tradition is found in the three special haftarot recited in this period, three examples from the prophets of admonition (the first two from Jeremiah and the third from Isaiah).

               These Jewish prophets were unusual, with no power other than their oratory and vision. In fact, because of their dire messages, they were highly unpopular; Jeremiah was arrested, whipped, and abused, and just managed to escape with his life. 

                Jewish prophets were not engaged in the business of telling the future; the Torah bans soothsayers and oracles. As Sacks notes, Jewish prophecy takes place in “the arena in which the great drama between God and humanity was played out, especially in the history of Israel.”  

                A second element of the Jewish prophets was their understanding that monotheism was directly associated with morality, that idol worship (either physical or metaphorical) was ultimately corrupting to the human spirit.

                Third, they expressed the clear belief that even though Israel would sin and abandon the covenant, God’s love was everlasting, and His promise immutable. Jeremiah is often thought of as the prophet of doom, but such a characterization is incomplete. He also spoke of hope and the inevitability of God’s redemption.

                While our tradition tells us the prophecy ended during the period of the Second Temple, the vision of the Prophets remains applicable to us today. They captured both the sense of doom (an existential threat?) and the sense of redemption (peace and security?). These are aspects of life with which we are all well acquainted today. In this traditional season of admonishment and regret, we cannot forget the message of hope in tomorrow.

Reading with a Sense of Horror

Matot - Masei

Num. 30:02-36:13

Précis: Matot 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.

            The Book of Numbers ends with Masei. “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. 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 Promised Land. All of the Midianite men are to be slain, including the King, and all of the adult women are to be killed. The only survivors are the virgin females. Even the male children are to be killed (and this from people who had their own males children killed in Egypt!).

            We cannot read these verses without some sense of horror. This story has all too many connections with the Holocaust and with the idea of jihad and genocide.

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

            We should understand that this Biblical battle 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, many of whom take pride in their ability to target innocent civilians with the most heinous disregard for life – including their own.

            Having said this, we can take justifiable pride in the efforts of the IDF in setting up strict rules of engagement, and in their  own investigations of allegations of violations of those which are designed at containing the instances of civilian collateral damage. This is so even when Israel is accused of war crimes while its opponents recklessly slaughter hundreds of thousands of innocents: men, women and children. Even during war, the IDF aims for a level of morality which other nations should envy. 

             Nevertheless,there is something so terribly sad in observing that bloody battles 3,000 years ago remain part of human experience today.

Transitions

Pinchas

Num. 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.

Num. 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 once he 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 his successor, seems to be generous and gracious, which is particularly striking since we know that Moses is bitterly disappointed. Midrash helps us to understand Moses’ actions.           

            Midrash tells us that Moses entered 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 will in fact take over the leadership, but Moses would remain around as a kind 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 prior occasions when Moses had gone into the Tent, Moses had refused to tell Joshua what the conversation inside with God had been about. Now the roles are reversed, and Joshua will not speak about his conversation with God. The midrash concludes with Moses stating, “Better that I should die than I should live and envy Joshua.”

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

A People Apart?

Balak

Num. 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 Bilaam to place a curse upon the Israelites. Bilaam begins the journey riding upon his ass, which refuses to proceed and actually talks to Bilaam, protesting Bilaam’s foul treatment of the poor beast. Bilaam sees an angel and refuses to complete Balak’s mission.  Balak reiterates his command to Bilaam to curse the Israelites, but instead Bilaam 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.

Num. 23:9 “For I see it from the tip of the rocks, and I behold it from the hills; this is a people that will dwell apart and not count itself among the nations. “

            Having returned from Israel last night, I find this verse to have particular poignancy. It had been about four years since my last visit, and I was yet again surprised by the changes which had taken place while I was away. This trip, we spent a bit more time in Tel Aviv than on previous visits, and toured (for the first time) the secret ammunition factory at Kibbutz Hill, and the Palmach museum, celebrating the key role they played in defending the nascent state, particularly between the UN adoption of a partition plan in November 1947 and the Declaration of Independence in May, 1948. (The Palmach became a key part of the IDF.) We stood in Independence Hall and sang Hatikvah.

            For 2,000 years, Jews were indeed a people apart from all others. A visit to Israel today, with its bustle, confidence, arguments, beauty, and challenges, should put Bilaam’s statement to rest. But of course, in the eyes of many, Israel should not be counted among the nations. Alone in the world, the Jewish State’s legitimacy is challenged. The fact that such challenges are, for the most part, thinly veiled anti-Semitism is beside the point. That these challenges are made by states and factions which have no conception of human rights is also beside the point.  What is Israel to do, and what are we to do?

            Israel has an answer: Am Yisrael Chai – the people of Israel live. They live every day under threat of annihilation, but remained curiously and miraculously vibrant. They create new scientific wonders and educate their children, build roads and office towers, play at the beaches, dine in cafes and restaurants, and engage in boisterous democratic political debate.

            American Jews also have an answer: support the State. I learned from a good friend in the tourism business there that bookings by Americans are way down, especially among Jewish groups. I urge all who read this to make plans to visit soon. That is, perhaps, the best way we can support the State and People of Israel.