Organizing Principles

B’midbar

Num. 1:1 - 4:20

Précis: B’midbar is an amalgamation of the narrative of wilderness wanderings (including the stories of the spies, Korach’s rebellion, Balaam’s donkey, and the sin of Moses), sacrificial requirements, the establishment of Israel’s moving camp, and census data.

                As B’midbar (“in the wilderness”) begins, Moses is directed to take a census (“take the number”) from which the English name (Numbers) of the Book derives. A detailed listing of the numbers of each tribe follows; each tribe is apportioned a particular location in the camp. A listing of the Levitical families then follows, together with the beginning of a discussion of their duties.                

                B’midbar, according to Rabbi Plaut, continues the narrative from Exodus (which was largely interrupted by Leviticus), and begins about a year after the liberation, covering the wandering in the desert. He notes that details are provided for only the first and last years, with the “middle” 38 left mostly to our imaginations. The focus of the Book appears to “point to this moment when Israel is poised to take possession of its inheritance.” 

Num. 1:1 - 2 “And Adonai spoke to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai… saying, ‘Take the sum of the congregation of the children of Israel, by their families, by their father’s houses, according to the number of names, every male, by their polls.’”

            There is a certain sense of completion with this opening verse. Genesis begins with God’s creation of order out of chaos. B’midbar begins with God’s demand to organize the Jewish People after their chaotic escape from slavery in Egypt.

            Rabbi Lisa Grushcow, writing in ReformJudaism.org (5/19/18) suggests that the parasha in general and the census in particular have three important “organizing principles.” The first is that everyone counts. We may like them, we may not like them, but they all count. As an organized religion, we are required to carry with us the names of these long-dead individuals, just as the Israelites carried Joseph’s bones during their trek in the wilderness.

            Second, God is at the center. The text tells us that God’s presence in the Tent of Meeting is situated in the center of the People. Some today may find the concept of God’s centrality in our lives as uncomfortable, but there is no doubt that our text and tradition insist on this second organizing principle.

            Third, we must be humble. This is derived from the first organizing element that all are important, and the second that God is at our center. Humility is necessary for the fist two principles to be maintained and honored.

            I often ask my students why a particular man-made law or rule we review during our history classes  was written. Often, the response is made that the rule or law was introduced because people were doing things which the ruling authorities wanted to rein in. In this instance, God is perhaps acting not only to rein in the chaos of the people, but also to remind us that everyone counts, and that God is indeed in the center of our universe. Only then can we become necessarily humility.

Ethical Muscle Memory

Bechukotai

Lev. 26:3 - 27:34

Précis: The parasha, the final parasha in Vayikra, begins with a statement promising blessing if the People follow Adonai’s ways. The blessings are discussed in detail. But, if the People disobey, terrible punishments will be visited upon them, and these, too, are listed in agonizing detail. The Book of Leviticus then concludes (as it opened) with regulations regarding the upkeep of the Sanctuary, from voluntary tithes, land gifts, firstborn redemption, and the tithes of flocks.

Lev. 26: 3 “If you follow My laws and faithfully observe My commandments, I will grant you rains in their season ...

            The parashah begins with the Hebrew word “chok” (here translated as law). But historically, the Sages differentiated between “chukim” and “mishpatim.” The “chukim” were laws we are obligated to follow even though we do not understand the reason behind them (why are there specific kinds of animals for sacrifice? Why should arcane rituals be used to vouch for a woman’s faithfulness?). Mishpatim are those laws for which a rational explanation is readily available (don’t kill, don’t steal, leave the corner off your fields for the poor).

            This disparity runs counter to our modern understanding of why mitzvot should be followed. As Rabbi Juan Mejia has stated (Torah Sparks, 1/4/16) today individuals “consent to laws and ideas precisely because they understand them.” Mejia cites a 16th century Polish commentator, Rabbi Ephraim and his commentary “Keli Yakar” which suggests that we read more than the first word to understand its significance. “If you are to walk in my laws” is the proper understanding of the opening phrase. The first step, in other words, is to train ourselves, even if we don’t know why. The repetition of good habits and routines will make proper behavior “second nature” or, in a more modern phrase “muscle memory.”

            Nevertheless, we remain suspicious of rote behavior, despite the fact that many of us engage in physical activity (treadmills, weights, running) which is repetitious. I admit being guilty of such behavior, probably because I see the future benefit of maintaining good health.

             This parasha gives us another picture of our future: bountiful harvests, rain, and dominion over our land. All we need do is observe mitzvot, whether or not we understand the rationale for them.

            As Mejia suggests, this is not a new issue for Jewish debate. As he notes in conclusion, “The Talmudic rabbis, living in an age of vulnerability and precariousness, shifted the endgame metaphysically to the world to come. In later centuries, Jewish sages continued trying to find compelling frameworks for halacha that transcend it but do not do without it. The philosophers set the goal of intellectual enlightenment. The Kabbalists strove for the mystical reconnection of the world to the Godhead. The masters of Musar aimed for a life of ethical perfection. The Hasidim sought to frame Jewish Law in simple devotion and joy. In our days of sovereign selves, what would the final product look like? In what specific ways is Torah supposed to make us flourish? This urgent agenda must be addressed, individually and collectively, so that the forest is not lost among the trees.”