Free Fish?

B’haalot’cha

Num. 8:1 - 12:16

Précis: The parasha begins with a description of the making of the seven-branched menorah, a 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). Following is a discussion of the making of silver trumpets. The cloud of God’s Presence lifts, and the march of the People through the wilderness of 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. 11:4-5 “The rabble with them began to crave other food, and again the Israelites started wailing and said, “If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost—also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic.”

Rabbi Daniel Goldfarb reminds us of a wonderful story which seems perfectly suited to these verses (Torah Sparks, 6/7/17)

            The story is told of a young monk who joins a silent monastery. The rules are simple, the abbot tells him. "You can speak two words every ten years." After ten years the young monk says "Bed hard." Ten years later, "Food bad." After 30 years he tells the abbot, "I quit." The senior monk looks at him and says, "I'm not surprised. You've been complaining ever since you got here."   Goldfarb concludes that the monk could not be Jewish: his first complaint was not about food!

            Complaining about the food, early and often, is a very old Jewish custom, and is certainly illustrated here. Even more incredible is the way in which their true history of hard labor, terrible taskmasters, and the rest, has been forgotten. They even “remember” being given “free fish.” While some commentators suggest that this was because fish were plentiful in the river, Rashi rejects this idea. “Free” (hinam) means to Rashi “free of the commandments.” In other words, having been given burdensome commandments at Sinai, the People looked back upon their time in Egypt as somehow easier.

            As we learn in Pirkei Avot (3:21), if there is no flour (material sustenance) there is no Torah, and vice versa.  Our tradition suggests we need both sustenance and Torah. We are not ascetic or pleasure-obsessed. As Goldfarb concludes, we need to strike the same balance today that the Jews faced at Sinai. 

A Moral Inventory

Naso

Num. 4:21-7:89

Précis: The parasha (the longest of the weekly readings) opens with a continuation of the listing of the Levitical families and their duties regarding the transportation of holy vessels. This is followed by a brief commandment concerning restitution for wrongs. The parasha then turns to a mysterious procedure for testing a wife’s fidelity when questioned by her jealous husband. Next, we have a discussion of the laws of Nazerites, and the recitation of the “Priestly Benediction.” The parasha concludes with the presentation of identical gifts by each tribe for the dedication of the Altar.

Num. 5:6-7 “Speak to the Israelites: ‘When a man or a woman commits any wrong towards a fellow man, thus breaking faith with Adonai, and that person realizes his guilt, he shall confess the wrong that he has done. He shall make restitution in the principal amount and add one-fifth to it, giving it to him whom he has wronged.’”

Rabbi Vered L. Harris has asked how we are to determine whether or not we have committed a wrong against another and, more importantly, how we are to recognize our guilt in the context of these verses (Reform Voices of Torah 5/29/17). Harris suggests that we adopt the 4^th of the 12 steps originally introduced by Alcoholics Anonymous: taking a moral inventory.

Harris notes that we are repeatedly commanded by the Torah to “love.” But we must ask, “what is love?” Our text describes “love” not as an emotion but rather through action. By taking a fearless moral inventory of what we do or fail to do, we learn whether we have truly “loved” ourselves, our families, our friends, and our acquaintances.

And societally, acts of love must reflect justice and mercy towards those who are like us and to those who are “others.” We are repeatedly commanded to see to the welfare of the stranger, the orphan, and the widow, groups representing the most endangered members of a community. When we take a moral inventory of our acts individually and as a society, how can we fail to acknowledge our mistreatment of the “others” who dwells among us?