Parashat Chukat

This Shabbat’s Torah portion contains a theme which runs through the entire book of Numbers: the complaints of the Israelites. This week, their complaints are about the lack of water in the camp. Midrash tells us that the water dried up at this point in the wanderings because Moses’ sister Miriam died. Until now, say the rabbis of our tradition, sweet water had been flowing for the Israelites to drink in the harsh desert because a well followed Miriam wherever she went. Water was a large part of Miriam’s life. It was she who placed Moses in the Nile, she led our people in dance and song after our miraculous deliverance from slavery.

 

Whenever we find Miriam together with water we find her celebrating nature and the connection between God and the wonders of the natural world. She dances, sings and lives in harmony with the environment. And for this reason, amongst her other merits, Miriam’s well follows the Israelites in the desert, sustaining and nurturing them. But when she dies and is buried, the water ceases to flow and the well becomes as empty and dry as the harsh, cruel desert. It is then the Israelites begin complaining about the lack of water. Moses takes their complaint to God who says that Moses should go to a certain rock, speak to it, and it will produce water. Moses goes to the rock, the people are nagging and taunting him and instead of talking with the rock, he hits it twice with his rod. The water pours forth, the Israelites drink but Moses is denied entry into the Promised Land.

 

Throughout the ages, students and teachers of Torah have been perplexed by this passage and the seemingly harsh punishment given to Moses. For what appears to be a relatively minor indiscretion, he is denied the fulfillment of his life’s work. Most of the traditional interpretations suggest that Moses was punished for losing his temper.

 

But Rabbi Ephraim Rubinger offers a radical and different interpretation. He says instead of looking at Moses’ anger, we should look at the different relationships Moses and Miriam had with nature and the natural world. Until the moment when Moses was asked to speak to the rock, he had been manipulating nature for his own purposes, while Miriam praised and delighted in it. Moses tapped the energy of the world and made it change and work for him; he changes water into blood, a stick to a snake, light to dark and he splits the sea.

 

All this was done by God with Moses acting as agent, but still, his interaction with the natural world was all about changing it, whereas Miriam was about being with it. That was a delicate balance which worked, until Miriam died. Then it was Moses’ duty to take on the dual approach; to both use nature and be with it. That is why God wanted him to talk to the rock and not beat it. He was to stop beating nature into submission and instead learn to work in harmony with it as Miriam had done. God recognized that unless Moses was able to do that, recognize the beauty, spirituality and sanctity of the natural world, he could not lead the people in the Promised Land. Despite Moses’ fabulous qualities, without the spiritual nature that Miriam possessed, without that connection to the world, Moses could not succeed. When Moses hit the rock instead of speaking with it he demonstrated that he did not learn the lesson from Miriam. He was still trying to manipulate nature with force and it was such a grave sin that he was not permitted to lead the people into the Promised Land.

 

Today we often behave as Moses did, divorcing nature from spirit and emotion so that we can exploit and manipulate it to serve our own purposes. We have the power, more than ever before, to shape the world for our own ends and we are learning the lesson God tried to teach us through Moses; we cannot only master the natural world, we need to learn to be in harmony with it and connected to it. To be like Miriam; recognize the wonders of nature and praise the God who made them, then work to achieve sustainable development. 

Parashat Chukat

This Shabbat’s Torah portion contains a theme which runs through the entire book of Numbers: the complaints of the Israelites. This week, their complaints are about the lack of water in the camp. Midrash tells us that the water dried up at this point in the wanderings because Moses’ sister Miriam died. Until now, say the rabbis of our tradition, sweet water had been flowing for the Israelites to drink in the harsh desert because a well followed Miriam wherever she went. Water was a large part of Miriam’s life. It was she who placed Moses in the Nile, she led our people in dance and song after our miraculous deliverance from slavery.

 

Whenever we find Miriam together with water we find her celebrating nature and the connection between God and the wonders of the natural world. She dances, sings and lives in harmony with the environment. And for this reason, amongst her other merits, Miriam’s well follows the Israelites in the desert, sustaining and nurturing them. But when she dies and is buried, the water ceases to flow and the well becomes as empty and dry as the harsh, cruel desert. It is then the Israelites begin complaining about the lack of water. Moses takes their complaint to God who says that Moses should go to a certain rock, speak to it, and it will produce water. Moses goes to the rock, the people are nagging and taunting him and instead of talking with the rock, he hits it twice with his rod. The water pours forth, the Israelites drink but Moses is denied entry into the Promised Land.

 

Throughout the ages, students and teachers of Torah have been perplexed by this passage and the seemingly harsh punishment given to Moses. For what appears to be a relatively minor indiscretion, he is denied the fulfillment of his life’s work. Most of the traditional interpretations suggest that Moses was punished for losing his temper.

 

But Rabbi Ephraim Rubinger offers a radical and different interpretation. He says instead of looking at Moses’ anger, we should look at the different relationships Moses and Miriam had with nature and the natural world. Until the moment when Moses was asked to speak to the rock, he had been manipulating nature for his own purposes, while Miriam praised and delighted in it. Moses tapped the energy of the world and made it change and work for him; he changes water into blood, a stick to a snake, light to dark and he splits the sea.

 

All this was done by God with Moses acting as agent, but still, his interaction with the natural world was all about changing it, whereas Miriam was about being with it. That was a delicate balance which worked, until Miriam died. Then it was Moses’ duty to take on the dual approach; to both use nature and be with it. That is why God wanted him to talk to the rock and not beat it. He was to stop beating nature into submission and instead learn to work in harmony with it as Miriam had done. God recognized that unless Moses was able to do that, recognize the beauty, spirituality and sanctity of the natural world, he could not lead the people in the Promised Land. Despite Moses’ fabulous qualities, without the spiritual nature that Miriam possessed, without that connection to the world, Moses could not succeed. When Moses hit the rock instead of speaking with it he demonstrated that he did not learn the lesson from Miriam. He was still trying to manipulate nature with force and it was such a grave sin that he was not permitted to lead the people into the Promised Land.

 

Today we often behave as Moses did, divorcing nature from spirit and emotion so that we can exploit and manipulate it to serve our own purposes. We have the power, more than ever before, to shape the world for our own ends and we are learning the lesson God tried to teach us through Moses; we cannot only master the natural world, we need to learn to be in harmony with it and connected to it. To be like Miriam; recognize the wonders of nature and praise the God who made them, then work to achieve sustainable development. 

Parashat Korach

Holiness: It’s not a given, it’s an aspiration

 

This week we learn of the conflict between Moses and his fellow Levites, the latter group led by the infamous rebel Korach, which reflects their different understanding of our relationship with God. Korach basis his understanding of the relationship on the story of creation: “God created human in God’s image, in the image of God, God created human; male and female God created them.” This verse teaches the ultimate equality and divinity of each human being. The rabbis learn from that verse that no human being can say to another “my blood is redder than yours”; that each human has equal dignity.

 

Korach seems to presage the rabbi’s teaching with his words of attack against Moses and Aaron: “ You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and the Lord is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above the Lord’s congregation?” Yet the challenge of Korach is considered one of the worst rebellions in the Jewish tradition. How can we resolve this apparent problem?

 

We must acknowledge that Moses and Aaron understood differently our relationship with God. They accepted the notion that from creation each person has equal dignity before God. However, they also understood individual “divinity” as the beginning of our relationship, not the end. Coming out of Egypt, God instructs the people through Moses, “You shall (emphasis added) be holy for I the Lord your God am holy.” This verse exists within the broader teachings of Torah. Every human soul may be divine, but we only live a holy life through learning Torah and embracing its mitzvot (obligations of doing right and avoiding wrong). Just before we read about the rebellion of Korach, we read the words in Torah that are so important to our values system they have been placed in our liturgy as final paragraph of the Shema. These words hearken back to the beginning of the revelation at Sinai, instructing: “Then you will remember and observe all My mitzvot and be holy before your God.” Our potential holiness derives from our actions, even if our equal dignity derives from our creation. Korach’s rebellion is considered so damaging because in his conflation of ideas from the Torah he actually undermines essential principles of Judaism. Holiness is an attribute that must be achieved by daily practice of right action. Korach intentionally confuses with misuse of language (itself a violation of Torah and thus a negation of holiness), sounding as if he is defending Torah principles in reality he overturns. This fomenting of rebellion through manipulation of others remains a plague upon humanity to this day.

 

We must be vigilant in our language and clear in our concepts, open to learning from teachers who exemplify intelligence, integrity, and the application of Torah in daily life. This Shabbat may we learn from Moses, not led astray by Korach. 

Parashat Shelach Lecha

On being a commanded Jew

 

The conclusion of this week’s parashah, Shelach Lecha, consists of the verses of Torah (Numbers 15:37-41) that have become known in our liturgy as the third paragraph of the Shema. There we are taught that we should look at the tzitzit, or the fringes on our garments, in order to remember the mitzvot, or commandments of God, and do them. It is clear that we Jews are an ancient people and that the mitzvot as learned from the Torah provide the structure for our way of life. Less clear is what exactly are the mitzvot and how they operate as time unfolds.

 

For over a thousand years Jews have spoken of the “613 mitzvot”, but nowhere in the Torah or the Mishnah does it mention how many mitzvot there are. Rather, one passage in the Talmud, in the name of the third century sage Rabbi Simlai, teaches that “613 mitzvot were communicated to Moses, 365 negative (you shall not) corresponding to the number of days in the solar year and 248 positive (you shall) corresponding to the number of bones in the body.” (TB Makkot 24a). In this Talmudic passage Rabbi Simlai’s position is then countered by seven other opinions. One, quoting the prophet Micah 6:8, asserts there are just three principles – “to pursue justice, act with loving-kindness and walk humbly with God.” Another, referring to Amos 5:4 asserts there is just one – “to seek God that you might live.” In a sense, the Talmudic passage is playing with mnemonic devices to query what it means to be a Jew in service to God, for nowhere in the Talmud is there a list of the 613 mitzvot. The opinions of the various voices in this passage suggest the pursuit of justice and living with faith are central to the Jew, Rabbi Simlai being understood to say that every day each of us should serve God with every bone of our body.

 

It took hundreds of years from Talmudic times before the rabbis of the Middle Ages began writing “Books of Mitzvot” in which they enumerated the 613 mitzvot, that of Maimonides now being the most well known and widely authoritative count. However, other medieval sages wrote other collections, and while there is general agreement about the categories of mitzvot and their content, there is lack of agreement as to what exactly are the 613.

 

Further, nearly half of the 613 according to those counts cannot be done because of the destruction of the Temple. So the litmus test of “613 mitzvot” may not be as important as accepting in general the principle that a Jew is to live a life of obligation as opposed to entitlement.

 

Meanwhile, Shelach Lecha suggests in the opening story of the scouts sent to spy out the Promised Land that even when we agree on what we see, we will necessarily disagree on how to interpret those observations. While all twelve agree that the land flows with milk and honey, ten of the twelve report that “we must have looked like grasshoppers to the inhabitants.” Caleb and Joshua disagree. This story highlights that “facts” are always subject to interpretation, and examples of subjectivity and interpretation abound in law, science, art and life.

 

Interpretation of Torah is no different, and that is why its study is so rich and rewarding. The Torah calls for capital punishment, an eye for an eye, and the execution of the rebellious child. Our earliest sages recognized that sometimes the literal words of Torah could end up not being in the service of God and needing to be re-framed: a court that issued a death penalty twice in seventy years was a murderous court, it was “the value of an eye for the loss of an eye”, and there was no such thing as a rebellious son in the first place. Other laws could be expansively applied – such as the avoidance of cruelty to animals leading to a prohibition against factory farming of them. In rabbinic tradition, Torah and mitzvot must be part of a system “whose ways are ways of pleasantness and all its paths are peace.” (Proverbs 3:17).

 

Judaism, in all its varieties, teaches that the mitzvot provide the basis for a Jew’s living a life toward God. Consistent themes over the thousands of years are that we should pursue justice, act with compassion, and be humble before the awesome mystery of God – the incomparable One existing beyond all time and space. Shelach Lecha teaches that all interpretation is subjective, suggesting that we should consider “looking at the tzitzit and remembering the mitzvot of God” in a more inclusive and less judgmental light.

Parashah Naso

Saint or Sinner

 

In our parasha this week we read the curious ritual of the Nazir, or the Nazarite vow. Any person in the Israelite community could choose to make this vow and they would specify the length of time during which they would become a Nazarite. During that period, they vowed not to come into contact with the dead (not even their own parents should they die), not to cut their hair and not to drink wine or eat any grape or grape products. At the end of their term as a Nazarite, the person brought an offering to the Temple, their hair was cut and burned and they returned to normal life. The Nazarite vow is such an unusual tradition and its meaning and purpose is mired in controversy.

 

There are rabbis who suggest that the Nazarite is to be admired and that their vow is an act of piety. Within the Israelite community the Cohenim, the priests and the Levites had outlets for their spirituality and connection to God. They had duties and roles where they could express their religious fervor. But the regular Israelites had not such channel of expression so the rites of the Nazarite provided them with the means by which they could demonstrate a desire to draw closer to God in a very public way. So the Nazarite was to be applauded and admired for their devotion to God and their self denial in order to achieve that goal. According to this perspective, the reason the Nazarite was required to bring a sin offering at the end of their term was because they were stopping their special behavior and returning to the mundane of normal life, no longer pursuing the holy path.

 

On the other hand, there are those who look upon the Nazarite vow as coming from a different place. They suggest that a person only takes this path to curb their excesses, usually in the area of alcohol consumption. It is argued that the Nazarite requires a structure around them to avoid temptation and to place their lives back on track. There are others who look upon the Nazarite with distain and argue that the Nazarite is a religious zealot and should be set apart from the community rather than be applauded for their behavior.

 

One priest went so far as to refuse to accept offerings from Nazarites because he saw them as sinners. They were, in his mind, people who deliberately denied themselves the good bounty of the earth in order to publicly show their false piety. He argued that the reason for bringing a sin offering at the end of their term as a Nazarite was because they had sinned by taking the vow and they were required to repent for their wrongdoing.

 

So which is it? Is the Nazarite a saint or a sinner? Perhaps they are a little of both. It is admirable to work to change behavior and curb excesses which may lead a person to harm themselves or those around them, and in that case a period of abstinence can be beneficial to turn them back to the right path again. But providing a vehicle for religious excess and zealotry is never a good path to take. If the Nazarite is so behaving to display publicly their piety in order to attract attention and accolades that is antithetical to the humility and religiosity required by the Torah. So the lesson of the Nazarite is to take the path of moderation, enjoying the bounty of the earth which God has provided for us, and continuing in whatever way possible to connect with our spiritual essence. 

B’midbar

In this week’s parashah, Moses is commanded to take a detailed census of each of these tribes. However, there was to be one exception – the Levites (B’midbar 2:49). Counting them was prohibited. Rather, the Levites were instructed to take care of the the tabernacle housing the tablets that Moses brought down from Sinai. It was their duty to break down the mishkan and to and to re-erect it during their journey. The Levites were to work on behalf of the community, preserving the communal relationship with God.

 

Also in this week’s parashah, God instructs the Levites to take the place of the first born of Israel: “I have taken the Levites from among the Israelites in place of the first male offspring of every Israelite woman. The Levites are to be Mine” (B’midbar 3:11-13). When we investigate the status of the first-born son, we find the identical sentiment: “Sanctify to Me all the first-born males. The first offspring of every womb belongs to Me “. (Shemot 13:13-14). Why does God choose to claim one of each of our offspring as God’s own? Why did the Levites take their place?“At the time that I smote every first born in the land of Egypt, I consecrated every first born in Israel… to be Mine”. We left Egypt only after the first-born son of the Egyptians was killed. The cost of our freedom was another family’s trauma. We remain eternally in debt. For this reason, God demands our first born to oversee God’s service on behalf of all the people Israel. We are never allowed to forget the price of our freedom.

 

However, after the unanimous acceptance of Torah at Sinai, this burden moved from each of the households of Israel to only the Levites. When Moses returned from the mount and witnessed the dancing around the golden calf, he provided an ultimatum: “Whoever is for God, come here”. (Shemot 32:26). Moses’ fellow Levites came to his side. From this time forward the Levites accepted the mantle of representing the entire people with their commitment to live with kedushah, holiness, service to God.

 

Just as the Levites were to motivate the rest of the Israelites in service to God, the Israelites have been called to be a “Kingdom of Priests and a holy nation (Vayikra 19:6)” and thereby become “a light unto the nations”. As the Levites are the smallest of the tribes, so we are among the smallest of peoples.

 

As their rituals and rights were distinct from all the other tribes, so our rites, rituals, and memories ensure that we are distinct. Just as the Levites were to take responsibility for the condition of the entire people, so our role is to accept responsibility for the entire world.

 

Being a Jew means living with this responsibility. We either live according to this responsibility, or do not. The loss of the Egyptian firstborn so that we could experience freedom forces each and every one of us to value our own lives and the lives of our children even more. The Levites were witnesses to us, as we are called to witness to the world that to live is a privilege, to serve an obligation.

Land rights

Land Rights

 

We Jews are often described as “the people of the book” but as much, if not more than that, we can be described as “the people of the land,” for our connection with the land of Israel is thousands of years strong. For much of that time we have been without the land, we have yearned, prayed and longed for her soil, we have dreamed of the day when we could once again return and touch the land, kiss her ground and connect once again with the soil and soul of our people. Like the Indigenous Australians who have a deep and visceral link to land, we too have an unbroken tie to the land of Israel. In our parasha this Shabbat, we read that we are to “redeem the land.” What does it mean to redeem land? At its face, the Torah is speaking about the shmita year, the one year in every seven when we are to allow the land to lie fallow, to eat only the produce which is given forth naturally from the soil. We are not to cultivate or sow, but rather we allow the earth to breathe, we give it the space to rest, rejuvenate and exhale. But perhaps there is more to redeeming land that just allowing it to lie fallow every seven years. Perhaps we are to constantly redeem the land by recognizing it as its own living, breathing organism which needs to be protected and nurtured.

 

Recently I was discussing a relatively new area of law with a friend of mine. She said that there are a number of people who are advocating for land rights, but not in the way we might imagine the term. They suggest that just as humans have rights and require protection, so too should the land. Just as we should not enslave one another, so too we should not enslave the land, for it also has the right to be free. I profess to know very little about the legal arguments but I find the concept as I have understood it, to be fascinating; viewing the land and the earth as an entity with rights. And if we do that, what flows is a responsibility upon us to respect and care for that entity.

 

Too often we approach the land as a tool which should provide us with all that we desire, caring little for its welfare or long term well being. But if we shift our thinking to imagine the land as more than soil, we also automatically adjust our approach to its care.

 

The Torah calls upon us to “liberate the land,” to afford it the freedoms we would wish for ourselves and others and to care for and protect its welfare.