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Throughout the Torah, we hear many descriptions of Moshe (Moses), but a particularly powerful descriptor comes once he has died at the age of 120.
“Moses was a hundred and twenty years old when he died; his eyes were undimmed and his vigor unabated.” - “וּמֹשֶׁ֗ה בֶּן־מֵאָ֧ה וְעֶשְׂרִ֛ים שָׁנָ֖ה בְּמֹת֑וֹ לֹא־כָהֲתָ֥ה עֵינ֖וֹ וְלֹא־נָ֥ס לֵחֹֽה”
There are a lot of different interpretations of what this means. Some say this means he exuded the same light that shone from him as he descended Mount Sinai / Har Sinai for all of the days of his life. Others say this means his body did not show signs of aging even as he reached such an advanced age, and that he remained youthful even at 120.
What does one do to remain youthful / have a long life? Personally, I have been anxious about aging since my 10th birthday. (Seriously, I remember crying on my final night as a 9 year old with the recognition that I will never be one digit ever again!!) And it was just my 24th birthday (I am approaching my mid-twenties and I don’t know how to feel about it), which led me to some reflection on my values in general.
In his commentary on this parsha, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks cites the Grant Study, which longitudinally tracked the lives of 268 Harvard students since 1938. The Grant Study sought to understand what leads to human flourishing. The psychiatrist George Vaillant wrote a number of books about the findings of this study.
There are 2 dimensions of successful aging that are related to Moshe.
A concept called “generativity,” or investing in forms of life and work that will outlive yourself. We have a choice once we reach a comfortable state of living - be static, or give back to others now that we ourselves are stable. A concept called “keeper of the meaning,” which refers to the wisdom that comes with age. Our elders are respected for their life experiences, and valued for passing on that wisdom to the younger generations.Moshe has spent the entire book of Devarim (Deuteronomy) performing generativity. Instead of hanging out, relying on his laudable past, or rehashing his mistakes, Moshe spends his final 5 weeks teaching the next generation how to live their lives, rehashing their history as a people and refreshing their memories on how to be moral, upstanding people in a social context. What good does setting B’nei Yisrael (the Children of Israel) up for success do for Moshe? Well, nothing. He’s planting the seeds for the next generation with the knowledge he will never see the benefits.
And regarding being a “keeper of the meaning” — we cannot count the amount of times “teach this to your children” has been said in the Torah. We are all about valuing the wisdom of old and making it new by teaching it to the young.
This is reminiscent of the difference between hiddush (newness) and hidhadshut (renewal). Newness for the sake of new is worthless because it’s not rooted in anything deeper or meaningful. Renewal is taking the wisdom of the old with us into the new.
Moshe remained youthful till 120 because he retained hope for the future through all of his days. He never lost sight of the value of the next generation.
I have always been someone who is impressed by success in any form. You’re a math genius who scored a perfect 36 on the ACT? You have me in absolute awe. You’re a supremely gifted dancer who can kick your face? I bow at your perfectly pointed toes. You’re an innovative computer engineer who knows 10 coding languages? I don’t understand you, but I respect you.
But when I moved to New York, I realized there are lots of successful people everywhere.
Cont’d…
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Wow we’re in the second-to-last portion of the Torah! Moshe Rabbenu, Moses our Teacher, for the entire book of Devarim (Deuteronomy) has been giving B’nei Yisrael, the Children of Israel, his last words of wisdom. As we know, Moshe, will not be entering the Land with the People. So, like a parent about to send their child off to college, Moshe is trying to capture all the things the kid needs to know before launching them out into the world.
We spend a lot of Sefer Dvarim (the Book of Deuteronomy) recapping the events of the past 40 years while also talking about the way that the Jewish people should conduct themselves once they enter the Land of Israel. In last week’s Torah portion, we read about a “song” that B’nei Yisrael should write for themselves and teach their children. This “song” represents the Torah but it also refers to an actual section of this week’s parsha - Shirat Haazinu, the Song of Haazinu (the name of the portion). The section describes how B’nei Yisrael will turn away from G-d once things start going well when they enter the Land of Israel.
The text explains that this “song” should bear witness against the Jewish people - predicting that B’nei Yisrael will stray. G-d not only predicts that B’nei Yisrael will stray, but also predicts how G-d and the Jewish people will react to these events.
The text says, "And I will kindle My anger against them on that day [i.e. at that time] and leave them, for I will hide My face from them, and terrible things will befall them - and they will say on that day [at that time] - it is because God is not in our midst that these evils have befallen us"
So B’nei Yisrael strays, and G-d gets angry, sending bad things to them. But by saying that G-d isn’t in their midst, it sounds like B’nei Yisrael blaming G-d for the “terrible things that will befall them.” They’re saying, “Well G-d has turned from us and that’s why these bad things are happening, not because we did anything bad!”
What we have here is a seeming showdown between G-d and the Jewish people. And because Moshe sees that this situation could be in the future for both parties, Moshe gives over Shirat Haazinu, preparing future generations.
Moshe opens the song commanding B’nei Yisrael to listen - he then praises G-d, following the praise with the statement, “Destruction is not His; it is His children's defect you crooked and twisted generation.”
Moshe is saying, “Do not blame G-d for your straying … it’s not that G-d isn’t among you, it’s your own doing!”
Moshe goes on, “Is this how you repay the Lord, you disgraceful, unwise people?! Is He not your Father, your Master? He has made you and established you.”
These statements directly confront B’nei Yisrael’s inevitable question - whose fault is it that bad things are happening? Theirs / ours!
If B’nei Yisrael is fully blaming G-d for bad things in their midst, then they have misinterpreted the last part of “He has made you and established you.” Just because we are G-d’s people does not mean that G-d acts like a fairy godmother to our every wish, poof-ing away any trouble. The covenant that the Jewish people have with G-d is one of reciprocation, of responsibility. We have Bechira Chofshit, free will, which means we are accountable for our actions.
Cont’d…
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The Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is called Shabbat Shuva, or the Shabbat of Return. Not, as could be easily misunderstood as Shabbat TEshuva (Shabbat of Repentance). Of course the word for Teshuva is related to shuva because they both come from לָשׁוּב / Leshuv, to return.
Return and repentance are definitely related. When we repent, we are returning to the self we were before we did the deed we wanted to repent for.
In this week’s parsha, Vayelech, B’nei Yisrael are doing their own kind of returning - they are about to cross the Jordan and enter the Land of Israel, finally! Eretz Yisrael is now in their future, but it’s also a part of their past. Their ancestors - Avraham (Abraham), Yitzchak (Isaac), and Yaakov (Jacob) all lived there once upon a time. Moving forward, then for the tribes, is returning to the place of the past.
When we repent, we return to our purest, truest selves, and Shabbat Shuva is a time to tune into this self. We have this whole Aseret Yemei Teshuva, the 10 Days of Repentance from Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur, and Shabbat Shuva is smack in the middle of these.
I picture a seesaw. On one side sits the self we began the holidays with. Perhaps this self is a bit scuffed, wearing a sour expression, but off in the distance, on the other side of the see saw, is the self we want to end Yom Kippur with - the self that is shining, gleaming, pure and is wearing a serene expression.
Where we are now is the center of the seesaw. We are between the two selves, and we have the choice where we want to end.
This is inspired by a teaching of the Rambam, Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, Maimonides. He taught in Hilchot Teshuva, the Laws of Teshuva, that we should view ourselves all year as if we are half innocent and half guilty. If we commit one sin, we tip the seesaw to the guilty side. And it we just do one mitzvah, we tip the seesaw to the righteous side. (Well he didn’t say the part about the seesaw, that’s me…)
Rav Kook taught that the Jewish people are a collective soul. We are all sparks from the same source, so when we sin, we are sinning on behalf of all of the people. The same, of course, goes for when we perform mitzvot. We are acting righteously on behalf of all of the people, then, too.
Speaking of acting on behalf of the Klal, the whole community… In this week’s parsha, we receive the final mitzvah, the final of the 613th of the mitzvot.
“And now, write for yourselves this song, and teach it to the Children of Israel” - “וְעַתָּ֗ה כִּתְב֤וּ לָכֶם֙ אֶת־הַשִּׁירָ֣ה הַזֹּ֔את וְלַמְּדָ֥הּ אֶת־בְּנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל”
What is the song you ask? The “song / shira” is the Torah. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, of blessed memory, taught that Moshe was teaching B’nei Yisrael that it isn’t enough to just take in the teachings of Moshe himself — they must make the Torah new and fresh themselves.
To this day, Torah scrolls are written as in ancient times, by hand, using parchment, and written with a quill. The Torah scroll is the closest thing we have in our modern Jewish practice to a sacred relic.
The word “shira” can mean song or poetry, and because it’s used 5 times in this passage, clearly is significant. The Netziv, Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin, interprets that we should read the Torah as if it is poetry, not prose. The Netziv argues that the Torah is like poetry because it’s allusive rather than explicit - leaving more unsaid than said. Secondly, it also hints at deeper meanings, expressing more than just is what is visible on the surface. Torah is imbued with deep secrets, like poetry, too.
Cont’d…
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A few weeks after I graduated college in 2019, I staffed a Hillel International Birthright trip. If you have had the immense privilege to be a participant on a Birthright trip, you know there are 2 very important Israeli cogs in the machine that is an individual Birthright trip - the Israeli bus driver and the Israeli tour guide.
Our tour guide, who we will call Ron, was your typical non-religious Israeli. Every time I would commandeer the bus microphone to give some Torah context for a location we were going or share some “fun” Jewish facts, he would roll his eyes good naturedly. By the end of our 10 days he had given me the title “Rabbanit.” (Which I give him credit for - whether he knew it or not, he was being pretty progressive. What we call young women in Jewish contexts — I.e. - Rabbanit vs Rebbetzin, is a whole conversation that I welcome. Write to me.)
Ron was very averse to the religious aspects of Judaism. (Alert - I’m going to make a grand over-simplification about Israeli culture!!) This wasn’t surprising — there is a very deep cultural divide between religious Israelis and non-religious Israelis.
Ron, like 50% of the Israeli population, served in the army and viewed such service as the citizens’ responsibility as an Israeli. Haredi Jews do not serve in the IDF (Israel Defense Forces), under religious exemption, and because 53% of Haredim live below the poverty line, they receive government funding. Haredim view themselves as the last protector of the Jewish nature of the state, and that on the merit of their full-time learning does the state of Israel stand.
I hope you believe that none of this info has been sharing my personal opinion — I am trying to simply give context. Basically — there is lots of tension between these two groups. Obviously there’s even more nuance within other religious groups… but we will leave it here.
I didn’t think much of Ron’s aversion to Judaism. It seemed typical to me. On the last day of our trip, though he shared something really beautiful. So after his army service, like many Israelis, Ron traveled. In India specifically, he was fascinated by Buddhism and the deep, ancient connection that those he met in India felt to their ancestors. He found himself wishing that he, too, had an ancient connection to an ancient people. Interestingly enough, Jews account for as many as a third of all non-Asian Buddhists in North America, so there’s definitely something there between Judaism and Buddhism. Ron wanted to be connected to ancient people until he realized… he was. Ron was a Jew! A Jew whose ancestors stood at Har Sinai (Mount Sinai) and heard Hashem speak the first 2 Aseret HaDibrot (Ten Commandments), he was a Jew that had actualized the hope of thousands of years to return to the Land of Israel to be a free people. Ron had spent his whole life living in the ancient Jewish homeland, but didn’t appreciate it till leaving the nest.
Ron saw us silly Americans as being more connected to our Judaism from 7,000 miles away than he was in Israel. To him, we were willing to schlep across the ocean to connect to our Judaism, and he wondered maybe he was too close to it.
In this week’s parsha, Nitzavim, our brit (covenant) with G-d is renewed, the covenant of promising to uphold G-d’s mitzvot. This covenant is not only with all of Bnei Yisrael that were present, but also with those of future generations. The next section of the parsha describes how future generations may stray from the Derech HaShem, the way of G-d in life. The Torah tells us that we are curious people, that we will be drawn by other aspects of other religions.
Soul scene
Cont’d…
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There’s a really long, really unique declaration in regard to the mitzvah of “bikkurim” that is made in this week’s parsha. Bikkurim refers to the mitzvah of bringing the first of your fruits to the Beit HaMikdash, the Temple in Jerusalem.
The Torah begins with the word, “Bereshit - בראשית” meaning “in the beginning.” According to the Midrash on this very first word, there are a few things in the Torah that are called “Reishit,” meaning the first of. In the beginning of this parsha, we get this word Reishit, “And you shall take of the first of the fruits of the earth… - וְלָֽקַחְתָּ֞ מֵֽרֵאשִׁ֣ית | כָּל־פְּרִ֣י הָֽאֲדָמָ֗ה”
The Midrash tells us that G-d created the whole world for the purpose of all of the “Reishit” moments, of which bikkurim is included in. Rashi, Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki explains that the essence of this mitzvah is demonstrating our gratitude to G-d. OK cool, how?
Up until entering the land of Israel, the Jewish people have been living a pretty miraculous life out there in the midbar, the desert. Their food is dropped in their laps, (the man / manna), they drink water that poured forth from a rock, they have this pillar of cloud that keeps them cool, their clothes never wear out… they’re living a supernatural life. It’s very easy to see that G-d is in every aspect of their day-to-day when in the desert. But when they cross the Yarden / Jordan and begin their normal, typical life, they start living a non-obviously G-d-granted life. They’re going to be making their own living - they’re plowing the land, and they’ll get their own yield. This is exactly the moment where one can forget about G-d’s involvement.
In comes bikkurim — in the very moment when the first bud develops in their crop, where we could begin to believe that our success is due to our own work and not to G-d. We quite literally “nip it in the bud” by gathering the Reishit, the beginning, of our crop to be taken the Temple.
Once you take the first fruits to Yerushalayim, you’re commanded to make this long declaration (as mentioned in the beginning) recapping the miracles that G-d has done for the Jewish people. In this declaration, we remember Yaakov / Jacob and his clash with Laban, his father in law. We remember being slaves in Mitzrayim / Egypt, and finally we we remember G-d’s deliverance of us to our Eretz Zavat Halav u’Dvash - a land flowing with milk and honey.
We recap of all the good that G-d has done for the Jewish people to remind us that we are not out here floating on a space rock. We are very much rooted in the presence and benevolence of G-d, even when we feel as though all of our success is due to our own hand.
The word for heresy is the same word as ignoring / choosing not to acknowledge - כְּפִירָה / Kfira. The word for gratitude, though, is the same as active acknowledgment - הוֹדָאָה / Hoda’ah.
Being willing to acknowledge the presence of G-d is what true gratitude is. Thanking G-d is attesting, acknowledging G-d’s dominion on this earth.
This is why, then you compliment religious Jews, their response is often “Thank G-d.” This is an every-day kind of Hoda’ah - recognizing that every positive (and negative) trait was specifically chosen by G-d for you.
Cont’d…
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Ki Teitzei, this week’s parsha, has the most number of mitzvot mentioned in all of the 54 parsha installments. These mitzvot are pretty miscellaneous — paying wages on time, family inheritence, treatment of domestic animals, weights and measures, and lots of others.
One mitzvah that continually perplexes us is one dealing with baby birds, mama birds, and their nests - the mitzvah of שילוח הקן / Shiluach HaKen, or sending away the nest.
It’s special for a few reasons - firstly, it’s one of only 2 mitzvot in the Torah where a reward is specifically mentioned (the other is Kibud Av v’Em, honoring one’s mother and father).
We are instructed that if we come upon a mother bird upon her nest of either eggs or young, we are to shoo the mother bird away before taking the eggs or the young. If we take the eggs / young after shooing the mother away, it will be “good for us” and we will have a long life - לְמַ֨עַן֙ יִ֣יטַב לָ֔ךְ וְהַֽאֲרַכְתָּ֖ יָמִֽים.
What’s the first thing that comes to mind for this? I think the natural train of thought is, “Oh, G-d loves all creatures. It’s kind of mean to take a mother’s babies when she’s there, so the mitzvah is to NOT let her see them being taken.”
But then why is eating meat ok?? If it’s “mean to animals” to kill them, we shouldn’t eat them!!
Ok so the Ramban, Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, explains that having compassion for animals simply inculcates compassion for humanity. People should accustom themselves to act mercifully and kindly to all. And if we’re kind and empathetic to even baby birds, then even more so would we be kind to our fellow humans. Lovely idea!
Also you can see the obvious parallel between Kibud Av v’Em and Shiluach Haken, because we have the respect of a parent at the center. Shiluach Haken is interesting though because the mitzvah only counts if it’s the MOTHER bird, not the father bird, while Kibud Av v’Em is both the mother and the father. Let me know your thoughts on this distinction!
Ok so let’s talk more broadly about mitzvot!
As we learn from a few sources, there are 613 mitzvot. According to the Midrash, there are 248 positive mitzvot (Mitzvot Aseh, a mitzvot you SHOULD do), and 365 negative mitzvot (Mitzvot Lo Taaesh, mitzvot you should NOT do).
We learn that 248 corresponds to the number of bones / limbs in the human body. Every part of the body is directly related to one of those mitzvot. (EX: you should OPEN your hand to give charity - תִּפְתַּ֛ח אֶת־יָֽדְךָ֖). Every part of our physical body, then, is elevated by the mitzvot corresponding. The 248 mitzvot become our spiritual “body” double.
Ok so what about the 365?
The Or HaChaim cites the Arizal - our soul is split into many sparks of life. Each spark represents a day we have been granted by G-d. Each day we have an opportunity to do a mitzvah. If we complete a mitzvah, the spark is actualized. If we do not do a mitzvah, that spark becomes blemished.
The Or HaChaim says this helps us to understand sleep - we need sleep to be the “changing of the guard.” Replacing yesterday’s spark with tomorrow’s. And when sleep is described as 1/60th of death, this makes sense! One bit of our soul IS departing - one spark-let is leaving but if G-d wants us to live another day, we get a new one for the next day.
So every day is an opportunity to connect with the Divine every day of the year - 365 times per year. Because the 365 negative mitzvot correspond to each day of our lives.
Every day is an opportunity to connect to the Divine and every limb is, too.
Cont’d…
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There is a famous pasuk (line) in this parsha - one that every Millenial / Gen Z, socially conscious person you know has written on their water bottles, computers, coffee cups, etc — צֶ֥דֶק צֶ֖דֶק תִּרְדֹּ֑ף, Justice, justice, you shall pursue.
In context and out of context, it’s such a powerful line. The command “tirdof” meaning “you shall pursue” from the verb לִרְדוֹף, implies chasing, hunting, going after with energy. It’s not “casually saunter after justice” or “go get some justice if you feel like it.” There’s no qualifier or anything, it’s just “Go after it.”
This is the point in my dvar-writing that I absolutely went down a rabbit hole in the internet. I didn’t know this, but in modern Hebrew, the planet Jupiter is called Tzedek??? What even!?!? If you went through a super enthusiastic Greek / Roman mythology phase like I did in junior high, you will know that Jupiter was the Roman equivalent / parallel to Zeus in Greek mythology. Jupiter is the biggest planet and Zeus / Jupiter are considered the “head gods” so that makes sense that the planet is named for them. But what’s the connection with tzedek? I should really do some more substantial research on this, but Zeus’s thing was being the god of Order and Justice, ahem: tzedek, righteousness. So this choice of calling the planet Jupiter, “Tzedek” after the Green / Roman god its named after, is just modern Hebrew paralleling Greek and Roman culture.
This parsha is full of commands against worshipping idols or other false gods, so it’s a tad funny that a word so central to the parsha is relatively related to these aforementioned “other gods.”
And once I was down the rabbit hole of roots of Hebrew words or associations with certain Hebrew words, I couldn’t stop. Thanks to an essay I found online by Rabbi Jacob Chinitz, I have learned that there are literally 10 different words the Torah uses in referring to “law” - din, tzedek, dvar, mishmeret, mitzvah, torah (lowercase, not the Torah), mishpat, chok, edut, and ot. And they can mean anything like commandment, judgment, observance, righteousness, rule, sign, statute, teaching, testimony, or word.
These are not simply interchangeable synonyms, but they overlap so much in meaning!
But I’m digressing - we’re focusing on tzedek. And tzedek is really hard to truly define. At its root, tzedek is the act of doing what is right, it doesn’t really refer to punishments (like “din”) or corrective actions (like “mishpat”). It encompasses the way we treat one another, the way we defend those who cannot defend themselves, the way we help those in need.
Tzedek is the root of the word “tzedakah” which is often not-totally-accurately translated as “charity.” Charity comes from the Latin root “caritas” referring to the “Christian love of your fellow human beings.” Tzedakah is not giving because you feel like it, or giving because it makes you feel warm inside. Tzedakah is the duty, the moral obligation to give and to care for our fellow people.
This brings to mind another part of the parsha - a bit later, we read about the procedure if a dead body is found and the cause is unknown. The elders and judges of the area should measure to which city the body was found closest to. That city that is closest to where the body was found is to send their elders to proclaim that they had nothing to do with this death, and then they sacrifice an “unworked calf” in a “rough, unworked valley.”
Cont’d…
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We learn in the Talmud (Rosh Hashanah 26A) that a person who has seen a crime committed cannot serve as a judge in the case. Why? When someone has seen a person commit a capital crime, they cannot possibly exonerate them. Judges are supposed to look for innocence, and if a person has seen another commit a crime with their own eyes, having impartiality isn’t possible.
Our sages recognize that sight is a very powerful sense, and we start this week’s parsha with it.
Behold, today I set before you a blessing and a curse - רְאֵ֗ה אָֽנֹכִ֛י נֹתֵ֥ן לִפְנֵיכֶ֖ם הַיּ֑וֹם בְּרָכָ֖ה וּקְלָלָֽה
The first word in this parsha, and the name of the parsha, Re’eh, means to see, coming from Lirot / לראות. But here, Re’eh is translated most commonly as “behold.”
Why does “sight” imply understanding? When someone explains a concept to us, if we say “Ah, I see” we understand. We can also communicate our understanding with another sense, “Ah, I hear you.”
Judaism is a religion that primarily relates to sound. Our Avot, Avraham (Abraham), Yitzchak (Isaac), and Yaakov (Jacob) heard the voice of G-d and didn’t see it, Moshe heard G-d at the burning bush but didn’t see G-d, B’nei Yisrael heard the voice of G-d at Har Sinai, Mount Sinai. Even at Sinai B’nei Yisrael awoke to the SOUNDS of thunder, lightning, and a great horn blast. (Yes they saw a great cloud / the mountain ablaze, but the most important thing here is the sound — the sound of the voice of G-d delivering the first 2 of the Aseret HaDibrot, the Ten Commandments. G-d is not an entity that can be comprehended, let alone seen. And though our ancestors did see symbols / representations of G-d, the most affecting situations are found with sound.
Judaism is rare in that our “revelation” that “proves” G-d is real, happened for all the nation to hear. We all heard G-d’s voice at Har Sinai, we all had the privilege of experiencing the sound for ourselves. Much like “seeing” someone commit a crime makes you unable to say they are innocent, “hearing” the existence of G-d and the existence of our covenant with him makes us unable to deny G-d’s existence.
Throughout the book of Devarim, Deuteronomy, the verb Lishmoa / לשמוע can be found in some form 92 times. But weren’t we just talking about sight? Re’eh right?
Yes! Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, of blessed memory, pointed out that though the command is “See / behold before you,” the words that follow it only speak of hearing.
I will now roughly paraphrase -
See, I set before you today a blessing and a curse. You will get the blessing if you LISTEN - תִּשְׁמְע֗וּ- and heed my laws, you will get the curse if you DON’T LISTEN - אִם־לֹ֤א תִשְׁמְעוּ֙.
So, SEE these 2 options that will happen if you don’t LISTEN!
The Shema, found in 3 places in the Torah and that has now become a centerpiece in Jewish belief, also focuses on sound. Shema - of course coming from Lishmoa, to hear, proclaims the basic Jewish principle - monotheism.
שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל ה' אֱלֹקינוּ ה' אֶחָֽד - Hear O Israel, the Lord our G-d, the Lord is One.
It’s not REEH oh Israel, or SEE O Israel, it’s HEAR O Israel.
Cont’d…
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In this week’s parsha, we continue with Moshe Rabbenu’s recounting of the events of the past 40 years in the midbar, the desert 🏜🌵🐪. We begin this parsha with a conditional statement - where Moshe tells B’nei Yisrael that if they observe the mitzvot they have received from G-d, then G-d will keep the covenant, the Brit, he made with our ancestors. The parsha opens with, “And it will be, because you will heed these ordinances and keep them and perform them, - וְהָיָ֣ה | עֵ֣קֶב תִּשְׁמְע֗וּן אֵ֤ת הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים֙ הָאֵ֔לֶּה וּשְׁמַרְתֶּ֥ם וַֽעֲשִׂיתֶ֖ם אֹתָ֑ם - that the Lord, your God, will keep for you the covenant and the kindness that He swore to your forefathers -
וְשָׁמַר֩ יְהֹוָ֨ה אֱלֹהֶ֜יךָ לְךָ֗ אֶת־הַבְּרִית֙ וְאֶת־הַחֶ֔סֶד אֲשֶׁ֥ר נִשְׁבַּ֖ע לַֽאֲבֹתֶֽיךָ
The word used for “it will be” or “so it shall follow” is the word עֵ֣קֶב / Ekev, the name of the parsha. Eikev literally means “heel,” and here it can mean “on the heels of [following the mitzvot].” We can also interpret the usage of eikev to refer “walking” in the way of our ancestors, or the way that G-d would like us to conduct ourselves. Rashi, Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki also comments that the usage of Eikev refers to the fact that we should heed ALL commandments, even HaMitzvot HaKallot / המצות הקלות or “light / simple mitzvot”, that one might “trample with their heel” and not view as important.
Mitzvah Kallah is a common way to refer to a minor / light / not-so-weighty mitzvah. We also learn, though, that we cannot know the exact importance of certain mitzvot on this earth. Shouldn’t we know which mitzvot to prioritize? I guess not. If we pursue all mitzvot equally, perhaps that’s a way to walk in the way of G-d. If we are constantly pursuing righteous things, even things that we, in human error, deem to be less important, we will live a righteous life.
I guess when we think of important / heavy commandments, we think of “do not kill” or “do not steal” or “do not worship idols.” But something like “do not embarrass others” or “do not slander others” or “do not lie” falls to the side.
We’re judgmental people (or at least I am…for now!) And as much as we think we weigh the “big” mitzvot more than we weigh the “little” ones when we judge, we also make judgments based on the little things (again, or at least I do….for now!) The “little” things could be the way someone speaks to an Uber driver, whether or not they pick up a piece of trash they’ve dropped, or my big one: if they make others feel valued and included in a conversation. This isn’t a hot take — everyone says that the way someone treats a person that owes them nothing is very telling.
So, if we perform easy mitzvot with the same energy we perform harder mitzvot, that’s a well-rounded life.
Cont’d…
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How do you ask a friend, a loved one, an acquaintance, a coworker for something? Do you remind them of the deeds you’ve done for them? Do you remind them how much they love you? Do you simply ask?
According to Rashi, Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, the way to do it is to simply ask. Those who are righteous do not expect their rewards in this world, Olam HaZe. They know their rewards await them in the world to come - Olam HaBaa.
And this sort of straight-up ask is what Moshe Rabbenu, Moses our Teacher, does in this week’s parsha - VaEtchanan. As we have read before, Moshe was prohibited from entering the Land of Israel with B’nei Yisrael, but that didn’t stop him from pleading, praying to G-d to be let in. Not even to live there or lead the people! He was just asking G-d to be able to enter the land, walk it, and observe the mitzvot that can only be observed there.
According to the Midrash, Moshe implored G-d 515 times to enter (because the Gematria / numerical value of the word Vaetchanan - וָֽאֶתְחַנַּ֖ן, meaning “I implored” is 515 - 515 is also the numerical value of my name, Shira - which means “singing” as well as the word Tefillah / תפלה which means “prayer”. Lots of symbolism there.) G-d commands Moshe to stop praying — implying that if Moshe would have sent out his 516th prayer, he would have been allowed into the Land.
Perhaps Moshe knew that this 516th prayer would have been the ticket — especially after being explicitly told NOT to continue. And yet he listens. If you wanted something and knew you were thiiiiiis close to pushing the outcome over the edge, wouldn’t you be tempted to keep wheedling? I know I would.
Here we learn that prayer does not fall on deaf ears. Our prayers are always answered, but sometimes the answer is “no.” And sometimes we understand immediately why that was the case, other times it takes years, and most likely, we will never know. But prayer isn’t just for G-d to see how righteous we are. Prayer is also a reflective experience - as well as a reflexive one, too. This is a common concept to reference, but the Hebrew verb להתפלל - LeHitpalel (to pray) is reflexive, meaning you do the praying to yourself. How can that be? Aren’t we asking G-d for something? Yes, but we also pray for the sake of ourselves.
When we articulate our desires, we are able to visualize what we want.
But how do we deal with the denial? Emunah, faith. Or recognition that we are simple human beans (yes, beans) that cannot comprehend the ways of the world. That isn’t a very comforting thought, but it can be if we have proper context. I am always working on this, but off the top of my head right this moment, I can think of 5 instances where I davened (prayed) and cried over some experience / job / person only to see that the outcome I desired was 100% the incorrect one. I try to remind myself of these truths when I’m frustrated with what I am perceiving as a “no.”
So back to this word Vaetchanan - וָֽאֶתְחַנַּ֖ן, meaning to beg or plead — it’s rooted in the Hebrew word Chinun - חִנּוּן, which, according to Rashi, implies requesting a free gift. This reminds me of something I once heard about the concept of love. If you asked someone you love why they love you, it would be nice to hear a few reasons. “Your incomparable wit… your incredible emotional intelligence… your beautiful eyes! Etc.” But what if these reasons were to go away? Would the love go away, too?
Cont’d…
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Sometimes (even though our Torah is a delightfully 70-faceted text, and our commentators are also delightfully diverse) I am running low on parsha email content. In these desperate moments, I have a very specific procedure.
Step 1: Open the Apple podcasts app.
Step 2: Wait to be inspired.
I cannot explain it other than Divine will, but every time I do this, I end up listening to exactly the right podcast to get me on the right track for writing.
That happened this week. I stumbled upon a podcast that featured social-science researcher Julia Galef speaking about the two frames with which we interpret information: scout mindset vs soldier mindset.
Galef describes the solider mindset as approaching situations with the sole intent of defending one’s own beliefs, shooting down any other conflicting information and seeing alternative approaches as the “enemy.” The soldier mindset tends to be based on emotions like defensiveness and tribalism.
The scout mindset, alternately, is driven by the desire to find the truth — to see what is real, no matter who or where it comes from. The scout mindset is based in curiosity, with a love of learning and solving puzzles. Scouts are grounded in their self worth, not basing it on how right or wrong they are about any particular topic.
If you can pick it up from the descriptors, we should all strive to be scouts. As Galef says in her own words, “[The Scout Mindset is] my term for the motivation to see things as they are and not as you wish they were, being or trying to be intellectually honest, objective, or fair minded, and curious about what’s actually true.”
That scout person is someone I’d like to be around!
Now why in the world am I bringing up soldiers and scouts? Great question — in this week’s parsha, we begin the book of Devarim, of Deuteronomy. Devarim takes place over the final 5 weeks of Moshe Rabbenu’s life. He’s recapping the events of the Torah from Avraham onward, with an important emphasis of a particularly eventful event that happened pretty recently in our narrative (but 38 years ago in the Torah timeline) — in parshat Shelach where we have the event of Chet HaMeraglim, the Sin of the Spies.
As a recap, as B’nei Yisrael approaches the land of Israel, some leaders become nervous about this new home of theirs. They ask Moshe if they can send some spies in to scout out the land and confirm that it’s an ארץ טובה - an Eretz Tova, a Good Land. In the first telling of the story, Moshe and G-d allow the spies to go into the land, but send them with specific instructions. One instruction sums up the rest - Moshe asks them to confirm if it’s a good or a bad land - using the words טוב and רע / Tov and Ra (Good vs Bad).
This word, “tov” for “good” is very powerful. To truly understand a biblical word, we can explore its other usages.
Get Julia Galef’s new book The Scout Mindset: Why Some People See Things Clearly and Others Don't here.
Cont’d…
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We are entering the final 2 parshiyot of Bamidbar (Numbers) with our double portion of Mattot-Masei!!! Crazy!!!
If you’ve been paying attention, the word we commonly use to refer to the 12 tribes of Israel is “shevet” (plural shvatim). Like Shevet Levi, Shevet Menashe, etc. But in the first of this week’s 2 parshiyot, the word used to refer to the tribes is “mateh” (plural Mattot - the name of the parsha). The parsha begins with Moshe speaking to the heads of the tribes (Rashei HaMattot) about the laws of making oaths or vows - nedarim.
Let’s look a bit deeper into the significance of these two words. Shevet or שֵׁבֶט can refer to tribe, yes, but can also also mean “branch,” as in the branch of a tree. Mateh, or מַטֶּה, can refer to tribe, yes, but it also can mean “stick,” or what an offshoot of a tree becomes when it dries out.
What’s the difference between a green offshoot (shevet) and a brown stick (mateh)? Well they’re both from the same source.
There is a nice idea that every soul that has ever and will ever exist was present at the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai. That everyone who exists now is lit within by one of the 600,000 souls that heard G-d at Matan Torah. This inner spark is what we call the “Pintele Yid” or the essential point of Judaism. (When I first heard this, the image that came to mind a tiny Jew that, for some reason, looked like the Lucky Charms leprechaun, living within all of us). Ok so we all have this inner spark, lit by the source fire - G-d.
So a mateh and a shevet originated with the One Tree, but a shevet (branch) retains its vitality and flexibiliy while a mateh (stick) becomes dried out and brittle. Though a branch can be swayed by the wind, a stick stands strong through its trials.
The branch (shevet) still retains some of the lifeblood of the tree within it, and therefore represents a person who retains connection with G-d and recognizes G-d’s involvement in their lives. The stick (mateh), though, has been uprooted. The stick represents all of us in the diaspora, gallus / gallut — removed from G-d to an extent.
Both the branch and the stick have their points of strength, and both represent two different kinds of religious lives. A malleable branch will do just fine if in temperate weather, just as even the most tenuously connected Jew feels connection to G-d when in a place like Israel. And a stick, though in a Jewish desert such as [insert your city here] has learned to withstand the influences of those around us out of a sink-or-swim reality.
It’s no coincidence that we usually read Mattot during the saddest time of year for Jews - the Three Weeks (Bein HaMetzarim, between the straits). This is a period bookended by two fast days where we mourn the destruction of the First and Second Temples. Our exile from Israel began with the destruction of the Temples, so we associate gallut / the diaspora with this time. We enter the most intense mourning this coming week with the beginning of the Hebrew month of Av this coming Saturday - the Nine Days.
Cont’d…
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LINKS
Andy's sad as heck line
Final scene of the Office
Shira's Senior Spring Montage Memory Video
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In last week’s parsha we read of Bilaam, the non-Jewish sorcerer’s, attempt to curse the Jewish people. If you remember, he wasn’t successful initially.
Bilaam fails and is only able to bless B’nei Yisrael and then suddenly his 15 minutes of narrative are done… or are they??
According to the Talmud (Sanhedrin 106a), Bilaam then goes to the king of Moav, Balak, and conspires to truly take down the Jewish people. Bilaam counsels Balak to entice Jewish men to commit some sexual immorality with the women of Moav and Midian. Immediately after the saga of Bilaam and his 3 blessings, we read that B’nei Yisrael settles in a city called Shittim, east of the Jordan river in Moav. They become engaged in what the Torah calls Liznot / לִזנוֹת or “straying” with the women of Midian and Moav, who have been encouraged by Bilaam and Balak to help with the downfall of B’nei Yisrael.
According to the Midrash, the Midianite and Moabite women also entice the Jewish men to commit avodah zara (idolatry) as well as gilui arayot (sexual impropriety) and things go a bit crazy. So crazy in fact, that one pair of consorting cavorters actually conduct some of their …. acts… in front of the Ohel Moed, the Tent of Meeting, and the leaders of B’nei Yisrael. Moshe and the other leaders freeze. They know the right thing to do (i.e. - stop them), but in the heat of the crazy moment, it eludes them.
In one of the more violent and descriptive events of our Torah, Pinchas (Phineas), grandson of Aharon, is the sole actor and impales the pair (Zimri of the tribe of Shimon and Kozbi, a Midiniate woman) when he sees them.
And then the parsha ends, kind of suddenly. At the beginning of this week’s parsha, Pinchas, Hashem bestows our previously aforementioned zealot a Brit Shalom, a covenant of peace, for his righteous acts.
Hmm… a covenant of peace for impaling two people? Interesting… And then, G-d also welcomes Pinchas into the priesthood, the kahuna.
“But Shira! Wasn’t Pinchas a descendant of Aharon??? And aren’t all descendants of Aharon kohanim (priests)???”
“Yes! You have been listening!”
Pinchas WAS a Levi (from the tribe of Levi) but he wasn’t a kohen. The legacy of priesthood was only given to Aharon’s sons and the sons that THOSE sons begot after being ordained. Pinchas was already born! So he wasn’t included in the descendants until now!
One question — why does someone who’s most famous act is impaling 2 people get a covenant of peace?? Well, there are different interpretations of what “shalom” - peace, really mean. Shalom is related to the Hebrew word “shalem” meaning whole or complete. To straight up quote from Wikipedia, “The meaning of completeness, central to the term shalom, can also be confirmed in related terms found in other Semitic languages. The Assyrian term salamu means to be complete, unharmed, paid/atoned. Sulmu, another Assyrian term, means welfare. A closer relation to the idea of shalom as concept and action is seen in the Arabic root salaam, meaning to be safe, secure and forgiven, among other things.”
Cont’d…
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To recap the end of last week’s parsha, Chukat —as B’nei Yisrael makes their way toward actually entering the Land of Israel, they have to pass through some “enemy” territory. They come across the land of the Amorites, east of the Jordan river. (So in modern-day Jordan). B’nei Yisrael sends emissaries to speak to the Amorite kings, asking for permission to simply pass through their lands, not even stopping to drink water from their wells or take produce from their fields. The Amorim refused, and so B’nei Yisrael battles the Amorim and succeed, settling their cities.
The nearby country of Moab / Moav hear of this conquest and become nervous. Balak, the king of Moav, enlists a non-Jewish sorcerer / prophet named Bilaam for help. The king wants Bilaam, a powerful prophet, to curse B’nei Yisrael so they don’t overtake Moav.
Dignitaries of the king of Moav go to Bilaam and convey the message. G-d communicated with Bilaam through dreams, so Bilaam says, “Let me sleep on it and I’ll circle back.” G-d comes to him in the dream and says, “No! Don’t curse B’nei Yisrael”
So Bilaam tells the dignitaries he cannot do it. So even more important dignitaries come, and Bilaam again sleeps on it. G-d answers in a puzzling way this time. G-d says something like, “Look, if people came to get you, go with them. But you’re only going to be able to say what I will allow you to say.”
So Bilaam arises the next morning and starts toward B’nei Yisrael on his donkey. G-d is still angry that Bilaam insists on going, so G-d sends an angel to stop him.
Like Dr. Sam Beckett’s true identity in Quantum Leap, the Malach Hashem, the angel of G-d, can only be seen by animals (and I guess kids too?), so Bilaam is blissfully unaware. The donkey sees the angel, who is there to kill / stop Bilaam, so she (yes it’s a she-donkey) turns away from the road. Bilaam has no idea what’s going on, so he’s enraged and strikes the donkey. The donkey keeps on. But the angel is still in the way! So the donkey runs into a fence. Bilaam, again strikes it. The donkey continues. And again, tries to save Bilaam because the angel is now blocking a narrow path so that they cannot get by. Bilaam is striking his relentlessly when G-d suddenly opens the mouth of the donkey who says something like, “Why are you such a jerk!!! Have I not been a loyal mode of transportation for you??”
Then G-d opens Bilaam’s eyes so that he could see what was actually impeding his way. The angel backs up the donkey saying, “I was in the way and would have killed you if the donkey wouldn’t have turned away these three times!!!”
Bilaam is chastened (maybe? the commentary says he just said what he needed to to get the angel off his back, but who knows) and the story continues.
Bilaam goes to B’nei Yisrael, but as G-d promised, Bilaam is only able to speak blessings upon the people. So, he blesses them 3 times and goes on his way.
That’s how the story is resolved, but the part that sticks out to me every time we get to this parsha is the genuine cluelessness of Bilaam when he’s being kept from his own death.
How many times have you missed a flight, a bus, lost a job opportunity, been turned down for a date, been left out of a social outing, or any number of other disappointing things? All the time!!! These kinds of let downs happen ALL. THE. TIME. And maybe it means nothing and the world is just an amalgam of random occurrences… OR these were all merciful redirections.
Cont’d…
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Between the events of last week’s parsha and this middle section of this week’s parsha, about 38 years have passed. As we learning in Parshat Shelach a few weeks ago, the population of B’nei Yisrael that left Mitzrayim (Egypt) did not merit to enter the Land of Israel. That group sent the Meraglim (spies) into Eretz Yisrael and then believed them when their reports were less than favorable.
So we know we wandered in the desert for 40 years, and about a year had passed since they were freed from Egypt at the time of Chet HaMeraglim (Sin of the Spies), so if a year had passed (before we were told we’d wander for 40 years total), and then 38 more passed, we’re at about 39 years out of 40 years. Meaning … one more year to go! And we still have the rest of Bamidbar (Numbers) and Devarim (Deuteronomy) to get through!! The Torah is Divine, but we never said it was an evenly distributed chronological document!
We begin the parsha with the details of the Para Aduma, the Red Heifer. The Para Aduma is always referred to as the classic example of a “chok” or a non-intuitive law. I have brought this distinction up before, but we can never do enough hazara (review)! So there are choks/chukim and then there are mishpats/mishpatim. The Talmud distinguishes that mishpatim are intuitive in the way that, had the Torah never been codified, we would have gathered logically. Laws against stealing, murder, and other non-ambiguous actions. Chukim, however, aren’t so naturally intuited. Sometimes we mistranslate a chok as a law that has no explanation, but this isn’t true either. A chok has an explanation, but it isn’t one we can understand or know. Or as the Rambam, Maimonides, Rabbi Moshe Ben Maimon explains — the rationale of chukim are hidden from us while the rationale of mishpatim is more obvious.
So, the Para Aduma is always used as a prime example because it’s very specific and has to do with ritual impurity. The laws of Para Aduma are given, and then 38 years pass in the span of a single space button.
38 years after Chet HaMeraglim, the Sin of the Spies, B’nei Yisrael has settled in the area called Kadesh. And as we read, “There, Miriam dies and is buried there” - וַתָּ֤מָת שָׁם֙ מִרְיָ֔ם וַתִּקָּבֵ֖ר שָֽׁם
The very next line is, “And there was no water for the people” - וְלֹא־הָ֥יָה מַ֖יִם לָֽעֵדָ֑ה
The Talmud teaches that this quick pairing of Miriam’s death and then the loss of water means that it was in Miriam’s merit that B’nei Yisrael had water at all. I tend to associate Miriam with water — she watches over Moshe when he’s placed in the Nile, she leads B’nei Yisrael in song after Kriyat Yam Suf (the Splitting of the Sea), and then the well, too.
So right after Miriam dies, the well disappears. The people come to Moshe and Aharon upset, scared at the prospect of dying of thirst. B’nei Yisrael does come to Moshe and Aharon with complaints often — when they were thirsty right after leaving Mitzrayim, when the mahn (manna) was bland earlier in this sefer of Bamidbar, and now again without their water now that Miriam has passed away.
How is it possible that our lives parallel the parshiyot? For the past few weeks we haven’t had water in my apartment because of an issue with our fridge. This is a TINY issue, a TINY one and thank G-d we have a fridge!! Thank G-d I have time to think about whether or not I have enough water!!!! You get my point. Just want to cover my bases.
I am MISERABLE if I don’t drink enough water. #HydrateOrDie-drate
Whatever, I just really can relate to the desperation and frustration that B’nei Yisrael feels when Miriam passes away and the well disappears.
Cont’d…
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This week’s parsha is Korach, named for the antagonist of our narrative of the moment. Who is Korach? Korach is Moshe, Aharon, and Miriam’s cousin.
In short, Korach feels he was looked over for a spiritual promotion of kinds - the promotion of being chosen as the head of one of the Levi families. And so he incites a rebellion and (spoiler alert) is swallowed up by the Earth. A rather dramatic ending!
Maybe this next part will be annoying, but I feel like it’s always good to have context for who these people are to each other. So let’s do some (greatly abbreviated) genealogy.
Avraham > Yitzchak (Isaac) > Yaakov (Jacob) > Levi > Kehat > Amram and Itzhar
Amram is the father of Moshe / Aharon / Miriam, and Korach is the son of Itzhar.
Do you remember a few weeks ago we talked about the different families within the tribe of Levi? There was B’nei Gershoni, B’nei Kehati, and B’nei Merari, who each had different responsibilities. These families were named for their patriarchs - Gershon, Kehat, and Merari. If you glance back at my little list of our genealogy, Kehat was Moshe and Korach’s grandfather.
As kids of Amram, Moshe, Aharon, and Miriam were the children of the oldest son of Kehat.
As the kid of Itzhar, Korach is the oldest son of the second-eldest son of Kehat.
So what exactly had Korach been overlooked for? Moshe, Aharon, and Miriam were special - they were the Kohen Gadol (High Priest, Aharon), the general leader (Moshe), a righteous prophetess (Miriam).
Moshe / Aharon / Miriam and Korach have a younger cousin, Elitzaphan. Elitzaphan was given the leadership of Bnei Kehat.
Korach wanted that position, and if we’re going by hierarchy of genealogy, Korach was the next in line, not Elitzaphan. So, he’s (rightfully) mad.
But you only would know that Korach is mad about the specific appointment of Elitzaphan if you read the Midrash and other commentary on this parsha. If you just read the text, it seems like Korach is generally mad at Moshe and Aharon in general. Korach and his fellow mutineers say that Moshe and Aharon have given themselves too much power. They say, why do you guys get to be the ones in charge when we’re ALL special and ALL are holy? For the entire congregation is holy - כִּ֤י כָל־הָֽעֵדָה֙ כֻּלָּ֣ם קְדשִׁ֔ים
Based on this previous statement, you’d think Korach just has a grievance with there being any kind of leadership, believing we should be a nation that is 100% democratic. Except that ISN’T his real grievance. His anger is personal, and yet he corrals 250 accomplished men to accompany his complaint.
He manipulates 250 men of good repute into rebelling against their righteous leaders, all for the sake of his wounded pride. The scariest people are those who can make you feel emotions without you realizing they’re the ones putting those thoughts in your head.
If we believe the Torah was written in chronological order, last week’s parsha was a low moment. When the Meraglim (spies) came back and scared all of B’nei Yisrael into being afraid of entering Eretz Yisrael, the people lost a bit of their faith in the leadership of Moshe and Aharon. Korach saw that there was a vulnerable moment and he took advantage of it. So he’s a manipulating user with serious pride.
Not to mention — not only was Korach already a special member of B’nei Yisrael, as someone of Shevet Levi (the Tribe of Levi), he was also a member of B’nei Kehati — the most elite, spiritually heightened group within the already special group of the Tribe of Levi! And he’s mentioned as being smart, cunning, and wealthy! This guy has everything in the world, and yet he still isn’t satisfied.
Cont’d…
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Lashon haRa, literally meaning “the evil tongue,” refers to gossip. But the literal translation does get to the root of it… speech full stop holds immense power. And this extends to words we write as well (or include in Instagram infographics). Do yo know where I’m going with this? During the most recent conflict in Israel, while our brothers and sisters in the east were hiding in their bomb shelters, we were sitting in America arguing with acquaintances in the Facebook comment section. Social media became a *figurative* battle ground. Celebrities with millions of followers were sharing genuine lies — calling Israel an apartheid state, a colonizer, and an ethnic cleanser… even so if you now scroll Twitter, there are thousands of people with anti-Israel Twitter display names and even more anti-Israel Tweets.
The most harmful lies are ones that contain some semblance of truth, or at least wears the costume of truth. More on that later.
We learn a bit about that kind of evil speech in this week’s parsha, Shelach. This comes right after an event that happened in las week’s parsha, Behaalotecha, where Miriam is afflicted with the spiritual malady, tzaraat, which appears when one commits a certain transgression, including (you guessed it) - Lashon HaRa.
Miriam’s punishment (which we’ll get to) seems harsh (and I still feel like it is), but the Midrash gives us some context. Miriam noticed that Tzipporah, Moshe’s (Moses) wife, wasn’t living with him. In order to speak with G-d, one had to be ritually pure. Because Moshe was always “on call” to speak with G-d, he had to remain spiritually pure always, meaning he kinda neglected his wife. Miriam expresses sympathy for Tzipporah and goes to Aharon (Aaron) to discuss the matter. She also thinks it’s not good precedent to set, that the leader of the Jewish people doesn’t spend quality time with his wife. Miriam and Aharon are also prophets, and yet they live with their spouses! So Miriam brings this issue to Aharon, seemingly with very pure intentions. It’s not like she goes out and announces this concern to all the people… alas Hashem becomes very angry, viewing this speech as speech against Moshe. Yes Miriam and Aharon are prophets like Moshe, but they are not to the high level of prophecy that Moshe is, who is constantly speaking to G-d and must be constantly pure.
So Miriam is struck with tzaraat and then has to quarantine outside the camp for 7 days. Seems harsh for such a great tzadekus like Miriam… Miriam who is said to have told her parents to have another child because she prophesized that Moshe would be the one to redeem the Jewish people, Miriam who ensured that Moshe could lead the people by making sure he found a home after being placed in the Nile, Miriam on whose great faith and merit we had water in the desert… you get the point. But I read an interpretation that her rebuke was harsh because of how great she, in fact, was. I don’t know… I think she meant well, but I suppose the message is that offhand speech, even when it seems innocent can be dangerous. Or perhaps making any judgement about a life that is not our own is something that shouldn’t happen? I am going to continue thinking about this.
Cont’d…
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This week’s parsha has quite a few interesting storylines.
The parsha opens with the commandment of Aharon (Aaron), as Kohen Gadol (High Priest) to light the Menorah in the Mishkan (Temple) every day. The parsha’s name is taken from the command - Behaalotecha means “When you light” or literally, “when you cause to ascend.” Upward movement is very symbolic in Judaism. For example, no matter where geographically you’re coming from, when you go to Israel you are making aliyah, or ascending. And no matter where you go geographically when you leave Israel, you are making yeridah, or descending.
Rashi, Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, clarifies that “causing light to ascend” means you kindle the light until the flame is able to remain alight by itself.
Obviously this command does refer to the literal lighting of the Menorah, but the symbolic idea of raising someone or something up until capable to hold themself / itself up is really nice! It also definitely tracks with what we know about Aharon HaKohen, Aaron the Priest. In Pirkey Avot, we learn a famous quote — that a person should be like the followers or students of Aharon, “…loving peace, pursuing peace. Loving all mankind and bringing them closer to Torah” - “…אוֹהֵב שָׁלוֹם וְרוֹדֵף שָׁלוֹם, אוֹהֵב אֶת הַבְּרִיּוֹת וּמְקָרְבָן לַתּוֹרָה”
The Torah is often likened to the source fire that lights the sparks within us all, so we can connect Aharon’s lighting of the Menorah to his interactions with all of mankind. We should all hope to encourage or brighten anyone we interact with, but also keep in mind to give them the tools to keep themselves encouraged once they’re on their own.
In this quote from Pirkey Avot, Aharon is described as loving mankind, and *then* bringing them closer to Torah. Maybe you have to love someone to want to share Torah with them? Or maybe unconditional love must precede any sort of agenda (no matter the purity of that agenda)? And the first part of that sentence, about Aharon loving and pursuing peace — you don’t desire and pursue peace in a vacuum. What would push a person to pursue peace and spread Torah? Loving peace, and loving mankind.
It’s also interesting to note that Aharon brings the people close to the Torah, not the Torah to the people. The Lubavitcher Rebbe, Menachem Mendel Schneerson taught that just because you can’t teach the entire Torah overnight, it doesn’t mean you should water down concepts.
When we still had the Beit HaMikdash, the Holy Temple, the Menorah would be lit every day. But like any candle that is burned, it makes a mess. So every day, a Kohen (priest) had to clean out and prepare the Menorah, but the actual kindling of the light could be done by anyone. While Aharon was alive, he would light it, but after his death, anyone could light the Menorah. How does this parallel with “lighting” our fellow humans? Ordinary people like you and me can share words (or podcasts!) of Torah with anyone. Just as an ordinary person could light the Menorah if it was prepared by a Kohen, ordinary people can also encourage the growth of others if prepared and secure in our own knowledge (or if under the guidance of someone who is!)
It’s a common expression to say that someone’s face, “lights up” when they’re happy or talking about something that gives them joy. If English isn’t your native language, you may wonder why someone’s face “lighting up” is good. Does it mean suddenly their eyes are suddenly emanating light? Or that you see a physical brightness? No, it’s a figure of speech! But I think you can imagine what kind of a reaction I’m referring to.
Cont’d… For full text, email me at [email protected] or join my email list here. opening theme: reCreation by airtone (c) copyright 2019 Licensed
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In last week’s parsha, we discussed a census taken of the Jewish people. As we discussed, it wasn’t a census of *everyone.* It was a census of men ages 20-50 from every tribe except the tribe of Levi, the Levites. (Yes, one group of the Levites are explained in last week’s parsha, but the final 2 groups are detailed here, in Nasso!)
So this week we ARE counting the Leviim / Levites! Some of the Leviim, from the tribe of Levi, who are direct descendants of Aharon, Aaron, are known as Kohanim, priests. But all of the Leviim have the distinct honor of serving some way in the Tabernacle, the Mishkan, or being general teachers of Torah for the Jewish people.
But why are they being counted separately? Because they’re more special than you, that’s why!!! Well we have a few different explanations — that with their special privileges they deserve to be counted separately (as aforementioned), that Hashem knew Bnei Yisrael (the Children of Israel) would make some mistakes that kept them from entering the Land later, but wanted to make sure the Leviim were not included in the excluded group (because they didn’t participate in the Golden Calf / Chet HaEgel debacle), and also that the Leviim have their specific tasks of caring for the Mishkan (the Tabernacle) so they wouldn’t need to be counted in a census that’s for the purpose of assessing how many soldiers we had.
Like making a good stir fry, you can’t just throw everything in the pan and hope for the best! You have to fry everything separately and THEN combine. (To be honest, that’s a tip I JUST leaned … I still haven’t made a satisfactory, restaurant-grade stir fry but that doesn’t stop me from trying)
So, like a stir fry, everyone was fried … I mean COUNTED separately. And yes there are the 12 Tribes, Shvatim within the entire Bnei Yisrael, but even within the Leviim / Levites there are our 3 further groups. Within the Leviim, we have Bnei Gershoni (the Gershonites), Bnei Merari (Merarites), and Bnei Kehati (Kehatites).
What’s the difference you ask? Here we go!
Bnei Kehati had the most “lofty” service. They were tasked with transporting the Ark of the Covenant, the Aron HaBrit, which, as a reminder was this crazy golden covered wooden chest that contained the 2 tablets of the 10 Commandments, the Aseret HaDibrot, within it. They also were tasked with carrying the sacred vessels present in the sanctuary — the Menorah (for light), the Table (for the showbread), and the Incense Altar (for incense offerings). Even just the Ark must have been super heavy, with tons of gold, etc. But the work of Bnei Kehati wasn’t back-breaking labor — it was more spiritual. Our sages note in the Talmud that the Ark wasn’t a heavy object, but that the “Ark would carry its bearers.” The Ark existed in both our physical world, and in the spiritual world, which I guess means it only weighed half of what it actually did? Unclear, but that’s my hypothesis.
We also learn that the Leviim had the responsibility to serve as teachers, conveying Jewish teachings to the whole Jewish people. So when we learn that Bnei Kehati transmitted the Ark physically, they also transmitted its essence, too, through sharing Jewish teachings.
Now Bnei Merari - they actually were back-breaking laborers. They carried the boards and basic parts of the physical structure of the Tabernacle. If Bnei Kehati were the lofty group, Bnei Merari was the more tangible, accessible group.
Between these 2 is Bnei Gershoni. If the spiritual stuff is covered by Bnei Kehati, and the manual stuff is with Bnei Merari, then what does Bnei Gershoni do?
Cont’d…
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It’s crazy, but this week we begin reading from the 4th book of the Torah, Bamidbar (or Numbers).
Bereshit (Genesis) tells the story of the beginning of the world and of the Jewish people.
Shemot (Exodus) tells the story of the exit from Egypt, but the entrance in to a brit (covenant) with G-d.
Vayikra (Leviticus) tells us *how* to be in that covenant, with laws and guidance.
Bamidbar (Numbers) charts the journey for Har Sinai (Mount Sinai) to nearly entering Eretz Yisrael, the Land of Israel. We make some mistakes, and end up spending a bit more time in the desert than we planned (hence the name, BaMidbar meaning “in the desert”).
And Devarim (Deuteronomy) … well we’re not there yet. Don’t want to spoil anything ;P
So now we begin our journey through Bamidbar, Numbers. The English name is Numbers because Moshe (Moses) is commanded to take a census at the beginning and the end of this sefer (book of the Torah).
It’s not like Moshe realized he needed an accurate census count so he could reapportion the House of Representatives… (which is one of the main reasons we have a census in the US). And G-d definitely knows how many people there are, so why take a census?
A census in general sees to it that all are counted equally. Rashi, Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, comments that G-d continually counts the Jewish people out of fondness for us. Other commentary in the Midrash teaches that each person was like a precious pearl to G-d, all equally valuable and worthy like the feeling one has toward their children.
Aw well that’s lovely! Everyone being equal!! Our modern Western minds loooooove that!! Except that it wasn’t everyone counted equally… it was just men over the age of 20.
Ok practically we’re counting people who can be part of a fighting force, which women and children were excluded from in those times. But I can’t help but feel not-seen by this.
I have been feeling un-seen in relation to other things, too.
For example, the rampant false information that has been spread on social media in regard to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict this week. In that, I have felt very un-seen. Our modern western world is terrified of being considered not-progressive, and so they hop on the bandwagon of condemning a complex geopolitical situation they have no stake in.
It’s as if the very WHIFF of being considered un-woke is enough to push everyone to the other side of the conflict.
Though the majority of the progressive / left-leaning world has turned on Israel in the wake of this craziness, as is to be expected when you have no stake in the game… interestingly enough, Jews (on the whole) have remained steadfast. A Pew report came out this week https://www.pewforum.org/2021/05/11/jewish-americans-in-2020/ and had some interesting findings — 71% of Jews (total) identify or lean Democrat / to the left, so it’s not like everyone suddenly ticks a different box.
In regard to Judaism, progressive Jews, when reading parshiyot like the current one, can become uncomfortable. But at the WHIFF of female oppression do we denounce our Judaism? I feel like the answer is no.
Cont’d…
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