Torah

shoftim_ Darius Gilmont

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Re’eh – Deut. 11:26-16:17 (Aug. 6/7)

As the Torah Turns

Rabbi Lader’s Weekly D’var Torah

Re’eh – Deut. 11:26-16:17 (Aug. 6/7)

Our Torah portion this week is Re’eh – Deut. 11:26-16:17. Moses continues to set the parameters for creating a supportive social structure, as the Israelites prepare to enter the Promised Land. Chapter 15 paints the idealistic picture that “[T]here will be no needy among you… if only you heed the Eternal your God and take care to keep all this Instruction that I enjoin upon you this day…” (Deut. 15:4-5) Then, verses 7-8 come to a more realistic vision and action to take: “If, however, there is a needy person among you… in any of your settlements… do not harden your heart and shut your hand against your needy kin. Rather you must open your hand and lend him sufficient for whatever he needs.” (15:7-8) In order to give people a sufficient amount for what they need, one must have an idea, some level of understanding of what they are going through. Understanding implies active listening, taking seriously what people are sharing and experiencing. In verse 8, the Hebrew that is translated as “…You must open your hand to him…” is a doubling of the word for open: Ki fato-ach tiftach et yadcha lo. When there is a doubling of a Hebrew word in the text, this implies emphasis. Rashi (1040-1105) teaches that the doubling of the instruction to do this implies doing this many times. By doing this many times, the person develops the midot (character traits) of lev patuach (open heartedness) and n’divut (generosity). In other words, the opening of one’s hand can lead to the opening of one’s heart — and/or perhaps vis versa. The Jewish ideals of giving to those in need – tzedakah – were summarized and taught by Rabbi Moses Maimonides (RaMBaM) – 1138-1204.

Maimonides believed that there are different ways one can give to those in need; it is like a ladder with eight rungs, from bottom to top. Each step you climb brings you to a higher level of giving:

  1. The person who gives reluctantly and with regret.
  2. The person who gives graciously, but less than one should.
  3. The person who gives what one should, but only after being asked.
  4. The person who gives before being asked.
  5. The person who gives without knowing to whom they give, although the recipient knows the identity of the donor.
  6. The person who gives without making their identity known.
  7. The person who gives without knowing to whom they give. The recipient does not know the identity of the donor.
  8. The person who helps another to become self-supporting by a gift or a loan or by finding employment for the recipient.

Note that there is no rung for those who do not give. The giving of tzedakah is a “given;” how you choose to do so is up to you.

From Previous Weeks

shoftim_ Darius Gilmont

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Shoftim – Deut. 16:18-21:9 (Aug. 13/14)

As the Torah Turns

Rabbi Lader’s Weekly D’var Torah

Shoftim – Deut. 16:18-21:9 (Aug. 13/14)

This week’s Torah portion is Shoftim – Deut. 16:18-21:9, and includes the instruction for the Jewish value of bal tashchit – do not destroy — do not waste…  Rabbi Rachmiel Gurwitz, writing for T’ruah – the rabbinic call for human rights, teaches: “We create tons of waste. Each person generates about five pounds a day. In our fast-paced society where convenience and cost are supremely valued, the result is a “disposable” lifestyle. From to-go containers to plastic packaging, old clothes and millions of other items, we are quite accustomed to tossing things in the landfill. Waste, though, is not just bad for the environment, it is a biblical prohibition. We read in Shoftim : 

When in your war against a city you have to besiege it a long time in order to capture it, lo tashchit – you must not destroy its trees, wielding the ax against them. You may eat of them, but you must not cut them down. For is the tree of the field a person, that it should be besieged by you? (Deuteronomy 20:19-20) 

 The setting is striking. Even during a war, a moment of life and death, the Torah implores us: Do not destroy. All the more so in our own lives when the choice is far less drastic, we must always search and seek out ways to avoid unnecessary destructive action… Rambam (12th century, Spain & Egypt) basing his interpretation on numerous examples in the Talmud, wrote that the mitzvah of bal tashchit goes beyond just preserving fruit trees: “Do not destroy fruit-trees (wantonly or in warfare), nor may anything else be (wantonly) destroyed.” (Sefer Mitzvot, Lo Ta’aseh 57)  He sees this mitzvah as far more expansive. Destruction without purpose is a violation of the Torah. It seems odd, though, to read what seems like a narrow context so expansively. It is understandable that fruit trees that support human survival would be protected from destruction, but Rambam… focuses on the act of destruction, as opposed to the thing that is being destroyed.  Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch (19th century Germany)… frames the lo ta’aseh (“thou shalt not”) of bal tashchit in the context of creation. Creation is a divine act, so to destroy is a violation of that initial divine action. When we dispose of things prematurely, we flippantly discard the creative divine energy within them.

Bal tashchit compels us to reflect on our own lives and the waste we generate. Where are places we can reduce our waste, change wasteful habits, or give items new life? It might mean taking on new commitments, like pledging to shop only secondhand or use only reusable plastic containers, composting, switching to digital billing, or using cloth diapers. It is incredibly difficult to break fully free from our disposable culture, but bal tashchit is a call to action urging us to think about the full life cycle of the things we need and use each day… We too should be distressed by wanton waste, and it is all around us. We live in a luxurious time where many of us can afford to toss the old and buy something new. Let’s first ask ourselves, is there some way to mend, repair, repurpose, reuse, pass down, recycle, donate, gift, sell, or give this item a second life in some way? Through this process we will not only fulfill the mitzvah of bal tashchit, but join in the creative and spiritual cycle (and recycle) of all things.” * You might wonder why, if the Hebrew from our Torah portion says – lo tashchit, why is the mitzvah called bal tashchit? The term we use – bal tashchit – comes from the Aramaic; “bal” is the Aramaic equivalent of “don’t [do this]”.

From Previous Weeks

listening skills child

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Ekev – Deut. 7:12-11:25 (Jul. 29/30)

As the Torah Turns

Rabbi Lader’s Weekly D’var Torah

Ekev – Deut. 7:12-11:25 (Jul.29/30)

This week we turn to Ekev – Deut. 7:12-11:25. “If only you would listen to these laws …” (Deut. 7:12). These words with which our parsha begins contain a verb that is a fundamental motif of the book of Deuteronomy. The verb is sh-m-a. It occurred in last week’s parsha in the most famous line of the whole of Judaism, Shema Yisrael. It occurs later in this week’s parsha in the second paragraph of the Shema, “It shall be if you surely listen [shamoa tishme’u] … (Deut. 11:13). It appears no less than 92 times in Deuteronomy as a whole. In his commentary on this week’s portion, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (z”l) wrote: “Time and again in the last month of his life Moses told the people, Shema: listen, heed, pay attention. Hear what I am saying. Hear what God is saying. Listen to what he wants from us. If you would only listen … Judaism is a religion of listening. This is one of its most original contributions to civilization. The twin foundations on which Western culture was built were ancient Greece and ancient Israel. They could not have been more different. Greece was a profoundly visual culture. Its greatest achievements had to do with the eye, with seeing. It produced some of the greatest art, sculpture and architecture the world has ever seen. Its most characteristic group events – theatrical performances and the Olympic games – were spectacles: performances that were watched. Plato thought of knowledge as a kind of depth vision, seeing beneath the surface to the true form of things. This idea – that knowing is seeing – remains the dominant metaphor in the West even today. We speak of insight, foresight and hindsight. We offer an observation. We adopt a perspective. We illustrate. We illuminate. We shed light on an issue. When we understand something, we say, “I see.” Judaism offered a radical alternative. It is faith in a God we cannot see, a God who cannot be represented visually. The very act of making a graven image – a visual symbol – is a form of idolatry. As Moses reminded the people in last week’s Torah portion, when the Israelites had a direct encounter with God at Mount Sinai, “You heard the sound of words, but saw no image; there was only a voice.” (Deut. 4:12). God communicates in sounds, not sights. He speaks. He commands. He calls. That is why the supreme religious act is Shema. When God speaks, we listen. When He commands, we try to obey… This may seem like a small difference, but it is in fact a huge one. For the Greeks, the ideal form of knowledge involved detachment. There is the one who sees, the subject, and there is that which is seen, the object, and they belong to two different realms…  Speaking and listening are not forms of detachment. They are forms of engagement. They create a relationship. The Hebrew word for knowledge, da’at, implies involvement, closeness, intimacy. “And Adam knew Eve his wife and she conceived and gave birth” (Gen. 4:1). That is knowing in the Hebrew sense, not the Greek. We can enter into a relationship with God, even though He is infinite and we are finite, because we are linked by words. In revelation, God speaks to us. In prayer, we speak to God. If you want to understand any relationship, between husband and wife, or parent and child, or employer and employee, pay close attention to how they speak and listen to one another. Ignore everything else… Listening lies at the very heart of relationship. It means that we are open to the other, that we respect him or her, that their perceptions and feelings matter to us. We give them permission to be honest, even if this means making ourselves vulnerable in so doing. A good parent listens to their child. A good employer listens to his or her workers. A good company listens to its customers or clients. A good leader listens to those he or she leads. Listening does not mean agreeing but it does mean caring. Listening is the climate in which love and respect grow. In Judaism we believe that our relationship with God is an ongoing tutorial in our relationships with other people. How can we expect God to listen to us if we fail to listen to our spouse, our children, or those affected by our work? And how can we expect to encounter God if we have not learned to listen. On Mount Horeb, God taught Elijah that He was not in the whirlwind, the earthquake or the fire but in the kol demamah dakah, the “still, small voice” It is that voice you can only hear if you are listening. Crowds are moved by great speakers, but lives are changed by great listeners…”

From Previous Weeks

Shema w:eyes covered

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Va’etchanan – Deut. 3:23-7:11 (Jul. 23/24)

As the Torah Turns

Rabbi Lader’s Weekly D’var Torah

Va’etchanan – Deut. 3:23-7:11 (Jul. 23/24)

Our Torah portion this week is Va’etchanan – Deut. 3:23-7:11 and calls us to “Listen, Israel, the Eternal is our God, the Eternal is One.” Deut. 6:4) The first word to follow this “watchword of our faith” is love – “You shall love the Eternal your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all that you have.” (Deut. 6:5)Listen and love. Rabbi Yakov Nagen in his book Be, Become, Bless: Jewish Spirituality between East and West (2019) comments that “Listening is the absolute sign of love, and an inability to listen is a sign (and a cause) of a lack of true love. When we love someone, we care about them and are interested to hear what they have to say, so we are able and want to listen to them… Listening is not a passive activity. It is an art and it entails great effort. It is: being present.  When we listen and allow the words we hear to penetrate us deeply, we make space for the other (for the Other…) and receive them. This is the meaning of love.” (p. 281) Many people cover their eyes while reciting the “Shema,” enabling them to focus on what it is that they are saying.  Yet, another way of understanding this is taught in The Little Prince: “What is essential is invisible to the eye.” Closing one’s eyes enables one to focus deeply, and when one truly listens, one sees with the heart. Rabbi Nagen teaches us that we are told to listen… and to affirm the Oneness, the singularity, of God.  And then we are told to love God… Wherever we are, that place, that time, is where (and when) God is as well.  There is a sense of unity in this; a unity of God and a unity with God.  The gematria (numerical value) of the word “one” (Echad – אחד – 1+8+4) and the word “love” (ahava – אהבה – 1+5+2+5) is the same = 13. Love means becoming one with another, just like in the archetypal story in the Garden of Eden, “And they shall cleave to their beloved, and they will be one flesh” (Bereshit 2:24).  The power of love is in the feeling that the other is not a stranger to me, but becomes “bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh” (Bereshit 2:23), and together we become “one flesh” (Ibid 24). The strength of our connection to God stems from the acknowledgment that we are created in God’s image, that God is not strange or external to us. Attaching ourselves to God does not blur our individual identity, it sharpens it. Attaching ourselves to our beloved does not blur our individual identity, it sharpens it. Close your eyes… and listen… with your heart… and love.

From Previous Weeks

Devarim

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Devarim – Deuteronomy – Deut. 1:1-3:22 (Jul. 16/17)

As the Torah Turns

Rabbi Lader’s Weekly D’var Torah

Devarim – Deuteronomy – Deut. 1:1-3:22 (Jul. 16/17)


This week we begin the book of Devarim – Deuteronomy – Deut. 1:1-3:22.  Moses begins his series of orations to the people of Israel as they are about to enter the Promised Land.  He begins with recalling the past forty years, starting with Sinai, and reminds the people that he could not lead them alone and without help, saying: “Pick from each of your tribes people who are wise, insightful, and seasoned…” (Deut. 1:13)  And they did.  What does it mean to be wise?  Is it insight?  Good judgement? Common sense?  An orderly and balanced sense? The Mishnah (Pirke Avot 5:9) teaches – 

A fool and a sage both have seven traits:

The wise never speak before the wiser.

They do not interrupt their companions;

they are not afraid to reply;

they ask to the point and reply as they should;

they speak of first things first and last things last.

If they have not heard they say I have not heard.

They acknowledge the truth.

The reverse is true of fools.

And Rabbi Chaim Stern teaches, in Day By Day – his collection of daily insights on the weekly Torah portion; this one in preparation for Shabbat:

How can I be at rest when I am jumping to conclusions?  Keep me from knowing before I know, from arriving before I get there; teach me that I must earn my wisdom by attending to my experience; and although the only experience I can have is my own, show me how to learn from the experience of others, and thus make it my own.

Perhaps true wisdom is balance, humility, learning from one’s own experiences, being open to new experiences, and always seeking to learn more.

From Previous Weeks

footsteps in desert sand 2

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Matot/Massei – Numbers 30:2 – 36:13 (Jul. 9/10)

As the Torah Turns

Rabbi Lader’s Weekly D’var Torah

Mattot/Mase’ei – Num. 30:2-32:42/33:1-36:13 (Jul. 9/10)

It seems like it was only yesterday that we began the book of Numbers, and yet, with this week’s double portion of Matot/Massei Numbers 30:2 – 36:13, we find Moses sharing instructions and land distribution rights with the Israelites, as well as recounting the journeys – massei – of the Israelites, outlining their travels from Egypt through the desert.  

“These were the marches of the Israelites who started from the land of Egypt, troop by troop, in the charge of Moses and Aaron. Moses recorded the starting points of their various marches as directed by the Lord….” (Numbers 33:1-2).

 Why list every starting – and stopping – point on the Israelites’ journey?  Various midrashim and rabbinic commentators offer various explanations: “Cup half full” – 1) the travels are enumerated to emphasize and highlight God’s power, and to ensure that the Israelites recognize God’s strength… “Cup half empty” – 2) the detailed review will act as a rebuke to the Israelites, for according to the Midrash, every place that is listed was a locus of sins committed by the Israelites… “Hey, you held on to the cup!” – 3) Sforno, a medieval commentator, explains that the Torah’s listing acts to praise the Jewish nation – the list of their stopping points highlights the challenges they faced, and by extension praises their faith. Abigail Dauber Sterne, Educator for the Mandel Fellows Institute, suggests that the text might be telling us something about journeys per se. “The Torah is emphasizing the value of travel. By repeating the Israelites’ itinerary, the text draws attention to all the places that the Israelites have been and to all the experiences they have had. In essence, the Torah is saying that there is inherent value to journeys, to life experiences. Whether these experiences are one’s great triumphs and miracles or whether they are one’s trials and failures, they are, in and of themselves, important. For every individual, every family, and every nation, our collected experiences create who we are and what is meaningful to us.”  Thus, our Torah teaches us that the recounting of the Israelites’ journeys and their experiences is important for them – and for us – as they (and we) appreciate the development of our people’s (and our own) unique character and identity. As we conclude the fourth book of Torah, we say together:Be strong! Be Strong! And let us strengthen each other!

From Previous Weeks

pinchas

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Pinchas – Numbers 25:10-30 (Jul.2/3)

As the Torah Turns

Rabbi Lader’s Weekly D’var Torah

Pinchas – Numbers 25:10-30 (Jul. 2/3)

Last week’s Torah portion (Balak) ended with a cliffhanger, as the Israelites are lured into debauchery and idolatry by the locals, and God becomes incensed. God instructs Moses to kill (impale) the ringleaders. As Moses and the elders are standing there, thinking about what an act of violence this will take… an Israelite tribesman takes a Midianite woman into the tent chamber near the Sanctuary to engage in sexual relations with her, and Pinchas, the priestly grandson of Aaron, follows them in and impales both on a spear. Pinchas’s action has averted a terrible disaster and the plague that has already claimed twenty-four thousand people, is checked.  End of portion.

This week’s portion is Pinchas – Numbers 25:10-30, and opens:

 The Eternal spoke to Moses, saying, “Pinchas, son of Eleazar son of Aaron the priest, has turned back My wrath from the Israelites by displaying among them his passion for Me, so that I did not wipe out the Israelite people in My passion. Say, therefore, ‘I grant him My pact of friendship [covenant of peace – b’rit shalom]. It shall be for him and his descendants after him a pact of priesthood for all time, because he took impassioned action for his God, thus making expiation for the Israelites.’” (B’midbar 25:10-13)          Shalom Symbol - ClipArt Best

 So it seems that God approves of what Pinchas did and bestows a covenant of peace for him and for his descendants for all time. However the scribing of the text hints that Pinchas’s peace is imperfect. The Hebrew letter vav is comprised of a long vertical stem and a very short horizontal line at the top. (See third letter from the right, above)  The Letter Vav However, in the Sefer Torah (the Torah scroll), in the specific word shalom in the phrase b’rit shalom – the covenant of peace with which God endows Pinchas in this episode, the vertical stem of the letter vav has a break in it; as if it were an “imperfect peace” [as if it were not whole – or shaleim in Hebrew]. Indeed… In a commentary by Rabbi Marc Wolf, Rabbi Wolf notes that commentators have wondered why the difficult episode of Pinchas is split between the two successive portions read last week and this. He suggests one possible reason: “…in splitting the story, we are afforded some distance from the violence, so that when we read God’s gracious response and blessing of Pinchas and his descendants, it does not sit in as stark a contrast with the bloody outcome of Pinchas’s actions.”

Like many of us, Rabbi Wolf, too, is uncomfortable with the seeming endorsement in the text of Pinchas’s brutal act, and wonders how to understand the reward of the “b’rit shalom – the covenant of peace.” Rabbi Wolf teaches that God has understood that a b’rit shalom is needed because the violence, though mandated, has undermined the unity among the people. Rabbi Wolf suggests that the covenant of peace is not only for Pinchas, but also for the Children of Israel.  Peace cannot be perfect, if it is not whole. [Perhaps the Torah scribes underscored this as a message to us, as we read the scroll. Pinchas – and the people – have some healing to do. This then begs the question: what about us? How perfect is our own sense of peace?] Rabbi Wolf concludes, “Rabbinic Judaism could not let the story of Pinchas stand as an example for religious fervor. In a wonderful piece of Talmud from Sanhedrin, when his fanaticism comes face to face with rabbinic courts, the Rabbis acknowledge the immorality, but declare, “The law may permit it, but we do not follow that law” (82a). “This kind of fanaticism and violence are overwhelmingly the dominant voices much of the world hears in the name of religion. However, we are inheritors of a tradition that understands that Judaism is a voice of moderation, and that religion guides us to be better humans, working to fulfill God’s will and to respect life…  We walk in the footsteps of the Rabbis who understood the damage done by extremism. We practice a Judaism that seeks sh’leimut  – wholeness – in our relationship not only with God, but with each other and within ourselves.”

From Previous Weeks

Gustav_Jaeger_Balaam and angel

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Balak – Num. 22:2-25:9 (Jun. 25/26)

As the Torah Turns

Rabbi Lader’s Weekly D’var Torah

Balak – Num. 22:2-25:9 (Jun. 25/26)

I spent this past Tuesday in Washington. D.C. on Capitol Hill.  Well, I should say I was part of an Ohio/Michigan delegation and zoomed in for meetings with Ohio and Michigan Senators and Representatives to advocate for passing legislation on behalf of the Rohingya and Burmese people, as well as permanently repealing the Global Gag Rule.  Five meetings in five and a half hours; thanking our congress men and women for their past support and hoping for their continuing support of these important pieces of legislation.*  I am not politically savvy; truthfully, I’m rather an idealist, as many of you know.  I see the news, I find out the details; I attend leadership seminars where I learn from people who are working “on the ground” trying to make due with little financial support, minimal health resources, and maximal political persecution… and I wonder how long it will take for people to understand that human rights are for all people, not just people with power.  If we remain blind to realities, does it mean they do not exist?  When the unknown becomes known, can we have the courage to confront what we’d rather keep invisible?  In his d’var Torah this week, Rabbi Jesse Paikin asks: What makes the unseen seen? What makes the unknown known? And what do we do once we know and see?

 These are questions that Parshat Balak throws quite literally in our face. In one of the most vivid scenes in the Torah, the magician Bilaam – dispatched by an enemy king on a nefarious mission to curse the Children of Israel – comes face-to-face with a messenger of God. Famously, Bilaam – due to ignorance or wilful blindness – could not see the messenger with his own eyes; only his donkey could. It ultimately takes an act of God to open Bilaam’s eyes: 

Then the ETERNAL opened Bilaam’s eyes, and he saw the angel of the ETERNAL standing in the road with his sword drawn. So he bowed low and fell facedown. (Numbers 22:31)

 Much rabbinic commentary focuses on Bilaam’s ignorance and the symbolism of the donkey as the one who could sense God’s presence. But for a moment, I want to extend Bilaam some empathy. We can understand that it’s hard to see the things we’d rather not. We can even have compassion for the depths of strength it takes to confront our moral responsibility for those things we’d rather remain buried – it literally takes the power of God to open Bilaam’s eyes. But then there’s a shift. Once Bilaam’s eyes are open, he accepts responsibility. He confronts the truth and moves for reconciliation: “I erred because I did not know that you were standing in my way,” (Numbers 22:34) he confesses to God. He moves from a program of cursing to one of blessing. Rashi’s commentary makes the upshot of this shift to responsibility abundantly clear: In observing that Bilaam – a non-Israelite foreigner – benefits from God’s direct intervention, he asks a frankly astonishing question: “Why does the Shechinah (God’s Presence) rest upon so wicked a person?” (Rashi on Numbers 22:5)  

His answer: so that nobody anywhere might ever use the excuse: “If only I had known, I would have changed for the better.” When the unknown becomes known, can we have the courage to confront what we’d rather keep invisible? This moment in Torah provides an unambiguous example of how, once our eyes are open to the truth, it cannot be ignored. All the more so, it must be acted upon.

I went to Washington, DC this week because the importance of human rights is key to my Jewish values.  I think this is underscored in one of our important rabbinic teachings: If I am not for myself, who will be for me?If I am only for myself, what am I?And… if not now, when?(Pirke Avot 1:14) Rabbi Hillel, the author of this text, knew how we must take care of ourselves; this goes for each of us personally, and our community, and our country.  Certainly, we have to make sure that our needs are met so that we can be the best that we can be.  But, what do we become when we think only about ourselves?  By using the word “what” – Rabbi Hillel teaches us that we become less than human.  When we turn our backs on the human rights of others, we lose part of our own humanity. And if not now?  The urgency of now cannot be put off for tomorrow.  We simply cannot turn our backs on the persecution of the Rohingya and other peoples of Burma; nor can we turn our backs on the importance of supporting proper health care, empowerment, and human rights around the world. I went to Washington, DC this week because the urgency of now impels me to help make this world the best that it can be.  When the unknown becomes known, we must find the courage to confront what we’d rather keep invisible. * We were part of a larger contingent of clergy and staff and leadership of the American Jewish World Service.  37 advocates visited 51 congressional offices representing 20 different states, 29 senators, 22 representatives, 47 Democrats, and 4 Republicans.  

From Previous Weeks

abstract Chukat (colorful)

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Chukkat – Numbers 19:1-22:1 (Jun. 18/19)

As the Torah Turns

Rabbi Lader’s Weekly D’var Torah

Chukkat – Numbers 19:1-22:1 (Jun. 18/19)

Can You Spot the Difference??? Our Torah portion this week is Chukkat – Numbers 19:1-22:1 and includes God’s admonition of Moses after the people cry out, yet again, from thirst.  This has happened before, where the Israelites cry out to Moses — how is this time different from all other times? Example #1 — The Israelites have just left Egypt and are standing at the shores of the Reed Sea — with Pharaoh’s army close at their heels.  The people cry out to God and grumble to Moses, and what does Moses do? 

As Pharaoh drew near, the Israelites caught sight of the Egyptians advancing upon them. Greatly frightened, the Israelites cried out to the Eternal. And they said to Moses, “Was it for want of graves in Egypt that you brought us to die in the wilderness? What have you done to us, taking us out of Egypt? Is this not the very thing we told you in Egypt, saying, ‘Let us be, and we will serve the Egyptians, for it is better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness’?” But Moses said to the people, “Have no fear! Stand by, and witness the deliverance which the Eternal will work for you today; for the Egyptians whom you see today you will never see again. (Ex. 14:10-13) 

Example #2 — Right on the heels of leaving the Reed Sea, the Israelites travel… and find no water.  They cry out to Moses, and Moses cries out to God, and what does Moses do?

 

Then Moses caused Israel to set out from the Sea of Reeds. They went on into the wilderness of Shur; they traveled three days in the wilderness and found no water. They came to Marah, but they could not drink the water of Marah because it was bitter; that is why it was named Marah.  And the people grumbled against Moses, saying, “What shall we drink?”  So he cried out to the Eternal, and the Eternal showed him a piece of wood; he threw it into the water and the water became sweet. There God made for them a fixed rule, and there God put them to the test. God said, “If you will heed the Eternal your God diligently, doing what is upright in God’s sight, giving ear to God’s commandments and keeping all God’s laws, then I will not bring upon you any of the diseases that I brought upon the Egyptians, for I the Eternal am your healer.”  And they came to Elim, where there were twelve springs of water and seventy palm trees; and they encamped there beside the water. (Ex. 15:22-27) 

Example #3 — Traveling again, the Israelites cry out for water… and Moses receives instructions from God:

 

From the wilderness of Seen the whole Israelite community continued by stages as the Eternal would command. They encamped at Rephidim, and there was no water for the people to drink. The people quarreled with Moses. “Give us water to drink,” they said; and Moses replied to them, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you try the Eternal?”  But the people thirsted there for water; and the people grumbled against Moses and said, “Why did you bring us up from Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?”  Moses cried out to the Eternal, saying, “What shall I do with this people? Before long they will be stoning me!”  Then the Eternal said to Moses, “Pass before the people; take with you some of the elders of Israel, and take along the rod with which you struck the Nile, and set out.  I will be standing there before you on the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock and water will issue from it, and the people will drink.” And Moses did so in the sight of the elders of Israel.

 Example #4 — Fast-forward close to 40 years, and this week’s Torah portion; the people grumble for water and Moses receives instructions from God.  What was Moses’ mistake?

  

  

The Israelites arrived in a body at the wilderness of Zin on the first new moon, and the people stayed at Kadesh. Miriam died there and was buried there.  The community was without water, and they joined against Moses and Aaron.  The people quarreled with Moses, saying, “If only we had perished when our brothers perished at the instance of the Eternal! Why have you brought the Eternal’s congregation into this wilderness for us and our beasts to die there?  Why did you make us leave Egypt to bring us to this wretched place, a place with no grain or figs or vines or pomegranates? There is not even water to drink!”   Moses and Aaron came away from the congregation to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting, and fell on their faces. The Presence of the Eternal appeared to them, and the Eternal spoke to Moses, saying, “You and your brother Aaron take the rod and assemble the community, and before their very eyes order the rock to yield its water. Thus you shall produce water for them from the rock and provide drink for the congregation and their beasts.”   Moses took the rod from before the Eternal, as God had commanded him.  Moses and Aaron assembled the congregation in front of the rock; and he said to them, “Listen, you rebels, shall we get water for you out of this rock?”  And Moses raised his hand and struck the rock twice with his rod. Out came copious water, and the community and their beasts drank.   But the Eternal said to Moses and Aaron, “Because you did not trust Me enough to affirm My sanctity in the sight of the Israelite people, therefore you shall not lead this congregation into the land that I have given them.”  (Num. 20:1-12)

Can you spot the difference?  What does God mean when God says to Moses: “Because you did not trust Me enough to affirm My sanctity in the sight of the Israelite people”?  Is God that upset because Moses struck the rock and didn’t speak to the rock?  Would Moses’ speaking to the rock have affirmed God’s sanctity in the sight of the people? 

 Perhaps it wasn’t what Moses did — but what Moses said?  In front of the people, standing next to Aaron, Moses holds his staff and says, “… shall we get water for you out of this rock?”  Moses says “we” — not the “Royal We” – but the Aaron and I “we”… as if it is Aaron and Moses who are bringing the water out of the rock… and in saying this, Moses diminishes God’s holiness before the people.   Moses has been leading this people for forty years… Well, actually, this people is now the next generation.  What God has realized is that this next generation is ready for a new and more patient leadership… and Moses will come to realize that as well.   What a difference a word makes!

From Previous Weeks

Who was Korach?

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Korach – Numbers 16:1-18:32 (Jun. 11/12)

As the Torah Turns

Rabbi Lader’s Weekly D’var Torah

Korach – Numbers 16:1-18:32 (Jun. 11/12)


Our Torah scroll turns to Korach this week – Numbers 16:1-18:32, and features a serious assault on Moses’ leadership of the Israelites. In the midst of the Israelites’ desert wanderings, a Levite named Korach rallies a group of two hundred and fifty fellow Levites, who accuse Moses and his brother Aaron of assuming too much power for themselves: “All the community are holy. Why then do you raise yourself above the Eternal’s congregation?” (16:3). Korach’s explicit demand is that leadership be distributed more equally, but Moses suspects that Korach and his followers have an ulterior motive. They have two very different leadership styles and desires.  Ilana Kurshan, award-winning author of “If All the Seas Were Ink“, points out that “…one devalues the common good for selfish ends, thereby pandering to our basic instincts; the other elevates the common good to a central place in society, thereby upholding our aspirations.”   Kurshan continues: “Although Korach presents himself as a populist, Moshe understands that Korach and his followers are really intent on their own self-aggrandizement. Moses realizes that the rebels were resentful that Aaron and his sons—a different branch of the Levite family—were chosen as priests instead of them. Moses then tells the men who rose up against him and Aaron, “Is it not enough for you that the God of Israel has set you apart from the community of Israel and given you access to Him, to perform the duties of the Lord’s Tabernacle…Do you seek the priesthood too?” (16:9-10). [The priesthood – its roles and its riches… and its prestige…]  Two of Korach’s fellow rebels, Datan and Aviram, have particular difficulty understanding Moses’ attitude toward leadership. The Talmud (Nedarim 64b) identifies these two men as the two Israelite slaves whom Moses saw fighting when he went out among his kinsmen in Egypt. “Why do you strike your fellow” (Exodus 2:13) Moses asked one of them, and he replied, “Who made you chief and ruler over us?” (Ex. 2:14). As the rejoinder suggests, Datan and Aviram, like Korach, assume that Moses is just trying to take power for himself. They do not realize that Moses is motivated not by power but by justice; not by might but by right. They assume that his leadership is about his own authority and glory, but that is only because this is their own model of leadership, and they cannot imagine any other. Korach seeks honor and authority. He is a reminder that those very leaders who masquerade as populists are often so focused on themselves that they have no space to consider the good of the people they purport to want to lead. Only a truly humble leader can dedicate his or her energies to doing what is best for others. Perhaps it is fitting that Moses dies high up on the summit of Pisgah, whereas Korach’s band is swallowed into the earth. As our parashah reminds us, great leaders like Moses do not direct attention to themselves but focus our gaze upwards — on values and ideals that lie far above the petty concerns of Korach and his followers.” Link to Kurshan’s full text.

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