Parasha Devarim, "Then there are the Results" Deuteronomy 1:1-3:22, Haftarah, Isaiah 1:1-27

This week we begin a new book of Torah, and its first parasha shares the same name Devarim, a Hebrew word that means “words,” although it can also mean “things.”   Most everyone in the English-speaking world refers to Devarim as Deuteronomy, a word that comes from the Greek word deutero (hence Deuteronomy), which means “second” to support the tradition that in this book Moses gives us a “second” rendering of the Ten Words, or commandments.  So, while Devarim is a better name for the book because it's about Moses’ words, I am also going to refer to it as Deuteronomy because it is more recognizable.

This book, again made up of Moses’ own words, makes Deuteronomy about one man’s testimony, sharing his thoughts and teachings to Israel over several days as they are encamped east of the Jordan prior to entering the land.  But these inner thoughts and teachings really stem from the view of Torah that Moses is B’tzelem Elohim, or fashioned in the image of God, making his spoken words an outward reflection of an inner intent that was based on his personal connection to the Divine, not only in this parasha, but throughout the entire book.

As such Deuteronomy begins with a prologue, that actually goes from 1:1-4:42, although parasha Devarim is only 1:1-3:22.  Devarim is a historical summation that is in two parts; the first being post Mt. Sinai (1:6-45) and the second being pre-Canaan (1:46-3:22). Next week in Va’et'chanan - from Deuteronomy 4:1-42 - the Law is also taught as part of Israel’s history, which is why history and Law are combined in the Haftarah reading of Isaiah, allowing Moses to conclude his opening remarks by saying in 4:43, “This (zot) is the Teaching that Moses set before the Israelite's.”  But we must understand that “this” presumes everything that went before it, just not the Law of 4:1-42, but all the way back to 1:1, making Israel's assorted history just as much a part of “Torah” that the new generation would possess as they entered this new land after their wanderings. Important, you bet!  For Moses Israel’s history had everything to do with its future and wanted to remind them of that by saying, “Listen Israel, you are about to enter the land, a land that your fathers and mothers are not going to enter, and I want to tell you why!”

When Moses recounts Israel’s history after leaving Egypt, he reminds them of his efforts to lead the community in a fair and partial way. In so doing he felt that he needed leaders beyond himself (1:9-13), a reference that goes back to when they were still camped at Mt. Sinai (cf. Ex, 18:25), with Rashi teaching that the people “at once decided the matter (or said yes for their own) benefit.”  Moses also reminds them that their parents responded by saying “What you say is good” (1:14). Yet Moses further reminds these Chalutzim, or the "pioneers" that are about to enter the land, that their fathers and mothers additionally said, “it is out of hatred for us that the Lord brought us out of the land of Egypt, to hand us over to the Amorites to wipe us out” (1:27), a reference going back to the story of the spies and the new land before them. Moses picked this one event for a simple reason; the result of discontent and lack of faith produced unfortunate spoken words that caused an additional 38 years of wondering, with all but two of those people being excluded from entering the land, a source of personal pain for Moses.

Regarding the story of the spies at the very beginning it says, “Shalach L’cha,’ or “send for yourself,” from Numbers 31:2.  Turning to Rashi once again, the great medieval Rabbi, he also interprets that to mean that the spies were sent out according to Moses' own human judgement, with God responding, “I do not command you, but if you wish to do so send them.” The Sforno takes it one step further and teaches that “God was cautioning Moses that by allowing the people to select the spies themselves, that if they chose unsuitable candidates and they came back with a faulty report, the people would blame God for what was wrong with the country instead of the inadequate ability of the spies to correctly evaluate what they had seen,” which is why Moses said “it is out of hatred for us that the Lord …”  All to say, do not blame God for our own words that create our own messes.

Numbers ended with the importance of vows and oaths and Deuteronomy begins with the nature of words. What do we know about the nature of words? Well, words hold significant meaning because they are the primary medium of human communication that express thoughts and emotions, convey information, and establish connections with others. Words have the power to inspire and create, mend and heal, comfort and motivate, educate, and even change the course of history, whether spoken or written, words have the ability to resonate deeply within us and leave lasting impacts. But a bad word is just as powerful, thus we read in Pirkei Avot, "[The] Sages [taught] be careful with your words, lest you incur the penalty of exile" (Avot 1:11). In the case of the spies this is exactly what happened and it altered the history of an entire nation, which was Moses' point: you will suffer the same fate as your ancestors in the land by speaking words that divide and conquer. Yes, not only are our words our bond, but we must also remember that the results of those words is another matter.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam

 

Parasha Matot-Maesi, Our Word is Our Bond; Numbers 30:2-36:13, Haftarah, Jeremiah 2:4-28, 4:1-2

This week is a double parasha, Matot-Masei, and is the last reading in Numbers as they are still waiting on the banks of the Jordan about to cross into Canaan after their long 40-year journey. You can only imagine the people, wide eyed as they longed to look at this land across the water that they had only heard about for many years, a reality about to come true.  As such, Moses is doing his best to instruct this incipient nation that there is a way to be, a way to act, and a way to treat each other.

So, in this concluding reading we find words regarding their final battle with the Midianites as well as the need for the tribes to support each other in their joint conquest to settle the land.  We also read about a recap, a life review if you will, about the journey itself, and given the nature of people, the need to setup cites of refuge where others can be safe from vigilantes who feel they are judge, jury and executioner, ending with the integrity of the tribes themselves to stay together.  But we are also in the count down to Tisha B'av, which is why our Haftarah comes from Jerimiah and how the tongue was connected to the destruction of the temple that scattered the Jewish people into the wilderness once again.

In short it appears to be about societal order to keep this people from chaos. Yet in the very beginning of this Torah parasha we encounter words about vows and oaths, both for men and women alike, a topic that is so important that an entire tractate of Talmud, called Nedarim, is dedicated to the idea of vows; a topic that is too large to address in a mere blog post. Yet our verse of interest is from Numbers 30:3 that says: “If a householder makes a vow to Adonai or takes an oath imposing an obligation on himself, he shall not break his pledge; he must carry out all that has crossed his lips.”  A vow is a promise to God, or something promised to God.  Likewise, a vow is about an object whereas the oath is about the person who makes it, or do you take it, or is it both?  It makes sense where it is placed: Israel is about to enter the land and they must be able to count on each other, their word is their bond so to speak. But the idea of a vow and/or oath took a different path as Judaism developed.

In the Talmud, from Nedarim, the Rabbi’s understood vows quite differently. Firstly, they were connected to the Nazerite vow since the Nazerite made vows of abstinence (Nedarim 1a), which seem to differ from the idea of vows as voluntary offerings that Israel was to bring before God per Numbers 29:39.  This is the view of Leviticus 7:16 where zevachim, or sacrifices, are understood to be nedarim, or vows, made to God.  Secondly, the same Talmudic tractate teaches that a vow is a bad thing to make (also see Shulchan Arukh, Yoreh De'ah, Siman 203). Not only is it because the wicked can also make vows, therefore possibly making vows to bad things, but according to Rabbi Meir even if it is a free-willing offering and therefore fulfilled, it is better that a person “does not take a vow at all” (BT Nedarim 9b).  In the end a vow is a “stumbling-block” because it is setting someone up for failure; what if it cannot be fulfilled for this reason or another? (Nedarim 10a).

The Talmud gives us the basis then for the Kol Nidre prayer of Yom Kippur, “All vows, etc. and oaths …,” because vows and oaths bring on sin and on Yom Kippur such sins are removed by the imagery of the Heavenly court.  But my intent here is not to write a theology about vows or oaths, per se, asking if we should or should not say them.  Vows should also not be seen as simply a vehicle of abstinence, but words of self-direction and conviction. We therefore read in a Midrash (Genesis Rabbah 70:1) about Jacob our forefather who made a vow that says, “Jacob was the first to utter a vow, therefore when one vows he should refer the vow to him [only]. Rabbi Abbahu said: "It is written, How he swore unto the Lord, and vowed unto the Mighty One of Jacob (Psalm 132:2). It does not say, the Mighty One of Abraham or Isaac, but unto the Mighty One of Jacob, thus referring the vow to him who was the first to give it utterance." What can we learn from this?

Vows and oaths are personal declarations or acts or actions that derive from a self-imposed or self-affirming choice.  We see this in Pirkei Avot 3:13 that speaks to the nature of a s’yag, or fence, thus “vows [are] a fence [s’yag] to abstinence.”  What we do not want to miss here is that the “vow” is the “fence,” so what is a fence?  At its core a fence keeps something in, keeps something out, or separates what does not belong together, even if they are both good.  According to Rashi, commenting on the Pirkei Avot text above, a vow (and/or oath) is a when a person “verbally makes a vow not to do something,” something that is aided by a self-built fence of that three-fold direction.  But again, is this about abstaining?  In Mishlei, or Proverbs, in chapter 15 we read "The tongue of the wise enhances knowledge, but the mouth of the fool pours out folly."  Likewise, borrowing from the Christian tradition it says, “Look also at ships: although they are so large and are driven by fierce winds, they are turned by a very small rudder wherever the pilot desires. Even so the tongue is a little member and boasts great things. See how great a forest a little fire kindles!” Also, from the same tradition it says, “With it [the tongue] we bless our God, and with it we curse people, who have been made in the image of Divine (Christian quotes from James 3).

So, if a “vow” is a “fence,” and a “fence” can be the use of our “tongue” per Mishlei, then we can understand the words of our initial verse that a person “must carry out all that has crossed [their] lips.”  But these words that come from one’s tongue and cross their lips are vows and oaths of goodness to do what is right just as much as they are to abstain from doing and/or saying what is bad that can harm both self and others. Vows and oaths benefit everyone, and are never about personal gain at another’s expense, although they have everything to do with the light of our personal growth.  The power of vows and oaths rests in the commitment and integrity of who is making them and for what, hence what we say to each other carries more power than we may think or internalize. Yesterday, today and tomorrow our words become our bond, and our tongues have the power to shape relationships, institutions and communities, starting with our very own.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Adam   

Parasha Pinchas, Ownership comes with Expectations: Numbers 25:10-30:1, Haftarah, 1 Kings 18:46-19:21

This week Israel is about to enter Canaan after their 40-year wilderness journey, camped just east of the Jordan river.  The parasha, called Pinchas, not only includes the story of Pinchas, the grandson of Aaron who would become the Kohen Gadol, but also another census regarding those who will enter Canaan as opposed to those who left Mt Sinai and claims of land ownership for each tribe, plus a final reminder of the Holiday calendar. In its essence the words of Pinchas, like the entire Torah, plays on the theme of community.

Therefore, as I was reading this parasha, in particular about the pre-distribution of the community land, I was reminded of a Tom Cruise movie called Far and Away. Here, Jospeh (Tom Cruise) comes to America from Ireland to one day own land in this new country, a dream he almost saw fulfilled at the very end of the movie.  In the very last scene, on horseback Joseph outpaces everybody and seeks to plant his claim flag in a particular piece of land, but a fight breaks out with Chase - who wants the same parcel of land - when Joseph’s horse falls on him and Joseph is sadly crushed. However, before Joseph dies in Shannon’s arms (his love), together hand in hand they drive the stake into the ground and claim their prize land together.

Joseph’s greatest desire was fulfilled, to own his own piece of land.  There was another family who wanted their dream to be fulfilled by inheriting their father’s land, those being the daughters of Zelophehad, simply because they believed that their very inheritance was given by the Divine hand of the God of their ancestors (Numbers 27:1ff).  According to the custom of their day only sons inherited from their father, so they brought their claim before Moses that for both sons and/or daughters an inheritance is an inheritance, something that our tradition recognized came from women of intelligence (Sifrei B’Midbar 113:4). In the end Moses is moved by the ways of God and relinquishes to the daughters of Zelophehad the land of their birthright, a Midrash teaching that if they are good enough to enter the land (that Moses was not going to) then they are good enough to inherent land as faithful members of Israel (Midrash Tanchuma, Behar 1:1).

Yet, to understand the motivation of the daughters of Zelophehad, there needs be a better comprehension of the nature of inheritance. Going back a few verses it says, “The land, moreover, is to be apportioned by lot; and the allotment shall be made according to the listings of their ancestral tribes. Each portion shall be assigned by lot, whether for larger or smaller groups” (Numbers 26:55-56).  The Talmud teaches that normal inheritances are when the dead leave something to the living, although in this case it’s the living who leave something for the dead (Bava Batra 117a).  The Gamora explains what that means.  For the living to leave something to the dead suggests that the inheritance for the inheritor is for the sake of the to those who went before – who are now dead - as opposed for the sole benefit of the one who received it - or the ones who are living (Bava Batra 117b).  But the Talmud asks was this division of land simply a by-chance lottery dictated by the wisdom of Israel’s leaders or was it in partnership with the design of God?

This was the case with the story of the spies when Joesph and Caleb embraced the land making the lottery “according to explicit designation by the Lord” (Bava Batra 122a, also see 118b about the spies).  This Jewish understanding is embraced by Rashi who further supports the view that the land observed by the spies was not just an inheritance from Israel’s ancestors alone but by the hand of Divine providence (Rashi on Numbers 26:55), with the Sfrono teaching that the distribution of the land based on the size of each tribe was “by the mouth of God” (Sfrono, also on Numbers 26:55), thus however you choose to understand that there is Divine providence involved.  But what of the Priests and the Levites?  In Numbers 26:62 it says of them that they “were not part of the regular counting of the Israelites, since no share (of the land) was assigned to them among the Israelites,” they totaled some 23,000. We recall that their inheritance was the Mishkan, taking ownership over the spiritual and ethical matters related to the community, not to mention the maintaining and transport of the Mishkan and its related materials and items. Yet again turning to Rashi he teaches that “to everyone shall his inheritance be given according to those that were numbered of them,” or what was their community deed and destiny. 
 
In closing, ownership is not just about a physical piece of land or property, but for Torah, where we place our claim flag like Joseph in Far and Away, is about an ideal or concept, a conviction or deep-seated value that is much more than what we see with our eyes but how we relate to the world in which we live.  We have been nurtured in a society that stands upon the model of consumerism, what is best for me, but that is not the model of Torah.  The Torah's model is one that says what is best for us is what is required of me (think Cain and Able) just as the us has a responsibility to the me.  Therefore, just as the inheritance of the land suggests that the inheritance for the inheritors is for the sake of those who went before them as opposed for the sole benefit of those who received it, what we inherit is in honor of what and whom went before us with an eye on tomorrow, thus the expectation of ownership.   

This is the lesson between Korach and Pinchas.  Pinchas took ownership of Israel’s covenant with God whereas Korach wanted what was best for him.  For the Torah ownership is a privilege that includes an obligation to better the whole and not a right that is self-serving; ownership of community (whatever your community may be) is the same, not always easy to do, but what Torah asks us to strive toward.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam