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         

Parasha Chukat-Balak, The Times They are a Changing: Numbers 19:1-25:9, Haftarah, Micah 5:6-6-8

This week we have a double parasha, Chukat-Balak, a parasha where rebellion remains a continued theme unfortunately.  In this case we read about the rebellion of the people over their fear of running out of water and food, with some even saying that Moses also rebelled against God regarding the water from the rock. Chukat ends with Israel having victorious battles with three different kings who are not amenable to allowing Israel passage through their territory before Israel would come to the Kingdom of Moab who also feared Israel. The king, named Balak, employees a prophet named Balaam to render a curse upon Israel as they approach. It is here we encounter the story of a donkey, who Balaam rides upon, who speaks to Balaam that in the end instead of a curse would yield a familiar blessing, which says, “How lovely are your tents, O Jacob, Your dwellings, O Israel!”

What about this Donkey, who like the snake in Genesis, speaks with Balaam?  Prior to answering that question I’d like to tell you a story about a donkey who also spoke named Albert.  In a small village nestled at the foot of a majestic mountain, there lived a peculiar creature—a talking ass, named Albert. Unlike ordinary donkeys, Albert possessed the extraordinary ability to speak and reason. The villagers were both bewildered and intrigued by this exceptional animal. Albert's eloquent and witty remarks made him the talk of the town. People from far and wide would travel to hear him share his wisdom and engage in thought-provoking conversations. His clever insights on various matters brought laughter, inspiration, and sometimes even a change of heart to those who listened.

As Albert grew older, he began to feel a deep sense of purpose. He realized that his gift of speech could be used to uplift others, spreading joy and knowledge throughout the village and beyond. With every word he uttered, Albert aimed to instill kindness, compassion, and understanding in the hearts of his listeners. News of Albert's enchanting gift spread across the kingdom, reaching the ears of a wise and benevolent king. Intrigued by the tales, the king invited Albert to his grand palace, seeking the donkey's wisdom to aid in his ruling decisions. Albert, honored by the king's invitation, accepted with grace and set off on a journey to the royal court. Along the way, he encountered numerous challenges, but his quick wit and unwavering determination helped him overcome every obstacle.

Arriving at the palace, Albert was welcomed with great reverence. The king, eager to engage in discussions with the extraordinary donkey, sought his advice on matters of governance, justice, and diplomacy. Albert's insights proved invaluable, and the kingdom flourished under the wise counsel of this humble, talking ass. As the years passed, Albert's influence continued to grow. His fame transcended borders, and people from distant lands sought his wisdom. The world began to recognize the extraordinary potential that exists within every being, regardless of their outward appearance or origin.

Albert's tale spread far and wide, inspiring generations to embrace the power of empathy, understanding, and the importance of listening to diverse voices. The talking ass became a symbol of unity, breaking down barriers and bridging divides among people from all walks of life. And so, the legend of Albert, the talking ass, lived on as a reminder that sometimes, the most profound wisdom can emerge from the unlikeliest of sources. His story became a testament to the beauty of uniqueness, proving that a kind heart and a wise mind can change the world, no matter the form they inhabit. This is what the Donkey who spoke to Balaam did, it broke down the walls of hate and anger with blessing and renewal instead, it brought a new and fresh voice into the situation at hand that in the end would be a blessing to Israel on their travels.  But lets contrast this briefly with the story of Moses being barred from entering the land because he struck the rock with his staff instead of speaking to it in order to produce water for the people.

Although we are not told why this isolated incident received such an unfair punishment, we know that Moses after leading the people for 40 years, would not be able to enter the promised land.  Jewish tradition says this may be because Moses lacked trust in God (Yalkut Shimoni), depending on his own might instead of the Lord's (Yalkut Me’am), perhaps it may have to do with Aaron's sin of the golden calf as well as Moses' failure to unify the spies (Numbers Rabbah 19:9), all unknowns of coure.  The Torah, A Modern Commentary, offers an intriguing view.  In this case they simply grew old and tired, Moses and Aaron could no longer fight for the people and/or God the way they once did, the Psalmist writes, “They provoked wrath at the waters of Meribah, and Moses suffered on their account, because they embittered his spirit and he spoke rashly,” reflecting a fed up and broken Moses, but it was more than that. The upshot was simple: what happened with Moses and Aaron was an indication that the new generation who would enter the land simply needed a new vision and a new voice, it was time for a change.

Balaam’s donkey, like Albert in our story above, represented something new, something different, something that was not like before to indicate a new beginning was ahead, making what was bad into to everyone's good.  Does what we fight for create something new, or is it for a past glory that simply needs to change? 

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam

Parasha Korach, Dispute or Discussion - it Cant be both; Numbers 16:1-18:, Haftarah, 1 Samuel 11:14-12:22

After a two week break I returned to one of the more provocative parshiyot, Korach.  Before the final "real" departure from Sinai back in B'haalot'cha Moses sought to unify the community because he knew that the differences would lead to unfortunate outcomes. We see rebellion after rebellion that began last week with the spies and continues from there, this week being no different either with Koarch himself or the people who tired of manna and wanted meat.  This is why our Rabbis selected 1^st Samuel 11-12 as the haftarah.  The community wanted a king because everyone else had one, and while not a bad thing, it also meant they would have to own its consequences.  In this case the king who was elected yielded bad results for Israel and another had to be chosen.  In this week’s parasha we have the makings of a political insurrection that follows on the heals of a community mutiny because the right guy went about it the wrong way.

This week we meet Korach, who was a Levite from the family of  the Kohathites who took care of the sacred objects in the Mishkan, who calls our Moses and his brother, Aaron, which is why the Talmud (Sanhedrin 110a) suggests it was also about nepotism.  In this case Korach felt that they abused their power and horded it over the community, thus speaking on the behalf of others Korach says to Moses and Aaron, “You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and the Lord is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above the Lord’s congregation?” In response Moses counters with “Is it not enough for you that the God of Israel has set you apart from the community of Israel and given you direct access, to perform the duties of the Lord’s Tabernacle and to minister to the community and serve them?”

Each had a role; Moses had oversight for the community, Aaron was the High Priest, haKohen haGadol,  and Korach was the leader of the Levitical family the Kohathites as part of Israel’s polity, all three men played very important, and sacred roles, in the life of Israel. Still, Korach was not completely wrong either, “For all the community are holy, all of them,” basing that upon the words of Exodus 19:6 that the entire nation was “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.”  I actually do not think Moses would have had any issue with that whatsoever, recalling the words from Numbers 11:29 that said, “Would that all the Lords people were prophets, that the Lord put [the divine] spirit upon them!”  But was it simply a matter of Korach wanting to be Moses, or if not Moses per se he wanted the perceived power of Moses?  Or was it a matter of perception about how the direction of Israel should have a new administration?

Korach was not alone, represented by Dathan and Abiram of the non-Levitical tribe of Reuven (Numbers 16:12), who in opposition stood up to Moses and Aaron and the rest of Israel who sided with them.  In the end there is a huge earthquake that caused the ground to open and swallow up Koarch and his followers, the writers of Numbers, like many today, read that as a direct judgement by God against those who came against Israel's chosen leaders.  Yet here what we really have is the Left against the Right or visa versa, so to speak, two ideologies that fought to exist simultaneously; sound familiar?  Regardless, turning to the Talmud (Sanhedrin 110a) once more we read concerning Korach, “Rav says: Anyone who perpetuates a dispute violates a prohibition, as it is stated: ‘And he will not be like Korach and his assembly.’” So the word for “dispute,” machloket can also mean “discussion,” but it needs to be read in context.  In this case the Talmud used machloket as a divisive dispute that was perpetrated by Korach who accused Moses of unfair leadership practices with the attitude of “my way or the highway,” creating a lose-lose in the end.  In short a machloket with the attitude of Korach created a divisive dispute instead of a platform for resolution.

The Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, taught that divisiveness and true communal harmony are actually very similar; they are birthed from human desire.  The conflict is part of the lower world and the harmony is part of the upper world, or the sefirot of Malchut as opposed to Keter. So while we physically live in a world that is in need of repair (Malchut) the human spirit is to be connected with the spiritual (Keter) to guide our actions, hence the connection between divisiveness and true communal harmony.  Korach forgot that while the Kohen Gadol is wholly devoted to spiritual pursuits and "ordinary" Israelite's must contend with the mundanity of regular life, he and his followers failed to see there was anything mundane about the mundane, taking away the holiness within the ordinary.

Korach lost sight of what he claimed he fought for, actually going against his own argument, “For all the community are holy, all of them, and the Lord is in their midst.”  If that was so, he (and others) were just as holy, as opposed to thinking that true holiness came only in what Moses did.  Torah looks to remind us that everything we do from the mundane to the sacred are equal because they are done with a sense of the holy, something that asks us to look beyond our own sense of right to walk with another who may have a different view of the same. Sure that is not easy and yeah we have extreme views that we cannot tolerate, but we are being asked to mange that, or how else can we be a community of diverse people?  Conflict will happen, we all know that, but it must be in light of discussion, machloket, or it just becomes divisive disputes that leave us worse off than we began.  More food for thought from Torah.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Adam