Parashat Sh'lach-Lecha, Numbers 13:1-15:41

This week’s portion, Shlach-Lecha (literally, “send over,” as in “send over people to Israel”) tells one of the most famous stories of the desert generation; indeed, a story that defines that generation - the story of the Twelve Spies.

The Story of the Spies

The story, in essence, can be summed up in the following way:  God instructs Moshe to send people to scope the Land of Canaan.  (This seemingly minor point – that it was God who instructed Moshe to send the spies rather than it was Moshe’s own idea – is quite important. More on that later.)  Moshe, in essence, sends an “all-star team” consisting of all the twelve tribal leaders. Among them are two that would become very famous later – Ye’ho’shu’a Ben Nun (also known as Joshua here), and Calev Ben Yefoo’nai (aka Caleb). Moshe does not satisfy himself with merely forming of the group, but provides them with a detailed framework of their spying mission: Where they should go, what should they look for (“Is the people sitting there strong or weak? Consisting of many or the few? And what is the nature of the country? Is it good or is it bad? Etc., etc., - Numbers 13:17-20).  He also instructs them to bring “from its fruit.” The narrator is kind enough to inform us that we are in the midst of grape harvest season (Num. 13:20).

The twelve spies were then sent on their way, and it took them 40 days to complete their mission (an important number, to which we shall return later). They do bring back grapes – hence the famous picture of two men carrying a huge cluster of grapes on a pole – as well as some other fruits. They also praise the Land as “flowing with milk and honey.” But then they come to the thrust of their report (and, interestingly, unlike most “spies-report” before and since, this one is issued in public, where the entire “we the people” may listen and respond):  “Alas, the people occupying in the Land is fierce, and the cities are as fortresses and very big, and we have also seen the offspring of the Giant.” (Num. 13:28).  This, understandably, upset the listening people to no end; Calev, in response, is required to “hush all the people,” and tells Moshe that “[despite all that] we could still do it”; or, in more modern parlance, “Yes we can.”  The rest of the spies, however, concluded differently: “No, we would not be able to come to this country, as the people there are stronger than us.” (Num. 13:31)

The rest of the story is well known: The people of Israel become incredibly upset – they weep the whole night and complain to Moshe and Aharon, demanding that they would return to Egypt; Calev and Jushua try to save the day, claiming this Land is “very, very good” (twice the text reads “very”) and begging the people to trust God. The people, in return, decide to stone them (nothing new here – just read some of the responses (called in Israel “talk-backs”) to the pieces published in the Israeli e-newspapers on the same Land today). God – not for the first time – has had enough; just like after the Golden Calf story, he confesses to Moshe on His wishes to destroy the people. Moshe pleads back – in one of the most moving and inspiring defense “closing arguments” ever heard (do read: Num. 14:13-19). God, in response (like any great Judge), decides to split the offer: While not killing all the people, He would “only” condemns them to wonder in the desert for 40 years – “as the number of days that you have wondered the Land; forty days – one day for each year” (Num. 14:34). In addition, God kills all of the spies – other than Calev and Joshua, of course – and then, to complete, kills (through the Amalekies, the eternal enemy of the Israelites) many other Israelis who dared challenge Him and climb to top of the local hill. End of story.

Lessons of the Story

The most obvious lesson of the story – as it is taught for years in Israeli schools, Sunday Schools, and otherwise – is that those who trust God are rewarded accordingly, and those who do not are punished accordingly.

Moreover, those who dare “libel” the Land of Canaan should be severely punished – by death, no less; while those who only sang its praises and describe its beauty and fertility will become the future leaders of the People of Israel.

So far, so good. Or is it?

As loyal readers of this blog may come to expect, some serious doubts may be raised regarding this narrative, in particular upon closer reading. First, it was neither Moshe’s nor the people’s idea to be sent as spies to Israel – God Himself gave the order. That, of course, leaves us scratching our heads: Why would God need to gather intelligence about the Promised Land? Is there anything He doesn’t know about it? “Of course not,” our religious friends would smile to us, knowingly, “He did not do that for Himself, He did it for the People – so they would know.” [Another option, according to which it was Moshe’s idea, but that he only invoked the highest authority possible to persuade the best-of-the-best to go, may not sound “religious” enough, so we can put it aside for the moment.] Let us assume, then, that this task was, in Lincoln’s famous words, “of the people, by the people, and for the people.” So what went wrong?

The people who were sent – not shrinking violets are they – felt a duty to report things “as they saw it.” This is the most sacred duty of every spy and reconnaissance unit person ever since: as someone who was trained to perform this very same task more than 3,000 years later, I can personally testify that the value of “truth in reporting” is the most basic – and sacred – value that special units are taught to keep from day one; even – and in particular – if the news we had were not good news, we had to report them as is. Indeed, in military circles, good news are often very suspicious; the spies – or the reconnaissance people – are expected to bring bad news, so that the generals in HQ would be able to properly prepare for the worst.

The ten spies, therefore, didn’t “libel” the Promised Land at all. They told the story as they saw it (which, to be sure, is also extremely logical). And the way they saw it was this: There is a Land, at the heart of the Middle East, surrounded by deserts, hostile nations, and rough weather. Yet the Land is awesome – it is fertile, it is lush with milk and honey, and it is beautiful. Not surprisingly, this piece of land is dutifully guarded – the cities are fortified, and the people are fierce. It would not be easy – if at all possible – to concur it from them.

Any of that sounds not familiar today, 3,000 years later? Maybe they were not so wrong after all…

Shabbat Shalom.

Doron

P.S - Following the spies, the blog, too, will venture out to visit the Land of Milk & Honey. It will resume in a couple of weeks. 

Parashat Be'Ha'a'lot'cha Num. 8:1-12-16

This week’s portion, Be’ha’a’lot’cha – literally, “when you raise” (here in the unusual use of “when you raise the candles against the Menorah”) – provides us with a rare opportunity to discuss, although in a nutshell, a fascinating topic: Did you ever wonder what was it like to travel in the desert for forty years? Welcome to this week’s portion. Everything is here - from “when they went” to “what they ate” – all is in the text. Accordingly, this week’s post would be a bit different: instead of commenting on two points appearing in the text, I use the more popular format of Q&A to explore everyday life in the desert.  For the readers who are interested in a less-religious commentary, I also offer one at the end of each answer.

Life in the Desert: Frequently Asked Questions

Q: Did they actually travel every day?

A: Not always, but in most cases they did. The organizing principle, of course was the following: “According to God the People of Israel would go, and according to God they shall make camp.” (Numbers 9:18; and again, 9:23).  At times, the divine cloud remained stable over camp for several days allowing them to rest from traveling. But generally speaking, that cloud resided over the Mishkan in the evening, and was lifted in the morning – signaling that it is time to travel during most days. In some cases, however, the Israelites travel at night as well. In other cases, they walked for three days straight.

Non Religious Explanation: Life in the desert is tough.  Different terrain, changing weather, and continuing issues with this enormously large traveling group (over 600,000 grown up men) require flexibility in moving arrangements. A good pattern is to move every day, and to rest during the night, but that pattern has to yield to the various needs and objective requirements. Hence the frequent variations. 

Q: Was there a special order of traveling?

A: Yes. First in the group was the tribe of Judah, with their military commander (Nachshon – a name and title that, until today, signals (in Hebrew) “he who dares to stand in front” – usually in the military context, such the he or she is ready to run first to battle, even in the face of enemy fire). Then two other tribes (Yissaschar and Zvuloun), with their commanders. Then the Mishkan  - always in front, but never exposed. Then the tribes of Re’uven, Shimon, and Gad. Then, separately from the Mishkan, the Kahaties – those in charge of actually erecting and dismantling the Mishkan each time the People made camp.  Then the other tribes. And then, at the very end – as sweep – the tribe of Dan and its commander. (Num. 10:11-28)

NRE: Clearly, considerations of safety and utility played an important role in devising the correct order of travel. Thus, back then (much like today), the strongest part of the army was always in the lead; this has been a winning strategy for the Israelis since those days and until today. The strategic placement of the Mishkan – at the top of the group, but not the very top, as well as the separation between the Mishkan and its workers, all guarantee a smooth operation and quick set-up and breakdown. Another great example of Moshe’s superior organizational skills at work.

Q: What did they eat?

A: Despite the widely-spread myth about the plentiful  “Manna from Heaven” and how well it was received, the Israelites never hesitated to complain at times about the narrow selection and its uniformed taste (nothing new here, either).  This week, their complaint is especially detailed (and visual, I may add): “[And the People] cried and said:  Who would provide us with meat? We all well remember the sea-food that we have eaten in Egypt for free, and the squash, the water melons, the leek, the onions, and the garlic; and now our soles are dried – there is nothing but the Manna in front of our eyes.” (Numbers 11:5-6).  In response, occasionally, Moshe would provide some other culinary choices, such as meat. But that, in turn, would create some issues of its own – widespread food poisoning, for example, or other issues. (See Numbers 11:33-34). 

NRE: Constant (purified) water and food supplies are by far the hardest part of the entire exodus operation. The great thing about the Manna was its freshness – every day the people would only get enough for the next day (except for Shabbat, when they collected for the entire weekend in advance). Those who dared to collect more were severely punished – sometimes by God, sometimes by a severe food poisoning. Every deviation from this strict diet had its consequences, but Moshe had to balance between his limited resources and the People’s complaints – so he provided them meat (and other options) every now and again, only to prove them, once again, that the Manna is really the only thing to come straight from Heaven.

Q: Was Moshe the only person in charge?

A: We know, from many portions ago (Yitro, Exodus 18:18), that Moshe could not handle his judicial power obligations all on his own. Thus, his father-in-law provided him with an advice to devise a well-structured legal system based on himself in the entire Supreme Court and others (adequate people – see the post there) as judges below him. But today, we learn that his executive powers, too, were hard to handle over a group of such size, and for that long a duration. After pleading with God (See Num. 11:12 for a wonderful text: “Did I conceive all this people?”), Moshe receives assistance in the form of 70 elderly wise men who help him in carrying his executive mission. Later, this number would form the basis for the famous Sanhedrin, a joint legislative-executive body of the small Jewish community in Israel. (Note that despite his hardships in the Article II and III issues – executive and judiciary branches – Moshe leaves to God (and himself, by delegation) the sole authority of legislation.)

NRE: Clearly, the model of a single leader as the only legislator, executive, and judge is unattainable; but it is interesting to note that the request for help comes from Moshe himself – not from the people (who doesn’t seem to mind) or from God (who is apparently content with channeling all three branches to one person). Empirically speaking, it seems, the separation of powers is not only a wise poly-sci choice (just ask Motesquieu and then the Founding Fathers, who read him closely), but also a necessary fact of life.

Q: What about the occasional catastrophe?

A: This week’s portion alone tells us the story of three emergencies/mini-catastrophes: First, a fire consumes part of the camp (Num. 11:1-3); second, as we noted earlier, a food poisoning leaves several casualties behind (Num. 11:33-34); and finally, a mysterious skin condition afflicts Miriam, Moshe’s sister, perhaps in response to a bizarre derogatory comment she made in relation to her sister-in-law, Moshe’s black-skinned wife. (Num. 12:1, 10)  All these – and naturally, many others – are issues Moshe had to contend with on a daily basis, with the help of God, of course.

NRE: I believe these incidents, deliberately reported and included in the text forever, are only the tip of the iceberg in terms of what Moshe had to deal with on a daily basis. With no medical facilities (or much knowledge, for that matter), no sanitation, harsh conditions, and a huge group of people who were never used to long-term camping, those occasional catastrophes were probably part and parcel of the 40-year desert expedition. The fact that Moshe successfully brought all of them to the Promised Land is a true testament to his fantastic leadership skills – not only from the religious perspective, but also – and perhaps primarily – from the pragmatic, day-to-day leadership perspective. Not for naught does this portion concludes with the following compliment:  “And the person Moshe is very humble – more than any other person on earth.” Indeed, we had a very humble leader then. I wish we had some more like him today.

Shabbat Shalom.

       

Doron

Parashat Nasso, Numbers 4:21-7:89

This week’s portion, Nasso – literally, an order to count (as in “go and count the people of Israel”) – is the longest of all portions of the week. Then again, it is also a great example of the rule that quantity does not necessarily yield quality. But enough about me.

The portion’s main issue – other than the continuing last week’s discussion of the census and its importance (see last week’s post) – is infidelity.  More accurately, a married woman’s alleged infidelity and its consequences. In looking at this issue I will venture, almost for the first time in this blog, to the very muddy waters (more in a second on this choice of words) of the Torah’s view of women. I am well aware of how dangerous this terrain may be, yet still I would like to offer my two cents. I begin with what – thankfully – has by now become a standard criticism of the text.  I then move to suggest a surprising possible justification of the ancient practice described in this week’s portion. I conclude with some general thoughts of the text and its relation to women.

I. The Water of Bitterness

To summarize – and I strongly recommend that you read this passage (Numbers 5:11-31) – this week’s portion deals with adultery; more specifically, it deals with a proposed solution to a situation where a woman has committed adultery, or, more accurately is alleged to have committed adultery (since no witnesses are available). The proposed solution, in a nutshell, is a test; it is the test of the “water of bitterness.” According with this test, the alleged adulterous woman has to drink this bitter water. Should she (physically) responds well to it – she’s safe; if she’s ill (as most people would be), then she’s guilty.

At first glance, the entire ceremony of the “the water of bitterness and curse” may be viewed as a typical (and unfavorable) biblical treatment of women. To begin with, the text does not even mention, let alone discusses, a situation in which the husband – not the wife – is suspected of cheating while the wife is “fraught with jealousy.” Not here. Instead, all we have is a situation where the woman is suspected of being disloyal to her husband, to “have gone astray and broken faith” with another man (nice, creative translation by JPS here) (Numbers 5:12).  What would a husband to do in this situation?

According to this week’s portion, the husband has to go to the priest - the religious authority (which, coincidently, comprises of all men – then and now, more than 2,000 years later). In a description reminiscent of the later “Salem witchcraft trials” and the famous “drowning test” –if the accused woman has drowned, she was innocent, but had she lived she was guilty of witchcraft – the text goes in great detail through what the poor suspected woman has to go through:

“And the priest made the woman stand before God, making her hair undone, and then he gave unto her hands [holy water (mixed with) the soil of the Tabernacle…  this water shall be known as] … the bitter, cursing water.  And the Priest swore that woman in, and told her: If no man has slept with you, and if you have not gone sinfully astray under you man, you shall be cleared by this water of bitterness and curse . . . [but if not,] your stomach would distend and your thighs will sag . . . and the woman would say: Amen and Amen.” (The full description, which is heavily edited here, may be found in Numbers 5:16-31).

Importantly, the text provides a nice alternative to the likely physical response the woman may have to the bitter water: if her stomach would not “distend,” then the suspected woman would be cleared of all suspicion, declared as “pure,” and even be “planted a seed” (become pregnant) (Numbers 5:28). [Loyal readers of this blog may look back at the discussion we had on the first verse of Parashat Tazri’a (Levit. 12:1), where, again, our sages has shown clear preference against naming a portion “A Woman”; there, too, the verse deals with the planted seed in the woman’ womb.] 

While the text provides no data, one may only venture to guess how many poor women could actually survive the test – which their husbands, again, had no need to take under similar circumstances – and be declared “pure.” To reiterate, this ritual is not dealing with the case of well-proved infidelity cases. Rather, we are dealing here with mere suspicions, rumors, and innuendoes; all we have in fact is “the wind of jealousy” by the husbands.

When I first read this text, I was appalled. To me, it represented everything that was wrong with the Torah’s treatment of women. It reminded me of my first class of Jewish Law in my final year at the Hebrew University Law School. By then, we were no longer viewing our professors with the same awe and revere that were the staple of our first year.  So when the Instructor opened the class by announcing that the Israeli Law of Equality of Women’s Rights – a mainly declaratory, though still important, act of legislation passed by Israeli Knesset very early in the life of the Jewish State – that this Act has “violated a delicate balance struck over thousands of years by Jewish sages with regards to women’s rights” I could no longer take this. “It is quite the opposite” – I told the instructor, shortly before leaving the class for good – “The State of Israel has corrected an imbalance that lasted through thousands of years with regards to the rights of Jewish women, due mostly to sages of Jewish thought who intentionally and creatively discriminated against women.”

That was how I felt when I read the text initially. 

II. Later Developments – in Halacha and Within Me

In part, it seems that my sense of reprehension was at least justified in part. During the Mishna period, the “Water of Bitterness” test was abolished. (3 Mishna, Sotah, Chapter 9 mishna 9).  The reason stated to this surprising state of affair may be more telling than  the act of abolition itself: “Mi’she’rabu Ha’me’na’a’fim” – when cases of infidelities became too many, there was no longer need for the test.  In other words, the deterring effect of the test was lost in the “sea” of infidelity incidences. But a careful reading of the text shows an even more interesting feature: the Mishna does not say: “Mi’she’rabu Ha’me’na’a’fot” – when the women infidelity cases became too many; but rather “when the infidelity cases [by all!] became too many” then the test was abolished. Here we have an initial recognition – very implicit, very hesitant, almost secret – in the fact that perhaps the initial test was wrong, as it applied to women alone. Perhaps not only women should have been accused of such an act. Perhaps men, too, are fallible.

But not only have our sages changed their mind. I did, too. I came to view the test in a different light. I realized that – at the time, and within that context – women required a great degree of protection from their jealous husbands.  That, sometimes, these women were in a state of clear and present danger to their very lives, just by virtue of being suspected of committing adultery. (Hmm… Is that really so different from today?) And that by providing the test – horrible as it may seem to us today – the Jewish religion has stepped forward to end this situation and to protect those women (clearly in a manner less than satisfactory, but still).  To be more specific, the notion that a priest – the prime religious authority – may absolve a woman of that cloud, in a final manner and with the blessings of God, is a huge step towards the protection of women’s right. [Moreover, as I was poring some sugar into my baby son’s bitter medicine – he is seek this week – I was thinking that maybe some thoughtful Priests pored some sugar into those bitter waters back then, to make it easier on the women.]  Again, I don’t know if any of this is true. I don’t know how many women, if any, were absolved by this test. But the very option granted by our religion to clear a woman from any unfaithful suspicion – with the authority of God, no less – should, in my mind, be looked upon favorably, even if the actual means used to effectuate this thought were inhumane by today’s standards. At least for that thought, the Torah’s text should be absolved.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron   

Parashat Ba'Midbar, Numbers 1:1-4:20

This week’s portion, Ba’Midbar (literally, in the desert) opens the penultimate book of the Pentateuch. It begins with an interestingly accurate time stamp – God speaks to Moses on the first day of the second month of the second year from the day they left Egypt – in other words, one year and one month, to the day, after the famous Exodus.

And what concerns God on that day? The exact number – or “Numbers” as the book is entitled in English – of the People of Israel.  In other words, God orders a census. And that brings me to a point I began talking about last week – that very little had changed between then and now.

The Census – Then & Now

Last year, during 2010 – much like during any other “decade” year – the federal government has held a census of the People of the United States, according to federal law.  To me, this latest census is strikingly similar to the first census ever taken – the one we read about this week in our Portion. Allow me to demonstrate.

           

i.                The term “People”; the exact number of which 

God orders Moshe to count the number of “people” of the Children of Israel. What does the term “people” encompass? Does it entail all people, men and women, adult and children, slaves and slaves owners? Not quite. The original biblical text refers to the term “people” as including only males (as opposed to males and females); only those who are over 20 years of age (as opposed to people of all ages); and only those who could bear arms (see Numbers 1:3). The original American Constitution’s notion of “person” was equally exclusive: In the period close to ratification, the constitutional term of “persons” was interpret to include only males (and not females); only “free” persons (as opposed to slaves); and mostly property and land owners (which excluded minors as well).

The number of those “people,” according to the biblical census, was precisely 603,550 (see Numbers 2:32).  This number is strikingly similar to the approximated number of people who left Egypt, according to the text, just a year earlier: “approximately 600,000 men, notwithstanding children.” (Exodus 12:37).

While this number is not similar in any way to the 310 million or so Americans living in the U.S. today, it certainly is identical to the number of people who conducted the census in America last year; or, in the words of the Census’ Director: “A Note to my 600,000 New Colleagues.” (available at http://blogs.census.gov/2010census/ ).

ii.              The Census’ Method

Today, just like the first biblical Census, the actual method of counting is based upon divisions. The entire group is divided into sections, or districts; those districts are divided further into lots; and those – into families. Each person conducting the count adds up to the grand total, which is received after accumulating a large group of data (in the U.S., a data gathered by 600,000 gatherers). The biblical text dedicates nearly an entire chapter – 46 verses, to be exact – to the accumulated data that led to the grand total; from which we may deduce the great importance accorded by the text to the census’ method (see Numbers 1:1-46). Indeed, it seems that the very method by which the census is conducted today is not very different, if at all, from the one used by the original biblical census. Indeed, this is probably one of the very few things that we do today precisely the way they were conducted thousands of years ago (and with the same amount of success, I may add).

iii.            The reason for conducting a census

Why a census? Today, we are all aware of the “formal” reasons – a proper allocation of federal grants and budget in a manner that is proportional (or number-dependent) to the amount of people in each state. Indeed, the census determines, to a large extent, the amount of dollars each state would receive to fund its education, police, infrastructure, and, in fact, almost anything that receives federal support. In addition, there are several other reasons why the census is important today (see “Why [The Census] Is Important?” http://2010.census.gov/2010census/why/index.php ).  Yet part of the reason so many people try to evade the census’ pollsters (and part of the reason the federal government had to recruit 600,000 strong to do the job) is that they fear additional knowledge would provide the government with additional of power – too much power, perhaps – than needed in order to govern over its citizens. Indeed, there’s a sense that knowledge is power, and absolutely accurate knowledge may lead to absolutely directed power. I would not like to dwell into this weak version of conspiracy theory, (“weak,” counter intuitively, because it does have some factual basis) but I would love to leave it to you to draw the proper analogy with the ancient ultimate pollster entity – and the reason He was interested in the exact number.

The Prophecy: Hypothetical, Not Actual

From the census – a scientific, data-oriented, fact-based, empirical experiment – we move this week into the world of moral philosophy – the untested, hypothetical, purposively inaccurate realm of biblical prophecy.

This week’s Haphtarah – Hosea 2:1 – begins with a statement that is quite contradictory to the subject-matter of this week’s portion: “And the number of the People of Israel has been like the sand of the sea, which cannot be measured or counted . . . [but God told them:] You are the children of the living God.” I will not dwell here on the heavier conundrum posed by the text – why would God have to wait until the Jewish People reached that nearly infinite number in order to break the good news to them (that they are the children of a living God), but instead concentrate on a much more mundane question:  Why does the portion text take so much pains to reach an accurate number, while the “prophecy version” insists on a number that neither countable nor measurable?

The answer to this seemingly trivial question is actually quite profound, and stands at the heart of the actual understanding the notion of Jewish prophecy (and for that matter, of all true prophets) over the years. And this true understanding can be summarized in the wonderful phrase – appearing originally in the Tosaphot (Yevamot 50, 71) and invoked countless times by Leibowitz – that “the prophet does not engage in prophecy but for the matters that are ought to be.” In other words, prophecy is not intended to describe the situation “as is” (descriptive), but rather intended to encourage certain desirable patterns of behavior (prescriptive). It tells us, in other words, in which direction we should go, not in which direction we are actually going. Indeed, for thousands of years many of the prophecies written into the text did not come true – an evidence, for many, that they were wrong (or that the prophets who made them were charlatans). But rather than seeing them as evidence of incompetence of the prophets, those unsubstantiated prophecies should only serve as evidence of our own incompetence – of our own inability to live up to their ideals. Still, those ideals are for us to reach, and they may always be there. And that, to a large extent, is the difference between the actual (census) and the hypothetical (prophecy). 

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron

Parashat Be'Chu'ko'tai, Leviticus 26:3 - End

This week we read the last portion of Leviticus, Be’chu’ko’tai (literally, “my laws,” as in “if you shall follow my laws…”). This portion is fascinating on many levels, and quite lengthy and elaborate at that. In this post, however, I would only comment on one aspect of this important portion. That aspect relates to one of central tenets of Judaism, indeed of every religion; in fact, this issue is perhaps the central notion around which the notion of religious concepts began to evolve. And the issue is that of “reward and punishment” (sa-char va-oe-nesh) – whey some people are condemned to suffer, despite being righteous, while others enjoy a happy life, despite being evil. To this day, this question divides philosophers, theologians, religious scholars, and people of all faiths. I will examine one important facet of this issue.

1. The Question Presented: Why Are Righteous People Being Punished?

In a nutshell, the question presented by our portion is this:  Why do some people – Jews, in particular – continue to be punished in this world despite following God’s commandments, while other people, who don’t follow God’s orders, seem to be handsomely rewarded. Put differently, why does the almighty God allow such a state of injustice to prevail in this world, instead of (properly) rewarding the righteous and punishing those who commit evil. This question was presented in its purest form during the most horrific genocide of all time, the terrible Holocaust of Europe’s Jews; it has never been answered satisfactorily since.

 One of the popular answers to this question – quite prevalent in many denominations of Christianity, as well as at the margins of Judaism – is that this world is merely a preparation (a corridor, to use the most oft-quote metaphor) to the hereafter, the next world; and it is there where the proper allocation of retribution – either reward or punishment – is being dealt fairly. This answer, which is convincing to some, is of course unexaminable and therefore irrefutable; in that sense, it is not very interesting. As Wittgenstein once wrote, at the end of his Tractatus, “things we cannot talk about should be passed over with silence.” (Para. 7) This is obviously true with regards to this argument, which may never be tested.  (Nevertheless, as I write these lines, on the evening of May 20, 2011, I am consistently confronted by rumors that the world is coming to an end tomorrow, or at most by the next day after that; if that were true, then we probably will be able to finally test the veracity of the “afterlife” theory that’s been offered for more than a millennia; that should be quite interesting….).

2. The Beginning of an Answer: The Jewish She’ma

Another answer, more nuanced, insightful, and challenging than the one offered by the “afterlife” argument is presented by the constituent text of the Jewish religion, the She’ma. “She’ma Israel, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad” – by far the most famous of Jewish texts, also presents a deeply philosophical argument. As demonstrated by Professor Yeshayahu Leibowitz on several instances (for an English version, see The Reading of Shema in Judaism, Human Values, and the Jewish State 37 (Harvard 1992)), the She’ma consists of two separate parts. The first part, which is presented as an absolute demand (or, in Kantian terms, as a categorical imperative), requires every Jewish person to love the Lord our God with all his or her heart, all of his soul, and all of his might. (And as Rabbi Akiva famously noted, “with all his soul – meaning even when they are taking away your soul (killing you) – you should still love Him.”) I would not dwell here on the beautiful issue of why the word love was chosen to portray the desired – nay, decreed(!) – relationship between the person of faith and God. I would just suggest that love is the greatest of human feelings, the strongest, the most expressive, and thus no other description of human emotion – and recall that the text is bound by existing words – could be chosen for the task.

The second part of the She’ma is framed as a conditional demand (or, in Kantian terms, a conditional imperative). It begins with the words “And if you shall hear [Me],” and promises a set of rewards for those who would follow the ways of the Lord. Among these are timely rain (a big issue in a desert land like Israel), plentiful of agricultural produce, and other material-nature rewards. [Importantly, Leibowitz teaches us here on the notions of “Lishma” and “Lo Lishma” (a faith for its own sake and that which is not for its own sake, but for an external gain; the first type of faith appears on the first part of the She’ma, while the second, much more prevalent form of faith, appears in the second part; I dealt with that distinction in previous posts and would not dwell on it here). The important point here, which is quite complicated, is that the reward in life comes inherently from the experience of standing before God. In other words, the reward does not await to the man of faith in the form of a more expensive watch, faster car, promotion at work, etc. The reward for the man of faith is being a man of faith, and that reward comes in many forms, shapes, and sizes; what is important, however, that those who truly stand before God during their lives cannot expect – and indeed, never expects – any other, or “better” reward.

As for the evil-doers who are plentifully rewarded in this world - that is a much more complicated an issue, to which I can provide no answer. My only suggestion here – which is neither scientific nor philosophical in nature – is that sometimes things are not actually as they seems to be. Take for example the 25-year successful marriage of Governor Schwarzeneger and his beautiful heiress of the Kennedy dynasty, Maria Schreiber. Just this week we learned that despite all the money, political power, social success, and any other material reward one may think of, their marriage were built on a sham and they had to break the partnership. Again, this is not a scientific observation (and, obviously, much poorer couples betray each other as well), but it may suggest that the notion of “earthly reward” is not as simple as we initially view it.     

3. The “Missing Part” of the She’ma

But for my purposes today, I would like to remark on what is missing from the She’ma.  The two sections (I omit, for a second, the third part of Ts’tsit) are extremely positive in nature: They mostly describe the good things that would happen to those who follow the laws of the Lord. In other words, they describe very little sanction, very little punishment, very little of the negative consequences that were to occur should one decides not to follow the word of the Lord.

And that part is supplied by today’s portion. And in droves.

The portion of “Be’Chukutai” begins with the now-familiar text of “If you shall follow my laws, and keep my decrees . . . then I shall provide your rain in time (etc., etc.)” – much like the second part of the She’ma.  But then the text moves onto a third part that expands greatly on the small section of negative consequences mentioned in the She’ma:

"But if you shall not listen to me, and shall not follow my decrees, and if you reject my rules and despise my laws . . . then I shall do the following onto you:… " 

Here the text provides a parade of horribles, including plagues, losing in wars, turning to enemy slaves, having no fruits from the ground, death of domestic animals, and so on and so forth, including being forced to eat the very flesh of your own sons and daughters. (Levit. 26:29).   

To me, that shows – once again – that not much has changed since the time the text was written. Yes, it is very nice to discuss categorical imperatives – doing things because they are right in and of themselves; or even doing something in anticipation of reaping the rewards – such as “if you will follow my laws, all the best will happen to you” (insert your favorite material possession here). But human nature is such that in most cases, nothing actually happens unless and until meaningful sanctions are put in place. And those sanctions, to be sure, must be such that would deter someone from doing the act.  Serious, meaningful sanctions (and in this case, perhaps even cruel and unusual sanctions) are what usually motivate us ever since our childhood in all areas of life; the area of faith should be, for most people at least, no different. And this is the role (well) played by our portion of the week. 

I would like to leave you with the following question, however: If this section is so important, so vital, so crucial to human behavior, why was it left outside the She’ma itself? If you were sitting today in the Knesset Gdolah (a religious legislative body that doesn't exist anymore), would you reintroduce this part of the text into the She'ma? Think about it during your restful Shabbat.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron

Parashat Be'har, Levit. 25:1-26:2.

This week’s portion, “Be’har” (literally, “on the mountain”) marks the penultimate portion of the third book in the series, Leviticus.  It contains the famous and important set of laws known as  “shmee’ta” – the innovative idea that every seventh year the land itself has to rest, much like we humans rest every seventh day.  It also contains other, more familiar religious laws such as the prohibition on the making of idols (Levit. 26:1) and the decree to keep the Shabat (26:2), among others.  To me, however, beyond those well-established rules, this week’s portion may serve as an excellent example for the relevance of the biblical text to our lives today; indeed, economic notions that we consider today as “cutting edge” – such as business cycles, great recession, and personal unemployment – were much in vogue back then as they are now. Allow me to demonstrate. 

On Business Cycles and Old Recessions

The modern theory of business cycle – the notion that markets operate in stages, notably four: (1) expansion; (2) crisis; (3) recession; and (iv) recovery – was only developed in the twentieth century by modern economists like Joseph Schumpeter.  Yet the idea that economic activity operate in cyclical waves, and that sometimes people find themselves riding on top or on the bottom of those waves, is as ancient as the markets themselves.

This week’s portion is famous for its detailed discussion of the laws of Sh’meeta, which I mentioned earlier – the careful consideration given to the ground, the main production factor at the time. In a limited sense, this is also a part of a business cycle, though this time – as opposed to a cycle created by market powers (real or manipulated) – this one is self-imposed. However, to me, the more interesting part of the portion relates to the very detailed account of what happens when people are suddenly affected by economic hardship. What happens, for example, when your relative was forced to sell a part of his land for economic hardship; when someone had to sell his lucrative dwelling home behind the protective walls of the city (the then-Upper East Side of Manhattan, so to speak); what happens to other dwelling homes that are sold, without a wall (insert your favorite not-so-well-to-do neighborhood here); what happens when your relative lost his job; and so on and so forth. (Levit. 25:25-55)

Though the laws themselves are fascinating – providing, in essence, a model for market-created social safety net, including the (now famous) restriction on usury loans – I am more interested here in the more general phenomenon of people who fell on hard economic times. What is the right manner in which society should treat those people? Is it “every man for himself”? Is it “socialism” (as it is often called here in America without sufficient basis), where the collective attempts to help those in need? The discussions of these issues more than 3,000 years ago – and the consideration of those issues as so pertinent as being considered a part of the holy cannon – prove to me that those issues were prevalent long before the Great Depression or the current economic crisis we are experiencing in America. The fascinating part, to me at least, is that the Jewish religion saw those issues as religious obligations, not merely as economic ones: Thus, the text mandates an obligation to treat those people with dignity, honor, and hope.  The message here is simple: You have to treat those people well today, because tomorrow you might be the one needing that kind of help. The debate today over the creation of a new consumer protection agency, as well as the idea of “private” bail-out – a direct government assistance to people in need – are but a faint echo of this comprehensive set of rules that was created, more than two thousand years ago, to properly deal with business cycles and their effect. Once again, we can be proud of our wise sages (or God, if you believe He is the author of the text) that identified a social issue and created a comprehensive way of dealing with it.

Indeed, ever since the bible was written and until today, the very idea of community-based economic assistance is one of the pillars of Jewish life. All over the world, as well as in Israel, Jewish communities are recruiting as one in time of economic turmoil to make sure that no member of the community would fall behind. To be sure, those assistance efforts are made with the understanding that the person in need would do everything they can to “get back on their feet” as soon as possible: no “welfare queens” here. But I think this arrangement, by which one (or more) member of the community is falling on hard times, the community as a whole is being recruited to help them, and then he or she returns as a productive member in the work cycle, should be not only a source of pride for the Jewish community, but also serve as a model to much larger economies in general – cities, states, and even federal.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron 

Parashat Emor, Leviticus 21:1-24:23

This week’s portion, Emor – literally, “tell” as in “tell all the priests to…” – is very unique, both to me personally and to every thinking Jew in the world. It is personally unique to me as this is my “bar Mitzvah” portion.  It is (or should be) unique to every thinking Jew as it fully presents the stark contrast between the written Torah text and the current Halachic custom. Not surprisingly, I will shortly elaborate on each of these points in my notes today.

I. Text vs. Halacha: When Does Rosh Ha’Shana Fall?

Suppose you had to pick just one portion to introduce to someone (perhaps yourself…) to all the major Jewish holidays. Emor is easily your pick. The portion is practically a “Lonely Planet to Jewish Holidays”:  Beginning with the somewhat dramatic statement “These are the Holidays of the Lord – Readings of holiness that you shall read in their due course” (Levit. 23:4), the portion goes on to describe in great detail each of the major holidays: Passover (23:5-8); The counting of the Omer (of which we are currently in the midst) (23:15-22); Rosh Ha’Shana (23:23-25); Yom Kippur (23:26-32); and Sukkot (23:33-44).     

I will not go here through the interesting details of each of these Torah-mandated holidays. What is important to me today are the dates: Passover, according to the explicit text, is to be celebrated “in the first month on the fourteenth day of the month.” But Passover is not celebrated today in the first month – Tishrei; it is rather celebrated on the month of Nissan, the seventh month of the year. Conversely, Yom Kippur, which is celebrated today on the tenth day of Tishrei – the very first month of the current Jewish calendar – is to be celebrated, according to the explicit text, “on the tenth day of the Seventh month.” More importantly, between these two important holidays lies yet another holiday, in the beginning of that seventh month, in which the text requires to cease all work.  Today this holiday is called “Rosh Ha’Shana” – the beginning of the year (or, more simply, “New Year’s”) – a name, by the way, that can be found nowhere in our portion (or anywhere else in the bible, for that matter).  But how can we celebrate the beginning of the year on the seventh month? In particular, how can the year begin not in the first month as is specifically prescribed by the text itself? Have we been wrong all these years? Should we move Rosh Ha’Shana to Passover?

In a way – a textual way – we have been wrong.  The term Rosh Ha’Shana (New Year’s) does not appear in the text. The holiday – today reserved for the beginning of the year – is not designated as such by the text. Moreover, the first month of the year is not up in the air. According to the text, the month in which the Israelites left Egypt – Nissan, the month of Passover (of course) – is the first month of the year. So what is going on here?

Halacha O’keret Mikra – the Halacha overrides the biblical text – this is what. This week marks one of the most explicit cases where the customs devised by our sages stand in stark contrast to the biblical text itself – and win.  Today, we receive these Halachic commands as a binding (Jewish) law.  But you don’t have to be Justice Scalia – who can’t stand a law that has no strong textual basis – in order to pose a penetrating question: What is the basis of that? Who are those sages – and who appointed them – to overrule (or override) an explicit biblical text?

I am not able to answer these questions here. I am, however, able to suggest that an acceptance of such Halachic override may have far-reaching consequences both in terms of understanding what are the real sources of Jewish law, and, more profoundly, what does it mean to accept the “yoke of Torah and Mitzvot” – to accept Jewish law as a person of faith.  Time to move on.

II. My Bar-Mitzvah's Haftara

It has been long ago – way too long, precisely three decades – since I stood in the then-new synagogue next to my parents’ home in Ramat Aviv (a small Tel-Ave suburb), very nervous and anxious, preparing to perform my first (and so far only) public Haftara.  We just welcomed, four months earlier, a wonderful addition to our family – my younger brother Uri; I was so proud to carry him on my arms into shul. I will never know how I really did that day (in terms of proper reading). Everyone, of course, sang my praises to my face, telling me I did great. Then again, what would you tell a young Bar-Mitzvah boy who just finished his readings (for which he prepared for months)? That he did horribly? That he was barely understood, or heard? Indeed, even in Israel – the “tell-it-as-it-is-and-in-your-face” country – we have our limits. Bar Mitvah is certainly one of those.

I have been to many Bar Mitzvahs before and since, but every year I love to come back to my own Haftara – by the Prophet Ezekiel, of course (Ez. 44:15-31). Initially I was disappointed to read the text – it seems to deal with issues of lesser importance, such as the type of cloths the priests should wear on their way to serve God.

But then it hit me, several years later, that this text must mean much more than that. And indeed, thanks to my own “Rabbi,” Yeshayahu Leibovitz, I grew to understand that the text has profound – and indeed very relevant modern-day— implications. In essence, it requires the priests and Levites, when they enter into the “inner” sanctum, the holy of holiest places, to wear special (and very specific) clothes. But when they go back outside, “to the masses” as the text puts it, these same servants of God should again wear their regular clothes “and they shall not consecrate the people in their [special] clothes.” Why would the priests wear special clothes when no one can see them, but regular clothes when everyone can? The answer implies a fundamental principle of religious leadership adhered to, unfortunately, by only a few religious leaders today (in all religions equally, by the way): The principle that a religious leader is unique only to the extent that he serves God; in all other measures and respects he should act – and therefore appears like – any other person.

But none of the religious leaders I know today – from the Pope to the Chief Rabbis to major Mullahs – would sacrifice their uniquely-looking garbs (or robes) for the “regular clothes” of the people. They rightly fear that “the people” would quickly reveal that, behind those gilded quilts, they may not be so different from any of us…

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron