Parashat Ekev (Sh'ma), Deut. 7:13-12:25

This week’s portion, Ekev – litereally, “because of” – is the direct continuance of last week’s portion, which introduced us to the first part of the “Sh’ma” (btw - not “Shema,” as all English translations insist upon, for no good reason). Today’s portion introduces us to the second part of the sh’ma, and allows me to dedicate my entire post to this magnificent prayer.  My discussion, however, would not be original; I am only bringing the words of Leibovitz (from his article: On the Reading of Sh’ma, in Judaism, Human Values, and the Jewish State 39 (Harvard, 1992); this is a wonderful article, which begins with the ever-so Leibovitzian statement: “I know of no ways to faith other than faith itself.”) Leibovitz, in turn, claims also to say nothing new – he relies on the Rambam (Maimonides). And so on and so forth.  Obviously, in the short space I have here I will provide only a glimpse, a taste of the many things that can be said on this very unique text. In fact, today I will only dwell on one word, and one word alone, appearing in it. But let us begin with what is really important – the text of the Sh’ma.  

The Sh’ma is Judaism’s most important text. It also its most sacred text. In fact, it is nothing short of Judaism’s defining text. The Mishna opens with it. (“From what time may one recite Sh’ma?”  (Tractat Be’rachot A (a), Z’raim)) Throughout history, many a Jew had recited it – of their free will – as their last words, under the most horrific of circumstances. Every practicing Jew still states the text twice a day, every single day of their adult life.

And yet, to many – most? – Jews worldwide, this fundamental text is not well known at all. This incredible document of Jewish heritage is no longer a part of every Jew’s vocabulary. Let us, then, introduce it back to the readers; and then comment on only one word in it.

The Text of Sh’ma Israel

Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. (Sh’ma Israel, Adonai Elo’hei’cha, Adonai Echad).

And You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might. And these words which I command you today shall be upon your heart. You shall teach them thoroughly to your children, and you shall speak of them when you sit in your house and when you walk on the road, when you lie down and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign upon your hand, and they shall be for a reminder between your eyes. And you shall write them upon the doorposts of your house and upon your gates.

And if you shall hear and adhere to My commandments which I enjoin upon you this day, to love the Lord your God and to serve Him with all your heart and with all your soul, I will give rain for your land at the proper time, the early rain and the late rain, and you will gather in your grain, your wine and your oil. And I will give grass in your fields for your cattle, and you will eat and be sated. Take care lest your heart be lured away, and you turn astray and worship alien gods and bow down to them. For then the Lord's wrath will flare up against you, and He will close the heavens so that there will be no rain and the earth will not yield its produce, and you will swiftly perish from the good land which the Lord gives you. Therefore, place these words of Mine upon your heart and upon your soul, and bind them for a sign on your hand, and they shall be for a reminder between your eyes. You shall teach them to your children, to speak of them when you sit in your house and when you walk on the road, when you lie down and when you rise. And you shall inscribe them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates - so that your days and the days of your children may be prolonged on the land which the Lord swore to your fathers to give to them for as long as the heavens are above the earth.

The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the children of Israel and tell them to make for themselves fringes on the corners of their garments throughout their generations, and to attach a thread of blue on the fringe of each corner. They shall be to you as tzizit, and you shall look upon them and remember all the commandments of the Lord and fulfill them, and you will not follow after your heart and after your eyes by which you go astray - so that you may remember and fulfill all My commandments and be holy to your God. I am the Lord your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt to be your God; I, the Lord, am your God. True.

The “Love” of Sh’ma

After the ceremonial introductory sentence – constituting the notion of one God, which is our God, and calling upon Him to listen to us (a sentence upon which alone dissertations have been written) – the Sh’ma begins with an order, a decree to love; and not to love just anyone, but to love God. And, as the decree goes, this is no ordinary love – that every Jew is ordered to perform – but the ultimate love: “with all your heart, and all your sole, and all your might.” Indeed, as Rabbi Akiva is famous for saying: “With all thy sole, meaning even when they have taken away your sole you would still love Him.” Unfortunately, this wonderful statement has turned into horrific fact too many times throughout our history, beginning with Rabbi Akiva himself (who was executed by the Romans with iron flesh-combs).

            Of the many enormous questions raised by this particular word-choice – to love your God – I will (very superficially) look at two: Why was love chosen over all other possible relations with God; and what does love mean in this particular context.

            Why “Love”?

            One would expect – after reading almost the entire Five Books of Moses – to find a completely separate title to describe the desired relationships between every Jewish person and their God: “fear” (“And you shall fear the Lord your God”), “obey” (“And you shall obey the Lord your God”), “abide by,” “acknowledge the greatness of,” or, perhaps most obviously – “believe in” (“And you shall believe in the Lord your God.”). Of all the stories we have read, the demand from the Israelite was never to love their God but to follow Him (while abandoning all other Gods, to be sure). So why the “love” of all a sudden? Where did this requirement come from?    

The answer is at once surprising and very obvious: When the Torah text came to describe the desired relations between a Jewish person and their God, it was obviously bound by the limits of words – there is no way to describe such relations without words. And within those boundaries – within words – what is the strongest feeling a person could ever feel? What is the word that would signify, more than any other, the desired relationship between a person and his God? The answer is clear: It must be love. While this is no “ordinary” love (on that in a minute), this is the strongest, most experimental, most tantalizing feeling every person is capable of. And that’s the type of feelings they must – ordered to! – feel in relation to their God. “Take your biggest emotional commitment” the Torah tells us “and apply it to your relationship with God.” That is why love – and not any other feeling or condition – was selected to describe the desired relationship with God.

What is”to love” your God?

We all love. Most people love themselves (and politicians, they say, love themselves more than anyone else). Almost all love their children, if they are blessed with having them, and their families. But we also love money, and whatever it is it may buy for us – fast cars , expensive watches, “shopping,” etc.; we love vacations; we love to fall in love with other people… In short, we love many things. Which of these feelings, if at all, depict the “love” that we are ordered to perform vis-à-vis our God? Should we love Him the way we love ourselves? The way we love our new home? The way we  loved our recent vacation? 

Leibovitz – following the Rambam – has a very clear answer here: No. The word “love,” recall, was only used as a gap filler – “The Torah spoke in the language of humans” – there is not other word that may better describe this elated condition. But its concrete meaning here, argues Leibovitz is written to us in plain detail: “The unintelligible verse “and you shall love the Lord your God” is elucidated through its sequel: “And these words which I command you this day should be in your heart.” The acceptance of the yoke of Torah and Mitzvoth is [in and of itself] the love of God, and it is [also] this that constitutes faith in God.” (id., at 44)

But here is also where Leibovitz and I part ways: While his interpretation is completely plausible – it is probably more “correct” in terms of Halacha – I would like to adopt a more romantic, independent, and somewhat anarchistic notion of the content of “love” for God. In my mind, while we all love – as we have said before – we also all love differently. While everyone who is reading these lines has uttered (and hopefully heard) the words “I love you” to someone else, each person felt, and meant, different things by saying these exact same words. My thought is that the Torah chose “love,” indeed, to denote the highest level of feelings each of us may reach – and that is the level, and power, of feelings we should be aiming at God. But as to the content of those feelings – in my mind – the Torah gave us complete freedom; everyone may love as they see fit, as long as they truly love (nothing short of that) their God. And just like you know that you love someone else, you feel it, it is burning within you – so you will know you truly love your God. This is an internal process; you don’t need to demonstrate or report it in any way. True, the performing of the Mitzvoth would be a great way to share that love with the world – to notify everyone that you do love your God; but just like with marriage – which is an announcement to the whole world on love – it is very desirable notion, but not a necessary precondition for the feeling of love. You are free to love any way you choose, as long as you truly love.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron 

Parashat Ve'Etcha'nen Det. 3:23 - 7:11

This week’s portion – Va’etcha’nen (literally “and I shall beg,” as in Moshe’s plea to God to spare his life and allow to enter the Promised Land (a request we all know the answer to)) – is one of the biggest. Indeed, after several weeks of “digging deep” into the text in the hope to find some nuggets, this week’s portion contains two of the founding texts of all of Judaism since days immemorial: The Ten Commandment (the second time around), and the Shma (part one). To top that, the portion also contains important sections of the Hagada (read in Passover), and the wonderful argument between Moshe and God relating to Moshe’s punishment.

What, then, should I pick? While leaving the Shma for next week (when part two is in store), I will comment today on the Ten Commandments, but not in the traditional sense. That traditional sense, naturally, focuses on the several slight differences between Version 1 of the Commandments (Comm. 1.0, Exodus 20:1), and Version 2 (Comm. 2.0, Deut. 5:6). But today I would like to examine a different issue that may shed light more generally on the biblical text as a whole, as well as – to a lesser extent – on the philosophy of this blog.

On the Second Coming of the Second Commandment

As most – if not all – readers of this blog know, over the years the biblical text was reviewed by thousands of Jewish sages, and their commentaries – such as Rashi’s, Eben Ezra’s, Rambam, Ramban, and many others – are still regarded today as the authoritative interpretation of the text.  Beyond that, most orthodox students focus more on the teachings of Oral Torah – the Mishna and the G’mara, which together form the Talmud.  Accordingly, a typical notes on the Portion of the Week from an orthodox Rabbi (or a student Rabbi) will almost invariably include some “authoritative” interpretation bits, some Talmudic sayings, and perhaps some original thought. But it would mostly include very little of the text itself. That has not been the approach of this Blog. The idea here was that the text should be conveyed to the readers “as is,” without any ancient (or modern) intermediaries. Indeed, the biblical text itself contains so much beauty, so much richness, so much meaning all on its own, that it does not need – definitely not during the “first date” with the readers – any supplements to impress [a mistake often committed by many a participant of first dates, and not only in this context].

Today’s portion provides a great example of the assertion that the text itself may be its own best interpreter.  Thus, the Second Commandment reads, in relevant part:

You shall not make for yourself a sculpture (or) any picture in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below. (Deut. 5:8)

Now, what is the meaning of this command? Why is it rank so high on the ladder of our most sacred values, second only to “I am the Lord your God,” which Leibovitz considers as containing the entire Torah?

There are, of course, some obvious answers. The making of idols was seen the concretization of the first, more theoretic commandment, forbidding generally to have “other God over me.”  But there is more, much more to that. And unlike the first appearance of the commandments, three books ago, here Moshe provides a very comprehensive picture of the restriction; in fact, he paints the entire relationship of God and the People of Israel as a reflection – pardon the pun – of the prohibition on making any picture. Though you may read for yourself (and enjoy) starting at Deut. 4:11, here’s a summary of the argument:

-          While the People of Israel approached the Mountain to receive the Ten Commandments, God spoke to the people – so the people heard the voices but could not see the image…

-          And the People of Israel were ordered to be very careful, for they have not seen the image on the day God has spoken to them from the fire …

-          And the People of Israel were warned not to be corrupt – to start making any sculpture or picture of anything on earth, in the sky, or beneath the waters ….

-          Beware of forgetting the Covenant you have with your God, by making sculpture and pictures against His express commands …

-          When your first generation of sons is being born, and then the second, beware of then being corrupted by creating the sculptures and pictures – an evil in the eyes of God…    

  

Thus, if you only want, you could find it all in there: “Hafoch ba ve’Hafoch ba, dechula ba” – turn it around and turn it around – it’s all in there, said the Sages. If you would only read the text, the beauty will come out all on its own.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron 

Parashat Dvarim, Deuteronomy 1:1-3:22

Today we begin the last book of the Chumash, the Five Books of Moses.  The beginning of the end, if you will.  Indeed, feeling that the end is near, Moshe starts this last book – D’varim, in Hebrew (meaning “the things,” or “the statements”), or Deuteronomy in English (“second law of the Torah, Mishne Torah) – with a summary of all that has happened in the past forty years: what have we done, where did we go, what have we achieved, what is still in need of repair.

For those who read the portions so far, therefore, this portion does not reveal much; and indeed, most commentators tend to virtually ignore it, emphasizing, instead, the fact that it is read in the Shabbat prior to Tisha’h Be’Av (the Ninth Day of the month of Av), the “saddest day in the Jewish calendar,” in which both Temples, according with the Halacha, were destroyed.  From there those commentators proceed to discuss the day and its meaning, but not to dwell much on the portion itself.

But the portion – put under a magnifying glass, admittedly – does produce some gems. I want to focus on two today – one from the portion itself, and one from the Haftara.

The Legal Systems and Rewriting History

As you may recall, back in the day (Exodus, 18:14) we read on Yitro, Moshe’s father-in-law, who came to visit him and was dumbfounded by the fact that Moshe alone deals with all legal matters, small and large.

“And Moshe’s father-in-law saw all that Moshe is doing to the people, and he said: What is that which you do to the people; why would you sit all alone and all the people stand upon you from morning to night … [And Yitro said:] Not good is that thing that you do; you shall wither away, and so would the people, as this task is too heavy for you – you may not do it on your own. Now listen to my advice – I shall advise you and God shall be with you…”

Yitro then provided his famous “advice” to Moshe – to nominate lower courts, intermediate courts, even supreme courts, and only then to bring the most serious challenges personally to him, to Moshe (see last portion and the story of Zlophchad’s daughters as an example). And Moshe complies: “And Moshe heeded his father-in-law’s advice, and Moshe has done all that [Yitro] said.” (Ex. 18:24)   

I have quoted in length from Yitro’s speech, as this story – the creation of a multi-layered, fully functioning legal system – takes center stage in Moshe’s summary in today’s portion. Yet, astonishingly, both Yitro’s name and contribution are completely missing from the story, as if he had nothing to do with the creation of this judiciary system. Instead, the summary goes something along the following lines: Moshe tells, in the first person, about his experience with the people. You, he explains, became too many, “as many as the stars in the sky.” (Deut. 1:10) I (Moshe) therefore couldn’t handle all of you anymore, and so I have asked that you nominate political leaders to each of your tribe – a move you have all agreed too; I have also (claims Moshe) devised this hierarchical systems of judges – from the smallest matters to the largest – and have asked them to resolve all cases and controversies between you.

So, copyright on this McKinsey-scale advice aside, why did Moshe completely ignore the (major) role played by his father-in-law in this story? The simple answer – this is just another example of re-writing history after the fact (a practice copied, and then perfected, by leaders of all stripes in the thousands of years since) – is especially troubling in this case. This book is called “Mishne Torah” – it should serve as the summary of everything that has happened prior. Every first-year practicing lawyer knows that if his Closing Arguments would misrepresent the facts as were revealed during trial, the judge may disqualify his argument (or even call for a mistrial, in extreme cases).  Why would Moshe want to recreate history in this way?

But something good does come out of this second version of the story. Moshe takes this opportunity not only to rewrite history (again, it’s “his-story”), but also to improve upon it (another practice emulated by many a leader since).  Here he provides a short essay on legal philosophy, which is extremely important, though not necessarily grounded in fact. Moshe claims that he has instructed the judges he nominated  (nothing like this appears in the original version) as follows:

Hear out your fellow men and brethrens, you shall judge justly between a men and his fellow Israelite, and a men and his gentile. You shall not partial in judgment, one law you shall have; you shall listen to the small people as you have to the large; you shall fear no one, because the judgment is for God. And those matters that are too hard for you, you shall bring those to me and I shall hear it. (Deut. 1:16-18)

These always-timely principles should guide us, our lawyers, and our judges, even today.

The Beauty of the Text

Today Haftora, the beginning of the Book of Isaiah, may remind many readers one of the main reasons for the Bible being the biggest best-seller of all times: It is simply written beautifully.  The text is truly sublime. 

Thus, many years after the Bible was written, we find William Shakespeare (a noted bible scholar, as you all aware) putting these iconic words in the mouth of Mark Anthony in Julius Caesar: “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them. The good is oft interred with their bones. So let it be with Caesar.”

Long before that, we find a humble prophet, Isaiah, who begins the Book carrying his name with a stunningly similar tone:

Hear O heavens, and give ear O eath, For the Lord has spoken:

“Children I have raised and cherished, and they have sinned against me,”

An ox knows its owner, and an Ass his master’s crib;

[But] Israel refuses to know; my people refuses to observe.”

Though the content is almost unimaginably harsh, surely the sublime manner in which it is presented made it a great read then – and now, thousands of years later.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron

  

Parashat Mattot/Masa'ei, Numbers 30:2 - End

The great heat wave we experienced in New York City this week -- including some record setting temperatures -- has  caused me to rethink my image of the Israelites walking in the desert.  This week’s portion – Mattot (literally, “canes,” but here in the meaning of “tribes”) and Masa’ei (literally, “the journeys of”) – demonstrates, among others, just how much ground they actually covered in their forty years of travels. (See Numbers 33:1-43).  Now my own main worry this past week was the broken AC in my living room (I was mostly nervous for my baby-boy Michael, who practically lives there). But the Israelites, who had to endure the desert sun for forty years, did not have air condition; they did not have running water; in fact, they did not have any real idea that they will have any water in the coming days – a truly demoralizing notion, especially if you walk all day in the desert. In fact, all they had was a true, wholehearted belief in their God.  Now that’s a true statement of faith, at least in my book. And while I am not sure they had many options to go elsewhere in the middle of the desert, the very fact that they confined their complaints to several isolated incidents – rather than, say, a long, continuous, string of grief and pain expressions, as well as escalating anger – does provide a different look, perhaps, of their true nature.

[Now bear in mind, of course, that the text is very selective, and was written by the “winner” (“his-story” – history is the story of the victor, to whom goes the spoils, including what – and what not – to report). Recall further that any and all hints of resentment or opposition were met with terrible faith. That, too, may teach us something on “the regime of fear” that may have controlled these people. Still, the people were many – more than 600,000 – and Moshe is one; at some point, had they all – or a strong majority – wanted an out, they would have gotten their way. But they didn’t and for that I give them credit this week.]

In today’s note I would like to highlight a very interesting point that may teach us something about the current Obama administration.  If you may recall (and it is perfectly understandable if you have already forgotten – it seems so long ago), Obama came to the White House on the wings of a “Yes We Can” campaign. He promised “Change,” and to do things differently in Washington DC. But then Congress happened. And when Harry (not Reid, but Obama himself) met Sally (pick your favorite conservative leader in either chamber) – all good intentions came to a screeching halt. Or, in other words, when the ideal and platonic notions of good, equality, human rights, and prosperity met with the realities politics, with cynicism, and with cold cost-benefit calculations – most initiatives were eventually left out. (Take, for example, the fantastic idea of a public option [well recognized in other  Western Democracies]  that would require all health insurance companies to reduce their rates and compete more vigorously – gone with the wind.)

How is all that even remotely related to this week’s portion? To properly understand that, we have to begin with last week’s portion (Pinchas) and the story of B’not Zlophchad (The Daughters of Zlophcahd). No doubt one of the very first feminist groups, these five brave daughters of Zlophchad – who, luckily for his daughters, never had a male son – were intelligent, well spoken, independent (and, according to Midrash, beautiful as well). In Numbers 27:1-11 we encounter their wonderful and very inspiring story. (Please go ahead and read it – it is self explanatory). In short, when their father passed, since he did not have a male son, he could not bequeath (give away after his death) his land to anyone; the five daughters, then, were left without any property. So they came before Moshe to plead their case. Now this trivial detail is not trivial as it seems: recall that Moshe had accepted, a while ago, an advice from his father in law to establish a much elaborated, multi-tiered legal system that would essentially bring before him only the hardest of cases. Here, not only that the five daughters (apparently) went through all the “lower courts,” but their case was heard – as the text emphasized – before Moshe, Elazar the Great Priest (Aharon, the first Great Priest, passed a short time prior), the Heads of the tribes, and “all of the community” -- and all that is happening in front of Ohel Mo’ed – the Tent of Meeting, where the tabernacle was housed. In short, this is the Supreme Court sitting in full session.

And their argument was unique. Like many feminists thousands of years later – Ruth Bader Ginsburg comes to mind most prominently – they presented their case more in terms of human rights than women’s rights (as, indeed, we have learned: Women’s rights ARE human rights). Their claim was that their father and his memory will be hurt by erasing his name from the list of property owners after his death; in addition, the whole tribe would be disadvantaged, as fewer families would have land within it.

The case is so complicated, it seems, even for Moshe and he can't make up his mind. Should he give these five unmarried (!) women their own land (for the first time ever), as their claims are just and reasonable, or should he continue with the “men-only” policy, which worked so well over the years (for men, at least). So Moshe “brought their case before the Lord” as some translations tell us, or, in the more beautiful Hebrew original suggests, he “brought the case closer to God.” And God did not hesitate: Not only did He give the Daughters of Zlophchad their land (in this specific case), but He also took the opportunity to announce a general law regarding all women – who may, from now on, receive land from their deceased father (only if, unfortunately, that father bore no sons).

So that’s the ideal, “Yes We Can,” part of the story. In today’s portion, we meet “the heads of Congress” – the elderly members of the Tribe of Menashe, where it all happened. They, too, come to plead their case before “Moshe and the Heads of the Tribes” (though neither in front of the chief religious authority nor in front of the people). They, too, framed their arguments in terms of general public interest – nothing to do with women’s rights in particular. And here is what they had to say, in essence: (See Numbers 36:1-12): "You have provided the daughters of Zlophchad with real property. Now these women would eventually marry; and most likely, to people outside their Tribe. Once that happens, all five parcels would be reduced from our Tribe, and added to the land of the other tribe (As land parcels – how else – follow the husband). What should we do?"

Notice that this is somewhat of an appeal on a final Supreme Court decision (authored by God Himself, no less).  But Moshe is not too impressed; he doesn’t even need to summon God to solve this hard, after-the-fact appeal. Rather, he merely orders a simple solution – the women should marry inside the Tribe; thus, he argues, the lands would always remain within the Tribe. [The much simpler solution, that the land would actually follow its real owner, man or woman, apparently never occurred to him at this stage in history.] This is the law of Zlophchad daughters, and this is the law in general. And yes, the text adds, the daughters indeed married "inside their tribe" - they married their cousins, and everyone was happy, or so it seems. The interesting thing to me, at least, was the way Moshe chose to phrase his decree (of marrying inside the Tribe): “They may marry anyone they wish, provided they marry in to a clan of their father’s tribe.” (Numbers 36:7).

This reminded me of an answer that my father, an extremely sharp lawyer, gave me when I asked him what does the dress-code requiring lawyers (in Israel) to wear “dark suits” to court mean; he said, and I quote: “You may choose any color you like, provided it is black.”

Shabbat Shalom. 

Parashat Pinchas, Numbers 25:10-30.1

This week’s portion, Pinchas – named after the grandson of Aharon the Priest, Moshe’s brother – is, in a way, a mirror image to the portion of Korah that we have read several weeks ago. There, if you recall, Korah dared to challenged Moshe’s leadership in quite sophisticated a manner; no good, said the Lord, and the earth “open its mouth” and swallowed” both Korah and his followers. (Interestingly, but not coincidently, a reminder of that story appears in this week’s potion as well – see Numbers 26:9-11).

The “mirror image” of this week’s portion is also a bit nuanced.  Here, we first learn – still in the previous Portion – that the Children of Israel no longer wonder in the desert, but rather “sit” or park at a place called Shittim (perhaps a play on words on “shotim,” fools). Next thing we learn is that they begin to “go out with” – or, in the biblical language, to “whore with” – the daughters of Moab, a local people from the other side of the Jordan. And soon thereafter, the Israelites begin worship these women’s Gods. That, of course, makes God extremely angry (and not for the first time).  Rather than instructing Moshe, as he done in the past, to kill the entire people, God instruct him to take only the “ringleaders” and kill them. Moshe instruct the Judges to do so (I am emphasizing this seemingly trivial fact to demonstrate the notion of separation of powers was not quite developed yet: the judges were also executioners, or at leas so it seems.).

But the Israelites – who had “chutzpa” long before Alan Dershowitz were born – refuse to take the hint: A man – later known as Zimri, a president of some family of the Tribe of Shimon – goes out in public, and in front of Moshe himself and the entire people he “brought the Midianite woman closer to him”; the people of Israel, in response, began weeping.  (Num. 25:6)

And here comes the act that defines this week’s portion:

And Pinchas – the son of Elazar, the [grand]son of Aharon, the [Chief] Priest – saw this and he stood out of the community and he took a spear in his hand. … And he came after that man [Zimri]and he stabbed both of them: The man from Israel and the woman to her stomach, and the plague ceased to attack the Children of Israel.    (Num. 25:7-8)

Thus, at first glance, in Pinchas we have the exact mirror-image of Korah: Not only that he does what God ordered Moshe to do, he even “jumped ahead” of Moshe and killed the sinners before Moshe – through his “judges” was able to lift his hand.

A more careful examination, however, may demonstrate that the picture – as indicated earlier – is a bit more nuanced.  Recall the story of the (other) sons of Aharon, Nadav and Avihu, who were put to death for (what I referred to) as “Rosh Gadol” – too much of a good thing, if you will. They sacrificed, without a specific permission, another fire – a “foreign fire” – to God, and so their punished was harsh and swift. (See Leviticus 10:1-3).   Just like Pinchas, they wanted to show that they are “holier than thou” in the sense that they practiced a tradition – the providing of sacrifice – that demonstrates a great devotion to God, above and beyond what God ordered them.  For that they were punished (by death). Pinchas, in essence, did the same: He jumped, ahead of Moshe and his men (judges), and pro-actively approached the sinner and the woman with him and killed them both. The response by God this time, however, was the complete opposite of punishment:

And God spoke to Moshe and Said: … I would provide him [Pinchas] with my covenant in peach; and he would have it for him and his posterity after him – a covenant of eternal priesthood for he was jealous to his own God and repent the sins of the Children of Israel. (Num. 10-13)

What is the cause to this stark difference? How come the first generation of Aharon’s sons, after trying their best to show their devotion to God were punished by death, while the grandson was blessed with eternal covenant with God for doing quite the same thing?

Obviously, one answer is that the two deeds are not the same. Sacrificing a “foreign fire” without permission is nothing like killing a sinner after God specifically instructed Moses to do so. But this is not a satisfactory answer. Recall the largest point made by both stories of Korah (“opposition equals death”) and the Sons of Aharon (“too much of a good thing” also equals death”). Brought together, these two stories should suggest that Pinchas’ act – as noble and pro-God as it may have been – was still in direct violation of Moshe’s authority and of God’s instructions (who told the Judges to kill the sinners). How come his life was not only spared, but blessed – and by God himself, for good measure?

To be honest, I don’t have a good answer to that.  (I’d be delighted to hear one from you, the readers.)  But I may surmise that these two former stories – Korah (who is, again, mentioned in this portion as well), and Aharon’s sons’ death – created a sense of awkwardness, not to say a sense of injustice by some readers. The overall impression was that it’s “Moshe’s word or death,” a tough pill to swallow, even for the most ardent of believers. Hence, we needed a story where Moshe was instructed to do X, but someone “jumped ahead” of him, executed God’s wish, and won an eternal award. Now go out and do the same.

Shabbat Shalom.