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