What’s Wrong with a 24-Hour News Service? (Shelach)

I was 6 years old when CNN, the Cable News Network, first started broadcasting. It was one of those stations I used to flip past as absolutely too boring to watch, until 1991. It was a watershed year for the channel as millions of people tuned in to follow the Gulf War. I was so desperate to follow the unrest in the Middle East that I watched CNN even while on a vacation in the Caribbean.

When I was a student, I was taught that journalism differed from other writing in that a news reporter was meant to be committed to reporting the news objectively. In history class we learned about the development of “Yellow Journalism,” newspapers written to be sensationalist, and it was definitely a negative lesson.

As a lover of words, I have noticed (as have so many) how, over the last ** years, an objective journalist has become a rare gem. Even when journalists don’t outrightly state their preferences, the way they choose their words often leaves one heavily favoring one position or another. And while this may have always been the case, perhaps in earlier times the reporters were just better at being subtle in their preferences.

These were the thoughts that crossed my mind as I reviewed this week’s parsha, Parshat Shelach. It’s a pretty famous parsha, the majority of which presents an account of the men sent to scout the Promised Land. Twelve men leave the nation and return 40 day later. Their first report appears to be a straightforward response to the task they were given, which was to “See the Land - How is it? And the people that dwell in it - is it strong or weak? Is it few or numerous? And how is the Land in which it dwells - is it good or is it bad? And how are the cities in which it dwells - are they open or are they fortified? And how is the earth - is it fertile or is it lean? Are there trees in it or not?” (13:18-20).

When the scouts return, their initial report was short and seemingly objective: “The land flows with milk and honey, and this is its fruit. Efes - the people that dwell in the Land is powerful, the cities are very greatly fortified, and we also say that the offspring of the giant. Amalek dwells in the area of the south, the Hittite, the Jebusite, and the Emorite dwell on the mountain, and the Canaanite dwells by the Sea” (13:27-29).

Efes. In most English translations this is rendered as “But,” a word that certainly has the capacity to transform the tone of any sentence. However, the Torah does not say Aval, the Hebrew word for 'but.' Rather it uses Efes, the Hebrew word for 'zero.' As Rav Hirsch says: “literally, nothing: but all this is nothing, loses all value for us, for the people are too strong for us.” It’s amazing what one word, subtly injected amidst the rest of the seemingly objective statements, can do to transform the sentence.

And perhaps the subtlety of the report would have been lost on the majority, perhaps they would have spoken with one another about the report and then looked at Moshe to decide what to make of it. But Kalev heard the Efes and he jumped in to support forward motion, he “stilled the people” (from their questioning each other) and encouraged them that “we can surely do it!” (Now you know where Nike got it!)

If the scouts had left it there, perhaps the people would have rallied or perhaps they would have feared. But the scouts assumed that the people didn’t understand their message and so they gave an out and out subjective report, declaring the impossibility of conquest. It is interesting to note that some commentators have said that the scouts' negative report was based on their fear of leaving the special Divine protection they enjoyed in the Wilderness. They did not care to be contradicted and spoke up without any pretense of objectivity, even drawing on hyperbole: the land consumes its inhabitants, the sons of the giants are so great that we are as grasshoppers in their eyes.

The People of Israel who gathered together to hear the report of the scouts had each been witness to a host of miracles. Their own common-sense knowledge and experience should have guided them and given them the security of knowing that if God promised them this land, He was going to give it to them. This was why the Divine consequence to their action was that none (ok, almost none) of that generation could enter into the Promised Land. Their throw-back identity as slaves inhibited their ability to trust their inner voices, and they would never have the courage to stand up and be God’s army and claim the land.

In 2019, we are surrounded with a constant stream of “reporting.” What is true, what is objective, what is fact without bias...this is something that we have to continually strive to find. So often we have our common-sense knowledge, things we feel are inherently true, and we let ourselves get waylaid by “talking heads.” The voices of others who want us to agree with them.

If you are political, you may be nodding your head and saying. Yup, we gotta shut those ___ down, they use such ill-conceived arguments and logic. And while I do tend, politically, to veer to the right, I am most definitely criticizing both the conservatives and the liberals. It’s time for the return of objective reporting, to letting the people develop their own opinions, and for reporting the facts - and just the facts with zero else (no ifs, ands, or buts).

Leadership (B'haalotcha)

There is a fascinating comment on Moshe Rabbeinu’s leadership style by Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch, writing on Bamidbar 10:31-32, when Moshe beseeches his father-in-law to stay with Bnei Yisrael:

But this request which Moshe made and recorded that his father-in-law should remain with them to help them with his knowledge of the terrain and his perspicacity is a fact of not small importance for a true and just estimation of the “mission of Moshe.” As the organizing advice of just this father-in-law (Exodus 18:13-27) proves for all time how little talent for organizing - that very first qualification or a state-building legislator - was innate in Moshe, so does the fact which is told us here completely refute all the nonsense that is circulated of Moses having knowledge of all the plans and their specialities in the desert, with the object of reducing the Divine element in our wanderings in the wilderness to the lower level of a clever and cunning leadership. The man who required the advice of his father-in-law for the most elementary organization and arrangements of the camp, and wrote both down for the everlasting memory of his people, he could only have accomplished lawgiving and leadership as the instrument of God, and was the very last man to wish to surround himself with the halo of more than human insight and miraculous powers. 

What a fascinating comment about the greatest leader of Klal Yisrael (although not necessarily surprising coming from a Yekke). And perhaps it fits well with this parsha’s famous pasuk: “And the man Moshe was extremely humble, more than any man upon the face of the earth” (Bamidbar 12:3).

This parsha actually has an interesting pattern in that within every subject there is something to learn about leadership. In fact, with a bit of a stretch, one can even see it in the name of the parsha, B’haalotcha. B’haalotcha is traditionally translated as part of the phrase in which it is found – “B’haalotcha et ha’neirot, when you kindle the lamps.” But the heart of the word is l’ha’aloat, to cause to go up, and B’haalotcha is “in your causing them to go up.” While the pasuk is referring to the candles, really herein is an excellent reminder that a leader needs to stay focused on the mission of improving the lives of the people being led, that the leader must cause them to go up - and for a leader of Israel, this means to grow spiritually.

The parsha quickly shifts to a somewhat long section on the consecration of the Leviim. The Leviim are to be taken from among Bnei Yisrael and, after being purified, brought “before Hashem and the Children of Israel shall lean their hands upon the Levites” (8:10). The leadership lesson here is that the “buy-in” of the majority is important. The Leviim were pulled out from among the general populace to replace the firstborn in the role of stewards of the Temple, but Hashem brought them forth before Himself and Bnei Yisrael so that they could, in a sense, be involved in this appointment.

From the next section of the parsha, the leadership wisdom is really advice for all things in life. The Levites were counted in their census from the age of 30 (Perek 4), but this week’s parsha instructs them to join the legion of the service of the Tent of Meeting from age 25. The first five years they served as apprentices. Once they were full members of the Levite service corps, they stayed active until the age of 50. “From 50 years of age, he shall withdraw from the legion of work and no longer work. He shall minister with his brethren in the Tent of Meeting, but work shall he not perform” (8:25-26). Leadership develops, and one must learn the job, do the job and then teach the next generation how to do the job.

In what seems a strange shift, the parsha next talks about Pesach Sheni, when a group of men who had become tamei came to Moshe and asked for a way in which they could participate in the mitzvah of the Pesach offering. Moshe took their query to Hashem, and Hashem stated that any man who was tamei or who was on a distant road should have the opportunity to fulfill the mitzvah of the pesach offering one month later. There are so many wonderful leadership lessons here. First and foremost, these men did not make excuses for themselves or just shrug off a missed opportunity, but they pro-actively sought a solution. Secondly, Moshe listened to their concern and sought an answer, this too is a demonstration of an important quality in a leader.

The next two sections of the parsha deal with the Ananei Hakavod and then the silver trumpets, these two sections define the importance of clear communication. When the cloud rested on the Tent of Meeting the people knew that they were to maintain their encampment, and when it rose, they knew they were to travel. The trumpets themselves provided more specific communication - announcing when each encampment should move. The then Torah describes the first time the camp did move, listing each tribe and its leader - and thus offering a reminder of the importance of a management team, of a hierarchy of leadership, that maintains order.

The end of parshat B’haalotcha is very different from its beginning. One might wonder what one can learn from Chapter 11, which opens with the statement: “The people took to seeking complaints...” (11:1). For as important as leadership is, every leader must know, going in, that leadership isn’t easy, it isn’t all cheers and rewards. The people will look for complaints, the people will never all be happy.

`
Moshe was an unconventional leader, an ideal leader really. He was, as is stated in 12:3, a humble man. When Hashem granted prophecy to 72 men, two of whom were still in the camps, Moshe was not concerned about people wanting to supplant him. Nechama Leibowitz points out:

Buber draws attention to the fact that Moshe in his reply does not use the same form of the verb which the lad reporting the matter did when he said ‘Eldad and Medad are prophesying in the camp.’ Moshe does not answer ‘Would that the Lord’s people would prophesy,’ but rather, ‘Would that all the Lord’s people were prophets.’ In other words, Moshe does not ask, on their account, that the spirit of the Lord should rest on them momentarily, that they should be seized by a sudden prophetic frenzy, as it were, but rather that they should attain the permanent status of prophets...

To bring this parsha post to a close, one could summarize that the lesson to be learned from Chapter 12, when Miriam and Aaron speak poorly of Moshe, and Miriam is punished, is that leaders are human. They make mistakes. A good leader, however, will find the right path by which to be redeemed.

Hairy Matters (Naso)

What is it about hair that makes it such an important feature of the human body? While there are certain obvious benefits to having hair, such as keeping one’s head warm, it’s not anything so significant that people are discouraged from, let’s say, shaving their heads. And yet, hair often has a reputation for being something more than just a physical element. Really, one could almost write a sociological thesis on the significance of hair - why some cultures cover it and others display it; on the way people use their hair to express their identities, etc.

You might now be wondering about the significance of hair in a dvar Torah. The most obvious link is the fact that this week’s parsha contains the description of the Nazir, the person who takes a personal vow to restrict himself or herself and to refrain from grape products, to not go near a dead body, and to not cut their hair. It’s a strange combination of restrictions. One can certainly understand why a person who is trying to realign their righteousness, to reconnect with their spiritual side, might stay away from wine (and by extension, grape juice). Touching a dead body, which, at least in this day and age, seems a fairly uncommon activity, can be understood if one understands that halacha sees death as the ultimate state of impurity, and seeing death - the lack of the Divine spirit - can shake a person’s emunah.

So what’s the deal with cutting one’s hair, which seems to be just a basic act of physical maintenance. There is an interesting commentary by Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch on the verse “Kol yemei neder nizri, ta’ar lo ya’avar al rosh...” (All the days of his vow of Nazartism no razor shall come upon his head - Numbers 6:5): “The prohibition of cutting the hair is not to be understood as such a limitation. It is not itself a concrete nazir but it expresses the neder nazir, it characterizes the person who undertakes a vow of Nazaritism. [The word] - ta’ar, [is]  from erah to be uncovered, [he cannot use] an instrument that uncovers the skin, makes it naked....The prohibition here does not lie in the ta’ar but in effect, in removing the hair of the head.”

Ta’ar is a derivative of the root erah, which is also the root of the word ervah. Ervah is the term for the word that defines the parts of the body that, according to Jewish law, are meant to be covered. One of the most interesting aspects of ervah is that, according to Jewish law, a woman’s hair must be covered after she is married - and this too is significant to this week’s parsha because Parshat Bamidbar is the source of the halacha of kisui rosh, a woman’s head covering. In discussing the actions to be taken with a woman accused of being unfaithful, it is written: And the priest shall present the woman again before God and uncover the head of the woman...” (5:18).  About this verse Rabbi Hirsch notes: “By removing her head-covering, the priest expresses the whole reproach which rests on her. One has to remember that although [at the time of the accusation and presentation before the priests] it is still questionable if she had actually committed adultery...by her behavior given cause for kanoy (jealousy)...so that in any case she had deserved the reproach of at least immodest frivolity.”

There is a frequently repeated commentary that the reason the section on the nazir follows the section of the sotah (accused woman) is "To teach you that anyone who sees the sotah (suspected adulteress) in her disgrace will vow to abstain from wine [as does the nazir] (Talmud Sotah 2a)." But perhaps there is something significant in the hair as well. The restriction of cutting hair for the nazir is concluded with the verse “he shall be holy, the hair of his head shall he allow to grow wild” (6:5).

One might think that the nazir is to be praised, but his need to take the nazarite vow is not considered praiseworthy. In the case of both the sotah and the nazir, the exposure of their hair is an announcement of their spiritual status. While both of their hair is, in a way, set free, it is for very different reasons. The sotah’s is an admonition, the nazir’s is reminder to himself that (according to Rav Hirsch) “without retiring from actual contact with the social life around him, [one must strive] to work on himself, spiritually and mentally for the time of Nazaritism to be more by himself with God, His sanctuary, and his teachings. It is to this vow that the insulating growth of his hair (its wildness) admonishes him.”

Perhaps the lesson that we could learn is that we are a society that does not really want one to “let our hair down,” as the phrase goes. We are a society in which following the standards of the community is important, in which the laws are meant to be obeyed truly, and the way we think of hair and maintain our hair is a subtle reminder of finding that balance.

Flexibility (Bamidbar)

Life is messy. OK, it's a cliché, but it's true. How often do we start off our day - our month or year - with a solid plan that goes terribly awry? Sometimes it's a little cog in the wheel, like a kid oversleeping, and other times it's a massive reframing of reality, like, chas v’shalom, a death.

This is the essence of one of the themes one could find in parshas Bamidbar, which is read on the Shabbas before Shavuos. Bamidbar appears to be a directive of how to keep the People of Israel organized. .... first the leaders of each tribe are named, then the census of each tribe is taken, and then each tribe is instructed exactly where they will set up their camp.

Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch notes how incredibly organized the whole process was. He comments that each tribal count starts with a prepositional lamed (to), that was actually an act of stepping forward. By the final tribe counted (Naftali), however, no lamed precedes the words bnei Naftali. Rav Hirsch comments that “After eleven tribes had been counted, the rest, those who had not been counted, remain over by themselves as forming the twelfth tribe and there was no necessity for them to step up and be recognized as such.”

Beautiful. Neat. Tidy...Everyone in just the right place...except for one small hiccup. Bnei Levi. The Levites were not part of this process. They were separate and apart from the other tribes as God had earlier commanded. And it is only after all the other tribes are counted and organized that we start to learn a little bit more about the cogs in the wheel that had brought them to their separated position.

A specific group of Jews is needed to help with the Mishkan/Temple. Aaron and his sons can’t take on the load of work involved in the maintenance and transport of the Tabernacle, and this is alluded to, in my opinion, when it is written: “These were the names of the sons of Aaron, the anointed kohanim, whom he inaugurated to minister. Nadab and Abihu died before Hashem when they offered an alien fire before Hashem in the Wilderness of Sinai, and they had no children; but Elazar and Itamar ministered during the lifetime of Aaron their father” (3:3-4). Aaron’s actual family of priests was incredibly small, made smaller by death of his first two sons.

There needed to be more people for the upkeep of the sanctuary...and in the original plan for the structure of Klal Yisrael, that job was assigned to the firstborn of the nation. This is the second cog in the wheel, the second change of plan that has to happen because the path veered. And so, “Hashem spoke to Moshe, saying, ‘Behold! I have taken the Levites among the Children of Israel in place of every firstborn, the first issue of every womb among the Children of Israel, and the Levites shall be Mine. For every firstborn is Mine: On the day I struck down every firstborn in the land of Egypt I sanctified every firstborn in Israel for Myself...” (3:11-13).

Following this explanation of the special role of the Levites, God commanded that a census be taken of the specific families of the Levites, with their specific jobs assigned, and then a counting of the firstborn of Israel in order for them to be redeemed (although they must be redeemed in every generation).

Within the seemingly neat and organized Parshas Bamidbar is an interesting lesson in flexibility. Things don’t always go according to what seems to be the plan - five kohanim became three kohanim, the firstborn lost their role to the Levites - but that doesn’t invalidate the plan. And this is a lesson that is brought home even more powerfully during the holiday of Shavuos, when we read the Book of Ruth and see how the greatest King of Israel was the culmination of a lot of people shaking up the seemingly straight-lined pathway of the Jewish people.