Parshas Matos-Masai – Small Borders

Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Sofiya Sara bas Merah and for a continued refuah for Leah Nechama bas Shulamit.

Listen to the news in many Western countries and you might hear contradictory reports about there being too many people on the planet or direly low rate of population growth in a particular country. Obviously, these reports are focused on very different concerns; nevertheless, they highlight our natural interest in how the world fulfills the most basic human commandment, the first commandment of the Torah, which is to be fruitful and multiply.

It is well known that peru urevu is a mitzvah that Jewish law takes seriously, and so one must question the fact that the Jewish people are now, and have always been, a tiny sliver of the population. Of course we can point to the horrors of modern history as to why our population is small today, but the fact of the matter is that we have always been an insignificant percentage – numerically speaking.  The constant devastations that have limited our numbers are accounted for in many of the upcoming parshios in Sefer Devarim that make clear the consequences of our betrayal of the covenant, but perhaps we can find in this week’s parsha a different perspective – a hope filled perspective - on our size. Perhaps, looking at the description of the borders of the land, we might see that this was the plan all of long.

 

The borders of the Promised Land, as delineated in Perek 34, do not create an enormous territory. In the next Perek, Hashem specifies that the Leviim were to have 48 small cities, six of which were to be cities of refuge. The size of our land appears to be not much different than that of the State of Israel today, which we know is smaller that most states in the United States. There have always been kingdoms of far greater land mass. If Hashem had intended the Jewish people to grow strong in the way that other nations have grown strong – through physical presence and force of population - would He not have sanctified a far greater territory as that destined for Bnei Yisrael.

 

One could argue that more land was not needed for the nation that Hashem brought forth from slavery in Egypt, but the Promised Land (even with more territory as delineated elsewhere) was never large. It wasn’t large because it was something far greater. This small swath of land nestled against the Mediterranean is the land Hashem promised Avraham, it is the land walked and known by our forefathers. It was never “big,” but it was always holy.

 

Other than nodding our heads at the fact that we remain a small nation, what can we gain from considering the size of the Promised Land, the limitations this infers for the future population? Bnei Yisrael are pledged with being an “Am Kadosh” (a holy nation), a “mamleches kohanim” (a nation of priests), and so forth. The kohanim among the Jewish people were a small sliver of the population, descendants of one man out of thousands. And the kohanim were given the honor of replacing the firstborn sons of the nation, which is, again, a small percentage of a population. To be holy means to be separate, or to separate one’s selves, and to form a people that can truly live up to that title, implies that there will be limits. Bnei Yisrael is not destined to conquer the world with an army or to overpower the world with might. Bnei Yisrael is destined to present to the world the very real possibility of living a life dedicated to serving Hashem.

 

There is a frequently discussed Midrash that explains that when the Children of Israel left Egypt, only a fifth of the people followed Moshe. The other 80% perished in the plague of Darkness. In many ways, this Midrash is a key to understanding the steady disproportion of the Jewish people, and also, perhaps, modern day assimilation into Western society. Choosing to enter the wilderness in order to serve Hashem is not easy, even for those who are born into a fully observant lifestyle. Being an Am Kadosh requires dedication, and that dedication limits Bnei Yisrael. Those limitations, however, are the key to our destiny. Rather than worry over our size, our job is worry about being able to fill the role that merits the fullness of the Promised Land.

 

The Jewish people have never needed a vast population to influence the world; we have never needed to swarm over the earth and force people to join us. The power of the Jewish people, the secret of our survival for so many millenia, has been our choice to stay dedicated to our role. The Land of Israel was then and will be the perfect size for us in the coming days when the state of the world will recognize our sanctified role.

 

May we see the days of redemption and the coming of Moshiach swiftly in our time.

 

Parshas Balak - Maintaining Bechira

Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Leya Nechama bas Shulamit

Parshas Balak is a rather strange portion of the Torah. Not only does the Torah present a non-Israelite who appears to have a level of intimacy with Hashem that, until now, has seemed unique to Bnei Yisrael – indeed to Moshe in particular - but there is also a talking donkey and an angel with a sword. These attributes, however, are not what make Parshas Balak so confounding. The most perplexing aspects of Parshas Balak are the seemingly contradictory messages that, when examined closely, illustrate the ever-present tension of bechira (free-will) and the Divine hand in the world, and how important that tension is to the Divine Plan for life.

For those unfamiliar with the narrative, Balaam, a non-Israelite “prophet” whose spiritual connection matched that of Moshe, was asked by King Balak of Moav to curse the Israelites. He tells the emissaries of Moav that he can do nothing without Hashem’s approval, and, when he seeks that approval, he is told no rather firmly (22:12). Balaam sends the messengers home, but Balak sends more emissaries, offers greater reward. So Balaam once again requests to do this task for Balak, and “God came to Balaam at night and said to him, ‘If these men have come to call for you, arise and go with them, but the word I speak to you-that you shall do’" (Bamidbar 22:20).

No hesitation. No mulling over the words. Balaam wakes in the morning, saddles his she-donkey, and heads to Balak. And this angers God greatly. But, it seems necessary to ask: Didn’t Hashem give Balaam permission to go with these men, and, if so, how can Hashem be angry at him?

 Obviously, Balaam missed the tone of the permission, but one doesn’t want to think of Hashem being “Passive-Aggressive.” Indeed, that is not the point at all. Hashem gave him permission to go, but Hashem also provided Him with the framework to make the right choice, to choose to follow the path already set out for him at the very outset. It was, one might presume, obvious to Hashem that Balaam had already determined the course of his actions, and the only way to stop him would have been to alter his will.

 Having free will means that one has the ability to ignore the very obvious proper path; one has the freedom to make bad choices (even over and over and over).  Of course, having the freedom to choose the divergent path does not mean that there are no consequences to those choices. There are, indeed, consequences. The Children of Israel chose to listen to the report of the scouts and believe ill of the Promised Land; Hashem let them react, let them be fearful and angry…but their reaction meant that they could not enter the land immediately, that they were not ready.

 On his journey to meet with King Balak, Balaam’s she-ass sees an angel with a sword and balks.  Balaam gets angry with the ass and eventually strikes it; at which point both the she-ass and the angel speak to him. In this moment, Balaam is facing a higher level of communication than almost anyone in the Torah does. He is being prevented with a direct message of displeasure from Hashem, and yet he still has the choice to ignore it.

 Significantly, as noted by Rashi citing the Midrash Tanchuma, the fact that Balaam did not see the angel in the first place was a message to him of his decreasing ability to connect to the spiritual world. Balaam, however, does not acknowledge this shift in himself. He sees himself still as the powerful-“prophet.” He recognizes that he should have seen the angel, not that he was unable to see the angel, and therefore responds: “I have sinned, for I did not know that you were standing on the road before me. Now, if it displeases you, I will return” (22:34). The conclusion of this pasuk is also loaded with significance. Balaam, according to the commentators, is implying that the angel would be displeased, that the angel would want him to turn back, and, in so doing, is asking the angel if he is contradicting the permission Balaam feels he has already received from Hashem.

 (One can almost feel the angel shaking its head in despair at the man’s stubbornness.)

 When the angel tells Balaam to go with the men, it is, as Rashi notes quoting Maseches Makkos 10b: “On that road that a man is resolved to go, he is allowed to go.”

 Hashem does not want to directly intervene in a person’s free will. This is why we don’t see open, grandiose miracles on a regular basis. Witnessing or being part of direct Divine intervention reduces one’s ability to function with bechira, and perhaps this is why Hashem became angry when Balaam proceeded on the path after the emissaries returned. He didn’t want to have to interfere.

 Hashem directly removing or limiting a person’s bechira happens even less frequently than open miracles. He warned Balaam not to set out on this path, and still Balaam made his own choices.

 By the time Balaam reached Balak, he had been well-warned that his words would not be his own, should he choose to curse the Israelites. But Balaam also believed that he had twice evaded following Hashem’s will, and so, perhaps, when he told Balak that “I can utter only the word that God puts into my mouth” (22:37), he believed that this too he would be able to talk his way out of.

 And thus we come to the actual act of blessing the Israelites when he intended to curse them. Was this not a direct dissolution of Balaam’s bechira? Hashem literally put words in his mouth! But Balaam had been warned; he had been told what would happen and so it was not a limitation of his bechira – it was a consequence of his choice of action.

 Balaam was an evil, stubborn, and arrogant man, but Balaam’s actions provide us with an important reminder about the world Hashem created. Every person has free will. Every person has the power to make choices in their lives. Hashem can provide startlingly direct messages, and we still have the ability to make the wrong choice. It is not just part of being human; it is an essential aspect of fulfilling our roles in olam hazeh.

Parshas Chukas – Past-Present-Future

 It used to be that when people used the term “the good old days,” they were referring to a time of their youth or childhood. In 2022, when we refer to the good old days, many of us are referring to anytime before 2020.

 

The fact of the matter is that here in Parshas Chukas we have confirmation that it is human nature to paint the past in a euphoric light. “Why have you taken us out of Egypt to bring us to this evil place” (Bamidbar 20:5). Right, because Egypt was better than being in the Wilderness in which Hashem has been taking care of everything!

 

It’s true, the Children of Israel were frightened that they were losing leaders, that they needed a new source of water. But the exaggeration of the term hamakom harah, this evil place, tells us a lot about their state of mind. Even if one were to say that they felt this way because they had witnessed their brethren dying, it still does not make sense. Every death was clearly attributable to the punishment determined and declared by Hashem after the incident of the spies. The closest thing to “evil” that occurred to them was having consequences for their own behavior, and yet this was enough for them to think back fondly on Egypt. Perhaps we can understand it like a university student who is suddenly faced with new standards of work and responsibility and thinks back on the idyllic life they had in high school, when in reality they spent high school wishing for something else.

 

Idealizing the past is normal. It’s easy. After all, we have already survived that state of being, and so we know that we can continue to do so. Indeed, often when we look to the past, we see not just how we survived, but how we thrived – no matter what those circumstances actually were…and that longing for the safety and security of the past colors not just the then, but the now as well. Especially when the present gets difficult.

 

“Why have you taken us out of Egypt to bring us to this evil place; it is not a place for seeds, or for fig trees, grapevines, or pomegranate trees, and there is no water to drink” (Ibid).

 

We forget, rather easily, that life is a journey, that our goal in life is to grow and to attain spiritual rewards. For Bnei Yisrael in the wilderness, that ultimate spiritual reward was the land of Israel, and that place in the desert was only a stop on the journey … so of course it did not have seeds or fig trees, grapevines or pomegranate trees. It wasn’t supposed to.

 

The rose-colored glasses with which we view the past are often the direct result of our current day discontent. Every moment of our lives is colored by that which has come before. Human beings are expert complainers, experts at looking around and wondering why the world is not meeting our standards. What we need to become are experts at looking ahead. Today is hard; tomorrow, imertz Hashem, I will be planting grapevines and pomegranate trees.

Parshas Korach - Achieving the Opposite

The last chapter of Parshas Korach describes some of the privileges of being either a Kohain or a Levi. To sum it up quickly, the priests are able to eat many of the sacrificial offerings, including, often, select portions. The priests receive the best of the gifts that the people bring to the Temple, the firstborn of the flocks and herds, and the payment of the redemption of the firstborn. The Levites receive a tithe (1/10th) of the crops of Bnei Yisrael, but from all that they receive they must take a tithe as well and bring it to the priests. These privileges, these rights to eat from the offerings and to receive the tithes, were in compensation for the services they were to perform for Bnei Yisrael as well as for the fact that they would receive no land of their own. 

Receiving the maaser tithe alleviated the need of the Levites to work the land. It made certain that they were provided for. But, if one examines the actual system, one notices that this was nothing in comparison to what was now granted to the Kohanim, who, at many points in Jewish history, actually had a great deal of wealth. This may always have been Hashem’s plan, of course, but if one follows the text of the parsha one might notice the subtle irony that this increase in wealth for the Kohanim, this elevation of the priesthood yet farther from the rest of Bnei Yisrael, was a direct result of Korach’s rebellion. 

Korach, a Levite, approached Moshe and charged him with nepotism. He said to Moshe: “You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and Hashem is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves [Moshe and Aaron] above Hashem’s congregation?” (Bamidbar 16:3). 

On the surface, Korach’s argument was that the sons of Amram held too much power, too much honor, among themselves. He railed against the fact that Moshe had appointed Aaron as High Priest when Moshe was already like a king, even though they had both been given their roles by Hashem. 

Commentaries frequently discuss the question of Korach’s underlying motivation. Korach was already placed well above most of Bnei Yisrael. The Midrash informs us that not only was he a leader among his family, but he was both exceptionally wealthy and a well-regarded scholar. Furthermore, he was a Levi, and thus had already received the elevated role of serving in the Mishkan. In trying to dissuade him and his followers, Moshe cried “Is it not enough that the God of Israel has distinguished you from the congregation of Israel to draw you near to Him, to perform the service in the Mishkan of the Lord and to stand before the congregation to minister to them?” (16:9).

Korach and his followers lost their argument when Hashem caused the earth to swallow Korach and sent heavenly fire upon the followers. The dramatic end to the rebellion does not quell the unrest. The people complain the next day that Moshe and Aaron were responsible for the violent end of the rebellion. Hashem struck the people with a plague and then sent Aaron into the people to accept their atonement and be saved from the plague. At the same time, a staff for each tribe was put in the Holy of Holies and the next morning Aaron’s staff budded almond blossoms and almond, thus ending any doubt to Aaron’s having been chosen by Hashem.

At the very end of these tumultuous events, the perek has two interesting pasukim: “The children of Israel spoke to Moshe saying, "Behold, we are dying, we will perish, we are all lost! Whoever comes the closest to the Mishkan of the Lord dies! Have we been consigned to die?” (17:27-28). Thus we come to Perek 18, where Hashem commands: “The Lord said to Aaron: You, your sons and your father's house shall bear the iniquity associated with the Sanctuary, and you and your sons with you shall bear the iniquity associated with your kehunah. Also your brothers, the tribe of Levi, your father's tribe, are drawn close to you, and they shall join you and minister to you, and you and your sons with you, before the Tent of Testimony.” (18:1-2). What had been simply roles and jobs for the Kohanim and Leviim were now responsibilities for which they risked bearing iniquity. 

Korach started his rebellion with pluralistic rhetoric, claiming that one family should not hold so much honor, but his true goal was to elevate himself. It was his actions, his inability to recognize and utilize that which he already had, that led to what could be seen as a further division of the Kohanim to the Leviim and both to the rest of the tribes. 

Parshas Korach can, perhaps, be read as a negative narrative that emphasises the statement articulated in Pirkei Avos: “Who is a wealthy man, he who is happy with his lot…” This does not mean that one should be meek and never stand up for oneself. However, when one feels angry or disgruntled or wronged, perhaps the first step – before the reaction – is a self-check. What are my motivations? Am I angry because of my ego or because an injustice has truly occurred? And being honest with oneself, as we all know and as is plainly clear from Korach’s example, is one of the hardest tests a person can face. When we are not honest with ourselves, however, the consequences may be far from what we actually seek. 

Shabbat Shalom