Parshas Matos-Masai: Lessons in Communication

 Warning: This Dvar Torah may upset people with strong feminist views.

 Parshas Matos-Masai begins with a topic that, on first read, might seem troubling to a modern-day woman. After one verse (30:3) stating that a man who makes a vow is required to uphold that vow, the Torah goes into a rather detailed explanation of the vows of women and, some might say, how easily those vows can be nullified.

 Bamidbar 30:4 begins with basic terminology: v’eesha ki tidor neder – If a woman makes a vow… but the first example is quickly explained to be a woman still living in her father’s house for reason of her youth. This woman, living in her father’s house, can make a vow or a self-imposed obligation and must keep it…unless her father objects (30:6) that day. If she has taken it upon herself while single and then gets married, her new husband can nullify that vow (30:9). Verses 11-17 describe the similar rules that apply to a married woman making a vow or a self-imposed obligation but in more detail, details that offer us great insight into the importance of communication in marriage.

 The husband of a woman who makes a vow has the ability to nullify the vow of his wife, but only if he does so within the day of hearing of her vow. This, it should be pointed out, is an interesting use of language. The nullification does not have to occur on the day the vow was made, but rather on the day that her husband learns of the vow. She is not, it appears, under an obligation to tell her husband about her vow, which allows her time to lay down the foundations for him to understand her actions so that when he does learn of them, he will not object.

 The Torah is then very explicit: “If her husband offers no objection from that day to the next, he has upheld all the vows or obligations she has assumed: he has upheld them by offering no objection on the day he found out” (30:15).

 The Torah goes to great length stressing that the husband has one day to object to the vow or self-imposed obligation. If he objects two weeks later, or even two days later, he shall bear the guilt for every time his wife does something contrary to her vow or obligation.

 The Torah wants marriage and family to succeed. It recognizes a dynamic in the pairing of male and female for him to seek a sense of being respect and her to seek affection and “protection” (yes, this is a broad generalization and a far more complicated discussion). The husband is given the role of head of the house because he needs that respect. That role does not mean he is greater/she is lesser. It is practical in that, until most recent history, a man’s role was to be protector and provider. He needed a strong sense of importance to do his job well, a sense of others depending on him. This need has not changed, even in the world of white-collar jobs and two income families. Torah philosophy consistently defines the masculine as the giver, and the giver thrives on being needed and respected for his efforts.

 The feminine, on the other hand, is the receiver and thus the one who feels fulfilled by being given to. These definitions create the dynamic brought to fruition in halacha for a “Head of the Household.” This dynamic is precisely the issue at play in the question of vows, and the unstated solution to a sense of restriction is communication.

 It is easy to see the subject in these pasukim as seconding women, except that there are some very specific words that show it is not about women per se but about a woman’s place in her family. The first halacha stated above is for a woman living in her father’s household due to her youth. This may set off concern to the modern-day reader, but the actuality is clarified in the Shulchan Aruch: “After six months of adulthood (physical maturity as defined by halacha), she is fully independent, and the father no longer has authority over her vows” (Shulchan Aruch Yoreh De'ah 234:1). One could see the time when the father can restrict her vows as the tumultuous time period of early adolescence, which to many parents might make sense.

 Bamidbar 30:10, set in-between the young bride whose husband nullifies vows she made in her youth and the vows of a wife, states: “The vow of a widow or of a divorced woman, however, whatever she has imposed on herself, shall be binding upon her” (30:10). They are the same category as a woman not living under her father’s household.

 A woman is not seen as less capable or less reliable than a man in determining her future. Rather, the Torah is here recognizing that the role of Baal HaBayit (Head of the House) is given to the man. He is set as the captain of the ship so that he may best fulfill his role of giver, as protector and provider. To maintain this dynamic, the Torah restricts ways in which a woman might undermine her husband but, at the same time, limits the ways in which a man might manipulate his wife. And this leaves us at a critical juncture in which reading deeper provides a valuable lesson. If a wife wants to make a vow that will affect the household (and that covers most things since each member of a household is a cog in its functioning), she should discuss it with the head of that household. If a husband does not like changes made by his wife by having taken a vow, he cannot just nullify it once it has been accepted; rather, he must speak to her in order that she agrees to nullify it for herself.

 And, thus, we come to the age old lesson on the importance of communication.

 I wish you all a beautiful Shabbas.  

 

 

 

 

Parshas Pinchas – The Power of Standing Up

 Dedicated to a Refuah Shelaima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, and Sharon bas Shoshana

 

Parshas Pinchas is a parsha that focuses on bravery and heroism, on stepping forward in order to ensure that the correct path is followed. The greatest heroics in Parshas Pinchas, however, are not the remembrance of Pinchas’ act of casting his spear at the unabashed Zimri and Cosbi. Rather, the greatest act of bravery came from Machla, Noa, Chagla, Milca, and Tirza.

 

The story of the daughters of Tzelafchad is well-known. They requested of Moshe that they inherit their father’s portion in the upcoming allotments of the Promised Land. Moshe asked Hashem what to do. Hashem not only stated that the sisters were correct but set out the laws of inheritance to include daughters when there is no male heir. 

 

The sages note that these women were “wise, they are interpreters [of verses], and they are righteous. [That] they are wise [can be seen from the fact] that they spoke in accordance with the moment, (they presented their case at an auspicious time). As Rabbi Shmuel bar Rav Yitzḥak says: Tradition teaches that Moshe our teacher was sitting and interpreting in the Torah portion about men whose married brothers had died childless, as it is stated: “If brothers dwell together, [and one of them dies…]” (Bava Batra 119b:).

 

Bamidbar Rabbah 21:11 states: “What was their wisdom? It is that they spoke at that moment when Moshe was engaged in the portion of the inheritances: ‘To these the land shall be distributed’ (Bamidbar 26:53). They said to him: If we are like a son, let us inherit. If not, let our mother be subject to levirate marriage.” If a woman who bore a daughter did not need to go into a levirate marriage, then one could understand that a daughter had rights to inheritance like a son when there is no son.

 

Their claim was not a fancy or a whim but a complex aspect of halacha. Their goal was similar to the goal of the levirate Marriage – that the name of their family would not be lost to history.

 

We don’t often think of something like a legal assertion as being heroic, but what happened with the daughters of Tzelaphchad was as brave as that which happened with Pinchas. Pinchas knew the law and carried out that law by killing Zimri (and Cosbi). The daughters of Tzelaphchad knew the law and stood up to declare that it need to be enforced. 

 

They did something incredibly difficult and brave. They stood up and spoke out for themselves. 

 

This may not seem like such a brave thing, but it is something which should not be dismissed. The other recorded times in the Torah when someone approached Moshe with a challenge or a request things didn’t turn out so well (the spies, Korach, the complainers). The Or HaChaim notes that the Zohar in Parshas Balak comments that the daughters confronted Moshe with others around because they were worried that he would hold a bias against them. He writes: “Why would [women] who have been described as righteous by the Talmud assume that Moshe had hatred in his heart against them or their late father? … It is possible that they were afraid that just as with the people who had complained in Parshat Beha-a-lotcha, as well as the spies who had forfeited their inheritance in the land because they had raised their voices against Moshe and against G'd, Moshe would rule similarly against them on account of the sin of their late father” (Or HaChaim on Numbers 27:2:3).

 

The real bravery was not overcoming their fear of bias, however. Rather it was that these women saw that the law needed to be clarified and they did not leave it for someone else to speak up. Whether we like to discuss it or not, approaching the assembly and appealing to Moshe was entering the realm of the man’s world. In the Jewish world, halacha and its discernment is very much in the man’s realm. They didn’t let that stop them. They knew what their rights were, and they didn’t fall back to thinking of themselves as just helpless maidens or insignificant women. They stood up and put halacha first.

 

Little is known about the individual sisters. However, Hebrewversity .com had this interesting understanding of their names:

“Machla – like the Hebrew verb ‘Le-Cholel’ - which means ‘to move’ (and ‘to dance’ in Modern Hebrew). Noha -like the Hebrew verb ‘La-Nua’ - which means ‘to move’ as well. Choglah  – like the Hebrew verb ‘La-Chug’ – which means ‘to circle.’ Milcah – like the Hebrew verb ‘La-Lechet’ - which means ‘to walk.’ And Tirzah – like the Hebrew verb ‘La-Rutz’ – which means ‘to run.’

As you probably noticed they ALL have something to do with the concept of ‘moving’ naturally but in Hebrew ALL of these verbs are also connected to the concept of ‘initiating’ or simply ‘be active’ and that was precisely what the daughters of Zelophehad symbolized. (Hebrewversity .com)

 

The daughters of Tzelaphchad  - Machla, Noa, Chagla, Milca, and Tirza – moved Klal Yisrael. They refused to be complacent when they knew of a wrong that needed to be righted. They longed to move forward and have their descendants flourish uniquely among the burgeoning nation. And so they took action and Hashem said Kain- yes.

 

May we all have the strength to stand up when it is right and to present our needs calmly and respectfully and may our actions move us and all of Klal Yisrael ever forward. 

Parshas Balak: The Real Evil

 Parshas Balak is, perhaps, the most narratively oriented parsha in Sefer Bamidbar. There are no sections of law nor any descriptions of ritual acts. There is the story of how Bilaam tried to curse the Jews, and, really, that is all.

 The story of Bilaam’s attempt to curse the Jews reverberates throughout history, just as the blessings that came out of his mouth continue to inspire and empower us. As with all of Torah, parshas Balak helps us understand the world a little better – and in this case that means learning more about the insidious nature of our enemies, of the people who hate Bnei Yisrael without even really knowing Bnei Yisrael.

 While reading Parshas Balak, it might be easy to assume the primary enemy of Israel is Bilaam. As wicked as he was, and as desirous as he was to curse Bnei Yisrael, Bilaam was a tool, a weapon…a proxy. Bilaam was the face of evil, but he was in his position because of a puppet master – Balak.

 Balak ben Tzipor’s name is mentioned over and over again in the Parsha, but mostly as he responds to Bilaam. Balak isn’t interesting. He doesn’t actively negotiate, he doesn’t talk to his she-donkey, and he doesn’t speak to Hashem. Nevertheless, the actual enemy  - the one who outrightly seeks to malign the Jews - is Balak ben Tzipor.

 In the year 5785/2025, we can all too well relate the idea of a hidden evil that works through proxies. Money is power. Balak used his wealth to entice Bilaam into action; Iran used their wealth to supply their proxies with weapons. And it didn’t matter how many times God said no or that the proxies were defeated, the enemy does not stop.

 Balak ben Tzipor is not introduced as the king of Moav. This information is only revealed in pasuk daled (4). Rather, the Parsha begins “Balak son of Tzipor saw all that Israel had done to the Amorites. Moab became terrified of the people, for they were numerous…” (Bamidbar 22:2-3). There is a man, and there is a people. The man saw that the Amorites had been defeated, and he chose to ignore the fact that the Amorites were the ones who attacked. Bnei Yisrael asked only for safe passage. They were attacked and then they were victorious, and to Balak that was not normal since the Amorites had been powerful enough to overtake parts of Moab. Balak the man saw that this small, wandering nation had defeated Sichon, and he inflamed his nation to fear.

 Balak ben Tzipor was afraid of Bnei Yisrael because he understood that this was beyond natural. Balak was, according to the Midrash, a sorcerer in his own right. Indeed, from his name it is deduced that his magic was connected to birds (Tzipor). Interestingly, in some cases of Biblical word play, it is acceptable to look at a word with a tzadi and read it as a samech, in which case tzipor (bird) becomes sipor – story.  Such a name transformation explains, perhaps, Bamidbar 22:4: “Moab said to the elders of Midian, ‘Now this assembly will devour everything around us, as the work-bull devours the greens of the field.’ Balak son of Tzipor was king of Moab at that time.” But Bnei Yisrael had not gathered on their border with the intention of attacking. They wanted safe passage. Neverthless, Balak ben Tzipor a man with no great strength, was afraid and built a story about these people.

 Balak fed his people a story, which increased their fear: “Moab dreaded the Israelites” (22:3). The Moabites took that fear and brought the story forward such that now the Israelites become devourers… and by the time Balak has sent his messengers to Bilaam, the Israelites are “a people that came out of Egypt; it hides the earth from view, and it is settled next to me” (22:5).

 According to this message, the Children of Israel seemed so numerous that they covered the world. No hyperbole there? The Torah states in 22:1, at the end of last week’s patsha, “The Israelites journeyed and camped in the plains of Moab, across the Jordan River from Jericho.”  They camped; they did not settle. They were on the plains, not covering all of the earth.

 Today, the Jewish population of the world today is 15.7 million out of 8 billion, and still there are rumors and tales that Jews control the world and are everywhere. Our enemy has, in the last 30 years, learned to weave tales and twist truth so that the goal of trying to destroy the Jewish people can continue. The enemy, like Balak, is willing to give away a fortune and to cultivate proxies, and even to bring in weapons of true destruction. In Balak’s case, Bilaam, was that weapon. Bilaam had the spiritual energy comparable to Moshe, so had his curses succeeded, had the real iron dome of Divine will, not interceded, the Jewish people would have been decimated.

 The narrative of Parshas Balak can seem mystical and mysterious and beyond 21^st century standards of what is normal (the talking donkey and all that), but in fact, it is all too familiar a narrative.  We must, therefore, take special care to notice what happens after Bilaam stops attacking the Israelites, for that is where we failed. When Bilaam stopped attacking the Israelites, he suggested taking down Bnei Yisrael on a moral level, which led to the terrible acts at Baal Peor. As we fight our enemies today, let us not forget who we are and what we stand for both during and after the battles that must be won.

 I wish you alla  beautiful and peace filled Shabbas.

Parshas Chukas: Chizuk in Chukas

The Jewish nation has spent the last nearly two years in a high state of alert and war. Those in Israel have experienced what we in the diaspora cannot imagine, and we in the diaspora have tasted much that we had assumed had been expiated by western idealism (snort). Needless to say, perspectives have shifted.

Throughout all of this, we persevere, and now we have come again to a parsha that is laden with history. Parshas Chukas is most famous for its focus on the red heifer. However, other than teaching us, directly, about the importance of observing chukos, laws for which we have no rationale, this parsha contains a fascinating reminder of the national journey and how rarely it was smooth. Taken together, the second section of Parshas Chukas draws a global picture of the challenge of being a nation dedicated to maintaining emunah and bitachon.

Following the precise directions for the service of the red heifer, the parsha records a series of short but detailed events.  Miriam dies, and with her death, the source of water disappears. This brings the first complaints. The cry of the people is answered with a miracle as Moshe and Aaron bring water from the rock. This is followed by their interaction with the Edomites, who are left in peace even after they were inhospitable.

Let us pause and take that apart:

The people were disheartened by the loss of one of their spiritual leaders. They saw the physical effect her death had on their world, and they were shaken. They were unable to see a way to bring back something attached to someone on such a spiritual high; they were unable to envision that they could strive toward such collective merit. They received a miracle, but that miracle came at a price in which they learn that even their greatest can make a mistake. This was followed by a confrontation with an enemy who did not show them respect and from whom they turned away and avoided. And while they went around Edom because Hashem commanded them not to fight with Edom due to their relationship, it felt, perhaps, as if they were avoiding defeat. Certainly, one can imagine, their rerouting around Edom felt like a disheartening delay.

The Torah then continues with Aaron’s less shocking death (less shocking because Hashem prepared the nation that he would be gathered to his fathers). He transfers his office to his son, but his loss is devastating to the people, as was Miriam’s. Shortly thereafter, they are involved in a skirmish with a group whom the Midrash explains were Amalekits dressed as Canaanites. These soldiers of the king of Arad manage to take captive(s) but are then defeated. Regardless of this victory, however, the people complain once again about their lack of provisions – more specifically about their boredom with the manna. The consequence of this complaint – snakes - is also resolved with a miracle, that of Moshe’s snake-enhanced staff that ends the plague per Hashem’s word.

Seen together, we once again see how the loss of a great leader, the trauma that loss causes to the people, is not just on the metaphysical realm, where a channel to holiness has closed, but on the morale of the people as a whole. The first sign of this shift is, interestingly, in the language used to describe the skirmish with the men of the king of Arad:

“Then Israel made a vow to Hashem and said, ‘If You deliver this people into our hand, we will proscribe their towns.’ Hashem heeded Israel’s plea and delivered up the Canaanites; and they and their cities were proscribed. So that place was named Hormah” (Bamidbar 21:2-3).

Why are they making a vow to Hashem, and why one worded like a bargain? Why are they ignoring who they are and the fact that Hashem has promised to be with them. The answer is, perhaps, that they no longer felt certain. They were recovering from the mortality of those who seemed like pillars of existence to them.

When there is a lack of morale, when people are stuck in a “why us” mindframe, there is often a waning of emuna and bitachon. When there is a lack of morale, the people complain: “Why did you make us leave Egypt to die in the wilderness? There is no bread and no water” (Bamidbar 21:5). When there is a lack of emuna and bitachon, the problem goes deeper: “and we have come to loathe this miserable food” (ibid.).

The plague of poisonous snakes that followed was not because they complained of physical discomfort, of being hungry and thirsty. Hashem had heard this complaint before. The plague of poisonous snakes was direct result of the viper of despair that they had allowed to grow within their midst from the death of Aaron.

National tragedies, complaints, wars, and miracles – a rather startling combination repeated twice, repeated throughout history. Alas, within all that is occurring in the third decade of the 21^st century (or the 9^th decade of the 58^th century, depending on the calendar), it seems that Parshas Chukas has great resonance. The question is how we hear it? History may repeat itself, but our response in each repetition is what becomes significant. It is up to us to avoid “vipers of despair,” and to reach for new opportunities to develop a connection to Hashem.