Like A Rose Among the Thorns

Like A Rose Among the Thorns
D'var Torah for Parashat Matot
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

I never fail to be astounded by the paradox that is called humanity. We can be so wonderful on the one hand, and so evil on the other. No better example of this can be found than in this week's Torah portion, Matot (Tribal Chieftains), Numbers 30:2—32:42.

The parasha can be divided into three sections. The outer parts of the portion reflect the highest ideals. Chapter 30 further expands women's rights, a development that was begun much earlier with the laws of the "Sotah," the woman suspected of infidelity to her husband. In a society where survival was often accompanied by unspeakable brutality, women's rights was not exactly a hot topic. Yet in this chapter, at least with regard to religious rituals, while the final say over the behavior of wife or daughter is still the father's or husband's, the woman's opinion on the matter must clearly be considered. (As always, a widowed or divorced woman had by far greater control over her own life and religious behavior.)

Another ideal this Torah portion strives for is the individual's responsibility towards family and community. Though this may seem to be an obvious and intrinsic value for all—or, at least, most—human beings, we must always remember the savagery and selfishness that people are also capable of. No law ever exists independently of prevalent conditions. A stop sign is posted only at dangerous intersections. Laws are enacted only in situations where danger is perceived. The harsh realities of life and the basic needs of survival create an environment where it becomes easy to overlook the greater good of the community. The final section of "Matot" relates the desire of two and a half tribes—Gad, Reuben and half of the tribe of Manasseh—to settle in the hilly and fertile region of Gilead, on the eastern shore of the Jordan River. In the request they submit to Moses, these tribesmen refer first to their vast herds of livestock, and only later to the need to protect their wives and children. Left out altogether is any mention of responsibility to the rest of the People of Israel.

Moses is infuriated by this display of selfishness. He reminds the tribesmen of their relationship to the rest of the people, making them take an oath to participate in the conquest of the Promised Land even if their own holdings are to remain outside the actual borders of this Land. He also reminds them of the proper order of their more personal responsibilities—first the women and children, and only then the vast herds of cattle and sheep. The tribesmen agree to both conditions, an important lesson for all of us.

These outer sections of "Matot" teach lessons in human rights and proper values. One would hope that the Torah would be only about that. But the Torah also reflects the time in which it appeared, and the human condition in general. We can be idealistic; we might be capable of the highest achievements. But human beings are also capable of unspeakable savagery and cruelty. The middle part of this portion, a command issued by Moses to exterminate the entire tribe of Midian—men, women, children and livestock alike—reflects a side of Moses that rarely appears in the Torah (in fact, many Biblical scholars believe that these orders, in effect amounting to total genocide, were a later addition to the Torah).

The ancient rabbis were quick to expound on this section, teaching that Moses could not have meant the genocidal annihilation of an entire people, but rather the destruction of the concept implied by the Hebrew meaning of the word Midian—divisiveness or causeless hatred.

That may be so, but nonetheless the literal meaning of Moses's command cannot be disputed.

Survival is the name of the game of Life we are all part of. Society has created a vast legal and social superstructure whose purpose is to control the behavior that follows our basic need to survive. When this superstructure collapses—as it does all too often—terrible things happen. The true miracle of Jewish survival is not that we are still here, a people nearly four millennia old, but rather that the moral and spiritual essence of Judaism has continued to flourish despite the grim realities of life and our history. That moral essence is like a rose among the thorns. It is our hope and beacon, the shining light by which we stride in spite of the many setbacks, by which we advance despite the forces of evil that all too often are found within us, part and parcel of our humanity—the forces that drag us down.

The marvel of Matot is that, from our earliest days, we Jews have learned that survival is accomplished not only through war and violence (essential though these sometimes are)—but rather also through spiritual transcendence. Striving for the ideals taught us by God, Moses and the Torah, we have learned to rise from the ashes of chaos and become followers and teachers of the Law of justice, love and compassion.

One can only hope the flower survives on, just as it has so far.

© 2011 by Boaz D. Heilman