Fulfilling Your National Duty--Matot-Massei

Fulfilling Your National Duty

D’var Torah for Parashat Matot-Massei 

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman 

On Friday mornings, the checkout lines at Israeli supermarkets are extra long. By one or two in the afternoon, everything closes for Shabbat, so anybody who needs anything to tide them over until Sunday or Monday do their last minute shopping now. Like half the rest of the country, Sally, my mother and I were also standing in line, more or less patiently, while the customer ahead of us argued with the cashier and then arranged and rearranged her groceries in the overfilled baskets that she wanted delivered to her house. 

Even with the AC on, the store was crowded, and it was hot and humid. To pass the time, we eavesdropped on the conversation of the three soldiers standing behind us in line. They were speaking English, and we immediately figured they were in the category called chayal boded, “lone soldiers,” a group of about 3,000 soldiers whose families do not live in Israel and yet volunteer to serve in the Israel Defense Force—despite the fact that they are not obligated by law to do so. 

Out of curiosity, I engaged the three in conversation. Their names, I learned, were Dan, Jared and Gabriel. 

Dan is from Illinois. Tall and sturdy, he had always wanted to be a soldier and at first thought of serving as a Navy SEAL. However, the time commitment asked of him was too long, and so he volunteered to serve for three years in the IDF and then make up his mind as to what to do next. 

Jared, though born in the US, has an Israeli father who had served in the IDF. His family now lives in Arizona. As the son of an Israeli citizen, Jared’s older brother came to Israel to serve in the army, and now Jared felt duty-bound to follow in his father’s and brother’s footsteps. 

Gabriel comes from New York State. “Near Albany,” he said. “Why did you volunteer,” I asked him. Without a moment’s hesitation, Gabriel responded, “Because I am Jewish.” 

No further explanation was needed. Coming to help the Jewish nation in its homeland is a tradition and obligation that goes back to Torah times. It is a mitzvah that we first encounter in this week’s Torah portion, Matot-Mass’ei (Numbers 30:2-36:13, the last double portion of this book). In this story, just prior to the Israelites’ entry into the Promised Land, the two tribes of Reuben and Gad, as well as half of the tribe of Menashe, choose to remain on the eastern bank of the Jordan River. The land there was fertile and promised to be a good one for their families, vast flocks and herds. Moses agrees to the request, on the condition that they help in the conquest of the Promised Land and then come to the defense of the rest of the people if and when they are ever attacked. Only when the two and a half tribes agree to the stipulation does Moses allow them to remain in the Diaspora. 

In the centuries that followed this incident, our history achieved peaks and lows that paralleled the evolution of Western Civilization. Twice was our capital, Jerusalem, destroyed; twice was almost the entire population of Judea forced to leave its homeland. But in both cases a remnant always stayed behind. Those who stayed were subject to further conquests, living in poverty and squalor. But they were never neglected by their brethren who lived in more peaceful and successful circumstances. There was no army—the Jews were forbidden from defending themselves; but money was collected and donations flowed to the impoverished communities. 

In the 20th century, history changed once again. For the first time in 20 centuries, Jews had an army. For the first time in as many years, they could defend themselves in their own land, as soldiers in a Jewish army—which, miracle of miracles, could also be source of protection and pride for Jews all over the rest of the world, in all the lands of our Diaspora. 

The Israel Defense Force is one of the mightiest armies in the world today, its skills honed in one war after another. Its reach seems to know no bounds. Serving in the IDF was a duty I felt personally bound to perform. I served because I could; because it was a privilege many of my immediate ancestors did not have; and also because it was a commandment. 

Of course, not all people think as I do. There are tens of thousands of ultra-Orthodox Jews in Israel today who enjoy the privilege of studying Jewish texts in freedom and luxury—the government actually pays them to be full-time students!— who do not spend one day either in the army or in any kind of national service, and yet who protest the call for universal draft in Israel. I often wonder if they and I are on the same page even when we study the same parasha. After all, doesn’t Moses make himself clear enough to the tribes of Reuben, Gad and Menashe? Only after they help their fellow Israelites may they return to their own homes, children and flocks. You can’t have the comfort if you don’t contribute to the safety and defense of your people. It’s a law for all times and all Jews, wherever they live! 

The three Lone Soldiers I met while waiting in line at the supermarket were fulfilling not only their own destiny, but also an ancient mitzvah—and their glowing faces and full smiles gave testimony to just how they felt about doing so. 

 ©2012 by Boaz D. Heilman