One People, Bound By
Oath
D’var Torah for
Parashat Matot
By Rabbi Boaz D.
Heilman
It’s a surreal scene.
The picture on the TV is of fires, bombs and black smoke. There’s war less than 100 miles from
here. But in our home, as in many other
homes in Haifa and much of the rest of Israel, there’s peace. Candles are lit, prayers and Sabbath songs are
sung, and the fragrance is that of delicious, traditional foods. It’s a calm
that is absurdly inconsistent with what’s happening elsewhere.
From my mother’s apartment, up on the heights of the Carmel
Mountain, it’s easy to believe that the world is one and at peace.
The news, however, tells us otherwise.
It’s a rift that is hard to resolve. Two separate realities, distant and opposite, both
physically and spiritually.
This week’s Torah portion, Matot (“Tribes,” Numbers 30:2—32:42) tries to deal with a similar break. The 12 tribes of Israel stand poised to enter
the Promised Land. Two of the twelve,
however, plead with Moses to be allowed to remain on the eastern shore of the
Jordan River. The land there was fertile and green, producing ample feed for
their herds and flocks. It would be a
peaceful place to settle, build their homes and raise their children, they
claim.
Moses has reason to fear this request. He is afraid that the descendants of Reuben
and Gad—the two tribes that opted to remain in a diaspora—would lose their
connection to the rest of the People of Israel, that they would not be there to
support their brethren in times of trouble and difficulty. The Reubenites and Gadites, however, take an
oath always to be part of Israel’s destiny, to support the people and to maintain
their Israelite identity. Only when he
hears this oath does Moses relent and permit them to settle outside the
Promised Land, conditional forever on the fulfillment of their oath.
This has always been Israel’s strength—that no matter where
we lived, we have remained one people.
Our faith and texts unite us. Our
history is a shared past. Our present
and future are all Israel’s destiny.
But even beyond that, it is our oath to Moses, the covenant
we all signed in the presence of God, that keeps us united no matter where we
live.
Attacks against our people are not restricted to this piece
of land or another. Today, the terror comes
from Gaza and is concentrated around the southern and central regions of
Israel. In 2006, thousands of rockets
were launched from Lebanon, aimed indiscriminately at Haifa and the northern
regions of our land. In the decade prior
to that, homicidal terrorists detonated bombs in busses, markets, clubs and
restaurants all over the country. Going
back to 1948 and beyond, we can see that this ongoing war always was, and still
is, waged against any and all Jewish presence anywhere in the Land of Israel,
period.
It’s hard to comprehend such hatred. As Jews, we know that our deepest desire is
to live in peace, to raise our families in peace, to worship as we always have,
and to contribute our very best to the local and global communities of which we
are part.
Our history isn’t all about hatred and bloodshed. There have been golden ages in Israel, in
Egypt, in Iraq, Morocco, Spain, Poland and many other places. Many of us believe that today we are living
through the latest and greatest of this series of golden ages. Our contributions to world civilization and
culture, throughout the eons of our existence, are far too many to count.
But there have also been expulsions, wars, crusades and
holocausts. The latest war currently waged
against our people isn’t restricted to the Land of Israel proper. Protests and rallies have turned ugly and
violent not only in Paris, but all over the rest of the world too.
It isn’t only about Israel.
It’s hatred for Jews, wherever we live.
That, unfortunately, is also a factor that unites Jews all
over the world.
In the past, we learned to protect ourselves by living
behind ghetto walls or, when those didn’t work, by moving from one country to
another. We sought safety in bribes and ransoms
and by willingly paying exorbitant taxes.
We believed assurances issued by kings and noblemen, caliphs and
emperors. In the nineteenth and
twentieth centuries, millions of our people followed the beacon and promise of
a new world and a new political system based not on old prejudices, but rather
on the intrinsically human values of freedom and individual abilities.
For many others of our people, however, after 2000 years of
broken promises, our journey has led us back to the ancient land that is at the
foundation of our existence.
Today, our promise to Moses still stands. No matter where we live, we are all brethren,
all members of one family. We don’t
always agree; that is also part of our covenant with Israel and with our
God. But we are there for one
another. We’ve got each other’s backs.
The rest of the world may be riven by violence, hatred and
bloodshed. But Israel, amazingly,
miraculously, holds together through words spoken 3000 years ago, true then and
still true, thank God, today. Am Yisrael Chai: The People of Israel yet lives.
© 2014 by Boaz D. Heilman
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