Strength and Power (and The Difference Between Them): Korach.22

 Strength and Power (and The Difference Between Them)

D’var Torah for Parashat Korach

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

June 29, 2022

This week’s Torah portion is Korach, Numbers 16:1—18:32. This highly dramatic portion describes the rebellion against Moses and Aaron instigated by Korach, a fellow Levite (and member of the second highest class among this chosen tribe, the Kohathites, just lower than the priests themselves).

Ostensibly a family matter that got out of hand, Korach accuses Moses and Aaron of usurping and abusing power. He enlists the help of co-conspirators, leaders of the tribe of Reuben, first-born son of Jacob and therefore by custom and common practice entitled to leadership. Basing his claim on Moses’s wish, “Would that all God’s people be prophets” (Num. 11:29), Korach and his cohorts accuse Moses of unjustly elevating himself above all others.

This uprising comes shortly after the incident with the spies whom Moses sends out to scout out the Promised Land. Ten of the twelve spies give a demoralizing report. Only Joshua and Caleb remind the Israelites that they are headed towards a land “that flows with milk and honey” (Num. 14:8). As part of the uprising described in this week’s portion, Dathan and Abiram, leaders of the tribe of Reuben, turn this vision on its head, claiming that Egypt is that rich land (Num. 16:13).

In politics it seems that there are always two directions that candidates want us to choose between: forward and backward. Only in this case it isn’t politics as usual. The storyline of this portion tells of a dangerous coup attempt against Moses. Ultimately, its lesson is about the key difference between strength and power.

The question of historical validity is always upmost in Biblical research. In this famous story, God shows displeasure by commanding the earth to open up and swallow Korach and all his companions. It’s hard to imagine a less scientific description of the end of the rebellion. However, the moral cautions that this dramatic tale conveys are real and valid even today. 

Several events in the portion highlight the legitimacy of Moses’s and Aaron’s position.  Leadership is earned—if not through miracles, then through faith and courage. True leaders not only establish order, they also give us a vision of a better future and chart a path toward it. Korach and his cohorts point to the past and counsel returning to it. That they remind the people of the riches of Egypt but actually leave out the worst of their experience there—slavery and genocide—says much about them. 

Korach reaches for power by using people’s confusion and fear. His motivation was never really about the people. It was all about power, power for its own sake, power for his own sake. 

Moses’s achievements on the other hand, are not only in leading the Israelites out of slavery and toward the Promised Land. Where he succeeded above all else was in unifying the Jewish People, not only by giving us goals and aspirations, but also by showing us how to get there. His strength is based not on fear and control, but rather on the power of love and caring. His courage is drawn not only from his faith in God, but also from the faith he has in the people and in our intrinsic ability to overcome challenges and difficulties. 

Power for its own sake is a dangerous tool. Used by tyrants and demagogues, it is destined for failure. Strength founded on vision, faith and courage is the sign of true leadership. The proof of Moses’s success is shown not only through stories and miracles, but also by the undeniable historical truth of the ongoing existence of the Jewish People. 

Korach is a story about power and politics. Its lessons are no less valid today than they were thousands of years ago.

© 2022 by Boaz D. Heilman

The Day They Took Our Rights Away: Reversing Roe vs. Wade

 The Day They Took Our Rights Away

Shabbat Sermon by Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

June 24, 2022

“Be fruitful and multiply,” a blessing given by God to Adam and Eve (Gen. 1:28) is understood, at least in Jewish tradition, as a commandment. As such, it is the first commandment given by God, and for thousands of years it has served as the moral principle in making life-and-death decisions.

The ability to reproduce and have children, however, also has legal implications. Children are more than a blessing: they are often seen as an economic necessity. Children—of all ages—can lend a hand in the kitchen or in the field and participate in family business ventures. In some countries, children have been traditionally employed from a very young age on to weave carpets or create clay pottery—crafts that often require small hands. In Nazi Germany, Jewish children were often spared (until they grew) because their small fingers could be useful in cleaning out bullet shells.

Worldwide, as of 2020, about 160 million children were subjected to child labor. That’s one out of ten. Poverty, migration, sudden illness (such as the COVID pandemic), or job loss of the family’s main provider are the main reasons for this terrible phenomenon. 

Whatever the reason, children were always seen as valuable property, used or abused at the will and whim of—you guessed it—mostly (but not exclusively) the father; or, in places were slavery was common, the master.

Thus, protecting the welfare of children was always seen as one of the most important issues mandating state legislation. 

The mother’s health, however, was also seen as a vital consideration. Up until recently, both child and mother’s mortality rates at birth were incredibly high. Doing everything possible to save the mother’s life became an absolute necessity.

The balance between the two issues was always at the heart of legal and moral debate.

The question of abortion today revolves on the meaning of the term “viability.” At what point does the fetus become “viable?” Additionally, at what point does the state’s right to protect the viability of an unborn fetus overreach a woman’s right to choose and control her own body and what happens within it?

For nearly 50 years now, Roe vs. Wade guaranteed the right of women to choose whether to carry a pregnancy to term or abort it, based on the right to privacy. 

In a landmark decision issued today (June 24, 2022), the Supreme Court overturned this decision, declaring that states have the right to regulate abortions, from the moment of viability on.

In doing so, the Supreme Court basically took away women’s rights to make their own decisions, a throwback to an ancient and outdated perspective. 

In truth, however, Roe vs. Wade was always more than only a moral choice. It was literally a life saver, giving permission to trained medical professionals to administer, in sanitary and safe conditions, a procedure that for millennia has caused countless tragic, needless deaths. Unwanted pregnancies aren’t always the result of a one-night stand, though that too is nobody’s business but the couple’s. Often, rape and incest led to unwanted and unloved children. The prohibition of abortion at any point, for any reason, may cause irreparable harm, even death, in cases where the mother’s health may be at risk.

In the Talmud (BT Yevamot 69 b), it is stated that “Until forty days from conception, the fetus is merely water.” This statement is part of an entire tractate discussing women’s rights, and considering that the discussion was conducted almost exclusively among men, the decision to declare a fetus viable at no earlier than forty days is important. It establishes a legal as well as moral precedent for all further Jewish law.

This view, however, is contradicted in the Zohar, the volume of mystical Jewish belief, which claims that "An embryo that was killed in its mother's womb is akin to destroying God’s Creation and his Omanut (art, creation or faith)” (Zohar 2:3b:6).  

The Midrash (Mekhilta d’Rabbi Yishmael 21:12:2) states yet another opinion, namely that aborting even at eight-months is not considered murder, if the fetus “is destined to die.” 

Family hardship, whether physical or emotional, was also deemed justifiable in ending pregnancy.

The debate in the Jewish community continues to this day, mostly along religious lines. Orthodoxy tends to be much stricter, whereas among Conservative and Reform Jews the majority opinion holds that the mother’s health is of paramount importance. A responsum issued in 2008 by the URJ (Union of Reform Judaism), states that “Abortion is an extremely difficult choice faced by a woman. In all circumstances it should be her decision whether or not to terminate a pregnancy, backed up by those whom she trusts (physician, therapist, partner, etc.). This decision should not be taken lightly (abortion should never be used for birth control purposes) and can have life-long ramifications. However, any decision should be left up to the woman within whose body the fetus is growing.” (https://web.archive.org/web/2008032098722/http://urj.org/ask/abortion; accessed June 24, 2022).

The general belief held by a majority of American Jews (close to 88%) today is expressed in an article by Rabbi David Ellenson (then president of Hebrew Union College) that first appeared in The Forward in 2003, against a legal ban on so-called ‘partial birth abortions.’ Rabbi Ellenson writes: “This law as it has been enacted unquestionably diminishes the inviolable status and worth that ought to be granted women as moral agents created in the image of God.” (http://www.huc.edu/newspubs/pressroom/2003/forward.shtml, accessed June 24, 2022). 

Obviously, the issue of abortions has both legal and moral implications, and possibly more so today than ever, the discussion is passionate and even violent. The decision reached today by the US Supreme Court may be based on legalistic point, but it unquestionably follows religious principles. Its extremely conservative perspective can only be construed as due to the influence of extremist religious groups. In protecting “state rights,” the Court has curtailed Constitutional guarantees for all people’s health and safety. In its decision the Court failed to recognize—and reaffirm—its previous decision of Roe vs. Wade. Though there is precedent for changing prior decisions, this is the first instance of the Court’s taking away individual rights rather than defending them.

In today’s decision, the US Supreme Court perhaps succeeded in affirming some minor legal footnote; but in the larger picture, it has failed both Americans—women in particular—and humanity as a whole. It has failed the test of an incontrovertible moral verdict, that women must be seen as free and independent “moral agents created in the image of God;” and that there are some areas in a person’s or family’s life where the State simply does not belong. Today’s decision sets us back hundreds and thousands of years and fails to align with a more enlightened view of human moral and legal rights. It's going to be a long and difficult struggle to move forward from this benighted decision. 

May we all find the moral and physical strength to fix that which is broken, and to set to right that which was wronged today.

© 2022 by Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

 When Fear Becomes Terror: Shelach Lecha.22

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

Fear and faith are two sides of the same coin. They both play an important part in the continuous struggle for survival. Fear keeps us from safe from danger; faith keeps us going when the going gets tough. Of course, when fear gets out of hand, it can also hold us back from making progress. Likewise, faith too, when it turns fanatical, holds its own dangers. In this week’s Torah portion, Shelach Lecha (“Send Forth,” Numbers 13:1—15:41), we see an example of the fear that holds us back, and the consequences of giving in to our terrors.

“Shelach lecha!” God commands Moses. “Send men to spy out the land of Canaan, which I am giving to the children of Israel” (Num. 13:1, NKJV). From this verse we see that God’s faith is unwavering. There is no doubt of God’s full commitment to the promise God had made to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Now, four hundred years later, it is their descendants, the People of Israel, whose faith is weak and who need a lesson in courage and conviction.

Moses does as commanded; he sends out twelve spies, each a tribal leader. The spies scout the land for forty days, and at the end bring back their report. There’s good news and bad news. The land is indeed fertile and fruitful, as God and Moses had promised. As proof, they display a gigantic cluster of grapes and a sampling of other fruit. However—it is populated by fierce men who live in heavily fortified cities. Resorting to legend and myth, ten of the twelve spies describe these “men” as “Anakites, sons of Nephilim” (giants descended from mythological, semi-divine beings first mentioned in Genesis 6:4). What’s worse, they continue, “We were like grasshoppers in our own sight, and so we were in their sight.” 

The disparity in size and power that they describe is stunning, causing shock and fear to spread among the people.

Only two of the spies—Joshua and Caleb—reassure the Israelites that, with God at their side, victory is possible.

But the Israelites do not listen to them. Instead, they rebel, announcing their intention to return to Egypt rather than confront what they see as certain death at the hands of “giants."

Not unexpectedly, God is incensed at this failure of faith and follows through with extreme consequences: The Israelites will have to remain wanderers in the wilderness—an entire year for each day the spies scouted out the land, forty years in total. Additionally, during this time, all those born into slavery in Egypt will die out in the desert; only those born free would be able to enter the Promised Land. 

It's a tough prospect, but for the Israelites, these forty years will turn out to be a period of growth and learning. Their faith in God and Moses will be tested many times. Yet perhaps because of the struggle, or perhaps because they will need to weather harsh conditions in the Wilderness, they will emerge from this period stronger than ever. Their faith in themselves and in God will increase with each encounter. And at the end of the forty years, they will prove true descendants of Jacob, whose God-given name, Israel, means, “You will struggle with humans and with the Divine, and you will prevail.”

In this Torah portion, through the story of the twelve spies sent out to scout the Promised Land, the Israelites learn an important lesson: Fear can be helpful when it keeps us safe. However, when we let night terrors rule our thoughts and actions, progress becomes impossible. 

At the end of the day, fear holds us back, but hope and faith have the power propel us forward. With God’s help we have the power to overcome any obstacle that stands in our way. 

That is what has kept us going for more than three thousand years now.

© 2022 by Boaz D. Heilman

“Just So”: Be-ha'alotecha.22

 “Just So”

D’var Torah for Parashat Be-ha’alotecha

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

Of all the symbols of Judaism, the Menorah is the oldest and most enduring. First mentioned in context of the Tabernacle—the Tent of Meeting, the portable Temple that served the Israelites during their 40-year wandering in the Sinai Wilderness—the seven-branch candelabra precedes by several hundred years other familiar symbols such as the mezuzah, the star of David and the chai. Though the other three often appear as jewelry, the Menorah stands alone, occupying honored space at temples and synagogues, on holy book covers, and as art and ritual objects in homes and museums.

Images of the Menorah are also found in ancient carvings, signifying sacred space and identity. Through millennia, city gates and burial grounds displayed the symbol in a prominent place, identifying Jewish presence and use. 

Originally formed of solid hammered gold, in the year 70 of the Common Era the Menorah that stood at the Temple in Jerusalem was captured by the victorious Roman armies and taken as booty to Rome. The Arch of Titus in the Roman Forum still displays a relief featuring the Menorah, symbol of the suppression of the Judean revolt in the year 70. 

After the destruction of Jerusalem, the seat of Jewish authority was moved to the Galilee, in northern Israel, with menorahs now signifying the enduring presence of Jewish life and ritual in Israel.

In its eight-candle version, the Hanukkah menorah (called hanukkiah in Hebrew) reminds us of the miracle of Jewish survival through the ages despite oppression and persecution.

In this week’s Torah portion, Be-ha’alotecha (“When You Kindle,” Numbers 8:1-12:16) the Torah gives instructions for lighting the Menorah. The section concludes with the words, “And Aaron did so… as Adonai had commanded Moses” (Num. 8:3). These few and simple words stand in stark contrast from the detailed description of the Menorah itself, and they merit a wonderful explanation by Rashi, the eminent 11th century commentator. The question he raises is, why does the Torah need to state this in the first place? Would Aaron not do what God commands? Rather, teaches Rashi, “This shows Aaron’s virtue in that he did not deviate [from God’s command].” In this explanation, Rashi refers to an early midrash that emphasizes the importance of the continuity of Jewish tradition: “The sons were equated with their father” (Sifrei Bamidbar 60). Aaron not only followed God’s instruction diligently, he also took care to teach his children to do the same.

Another commentary underscores Aaron’s humility. The Menorah is symbol of God’s light and instruction. Kindling its lights was seen as one of the most important functions assigned to the High Priest. It could have resulted in excessive pride, but not so with Aaron. In this interpretation, it was Aaron himself who did not deviate, whose character was not altered by his important role. Aaron carried on his accustomed work of seeking peace, caring for his people and offering solace and comfort in their time of need.

Though synagogues and temples have now replaced the Temple in Jerusalem, we, the Jewish People, have learned to turn our homes into “mini-temples.” Here we are the priests, entrusted with carrying on our ancient traditions and culture. And when we kindle Shabbat candles; when we teach our children to follow God’s instructions; and when we follow God’s teaching with love and humility, we prove ourselves true disciples of Moses and Aaron. We too do it “just so,” just as God and the Torah command.

© 2022 by Boaz D. Heilman

Taming the Uncharted Wilderness: Naso.22

Taming the Uncharted Wilderness

D’var Torah for Parashat Naso

Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

Bamidbar—in the wilderness; the title of the fourth book in the Torah is at once both reality and metaphor. The physical setting is the Sinai Wilderness, but the lessons are just as much about navigating the meandering paths Life takes us on.

With the Exodus from Egypt now behind them, the Israelites have begun their journey towards the Promised Land. The Wilderness is uncharted territory, harsh and inhospitable. Located at the crossroads of three continents, the Sinai Peninsula is a desert where nomadic tribes interact—sometimes peacefully, other times not—with caravans of traders. Throughout the ages, it has seen empires clashing for power and control. And in the midst of it all, some 3200 years ago—it was the setting for the wandering tribes of Israel, a nation of nearly 700,000 men, women and children (at least according to the Torah’s account) trying to find its way, seeking to instill a measure of order, purpose and direction into its existence.

In this week’s Torah portion, Naso (“Count,” Numbers 4:21-7:89), Moses continues his task of organizing the Israelites by tribe and clan, assigning duties and obligations. But even as he attempts to bring order into the life of the newborn nation, chaos is always on the sidelines, ready to pounce. The dangers aren’t only on the outside. Human emotions can easily turn into dangerously uncontrollable passions, with chaos the inevitable result.

The Torah teaches that love and faith are sacred sentiments. But when love turns into jealousy and when faith becomes frenzied zeal, any semblance of order immediately disappears.

Naso therefore tries to set rules meant to contain these dangerous passions. It sets limits to religious fervor and ordains rituals that are meant to placate the jealous heart.

Even today we see how dangerous these two passions can be. Domestic violence is often directed against children or the elderly. Yet women account for the largest number of its victims. In Naso Moses sets up rules and rituals pertaining to a sota—a married woman suspected of adultery. Couched in misogyny, fear and superstition, the Ordeal of Bitter Water is horrifying and humiliating. Yet it has a much greater purpose in mind: to save the woman’s life. 

The ritual is effective in that it takes matters out of the jealous husband’s hands and turns them over to a hopefully more objective priest. It’s also intentionally designed to prove the woman’s innocence. Yet it is still a vile and horrible ordeal. It also reinforces the continuing subjugation of women, part of a primitive social order that most of the civilized world rejects today, yet which still exists in many places around the world. “Honor killing” is still an accepted practice in much of the Near East, while even in more advanced cultures the incidence of violence against women remains appallingly high. This week’s Torah portion, while unable to root out this evil, at least attempts to control it. 

Also in this portion, and serving a similar function, is the case of the Nazirite—a person who takes on extraordinary vows of religious devotion. While faith can lead to acts of goodness, it can also become extreme and dangerous. Throughout history we see how easily religious zeal turns into intolerance. Religious hatred has the power to destroy not only individual lives, but also entire nations. Naso, again in an effort to limit what it cannot eradicate, therefore sets boundaries to such behavior. 

Arguably more than other Torah portions, Naso reflects the culture of the time. Yet the mindset and behavior that it describes are still widespread today. Faith and love enrich our lives and give us purpose and direction. But when they adopt extreme forms, they result in conflict and chaos. 

As we try to navigate the uncharted wilderness that life sometimes is, this portion offers important cautions and guidelines. Its teaching is just as important today as it was thousands of years ago.

© 2022 by Boaz D. Heilman

The Sum of All Numbers: Bamidbar.22

 The Sum of All Numbers

D’var Torah for Parashat Bamidbar

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

June 1, 2022

As most people see it, more is better.

We measure success by how much we earn, or by how large our homes, backyards and cars are. Elections are often decided not only by the number of votes a candidate gets, but also by how much money enters their coffers. Competitions are won by numbers, as are bets; while “influencers” get their title by the number of followers they have on social media.

In our world we organize our lives by numbers—months and days, years and anniversaries.

Our fundamental sacred text, the Bible, is also filled with numbers—beginning with the number of days God worked in creating the world, going on to the size of Noah’s ark and the number of days that the ark remained borne upon the waters of the Flood. 

Yet some things are immeasurable, such as God’s promise to Abraham, “I will bestow my blessing upon you and make your descendants as numerous as the stars of heaven and the sands on the seashore.” 

Some things cannot be measured. Values exceed any effort to quantify or estimate. Holiness expands to no end, while evil plumbs the inestimable depths of human imagination and capacity.

Superstition has it that counting people is bad. This superstition is reflected several times in the Bible, where a direct census of the people leads to plagues and other disasters. In the fourth book of the Torah, Numbers, Moses avoids this mistake by counting not the people, but rather the half-shekel coin that each individual must bring forth to be counted.

This may reflect the superstitious belief, but it also has at least two important lessons for us. 

First is that everyone is equal in the eyes of God. No one, for richer or poorer, is of greater importance than another. Before God, all are equal. There are no kings and no servants; a half-shekel’s worth each, no more and no less.

The other important lesson is that human beings, no matter how insignificant in the universe, also possess infinite potential. When we think of people merely as numbers, we become statistics, soul-less bodies without imagination, without the power to love or hate, to feel pain or inflict it. Yet the truth is that in these respects humanity is almost limitless. 

In this week’s Torah portion, Bamidbar (“In the Wilderness,” Numbers 1:1-4:20), Moses is commanded to take a census of the Israelites. But the purpose of this census is not merely to count the Israelites, but rather to make each one count. To make everyone matter. To enable each of them to rise to their full and unique potential.  

The Rabbis teach that the value of the life of each human being is equivalent to the entire universe. Each one of us contains an infinite number of possibilities. We are truly as immeasurable as the stars in the heavens and the sands on the seashore. To think otherwise of ourselves, or anyone else, is to make a mockery of the endless potential planted within us by the mysterious and infinite force we call God.   

© 2022 by Boaz D. Heilman