Pledges, Vows and Promises: Matot-Mass’ei.22

 Pledges, Vows and Promises

D’var Torah for Matot-Mass’ei

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

July 27, 2022

This week’s Torah reading is comprised of two portions, Matot and Mass’ei. Matot (“Staffs,” Numbers 30:2—32:42) refers to laws given by Moses to the tribal heads of the nascent Israelite nation. Mass’ei (“Journeys,” Numbers 33:1—36:13), the last portion in the book of Numbers, recounts the 40-year journey of the Israelites toward the Promised Land, enumerating every stop along the way.

As is true for so much of the Torah, these portions reflect the barbarity of ancient times as well as the idealism that characterizes Moses and his grand vision for future generations.

Matot covers three topics: Nedarim (vows); the war against the Midianites; and the request by the tribes of Reuben, Gad and half of Manasseh to settle not within the boundaries of the Promised Land proper, but rather in the fertile lands east of the Jordan River, in territories won in battle with Israel’s enemies.

Our vows tell the world who we are and what we believe in. They may be words, but they aren’t empty words. Rather, they convey our innermost purpose and our commitment to our ideals. Somewhat like flags around which we rally and which give us aim and direction, our vows are meant to remind us of lifegoals we try to reach. We take them seriously, despite any obstacles that may rise along the way. 

Vows are sacred, and breaking them carries consequences. Hence the Torah also gives us guidelines to help us bend—or, if necessary, nullify—vows we find impossible to fulfill. Such an act should never be simple or easy, and—based on this Torah portion—in later times the rabbis outline several procedures for annulling vows. The most famous of these, of course, is a ritual we follow on the eve of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. The entire service takes its name from this ritual: Kol Nidrei. 

There are times to hold fast to our vows, and times to give ourselves a second chance. As the Talmud expounds (Ta’anit 20:1), “A person should forever be as soft as a reed and not as hard as a cedar.”

As this portion ends, the Israelites are finally poised at the borders of the Promised Land. Having made all this journey together, however, now some of the tribes, namely Reuben, Gad and half of Manasseh, request permission from Moses to stay behind and settle on the eastern shore of the Jordan River. The land there is fertile and offers rich pasture for their herds and flocks. Moses grows angry, thinking that these two and a half tribes wish to shirk their allegiance to the rest of the Israelite Nation. In the ensuing negotiations, however, the chieftains reassure Moses, pledging always to be there for their brethren, to come to their aid in time of famine, or to help out in time of war. Upon hearing this, Moses relents, though not without cautioning them of the consequences of breaking their word. “If you do not do so… know that your sin will find you.” 

A thousand years later, the great philosopher and commentator Maimonides (Moses ben Maimon, aka the Rambam), expands on Moses’ warning, declaring it a mitzvah—a sacred commandment—for Jews to come to the aid and defense of fellow Jews, wherever they are.

Taking possession of the Promised Land is not going to be simple or easy. It will involve battles and brutal warfare. Moses however, great visionary that he was, looks beyond this initial phase and foresees a future where Justice will become the law of the land. As the book of Numbers comes to its conclusion in the portion called Mass’ei, Moses commands the Israelites to establish Refuge Cities. These would become a safe zone for people accused of crimes they may or may not have committed, giving them access to courts and a fair trial. Vengeance, we learn, is not the Jewish way. Justice is. It’s a pledge the Jewish People have held sacred since the most ancient times.

Despite the many challenges Life puts in our way, we learn that human beings can be more than savages. Our vows, pledges and promises enable us to rise above instinct and impulse. We fight when necessary, yes; we bend like a soft reed at other times. But above all comes our pursuit of justice and the law. These are the basic necessities that keep us human, greater than the beasts of the field —and as some commentators say, even closer to God than the very angels themselves. 

© 2022 by Boaz D. Heilman

Women of Note: Pinchas.22

 Women of Note

D’var Torah for Parashat Pinchas

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

July 19, 2022

It isn’t often that women are named in the Torah. What’s in a name, after all?  “A good name is better than precious ointment,” says the Preacher (Ecclesiastes 7:1, KJV). So why are so few women mentioned by name in the Torah? The omission reflects ancient custom and law that saw women as their husband’s property and therefore—no matter how important they may have been—not deserving of special mention.

In this week’s Torah portion, however, (Pinchas, Numbers 25:10—30:1) no fewer than eight women are individually named. This fact signifies not only their achievements in their own lifetime, but also the lasting influence they had on the later development of Jewish law and lore.

It’s understandable why Yocheved (Jochebed) is on this list. Moses may have been adopted and raised by Pharoah’s daughter, but it was his biological mother who imbued in him his Jewish identity. It was she who put her own life at risk by placing her baby in the Nile River, entrusting him to God and the great mission that would become Moses’s life’s purpose.

(Incidentally, Pharaoh’s daughter is not named in the Torah; it was the early Rabbis who saw fit to correct this omission, naming her Batya [Bithiah], or Daughter of God).

Not surprisingly, Miriam, Moses’s and Aaron’s sister, appears on the list—though only in passing. She gets plenty of credit in other passages in the Torah however, as the song leader of Israel, and probably teacher of some of the most ancient traditions and beliefs.

The Daughters of Zelophehad are also among the women who are named in Pinchas. The five sisters, Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah and Tirzah, present before Moses a legal argument. In a section of the portion that deals with division of property among the tribes, they argue that they should be counted as equals among the men, since their father had no sons. In a huge and rare victory for women’s rights, Moses agrees with them, setting a legal precedent for all future generations.

Last on the list is a mysterious woman named Serah bat Asher. Granddaughter of Jacob, she is also mentioned along with the sons of Asher in Genesis 46:17. The double listing of her name piqued the Rabbis’ curiosity, and they knew to tell quite a bit about her. According to them, among other honors and rewards Serah earned was eternal life and passage to Heaven in her own lifetime. 

The Midrash relates several legends in which Serah’s deeds are recounted. One is set at the time when Joseph’s brothers return from Egypt with the news that Joseph is alive and well.  Afraid that the news would shock Jacob and cause him to faint or even die, the brothers consult among themselves how to relate the information to their aged father. (How different from the callous and even cruel way in which, years earlier, they insinuated to Jacob that Joseph, his beloved son, was devoured by a wild animal!). As they approach Jacob’s tent, Serah comes out to greet them. A beautiful girl and talented with the harp, the brothers enlist her help, knowing that, with her gentle ways, she would know best how to deliver the news. 

Over the centuries Serah bat Asher is recognized for many other great achievements. In Persian-Jewish folklore for example she is credited for stopping anti-Semitic attacks during the reign of Shah Abbas I (“The Great”, 1588-1629). To this day, the cave where she performed her great feats is a site of pilgrimage for both Jews and Muslims.

The eight women whose names we recall in this week’s Torah portion are truly women of note. The impact of their legacy cannot be overemphasized.

© 2022 by Boaz D. Heilman

An Indestructible People: Balak.22

 An Indestructible People

D’var Torah for Parashat Balak

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

July 13, 2022

This week's Torah portion is Balak (Numbers 22:2--25:9). In this portion, Balak, King of Moab (a neighboring enemy of ancient Israel), asks the world-famous seer Balaam to cast a curse upon the Israelites. Three times Balaam tries to do as Balak bids him, but each time the attempted curse turns into a blessing. The most famous of these has become part of the Jewish morning prayer service, Mah Tovu: "How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, and thy tabernacles, O Israel!" (King James Version). 

It's hard not to think of these words this evening as I watch--live--President Biden's visit in Jerusalem, and particularly the moments he just spent at the Tent of Remembrance, the heart of Israel's Holocaust Memorial Museum.

It's hard to think of this terrible place, this dark "tent" built of black basalt stones from the area surrounding the Sea of Galilee, as "goodly." The eternal flame burning over the spot where ashes of Holocaust victims are interred provides almost all the light here. Engraved on the floor are the names of 22 concentration and extermination camps built by the Nazis in their efforts to annihilate the Jewish People. A choir sings a prayer of hope in this place where memories of suffering and hopelessness mingle with dreams of courage and determination. The President, obviously emotional, spends precious moments with two elderly survivors, going beyond the planned handshakes and holding with them instead a spontaneous, fifteen-minute-long conversation. 

It's an unforgettable moment. The recognition by the President of the United States of the tragedy and triumph of the history of the Jewish People recalls Balaam's prophecy, "Blessed are they who bless you, accursed they who curse you" (Num. 24:9). It was the United States’ vote that ensured the success of UN General Assembly Resolution 181 on Nov. 29 1947, resulting in the creation of the modern State of Israel. This wasn't as simple as these words might suggest. Anti-Semitism is an ancient curse, and as much as sometimes American Jews deluded themselves into thinking that this part of our history had been left behind in "the old country," we now know how blind we were. Still to this day, whether 

it’s BDS, the desecration of cemeteries, deadly violence directed against worshippers in temples and synagogues, or anti-Semitic sentiments expressed openly and broadly on college campuses and social media, it has become obvious to all of us that this murderous hatred still burns with undiminished intensity.

To hear President Biden expressing support and love for Israel, to read his words in the Yad Vashem guest book, is heartening. “It can happen again unless we remember,” the President writes. “That is what I teach my children and grandchildren—Never Forget.” 

The long-standing friendship between Israel and the United States is deep and mutual. There isn’t always automatic approval, but underlying this relationship is the understanding that the two countries are partners. Deep cultural and spiritual bonds, as well as matching technological and material aspirations, are at the foundation of this accord.

And it all goes back to the vision of Balaam, a blind seer who, thousands of years ago, understood the spiritual beauty and inherent strength that exist in an indestructible people called Israel. 

© 2022 by Boaz D. Heilman

Restoring Our Pledges: Chukat.22

 Restoring Our Pledges: Chukat.22

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

July 6, 2022

For a number of reasons, the Ritual of the Red Heifer has always loomed huge and mysterious in my mind. Of all the sacrifices that the Torah ordains, this is the most exceptional. The greatest rabbis and commentators have given up trying to explain it or how it supposedly works. The great philosopher and codifier of the 12th century, Maimonides, explains that the ritual was performed a total of 9 times before the Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed, with the 10th time reserved for the coming of the Messiah.

The ceremony, most certainly predating Judaism, was meant “to purify” anyone who, in one way or another, had become “contaminated” by coming in contact with death. This enigmatic ritual had the power to “heal” a person following such an encounter, enabling them to return to a more regular and well-ordered life. 

The Ritual of the Red Heifer is described in this week’s Torah portion, Chukat (“The Law,” Numbers 19:1—22:1), set in context of the most difficult challenges that the Israelites have yet had to face. As ordained by God, the generation that had left Egypt is beginning to die out. In this portion, Miriam and Aaron both die. Moses himself experiences a deep crisis of faith—for which he will be punished by being permitted to see the Promised Land from afar, yet without being granted the right to enter it.

It was for just such a time that the Ritual of the Red Heifer was ordained—to rebuild and restore.

I’m thinking that perhaps we need something like this ritual today.

America has been going through a seismic crisis in the past few years. Politically and culturally, our nation is torn apart. The pandemic, climate change and deep societal fractures have resulted in loss of confidence and faith in the direction our country is going. Deadly mass shootings have become an almost daily event, targeting the establishments and institutions that Americans hold sacred—schools, houses of worship, grocery stores, political rallies and demonstrations, and now a July 4 parade. 

We ask ourselves what we can do to stop this horrific series of tragedies. We try to understand the reason or purpose that would provoke an individual to perpetrate such attacks. And while there are some common underlying motives, the symbolism behind a mass shooting happening on July 4, Independence Day, the most American of all our holidays, is clear and obvious. Whether carefully chosen or random, these attacks are against America itself, meant to tear the delicate weave that characterizes our diverse nation.  

So what can we do to change things?

We don’t offer sacrifices today, so the Ritual of the Red Heifer is out. However, what we can do is renew our sacred vows—those pledges and oaths that we’ve taken to maintain and defend a nation built on the foundation of the highest values: freedom, equality and justice for all. Today we are seeing these ideals wavering. Yet we can still restore America, if we start demanding that crooked politicians and greedy corporations show their allegiance to our sacred principles not only in talk but also through action.

In its time, thousands of years ago, the Ritual of the Red Heifer may have been effective. Today, however, we know that change isn’t brought about by magic and superstition, but rather through our unified and loud voices, and through the power of the vote. Today more than ever it’s up to us to ensure that the sacred bonds that keep this nation united and strong are not shattered by the actions of madmen, misguided judges and weak and corrupt politicians.

The power to restore America and ensure that it lives up to its highest ideals is in our own hands today. We must not fail to use it.

© 2022 by Boaz D. Heilman