Balak

Numbers 22:2-25:9

By Ellen Dannin for Reconstructionist Jewish Communities

A Curse Turned Blessing

I - maybe we - tend to think of Our Story as encapsulated in the exodus from Mitzrayim and the entry into the Promised Land. But our story is more than leaving and arriving. Most of it is the story of living in the desert, of journeying, and of being on the way. And that certainly captures most of my life - and maybe our lives. Just as we want to skip over all those endless details of sacrifices, priestly vestments, sanctuaries, red heifers, and bizarre diseases, so too do we want to skip over or regard as of less interest the minutiae of each day. Between the high points, there is a lot of desert. Yet, can it be that what makes up the bulk of our lives is not worth paying attention to?

This week's parsha has one of the best stories of being on the way - the story of King Balak and Baalam. In fact, we remember this story in each service when we sing "Ma Tovu." This is a story of curses turned into blessings. And, surely, there is nothing more important for us than blessing in living through our personal "desert days."

This is the parsha in which King Balak sent Baalam, the greatest magician in the world, to curse the children of Israel so they would die. The focus is on this action, so for a moment this story obscures the fact that our ancestors were wandering in the desert, gathering the manna, thinking it was just another in a chain of endless days of sameness, completely unaware that disaster was being prepared for them. In fact, maybe they never knew just how close they had come and that they had every reason to make these potentially last moments significant in some way.

Imagine them, down below while Baalam was going up to the mountain top overlooking them. There he was, making the proper sacrifices - seven rams and bullocks on seven altars. There was Baalam, standing above the Israelites, arms outstretched, ready to pronounce the curse. He opened his mouth to say the words of death, the words of power. And . . . for a moment, the words hung there in mid-air. And then the words that were intended to be curses tumbled, down, down, . . . and were transformed . . . and landed as blessings: "Ma tovu ohalecha Yaakov, mishk'notecha, Yisrael." "How good are Jacob's tents and Israel's dwelling places."

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Chukat

Numbers 19:1−22:1 - Rosh Chodesh Tammuz

By Ellen Dannin for Reconstructionist Jewish Communities

The Red Heifer

Nehama Leibowitz says this is one of the most mystifying parts of the Torah, "one of the matters which even the wisdom of the wisest of men failed to fathom." Certainly, you can spend a lot of time just trying to sort out how it works and then even more on what its purpose is. Uncleanliness accompanies the making of the red heifer, its administration and the purpose for its administration, but this uncleanliness is obviously more in the nature of uncanniness -- a sense of confrontation with divine and fundamental mysteries. They system seems almost like a game of tag but with touchbacks allowed. Left unchecked everyone would become unclean -- and today with no red heifer we are all unclean with no chance of ever achieving ritual cleanliness.

When Nehama Leibowitz tackles the question of the purpose of the red heifer ritual, she tells the story of the rational explanation given to a non Jew, that the defilement is a sort of disease of the spirit which the red heifer's ashes cure. But to the Jews she explained that the ashes have no intrinsic curative properties. Rather they are commandments, and following them refines the human soul.

But there is another question easily left unseen amidst these puzzles. Often the purpose for which we do something does not capture its whole effect, how it shapes a society.

So the question left unanswered is what would it be like to live in a society that observed this ritual uncleanliness? In a world of battles, diseases that would carry off the young and infirm, and death in childbirth the chances of becoming unclean on a regular basis would be high. Whoever touches any part of a dead body or a grave or is in the tent of one who dies -- all become unclean for seven days and forever if they do not or can not submit to the ritual of the red heifer. What would this do to a society?

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Korach

Numbers 16:1−18:32

By Rabbi Rabbi Steven Pik-Nathan for Reconstructionist Jewish Communities

Destruction and Creation

This week's Torah portion begins with the rebellions of Korach, Dathan, Aviram and their followers. These three tribal leaders question the authority of Moses and end up being swallowed up by the earth.

The parashah ends with a reminder that the first born of every human being and animal is to be dedicated to God. However, the first born [male] of each human being is to be redeemed by the priests and is replaced by the Levites who are to serve in the Mishkan/Tabernacle and later in the Temple in Jerusalem. The first born of impure (read:unfit) animals are also to be redeemed, but the first born of cattle, sheep and goats are not to be redeemed for they are to be dedicated to God is through their sacrifice on the altar.

As I thought about this parashah, a connection between these two parts became clearer in my mind. What caused this connection to arise in my mind was the concept of opening. In the rebellion narrative the earth 'opens up its mouth' to swallow the rebels. In the latter passage the first born is referred to not simply as the "bechor", which is the common word used for first-born, but as "pe-ter rechem" - the one who opens up the womb.

The image of Korach's demise can be viewed as an instance when the earth - associated within many traditions (including parts of Judaism) as the maternal source of life - opens up its lips to swallow, or destroy, human beings. The image of the first-born is also that of a maternal opening, but in this case, it is to bring life into the world. Though different Hebrew words are used, the image bears a striking similarity, albeit of contradictory concepts.

One image is of destruction and the other is of creation. Yet, an opening that allows the powerful force of the Divine to enter the world causes both to occur. In one instance, this force kills and in the other, it gives birth. In thinking about this the phrase, pe-ter rechem (one that opens the womb) struck me in another way. Though rechem is the word for womb, it is also the root of the word rachamim/compassion. Keeping this in mind, I have retranslated the concept of pe-ter rechem to mean "the opening of compassion." In that case, verse 18:15 would be translated (or interpreted), as "All things that open up compassion to all living creatures shall be yours to bring near to God." It is opening up to the womb-like quality of compassion within all living creatures that brings us near to God. It is our ability to show compassion that elevates us, like an offering, to the realm of godliness.

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Sh'lach L'cha

Sh'lach L'cha, Numbers 13:1−15:41

By Rabbi Rabbi Steven Pik-Nathan for Reconstructionist Jewish Communities

The Reminder of Tzitzit

The parasha this week is Shelah-Lekha. In this parasha Moses, at God's command, chooses one leader from each of the twelve tribes to serve as spies. Their mission is to enter the land of Canaan, the Promised Land, and to bring back a report to the people. "See what kind of country it is..... [investigate its cities, people, soil, and forests and] bring back some of the fruit of the land." They do bring back grapes and other fruits, but ten of the twelve spies also bring back a report that, though the land is flowing "with milk and honey," it is filled with "giants," large fortified cities and other dangerous inhabitants. Only two of the spies, Joshua and Caleb, bring back a positive report reminding the people that God is with them and so they can overcome any obstacle or enemy. Unfortunately, the people are carried away by the report of the majority and wonder why Moses brought them this far out of Egypt in order to die in the desert. As punishment for following the negative report of the ten spies God declares that the Israelites will wander in the desert for forty years until this generation dies. Joshua and Caleb will be the only ones of that generation allowed to enter the land.

The parasha also includes the story of a man who is discovered gathering wood in public on Shabbat and is summarily stoned to death for violating the Shabbat. It concludes with what is later to become the third paragraph of the Shema ("Vayomer") which commands the people to wear tzitzit, fringes, on their garments as a reminder of the covenant with God and to prevent them from going astray after other gods or the "lusts of their hearts."

At first glance it would not seem that there is much to connect these three sections of the parasha. However, I believe that there is. Following the story of the man stoned for breaking Shabbat with the commandment to wear tzitzit teaches us that if we do not have something to constantly remind us of our commitment to God and the mitzvot we may end up as did the man gathering wood. In addition, a large part of the his sin was that the man was gathering wood in public. Judaism has a long history of various transgressions which are considered more serious if they are performed in public. One reason for this is that each of us is meant to serve as an example to our fellow Jews, and our fellow human beings. We are each responsible for one another. If someone blatantly transgresses a law in public others may assume that it is permissible to do so. After all, if so-and-so can do it, why can't I?

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B'haalot'cha

Numbers 8:1−12:16

By Rabbi Rabbi Steven Pik-Nathan for Reconstructionist Jewish Communities

Miriam

This week's parasha is Beha'aloteha One of the most fascinating, but often forgotten, parts of this narrative involves Moses and his siblings Aaron and Miriam.

We read in Chapter 12, verse 1 that "Miriam and Aaron spoke against Moses because of the Cushite woman whom he had married; for he had married a Cushite woman." Before we find out who this Cushite woman was (Cush refers
today to Ethiopia, but his wife Tzipporah was a Midianite. Does this refer to Tzipporah or did Moses have a second wife?) the text then tells us that Aaron and Miriam complain "Has Adonai spoken only through Moses? Has God not spoken through us as well?" And so it would seem that the siblings have two complaints against Moses, the first having to do with his wife (whoever she might be) and the second with their roles as prophets in Israel.

Miriam is referred to only five times in the Torah, and this is the most detailed narrative involving her. She is referred to as a prophet and yet little is known about her in the Torah. God responds later in the parasha to Miriam and Aaron that Moses' prophetic ability is different from theirs -- or that of any prophet to follow -- for God and Moses speak "peh el peh" mouth to mouth. This does not negate Miriam's prophetic status, but merely distinguishes that of her baby brother Moses.

What occurs after God responds angrily to Miriam and Aaron is that Miriam is stricken with tza'arat, a skin affliction, and is sent out of the camp for seven days until she recovers. We are told that the people wait for her recovery before continuing on their journey.

Rabbi Ruth Sohn, in her commentary in The Women's Torah Commentary discusses the role of Miriam in Jewish tradition. In her lengthy treatment of this issue it becomes clear that there was most likely a much stronger Miriam tradition in which she played a much greater role as prophet and leader.

What remains in the Torah are fragments of this tradition -- and how ironic (or is it) that the largest fragment involves her chastisement and punishment by God (while nothing at all happens to Aaron, who had also complained).

Luckily, traditional midrash fills in the gaps for us and creates a Miriam who speaks, prophesies, advises and has a "real life." The midrashim on this particular passage are fascinating, especially since we can assume that they were written by male rabbis approximately two millennia ago!

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