Tag Archives: Trust

Devarim, Deuteronomy 1:1-3:22

Devarim, , , ,
Link to Parsha: http://www.hebcal.com/sedrot/devarim

History and Memory

By Rabbi Marc Saperstein

After a five-verse introduction, this entire parashah is presented as a speech by Moses addressed to the Israelite people not long before his death. The content of this oration is a historical overview of events experienced by the listeners or their parents, beginning after the Revelation at Sinai and continuing to the present. The events have already been narrated in earlier books of the Torah, but there are subtle shifts that make this not simple repetition. If the original narratives are a source of history, this oration is evidence for historical memory. I would like to illustrate by focusing on one passage, relating to Sihon the Amorite, king of Heshbon.

The original narrative comes in parashat Hukkat, Numbers 21:21–25. The facts seem straightforward. Israel sent messengers to Sihon asking for permission to pass through his territory, promising not to despoil any of the agricultural produce of the land. Sihon refused, gathered a military force and challenged the Israelites in the wilderness. The Israelites won a decisive victory and took possession of all the Amorite lands. There is no mention of God in this narrative; it is presented as simple reporting of a political decision, a military encounter, and the geographical and demographic consequences.

How different is Moses’ more expansive recounting of the same events in Deuteronomy 2:24–37. It begins with Moses’ report of a message delivered to him by God:

See, I give unto your power Sihon the Amorite, king of Heshbon, and his land. Begin the occupation: engage him in battle. This day I begin to put the dread and fear of you upon the peoples everywhere under the heaven, so that they shall tremble and quake because of you whenever they hear you mentioned (Deut. 2:24–25).

In this version, the military encounter with Sihon was a divine command, intended to enhance the prestige of the Israelites in the consciousness of the surrounding peoples. In the following verses, God is never absent for long: He has given the land of Canaan to the Israelites (2:29), He hardened the heart of Sihon to refuse passage (2: 30), He urges Moses again to take possession of the Amorite lands (2:33), He causes the defeat of Sihon and his forces (2:35) including all the significant towns (2:36), His commandment to respect the borders of the neighboring Ammonites was respected (2:37).

Thus we have two accounts of the same events: one in which human decisions and military factors are decisive, the other—perhaps in retrospect—with a thick theological overlay, making God responsible for all that has happened. Many believers will think of the second version as preferable, more pious. Some of us may prefer the more secular narrative of Numbers, without casting God as a global puppeteer, controlling human decisions, the outcome of battles, and the supplanting of a native population.

There is a twist in our parashah, however. After the report of the initial instructions from God to “engage [Sihon] in battle” cited above, Moses continues with the following verse, “And I sent messengers from the wilderness of Kedemoth to King Sihon of Heshbon with an offer of peace, as follows…,” namely, the proposal in Numbers 21, including an offer (not mentioned in Numbers) of repayment for anything eaten by the Israelites. God instructs Moses to engage Sihon in battle (2:24), and Moses responds by sending Sihon divrei shalom (2:26). Was Moses violating God’s instruction? This is something that the Sages and medieval commentators, who take such details seriously, are bound to explain. 

Nachmanides explains that the verses come out of order. It is as if Moses had used the pluperfect, referring to what preceded the divine command to engage in battle: “I had (previously) sent messengers with . . . an offer of peace,” which was rejected by Sihon. Other commentators suggest that this message of peace was itself the result of an unrecorded instruction from God to Moses. Don Isaac Abravanel, whose monumental biblical commentaries written before and after 1492 summarize much of the culture of Sefardi Jewry, was not convinced: “I have found no evidence” for such a separate communication.

Instead, Abravanel insists that this peace offering was indeed a diversion from God’s instruction—which was actually to find an excuse to go to war with Sihon—and it came at Moses’ own initiative, in order to communicate to the other nations that there is a real alternative to warfare. If there is an option for a peaceful resolution of a potentially violent conflict, it is worth taking the initiative even in violation of God’s direct command.

This would be a lovely message about the Jewish love for peace. But here too there is wrinkle. Numbers 31 of parashat Mattot begins with a divine command to “Avenge the children of Israel against the Midianites.” But then it is Moses who berates the victorious Israelite army for allowing the women and children to live, and orders his soldiers to kill every male, including children, and all mature women (Num. 31:15–18). Here Moses seems to be pushing God’s command in the direction not of peaceful co-existence but of a kind of violence that is horrifying to imagine.

Two ostensible conclusions. First, that we must be extremely careful about attributing divine sanction for anything relating to war, even when reading a biblical text. And second, that it is irresponsible to generalize about Judaism—or Christianity or Islam—as a religion either of peace or of violence. That Moses can be depicted in our parashah as taking the initiative for peace in apparent deviation from God’s instructions, yet in Numbers as ordering a genocidal massacre not explicitly sanctioned by God, reveals the complexity of our biblical literature in its teachings about war and violence, with a dark side along with its stirring visions of world peace. It is for us to choose which of these elements we will live by.

Saperstein, Marc. "Parashat Dearim." Leo Baeck College Weekly D'Var Torah. (Viewed August 2, 2014). http://www.lbc.ac.uk/201108041485/Weekly-D-var-Torah/parashat-devarim.html

Personal Exile

By Rae Hendriksz

In this week’s portion, we find Moses speaking to the Israelites before crossing the
border into their new land. After forty years of living in the desert in exile, the Israelites
have been led to the land of Canaan. Before they enter Canaan, Moses pauses to recall
significant events that have shaped the community before him.

During the four decades of wandering the wilderness, the Jewish people confronted a
variety of challenges; some so great they faced complete obliteration. They did not have
any knowledge about what they would face in the coming months and years. Through
all of these trials, Moses asked them to keep their faith in God. He encouraged them to
trust that God would protect them and at the right moment, would guide them to their
land. When the Israelites happen upon potential enemies, Moses encouraged them to
exercise self-discipline. Moses says:

Have no dread or fear of them. None other than God, who goes before you, will
fight for you, just as God did for you in Egypt before your very eyes, and in the
wilderness, where you saw how the Eternal your God carried you, as a parent
carries their child, all the way that you traveled until you came to this place. Yet
for all that, you have no faith in God, who goes before you on your journeys — to
scout the place where you are to encamp — in fire by night and in cloud by day,
in order to guide you on the route you are to follow. (1:29-33)

The Israelites did not always find it easy to retain their patience and trust in God in the
face of potential enemies or the hardships of their long years in the wilderness.

Exile can take many forms, both for whole peoples and in each of our lives. We may
feel alone and alienated from relatives or friends for a variety of reasons. Perhaps we
feel we feel distant from our family or community because of differences in the way we
live our lives. Perhaps we have selected a form of banishment for ourselves and chosen
to be alone. We may feel disconnected from ourselves or our previously-strong roots, as
though we are wandering in the desert, waiting for guidance to point us in a direction.
We may feel complete overwhelmed by an obscure future that we predict will be filled
with discomfort.

When we face exile in our own lives, whether self-imposed or forced, nourishing a trust
in anything, much less God, may seem difficult or even impossible. If we are struggling
with an illness or in the midst of a difficult time in our lives, we may feel isolated and
alone. We may face similar feelings of fear about being annihilated or terrified of an
unknown future. The fear of the unknown is often greater than its actualization. How do we encourage and cultivate any trust during these moments of felt exile?

There is a common yet mistaken myth that envisions a one-way trajectory away from
Exodus to Promised Land, from alienation toward community, and from disbelief or
doubt to trust. However, Jewish literature repeatedly affirms that these feelings do not
evolve automatically from one to the next and do not remain static. The tides of exile
and trust – the ebb and flow of hope and despair remain a consistent part our lives.

Just as the Israelites had no knowledge of the future that lay before them, we face life
without knowledge of what upcoming minutes, hours, months or years will hold. Some
time ago Rabbi Aliza Berk shared with me a Hebrew saying that sobers the joyous and
encourages the sad. This too shall pass is a powerful reminder that life’s moments are
fleeting and dynamic and change over time. It prompts us to take stock of the present
moment, and to remain open to a different future. The ancient Israelites had hope that
their time in exile would at some point end, and that one day they would live in a land
they could call their own.

Hendriksz, Rae. "Torah Reflections on Parashat Devarim." The Jewish Healing Center. (Viewed on August 2, 2014). http://www.jewishhealingcenter.org/TRs/Devarim_09.pdf

Chukat, Numbers 19:1-22:1

Chukat, , , ,
Link to Parsha: http://www.hebcal.com/sedrot/chukat

Dvar Tzedek

By Rabbi Rachel Kahn-Troster

As the Israelites wind down their adventures in the desert and prepare to enter the Promised Land as a free generation, they must again confront their faith in God’s ability to protect and provide for them. At the heart of Parashat Chukkat is the puzzling episode of Moses and the rock that yields water. Through Moses and the costly mistake that he makes, this parashah teaches us the proper way to express trust in God. The challenges that Moses and the Israelites face in finding the right way to engage in and express their belief in God challenge us to think about the ways we demonstrate commitment to our values in the public sphere.

In this episode, the people complain of thirst and of feeling abandoned by God. Moses is commanded by God to assemble the people and to order a specific rock to yield water. This is constructed as a highly visible spectacle: God specifies that the miracle must take place l’ayneihem, before the very eyes of the people. Instead of immediately obeying God’s commandment and speaking confidently to the rock—showcasing the miraculous benevolence of the Divine—Moses chastises the people and asks, “Will we get water for you from this rock?!” This question shifts the focus away from God to God’s human agents, and does so in an exceedingly public forum. Moses proceeds to hit the rock, making it appear that he is the cause of the water that gushes forth. The desired immediate result—salvation from thirst—is achieved, but the theological goal—demonstrating God’s power to the people—is not. God’s rebuke to Moses, that he “did not trust Me enough to affirm my sanctity in the sight of the Israelite people,” emphasizes that through his public outburst Moses squanders an opportunity to reinforce the faith of the people and inspire them to trust in God.

A midrash notes that Moses had doubted and challenged God prior to this episode, but until now had done so only in private and therefore without censure. The confrontation at the rock, however, is impossible for God to overlook. Moses is punished not for lacking personal faith, but for not inspiring faith in the Israelites. Here, Moses allows the Israelites to see the cracks and fissures in his own faith in God. This weakness is reflected in the Israelites’ future poor behavior and outbursts against God. Indeed, later in the parashah, the people complain again about the difficulty of life in the desert. They have not learned to trust in God.

This passage suggests that our public actions, ones in which we commit our names and our reputations, can have significant impact, and that they need to be constructive in order to be effective. As social justice activists we need the courage to declare the importance of bringing justice to the world. Learning from Moses, we should make sure that our declarations are positive, have substance and invite participation. We must project and inspire confidence. We must speak to the rock.

Yet, much of what passes for “action” or activism today is superficial, even though in this age of Google it sometimes seems like nothing is private and that everything we do—from the petitions we sign to the donations we make—is part of the public record forever. We go onto Facebook and become fans of many different causes with a few mouse clicks. We wear a T-shirt with a cute slogan or slap on a bumper sticker. These forms of discourse are public but they are shallow. A public display with little to back it up is not that different from Moses’s outburst in the desert. It may deliver water, but does not inspire larger, more lasting results or change the consciousness of our audience.

To truly make a difference, we have to be willing to engage our values in public in a way that has meaning. We can call or write to our elected officials. We can attend a rally or a speech, and text our friends to join us there. We can write a letter to the editor or an op-ed. When we make donations to causes we believe in, we can allow those organizations to use our names in their lists of supporters. Or we can take a real risk with our Facebook friends and online followers, and actively engage them in an in-person conversation about the causes we believe in. Real engagement requires more than a mouse click.

We need to take up the challenge given to Moses by God to sanctify God’s name publicly and in a substantive way. There is real risk involved in taking a confident stand in the sight of others, but there are also real rewards.

Kahn-Troster, Rachel. "Dvar Tzedek 5774." American Jewish World Service. (Viewed on June 28, 2014). http://ajws.org/what_we_do/education/publications/dvar_tzedek/5774/chukkat.html

Miriam – Water Under the Bridge?

By Rabbi Bradley Artson

Careers of public figures take on a life of their own, ebbing and flowing with shifts in public opinion and the latest values.

One Jewish figure whose popularity is at an all-time high is the prophet Miriam, the sister of Moses and Aaron.

While featured prominently in the Torah, Miriam’s claim to fame always paled in the face of her more visible brothers. After all, Aaron was the first Kohen Gadol (high priest), the link between the Jewish people and their religion, and Moses was the intimate friend of God, transmitting sacred teachings to the people.

Compared to those two leaders, Miriam simply faded into the background. True, we celebrate her beautiful song at the shores of the Red Sea, but even that poem is overshadowed by Moses’ far-lengthier song. Today, Miriam’s fame rests less on any specific accomplishment and more on the fact that she was a woman.

miriam bible

Three thousand years ago–and in most parts of the world even today–being a woman was itself disqualification from public recognition or accomplishment. With so few female heroes, Miriam stands out precisely because we are now more sensitive to just how difficult it is for a woman to gain public recognition. Today’s parasha comments on the death of this prophet, that “Miriam died there and was buried there, and the community was without water.”

Rashi (11th Century, France) noticed the strange juxtaposition of Miriam’s death and the shortage of water, and assumed that there must be a connection between the two. “From this we learn that all forty years, they had a well because of the merit of Miriam.” Miriam’s Well entered the realm of Midrash as testimony to the greatness of this unique leader.

As the Jews wandered through the wilderness, lacking adequate water would have been fatal. However, the power of Miriam’s integrity, piety and caring was such that God provided a moving well of water, one which followed the people throughout their wanderings until the moment of her death. Without Miriam, there was no more water.

Miriam’s place in Jewish legend points to two lessons we can carry with us through our own personal wildernesses. While male prophets emphasize the power of words, the centrality of rules of conduct, of sanctity and of justice, Miriam’s prophecy was one of deed. Rather than stirring speeches or administration of justice, Miriam focused on teaching her people how to sing in moments of joy, and she saw to their sustenance during their period of exposure and fragility.

Miriam’s example, paralleled by countless women after her, is one of action–deeds of love and support. Without Miriam’s efforts, no one would have been able to listen to the words of Moses or to study God’s Torah. Acts of caring and love–that is the special gift that women give humanity. Notice, also, that no one comments on her well, on how important and valued her contribution is until after she has died.

The tragic reality is that for most women, after-the-fact recognition is often the only kind that is given. The women who work in the homes raising children, the women who work in the schools teaching students, the women who work in hospitals tending the sick, these and countless other women perform the difficult, tedious tasks that sustain and make human life possible.

While medallions and press releases accompany the splashier achievements of some men, many women quietly provide wells of nurturing and support without public attention or commendation. Only when they are no longer able to serve are their services noticed, and then only because they are missed. Why didn’t anyone notice Miriam’s well while she was still alive?

It may be too late to change Miriam’s status among her own generation, although many Jewish men and women are now, belatedly, giving her the prominence that her compassion and nurturing deserve. But it is not too late for our generation to re-examine its own values and heroes today.

Do we sufficiently honor those whose contribution is quiet support of others? Do we still relegate such vital care to one specific group, or have we each undertaken to make ourselves not only disciples of Aaron, not only children of Moses, but also personifications of Miriam–using our hands and hearts, just as she did, to irrigate the lives of our people and of all people?

Artson, Bradley. "Miriam - Water Under the Bridge?" MyJewishLearning.com. (Viewed on June 28, 2014). http://www.myjewishlearning.com/texts/Bible/Weekly_Torah_Portion/hukkat_artson5762.shtml?p=0