PARSHAT HUKKAT

(5768)

 

A RED COW?

“This is the ritual law that the Lord has commanded, Instruct the Israelite people to bring a red cow without blemish, in which there is no defect and on which no yoke has been laid.”                                                                                         (Numbers 19:2)                                                                                                                                   

            This week I drove to Bradenton on the west coast of Florida to help my son move out of his apartment.  (He is relocating to Boston.)   Being bored with the interstate, I decided to drive on back country roads.   I must have driven through cow country.  I saw hundreds of cows and was impressed with the variety of colors I saw.  There were light brown and dark brown and every shade in between; there were white and black and various combinations.

            I did not see a purple cow.  The ditty my mother taught me when I was young still holds:

                        I never saw a purple cow, I never hope to see one.

                        But I can tell you anyhow, I’d rather see than be one.

I also did not see a red cow.  Had I seen a red cow, I might have stopped and tried to buy it.  For based on this week’s Torah reading, a red cow would be quite valuable.

            The ashes of a red cow are a requirement for ritual purification.   Someone who becomes ritually impure could become purified through a detailed ritual using the ashes of a red cow.  Only following this purification could they reenter the area of the ancient Temple in Jerusalem.  If we ever want to rebuild our Temple in Jerusalem, we first need to find a red cow.  So I kept my eyes open on the back country roads north of Lake Okeechobee. 

            Why would such a strange law be in the Torah?   The Midrash tells the story of an idolater who came to Rabbi Johanan ben Zakkai questioning this law.  “These rites you perform look like a kind of witchcraft.  You bring a heifer, burn it, pound it, and take its ashes.  If one of you is defiled by a dead body you sprinkle upon him two or three drops and you say to him, you are clean.”  R. Johanan ben Zakkai replied to the idolater, “What do you do when someone is possessed by a demon of madness.”  “We bring roots and make them smoke under him, then we sprinkle water upon the demon so it flees.”  R. Johanan explained that the Israelites do the same.  The idolater was satisfied and left.  Then his students asked, “Master, you put the idolater off with a mere makeshift answer.  How do you explain it to us?”  R. Johanan replied in a famous reply, “It is neither the dead that defiles nor the water that purifies.  I have issued a decree and you may not transgress my decree.”  (Numbers Rabbah 19:8)   

            There are three different kinds of laws in the Torah.  There are mishpatim, literally judgments, laws we can know rationally.  We do not need a Torah to tell us that murder, adultery, and stealing are wrong.  Then there are edut, literally testimonies, laws where we bear witness to some religious truth.  We keep the Sabbath to bear witness to God’s creation of the world, observe Passover to bear witness to the exodus from Egypt, and build a sukkah to bear witness to God’s sustaining power in the wilderness.

            Finally there are hukkot, often translated statues or degrees but from a Hebrew root meaning engraved.  The law of the red cow is one of these statutes.  These are laws that are written and which we follow not for any logical reason but out of a sense of commitment.  To some extent, perhaps these are some of the most important laws.  To quote the new Etz Hayim commentary, “It is more praiseworthy to do something solely because God commands it than because our own logic or sense of morality leads to the same conclusion.”  (Sifra K’dodshim)   The Tosafot compare this commandment to a lover’s kiss which cannot be explained but can only be experienced.  (Avodah Zara 35a)”

            Perhaps the lesson for us moderns is that in every relationship there are things we do, even if they are not logical or easy to explain.  Love is about commitments that we make because the one we love desires those commitments.  We may not understand them; we cannot explain them.  They may not be logical.  But as Blaise Pascal famously wrote, “The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing.”

 

 

PARSHAT BALAK

(5768)

 

A TRUE STORY

“Then the Lord opened the ass’s mouth and she said to Balaam, what have I done to you that you have beaten me those three times.”                                          (Numbers 22:28)

 

            Let me begin with a true story that happened last Sunday afternoon.  I was performing a wedding down in Coral Gables, a neighborhood south of downtown Miami.  The family had made arrangements for a driver to bring the grandmother of the groom, a frail older woman.  And she was running late.  Suddenly they received a desperate call; the driver was totally lost.  I got on the phone to try to steer her in the right direction.

            The driver had somehow wandered onto Miami Beach.  (For those who do not live in this area, it is more than a half hour in the wrong direction.)  I tried to guide the driver back to the wedding but she somehow could not find the way.  The next call I received was from Miami airport, a half hour in still another wrong direction.  The wedding was starting soon.  I told the driver, get off the highway and find somebody who can point you the right way.

            What happened next reaffirmed my faith in humanity.  The driver went up to total strangers and desperately asked for help.  The strangers said, “Follow us.”  Then these strangers led them on a half hour drive in the right direction, making it to the synagogue just in time.  They drove away before anyone could get their name.  But with the price of gas and everything else, some people took the time to lead an elderly lady to her grandson’s wedding.

            I did not find out the details of the story to later, or I might have said something under the huppah (wedding canopy).  In general, when I speak to a bride and groom I try to share some thoughts on the true meaning of love.  Love means the ability to see another in need and set aside one’s own needs to help the other.  I tell every bride and groom to look at each other and commit to putting their own needs, wants, and demands aside to help the other.  We cannot love another until we diminish ourselves.  Here was the perfect example – total strangers prepared to set aside their own needs to help another person in trouble.

            I believe this ability to love is what sets us humans above the animal world.  When I teach these ideas to children, I ask them, “How many of you have a dog?”  Most raise their hands.  “How many of you love your dog?”  Again most raise their hands.  Then I ask, “Does your dog love you?”   More slowly they raise their hands.  Then I describe my own dog.  “I put him out early every morning before my wife wakes up.  Often he starts barking at my neighbor’s cat.  He wakes my wife up.  Does that mean my dog does not love my wife?”  Of course the answer is that dogs love as animals love.   Humans love on a higher level.  Humans can really see the needs of the other and set aside their own desires to love the other.

            This week’s portion speaks of a talking donkey.  Balaam was on a mission to curse the Israelites.  He accepted the mission, although against God’s will, after receiving a substantial bribe.  Balaam was forced to stop when his donkey saw an angel blocking the roadway.  When Balaam hit him three times, the donkey finally spoke back.  “What have I done to you that you have beaten me those three times?”  

Many question whether this story is true or some kind of dream.   I see it as a parable, somewhat like one of Aesop’s fables.  The animal had better insight than the man.  An animal was able to see something to which a human being was blind.  The animal had reached a higher level of wisdom and insight than the human.  The story is not about how wonderful the donkey was but how weak the man was.  The human not only could not rise above the animal; he was far lower.  He could not see the other.

            It is easy to live life on the animal level.  We see ourselves and our own needs and fail to see the other.  If someone truly needs help, we try to avoid them.   The question is, how can we build a world where it is the norm for people to put aside their needs for those of the other?  How can we build a world where it is no surprise that strangers would make sure an elderly woman arrived at her grandson’s wedding?   That is a world worth striving for.

           

 

 

PARSHAT HUKKAT

 (5767)

 

BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH

 

“And the Lord spoke to Moses and to Aaron, saying, This is the ordinance of the Torah which the Lord has commanded, saying, Speak to the people of Israel, that they bring you a red heifer without spot, which has no blemish, and upon which never came yoke.”                                                                          (Numbers 19:1-2)

 

            There is a sad but powerful scene in the Biblical story of King David.  God punishes David for his adultery with Batsheva and the murder of Batsheva’s husband Uriah.  The son they had conceived will die.  The son becomes ill, and David fasts and prays for him.  But once the son dies, David changes his clothes, anoints his head with oil, and eats once again.  The servants ask him why he was eating now that the child was dead.  His answer contains both tragedy and wisdom.  “While the child was yet alive, I fasted and wept; for I said, Who can tell whether God will be gracious to me, that the child may live?   But now he is dead, why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.”  (II Samuel 12:22-23)

            With this story comes a powerful Biblical lesson – the total separation of life and death.  Life is for the living.  We mourn the dead, but we do not create a cult of death.  The ancient Egyptians priests built pyramids as tombs to their dead Pharaohs.  Jewish priests, the kohanim, on the contrary, are forbidden from setting foot in a cemetery or attending a funeral (with the exception of certain immediate relatives.)  The Bible is about how to live in this world, not about how to prepare for the next.  That is why David eats following the loss of his child.  And that is why, according to Jewish funeral practices, the first act a mourner does upon returning home from a burial, following washing hands and lighting a candle, is to eat a meal.  Eating reaffirms life in the face of death.

            This week’s portion speaks of a very strange ritual of purification.  A person who has been in the presence of death cannot reenter the holy Temple without this rite of purification.  A red cow without blemish was sacrificed and its ashes mixed with certain plants.  The mixture was then poured upon the person who had become impure.  The reason behind this strange ritual is lost in antiquity.  But the idea is clear.  After being touched by death, a person must purify himself or herself in preparation to reenter the living.  For similar reasons, Jewish mourners walk around the block to leave the state of mourning and reenter the world.  We are not to organize a cult of death but find ways to reestablish life for the living.  Religion is to be lived in this world.

            When non-Jews approach me about Judaism, one of the first questions they ask me is, “What does Judaism believe happens to us when we die?”  My answer is that Judaism is deliberately vague about this question.  The soul does return to God, but what that means is not spelled out.  The clear vision of heaven and hell of Christian tradition is lacking in Judaism.  No Jew could have written Dante’s Inferno.  For the key issue of the Rabbis was how to live in this world.

            The separation of life and death is built into the very nature of the rituals of Judaism.  Let me share a few examples.  Traditional Jews will not mix milk and meat.  The Torah teaches this law without giving a reason.  Perhaps we can say that meat symbolizes death – the flesh of the animal.  Milk symbolizes life – the source of sustenance which mother passes on to the child.  So we separate death from life.  (Sorry to those who love cheeseburgers.)

            Traditional Jews practice the laws of family purity, faithfully observed in the Orthodox community and coming back into the non-Orthodox community.  A husband and wife separate and avoid marital relations following the menses.  Then the wife immerses in a mikvah or ritual bath, and the couple comes back together.  The menses represents death, a potential life not born.  The mikvah represents life, water is the source of life.

            We have already spoken of the laws forbidden priests from entering a cemetery.  All of these laws point in the same direction, the total separation of life and death.  And as the Torah teaches, the laws were given so we may “live by them.”

 

PARSHAT BALAK

 (5767)

 

TALK TO THE ANIMALS

 

“And the Lord opened the mouth of the ass, and it said to Balaam, What have I done to you, that you have struck me these three times?”

                                                                        (Numbers 22:28)

 

            At night before I go to bed I usually read non-fiction, especially since I began my PhD studies.  If I want to enjoy a good novel, I find it useful to check books on CD out of the library and listen as I drive from place to place.  This is how I recently enjoyed Yann Martel’s award winning story Life of Pi.   Martel’s sixteen year old Indian boy who wanted to be a Hindu, Christian, and Moslem at the same time became my companion in my car.

            Martel’s novel tells the story of a teenage boy who is the only human survivor of a shipwreck.  He ends up on a life boat for over two hundred days with a full grown, male Bengal tiger (and a few other animals but they don’t last long.)  The story tells how he learns to communicate with the tiger and survive.  The book is filled with fascinating insights into how animals think and communicate, what we humans share and how we differ from the animal kingdom.

            As I listened to the story I thought about this week’s portion and the story of the donkey who spoke back to Balaam.  Most commentators worry whether the story is true of merely a dream or illusion.  In my mind that is not the important question.  The important issue is how an animal is able to communicate more wisdom and insight than a human being.  Balaam may be a prophet, but at this moment he is unable to see what his own donkey sees.  He must learn wisdom from a mere animal.

            In another book Dr. Doolittle was able to able to talk to the animals.  In real life we humans have been given a gift which has helped us rise above any other species in the animal kingdom in our understanding.  Speech gives us a wisdom which those who cannot speak lack.   Scientists have debated whether the development of the ability to speak caused humans to evolve to a higher level of understanding, or whether a higher level of understanding caused speech to develop.  It is a classic chicken and egg scenario.  Somehow, the ability of speech gave us humans a wisdom which a Bengal tiger or a mere donkey lacks.  Speech is the gift that raises us up.

            Those who read these weekly messages know that one of my favorite themes is how humans need to rise above the animal kingdom.  We humans have an intrinsic holiness that other creatures lack.  An important part of that holiness is the ability to see the world through the eyes of others, to understand and empathize with them.  Part of Pi’s difficulty in the book was getting the tiger to understand that the survival of both of them was in Pi’s hands.   If the tiger attacked him, the tiger would lose his source of food and water.  But tigers do not naturally empathize with others; only humans do.

            In this portion Balaam lost this ability to empathize with others.  When Balaam agreed to curse the Israelites, all he saw were dollar signs (or probably more accurately, shekel signs.)   He was going to use the gift that makes us human, the power of speech, to undermine his fellow humans.  Last time humans misused their powers to behave unethically, at the Tower of Babel, God confounded their speech.  By losing their ability to communicate, they lost a precious part of their humanity.

            The philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein speaks about Language Games, the shared thinking and assumptions that allow humans to communicate with one another.   Without such shared language we humans would speak right past each other.  Wittgenstein calls it a game because unless there is a shared meaning, communication is lost.  It would be as if two people were sitting at a chess board, one playing chess and the other just moving pieces randomly around.   Things would quickly fall apart.

            We humans have the ability to communicate and understand each other.  Unless we use that sacred ability, we become like Balaam, where even a donkey has better understanding.

 

 

 

PARSHAT HUKAT – BALAK

 (5766)

ARGUMENTS CONTINUED

 

“Come then, put a curse upon this people for me, since they are too numerous for me; perhaps I can thus defeat them and drive them out of the land.  For I know that he whom you bless is blessed indeed, and he whom you curse is cursed.”

                                                                                    (Numbers 22:6)

 

            This week I want to continue with a theme I began last week.  How do we argue?  Last week I wrote that there are arguments in the name of heaven such as those between the schools of Hillel and Shammai.  But unfortunately, there are also arguments not in the name of heaven such as that between Korach and Moses.  This week in the story of Balaam and his attempt to curse the Israelites, we learn that words have power.  How we use our words in an argument can build or they can destroy.

            Last week I also wrote about Rabbi Johanan’s deep regret when his brother-in-law and partner in argument Reish Lakish died.  “Resh Lakish used to raise twenty-four objections, to which I gave twenty-four answers, which consequently led to a fuller comprehension of the law.” (Baba Metzia 84a)  This is perhaps the best example of the importance the Rabbis of the Talmud put in a good argument.  However, last week I did not tell the entire story.

            The great rabbi Reish Lakish actually began life as a gladiator who tried to rob Rabbi Johanan.  Rabbi Johanan, known for his piety and beauty, told him, “Your strength should be used for Torah.”  Reish Lakish responded, “Your beauty should be used for women.”  Rabbi Johanan responded, “If you think I am beautiful, wait until you meet my sister, who is more beautiful than me.  Come learn with me, dedicate yourself to a life of study, and I will introduce you to her.”  That is how Reish Lakish became Rabbi Johanan’s brother-in-law and partner in argument.

            Everything was fine for years, until one day they began arguing an obscure point of Jewish law, the ritual purity of certain weapons.  Rabbi Johanan shouted out in exasperation, “A thief knows his trade.”  An argument ensued and the two men stopped talking for the rest of their lives.  What began as an argument over a point of Jewish law turned into a bitter personal argument leading to estrangement.  Both men were too proud to open the door and ask for forgiveness, until it Reish Lakish died and it was too late.

            It is inevitable that human beings argue.  Spouses argue, parents and children argue, siblings argue, co-workers argue, and of course, rabbis argue with congregants.  The great Rabbi Israel Salanter, the founder of the Musar (ethics) Movement in Judaism, once taught, “Any rabbi whose congregation always agrees with him is not really a rabbi, but any rabbi whose congregation never agrees with him is not really a mensch.”  I have often taken great comfort in that saying.

            How ought we to argue?  Allow me to share three pieces of wisdom.  The first is that anyone in the heat of an argument needs to step back and do some soul searching.  “Am I really arguing because I disagree over some point with this other person?  Or is this argument really about power?”   It was the French social historian Michel Foucault who taught that all discourse is really about power – who has power and who wants power.  For example, if you are arguing with your spouse about a teenage child’s curfew, is it a true disagreement?  Or are you really trying to assert your power as the final authority when it comes to parenting?  If your arguments are really about power, it is time to step back.

            The second point is, has the argument becomes personal?  R. Johanan’s words “A thief knows his trade” changed the discourse from an argument about Jewish law to a personal attack.  Again, using the example of a teen’s curfew, do you use words like “You are always too loose as a parent,” or “You are always too strict as a parent.”  When arguments become personal attacks, again it is time to step back.

            The third point depends on the type of argument.  If the argument is how to make peace in the Middle East, there is no resolution.  But if the argument is over a teen’s curfew, there has to be a resolution.  Is there room for compromise?  Can both sides give in a little and find some middle ground?  This is the reason that I am a believer in mediation.  Mediation is often the path to compromise.

            How can we make our arguments for the sake of heaven?  Hopefully these three rules can serve as guides.

 

 

PARSHAT HUKKAT

 (5764)

 

EULOGY FOR MIRIAM

 

"The Israelites arrived in a body at the wilderness of Zin on the first new moon, and the people stayed at Kadesh.  Miriam died there are was buried there."

(Numbers 20:1)

 

We are gathered here to say goodbye to Miriam the prophetess.  Yes she was the big sister of two great leaders, Aaron and Moses.  But her greatness was not simply her family connection.  Miriam was a leader in her own right.

Who can forget that moment after the crossing of the Reed Sea.  Moses was leading all the men in song.  Miriam believe that celebrations were not only for the men.  She took her tambourine, brought all the women to one side, and led the women in song and dance.  She was the first female cantor.  And the joy in her voice still reverberates some forty years later.

Most of us know that Miriam was there for Moses when his mother first put him in a basket and sent him floating down the Nile River.  She followed the baby and watched as Pharaoh's daughter drew him from the river, and she was the one who brought Moses' real mother to be the wet nurse.  She had a key role in assuring that Moses was raised aware of his people and their suffering.

What few people know is that, if it were not for the big sister Miriam, Moses would never have been born.  When Pharaoh decreed that all male babies should thrown into the river, Moses' parents separated.  They would not risk having a male baby.  Following their lead, all the Israelites separated.  No new babies would be born among the Israelites.  None, until a precocious little girl named Miriam challenged her parents.

Miriam told her father, Pharaoh only decreed against the males, but you are making sure no males or females are born.  Pharaoh's decree can be overturned at any time, but your decree is forever.  And with her words, Miriam convinced her parents to come back together.  As a result of her wisdom, baby Moses, the rescuer of our people, was born.  (Sota 12a)

Miriam was a wonderful older sister to two brothers, Aaron and Moses.  Of course, there was one difficult moment that we must mention.  Miriam spoke out against her brother Moses regarding the dark skinned woman he had married.  As a result of her words, she broke out into leprosy.  Who could forget the poignant moment when Moses cried out regarding his sister, "O God, pray heal her."  Why would Miriam have spoken against her brother regarding his wife?

Perhaps here too, there is an answer.  Moses was a wonderful lawgiver, but he was a less successful as a husband.  Perhaps Miriam spoke out because she believed her brother was neglecting his wife.  Perhaps Miriam=s words were based on the true empathy of one woman for another.  Her words were an attempt to get her brother to spend more time with his wife.  Even when she erred, she did so out of love and concern for a fellow woman.

But perhaps the greatest achievement of Miriam was how she supplied water for the Israelites during their forty years of wandering through the wilderness.  No one knows how she managed this miraculous feat.  Some say she had a secret well of water that magically traveled with her throughout the wanderings.   We only know that when she was alive, there was always enough water to drink.  Now that she is gone, the Israelites are suddenly crying out for water.

The water is a powerful symbol of Miriam as a woman and a leader.  Her greatest gift was to sustain the people.  One brother gave the law, one brother was the High Priest, but Miriam provided physical sustenance.  Without her there would be no law and no cult, for we would have died of thirst in the desert.  And so she was a role model for women throughout the generations, the ones that without fanfare but with love, provided sustenance for their families.

PARSHAT BALAK

 (5761)

 

CONTROLLING GREED

 

AThey came to Balaam and said to him, Thus says Balak son of Zippor, please do not refuse to come to me.  I will reward you richly and I will do anything you ask of me, only come and curse this people for me.@          (Numbers 22:16-17)

 

I recently had a wonderful conversation with one of our college students home for the summer.  Through the year he had spoken about how evil and corrupt the United States economic system (words I might have spoken when I was in college.)  He wanted to see capitalism replaced with something kinder and gentler.

Now, he confessed to me, AI realize the system is not what is evil and corrupt.  People are evil and corrupt.@  AAt last,@ I shouted, AYou finally get it.  Too often we work at changing the system.  In truth, we need to change people.@

People are not necessarily evil and corrupt.  As I mentioned last week, people have an evil inclination (Ayetzer hara@), but they also have a good inclination (Ayetzer hatov@).  The evil inclination is our appetites out of control.  And one area where the appetite is particularly hard to control is greed, our desire for wealth.

In this week=s portion, Balak hired the pagan prophet Balaam to curse the Israelites.  He offered Balaam a large sum of money, but Balaam turned down the offer.  AGod said to Balaam, do not go with them.  You must not curse that people, for they are blessed.@  (Numbers 22:12) That should have ended the matter, but Balak sent a more distinguished delegation with even more money.  Balaam approached God again, and this time God does not stop him.

If cursing the Israelites was wrong for a lesser amount of money, it was still wrong for a greater amount of money.  Balaam allowed greed to overrule his conscience.  Whenever I read this story, I remember the apocryphal story attributed to George Bernard Shaw.  He approached a woman he met at a party and said, AMadam, would you sleep with me for a million dollars.@  The woman answered yes.  AMadam, would you sleep with me for one hundred dollars.@  AWhat kind of woman do you think I am?@  Shaw replied, AWe have already established that.  Now we are simply arguing over price.@

Some say that everybody has their price.  Raise the bribe high enough and anybody can be bought.  So often greed overwhelms morality.  That is the reason that the Torah teaches over and over that we should hate bribery, appoint judges who do not take bribes.  As Jethro, Moses= father-in-law said to Moses, AYou shall also seek out from among all the people capable men who fear God, trustworthy men who spurn ill-gotten gain.@  And as the book of Psalms teaches, the man who may dwell in God=s holy mountain is the one Awho never lent money at interest nor accepted a bribe against the innocent.@  (Psalms 15:5)