PASHAT MATOT

(5768)

 

ISRAEL’S EXCHANGE

“And stay outside the camp seven days; whoever has killed any person, and whoever has touched any slain, purify both yourselves and your captives on the third day, and on the seventh day.”

                                                                        (Numbers 31:19)

            I write these words from a hotel room in Boston, visiting family, relaxing, and feeling far away from the troubles of the world.  And yet I know that the world’s conflicts still go on without me.  Israel in particular is on my mind.  Israel had to make a painful choice last week.  She released numerous prisoners for the bodies of two young soldiers captured by Hezbollah, Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev.  Among those released by Israel was Samir Kantar who was involved in a vicious 1979 terrorist attack on Israel.

            Releasing live terrorists to receive back dead bodies created a huge controversy in Israel.  Did the Israeli government put other citizens in danger?  There is a fascinating Talmudic discussion on how much a community should pay to redeem living captives.  If a community pays too much it would only encourage further kidnappings and ransom demands.  Did Israel encourage further kidnappings and murders of her soldiers by agreeing to this exchange?  Has the action of the Israeli government increased the danger of living in Israel, particularly for her soldiers?

            Having raised these concerns, I understand Israel’s point of view.  I heard a wonderful insight from a totally non-Jewish source.  It was an interview with anthropologist and filmmaker Mayfair Yang, speaking about the revival of religion in modern China.  (Speaking of Faith 7/17/08)  She was speaking about relief efforts after a recent earthquake in China.   The young soldiers sent by the government had great difficulty handling the bodies of earthquake victims.  A Buddhist group was truly helpful by performing rituals for those who had died.  Their efforts made it possible for the young soldiers to do their difficult work handling the bodies.  Yang continues by saying part of the rediscovery of religion in China is the way religion, whether Christianity or Buddhism, helps deal with the reality of death.  Bodies are not mere physical stuff to be discarded; to those with religious sensitivity, the human body contained the spark of God.

            Like the other great world faiths, Judaism teaches a deep respect for the human body even after death.  That is why we insist on the careful washing of the body and burial as quickly as possible, and why we forbid cremation and other destructive ways of disposing of human remains.  And that is why Israel was willing to go to such extremes to bring back the bodies of these two soldiers.  After all, how we deal with death becomes a reflection of how we deal with life.

            It is a reality of the world we live in that war and sadness are part of the human experience.  Part of what our tradition teaches is that even in the tragedy of war there is a need to recognize the humanity of those who fight.  That is why Israel has never executed enemy soldiers captured in combat, nor terrorists arrested whether before or after their evil deeds.  And that is why even the bodies of soldiers are treated with such dignity and respect.

            Much of this week’s Torah portion is taken up with a rather ugly war of revenge against the Midianites who led the Israelites astray.  It is not a pleasant portion to read and it is extremely harsh to modern ears.  Yet even in this reading there are insights.  The soldiers who go to war are not permitted to simply reenter the Israelite camp.  First they must submit to a proper purification of themselves and their weapons.  They have become impure by their involvement in a war, and must submit to seven days of repurification.  War, even a necessary war of self defense, creates impurity.

            Israel has known too many wars in her relatively brief existence.  She has tried hard to be a decent nation living in a bad neighborhood.  She has often gotten her hands dirty.  By saying that even the bodies of slain soldiers contained a spark of holiness, Israel has shown a deep spiritual insight.  It is a powerful lesson that all humanity needs to hear.  May the memories of Goldwasser and Regev be for a blessing.

 

PARSHAT MASEI

 (5768)

 

SANCTUARY

 

“You shall provide yourselves with places to serve you as cities of refuge to which a manslayer who has killed a person unintentionally may flee.”   (Numbers 3511)

 

            There was a terrible story all over the news this past week.  A man came into a church during worship services in Knoxville, Tennessee, opened fire killing two innocent worshippers and injuring seven others.  When the man was arrested, it was discovered that he harbored a hatred of liberals and intensely disliked the churches liberal policies.  The news reports on this horrendous incident played up the fact that even a sanctuary was no longer safe from the violence of our society.

            Underlying these news reports is the idea that places of worship should be sanctuaries, safe havens in the violence of our society.  The idea of a sanctuary goes back to this week’s Torah portion.  In a culture dominated by blood killings and family revenge, certain cities were set up as sanctuaries.  Someone who killed someone else without premeditation could flee to such a sanctuary and be safe.  The killer could stay in the sanctuary without fear of reprisal until the death of the High Priest, which served as a kind of atonement for the original murder.

            In the time of the Torah, were Houses of Worship actually sanctuaries?  The answer seems to be no.  The Torah teaches that a murderer may be arrested – God says, “you shall take him from My very altar to put to death.”  (Exodus 21:14)  Joab the nephew of King David and his chief general disobeyed David and ordered the killing of David’s son Absalom.  As a result, King David ordered his son Solomon to put Joab to death.  Joab fled his pursuers, went into the Holy Temple and held onto the horns of the altar.  He thought he was in a sanctuary.  Solomon ordered him put to death while holding onto the altar.  A sanctuary was not a place of safety in Biblical times, and sadly it is not a place of safety today.

            Nevertheless, there is a long history of a place of worship being a sanctuary, where one was free from the possibility of arrest.  Medieval churches became places of sanctuary where people could avoid arrest.  Runaway slaves often found sanctuary in a house of worship.  And of course there was of course a large sanctuary movement in the United States in the last thirty years helping illegal immigrants find asylum and avoid deportation.

            A house of worship ought to be a sanctuary at least in a spiritual sense.  I remember once being stuck at Pittsburgh International Airport for hours with a long delayed flight.  I wondered around the airport watching people come and go, eating in the food court and checking out the shops.  Then I went to the chapel, a place set up for all faiths.  I simply sat and meditated for a while.  It was a joy finding a place of peace in the midst of all the airport hubbub. 

            What about our own synagogue sanctuary.  Is it a place of asylum?  Certainly a criminal who comes into our sanctuary to avoid arrest will not be happy.  Jewish tradition teaches that “the law of the land is the law” and one cannot flout the law expecting sanctuary in a synagogue.  Is our sanctuary is a safe place?  We do everything in our power to enhance security, particularly during major holidays and other times when the sanctuary is full.  But what place is completely safe in this day and age?

            The important issue is whether our synagogue is a spiritual sanctuary?  Is it a place where people feel safe to come and pray, to release their troubles, to feel God’s presence?   Do people going through difficult times in their lives feel that the sanctuary is a place of safety and spiritual renewal for them?  Sometimes people stop by the synagogue with the need to simply sit in the synagogue and meditate?   I wish we lived in a country where we can keep our sanctuary doors open to the public 24 –7.  But such security does not exist anymore, anywhere in the world.

            We need sanctuaries in our lives.  King David wrote in Psalm 27, which Jews recite each morning and each evening during the High Holiday period, “One thing have I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after.  That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life.  To behold the graciousness of the Lord, and to visit early in His Temple.”  (Psalms 27:4)   May our synagogue become such a place where people can dwell in the house of the Lord.

           

           

 

 

PARSHAT MATOT-MASEI

 (5767)

 

HOMELESSNESS

 

“Command the people of Israel, that they give to the Levites of the inheritance of their possession cities to live in; and you shall also give to the Levites an open ground around the cities.”                                         (Numbers 35:2)

 

            Dr. Mark Gendal, filling in for me this Shabbat as guest speaker, shared an insight about the portion which I never noticed before.   He is a Levi and he knew that the tribe of Levi was not given a portion of land in ancient Israel.  They were to be the religious functionaries, serving the other tribes.  That is the reason why the Torah warns over and over to care for the Levi who may be impoverished because of his lack of land.

            The Levis were not given land.  But they were given homes, special Levitical cities set aside just for their tribe.  The Levis were given forty eight cities with open land around them to raise their cattle.  Even as they served the religious needs of the other Israelites, the Levis needed a place to live.  The lesson is that no one should be homeless.

            In our own day synagogues and churches often must take responsibility to make sure their clergy have a place to live.  Many congregations own a parsonage where their clergy live, particular vital in neighborhoods where the cost of housing is out of reach for clergy.  On a personal level, I feel extremely fortunate that throughout my career my wife and I have owned our own home.   We have never had the need to live in a synagogue owned home.

            One of the questions I face as a parent is where my children will someday live.  Right now they rent apartments.  But my hope is that they also will someday own their own homes.  But as the cost of housing explodes, I wonder whether they will ever be able to afford their own housing?  And will my wife and I be in a position to help them, as our parents once helped us?  Every family has an obligation to ask the question, where and how will our children live?  What are our obligations to our family regarding housing?

            Unfortunately, over my years as I rabbi I have often tried to help people who were homeless.  Sometimes I used my discretionary fund to pay for a few days in a hotel room.  And occasionally I have been able to raise money for rent so someone can move into an apartment.  But providing housing for those who are is far beyond the limited funds of any non-profit organization, or any agency besides the government.  This raises the challenging question – what is the obligation of society to make sure that everybody has a place to live?

            A few years ago I went out to a building project by Habitat for Humanity.  The organization, often led by former president Jimmy Carter, builds housing for the poor.  In spite of the organization’s Christian roots, they invited me as a rabbi to share a brief prayer and word of inspiration before they started building.  (Fortunately they did not ask me to pick up a hammer or I am sure whatever I built would have fallen down.)   I said a prayer including the Biblical verse, “Unless God builds a house the builders build in vain.”  (Psalms 127:1)

            Habitat for Humanity does not simply give its homes away.  It builds for people who are in position to take some financial responsibility for the home, even if the cost is deeply discounted.  No one will simply give people a place to live with no commitment in return.  I recently tried to help a homeless man get into a shelter.   But even homeless shelters have rules and expect commitments, particularly attempts to become financially self-sufficient.

            So what should we do about the homeless?  Does the government owe every person a place to live?  Can the government demand that people become financially self-sufficient?   What about people who are mentally ill, or have serious addiction problems?   What is the obligation on taxpayers to pay for this housing?   What about family?  Do families owe every member a place to live?  Or does a family have the right, some would say the obligation, to say, provide for yourself?

            The questions are difficult.  The tribe of Levi teaches us that nobody should ever lack a roof over their head.  How to provide such a roof is a difficult question.

 

 

PARSHAT MATOT – MASEI

 (5766)

 

HEZBOLLAH AND THE MIDIANITES

 

“The Lord spoke to Moses saying, Avenge the Israelite people on the Midianites; then you shall be gathered to your kin.”    (Numbers 31:1-2)

 

            It is a difficult week for those of us who love Israel.  A year ago at this time I stood with a group from our synagogue visiting soldiers guarding the border with Lebanon.  All was relatively peaceful.  Now that border has become an extremely dangerous place. 

            We want to see Israel left alone in peace.  But when terrorists cross her borders to kidnap her soldiers and lob rockets into civilian areas, killing innocent people going about their business, then Israel has no choice.  Israel had to strike back.  And the striking back has been furious.  Much of Lebanon’s infrastructure, including Beirut International Airport runways, have been destroyed.  Unfortunately, innocents have been killed on both sides.  And once again, Israel stands at the brink of war.

            I have listened to the ongoing condemnations of Israel for these actions.  And yet, I wonder what the United States would do if someone was lobbing rockets into San Diego from across the Mexican border.  We would never tolerate such incursions.  Why should Israel tolerate it?   Unfortunately, the world holds Israel to a different standard than most other nations.  Only Israel has to justify her very existence.

            Israel did what she needed to do.  We can only pray that events settle down and Israel can go back to the uneasy peace it has known in recent days.  I fear a true peace, with neighbors who recognize Israel’s borders and accept her existence, is still generations away.  Long ago the prophet Jeremiah cried out “Peace, peace, but there is no peace.”  (Jeremiah 8:11)   We must recognize that Israel acted against the Iranian and Syrian supported terrorists of Hezbollah the way she needed to act.

            As I watch the news unfold, I think about a conversation I had with a man from our synagogue.  He had read this week’s Torah portion and was deeply surprised by the violence.  Moses commands the Israelites to conduct a war of retribution against the Midianites.  He commands his soldiers to slay not simply the men but the women who have known men.  It is the women who had led the Israelites astray at Shittim, an orgy which was finally halted by Pinchas.  The Torah continues with events that are distasteful to modern readers.  The man asked me, “I thought Moses was a man of peace.  How could he condone such violence?”

            I will not try to justify Moses’ actions.  They happened long ago, and it is difficult to judge ancient actions by modern standards.  But I believe there is a lesson that the Torah is trying to teach us.  The Torah was given to real people who live in a real world.  There are people in this world who want to destroy us.  And sometimes the only answer is to respond with strength.  Or as our tradition teaches, “All who are kind to those who are cruel will end up being cruel to those who are kind.”  (Kohelet Raba 7:16)  There are times when sadly, it is necessary to react with strength.

            Following the war against the Midianites, the Torah raises a fascinating point.  Those who participated in the war were not allowed simply to reenter the camp.  “You shall then stay outside the camp seven days, every one among you or among your captives who has slain a person or touched a corpse shall cleanse himself on the third and seventh day.”  (Numbers 31:19)  The war made the soldiers ritually impure.  They had touched death, and now they must go through a seven day rite of purification before they could reenter the camp.  War may be a necessary evil.  But it mars our holiness.  A person cannot fight the Midianites and then immediately reenter the holy places. 

            Can we compare the ancient Midianites to the modern Hezbollah?   The Midianites was an ancient story.  Hezbollah is a modern story.  Unfortunately, little has changed.  Sometimes harsh action must be taken.  But such action mars our holiness.  When these events are over, we must do our own purification, a spiritual reassessment.  What can Israel do to prevent such fighting in the future?  Meanwhile, we can only pray that killing stops, the kidnapped soldiers are released to their families, and peace finally come to this troubled region.

 

 

PARSHAT MATOT-MASEI

 (5764)

 

JOINING THE ARMY

 

“Moses replied to the Gadites and the Reubenites, Are your brothers to go to war while you stay here?”                                     (Numbers 32:6)

 

            Sometimes I do not remember conversations I had last week.  Yet, I vividly recall an argument with a friend that took place at Camp Ramah more than twenty-five years ago.  Obviously this argument touched a raw nerve at the time, and looking back, I still feel it is a sensitive area in my own soul.

            The argument took place on the Sabbath when we read this week’s double portion.  The portion speaks about two and a half tribes, Gad, Reuben, and half of Manasseh, who chose to make their homes on the east side of the Jordan River.  While their brethren went into the Promised Land to conquer it, they chose to stay behind.  The other tribes would fight the battles while they would live in safety across the river.

            Moses replied that it would be unfair for some people to fight a war while others stayed behind.  It would undermine the morale of those soldiers participating in the conquest if some tribes did not join them.  Everyone should share the burden of fighting the battle equally.  The two and a half tribes agreed, and joined their brothers in the war, only returning afterwards to settle to the east of the Jordan.

            Returning to my argument, my friend said that the same principle is true today.  We had known each other as students at Hebrew University in Jerusalem.  Following a year of study together, I had returned to the United States to continue my rabbinic studies.  He had stayed in Israel and joined the Israeli army.  He had seen military action in defense of the Jewish state.  And he argued that every Jew, and certainly anyone who wanted to be a rabbi, should make the same commitment to the defense of Israel.

            My friend argued that someone who wants to be a leader of the Jewish people must make a commitment to defend the Jewish homeland.  Every Rabbinical student ought to make a commitment to serve in the Israeli army, or at least do some long-term volunteer commitment for the Israeli military.  Why should some have to fight while others stay behind to study?

            I argued that as a rabbi I would be serving the community in a different way.  But he was convinced that to serve requires that one put one’s life on the line.  Only someone who actually serves in the military can speak with any authentic authority about the fate of the Jewish people.  The argument ended in a stalemate.

            The truth is that I have never served in the military, either in Israel or in the United States.  I came of age at a time when the Vietnam War was waging, and like many who questioned the wisdom of that war, I found ways to avoid the draft.  I admire those who did serve their country.   I lost a cousin in Vietnam, and feel some relief that I came through that period unscathed.

Unless we have a universal draft, some will serve and the rest of us must simply admire them and show our appreciation.  I feel great ambivalence as I think about our young people stationed in Iraq today.  On one hand, I am thrilled that Sadaam Hussein has been overthrown.  He was a cruel and dangerous man, a threat to Israel, the United States, and his own people.  On the other hand, I do not believe that he had any real ties to Al Queda and the terrorists, and question whether we went into Iraq under false pretenses.

The one clear truth that came out of Michael Moore’s controversial Fahrenheit 9/11 is that the poor are the ones who sign up to serve in the military and put their lives on the line.  The rich and well connected are able to avoid military service.  At the same time, I feel great relief that my own children, who are of military age, are in college and not in harm’s way.  I feel great admiration for those who do fight, and an overwhelming sadness for the hundreds of lives lost. 

Sadly, we are fighting a great evil in the world.  Some will take on the burden of fighting and some will not.  Perhaps my friend was right.  Fighting a war of survival ought to be everybody’s burden.  As the Talmud teaches, if it is an obligatory war, “all must fight the battle, even the bridegroom from his chamber and the bride from her chamber.”  (Sota 8:7)   Meanwhile, I can only pray that our military personnel, whether in Israel, Iraq, or Afghanistan, quickly return home safely to their families.