PARSHAT NASO

 (5768)

 

LIFTING UP

 

“The Lord spoke to Moses, take a census of the Gershonites also, by their ancestral house and by their clans.”                 (Numbers 4:21-22)

 

            I truly believe Judaism loses something valuable in translation.  Take the name of this portion naso.  The new Jewish Publication Society Bible translates it “take a census.”  I have seen it translated “count” or “number.”  All of these lose the essence of the word.  The word naso actually means “lift up.”  A translation true to the Hebrew would probably say “Lift up the Gershonites.”  By lifting someone up, we make him or her special.  (Think of a father lifting a child on his shoulders.  Here God is lifting up this group of people.)

            When we Jews say the mourners kaddish, we use a number of different words to “lift up God.”  The whole purpose of kaddish is to stand in the midst of a community and reaffirm our faith in God, that life is not a random event but has a purpose.  (That is why we need a minyan of ten Jews to say kaddish; the minyan represents the community.)  One of the terms we use to signify God in this prayer is yetnaseh, lifted up.  The Aramaic words of this prayer literally seek to lift up God.

            The term naso is used in many contexts in Judaism.  For example, the classical Hebrew phrase for conducting business in the marketplace is naso v’natan literally “lift up and take.”  One of the classical forms of acquisition in Jewish commercial law is lifting up and carrying an item.  Similarly, when the kohenim bless the congregation on festivals (in Israel every day), they do nesiat kapayim literally “lift up their hands.”   The act of lifting up makes something special; by lifting their hands the kohenim are acting as God’s agents to bless the congregation.

            One of the most important usages of the word naso is at the wedding ceremony.  The technical name for a wedding in Judaism, at least the second part of the wedding where the seven blessings are chanted and the couple can live together as husband and wife, is nesuim (sometimes pronounced nesuin).  The formalities of the marriage ceremony are now complete.  The husband and the wife have lifted one another up to a special status.  It is as if they stand higher now then before, certainly in each other’s eyes.  One of my goals is to reestablish that sense of holiness, of being lifted up, that was classically part of the state we call marriage.

            Let me share one more usage of the term naso – the nasi or “one who is lifted up.”  When Rabbi Judah put together the Mishnah, the collection of Oral Laws which became the heart of the Talmud, he received the title Yehudah HaNasi, usually translated Judah the Prince.  Perhaps we should call him Judah the lifted one.  The title shows the respect he received from the people Israel for his scholarship and wisdom.

            Today we use the word nasi to mean president.  Whether the president of a local club or the President of the United States, the Hebrew term is nasi.   Of course, the word means lifted up, the community has chosen to lift up this person to a position of prestige, power, and respect.  He or she has attained this moment only by virtue of being lifted up by the community.  It is so easy for presidents to become arrogant.  That is why it is vital for any person with the title nasi to remember who placed them there.

            As I write these words, it looks like the long race for the Democratic nominee for President is over.  The Republican race has been over for several months.  It looks as if either McCain or Obama will become the next nasi.   Several members of our synagogue have asked me how I intend to vote.  I will not endorse a candidate nor will I publicly announce whom I will vote for.  That is not my role as a rabbi.

            My role as a rabbi is to teach that to be president is to be lifted up by the community who elects him or her.  It is incumbent on anybody who holds that title never to forget how he or she arrived there.   May both candidates for President of the United States prove worthy of being “lifted up.”

 

 

PARSHAT NASO

 (5767)

 

WHO’S IN, WHO’S OUT?

 

“Remove male and female alike, put them outside the camp so that they do not defile the camp of those in whose midst I dwell.”                        (Numbers 5:3)

 

            The Israelites were about to begin their journey through the Sinai desert.  But first everybody who was impure had to be removed from the camp.  The Torah was speaking of ritual impurity, but the question has broader implications.  How does a community keep itself pure?  Who is in and who is out?

            In the United States this question has been at the center of the news this past week.  How should we as a nation deal with illegal immigrants?  Do we open the door and grant a general amnesty to those who are here?  Or do we try to shut the door and crack down on those who entered this country illegally?  If a community is too open, there is a danger of changing the very nature of the community as well as the economic challenges of too many immigrants.  If a community is too closed, there is a danger of cruelty, of separating families who have been in this country for decades.  The solution to the immigration question lies somewhere in the middle between opening the borders and cracking down.  Where in the middle?

            The same question has divided the Jewish community from Biblical times until the present.  How open should we be in welcoming new Jews into our midst?  Today there are two extremes.  On one hand there are particular ethnic communities such as the Syrians who outlaw conversions altogether.  There are the very Orthodox who make it extremely difficult to convert.  In Israel today, where Jewishness is in the hands of Orthodox parties, conversion is a long and frustrating process.  Immigrants must bring proof of their Jewishness such as their parents’ ketuba (marriage document) to demonstrate that they are Jewish.  Many Russian immigrants of questionable Jewish status face severe difficulties if they want to marry or if they plan to be buried in a Jewish cemetery.  Then there are non-Orthodox rabbis, myself included, who insist on proper conversion if the mother is not Jewish.

            On the other extreme are many in the liberal camp who have made it extremely easy to be part of the Jewish community.  Reform rabbis will consider children Jewish if either the mother or father is Jewish and require no conversion of adopted children.  Standards of conversions vary from rabbi to rabbi.  And today many liberal synagogues welcome all individuals with no difference in the participation of non-Jews in the ritual.  Many people not born Jewish have informally joined the Jewish community without any formal conversion.

            What is the proper stand?  On Shavuot we read the book of Ruth, which tells a moving story about a young Moabite woman who cast her fate with the Jewish people.  “Your people shall be my people, your God shall be my God”  (Ruth 1:16).  Modern religious authorities can argue whether Ruth went through a formal conversion (being questioned by three rabbis and going to the mikvah or ritual bath), or whether Ruth informally cast her fate with the people without conversion.  What is challenging is that the acceptance of Ruth seems to fly in the face of the Torah prohibition against accepting Moabites as converts.  (See Deuteronomy23:4)

            I am convinced that the entire book of Ruth is a polemic against those who would take a hard line on welcoming new Jews.  Ezra who led the Israelites from the first Babylonian exile back to the Promised Land forced the Israelites to turn away their gentile wives and children.  Conversion was never offered as an option.  Perhaps the acceptance of Ruth is a reaction to the closed attitudes of Ezra.  It is worthy to note that King David was a direct descendent of Ruth.

            Today, the Jewish community is arguing about Who is a Jew?  America is arguing about immigration.  The issues are not easy.  But perhaps it is worthy to remember the words of the poet Edwin Markham,

“He drew a circle that shut me out,

Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.

But love and I had will to win,

We drew a circle that took him in.”

 

 

PARSHAT NASO

 (5766)

 

LIFTING UP

 

“Take a census of the Gershonites also, by their ancestral house and by their clans.”

                                                                        (Numbers 4:21)

 

            At the beginning of this portion, the term naso is translated “take a census.”  The intent of God was to have a careful count of the tribe of Levi when He commanded Moses to count them according to their clans.  But the meaning of the word is something more powerful – naso literally means “lift up.”  By giving members of the tribe of Levi special roles in transporting the Holy Ark, Moses is literally lifting them up.

            The word is used in other contexts in Jewish tradition.  For example, the traditional term for a Jewish wedding ceremony is nisuim, the plural of the term naso.  For a wedding to grow into a successful marriage, two people must literally lift each other up.  A bride lifts up her groom by making him a better man, and a groom lifts up his bride by making her a better woman. 

Recently television showed the season finale of the very successful family drama Seventh Heaven.  The show is about a minister, his wife, and their seven children, so I can relate.  The theme of the final show was whether one of the sons would go ahead with his wedding or not.   His father gave him a test – “Do you make each other better?”  In other words, do you lift each other up?  If a bride and groom do not lift each other up, they do not belong as husband and wife.

            Our popular culture seems to realize the profound truth that people need to lift one another up.  In An Officer and a Gentleman they played the Joe Crocker song “Love lift us up where we belong.”  In Beaches they played the Bette Midler song “You are the wind beneath my wings.”  Countless songs, movies, television shows share the theme of one human being lifting another human being to a higher place.  The insight is that when we lift others up, we also lift ourselves up.  Just as a high tide lifts all the boats in the harbor, acts of love create a spiritual high tide that lifts all of us up. 

            Unfortunately not everybody has learned this valuable lesson.  There are people who rather than lifting up their fellow human beings, prefer to put them down.  Often they are people of low self-esteem.  The easiest way to raise their own selves is to put down others.  The rise is only temporary.  We can float on other people’s misfortune for a while, but eventually that attitude brings us all down.   To use the same metaphor, negativity towards others is like a low tide that lowers all boats.

            If you have ever spent time around negative people who enjoy putting down others, you know how negative it can be.   People that cause others to be lowered drain the energy out of everybody.  There is enough negativity in the world without adding more.  That is why it is so important to teach the value of lifting up.

            There is a wonderful image from kabbala.  God created the world by giving forth light.  Much of that light became trapped in husks, becoming hidden sparks which need to be uncovered.  The job of humanity is to raise up all of those holy sparks.  Let us imagine that every human being contains a number of those holy sparks.  One of the most important tasks we humans can do is lift up the holy sparks in every person we meet.  Ultimately every person we meet was put on this earth for a purpose, and was created in the image of God.  Therefore, every person we meet deserves to be lifted up.  The miracle is that as we uncover the holy sparks in others, we find ourselves being lifted up as well.

 

 

PARSHAT NASO

 (5764)

 

GOD’S FACE

 

“May the Lord lift His face upon you and grant you peace.”

                                                (Numbers 6:26)

 

            The most famous, and perhaps the most beautiful passage in the book of Numbers is the Priestly blessing, which falls in the middle of this portion:

“May the Lord bless you and guard you.

May the Lord cause His face to shine upon you and be gracious to you.

May the Lord lift His face upon you and grant you peace.”  (Numbers 6:24-26)

 

            God’s holy name appears in each of the three stanzas.  Besides this, the only term repeated in the blessing is the word “face.”   (In Hebrew, the word for face is panim.  In this blessing, the word is panav which means “His face.”)   We ask God to cause His face to shine upon us, and then to lift up His face to us.  But does God have a face?

            Of course this is a metaphor.  God has no body, no outstretched arm nor mighty hand, no nose to smell nor voice to speak, and certainly no face, at least in a physical sense.  When the Bible uses such terms, it is anthropomorphizing aspects of God’s reality, using physical terms to describe the unphysical.  So, what do we mean by a face, whether God’s or ours?

            The first insight comes from the Hebrew.  The word panim is always in the plural, literally “faces.”   You cannot have a single face; there must always be more than one.  Perhaps the reason is that none of us has just one face.  We present the world with a certain face when we are happy, another when we are angry, another when we are frightened, and another when we are sad.  We often present one face to the world and another to our family.  Perhaps we have one face for business and another for pleasure.  Each of us has many faces.  Therefore, face in Hebrew is always plural.

            However, perhaps there is another reason why face is always plural.  Faces always come in pairs.  Two people meet face to face.  The word face is about an encounter with another.  My face comes into being when it meets another face, when I really stand in the presence and see the other.  To quote the old hit song, “It takes two baby, it takes two, me and you.”  My face exists to encounter the face of my fellow.

            Humans need other humans, and need to be fully present.  We must be able to see the other, to be open while confronting the other.  Our very being is defined in relationship to others, and by being in the presence of others. 

            I use this idea in many areas of counseling.  First, as many of you know, I have spoken throughout the country on sexual ethics.  One point I often make is that, unlike the animal kingdom, we humans usually have sex face to face.  We see the other during our most intimate encounter, and therefore the other becomes more than a mere body.  That is why the Bible uses the verb “know” when speaking about human sexuality – “Now the man knew his wife, and she conceived.”  (Genesis 4:1)  When our sexual partners become mere bodies, we have lowered ourselves to the animal level.   To be human is to see the other.

            Similarly, being face to face is vital for our relationships.  Husbands and wives need and deserves time with one another, face to face without distraction.  Children have a vital need for their parents’ ongoing presence.  Even in business settings, there is nothing more frustrating than talking to someone who is preoccupied by papers on the desk, phone interruptions, and other distractions.  People deserve our presence and full attention.

            So it is with God.  God does not have a face in any literal sense.  But God has a presence.  There are moments in our lives when we feel we are living in the very presence of our Creator, when God’s presence is shining upon us, when God lifts up that presence and brings us peace.  The Priestly Blessing invokes such a sense of God’s presence.  As humans we need God.  And perhaps equally important, God needs us.  Only Moses saw God “face to face.”  But each of us can feel the reality of God’s presence.

 

 

 

PARSHAT NASO

(5763)

 

MOMENTS OF GLORY

 

"The Lord said to Moses, Let a chief for each day, a chief for each day bring their offering for the dedication of the altar."  

(Numbers 7:10)

 

This week my daughter graduates from High School.  It is an exciting moment for our family for which she worked very hard.  She certainly deserves her moment of glory when she walks across the stage and receives her diploma.

Unlike my oldest son who went to a small, private high school, my daughter went to a large public high school.  There are over 700 students receiving diplomas.  Each name will be called and each will walk across the stage.  I expect the entire process to take several hours.  Why can't they simply call my daughter's name, let her walk, and then announce, "For everybody else, ditto."  It would make the evening shorter, and more enjoyable for us.

Obviously, the answer is that every student deserves his or her moment of glory.  Every parent deserves a little naches watching their youngster receive the diploma.  Every student is equally valuable, has worked hard, and deserves a moment of glory.  None of us are mere dittos, et ceteras, we are each humans with our own uniqueness.  Long graduations are part of the price we all pay for recognizing the humanity of each every student.

The same idea underlies part of this week=s Torah portion.  Twelve princes, one for each of the twelve tribes, over the course of twelve days, bring dedication offerings.  The Torah describes each of the twelve offerings at length B one silver bowl weighing 130 shekels, one silver basin weighing 70 shekels, both filled with choice flour and oil, one gold ladle weighing 10 shekels filled with incense, one bull, one ram, one lamb, one goat, and a variety of other animals.  Each of the offerings is precisely the same.  The Torah repeats all twelve princes with the offerings, making the reading extremely repetitive.  Would it not have been easier to mention the first prince, the first day, and then say regarding the other days, ditto.

The Torah was repetitive because each of the twelve princes deserves their moment of glory.  Each deserves to be the center of attention for one day.  No one wants to be a mere ditto, an et cetera, an afterthought.   Each deserves to stand up there and shine for their particular moment.  Like the individual families as their children walk across the graduation stage, each tribe deserves to kvell (a good Yiddish word meaning to be proud) as their leader brings his daily gift.

This portion shows the unique value of every human being.  Perhaps the gifts of each tribe were the same.  But for that individual tribe, it was a unique moment, unlike any other.  So too, perhaps each high school diploma is the same.  But for that graduating senior, it is their unique moment, unlike any other. 

If we begin to become bored during such repetitious moments, perhaps it is worthy to remember that every individual is God's child.  God kvells for each individual during his or her moment of glory.   If God had hands, God would applaud for every person who walks on that stage.  The Talmud teaches that God stamps every human being with the same stamp, and yet no human being is exactly like any other.  Every human being is unique, and everyone deserves to celebrate his or her uniqueness.

This idea is true many times in life.  Some of you come to synagogue each and every week, and see a different young person become bar or bat mitzvah.  It may seem repetitious.  You might wish I would say to the bar or bat mitzvah, "Whatever I said in the past to previous bar and bat mitzvah students, ditto."  But you know I will not do that.  Every bar and bat mitzvah deserves their unique moment, and even when we have a double b'nai mitzvah, I try to find moments in the service when each can individually shine.   Like my daughter, each of us deserves moments of glory in life.

 

 

 

PARSHAT NASO

(5762)

 

THE PLEASURES OF LIFE

 

"And these are the laws of the Nazir when the days of his consecration are fulfilled - he shall present before the Lord a year old lamb without blemish as a sin offering."

(Numbers 6:13-14)

 

There is a Hasidic tale of a young student who seeks out a rebbe to train him in the spiritual disciplines of Hasidism.  "Master",says the student.  "I will do whatever it takes to remove myself from the pleasures of the flesh in order to answer a higher spiritual calling.  I am prepared to live on nothing but oats and water.  I am prepared to roll in the snow naked if that is what is necessary to serve a higher purpose."

The rebbe took the young student to the window and told him, "See that horse standing out there.  That horse lives on nothing but oats and water.  That horse rolls in the snow naked.  You are telling me that you want to be like that horse.  But you are not a horse.  To give up the ways of the flesh is not the path to God."

There is an idea that in life we choose between the pleasures of the flesh and the joy of the spirit.  There is an idea that the holy life is one removed from the joys of food and wine, music and sexual pleasure.  Many religious traditions see asceticism as the only true path to God.

In this week's portion we read about the Nazir, a man or a woman who made a special vow of holiness unto God.  During the time that the Nazir was under the vow, he or she was forbidden to cut hair or shave, go near a dead body, and drink wine or any other spirits.   Perhaps the Nazir was someone who found it difficult to control his or her appetites, and felt the need to take on an extra vow for greater self discipline.  (We have all had moments when we believe our appetites are out of control.)  Certainly through these restrictions the Nazir felt closer to God.

When the period of the vow was over, the former Nazir had to bring special offerings.  In particular, he or she had to bring a sin offering.  What was the sin?  The Talmud teaches,  The Nazir is a sinner because he afflicted himself through the abstention from wine.    If one who afflicted himself only in respect of wine is called a sinner, how much more so one who ascetically refrains from all pleasures. (Nedarim 10a)

God made a material world full of pleasures for us to enjoy.  There is food (without over indulgence), wine (drunk responsibly), sexual relations (with the right partner in the right context), nice clothing (worn modestly), and all the other pleasures of the flesh.  In the book of Ecclesiastes, King Solomon searches for the meaning of life.  In the end he writes, "Go thy way, eat thy bread with joy and drink thy wine with a merry heart, for God has already accepted thy works.  Let they garments be always white and let thy head lack no oil.  Enjoy life with the wife whom you love all the days of the life of your vanity."  (Ecclesiastes 9:7-9)

The religious path is not to remove ourselves from the joy of life in this world.  On the contrary, the religious path is to enjoy this material world which God made for us.  The Rabbis taught  that in the World to Come we will be called to account for every legitimate pleasure in this world that we failed to enjoy. (Jerusalem Talmud, Kiddushin 4:12)

It is through the enjoyment of life that we serve God.  Good wine, good food, loving sexual relations, nice clothes, joyous moments with friends not only gives pleasure to the body but can become paths to Godliness.

PARSHAT NASO

(5761)

 

DESERVING GOD'S BLESSING

 

"Speak to Aaron and his sons saying, thus shall you bless the people of Israel."

(Numbers 6:22)

 

The woman who came to see me was deeply depressed.  She did not like the direction her life had gone.  She felt unworthy in God=s eyes.  After listening to her story and giving her some advice, I invited her to our Sabbath services.

"Rabbi, I can't do that.  I am uncomfortable in services.  I don't believe God would want me there.  I don't deserve God's blessings."

How can I convince her that everybody deserves God's blessings?  In this week's portion, we find the priestly blessing, perhaps the most famous blessing in the world.  The kohenim (priests or descendants of Aaron) were given responsibility for pronouncing the words.  But the blessing itself comes from God. 

"May the Lord bless you and guard you.  May the Lord lift His countenance onto you and be gracious to you.  May the Lord shine His face upon you and grant you peace."  Three lines of three words, five words, and seven words.  The first deals with our physical well-being, the second with our emotional well-being, the third with our spiritual well-being.

The Torah teaches that Aaron and his sons shall bless the entire community, not just the most worthy, the most ethical, the most spiritual.  Every human being can partake in God's blessing.

In our synagogue, we have returned to the old tradition of having the kohenim pronounce this blessing on each of the festivals through the year.  I always explain that they are simply acting as God's agents, pronouncing the words.  It is God Who is actually doing the blessing. 

In many more liberal synagogues, the rabbi plays the role of priest, pronouncing the words and blessing the congregation.  I do not usually bless my congregation, but I do say the blessing at a bris or baby naming.  I bless the children at our monthly family service.  I also bless every new bride and groom under the huppah.

Perhaps most important, I bless my own children at home every Friday night immediately after we light Shabbat candles.  I began this tradition when they were mere infants and have continued as we go through the challenging teen years.  Sometimes my children and I have fought bitterly and there was a palpable tension as we lit candles, but never once have any of my children refused to be blessed.  In fact, I call my oldest son every Friday afternoon in his college dorm to see how his week was, wish him "Shabbat Shalom," and bless him.  He is studying philosophy and remains a religious skeptic, but he never turns down the blessing.

Erich Fromm, in his book The Art of Loving speaks of two kinds of love which he calls fatherly love and motherly love.  (These are tendencies or archtypes - every father and every mother loves with both types of love.)  Next week I will have more to say about fatherly love.  The receiving of God=s blessing involves motherly love.

Motherly love is unconditional love.  It is a love that says, no matter what we do or whether or not we are worthy, we will receive this love.  It is not love we have to earn, but love that flows to us by our very existence.  We all need motherly love.  That is why, whether we believe we deserve it or not, we should feel the warmth of God's blessing.

      PARSHAT NASO

(5760)

 

LOVE OR TRUST?

 

"The Priest shall write these curses in a scroll, and he shall blot them out into the water of bitterness."

(Numbers 5:23)

 

What is the most important ingredient in a successful marriage?  Ask the average person, and they will probably say "love."  Afterall, that is the message of our popular culture.  As the songs teach "love will keep us together," "love makes the world go round,"  "all you need is love."

I see countless marriages break down, with a divorce rate rising.  Each couple who comes to my study contemplating divorce stood under the marriage canopy deeply in love.  Obviously, love alone does not keep us together. 

What is the most important ingredient in a successful marriage?  There is a hint in this week's Torah reading.  Sometimes we can learn the most modern, relevant teaching from the most ancient, archaic law.  This is true of the ordeal of jealousy, a ritual prominent in this portion.

The ordeal speaks of a husband who suspected his wife of committing adultery.  He had no proof, but the trust had broken down.  There was a degrading ritual, where certain curses were written and dissolved into bitter waters.  The woman drank the waters, and if she were guilty, certain physical symptoms appeared.

Fortunately, this archaic ritual has long ago disappeared from Jewish life.  The rabbis taught that if the man himself had been less than faithful in the marriage, drinking the bitter waters would not work for his wife.  (Sotah 47b)  According to the Talmud, when adultery in increased in Israel, Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai abolished the ritual altogether. (Sotah 9:9)

Is there anything we can learn from this ritual?  The curses that were dissolved in the water included God's name.  As a general rule, once God's name is written we can never destroy it.  That is the reason we bury a Torah and other holy books when they are no longer fit for use.  We never want to destroy God's holy name.

Only this law is an exception.  We allow God's name to be dissolved into the bitter waters, with the hope that the woman who drank it will be found innocent.  To rebuild trust between a husband and wife once again, even God's name can be destroyed.  For a marriage to succeed, the most important ingredient is trust.