A Perfect Itinerary

Parashat Mattot-Masei, Numbers 30:2–36:13

Dr. Vered Hillel, Netanya, Israel

Life is a journey! Much like a train ride, life’s journey has stops along the way, but when the whistle blows, we move forward toward our destination. The Tanakh records many journeys. For example, Abraham journeyed to a land Adonai showed him, and B’nei Israel, the people of Israel, journeyed from Egypt to the land of promise. Like all of us, both Abraham and B’nei Israel made important stops along the way. However, they did not dwell at the stops, but continued forward to their final destination. Parashat Masei records the itinerary of Israel’s journey from Egypt to the plains of Moab (33:1–49), enumerating forty-two encampments, during the forty-year period of wandering in the wilderness in accordance with the number of days they spied out the land (Num 14: 34–40).

On the Jewish calendar, Masei is read together with Mattot, Numbers 30–32, except in a leap year. Together the two portions portray the final months of B’nei Israel's journey from Egypt to the land of Canaan. The itinerary in Numbers 33 ends with B’nei Israel in the plains of Moab near the Jordan river. With the exception of a few digressions that recall an incident that befell B’nei Israel in the course of their journey, the itinerary lists only the place names. Why did Adonai include all these names of places? What is their significance?

To begin with, the itinerary anchors Israel in history. It points out that Israel was on a real, historical, flesh-and-blood journey. Additionally, the structure and presentation of the itinerary reveal things about B’nei Israel’s spiritual journey, about their relationship with Adonai and the calling they would embody once in the Promised Land.

Each stage of Israel’s journey was determined by the “commandment of Adonai,” who planned and directed every move. When it was time to relocate, the cloud that hovered over the encampment moved, and the entire camp would pack up their belongings and move on, following the pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night. Whenever the cloud was stationary, B’nei Israel stayed put, and when the cloud moved again, they moved on. This process demonstrates the sovereignty of Adonai.

The forty-two stages or encampments also declare the mercies and compassion of Adonai. Rashi, citing Rabbi Moshe HaDarshan, points out that fourteen of the encampments were in the first year of Israel’s wanderings and eight were in the last year. This means that B’nei Israel only moved twenty times during the intervening thirty-eight years. Although Adonai decreed that they would wander for forty years, he enabled them to rest and settle down for extended periods of time. This demonstrates the great love Adonai has for his people.

Additionally, the itinerary functions as a reminder of all that happened to B’nei Israel during their forty-year journey, thus enabling them to appreciate both the love and fear of Adonai and the security he provides. Midrash Tanhuma relates a parable to explain this point. Once there was a king whose son was ill. The king took his son to a distant place seeking a cure. When they returned home, the father began to enumerate to his son all the stages along the way, saying “here we slept, here we caught cold, here you had a headache,” and so on. Midrash Tanhuma explains that the itinerary in Numbers 33 was written to remind B’nei Israel of both favorable and unfavorable events of their journey. After they settled in the land of their inheritance, the itinerary would serve as a reminder of Adonai’s lovingkindness, as well as the sufferings they endured as a result of their disobedience. In turn, Israel would be prodded to act rightly and not sin. The itinerary contains a message of historical continuity that evokes memories of Israel’s physical and spiritual journey and encourages all of us to continue our journey in the love and fear of Adonai.

Just as B’nei Israel did not settle in one place on their journey to the Promised Land until they reached their destination, we too press on toward the goal, which is the heavenly call of God in Messiah Yeshua (Phil 3:14 ), without settling in any one stop along the way. We may encamp for a season at specific place where we experience Adonai’s rest as well as favorable and unfavorable events. Through each of these stages we grow and change and in the process learn more about the character of Adonai and ourselves. God created each of us for a purpose. Our journeys help us discern that purpose and become the men and women of God we were created to be. The different stages and seasons of our lives prepare us for the next step along the way and the new opportunities awaiting us. Our specific encounters along the way, both favorable and unfavorable, work together to make us who we are and to prepare us for the rest of the journey.

Remember, we cannot take our goals and achievements with us to our final destination; they are temporal achievements measured by temporal standards. This world is not our home; we are simply passing through, pressing on to a higher calling (Heb 11:1–16, 13:14–21; 1 Pet 2:11; 1 John 2:15–17). As we move from place to place on our journey through life, let us not become distracted by fleeting temptations and desires that can damage us spiritually and physically. Let’s be on guard against desires that lead us astray from Adonai and his word and from desires that cause us to sin and be exiled from him. Remember we are not alone in this journey. Adonai walks with us and guides us.

At each point of the wilderness wanderings, B’nei Israel encamped and moved forward by the word of Adonai. May Israel continue to do so! May we, as individuals journeying through the stages of our lives, also remember that Adonai directs our steps. May we all walk in the places Adonai directs us, because that is the perfect place to be.

Chazak, chazak, v’nitchazek! Be strong, be strong, and let us be strengthened!

The times they are a changin’

Parashat Pinchas, Numbers 25:10–30:1

Michael Hillel, Netanya, Israel

When I volunteered to prepare a study on this week’s Torah portion, in the back of my mind I was thinking about Pinchas’ zeal for the honor and holiness of Hashem (Num 25:10–11), or maybe about the covenant of shalom and everlasting priesthood that Hashem would establish between him and Pinchas and his descendants forever (Num 25:12–13). As I sat down to begin writing, however, the Ruach took me in an entirely different direction. 

An October 2015 Forbes article entitled “When And How To Hand Over The Reins To Your Business” asks, “How do you know when it’s time to step aside and make room for a new generation of leaders? And what’s the best way to handle the transition?” Of the five points in the article, two struck me as relevant to this week’s readings: 1) prepare the next generation of leaders, and then 2) move aside and stay there (on the sidelines). 

In Parashat Pinchas, Hashem tells Moses that it is his time to step aside, but Hashem doesn’t say who is to take over. 

Then Adonai said to Moses, “Go up this mountain of the Abarim range and look at the land that I have given to Bnei-Yisrael. When you have seen it, you will be gathered to your people, just as Aaron your brother was gathered.” (Num 27:12–13; cf. Deut 32:48–50)

Because Hashem does not tell Moses who is to take over, it appears that Moses will be unable to train the new leader or to prepare the best manner of transition. So Moses does what had become his pattern when he had to deal with things beyond his control, he prays. 

“May Adonai, God of the spirits of all flesh, appoint a man over the community to go out and come in before them, who will lead them out and bring them out so that the people of Adonai will not be like sheep without a shepherd.” (Num 27:16–17)

Immediately Hashem responds with the answer. 

“Take Joshua son of Nun, a man in whom is the Ruach, and lay your hand on him. . . .” Moses did as Adonai commanded him. He took Joshua, stood him before Eleazar the kohen and all the entire assembly. Then he laid his hands on him and commissioned him just as Adonai had spoken, by Moses’ hand. (Num 27:18, 22–23)

Not much is said in this passage about Moses’ preparing Joshua, but earlier in Numbers we are told that Joshua son of Nun was Moses’ assistant since Joshua was but a youth (Num 11:28) and that Joshua had already proved himself faithful when he gave a good report upon returning from spying out the land  (Num 13). From these accounts it is clear that Moses has been mentoring Joshua for years. 

Likewise, in this week’s haftarah, 1 Kings 18:46–19:21, Elijah’s replacement is sprung on him with little to no preparation. Hashem’s command to Elijah to anoint his replacement almost reads like a passing thought, “Go, return on your way to the wilderness of Damascus, and when you get there, anoint Hazael king over Aram, anoint Jehu son of Nimshi king over Israel, and anoint Elisha son of Shaphat of Abel-meholah as prophet in your place” (1 Kings 19:15–16). According to tradition, Elijah then mentored Elisha for six or seven years. 

The second point gleaned from the Forbes article seems simple; the outgoing leader is to move aside and stay there (on the sidelines). This point is not an issue for either Moses or Elijah, since when the time comes to turn over the reins, Hashem takes them both away. Granted, this is not an ideal manner of being sidelined that most leaders would want to face. A much better way is for the outgoing leader to be able to say like Rav Shaul when he was preparing to go up to Jerusalem the last time, “Take care of yourselves and all the flock of which the Ruach ha-Kodesh has made you overseers, to shepherd the community of God” (Acts 20:28).  

Rav Shaul was speaking to friends, disciples, and co-workers, ones he had mentored and trained “for such a time as this.” Although Rav Shaul was not going to his immediate death, most of the individuals he was addressing would never see him again. Like Moses and Elijah, Rav Shaul had to trust that the training and mentoring each had received over the years would be enough for them to become the successful physical and spiritual leaders that their communities needed. It is safe to assume that all three of these outgoing leaders knew that there were gaps in their replacements’ training that would leave them unprepared to handle some of the situations they would face. Each of these three men had to trust that in times like these others would step in: Moses trusted that Eleazar the kohen would assist Joshua; Elijah, more than likely, trusted that other prophets would assist Elisha when he had to deal with the unknown; and from the tone of Rav Shaul’s exhortation, he expected the various communal leaders to stand together to supply what the other might need.  

Today, in many of our Messianic communities, our leadership is growing older and, well, the times they are a changin’. What worked in the past doesn’t always work today because society has changed drastically over the last few decades. Technology and social media have changed the way today’s generation reacts and responds to the world around them. Hopefully we have been training or mentoring younger leaders, preparing them to step in when it is our time to climb the mountain like Moses or to hand over the mantle like Elijah. However, if we have not yet started this process, it is not too late! We simply need to follow Moses’ pattern to pray and seek Hashem’s choice of whom to mentor and then to pour into their lives. Finally, no matter where in the process we find ourselves, we are to commission these appointed leaders and release them to do what Hashem has empowered them to do.  

My hope and prayer is that we are preparing the next generation of leaders to step in and that we step aside and let them take the reins when the time is right. 

All Scripture references are from the Tree of Life Version (TLV).

Donkey Wisdom

Parashat Chukat-Balak, Numbers 19:1–25:9

Rabbi Stuart Dauermann

In this week’s parasha we meet the pagan prophet Bil’am, hired by Balak, king of Moab, to come and curse Israel, because Balak has heard concerning Bil’am, “He whom you bless is blessed and whoever you curse is cursed.” But Bil’am warns Balak’s messengers who come to hire him that no matter how much they pay him, he can only say what Adonai puts in his mouth.

On the way to the rendezvous with Balak, Bil’am’s donkey stops in its tracks three times, finally pressing Bil’am’s leg against the wall of a vineyard. When Bil’am beats the donkey, God “opens the donkey’s mouth” (gives her the power of speech), in a rather comical interchange that results in Bil’am recognizing that the Angel of Adonai is barring his way. Why this strange story? In part it is a set-up for the grand prophecies that are to follow, mapping out the destiny and majesty of God’s chosen nation. Torah is telling us that the God who could speak truth through the mouth of a donkey, can also speak true prophecy about his chosen people through the mouth of a pagan prophet.

Bil’am blesses Israel four times:

FIRST BLESSING: How am I to curse those whom God has not cursed? How am I to denounce those whom Adonai has not denounced? From the top of the rocks I see them, from the hills I behold them yes, a people that will dwell alone and not think itself one of the nations. Who has counted the dust of Ya’akov or numbered the ashes of Israel? May I die as the righteous die! May my end be like theirs! (Num 23:8–10)

Here we see Israel as a unique people who shall “not think itself one of the nations,” a blessed people with a holy destiny. A people whom God has not cursed, but blessed. Historically, how have the Jews stood out as a differentiated people?

SECOND BLESSING: No one has seen guilt in Ya’akov, or perceived perversity in Israel; Adonai their God is with them and acclaimed as king among them. God, who brought them out of Egypt, gives them the strength of a wild ox; thus one can’t put a spell on Ya’akov, no magic will work against Israel. It can now be said of Ya’akov and Israel, “What is this that God has done?!” Here is a people rising up like a lioness; like a lion he rears himself up – he will not lie down till he eats up the prey and drinks the blood of the slain. (Num 23:21–24)

Here we see Israel as the heirs to God’s promises, a people strengthened by God, mighty and formidable, protected from occult powers. How has demonic power been unleashed on this people throughout our history?

THIRD BLESSING: How lovely are your tents, Ya’akov; your encampments, Israel! They spread out like valleys, like gardens by the riverside, like succulent aloes planted by Adonai, like cedar trees next to the water. Water will flow from their branches, their seed will have water aplenty. Their king will be higher than Agag and his kingdom lifted high. God, who brought them out of Egypt, gives them the strength of a wild ox. They will devour the nations opposing them, break their bones, pierce them with their arrows. When they lie down they crouch like a lion, or like a lioness – who dares to rouse it? Blessed be all who bless you! Cursed be all who curse you! (Num 24:5–9)

Here again, Israel is mighty, strong, formidable against its foes. But in addition, it is fruitful, blessed, and a blessing to all who bless them, while all who seek to curse them will themselves be cursed. How has Israel been a blessing to the world, and curse to those who would curse them?

FOURTH BLESSING: I see him, but not now; I behold him, but not soon – a star will step forth from Ya’akov, a scepter will arise from Israel, to crush the corners of Mo’av and destroy all descendants of Shet. His enemies will be his possessions – Edom and Se’ir, possessions. Israel will do valiantly. (Num 24:17–18)

Here we see the one who fulfills God’s purposes for Israel – the Messiah. He will be Israel’s protector and vindicator against her enemies. The nations that plundered Israel will themselves be plundered, and Israel protected by the might of God and the saving work of his Messiah. In what ways has the church from among the nations lost touch with how the Messiah remains Israel’s protector and warrior King?

Our haftarah, Micah 5:6–6:8, adds some not-to-be-missed color as we read of “the remnant of Jacob,” being victor over her enemies like a lion one dares not rouse up. We read of the purification of the descendants of Jacob from all their idolatry and spiritual corruption. We read a synopsis of the saving acts of God in bringing Israel out of Egypt, and of his determination to bless Israel despite her own stumblings, and in the end, what Adonai requires of us is to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God.

And just a few verses before this, we read of the one who brings all this blessing, the Messiah, of whom it is written “But you, Beit-Lechem near Efrat, so small among the clans of Y’hudah, out of you will come forth to me the future ruler of Israel, whose origins are far in the past, back in ancient times” (Mic 5:1 [2]). This one, the one called Beth-Lachmi, the Bethlehemite, in our Shabbat prayer “L’cha Dodi” is the one through whom these culminating blessings come over Israel.

Yeshua is the ultimate guarantor that the people of Israel, and with them, the church from among the nations, will at the end of all things, be blessed and not cursed.

Even a donkey knows that! Now you do too!

All Scripture citations are from Complete Jewish Bible (CJB).

Holiness and Difference

Parashat Korach, Numbers 16:1–18:32

Dave Nichol, Congregation Ruach Israel, Needham, MA

Our parasha, Korach, is named for the man whose actions precipitate its primary drama.

Now Korah, son of Izhar son of Kohath son of Levi, betook himself, along with Dathan and Abiram sons of Eliab, and On son of Peleth—descendants of Reuben—to rise up against Moses, together with two hundred and fifty Israelites, chieftains of the community, chosen in the assembly, men of repute. (Num 16:1–2)

On its face, the narrative seems simple, an old-fashioned rebellion against Moses and Aaron. Korach and his allies can be cast as bad dudes who cause trouble—for whatever reason—and are dealt with. A careful reading of the story, however, leaves questions. And our tradition is all about careful readings—and questions!

The firstborns take a hit

As for these challengers of Moses and Aaron, what is the nature of their beef? Korach and the other Levites seem to be focused on the priesthood:

They combined against Moses and Aaron and said to them, “You have gone too far! For all the community are holy, all of them, and the Lord is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above the Lord’s congregation?” (Num 16:3)

According to the commentator Ibn Ezra (Spain, 1089–1167), part of what’s going on here is the transition from a system where firstborn sons were dedicated to God and had the privilege of bringing offerings on behalf of their family, to a system where the priesthood is consolidated within a single family, the descendants of Aaron.

In Exodus 13:2 God commands, “Consecrate to me every first-born,” but then later he switches them out for the tribe of Levi: “The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Take the Levites in place of all the first-born among the Israelite people . . . and the Levites shall be Mine, the Lord’s” (Num 3:44–45). Korach is himself a firstborn (Exod 6:21). Ibn Ezra believes that Dathan and Abiram are involved because their tribe of Reuben lost its firstborn status to Joseph. 

Whatever his motivations, Korach’s rhetoric is brilliant: “All Israel is holy!” he says. Why should one group, Aaron’s descendants, be “more holy”? The boundaries don’t make sense to him.  

Moses doesn’t buy it. Korach himself, as a Kohathite like Moses and Aaron, is benefiting from these very boundaries. You may remember that their clan was given special roles in carrying the mishkan (Num 4:1–20). Moses rebukes Korach and his followers: 

Hear me, sons of Levi. Is it not enough for you that the God of Israel has set you apart from the community of Israel and given you access to Him, to perform the duties of the Lord’s Tabernacle and to minister to the community and serve them? Now that He has advanced you and all your fellow Levites with you, do you seek the priesthood too? (Num 16:8–10)

This language of “giving access”—hiqriv, perhaps better translated “bringing near”—is repeated at various points in the dialog. The debate is over who will have access, be close to God. Forgotten is that it is God who is doing the bringing near: “He will grant access to the one He has chosen” (Num 16:5). 

The fundamental point here is that to undermine the holiness of the priests is to undermine the very election of Israel. The idea that God has a special relationship with a “chosen” people is deeply challenging to some. Even Korach, a Levite—the elect of the elect!—struggles with the idea that God’s mode of redeeming the world is through calling out certain people and not others.

Only last week in Parashat Shelach we read of the mitzvah of setting aside a part of the bread we bake “as a gift for the Lord” (Num 15:19–21). When Paul references this commandment, he is applying it to a chosen segment of the people of Israel: “If the firstfruit is holy, so is the whole batch of dough; and if the root is holy, so are the branches” (Rom 11:16 TLV).

Recall that holiness means “separateness.” Rabbi Jonathan Sacks sees the Bible’s focus on a single people as one of its essential ideas: 

God, the creator of humanity, having made a covenant with all humanity, then turns to one people and commands it to be different, teaching humanity to make space for difference.” God may at times be found in human other, the one not like us . . . the unity of God is to be found in the diversity of creation.” (The Dignity of Difference, p. 53, emphasis original)

Israel must reflect this idea of holiness and redemptive difference both in its relationship to other nations (Num 23:9), and internally. But Korach is not on board with this vision . . . and he’s not the only one.

Moses’ change management problem

Moses is implementing (part of) God’s plan for redeeming the world throughout the middle books of the Torah. In Exodus a people is made separate and pulled out from captivity, and a physical mishkan is built. In Leviticus a sacrificial system is arranged. In Numbers the people themselves are ordered, structured in a way appropriate to their calling. Just as any organization’s structure needs to fit its mission, so Israel needs to be reshaped.

Lest we think that Korach was just a bad egg, we find that even after the ground swallows Korach and his allies, the Israelites continue the revolt, though their complaint has changed:

Next day the whole Israelite community railed against Moses and Aaron, saying, “You two have brought death upon the Lord’s people!” (Num 17:6)

The Israelites’ response angers God, who sends a plague that kills more than 14,000. But even that doesn’t seem to convince everyone, because afterwards we still need a miracle: each tribal chieftain hands over his staff, and only Aaron’s buds and blooms, confirming that God, not Moses, is choosing him (Num 16:21–24).

Indeed, looking for a motive or primary complaint of the rebels may be a fruitless endeavor: it may be simply that people don’t like change. Wikipedia’s article on change management puts it succinctly: “One of the major factors which hinders the change management process is people’s natural tendency for inertia. Just as in Newton’s first law of motion, people are resistant to change in organizations because it can be uncomfortable.”

So as Moses attempts to reshape Israel into a holy nation, one that is even structured in these concentric circles of escalating holiness, he is colliding with established interests and asking the people to change, which, as noted above, people are not always good at. Maybe he would benefit from a crash course in change management.

The most patient CEO

In my experience, the most important characteristic for anyone attempting to make change, is patience. It could be making a company more customer-focused, or addressing systemic injustice in society. Change always takes time. We can imagine Martin Luther King, Jr. and the prophet Elijah commiserating this fact right now—“Man, the moral arc of the universe is even longer than I expected!” “Bro, you have no idea.”

How will it end? When will there be justice, or peace? At some point there’s little difference between having patience and having faith! 

To use corporate-speak, Korach is not aligned with the vision God has for Israel. The big question for us reading his story today is, are we aligned with God’s vision for Israel? If becoming aligned requires us to change, or to forgo privilege that we are accustomed to, can we do it? Do we have the humility to adjust if we suspect we might be missing a part of God’s vision? What if our goals aren’t lined up with His as much as we thought? On the other hand, can we be patient for change, recognizing how rare it is for meaningful change to be achieved in only a generation or two? 

We will be part of this story regardless, for good or ill, with the grain or against it. Whatever our part, the Holy One is still at the work of completing creation, and while we cannot see the end, change is happening. It is not required of us to complete the work, but only to play our part (Pirkei Avot 2:16). Let’s get on board with the vision and do what we can.

Unless otherwise noted, all Bible citations are from the JPS Tanakh translation.

Speaking Truth in Trust

Parashat Sh’lach L’cha, Numbers 13:1–15:41
Chaim Dauermann, Congregation Simchat Yisrael, West Haven, CT

Nowadays, amid discussions about various matters, it is not uncommon to be told, “Do your own research.” I have found that this phrase is often shorthand for, “Go and see the things that I’ve seen, and then you will think the way that I think.” This discourse belittles the value of research, casting it as a means of proving others wrong, rather than as a means of discerning the truth of a matter, and understanding our purpose in it. It needn’t be so. Yet it often is.

But what happens when the admonition to do one’s own research comes from God himself?

In this week’s parasha, the Lord has commanded Moses to send a scouting party from the Israelite camp in Paran into the land of Canaan, which God has promised to them as a possession. According to God’s instructions, Moses selects one leader from each of the twelve tribes of Israel, and sends them all into the land to scout for 40 days, and then bring back a report of what they’ve found. Among the twelve, Joshua son of Nun is called from Ephraim, and Caleb son of Jephunneh is called from Judah. When they return from their scouting mission, they bring fruit from the land—grapes, pomegranates, and figs, a far cry from the manna the Israelites had become accustomed to.

They gave their account to him and said, “We went into the land where you sent us. Indeed it is flowing with milk and honey—this is some of its fruit. Except, the people living in the land are powerful, and the cities are fortified and very large. We even saw the sons of Anak there! Amalek is living in the land of the Negev, the Hittites, Jebusites, and Amorites are living in the mountains, and the Canaanites are living near the sea and along the bank of the Jordan.” (Num 13:27–29)

At this, Caleb steps forward and adds, “We should definitely go up and capture the land, for we can certainly do it!” (13:30). Joshua remains silent, but the remaining ten push back against Caleb: “We cannot attack these people, because they are stronger than we” (13:31). The ten proceed to spread discord within the camp, riling people up with their stories not only of formidable cities, but enormous men as well. “We also saw there the Nephilim. (The sons of Anak are from the Nephilim.) We seemed like grasshoppers in our eyes as well as theirs!” (13:32–33).

The situation soon gets entirely out of hand. The Torah records that the children of Israel spend the night in a state of unrest, yelling and weeping. And not for the first time, they complain that they have been brought out of Egypt for nothing. “Why is Adonai bringing us to this land to fall by the sword? Our wives and children will be like plunder! Wouldn’t it be better for us to return to Egypt?” (14:3). They even suggest that they should pick a new leader and head back to Egypt. Caleb and Joshua tear their garments, and push back against their fellows:

“The land through which we passed is an exceptionally good land! If Adonai is pleased with us, He will lead us into that land and will give it to us—a land flowing with milk and honey. Only don’t rebel against Adonai, and don’t be afraid of the people of the land. They will be food for us. The protection over them is gone. Adonai is with us! Do not fear them.” (Num 14:7–9)

But the people don’t want to hear it. They even threaten to stone Caleb and Joshua to death.

God intervenes and speaks to Moses, and in the end, the consequence of this rebellion is that the children of Israel are left to wander in the desert for 40 years before entering the land. And, as if this were not punishment enough, every person among them over 20 years of age is to die before the nation takes possession of the land. It is only their children who will inherit the land. As for the ten spies who brought the bad report, they soon die of a plague. Joshua and Caleb are the only ones exempted from these consequences—they will live to enter the land.

It’s an interesting scenario. The ten spies presumably merely wished to preserve their lives. Surely, the things they saw must have been deeply terrifying, since they so easily overwhelmed the allure of Canaan’s abundance. They could not have known the consequences of their bad report, nor that their sin would ultimately condemn their entire community. Joshua and Caleb spied out the same land, and yet their response was not the same. The difference for them was that they put their faith in God first, before any feeling of doubt fomented by what they had seen. They knew the land had been promised.

Before the twelve spies went into Canaan to observe the land, Moses gave Joshua a new name. His name had previously been Hoshea, which means “saves,” but Moses added one letter to his name—a yod—changing it to Yehoshua (in English: Joshua) which means, roughly, “God saves.” By trusting that salvation comes from the Lord, Joshua merited a  reward, even if its coming was not immediate. Indeed, by doing the right thing, Joshua and Caleb put themselves in short-term danger, not only from the immediate threat of stoning at the hand of their community, but also from 40 years of whatever social consequences they suffered as a result of their actions. Their knowledge that they had acted in faith, and that their faith was well-placed, had to be enough to sustain them.

In the eye of Scripture, 40 years is not such a long time. And sometimes a good report takes a lot longer than that to come to fruition.

When God sent his Son to the world, he was given the name Yeshua, a shortened version of Yehoshua that had become common by that time. In the first century, the apostles carried Yeshua’s simple message of faith and salvation to the world. The Apostle Paul summed it up in his letter to the Romans: “For if you confess with your mouth that Yeshua is Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved” (Rom 10:9). Tradition holds that eleven of the twelve original apostles died on account of their good report. Paul, too, perished as a martyr. Only the Apostle John was left to die in old age, and from his exile on Patmos he wrote of a coming fulfillment of God’s promise, an ultimate culmination of all things: “He shall wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more. Nor shall there be mourning or crying or pain any longer, for the former things have passed away” (Rev 21:4). That John would die without seeing this promise fulfilled does not make it any less true, nor his cause any less just. A good report is not of any less value if our community rejects it, or if we suffer physical threats on account of it. Caleb and Joshua’s good report was based on long-term trusting. The author of Hebrews identifies this faith as “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of realities not seen” (Heb 11:1). It’s worthy of note that this speaks nothing of results.

When we investigate something fully, we must not only stand on the truth of what we find, but also on our faith that God will deliver on his promises. If we know that a promise of peace and reconciliation awaits us at the fulfillment of all things, our report must stand on this very faith, even as it should also be true to what we have seen, heard, and learned. Whatever short-term loss such a good report might bring, God’s promise remains one of grace without end.

All Scripture citations are from Tree of Life Version (TLV).

Let's Discard Our Domesticated God

Parashat Beha’alot’cha, Numbers 8:1–12:16

by Rabbi Stuart Dauermann

Ours is an expeditious God. When we feel sad, he makes us happy. When we feel weak, he makes us strong. When we need a parking place, he helps us find one. When we fear death, he makes us confident. When we fear social unrest and change, he backs our candidates and defeats “the bad guys.” He is wrapped in an American flag, but also especially favors Israel . . . and as for the other nations? Well, we don’t know about that: but us and Israel? Solid! Just as we have a personal trainer to make us strong, we have a personal Savior to make us safe. And we have a heavenly Father to tuck us in at night. Conveniently domesticated.

In the words of David Bentley Hart, our very concept of God has become “thoroughly impoverished, thoroughly mythical.” We have reduced God to the captain of our team. To call this blasphemy, to call it idolatry, is the kindest thing we might say of where just about all of us are right now. The great non-contingent Being, the I Am that I Am, is wholly other, dependent on nothing, and never ever to be classed as the greatest of the bunch in any way shape or form because our concept of bunches is Tinker-Toy material utterly irrelevant to envisioning the infinite matchless wonder of the Uncreated One. Because we are mere creatures of time and space, animated dust, we are utterly incapable of even imagining what he is like.

To find and nurture true knowledge of God, we must go beyond imagination to revelation.

We may only speak and think of God in the ways he has revealed himself to us, and even then, we may be confident of this: more often than not, we get it wrong, and we are the last to know that, if ever. Therefore, when daring to speak or think of the God of all that is or ever could be, it pays to be radically humble, a capacity which is itself beyond our grasp. But let’s at least realize that this radical humility is a destination toward which we should point ourselves, like Abraham leaving the idolatry of his father’s ways and his comfortable homeland for a yet undiscovered country.

A marvelous passage from our Torah reading reminds us of the humility, the responsive docility, which should characterize all aspects of our being, thinking, acting, and community awareness. 

On the day the tabernacle was put up, the cloud covered the tabernacle. . . . Whenever the cloud was taken up from above the tent, the people of Isra’el continued their travels; and they camped wherever the cloud stopped. At the order of Adonai, the people of Isra’el traveled; at the order of Adonai, they camped; and as long as the cloud stayed over the tabernacle, they stayed in camp. Even when the cloud remained on the tabernacle for a long time, the people of Isra’el did what Adonai had charged them to do and did not travel. Sometimes the cloud was a few days over the tabernacle; according to Adonai’s order, they remained in camp; and according to Adonai’s order, they traveled. Sometimes the cloud was there only from evening until morning; so that when the cloud was taken up in the morning, they traveled. Or even if it continued up both day and night, when the cloud was up, they traveled. Whether it was two days, a month or a year that the cloud remained over the tabernacle, staying on it, the people of Isra’el remained in camp and did not travel; but as soon as it was taken up, they traveled. At Adonai’s order, they camped; and at Adonai’s order, they traveled—they did what Adonai had charged them to do through Moshe. (Numbers 9:15, 17–23 CJB)

If you just gave that passage a quick read, you need to read it again, this time slowly. You are likely to find yourself antsy, or as we say in Yiddish, to have shpilkes, when you read it because it describes a God who keeps us waiting, who is unpredictable and inconvenient. The 16th century commentator Ovadia Sforno reminds us, “even when the location selected by the cloud was not only inhospitable, but the cloud remained there for a long period, the Israelites did not grumble or protest this fact. They did not start journeying on their own, looking for a more suitable place to encamp.” We could learn a lot from our ancestors here. They did not understand what God was doing, but they realized he was not simply their assistant, or even the captain of their team. They knew he was God. A God who calls the shots, and tells us when to stay, and when to go, how long to stay, and how long to keep moving. A God who doesn’t care to justify himself to us, and whom we dare not ask, “Why are you doing this to us?”

He is a God who thinks he is God, because that is who he is. 

Dag Hammarskjold catches a whiff of that reality to which we are too much strangers when he says this: “For all that has been, Thanks. To all that shall be, Yes.” 

Let’s not make the Ever-living God over into our own image. Let’s turn away from our domesticated, thoroughly impoverished, thoroughly mythical God. Instead, let’s just pay careful attention and follow the cloud and the fire. Let us always point ourselves toward radical humility. Let’s follow orders. And let our tattoo never say, “God is on our side!” Instead, let it say, “Whatever you say, Adonai.”

Bless is More

Parashat Naso, Numbers 4:21–7:89

By Rabbi Paul L. Saal, Congregation Shuvah Yisrael, West Hartford, CT

This week’s parasha contains one of only two prescribed blessings in all of Torah, the Birkat Kohanim.  

Adonai bless you and keep you!
Adonai make His face to shine on you and be gracious to you!
Adonai turn His face toward you and grant you shalom! (Numbers 6:22–26 TLV) 

This blessing is so familiar to us; it is part of the morning shacharit, and is traditionally chanted by the Kohanim, descendants of the priestly line, on Yom Kippur. Parents also say it over children on Erev Shabbat. I find it so meaningful that at Congregation Shuvah Yisrael it is our custom to have a Kohen deliver this blessing every Shabbat at the end of mussaf.  

This blessing is a cleverly crafted gem, which becomes particularly evident when it’s studied in Hebrew. The blessing contains an increasing pattern of words on each line (three, five, seven) and an increasing pattern of both consonants (fifteen, twenty, twenty-five), and syllables (twelve, fourteen, sixteen). The very wording therefore creates a sense of meter, order, climax, and completion.  

What is ultimately apparent in the recitation of this blessing is that the Kohen serves an appointed and vital, yet limited role. He is not a magician generating magic, but a channel for blessing to pass through on the way from the Holy Blessing One to the Jewish people. For that reason, each line begins by mentioning God as the active agent, and the last line explicitly states the words of Hashem, “In this way they are to place My Name over Bnei-Yisrael, and so I will bless them” (Num 6:27). 

Interestingly the entire blessing is phrased in the singular, an unusual phenomenon in Torah, which generally speaks to Israel in communal language. So why this anomaly? The simplest answer is that Torah does not conceive of any one person to be holy in a way that is different from the holiness of any other human being. At the same time, the priestly blessing reminds us of the sanctity of all humanity, and the awesome otherness of the God of Israel. This is of course an answer that would satisfy the universalistic spirit of this age. It sounds great, but is it true? In fact, Torah makes a point of establishing unique roles not only for Israel as a whole, but within Israel. The entire book of Vayikra (Leviticus) establishes the role of the sons of Aaron as priests, as does this blessing itself. And the blessing follows the precise details of Nazarite dedication, a path to a greater exhibition of holy behavior and commitment to Hashem. Torah establishes specific leadership positions, and much of the book of Bemidbar exposes the folly of transgressing godly leadership. In fact, this very idea is expressed by the villainous Korach when he incites mutiny against Moses by querying, “Aren’t all of Israel holy?” Holy yes, but all the same . . . ? I don’t think so.  

I think there is a more plausible explanation, that it is not always possible or even wise to extend the same blessing to everyone uniformly. For the farmer, rain may be an anxiously awaited blessing, but for a beach port vacationer, not so much. Wealth, good looks, or extraordinary talent might be tremendous gifts for one person, yet a tremendous burden for another. The fact is that only the Designer of all creation and the Endower of all gifts and resources knows what blessing is most appropriate for whom. Therefore, he instructs the kohanim to bless the people in the singular; so that each person might receive the blessing that is most appropriate for him or her. 

To this effect Rashi comments on the first verse of the Birkat Kohanim, “May God bless you and safeguard you” (6:24), by saying that we will be blessed with wealth and talent and guarded from dangers. Though the order may seem incorrect, and an individual might need to be protected before he or she is blessed, not all dangers are physical and external. A person who is given much wealth, for instance, may find that the money is their downfall. The Kohen’s blessing asks, therefore, that we be blessed with much wealth and safeguarded against its evil effects. Isn’t this what Yeshua meant when he taught us to pray, “Grant us our daily bread and lead us not into temptation”? I often pray for my children that they should never want for that which they need, but never have so much that they would enter perdition as a result.  

The second section of the blessing refers to M’ohr Torah, the light or illumination of Torah. May God enlighten you with the wondrous wisdom of Torah. Having the blessing of prosperity, we can go beyond the elementary requirements of survival. 

Finally, the third part of the blessing might express Hashem’s unconditional capacity to forgive. Again, Rashi explains this prayer stating, “May He suppress His anger toward you.” This means that by His countenance being upon you, God will show each of His people special consideration even if they are sinful. Therefore, when the Holy Blessing One places His gentle gaze upon us, we can lift our heads even when we are unworthy. 

This blessing is more than an ancient link to our tradition; it is an ongoing instruction to rely upon the beneficence of God. On exhibit in the Israel Museum in Jerusalem are artifacts from the excavation of a burial plot from the end of the First Temple period.  Among the exhibit is a small thin silver plaque the size of a thumb. Inscribed on it in Hebrew is the Birkat Kohanim. An observant Jew wore the same prayer that we are blessed with each week some 2600 years ago! We are blessed with the same prayers that have been echoed through countless generations.  

Much in human history changes; our customs, styles and cultures swell and shift radically. But there are three constants:

1)      The human heart retains many of the same needs, urges, and concerns throughout time.

2)      The God of Israel has not changed or faltered despite our changing perceptions of the divine.

3)      The covenant with Israel is still the tie that binds all of humanity to the God who gives us His good name – the Greatest Blessing of All!

The Barren Place of the Word

Parashat B’midbar, Numbers 1:1–4:20

Rabbi Russ Resnik

 We’re doing a lot of counting these days.

The numbers of those afflicted with COVID-19, those who have succumbed to the disease, and those who have recovered, are tabulated and posted daily, as are the numbers projected for these categories in the near future. We’re also counting facemasks, ventilators, hospital beds, and the likely span of months or years before we have a vaccine. Lots of numbers! And it’s all happening in the year 2020, as the USA is taking the head-count mandated for every ten years in our Constitution.

In this setting we commence our reading of the fourth book of the Torah, B’midbar, and immediately confront . . . another head count. The Lord commands Moses, “Take a census of all the congregation of the people of Israel, by clans, by fathers’ houses, according to the number of names, every male, head by head” (Num 1:2). Rashi notes the date of this command, given in verse 1, “the first day of the second month [Iyar],” and comments:

Because they were dear to Him, He counted them often. When they left Egypt, He counted them (Exod 12:37); when many fell because of the golden calf, He counted them to know the number of the survivors (Exod 32:28); [and now] when He came to cause His Divine Presence to rest among them, He counted them. On the first of Nissan, the Mishkan was erected [Exod 40:1], and on the first of Iyar [one month later], He counted them.  

It’s a lovely picture of God as a man who counts and recounts his treasure because it is so precious to him—and the treasure is his people, us. But Rashi, as he often does, seems to be answering an unstated question here. Centuries after Moses, David decides (or is actually incited by the Lord) to “number Israel and Judah” and incurs God’s judgment for doing so (2 Sam 24:1, 10–14). So, why is one sort of census commanded in the Torah, and another condemned? Rashi looks for motive, whether the head-count arises out of God’s love and adds to his glory, or out of ill-conceived human desire.

When David orders his chief-of-staff Joab to conduct the head-count, Joab objects: “May the Lord your God add to the people a hundred times as many as they are, while the eyes of my lord the king still see it, but why does my lord the king delight in this thing?” (2 Sam 24:3). Joab, not always the paragon of godliness, gets it right this time. He contrasts head-counting with simple trust in God. We might wonder how much of our coronavirus head-counting is driven by anxiety, which ultimately is lack of trust in God. Yes, the numbers will help formulate our response to the pandemic, but there’s also something reassuring about reducing the chaos to statistics, even if the statistics change day by day. Perhaps it’s no coincidence that the Lord tells Moses to take a census b’midbar, “in the wilderness,” a threatening and scary place, a “great and awesome desert, in which were fiery serpents and scorpions and thirsty land where there was no water” (Deut 8:15). Israel is about to spend an entire generation in this desert (although they don’t know it yet), and so God provides a sense of order by decreeing a head-count before they set out. 

But wilderness in Scripture isn’t only a dangerous and imposing place, it’s also a place of heightened encounter with God. We’re in Parashat B’midbar, but the first word of our parasha isn’t B’midbar, it’s Vaydaber: Yaydaber Hashem el Moshe b’midbar Sinai—“And the Lord spoke to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai.” Of course, Vaydaber is one of the most common terms in Torah, where the Lord is speaking throughout. We wouldn’t expect our parasha to be named after this word, but we shouldn’t miss this word’s significance here either.

In the wilderness God speaks. The Hebrew word for wilderness, midbar, hints at this truth. We can detect in this word the Hebrew root dabar – meaning “word” or “speak”, as in vaydaber. The first letter in midbar, mem, is prefixed to some Hebrew words to signify “place”, as in mikdash—kadash or “holy” preceded by mem to signify “holy place”—or mishkan, the tabernacle or “place of shakhan, dwelling” that Rashi mentions above. And so we can imagine midbar as the place of the word. Wilderness is the place where God speaks. In this barren setting the normal props to human pride and comfort fall away. Our usual distractions are missing. Its very hostility toward the human suits wilderness as the place to hear the divine word.

The earliest account of the life of Messiah opens in the desert. John is “the voice of one crying in the wilderness” foretold by the prophet Isaiah (Mark 1:3). Like Moses, John calls the Israelites out to the wilderness to encounter God. They prepare for the encounter by immersing in the Jordan and confessing their sins. Yeshua also goes out to John in the desert and is also immersed, and then goes farther into the desert to be tempted (Mark 1:12–13). After his temptation he goes back to the villages and towns of Israel, but he continually returns to the desolate place or wilderness to seek God and pray (Mark 1:35, 45). As the story goes on, Yeshua takes his followers—us!—out to a desolate place as well (Mark 6:31). Yeshua and his band will continue to serve the needs of the people in towns and villages, but they also withdraw at times to be close with God.

In the wilderness God speaks. Torah is teaching us that it is in places of uncertainty, challenge, and temptation that we find God. The uncertainty we’re facing today can become the source of new understanding and nearness to God. Messiah has already ventured forth into this wilderness and he beckons us to follow him there.  

The Hero’s Journey Home

Parashat Behar-Bechukotai, Leviticus 25:1 - 27:34

by David Wein, Tikvat Israel Messianic Synagogue, Richmond, VA

The month was May, and the year was 2019, so it was . . . last year. Those were, of course, simpler times. Sonya and I drove up to Maryland to visit Beth Messiah. For Parshat Emor, I shared a sermon on the Brit Hadashah portion in John 10; I became a shepherd complete with matching staff:

My wife, Sonya, and I spent a great oneg and Shabbat afternoon schmoozing with the folks, and then I dropped her off at a train heading back home to Richmond.

 I kept waving and ran after the train, much to the delight of Sonya and her newly introduced traveling buddies. It would be two weeks until I saw her again. I was going on a quest, my own hero’s journey. I would travel to an alien realm (New England), where I would acquire a mentor (or a few), suffer some minor trials, become transformed, and return home to my beloved. At least, that’s how I view it now, having since taken a class with Rabbi Russ Resnik, who’s quite into these sorts of literary paradigms.  

Beth Messiah was just the first stop. I continued up to New Jersey, where I figured if I couldn’t be with my wife, I could at least be with her family. Seeing Sonya’s family was beyond encouraging, as always; they prayed a blessing on my journey as I continued onward. Though I was a little sad saying goodbye to my bride, the prayers of her family enlivened my heart.  

The next day I picked up Rabbi Ben Volman, who had flown into Newark Airport just a few minutes away. We had our own hero’s adventure that day consisting of an authentic Jewish deli (these are few and far between in Richmond), George Washington’s Headquarters (a historic site), and eventually a Jewish retreat center in Connecticut.  

It was here that I would spend a few days doing a Midrash study on Song of Songs with many of my mentors and colleagues, led by the inimitable Rav Carl Kinbar.

 At the same time I was excited to be doing text study, I was also confronted with some of my insecurities; learning alongside many of my teachers was intimidating at times. However, being in Jewish space, surrounded by some of my favorite people, eating in a kosher kitchen, studying Jewish texts—there was much to be thankful for. The only part that made me sad was being without my wife. This was the longest period we had ever been apart, and I shared with her every day all the cool things I was experiencing and learning.

 After that, I spent a few days staying with Rabbi Paul Saal, and spent some time with him and his family. I had the honor of sharing a Devar Torah with his community the following Shabbat. It was the same as this week’s Torah portion, and I spoke about the Realm of Holiness.  

The parasha starts off by explaining the year of the yovel, sometimes translated as Jubilee, but I like the way Everett Fox renders it: Homebringing. The basic idea of the sermon was that God’s realm is holy and good, and Shabbat, Yom Kippur, the Jubilee, the Tabernacle, the Messiah, these are all part of his plan for the holy realm to intercept the earth, as it was in Eden. Here is an excerpt from the sermon I gave at Shuvah Yisrael in Connecticut:

The year of the yovel is described in a few places, but here, the combination of Atonement and Shabbat is in play. First, every seven years the land itself gets to rest, to reset. Then, just as the Holy of Holies gets a reset for Yom Kippur, the whole land of Israel gets a reset for Jubilee. The Realm of Hashem rests and resets. But the emphasis here is a moral reset, where enslavement is obliterated, What happens to indentured servants? They are released. What happens to evicted families? They return home.  

The principle here, expressed a few lines down, is that the land belongs to Israel only in a sense. Who is the real owner of the land of Israel? Hashem owns the land, it is his realm, his dominion, which he has given to the people of Israel to steward. Verse 23 reminds us of this central theme: “The land is mine; you are nothing but strangers and residents within it.”

“But, David,” I hear you protesting: “I thought the land was a promise connected to the covenant with Abraham? God will bless our descendants and bring us into the land so that all nations will be blessed through Abraham’s descendants. So isn’t the land ours?” The promise has a purpose: mediating blessing through Israel. This is the ultimate purpose of Hashem for the people and the land, but the history contains examples of the land vomiting out the people, due to what? Idol worship and gross immorality and mistreatment of the poor. This should not surprise us: an unclean people who defile the land cannot abide in it, for the land is Kadosh. Because of the mercy of Hashem, Exile always gives way to Return. The land is God’s, and he has given it to Israel to garden, to shepherd, to enact restoration, and to worship Him alone. And even when we mess it up and are cast out of the holy realm, he always brings us back, or even sometimes brings it back to us.  

And so, here we see the ultimate goal: restorative justice because the realm of God belongs to God. The land is his, and more importantly, the people are his. On this special Yom Kippur, every 49 years, we get a reset from moral and economic pollution, so that the whole land is Kadosh.  

Isn’t this the idea of Shabbat? Every seven days, we reset, and we enter the holy realm not of space, but of what? Time. Every seven years, and every 49 years, the land and people reset like Eden, in the abode of God.

That’s why I like the word “homebringing” for yovel. In this case, I found Eden to be breaking into the alien realm of New England. The end of the hero’s journey, the end of my journey, and the end of all our journeys, is either bringing us back to Eden, or bringing Eden back to us. In other words, the realm of heaven breaks into the realm of earth, as with the tabernacle.  Home, Exile, and Return. This is one of the principles underneath the Jubilee narrative, and the Torah as a whole. The other principle is that everything we have and everything we are belong to God. Our journey, our work, our possessions, our spouses, our children, our parents, our lives—they all belong to him; we’re just leasing them, stewarding them. The realms of heaven and earth belong to God, which of course is the opening line of the Torah. These two principles lead to deeper trust, deeper shalom.  

While I was still up north, I went to my 15-year college reunion in Connecticut, hung out with my old prayer buddy from college, and drove back toward home. I first saw my beloved again at a Tikkun conference in Maryland. We ran to each other like the final scene of some romantic comedy, or perhaps an epic adventure. And even though I hadn’t yet reached Richmond, home had come to me.  

The Blemished and the Whole

Parashat Emor, Leviticus 21:1–24:23

By Rabbi Paul L. Saal, Shuvah Yisrael, West Hartford, CT

For decades, Western society has been making concerted efforts to be more accepting and inclusive of those who have physical and mental disabilities. This means that accommodations must be made for impediments that have historically restricted people from living fully integrated into the greater society. In the past most of “civilized” society dealt with others’ handicaps by turning a blind eye. At best, the disabled were treated with dismissive sympathies and self-congratulatory charity; at worst they were often blamed for their disabilities and pushed to the margins of society. Only recently has the conversation turned toward treating those with disabilities as fully enfranchised members of society, rather than isolating them and consigning them to lives of degradation and exclusion.

Scripture also speaks of such disabilities through a complex balance of values, priorities, and perceptions. On the one hand, many of the heroes of the Bible suffered from physical and mental handicaps. Jacob limped, Isaac was blind, Moses had a speech impediment (and a fragile ego), Miriam dealt with dermatological concerns, and Saul clearly had bouts of depression and possibly psychosis. Rav Shaul dealt with some type of ailment but preferred to refer to it as “a thorn in the flesh,” leaving us to wonder about his issues of deep shame. What is most important to acknowledge is that these leaders were able to function in exemplary fashion.

But the narrative of Scripture is neither simple nor always inclusive. The parasha for this week, Emor, seems to prefer “wholeness” of both sacrifice and those who presented the sacrifice. The sacrifice could not suffer from any mum (defect) or it would be disqualified! This is an exclusion that I would imagine brought little complaint from the animal community of ancient Israel. But what I find most disturbing on its face is the disqualification of any kohen (priest) who exhibits permanent physical malady. “Any man of your offspring throughout their generations in whom there is a blemish shall not come near to offer food of his God” (Vayikra 21:17). The really troubling part is the elaboration that follows. Those who are blind, those who are lame are excluded. Then it gets personal! If your arm or leg is too long or too short, if you suffer from spine curvature or dwarfism, a scar, scurvy, or crushed testes you are eliminated!

It would be nice to dismiss this as merely a product of its time, but because it is part of the Holy Torah it must be addressed, and we should examine the legacy it has had on historical Judaism and perhaps even the taint it has left on the broader society. We cannot deny that this passage and others have lent a kind of legitimacy to the dehumanization of the disabled. Rabbinic legislation at one time forbade the disabled from participating as fully enfranchised members of Jewish society, either by functioning as acceptable witnesses in legal proceedings or by being part of a minyan. Why? Because Torah said so! Thank God this has been rethought, but in order to wash away the impure legacy of such thinking we need to continue to discuss and dismiss it as the intent of Torah.

There is another way, then, to understand this portion of Torah. Rather than merely seeing the service of the kohen as the privilege of the gifted, we might instead see it as the responsibility of the “whole” to the “broken.” Many commentators have noted, as I have, the relationship between the exclusions of the sacrifice and those of the kohanim. They are precisely the same. Sefer HaChinuch, a 13th-century exposition on the 613 commandments, notes, “There are disfigurements that disqualify a kohen from serving, and if they are in an animal they disqualify it from being brought as an offering.” There is an indelible relationship between the animal that will perish on the altar and the one who takes its life. The slaughterer is forced to identify with the terror of the sacrificed animal and to perform the unsavory task of exchanging one life for another. It should also be noted that while specific disfigurements may prevent one from being the slaughtered or the slaughterer, they never prevent any person in the ranks of Israel from bringing a sacrifice. So, it is the unfortunate task of both unblemished animal and unblemished kohen to provide restitution and restoration for those who are blemished.

It is also helpful to consider the expanded meaning of the Hebrew word mum, blemish. In the Bible mum refers to moral as well as physical blemishes (see Deut 32:5, where it is often translated crooked or warped). It is used extensively in this sense in the Talmud: “Do not ascribe to your fellow your own blemish” (BM 59b). If a man falsely accused someone of being a slave, it was evident that he himself was a slave, since “a person stigmatizes another with his own blemish” (Kid 70b). So we might further understand that while it is really only the morally “unblemished” that can offer redemption to the “blemished,” it is actually the responsibility of the “whole” to bring “wholeness” to the otherwise “broken.” A denial of such responsibility, and the stigmatizing of others, might just be a justification for our own deepest sense of “brokenness.”

It is no wonder then that when Yeshua was confronted by self-righteous pietists concerning the rather blemished company that he kept, he responded by saying, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous but sinners” (Mark 2:17, Luke 5:31, Matt 9:12). Yeshua does not challenge the health of those who dismiss the health of others, but reminds them if they have received the gift of health, then they are indeed responsible for those who have not. In the same way that he is both kohen and sacrifice, he beckons us to follow him and live sacrificially daily (Luke 9:23).

We as they are challenged to see that we are all to some degree handicapped. We all must confront our weaknesses, our inabilities, and our injuries, both physical and emotional. But if we are willing to be honest and acknowledge our brokenness we can be made whole and bring wholeness to others.

This commentary originally appeared in this series in May 2017.