Parashat Vaethanan: Destruction, construction and the Image of God

 Parashat Vaethanan: Destruction, construction and the Image of God, Av 5782 
(Deuteronomy 3:23-7:11)

Hebrew

In the covenant between God and Israel, hardly any transgression is as serious as idolatry, as Moses warns repeatedly in his predictions of what will come to pass after he is no longer on the scene; for example:

Do not to act wickedly and make for yourselves a sculptured image in any likeness whatever: the form of a man or a woman... (Deuteronomy 4:16 and others following)

And also in the Ten Commandments:

You shall not make for yourself a sculptured image, any likeness of what is in the heavens above, or on the earth below, or in the waters below the earth. (Deuteronomy 5:8).

In the Haftara, Isaiah addresses the issue from a different angle, and emphasizes that the very effort to depict God using inanimate materials is doomed to failure (quoted below). The gap is too wide to be bridged.

Does this mean that God has no representation on earth?

In an article “Religion and Race”(reprinted in Insecurity of Freedom) first published in 1963, Rabbi
Abraham Joshua Heschel cries out against the violence directed at the family of James Meredith (the first Black student at the University of Mississippi), quotes the Ten Commandments and continues:

James Meredith,
accompanied by federal officials,
enrolling in the University of Mississippi
(Library of Congress)

And yet there is something in the world that the Bible does regard as a symbol of God. It is not a temple or a tree, it is not a statue or a star. The symbol of God is man, every man. How significant is the fact that the term tselem, which is frequently used in a damnatory sense for a man-made image of God, as well as the term demuth, likeness—of which Isaiah [in this week's Hafatara] claims (40:18), no demuth can be applied to God—are employed in denoting man as an image and likeness of God. Man, every man, must be treated with the honor due to a likeness representing the King of kings. (emphasis, SMZ)

This idea is is especially important in the week after Tisha B'av. It holds a key to destruction and rebuilding.

Why was the First Temple destroyed? Due to three sins: Idol worship, forbidden sexual relations, and bloodshed... 
Why was the Second Temple destroyed? Because of baseless hatred.
 (Babylonian Talmud, Yoma 9b)

Following Rabbi Heschel's train of thought, forbidden sexual relations (in which I would include all sexual and gender-based violence) and bloodshed are crude, violent acts of desecration. The baseless hatred for which the Second Temple was destroyed, moves the desecration from external violence into the human heart.

That is the destruction. How do we rebuild? By internalizing that every human is an image of God. In Midrash Tehillim (chapter 17) Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi claims that angels walk before each person and proclaim: “Make room for the image of the Holy Blessed One.” Make room to respect the person in front of you.

We could make a significant contribution to the healing the deep divisions in our society, if we were to make the effort to see the image of God standing before us in every inter-personal interaction, not only with people similar to us, when that’s relatively easy, but also with those who are different. Not yielding to them or agreeing with whatever they say or do, but rather carefully responding in a relevant and respectful manner. 

Just imagine what could happen if everyone involved treated each other as if they were images of God. The substance of the dispute would remain unchanged, but the path towards resolving it would be transformed. This is a complex personal, social, and spiritual challenge. Even if we make the effort, we won't succeed every time. But every success, no matter how small, will bring healing to our wounds.  

We are in the midst of another fifth election cycle because the previous four did not lead to decisive results. The substance of the debates remain as they were, but if we learn to honor the divine image in each one of us, the path toward a solution will be transformed.  

Change depends on us. The effort is enormous, but also essential to ensure our continued existence in the Land of Israel.

Parashat Beha‘alotecha: What bothered Jethro?

Hebrew

Like the Book of Numbers as a whole, Parashat Beha‘alotecha begins with detailed instructions for organizing the Israelite camp and assigning necessary tasks, so that the people would be able to progress efficiently towards the Land of Israel. Everything looks promising but it isn’t long before everything starts disintegrate and rebellions begin. What changed? It’s not clear, but in the gap between order and disorder, there is a brief incident that could potentially cast light on the issue:

Moses said to Hobab son of Reuel the Midianite, Moses’ father-in-law, “We are setting out for the place of which the Eternal  has said, ‘I will give it to you.’ Come with us and we will be generous with you; for the Eternal  has promised to be generous to Israel.”

“I will not go,” he replied to him, “but will return to my native land.”

He said, “Please do not leave us, inasmuch as you know where we should camp in the wilderness and can be our guide (literally,  “eyes”).

So if you come with us, we will extend to you the same bounty that the Eternal grants us.” (Numbers 10:29-32)

On the assumption that “Hobab son of Reuel” is indeed Jethro/Yitro – who was familiar with the story of the exodus from Egypt and the wonders that God did for the people (see Exodus 18:1) – Why doesn’t he agree to continue with Moses and the people of Israel? Why not stay with his daughter, grandchildren and the people that God has chosen? Many commentators attribute his hesitancy to personal considerations. For example, Rabbi Ovadia Sforno (Italy, 16th century) wrote, “So that in his old age he would not have to adjust, to the different climate and food in a country he had not grown up in.” Although this sounds logical, it does not explain why his departure marks the beginning of deterioration in the Israelite’s situation.

Rabbi Aryeh Bernstein[*] (Chicago, 21^st century) sees the deeper problem, specifically with the style and content of Moses’ request. As he understands it, Jethro does indeed have great respect for the mission of the people of Israel but the promise made by Moses  “We will be generous with you; for the Eternal  has promised to be generous” doesn't interest him. Jethro has a homeland of his own. Moses tries again and emphasizes that the Israelites need his assistance, “As you know where we should camp in the wilderness and can be our guide.” Jethro doesn't even respond to this suggestion. What was so insulting? Rav Aryeh explains:

I imagine Yitro hearing this and thinking, “Really? That’s what you think I’ve been doing for you? I’m the map guy? Oh, ok, see ya.” Yitro knows well that his real contribution was his mission-focus and the spiritual orientation of listening and social intelligence. He paid meticulous attention to Israel’s structural composition, able, with the aid of a little critical distance, to see the diverse members of the community as activists and not passive, broken slaves…  Moshe had a tendency to rage, burnout, and alienation from the people; it was Yitro who showed him how to create a sustainable, efficient, and accessible judicial system.

According to this reading, Moses misunderstood the true contribution the Jethro had made and it could be that Jethro was not only insulted but began to doubt his friendship with Moses and whether they could continue working together. He wasn't interested in starting a new journey under those conditions. It is also possible that Moses did indeed understand Jethro’s true value but didn't take sufficient care to express himself clearly. Rav Aryeh concludes:

Whether Moshe misunderstands and underappreciates Yitro, or he just doesn’t take care in communicating with him remains ambiguous, and I can’t help but wonder whether that ambiguity is the authorial intention. So often, the origins of our relationship breakdowns elude us and we don’t even know why we have bad feelings or how to mend them. On this reading, the Torah is dramatizing that dynamic for us by scripting two old friends talking past each other, parting ways without closure, and, as a result of the alienation of our most insightful mentor and adviser, the Israelite community and Moshe its leader crumbling into social disarray.

What really happened? We have no way of knowing. However the Torah’s method of leaving gaps in the text gives us an opening to look more deeply into our lives and communities.

May we have the will to truly appreciate each other’s best traits and communicate with precision.

 

 

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[*] Careless Communication and Social Dysfunction: Understanding Yitro's Departure.

Timbrels & Apples or Ethics of Care as the Foundation of Redemption, Seventh Day of Passover

Hebrew

Then Miriam the prophet, Aaron’s sister, picked up a timbrel (or “hand-drum”) and all the women went out after her in dance with timbrels. And Miriam chanted responsively with them: Sing to the Eternal for God has triumphed, yes, triumphed, the horse and its charioteer are flung into the sea!                   (Exodus 15:20-21, composite translation)

“Where did they get timbrels in the desert?” Rashi asks following the midrash in the Mekhilta, and answers: “The righteous women of that generation were so confident that the Creator would perform miracles for them that they took timbrels from Egypt:”

Without detracting from the miracles and wonders, I want to go back in time one additional week to uncover a foundational layer. Although the Israelites left Egypt “with much property,” most of it was “borrowed” from Egyptians at the very end. On the morning of 14 Nisan, as the Israelites prepared for departure, how much property could slaves have had? Maybe two changes of clothes and a blanket for each person and some kitchen utensils – including a kneading bowl – for the family. And a hand-drum.

According to ancient texts, including the Bible, and archaeological evidence, in the Ancient Near East hand-drums were customarily played by women. They were simpler than our modern tambourines, because they didn’t have jingles around the circumference. Rather, they were a small, modest objects that a slave could afford, or make for herself.

When the Israelite women packed their meager belongings before the Exodus, were they thinking only about celebrating miracles? Unlikely. Pause for a moment and imagine: what it was like to leave Egypt with a two-and-a-half-year-old?

Before they were used to praise the Redeemer and celebrate redemption, the timbrels could entertain, soothe or, at least, distract hungry, confused and frightened babies and children. Before they were tools of liberation, the timbrels were tools of care.

Detail from the Second Nuremberg Haggadah, showing a woman with three children,
one in a carry-cot on her head, and a man with two babies in a carrier on his back (Golinkin and Kulp, The Schechter Haggadah)

“Ethics of Care” is a philosophical school that focuses on the practice and value of caring for dependent, vulnerable others, as opposed to the classic liberalism of Thomas Hobbs and company who focused on the self-sufficient, independent adult. As if such people exist. We were all born dependent on others.

Ethics of care were exemplified during the journey out of Egypt not only by the Israelite women but also by the Holy Blessed One, who cared for the hungry toddlers. In Midrash Shemot Rabbah, Rabbi Nehorei explains: “When passing through the sea, an Israelite woman who was carrying a crying child could reach out her hand, and pluck an apple or pomegranate out of the sea and gives to the child.” The shiny red, sweet fruit appears when as needed. The toddler is fed and the parents – who apparently lacked experience in traveling with children – learned a lesson: don’t budge without taking snacks for the children.

The people of Israel marched in the mud and in the dark, between walls of water, came to the other side and burst into song, in two choruses.

About one it is said: “Then Moses and the Israelites sang this song to the Eternal. They said: I will sing to the Eternal, for God has triumphed, yes, triumphed” (Exodus 15:1). Although they are singing together, each one stands as an individual, using the singular “I will sing.”

About the other chorus, we are told, “Miriam chanted responsively with them: “Sing [plural] to the Eternal for God has triumphed, yes, triumphed” (verse 21). Miriam leads and asks for a response from the women. They answer and sing together using plural language.

I wish I could claim that gender segregation at the sea is a thing of the past, but this goal remains unattained, in numerous ways. It is not enough that women can now work in traditionally "male" professions. It is also important for men to take on the work of care. 

More than two years of Covid-19 has highlighted how vulnerable we all are, how dependent society is on care-givers and people in care professions, and how quickly the appreciation for workers in health, education and food supply can pass.

Until society appreciates and rewards fairly care-oriented people who sing their song in the plural, in a manner similar to the individualists who espouse personal achievements, we will not reach the Promised Land.

(Take a timbrel and some apples, we’ve got a long way to go.) 

Kehillat Hod veHadar, 2022

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With thanks to the teachers whose Torah and writing were the inspiration that set me on the path to this drasha: Rabbis Tali Adler, Aryeh Bernstein, Shai Held, Jason Rubenstein and Prof. Laurie Zoloth (in alphabetical order) and to Rabbi David Golinkin for the illustration.

תופים ותפוחים או עבודת דאגה כיסוד הגאולה, שביעי של פסח, תשפ"ב

English

וַתִּקַּח מִרְיָם הַנְּבִיאָה אֲחוֹת אַהֲרֹן אֶת־הַתֹּף בְּיָדָהּ וַתֵּצֶאןָ כׇל־הַנָּשִׁים אַחֲרֶיהָ בְּתֻפִּים וּבִמְחֹלֹת׃ וַתַּעַן לָהֶם מִרְיָם שִׁירוּ לַה' כִּי־גָאֹה גָּאָה סוּס וְרֹכְבוֹ רָמָה בַיָּם׃ 

"מנין היו להם לישראל תופים במדבר?"  שואל רש"י בעקבות המדרש במכילתא ועונה: "מֻבְטָחוֹת הָיוּ צַדְקָנִיּוֹת שֶׁבַּדּוֹר שֶׁהַקָּבָּ"ה עוֹשֶׂה לָהֶם נִסִּים וְהוֹצִיאוּ תֻפִּים מִמִּצְרַיִם:"

בלי לגרוע מהניסים והנפלאות, אני רוצה לחזור שבוע בזמן כדי ולחשוף נדבך יסוד. אמנם בני ישראל יצאו ממצרים "ברכוש גדול" אבל רב רובו הושאל מהמצרים ברגע האחרון. "אור לארבע עשר" כאשר התכוננו ליציאה,  כמה רכוש היה לעבדים? אולי שתי חליפות בגדים ושמיכה לאדם וכמה כלי מטבח – כולל משארה לבצק – למשפחה. ותוף.

לפי טקסטים עתיקים, כולל התנ"ך, וממצאים ארכיאולוגים, במזרח הקדום תופים היו כלי נגינה של נשים. הם היו פשוטים יותר מהכלי שאנחנו קוראים היום "תוף מרים", כי לא היו צלצלים מסביב. דבר קטן וצנוע שגם שפחה יכלה להכין או להרשות לעצמה.

כאשר בנות ישראל ארזו את חפציהן הדלים לקראת היציאה האם הן חשבו רק על ניסים עתידיים? יתכן שלא. עצרו רגע ודמיינו: איך זה היה לצאת ממצריים עם ילד בן שנתיים וחצי? בלי צידה לדרך, לפחות שיהיו כלי נגינה.

לפני שהם שימושו לשבח את הגואל ולחגוג את הגאולה, לתופים היה תפקיד לבדר, להרגיע או לפחות להסיח את דעתם של תינוקות וילדים רעבים, מבולבלים ומפוחדים. לפני שהיו כלים של גאולה, התופים היו כלים של דאגה.

יציאת מצרים בהגדת נירנברג השניה רואים אשה עם שלושה ילדים, כולל תינוק בעריסה על ראשה, וגבר עם שני תינוקת במנשא גב (גולינקין וקולפ, הגדת שכטר) 

"אתיקה של דאגה" היא אסכולה פילוסופית המתמקדת בפרקטיקה ובערך של הטיפול באדם אחר, החוסה או הפגיע. אתיקה של דאגה מנוגדת לליברליזם הקלאסי של תומאס הובס ודומַיו, הממוקדים באדם הבוגר העצמאי והבלתי תלוי. כאילו שהוא קיים. כולנו התחלנו את חיינו תלויים באחרים. 

אתיקה של דאגה מודגמת ביציאת מצריים לא רק ע"י בנות ישראל אלא גם ע"י הקב"ה, שדאג לפעוטות הרעבים. רַבִּי נְהוֹרָאי בשמות רבה מתאר: "הָיְתָה בַּת יִשְׂרָאֵל עוֹבֶרֶת בַּיָּם וּבְנָהּ בְּיָדָהּ וּבוֹכֶה, וּפוֹשֶׁטֶת יָדָהּ וְנוֹטֶלֶת תַּפּוּחַ אוֹ רִמּוֹן מִתּוֹךְ הַיָּם וְנוֹתֶנֶת לוֹ." הפרי אדום, נוצץ ומתוק מזומן בעת הצורך. הפעוט שובע וההורים– שחסרו נסיון ביציאה למסע – למדו: לא זזים בלי חטיף לילד.

עם ישראל צעד בבוץ ובחושך, בין חומות של מים, הגיע לצד השני ופרץ בשירה. בשתי מקהלות.

על אחת נאמר שמשה ובני ישראל שרו "אָשִׁירָה לַה' כִּי גָאֹה גָּאָה". אומנם שירה משותפת אבל כל אחד עומד בפני עצמו ואומר "אשירה" בלשון יחיד.

על האחרת כתוב: "וַתַּעַן לָהֶם מִרְיָם שִׁירוּ לַה' כִּי גָאֹה גָּאָה." מרים מובילה ומבקשת מענה מן הקהל, והן עונות ושרות יחד בלשון רבים: "שירוּ".

הלוואי שיכלתי לטעון שהבחנה המגדרית כאן היא נחלת העבר, אבל ליעד הזה עדיין לא הגענו. לא מספיק שנשים יכנסו למקוצעות "גבריות", חשוב גם שגברים יקבלו על עצמם תפקידים "נשיים" בעבודות דאגה.

שנתיים פלוס של קורונה הבליטו עד כמה כולנו פגיעים, עד כמה החברה תלויה בעבודות דאגה וטיפול, ועד כמה מהר יכולה לחלוף ההערכה לעוסקים בבריאות, בחינוך ובאספקת מזון.

עד שהחברה תעריך ותתגמל באופן הוגן את אנשי ה-"שירו" העוסקים בצורכי הזולת בדומה לאנשי ה-"אשירה" הדוגלים בהשגים האישיים לא נגיע אל המנוחה והנחלה.

(קחו תוף וכמה תפוחים, הדרך ארוכה.)

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אני מודה לר' טלי אדלר, ר' אריה ברנשטיין, ר' ש"י הלד, פרופ' לורי זולות, ר' ג'ייסון רובנשטיין (לפי סדר א"ב שם משפחה) על השראה שהוביל אותי את הדרשה הזאת, ולרב דוד גולינקין עבור האיור.

 

Shabbat HaGadol: Just as the Israelites were redeemed from Egypt in Nissan, the future redemption will take place in Nissan

Hebrew

Nissan is a month of expectation – for Spring, festival joy and redemption, as Rabbi Joshua teaches, “Just as the Israelites were redeemed from Egypt in Nissan, the future redemption will take place in Nissan (Babylonian Talmud, Rosh Hashanah 10b).

Spring has arrived and it seems that this year we will be able to celebrate Passover almost “as usual” but redemption isn’t visible on the horizon.

The special haftarah for Shabbat HaGadol (“Great Sabbath”), the Sabbath immediately preceding Passover, may provide a hint of why. 

In the last chapter of formal prophecy in the Bible, the prophet Malachi lists the sins that are preventing redemption: sorcery, adultery, swearing falsely, oppressing workers, widows and orphans –  i.e., weaker classes of society – and discriminating against outsiders and migrants. Later, he adds not paying tithes and Temple offerings (equivalent to tax evasion).  If we think of sorcery as any practice that intervenes in the laws of nature, all of these sins are familiar.

The statement in verse 8 that misappropriating tithe and contribution transferred to priests, Levites and needy equals cheating God deserves our attention. The claim is that the resources that pass through our hands are not truly ours, but rather blessings from God, and we are responsible for using them to meet our own needs and the needs of others. Therefore, depriving public servants (priests and Levites) and the needy of their food and basic needs is theft, from both the people and from God.

Yet Malachi, on God’s behalf, does not mention the poor directly. Why are they omitted? It almost makes it seem that God is more concerned with Godself than with meeting people’s basic needs. More likely, Malachi is tailoring his words to his audience, because he like, all of the prophets, is “a person, not a microphone.” (A.J. Heschel, The Prophets [JPS: 1962 one volume edition] p. xiv). The prophet tempers God’s message so that it will be heard. 

People in Malachi’s day (and not only then) seemingly had few qualms about cheating the poor; after all, they have no power. But their fear of God was real. Therefore, the prophecy stresses the sin against God rather than that against the poor. Adjusting the message to the audience might be justified if it achieves the greater goal of supplying the basic needs of the entire population. However, herein lays another issue that delays redemption: behavior that is motivated by a fear of punishment or “what will people say” rather than doing what is right because it is right.

The Passover sacrifice that preceded the redemption from Egypt showed the Redeemer which Israelites were willing to sacrifice and separate from an evil culture in order to be saved. What are we willing sacrifice to help bring redemption?