Parashat Balak: And Reason Shall Not Prevail

“In all things, reason should prevail,” wrote William Penn. Yet in quite a few things, there is no reason whatsoever.

In this week’s portion, we find Balak, the pagan king of Moab, desperately trying to protect his commonwealth. Israel has just routed Moab’s neighbors—the Bashonites and Amorites—and Balak knows that his nation may very well be next.  So he engages the services of a non-Israelite prophet, Bilaam, whose task is to get the God of Israel to curse the Jewish people.  

In terms of military history, praying to one’s personal deity for victory is hardly remarkable. That is what prayer is for. No more surprising is hiring a cleric to pray on one’s behalf, that is what clerics are for. What is surprising is that Bilaam is not asked to appeal to Moab’s gods for assistance but to enlist the enemy’s God—the Redeemer of Israel—instead.  

By way of an imperfect example, imagine if in the Middle Ages a Catholic general were to ask the Pope to invoke Muhammed as a way to curry advantage against an invading Moslem army. The idea abounds with absurdity. Even if Muhammed had any say in the matter, why should he forsake the people of the Koran for a people who entirely reject the Word of Allah?

Yet, this is Balak and Bilaam’s very strategy. ‘Make the God of Israel abandon his flock of monotheists and embrace the pagans of Moab.’ As to be expected, the plan fails miserably, which begs the question why was it attempted at all?

There is a funny comment that Rashi brings down on the verse: “And Bilaam awoke in the morning and saddled his donkey.” (Num. 22.21) Rashi writes, “From here we learn that hatred destroys common sense.” Bilaam had numerous servants that could have done all his packing, yet in his zeal to curse Israel, he saddled the donkey himself. The stubborn mule of passion stomped right over the cool stoicism of reason. Bilaam’s heart brimmed with so much hatred there was little room left for good sense to prevail.

In this there is a poignant reminder: The greater our passion or conviction, the greater the need for deliberation. As William Penn warns, “it is quite another thing to be stiff, than to be steady in an opinion.” The decisions of a stiff heart are rarely as good as those of a steady mind.

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Norman Lamm and the Mechitza

Every so often, one reads something written some years ago, and one has the opportunity to witness great words eviscerated by the progress of time. Below is an excerpt from a collection of essays found in Sanctity of the Synagogue, edited by Baruch Litvin. The work was published in late 50's, when the mechitza issue was tearing quite a few synagogues apart, and, more than anything else, drove the decisive wedge between Orthodoxy and Conservative Judaism. The excerpt if from an essay by Rabbi Dr. Norman Lamm, who would later go on to become President of Yeshiva University. His defense of the Mechitza amounts to an accusation of hypocrisy against Conservative rabbis who in the name of egalitarianism wished to remove the mechitza.  Considering the egalitarian trends that eventually swept through the Conservative movement, the essay should remind us how important it is to take the long-view if one intends to write for posterity. Tomorrow, I shall provide another excerpt, which to my mind, still rings true...by R. Joseph Soloveitchik. In the meantime, here is Rabbi Norman Lamm: 

"THE EQUALITY OF THE SEXES

Separate seating, we are told, reveals an underlying belief that women are inferior, and only when men and women are allowed to mix freely in the synagogue is the equality of the sexes acknowledged. To this rallying call to "chivalry'' we must respond with a demand for consistency. If the non- Orthodox movements are, in this matter, the champions of woman's equality, and if this equality is demonstrated by equal participation in religious activities, then why, for instance, have not the non-orthodox schools graduated one woman rabbi all these years? Why not a woman cantor? (Even in Reform circles, recent attempts to introduce women into such positions have resulted in a good deal of controversy) . Why are Temple presidents almost all men, and Synagogue boards predominantly male? Why are the women segregated in sisterhoods? If it is to be equality's then let us have complete and unambiguous equality.

The same demand for some semblance of consistency may well be presented, and with even greater cogency, to the very ones of our sisters who are the most passionate and articulate advocates of mixed seating as a symbol of their equality. If this equality as Jewesses is expressed by full participation in Jewish life, then such equality must not be restricted to the Temple. They must submit as well to the private obligations incumbent upon menfolk: prayer thrice daily, and be-tzibbur, in the synagogue; donning tallis and tephillin; acquiring their own lulab and ethrog, etc. These mitzvoth are not Halachically obligatory for women, yet they were voluntarily practiced by solitary women throughout Jewish history; to mention but two examples, Michal, daughter of King Saul, and the fabled Hasidic teacher, the Maid of Ludmilla.

Does not consistency demand that the same equality, in whose name we are asked to confer upon women the privileges of full participation in public worship with all its attendant glory and glamour, also Impose upon women the responsibilities and duties, heretofore reserved for men only, which must be exercised in private only? We have yet to hear an anguished outcry for such equal assumption of masculine religious duties. So far those who would desecrate the synagogue in the name of democracy's and “equality'' have been concentrating exclusively upon the public areas of Jewish religious expression, upon synagogues privileges and not at all upon spiritual duties. They must expand the horizons of religious equality..."

Kiddush by Candlelight – Parashat Chukkat

By candle light, one can mark each passing hour in the cascade of wax.  As wick gives way to flame, the blaze dwindles and the night yields to shadow.  To live in the ephemeral glow of candles is to know that light is finite and darkness inevitable.

Yet we live and breathe not by candle light, but by Edison’s incandescent bulb and the fluorescent innovations that followed. In contrast to candles, the electric bulb is a hundred times brighter. Its light rarely dims or flickers. It seems nearly infinite when set aside the sputtering tallow flame.

No doubt, we gained immeasurably when we gave up the wax candle for the electric blaze, but one wonders if we also lost immeasurably in the exchange. 

In this week’s portion, Chukath, there is a passing of the torch. The life of Aaron, the high priest, is set to expire, but before he is gathered to his people, God commands that his son be designated high priest in his stead. “The Lord said to Moses… ‘Take Aaron and Elazar his son, and bring them up to the Mountain upon the Mountain (Hebrew: Hor Hahar). There, you shall strip Aaron of his vestments, and put them on Elazar his son; and Aaron shall be gathered to his people, and there he shall die.” (Numbers 20:23-26)

While the foretelling of death is alarming, the awareness of the inevitable affords Aaron the contentment of watching his son don the garments of the high priest. “Happy is he who sees his crown given to his son,” quotes Rashi. 

Before the advent of electricity, the Sabbath candles were kindled not only to honor the Sabbath but to illuminate the home.  As dusk set in and the last rays of sun melted to darkness, Jewish families relied upon candles not only to see, but also to illuminate that which could not be seen.

In the half-light of the flame, the meal was all the more appreciated for its smell and taste. Not able to observe the full nuances of body language, one had to listen all the more attentively for the nuances of voice. It was natural to draw on memory to fill in the twinkle of an eye, the crack of a smile, or even one’s spouse’s silhouette. Yet the most important difference is spoken by the candles themselves. They say: ‘There is urgency to the evening.  Do what needs be done. Speak which needs be spoken.  Values, traditions, ideals that need be imparted, impart before the last candle burns to the wick and the light is gone.’

There is symbolism to Aaron being laid to rest in a place called Hor HaHar—a Mountain upon a Mountain.  When one has seen to it that one’s progeny builds upon what one has built, it is indeed like placing a mountain upon another mountain. Yet without the sense that time wanes, without the specter of darkness just over the horizon, what urgency is there to give over what we have? What rush is there to don our children in that which we cherish most—the vestments of the high priest—the great mountain of our tradition?

Perhaps, it is time we forget Edison for an evening, and have a Friday-night meal with a few candles instead.

Abusing Rabbinic Power

A Fabulous Piece by Rabbi Marc D. Angel:

Maintaining Purity and Integrity: Thoughts on Parashat Hukkat

The laws of the Red Heifer are considered to be among the inscrutable commandments of the Torah. The elaborate ritual was ordained for the purpose of purifying those who had become ritually unclean through contact with a dead body. One of the strange features of this procedure was that while it purified the impure, it defiled all those who were connected with the preparation of the ashes and water of purification “It purifies the impure, and simultaneously defiles the pure.” How could the exact same ingredients lead to opposite results? I suggest a possible explanation. 

Those engaged in purifying others might naturally come to think of themselves as being highly important individuals. The impure people must turn to them for help. Being in this position of spiritual power could easily lead the “purifiers” to aggrandize themselves, to subtly (or not so subtly) adopt feelings of superiority. To prevent this eventuality, the Torah declares that the purifiers must themselves be rendered impure. Thus, they will not develop an inflated sense of self-importance, because they will realize that they must become ritually defiled while they purify others. The process does not raise them above those they serve, but actually lowers their status of ritual purity.  (To Continue, Click Here.)

The Moral Survivor of the West Depends on Ethical Slaughter

From one of my favorite religio-political commentators:

"For months, the Dutch parliament has debated a bill that would ban kosher slaughter on supposed humanitarian grounds. On June 23, parliament offered a compromise according to which the Jewish community will have a chance to demonstrate that this 3,000-year-old practice does not cause animals to suffer. Given that kosher slaughter is mandated in order to prevent animal suffering, the entire proceeding is grotesque. This might seem like an esoteric issue affecting a small religious minority; on the contrary, I argue, it is on just such questions that the moral survival of the West depends - Spengler."  

To read more, continue here.

What is in a Politician's Heart? Parashat Korach

The French philosopher Bernard-Henri Levi once produced a timeline, suggesting that Pakistan had a habit of arresting Al Qaeda terrorists just before Congress convened to debate the amount of aid that would be given to Islamabad. Though Levi published his findings in 2005, Congress continued to annually renew its $3 billion dollar a year pledge to the Islamic Republic. In return, Pakistan gave its earnest pledge to use the aid find and fight terrorists. It turned out they found them alright, but then proceeded to put them in suburban villas. (Here)

Which begs the question, why are we so gullible? And if the cunning politicians in Pakistan can even fool the cunning politicos in Congress, what hope is there for the rest of us?

In this week's portion, Korach gathers from among the Children of Israel a pack of the aggrieved and the malcontent. Griping against the authority of Moses and Aaron, they rail: "You take too much upon yourselves, seeing that all the congregation is holy, every one of them, and Lord is among them. Why have you lifted yourselves above the congregation of the Lord?" (Num. 16.3)

The Tanhuma imagines that the people were initially skeptical of Korach's intentions. So like any good politician he made his campaign stops: "That night Korach went from tribe to tribe to seduce them: 'You imagine that I am concerned only for myself, but I am concerned for all of you. They have taken all the great privileges: To Moses, the Monarchy, and to Aaron, the Priesthood.' Eventually, they were all seduced." (Rashi - Num.16.19)

It would be nice if there was a sure way to know what is in a politician's heart, to discern lie from truth. But by the Tanhuma's assessment, unmasking a crafty leader, akin Korach, is no easy task.

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