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In this week’s Torah portion, we read of the five daughters of Zelophchad, whose actions changed Jewish history. You may remember that they petitioned for the right to inherit their father’s land. They had no brothers who would be next in line, so they asked to be allowed the right to Zelophchad’s estate.
Parsha Pinchas tells us that they petitioned in front of Moshe, Eleazar the priest, the chieftains, and the whole assembly. Given how little power women had in those days, that act had to take great courage, and, no doubt, a belief in the rightness of their action. Many scholars argue that Moshe had to refer this question directly to God because he wasn’t sure how to respond. This was such a unique claim that it left Moshe uncertain how to adjudicate the case. Others claim, however, that Moshe DID KNOW what was the correct response, but that he only appeared to be consulting God so that he would have the ultimate Judge backing him up. Whatever the reason, these brave women won their case. And they know how to argue—they use the patriarchal values of the time, and turn them to their favor. “Let not our father’s name be lost,” they plead. And they remind Moshe that their father was NOT one of the rebels who followed Moshe. In fact, Rabbi Kushner’s, Z”L, commentary in our Chumash makes note of this fact, and makes the point that Moshe may have recused himself so as not to appear to be biased by the daughters’ appeal to his own history. We know how stingy the Torah can sometimes be with language. And we know that that stinginess is especially true when it comes to women in the Torah. We know, for example, that Sarah died, but the focus of Chayyei Sarah is really ABRAHAM’S response to her death. How about Dinah? Her actions set her brothers off on a murderous rampage, and yet we don’t have a clue about what happened to her after that. In the Torah, women are often invisible or briefly mentioned or used to move the plot along with little sense of their own role in that plot. So, the fact that the daughters of Zelophchad get center stage here is especially noteworthy. They make a speech. They are persuasive. They speak before MEN. And we are told their names—they are Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah. So, what does this tell us? To me, it tells us that even God has to be willing to adapt to changing circumstances. The lawmakers of that time did not imagine that this circumstance would come up. They probably pictured every family having sons who could and would inherit. But here was a case that was exceptional. A case that demanded a new policy. And that policy resulted in a landmark decision that changed our history. But beyond that one decision about property and inheritance, this episode makes an even larger point. The story of the daughters of Zelophchad reminds us, as the Torah does so often, that even the weakest among us should have a voice. And not just a voice. But a voice that can transform a whole people.
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This week’s Parsha is a strange one indeed. We have a sorcerer and a talking donkey and what seems to be God changing his instructions. I don’t know how many of you remember the VERY BAD television program, MY MOTHER THE CAR, but today’s narrative is the ancient version of that show.
In Parshat Chukkat , we read a narrative that perplexes many of our greatest scholars. Let’s remind ourselves of the story: The people complain that they do not have water, and once again they bemoan their having left Egypt.
“Why did you make us leave Egypt to bring us to this wretched place, a place with no grain or figs or vines or pomegranates? There is not even water to drink!” In response, the presence of God appears to Moses and Aaron and he commands them to “assemble the community” and order the rock to yield its water. But Moshe does not do as God commands; instead, he strikes the rock not once but twice, and copious water flows from the rock. But what an enormous price to pay! God tells Moshe that, because he struck the rock, he is not allowed to enter the Promised Land. After leading the Israelites for forty years, through so many trials and tests, how could Moses be denied entry to the land? As Rabbi Kushner, Z”L, notes in the below-the-line commentary in our chumash Etz Hayyim, “Why should Moses, who has served God so loyally for so many years through so many trying times, be so harshly punished for what seems like a minor infraction?” Rabbi Kushner notes that the punishment seems, to use his word, ‘disproportionate’. That’s an understatement: What could possibly have been so sinful to warrant such a terrible punishment? After 40 years in the desert with these people, we can guess that Moshe has little patience left for their whining and their ingratitude. Also, we should not forget that Moshe has just lost his sister Miriam and was still in mourning for her. And Miriam herself had been the person to bring water in the desert to the Israelites. So it makes sense that Moses would associate the absence of water with her death and feel even more powerless and distraught. And that he would “lose his cool” as a result. And does Moses ever lose it! Not only does he throw a tantrum. He says, “Shimu na hamorim”--listen, you rebels! Shall we get water for you out of this rock?” We know that Moshe has a short fuse, and this incident in Chukkat is not the first where we see him display his temper. Early in his career, Moshe saw a taskmaster beating an Israelite slave, and, in a moment of righteous indignation, he strikes the Egyptian, killing him. Remember too how Moshe smashes the tablets that contain the Ten Commandments when he saw the Israelites worshipping the golden calf. But this week’s temper tantrum has disastrous consequences for Moshe, and our sages have struggled to explain the severity of God’s punishment. Rashi argues that striking the rock rather than speaking to it diminished the greatness of the miracle because it made it seem as though it took more power than it did. Ramban looks at verse 10, “Shall we get water for you out of this rock?” and argues that that statement seems to be claiming that Moses and Aaron are taking credit for the miracle and not giving the credit where it is deserved, to God. Other scholars believe that Moshe’s sin started even earlier than when he struck the rock—that it began when he needed to be told that a miracle would occur rather than just having the faith to know that it would occur. Another sage maintains that a prophet who succumbs to anger loses his prophetic ability. And Maimonides argues that Moshe’s sin lies in his name-calling—to Maimonides, his name calling which is really loshan hara—rebels!—means that Moses has lost patience with the people and therefore can no longer be a leader. If we accept that interpretation, then perhaps Moses’s failure to enter the Promised Land is less a punishment and more a recognition that it was time for new leadership, and that Moses and Aaron are physically and emotionally exhausted. That seems to be true of Chukkat in general—that this parsha seems to be about the changing of the guard, about the necessity of a new generation moving into the places once held by Miriam, Aaron, and Moshe. As the introduction to our Eytz Hayyim notes, this parsha seems to be about transitions. The center of gravity is changing here, away from Egypt and toward the Promised Land and away from the old guard to the generation that will enter Eretz Yisrael. We know that there are disputes for the sake of heaven and disputes not for the sake of heaven. Parsha Chukkat might be telling us that there is also anger for the sake of heaven and anger not for the sake of heaven. ‘Righteous indignation’ might be a better term for anger for the sake of heaven. I’ve mentioned examples of Moshe’s righteous indignation; his anger here in Chukkat is a different story. I remember reading that Abraham Lincoln had a terrible temper. I know that’s contrary to the stereotype, but he was a lot more complicated than people tend to think. In any case, Lincoln used to write incredibly angry letters to people who had let him down or failed to follow through on their commitments. But, unlike some of us [and unlike Moshe], what Lincoln did was he sealed the letter in an envelope, and even addressed it. But he NEVER SENT IT. That’s an understanding of the risks of expressing one’s anger. Ben Zoma taught “Who is mighty? One who controls his impulses.” And the Talmud tells us that we should judge a person by three things, three things that sound very similar in Hebrew: kiso by his pocket (his generosity). KOSO, literally his cup but really his APPETITES, and KA’ASO, his anger. That we get angry is only human. How we express that anger is a reflection of our character. Knowing when to get angry and how to turn anger into something constructive may be the best measure of our lives. Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, attended his dear wife Chaya Rivka’s funeral in Jerusalem where he was the head of a yeshiva. At the last moment before Chaya was lowered into the ground, the rabbi did not ask for mechilla - forgiveness, from her, as was the custom. He announced that he never did anything in all their years together for which he felt he needed forgiveness. Years later, he was questioned by a student, “Rabbi, how is it that you lived with someone for so long and never argued or disagreed?”
Rav Zalman responded “of course there were arguments, but always we would work together to find understanding. Most importantly we always, however long it took, eventually came to a place of peace.” Parshat Korach includes an argument, a disagreement that does not end peacefully. Korach launches his primary complaint against the High Priesthood of Aaron. By extension, he is also questioning the legitimacy of Moshe’s leadership and prophecy. Throughout the ages, experts, scholars and commentators have attempted to understand what Korach’s true motivations might have been. Surely Korach was aware of Hashem’s choice in Moshe, and how an outright rebellion would end in his own death, which of course, it did. After all, it was not all that long ago that Korach witnessed the deaths of Nadav and Avihu, Aaron's sons (and his own relatives) as the boys made missteps of their own of a similar nature. Perhaps Korach became convinced that his was the correct, and only acceptable view of Moshe’s leadership? Perhaps Korach even believed that Hashem agreed with him in that Moshe promoted priests through nepotism, or that Moshe was becoming too autocratic in his position over his people? Korach and his followers also were present when Aaron and Miriam criticized their brother Moshe. Aaron was punished for this transgression, not at all, and Miriam only a bit more harshly. However the precedent was set; according to Korach’s view of these episodes, criticism of Moshe IS acceptable. Korach may have believed he was taking on a national crusade to break the absolute rule over the Jewish people, his brothers and sisters. His position and rallying cry was interesting. “Why do we need a ruler when all Jews are holy?” While it may be true that each of us holds the potential for holiness, this question is the crux of the argument between order and chaos. It is also the question of independence and faithlessness against a devotion to one’s people and an acceptance of Hashem as our protector. In this case, Korach’s personal beliefs and ambitions drove him to a place of darkness, a place against Hashem, who he believed was on his side in his dispute of Moshe. As always, and in all things, we all must strike a balance to never confuse personal goals and wishes with Hashem’s will. |
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