Israelites and Window Seats – Parshat Bamidbar 5776

Window Seats

I prefer the window seat on airplanes. If I have to be stuck in an insanely small place for a long period of time, at least I can see the outside world. For me, the window seat is a compromise between the middle seat, where there’s very little room for movement, and the aisle seat, which tends to bleed into the chaos of the rest of the plane, like the unforgiving snack cart or the unobservant passenger. It may not be casebook claustrophobia, but it’s an irrational fear nonetheless.

On one end there’s the middle seat fear of having no control or way out, and it’s unsettling when it happens on the plane or anywhere else. Of course the opposite of total restriction isn’t necessarily ideal either. We learn very early on as small children that we do better with boundaries and set guidelines. Having too many options or choices causes chaos. A child will initially celebrate the expanse of options, only to have a meltdown caused by the overwhelming lack of structure. Parents, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

We see this same phenomenon with the Israelites. This week we begin reading the fourth book of the Torah, Sefer Bamidbar. This text brings us to the accounting of the people, showing us who each of the tribes are and what numbers they hold at this moment. Each tribe is denoted with a flag which marks their territory. This is the beginning of an organized society, a significant change from the free flow uncertainty they had after leaving Egypt and an even bigger change from the tight restrictions they had while enslaved.

This week the story takes another turn. Mitzrayim, the Hebrew word for Egypt, means “from a narrow place.” Egypt was a metaphorically tight place for the Israelites, filled with strict rules and laws and very little freedom to move about or guide their own journeys. Imagine the stark contrast of moving straight from this pre-liberated society to a place called midbar, the Hebrew word for the desert. The desert is a vast open expanse filled with endless (and unknown) possibilities. It’s understandable that this new world without boundaries would cause chaos and uneasiness.

The struggle between too many restrictions and not enough restrictions plays out time and time again, everywhere from business regulations to government power to the running of our own households. In parshat Bamidbar we see further movement (literally and figuratively) toward what a budding nation needs in order to give its people freedom, while keeping safety and security as top priorities. As I said, I prefer the window seat.

Slippery Slope – Parshat Bechukotai 5776

Slippery Slope

When conservative Judaism made the change to allow congregants to drive to shul on Shabbat, the argument against the change was that congregants would take this permission further than intended. Those opposed to this shift were concerned that anyone who started driving to shul on Shabbat would eventually be driving to the movies on Shabbat or driving to the mall on Shabbat. This is the definition of what we often call a “slippery slope.” It’s the fear, logical or not, that one action may result in unintended and disastrous consequences. The slippery slope argument is invoked in order to maintain the status quo rather than risk a calamitous outcome. In the case of driving on Shabbat, the concern was that one decision would water down the observance of the entire movement.

That’s not a discussion we need to get into specifically, although this week’s parshah contains an interesting version of the slippery slope. This week, in parshat Bechukotai, the Israelite nation is receiving the final laws of the book of Vayikra, which detail specifically how we should treat one another in various relationships and how we should connect to God. The Israelites have only been out of Egypt for a short period of time, and during this first taste of freedom, they are in their stubborn and rebellious adolescent years as a nation. God, as the dutiful parent, tries every which way to implore the Israelites to keep the mitzvot. God tries to use a love and logic approach in giving consequences that fit the actions, as we saw in parshat Yitro. God tries angry intimidation, as exhibited when the Israelites build the golden calf. Now, God brings on the threats.

Chapter 26, verses 14-45 are a section of text known as the Tochecha, the rebuke of the nation for their missteps. In verse 18 God shares that the disciplinary action for sinning will be sevenfold. The Sifra, a fourth century commentary on the book of Leviticus, sees the process of falling away from God’s ordained path as occurring in seven steps, which read remarkably like a cause-and-effect slippery slope argument:

  1. People will stop studying Torah.
  2. Without this foundation of study, they will come to see the commandments as matters of personal choice rather than moral obligations.
  3. They will therefore resent people who do study and practice and who make them feel guilty for not doing so.
  4. They will then try to stop others from fulfilling the commandments in order to feel less guilty themselves.
  5. They will deny that the commandments came from God.
  6. They will deny the existence of a covenant between God and Israel.
  7. They will deny the existence of God.

The Sifra offers what is certainly a worst cast scenario, but it also reminds us that our actions, for better or worse, can cause chain reactions in the world. And it got me thinking. We really only focus on the negative slippery slopes (a slippery slope has a pretty negative connotation), but the change we sometimes fear could just as easily result in a series of positive aftereffects.

Consider the positive slippery slope of driving to shul on Shabbat. The reason this response was accepted was because removing the prohibition against driving potentially allowed more people to feel comfortable traveling to shul on Shabbat. This, in turn, would help build community and strengthen the Jewish people in the long run. Perhaps rather than calling this positive chain reaction a “slippery slope,” it instead harkens back to how Moshe received the Torah in the first place; he climbed the mountain.

 

Seeds of Change – Parshat Behar 5776

Seeds of Change

When we talk about “planting the seeds of change” or “reaping what you sow,” we’re not merely speaking in metaphors. Certainly there are examples of nature and agricultural symbolism throughout our sacred texts, but this week we learn that the laws of the land (the literal land) are directly related to how we establish a just and equitable society.

This week we read from parshat Behar, the penultimate section of text in the book of Vayikra. The text details the laws of the returning of the land in Israel during the shmitta (jubilee year) and how slaves and land are returned to their prior status. We also read about what happens to Jewish-owned land in the diaspora in the jubilee year and how we are to help those who are in need within our own communities. The text ends with another warning against idolatry.

The Torah also uses a significant amount of space dealing with agricultural laws, which is odd given that the name of the Torah portion is Behar, which means “on the mountain.” We’re talking about a mountain in a desert far from a farming community, and yet here we receive all sorts of laws that don’t apply (yet). As you might expect, the commentators found this odd and looked for an answer.

One medieval commentator shares that perhaps we received these laws at Sinai because at that point no one owned any land yet, so no one could object that a particular law deprived people of what they had worked to acquire. In other words, it is much easier to impose laws at the outset before other norms or traditions become standard operating procedure. The system described is the precursor to the way in which modern Judaism champions social justice.

Or perhaps teaching laws of agriculture among laws of equality and justice is, like much of our religion, symbolic of both the deeply rooted tradition and the potential for growth. The power of social change is the power to change the world. As Jews we may be relatively small in number, but we are mighty as a people.