by Rabbi Corinne Copnick
“See, I place this land at your disposal. Go, take possession of the land that the Lord swore to your fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to assign to them and to their heirs after them” (Deut. 1:8).
The word “Torah” simply means “instruction.” Its history of the ancient Israelites teaches us how they grew into a nation, how, as a people, after 400 years of enslavement in Egypt, they made a covenant with God to follow the Ten Commandments; how, deep in the desert, they developed a purity code to augment the Commandments; and, finally, how – in accordance with God’s directions and considerable loss of life — they took possession of the Holy Land. Through the example of the early Jews, we learn how to govern ourselves and our nations. Circumstances change, but human nature doesn’t. Amazingly, it makes good sense today, thousands of years later.
The Torah contains five books (the Greeks call it “the Pentateuch” in the first translation of the Hebrew Bible into a foreign language, other than Aramaic). The Hebrew Bible itself contains three sections: the Torah (the first five books), the Prophets (which includes the writings of the former and latter prophets and the 12 minor prophets), and Writings (which includes Psalms, Proverbs, and other well-known biblical books).
But today let’s talk about the Torah and its familiar five books:
The Book of Genesis not only describes the process of Creation, it is also about the development of human relations. As individuals multiply (according to the first command ever given) and form families, the Torah also teaches how we should treat or not treat one another.
Exodus is about the development of a nation, as first the Jews seek freedom from tyranny in Egypt, and then, as a covenanted yet still tribal people, learn to work together collectively towards a common goal – to travel through the wilderness toward the Promised Land.
Leviticus, said to have been written by the priests, is about the development of a holiness code. This is how a covenanted people must live, as individuals and as a nation, in order to be worthy of the Holy Land.
Numbers is a very practical book. It assesses the strength and determination of the Israelites gathered in the desert – and their worthiness – to enter the Promised Land and, in conquering it, to make it a holy land.
Deuteronomy is a different kettle of fish. On one level it represents the words of Moses addressing all of Israel: It is thus the long monologue of a courageous leader who understands his time is done, and that he must hand over leadership to a proven younger man (Joshua, son of Nun), who belongs to the next generation, which has grown up in freedom. “Imbue him with strength, for he shall allot it to Israel” (Deut. 1: 38).
On another level, it is the summary of the four previous books, of all that has gone before. If you can only read one book of the Torah, read Deuteronomy – that’s the common wisdom. You might, however, find it a little drier in its rendition than the previous chapters. It’s a history, after all.
“Deuteronomy occupies a unique position in the Hebrew Bible and in the history of biblical scholarship,” writes biblical scholar William W. Hallo. “More nearly than any other biblical book, it can lay claim to having been a book in its own right before it was incorporated into the Bible”. In an accompanying article, Rabbi Gunther Plaut writes that it is a combination of Homily, Cult Libretto, Law Book, and History.
Who wrote Deuteronomy? This question has been a source of speculation for centuries. “The question,” writes my favorite medieval commentator, Abarbanel (who always asks a lot of questions), “is whether this book is from heaven like the first four books, or whether – since it is all in Moses’ voice – these are the words of Moses and not of God.” Was Moses the author, as some contend? If so, why does the last verse announce his death? Obviously, Moses couldn’t do that! Of course, the announcement of his death could have been tacked on to a previous account at a later date. Other authorities think that Deuteronomy was written much later than the earlier books. Still others think that what we call Deuteronomy is the missing scroll that good King Josiah “discovered” as the Temple was being repaired (ca. 640 BCE), the scroll that caused him to henceforth centralize religious ritual at the Temple in Jerusalem (at least that was the reason given at the time). No more rites (with their pagan potential) were to be held at spurious altars outside of the Holy City. All sacrifices henceforth had to take place in Jerusalem.
by Rabbi Corinne Copnick
The Torah portions of Mattot-Mase’ei, which conclude the Book of Numbers, are considered a pair, usually read at the same time, and they cover a lot of ground. Mattot continues from the previous chapter, in which Pinchas takes the law into his own hands by killing an Israelite man who couples with an idolatrous Midianite (apparently not Moabite, as some have contended) woman in his tent. Perhaps it is Pinchas’ act that fuels Moses’ vengeful anger towards the Midianites, whose sexual as well as religious practices are unacceptable to the Israelites.
As their leader, Moses orders the Israelites to wreak vengeance on the Midianites: Any Midianite, man or woman, who has had carnal knowledge is to be killed. Only women who have not had carnal relations are to be spared. Idolatry must not enter the Holy Land. These are difficult passages to read. According to Rabbi Asher Lobatin, we are meant to be shocked by the ferocity of the killing. There is trauma involved in the taking of life, any life. (This extends to the life of an animal, at the root of our dietary laws.)
The Torah recognizes that killing deeply affects the soul of the killer. (Today we call it post-traumatic stress syndrome.) Furthermore, those who have slain others or touched a corpse must remain outside the camp for seven days for ritual cleansing. Only then was the booty shared (booty was acceptable then).
In terms of the modern day Diaspora’s connection with the State of Israel, chapter 32 is emotionally affecting. The tribes of Reuben and Gad, who own a lot of cattle, ask Moses for permission not to cross the Jordan and enter the Promised Land. They want to stay where they are, on this side of the Jordan, where the arable land is perfect for the raising of cattle.
Moses is furious. “Are your brothers to go to war while you stay here?” he asks (verse 6) and goes into a tirade. Rabbi Vered L. Harris notes that scribes traditionally render the Torah with a space between verses 15 and 16. The moment of silence gives the leader time to reconsider. He accedes to the request of the Reubenites and Gadites with certain conditions: first, they must cross the Jordan and fight with their brothers as shock-troops. Only when the Holy Land has been secured, only then can the tribes of Reuben and Gad return to the land on the other side of the Jordan and remain to prosper there.
This passage is instructional, it seems to me, for those of us who live outside of Israel. Stand with your brothers in Israel in their time of need, we are told, even if you don’t want to live there. Only when you have done your duty can you live anywhere you choose. Only then can you devote yourselves to your own prosperity. We might not like it, but that’s what the Torah says.
There is so much more to discuss in these chapters. For one thing, in Parashat Mase’ei, the enumeration of all the locations where the Israelites encamped in the desert is fascinating. (I counted 47 sites –try it; it’s in chapter 33). So the Israelites were not randomly “wandering” for 40 years; rather, Moses led them on a specific route, and they stayed in some places for varying lengths of time. During that time, Aaron died on Mount Hor. It was to be a new generation, one that had grown up in freedom, that settled the Holy Land. “And you shall take possession of the land and settle in it, for I have assigned the land to you to possess” (33:53). Then, in the following verses, the biblical boundaries of the land are set forth, something worthwhile to know when there is still controversy over where lines should be drawn in regard to the modern State of Israel (34:1-12). Boundaries are important in the Torah.
Six cities of refuge (35:6) were also set up for those who had committed accidental manslaughter (as opposed to murder). If they reached a “city of refuge,” no one could touch them – as long as they stayed within that city indefinitely.
The concluding comments concern the five daughters of Zelophedad: Mahlah, Tirzah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Noah. If you recall, after they had presented a respectful argument to Moses, they were granted the right to inherit their father’s land – since there were no sons as heirs – in order not to blot out their father’s names. In Mase’ei, a restriction is added: they may marry anyone they wish, as long as they marry within their tribes. Thus their father’s land will remain within the tribe’s ancestral share. Everyone seemed amenable to this arrangement, and the five daughters did indeed marry accordingly “so their share remained in the tribe of their father’s clan” (36:12). So ends the Book of Numbers.
PINCHAS THE ZEALOT: A MORAL PROBLEM
(Numbers 25:10-30:1)
by Rabbi Corinne Copnick
Whether it applies to social and political relations or to religion, our global society currently needs to take a sharp direction away from zealotry. The horrors that occur when gullible people – whether individuals or angry crowds – are manipulated by powerful zealots for their own ends sadly fill our television and internet screens these days. It’s not new. It has happened over and over again in history, going right back to biblical times and even before. Often God – or the zealot’s misguided understanding of a deity’s transfer of power – is used as an excuse.
In the book of Numbers in the Holy Bible, Pinchas (a grandson of Aaron the priest) is rewarded for using his spear – on his own authority — to pierce through a Jewish man and his Moabite paramour (Zimri and Cozbi, daughter of Zur) in the privacy of the Jewish offender’s tent. True, the tent is in the middle of the Jewish camp, so it seems like an intentional provocation by the couple. Also, in the first few verses (1-9) of Numbers 25, which precede where the Pinchas portion actually starts in verse 10, we get the bigger picture of the Moabite women whoring with the Israelite men and subsequently enticing them to make sacrifices to their pagan god, Baal-peor.
Remember that, for the Israelites in ancient times, idolatry was one of the three capital crimes; the other two were murder and adultery. Remember also that when Pinchas kills both participants in the midst of their infamous sex act in the Jewish camp’s tent, he is taking the law into his own hands. It is murder. The coupling is a moral problem in more ways than one.
And yet the biblical account excuses Pinchas’ passionate act: God’s wrath is thus deflected from the Israelites’ licentious behavior with the enticing women, and therefore, God does not completely wipe them out with a plague (24,000 have already been killed). In God’s eyes, according to the Bible, the impassioned, zealous act of Pinchas has expiated the sin of the Israelites. That’s why he is rewarded with the covenant of peace (which suggests that Pinchas will have to keep the peace too! Nor do Cozbi’s relatives go after Pinchas in revenge.) And Pinchas and his descendants will remain priests for all time.
In my view, God made a mistake by glorifying Pinchas’ zealotry. Earlier in the Bible, Abraham argues with God when he thinks God’s decision is wrong; Moses also argues with God; and in each case God changes his actions. One may reflect that even God is still learning about human beings and their strange behavior in early biblical times. Several thousands years later, all kinds of experts in human behavior are still trying to do that.
The reason that I think excusing Pinchas from murder charges because of his noble intent is mistaken is this: Throughout the following centuries right up to today, impassioned people who believed they were the good guys, and that their cause was right, have massacred those who prayed to a different god – or even thought differently. I don’t think Pinchas deserved to keep his priestly stature after he committed an impulsive act of murder. Yet, in view of his passion for God, Pinchas is given a “pact of friendship (v.12).”
“What exactly is this pact of friendship that the Holy One gave to Phineas [his Egyptian name]?”asks the medieval rabbinic authority, Abarbanel. The commentators of the Middle Ages note, however, that in the telling of Pinchas’ story, the Hebrew letter vav (representing “and”) that connects peace and friendship is written with a break in the middle (Michael Carasik, “Numbers,” The Commentators Bible: The Rubin JPS Miqra’ot Gedolot, NY: JPS, 193.) It is worthy of note that in Jewish biblical law, a priest who has killed someone was not permitted to give the priestly benediction. The Torah is subtle in its disapproval.
The whole story would make some great episodes on “Law and Order.”
Interestingly, there is some controversy among the medieval rabbis as to whether the biblical story applies to the Midianites or the Moabites. While the Jewish Publication Society translation refers to the Moabite women, medieval commentators tend to refer to the same women as Midianites. So, which pagan tribe is it? If indeed the immoral women were Moabites, we should remember Ruth, who (later in the Bible) was so loyal and kind to Naomi, who put aside her own beliefs, who was the ancestress of King David – Ruth also came from Moab. She is considered Judaism’s first convert.
So perhaps another ending was possible for the murdered couple fornicating in the tent.
* * * *
Fortunately, as I see it, this Torah portion is redeemed by the inspiring story of the daughters of Zelophehad, from the tribe of Manassah, which also appears in this portion. Their names, which should be honored, are Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah. They made their argument forthrightly, not to God, but to Moses, their acknowledged leader. They pointed out that their recently deceased and honorable father was not one of the rebellious Korach’s faction. Unfortunately, though, their father died without sons. According to biblical custom at that time, his five daughters could not inherit his property.
Speaking jointly, respectfully, and logically to Moses – this episode shortly follows the Korach rebellion in the chronology of the Bible – the five daughters made an excellent case for their father’s property being transferred to them even though they were women. They explained that otherwise the continuance of their father’s name would be lost to his clan, who would absorb the property. Blotting out someone’s name was a serious turn of events in biblical times.
Moses was impressed both by their argument and their intelligent demeanor. Long before the Women of the Wall clamoring for equality in modern Israel, the five daughters of Zelophehad were effective feminists – and in turn, Moses brought the case to God for judgment.
As the Bible portrays it, God also thought the case of the five daughters was just. It was right that they should get the hereditary holding among their father’s kinsmen. “Transfer their father’s share to them,” God is quoted as ruling in the Bible (Numbers 27:6-11). “Further, speak to the Israelite people as follows: ‘If a man dies without leaving a son, you shall transfer his property to his daughter.’ ” And God’s word became the law of the land. In my view, God made a much better decision in this instance than in the case of Pinchas. Maybe that’s why both cases are in the same parsha. If you make a mistake, it’s always possible to redeem yourself.
By Rabbi Corinne Copnick
Although most of the residents of this upscale retirement home were Christian, a few Jewish residents had asked the Pastor if a Rabbi could give a sermon there. And that’s how I happened to be addressing about 50 or so Seniors at their Vespers service on a Sunday afternoon. “You can talk about the Pentateuch or the Psalms or the rest of the Old Testament,” the Pastor had advised me, “but please don’t talk about God.” I think he really meant that I should not talk about theological differences, but I agreed. “Okay, I won’t talk about God.” I didn’t share with the Pastor that in Israel today, there is a “movement” of Jews who don’t believe in God. They call themselves Secular Jews.
But that afternoon, at the elegant Senior Residence, I was addressing believing Christians. So, after a memorial prayer for the three Israeli teens and one Palestinian who died so violently, so needlessly, recently, and an expression of solidarity with their families, I taught this Christian group the simple words of the song, “Hine Ma Tov,” in Hebrew (the words are taken from the first verse of Psalm 133, a short prayer of gratitude, which reads “Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!”), and then I preceded the discussion of the scriptural portion for the day with a few remarks.
“The scriptural portion of our service (Numbers 22:2-25:9) for today,” I said,
“comes from the Pentateuch, which is Greek for “Five,” and refers to the Five Books of Moses, which in Hebrew is called “the Torah,” which means “Instruction.” You probably know that the entire Old Testament was first written in Hebrew, and then it was translated into Greek, which was called The Septuagint, and then it was translated into Latin. And from the Latin, it was translated into English and, eventually, many other languages.
“That’s why it is useful to study Hebrew, because, after all those translations, the meaning of the words may not be exactly the same in English. Added to that, the original Hebrew words did not have any vowels. It was all consonants, like text messaging. The reader has to figure out the rest. So the meaning also depends on the vowels you give to the words. There are many Christian scholars studying Hebrew today – online at Hebrew University in Jerusalem and elsewhere — exactly for that reason: to check out what the words are really saying and read the Bible in its original language — and to understand that there are various meanings possible for many words.”
“So I’d like you to think of studying the Bible,” I said, “as if you were playing the piano. If you’ll notice, there are both black and white keys on the piano. We could play some nice music on the white keys alone, but we wouldn’t have the nuances that the black keys, the sharps and flats, would give the music. If we just played on the white keys, it would be like reading the Bible literally, in C Major all the time. So as a soon-to-be rabbi – the word “rabbi” means “my teacher” — my job is to add the interpretation, the sharps and flats.
“A rabbi’s sermon is called a “derash,” an interpretation,” I continued. “What is written down in the Pentateuch is called the ‘Written Torah.’ And the interpretation is called the ‘Oral Torah,’ much of which has been transmitted from generation to generation, although new commentary is continually added. So ‘[r]abbinic language contains numerous layers of meaning. The Talmud [a compilation of centuries of rabbinic commentary on the Torah] frequently attempts to uncover the hidden meaning of a word… thereby revealing new understandings of the … teaching.’ That is why we need both – the white keys and the black keys too – to fully understand the intent, the background, and the underlying story.
“Our scriptural portion, which this week is from Numbers 22:2-25:9, is the story of Balak (the warlike Moabite king who is fearful that the Jews will become too numerous and overrun his kingdom, and thus he wishes the Jews harm), and it’s also the story of Bilaam (the prophet whom the Moabite king hires to curse Israel), and the third character is Bilaam’s talking donkey, who turns out to have more sense than either Balak or Bilaam. The prophet, Bilaam, is supposed to be a visionary, but it turns out that his Donkey is the visionary. It’s the Donkey – and the Bible specifies that it’s a she-Donkey, presumably even more sensitive than a male donkey would be — whose acute animal senses enable her to see Angels along the road, warning that Bilam should not curse the Israelites. What’s wrong with human beings? the Donkey complains, in effect. “You ride on me all day, and then you beat me? Angels keep telling you to stop, three times – don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it — and you don’t hear, Bilaam!” Finally listening to the Donkey, Bilam promises that the only words he will speak are the ones that the Eternal One puts in his mouth. And when Bilaam glimpses the Israelites camping out in the desert, the words that do emerge from his mouth are those of admiration and blessing. “Ma Tovu.” “ How Good!….
These words flow out of Balaam’s mouth from the top of the mountain that overlooks where the Hebrews are encamped. It is the third time that King Balak has tried to get Balaam to curse the Israelites, and yet, miraculously, out of Balaam’s mouth comes a blessing. What was supposed to be a curse is turned into a blessing. The Bible story teaches us that, with God’s help, human beings do have the power to transform a curse into a blessing. And that words of peace are better than acts of war.
“And there is more. Remarkably, generations later, the biblical Ruth, a Moabite woman who became a Jew-by-choice, was actually the great-granddaughter of King Balak – and, by her marriage to Boaz, she was also the great-grandmother of King David (from whom it is foretold that the Messiah will come). And that is how a curse became a blessing, and an enemy became part of the Jewish family.
“Today, Jews still sing the words of Balak’s emissary, Bilaam, as part of the liturgical morning blessings: Mah tovu ohalecha Ya’akov, mishk’notecha Yisrael, “How goodly are your tents, O Jacob, your dwellings, O Israel” (Numbers 24:5).
“This dramatic scene from Numbers 24:5, is traditionally coupled with one of the most quoted passages in the Bible, the few lines from the prophet Micah (6:8) that sum up what we are each commanded to do to be a blessing every day:
“He has told you, O man, what is good,
And what the Lord requires of you:
Only to do justice
And to love goodness,
And to walk modestly with your God;
Then will your name achieve wisdom.”
With the initial approach of El Nino, I lay awake in Los Angeles in mid-December listening to the howling of the wind. When I turned on the news, commentators were describing the strength and height of the waves on the North Pacific Coast and the floods breaking through dams in the Central United States. I spent the rest of the night reflecting on the enormous devastation that uncontrolled nature could predictably wreak. The possible damage from the warming temperatures that precede El Nino has long been expected – but too often unheeded. And then my mind travelled to Parshat Bo, the biblical portion (Exodus 10:1-11:10) in which the Divine hand invokes nature’s retribution for the Pharaoh’s refusal to release the Hebrews from bondage. In this passage, some of the plagues have already been enacted, and the consequences for Egypt have been daunting. Those to come, each one more severe than the other, have already been foretold to the Pharaoh through the human agency of Moses and his brother, Aaron. Still, Pharaoh will not bend.
But now, as the Bible portrays, God will actually harden Pharaoh’s heart so that the severity of the punishment will be increased. Why? We contemporaries cannot help wondering if this is merely an ancient show of power (sometimes compared to God’s actions in the Book of Job), so that people will turn to God instead of the pagan deities of Egypt, foremost among them Pharaoh himself. As God clearly tells Moses, “I have hardened his [Pharaoh’s]heart and the hearts of his courtiers, in order that I may display these My signs among them, and that you may recount in the hearing of your sons and of your sons’ sons (which Jews have done ever since at Passover) how I made a mockery of the Egyptians and how I displayed My signs among them – in order that you may know that I am the Lord”(Exodus 10:1-2).
However, it is important to understand that the visitation of the next four plagues represent far more than a contest of power between the Eternal God of the Hebrews and the supreme power of the Pharaoh. What is remarkable is that the Pharaoh cannot bring himself to yield to God through these horrific experiences, even though he has been forewarned that even worse consequences are on their way. “[H]e shows disdain, anxiety, shrewdness, and even confesses to error…..[but only] when his own son is dead does he give in, defeated both as a Pharaoh and a father,” writes Rabbi Gunther Plaut in The Torah, a Modern Commentary, p. 419).
For Plaut, the Pharaoh remains “an intelligible human being, acting as one would expect a man of his tradition and position to act. Later Jewish tradition depicted him as unusually evil, but this position does not conform with the biblical tale itself, which recounts the release of Israel as a drama of cosmic proportions occurring at the same time in the framework of expectable human behavior.”
In our contemporary society, many of us react to unpleasant realities in the same unthinking way, instead of adjusting our behavior to accommodate a new framework of knowledge. Fortunately, at least part of he world seems to be coming to its senses, and, even as citizens are sandbagging their coastal or vulnerable homes in California, a climate control resolution (not yet a solution) has finally been agreed upon internationally. Still, there are those – many of them otherwise intelligent human beings — who will not yield to the possibility of human responsibility in aggravating, if not creating, a potential natural disaster:
In the mystical tradition of absorbing the Torah portions and applying their lessons to our own behavior – to applying them to our deepest selves, as Rabbi Mordecai Finley teaches — we can realize that each of us has an inner Pharaoh, with unconscious motivations that are part of being human beings, whether or not we hold the power that Pharaoh does. At least we hold power over ourselves, our behavior, and our decisions. Yet even as educated and normally compassionate human beings in a Western context, we may find it difficult to adjust to new knowledge, to necessary but unfamiliar ways of conducting our lives. In order to do so, we have to allow ourselves to feel. We cannot afford to let our hearts harden.
That is why I like Rabbi J.B. Sacks’ translation of the Hebrew word usually translated “harden” in Parshat Bo. The root of the word, however, is k-v-d, which can also be translated as “weighted,” he wrote in a D’var Torah (“Weighting One’s Heart, “AJRCA, 2013).) God weighted the callous Pharaoh’s heart, made him heavy-hearted, so that he could feel the ultimate punishment, so that he would feel the loss of his son as a human being and not just as a Pharaoh. “It is not from experience but from our inability to experience what is given to our mind that certainty of the realness of God is derived,’ elaborated the great Rabbi A.J. Heschel. “…Our certainty is the result of wonder and radical amazement, of awe before the mystery and meaning of the totality of life beyond our rational discerning (The Torah, A Modern Commentary, 399).” Perhaps it was to make that point for all time that God sent ten plagues upon the Egyptians.
Equally appealing to me is an alternate understanding of the Hebrew word, “Bo,” the title word of this parsha, . God addresses Moses with this simple, directive word, giving us an important clue as to the the intention of the parsha. In Hebrew, “Bo” can mean either “Come” or “Go.” In the JPS translation I own, it is rendered as “Go.” But the command to Moses is not the same as “Lech l’cha”, “Go forth,” the command given to his ancestor, Abraham. Later in the parsha, the Pharaoh’s imperative to Moses and Aaron and their followers is “L’chu,” meaning “GO!” in the plural. So, in my opinion, the “Bo” that opens the parsha is best translated as “Come!” It suggests a compassionate God extending a hand to Moses, a connector between God and mankind. “Come with me! You are not alone. I will be at your side in facing this challenge.” Even though Moses was apparently 80 years old and well experienced in the world at the time he confronted the Pharaoh, he was initially reluctant to undertake the task. it’s nice to have a helping hand at any age.
As this 21st century progresses, may God hold out his hand to all of us, young and old alike, helping us to face with courage – and surmounting together – the challenges of the future.
With a celebrated background that spans the arts, and the author of several books, Rabbi Corinne Copnick graduated from AJRCA in 2016. She celebrated her 80th birthday in January as she serves as Guest Staff Rabbi on a cruise to South America. In Los Angeles, she is currently sought after as a Guest Speaker and initiated a popular Jewish study group called Beit Kulam. In March, she will serve on a panel exploring the needs of Interfaith Families and their relationship to the Jewish community.