Eikev (Deuteronomy 7:12-11:25)
D’var Torah by: Rabbi Corinne Copnick
Have you ever hummed your way through a Torah portion? At the end (eikev means “heel”) of reading this chapter, strains of liturgy were dancing through my mind. We find here the prayer for rain – one that strikes strong chords in California – that is echoed in every service. The Shield of Abraham prayer is here, part of the Amida, and there is a foretaste of the prayer that gets a concise rerun in Micah 6:8. Here is Eikev’s earlier version: “And now, O Israel, what does the Lord your God demand of you? Only this; to revere the Lord your God, to walk only in His paths, to love Him, and to serve the Lord your God with all your heart and soul, keeping the Lord’s commandments and laws, which I enjoin upon you today, for your own good” (Deut: 10:12-14). I am still humming.
The commandment that has inspired the wearing of tefillin is here, along with the injunction to teach God’s words to your children: “Therefore impress My words upon your very heart: bind the as a sign on your hand and let them serve as a symbol on your forehead, and teach them to your children – reciting them when you stay at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you get up; and inscribe them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates – to the end that you and your children may endure, in the land that the Lord swore to your fathers to assign to them (Deut. 18–21).
These biblical verses, incorporated into our liturgy through the centuries, are likely to be familiar to you if you attend Jewish prayer services anywhere, or if you kiss the mezuzah on your door when you enter your home. One of my daughters, who lives in Vancouver, resolved this year to read through the Torah, portion by portion, every week, in order to know what it actually says. So each week I have been writing a commentary in Los Angeles, then posting it online. In turn, she reads it, along with some other commentaries. Then we get together, by phone or Skype, and discuss the portion across the miles. One thing to learn is that every time we read a Torah portion, something else jumps out of the text, something we didn’t notice before. My daughter has become my chevruta (my study companion).
In the midst of the cornucopia of memorable verses that Eikev offers, what particularly interested me this week is the fact that Eikev is a “second chance” portion of the Torah. In the Golden Calf episode, the Israelites, impatient for Moses to come down from the mountain, sinned grievously. Idolatry! As the Torah portrays, Moses smashed the original tablets of the Ten Commandments in anger. But here God shows a forgiving side (although plenty of people are punished with destruction, too), and both Moses and the Israelites are given a second chance: they get a new set of tablets (Deut. 10:1-5). Another chance to love God with all your heart and follow the divine commandments.
Historically, giving people a second chance has been an essential component of American society too. Many of the people who migrated to these shores were seeking a second chance. It figures in the way we are supposed to help refugees make a new life, in our justice system – particularly in regard to young offenders – in domestic situations like marriage. In is an element of the second and third career choices that abound today now that science, healthy food, and good living, have increased our life spans. And so on. If God can give second chances, surely we mere mortals can do it too. And, as Rosh Hashanah approaches, we all need another chance to repair our spiritual lives, our inner selves. After all, as one of the important teachings of Eikev advises, we cannot live by bread alone! (Deut. 8:3). Yes, I’m singing, and I’m dancing too.
by Rabbi Corinne Copnick
If you only read one chapter of the Torah, read Va’etchanan. If you missed the Ten Commandments first time round in Exodus, Moses repeats them here (5:6a-18). The Shema prayer, the core affirmation of Judaism, is also here (6:4-9), included in the re-teaching of the laws and regulations that Judaism requires. So, just in this one chapter, you learn the nuts and bolts of how to be a Jew. You learn about Moses’ autobiographical experience, and about why God chose the Jews to impart his wisdom. “It is not because you are the most numerous of peoples that the Lord set his heart on you and chose you – indeed, you are the smallest of peoples” (7:7).
In fact, there is an old folktale (a whimsical story not in the Torah) that says God first offered the Torah to all the powerful nations of the earth in turn, but all of them rejected his offer. It was too much trouble to observe all the rules and regulations, and, anyway they were too busy conquering nations, amassing riches, and building pyramids. So then God offered the Torah to Israel, and this little nation felt honored to accept living in accordance with its precepts.
Why did Jews really agree to live by the Torah? Was it because they had an inspirational leader? According to Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, the word “why” is the most powerful question one can ask. “In Va-etchanan,” he writes in ‘The Power of Why,’ (an online article excerpted from one of my favorite books, Covenant and Conversation) “Moses says some of the most inspiring words ever uttered about the why of Jewish existence. That is what made him the great transformational leader he was, and it has consequences for us, here, now.”
As every mother of a three-year-old toddler knows, the insistence of “why” begins early. We start to look around our environment, the world around us, and our sense of wonder is stimulated. It is the repeated question “why” that leads us to God. All too often we forget that question as we grow older. It is easier just to accept things as they are.
But, referring to the history of the world, and, especially to the history of the Jews as God led them from bondage in Egypt toward the Promised Land, the Torah has an answer to this particular question: “You have but to inquire about bygone ages that came before you, ever since God created man on earth; has anything as grand as this ever happened, or has its like ever been known?” (4:32).
And there is another, essential, reason for our Jewish history. We are meant to inspire, Rabbi Sacks says, to be a light to the rest of humanity by example. Our ancient history and teachings have been recorded in the Torah for centuries – but our story is not only for Jews, but also for everyone who finds value in it. People often forget that the Hebrew Bible is a vital part of Christianity, known as the Old Testament. What Jesus originally taught his followers was to return to the values of Torah, pure and simple. In addition to the Torah, the first five books, the Hebrew Bible includes the books of the Prophets and the Writings (such as Psalms and Proverbs).
One of the most essential things the Hebrew Bible teaches us is resilience, how to regain our strength and purpose after disaster. On this Sabbath we read Va’etchanan from the Torah because it is the Sabbath of Comfort. This reading comes right after Tisha B’Av, the holy day commemorating many collective Jewish disasters (myjewishlearning.com/article/a-day-of-disaster): the destruction of the First (586 BCE) and Second (70 CE) Temples as well as the fortress of Shimon Bar Kochba (135 CE); and much later, the Edict of Expulsion of the Jews from England (1290 CE) and a century later, the Edict of Expulsion by the Spanish Inquisition (1492 CE). These cruelties were deliberately initiated on Tisha B’Av; so were some heinous crimes initiated by the Nazis in the twentieth century.
After the Second Temple was destroyed by the Romans, Jews were prohibited from reading aloud from the Torah. Instead they followed the law by substituting similar messages from the Prophets. These became known as the Haftarah. There is one to accompany each Torah portion.
On the Sabbath of Comfort, Va’etchanan, a selection from the Haftarah is also read. It is the first (Nachamu, nachamu) of four Haftarahs of Consolation that are read preceding Rosh Hashanah. So on this special Sabbath when the inspiring Va’etchanan is read first, we are offered both comfort and consolation.
“Comfort, oh comfort My people,
Says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem…” (Isaiah 40:1-2).
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.