Pinchas 5782
Num. 25:10 – 30:1
Rabbi Gary Pokras

Miriam had died. So had Aaron. This week, God reminds Moses that his time, as well, is limited. Moses, the consummate leader, responds to God:

“May the Lord, God of the spirits of all flesh, appoint someone over this community to go out and come in before them, one who will lead them out and bring them in, so the Lord’s people will not be like sheep without a shepherd.” [Num. 27:15-17]

God responds, saying:

“Take you Joshua son of Nun, a man who has spirit within him, and lay your hand upon him. And you shall stand him before Eleazar the priest and before all the community, and you shall charge him before their eyes. And you shall set something of your grandeur upon him in order that all the community will heed …” [Num. 27:16-21]

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks notes the extraordinary nature both of Moses’ request, and God’s answer. He wrote:

“This is not a call to Priests or Prophets – a sacred elite – but to an entire people. There is, within Judaism a profound egalitarian instinct: the concept of a nation of individuals standing with equal dignity in the presence of God.” [R. Jonathan Sacks, commentary to Pinchas, 5779]

In his role as political leader of Israel, Moses may very well have wanted a dynastic succession, just like what was granted to his brother Aaron and the priesthood. How proud Moses might have been to see one of his sons succeed him and lead the people into the Promised Land. God, however, had other ideas – which Moses had already internalized. He does not ask for a dynasty, but for God to select the right leader for the job. God acts just so. Joshua is the one who stood by Moses’ side for forty years of wandering through the Wilderness. Joshua would inherit the mantle of leadership.

Millenia later, another Moses, Moses Maimondies wrote:

“With three crowns was Israel crowned – with the crown of Torah, the crown of Priesthood, and the crown of Kingship. The crown of Priesthood was bestowed on Aaron and his descendants. The crown of Kingship was conferred on David and his successors. But the crown of Torah is for all Israel. Whosoever wishes, let them come and take it. Do not suppose that the other two crowns are greater than that of Torah … The crown of Torah is greater than the other two crowns.” [Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Talmud Torah, 3:1]

When the monarchy fell, and eventually, the Temple was destroyed, only one crown remained, but it is the greatest of them all. In the two thousand years since, the crown of Torah has been one of the secrets to our resilience and our moments of success. All of us are equal before God, all of us can aspire to lead, all of us can learn and even master Torah – all of us can wear the crown.

Balak 5872
Num. 22:2 – 25:9
Rabbi Jack Luxemburg 

This Torah portion is full of surprises. It is named for a pagan king, Balak, who ruled over Moab, a territory that is now part of modern-day Jordan. It introduces us to a complicated character, Balam, a soothsayer, and magician who is hired by Balak to curse our Israelite ancestors. 

הִנֵּ֤ה הָעָם֙ הַיֹּצֵ֣א מִמִּצְרַ֔יִם וַיְכַ֖ס אֶת־עֵ֣ין הָאָ֑רֶץ עַתָּ֗ה לְכָ֤ה קָֽבָה־לִּי֙ אֹת֔וֹ אוּלַ֥י אוּכַ֛ל לְהִלָּ֥חֶם בּ֖וֹ וְגֵרַשְׁתִּֽיו׃ 

Here is a people that came out from Egypt and hides the earth from view. Come now and curse them for me; perhaps I can engage them in battle and drive them off.”  (Numbers 22:11) 

Balak fears that our ancestors will overrun his land, even conquer it. He want Balam to somehow diminish the strength of our ancestors so he can repel them, “drive them off”.  Balam, the text suggests, is not satisfied with that limited goal.  Both the Torah text and later commentators imply that Balam was ready, for reasons of his own, to curse the people of Israel into oblivion. (Midrash Tanchuma, Balak 5) 

However, there is another surprise.  Balam talks to God!   Not the pagan god or gods of the Moabites that Balak, his patron, might invoke but the God, the God of the Torah, the very same God who is guiding and protecting our ancestors on their journey to the promised land of Israel.  What are we to make of this character enshrined in our Torah – a pagan, someone seeking the demise of our people, haughty and deceptive (as portrayed in Midrash), and yet who prays to and speaks with God? (Numbers 22: 8-10) Who even refers to the God of Torah as, “my God”? (Numbers 22:18) 

Perhaps one way to approach this puzzle is to ask why is this narrative … with many other surprises, including a talking donkey (!) who tries to dissuade Balam from his ill-considered attempt … why is it preserved in the Torah text?  There may be several reasons. 

One is to demonstrate that the God of Torah is a universal and accessible god, not limited to the boundaries of a particular people or land.  Balak has enough insight to apprehend God, but not enough understanding to grasp God’s will regarding the people of Israel.  While he refers to the God of Torah as his God, we see that his own vanity, greed and self-importance are really what he reveres the most. 

Another reason might be that this narrative confirms that God protects Israel from any type of assault be it in the confrontation with other nations that seek to destroy the people of Israel, or in proposed contests with the gods of those same people.  Whether the warfare is physical or spiritual, God provides protection.  Despite all his efforts and all his power – which even the 

Midrash assumes – Balam cannot thwart or manipulate the God of the Torah has he was believed to do to the gods worshipped by his pagan patrons.  

A third reason, that occurs to me each time I read this passage, is that it is a cutting critique of the pagan world view.  Read from a particular perspective, the narrative boarders on the farcical right up to the moment – after three furtive attempts to curse the Israelites – Balam finally opens his mouth and what comes out of it is a blessing rather than a curse.  And it is a blessing so powerful and evocative of the wellbeing of our people that it is repeated in the synagogue every morning. 

                  מַה־טֹּ֥בוּ אֹהָלֶ֖יךָ יַעֲקֹ֑ב מִשְׁכְּנֹתֶ֖יךָ יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃ 

                 How fair are your tents, O Jacob,
                   Your dwellings, O Israel!   (Numbers 24:5) 

But there is yet another reason that may explain why this narrative with all its surprises and unexpected twists is preserved.  And that is how it stands in juxtaposition with the conclusion of the Torah portion.  

                      וַיֵּ֥שֶׁב יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל בַּשִּׁטִּ֑ים וַיָּ֣חֶל הָעָ֔ם לִזְנ֖וֹת אֶל־בְּנ֥וֹת מוֹאָֽב׃ 

                     While Israel was staying at Shittim, the menfolk profaned 

                     themselves by whoring with the Moabite women, 

                     וַתִּקְרֶ֣אןָ לָעָ֔ם לְזִבְחֵ֖י אֱלֹהֵיהֶ֑ן וַיֹּ֣אכַל הָעָ֔ם וַיִּֽשְׁתַּחֲו֖וּ לֵאלֹֽהֵיהֶֽן׃ 

                      who invited the menfolk to the sacrifices for their god. 

                     The menfolk partook of them and worshiped that god. 

According to the Talmud (Sanhedrin 106a), this was a set-up, suggested by a frustrated Balam to a fearful Balak who sent women to seduce the Israelite men, draw them away from God and from under God’s protection. These verses, and those following which detail the consequences of this unfortunate turn of events, constitute a cautionary coda to the story of Balam.  While that story presents the power of God to protect the Jewish people, this coda tells the contrasting story – one of human weakness.  Taken together, they constitute a cautionary and provocative tale —  how human foibles and frailty can undermine God’s providence.  Certainly something to ponder. 

Chukkat 5782 
Num. 19:1 – 22:1
Rabbi Gary Pokras 

(originally published in 2017) 

What does it mean to bring water from the rock? 

Miriam has just died. Moses and Aaron are mourning. The Israelites are clamoring, yet again, against Moses. This time, they are demanding water because Miriam had been the water diviner for the community, and now she was gone. Not knowing what to do, Moses turns to God, who commands him to tap the rock with his staff so that water will come forth. 

The imagery captures our imaginations. In the dry and desolate Wilderness, life is precarious and water a precious commodity. Yet the Wilderness, when all seems hopeless, is exactly where our ancestors encounter God over and again. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of death, Thou art with me …” [Psalm 23:4] 

It is almost as if, in order to truly find God, we must first come face to face with our own vulnerability.  

In our parasha, Moses makes a terrible mistake. When God commands him to tap the rock, Moses turns to the Israelites and says: “Listen, you rebels, shall we get water for you out of this rock?” [Num. 20:10] Then he smacks the rock not once, but twice with his staff. 

God’s response was both swift and personally devastating for Moses. God said: “Because you did not trust Me enough to affirm My sanctity in the sight of the Israelite people, therefore you shall not lead this congregation into the land I have given them.” [Num. 20:12]  

What precisely did Moses do wrong?  

He used the word, “we.”  

He said, “… shall we get water for you out of this rock.” 

On the one hand, I think that Moses deserves a little slack here. The poor man has just lost his sister, and he has had a difficult and thankless time of it trying to lead our people out of Egypt. It could have merely been his frustration speaking, just this once. On the other hand, the people follow his example, even as they complain every step of the way. His responsibility as a role model does not allow, not even once, for him to even suggest that he has power like God.  

From a cosmic standpoint, to the extent that we could even understand such a position, this may well be an irrecoverable mistake. Yet, there may also be a more human lesson here. When we put ourselves in emotional armor, so much so that we replace the “Thou” of God with “we,” when we think of ourselves as powerful and in command of our domains, that could be when we need time in the Wilderness. The Promised Land, and I am not referring merely to geography, may only reachable after we have learned to take off our armor, after we have been forced to drink water from the rock.