Pinchas 5773

Zelophechad fathered five daughters and no sons.  Since he died without male heir, his property would pass outside the clan.  The daughters, Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milchan, and Tirzah protest their exclusion and bring their case before Moses.  They plead their suit front of the High Priest, chieftains, and entire community (Numbers 27:2).   What chutzpah to think they had standing!  What chutzpah to think they were entitled to anything!  What chutzpah to speak to Moses!  What chutzpah to think they could change the system!

Moses, uncertain of the correct response, “brought their case before God” (27:5).  God agrees with the women, and the law is changed. 

Thus begins a long and noble tradition of appealing injustice.

This week, five brave plaintiffs’ suits were heard at the highest court of the land.  One of them was Edith “Edie” Windsor, widow of Thea Spyer.  Because the Federal government did not recognize their marriage, Edie was required to pay federal estate taxes upon Thea’s death.  What chutzpah to think she had standing!  What chutzpah to think she was entitled to anything!  What chutzpah to sue the United States government!  What chutzpah to think an act of Congress could be overturned!

And yet, this week, it was.

When we see or an experience an injustice, we must work to fix it.  There will no doubt be obstacles.  Nonetheless, we are obliged to work and appeal and protest and try and laugh and scream and appeal and learn and appeal again and again until the wrong is made right.  It’s chutzpah, and it is also tzedek.

A Bit of Torah -- Balak

As any reader of children’s books knows, profound truths spring from the mouths of talking animals.  (See Bruno Bettelheim, The Uses of Enchantment).  The reader of the Torah knows the same.

King Balak of Moab orders the prophet Balaam to curse the Israelites.  Against his better judgment, Balaam makes his way to the Israelite camp.  But his donkey refuses to carry him, stopping in her tracks and chastising her master for agreeing to the mission.

Rabbi Andy Shapiro Katz offers a unique reading of the story:  Balaam and the donkey are two aspects of the same being.  Balaam represents the intellect, that part of ourselves that’s capable of convincing us that we are on the right path.  It’s the piece of us that can’t see when we are going wrong.  The animal, on the other hand, represents the gut instinct, the innate knowing of what’s right for us.   The intellect may be distracted by power, money, or flattery.  Our inner self, however, knows these to be dross.  It points us instead to our greatest good, our better angel, the highest expression of our Self.

Chukkat 5773

The Israelites, on their way from Egypt to Canaan, seek to pass through the land of Edom.  The king refuses entry.

The Hebrews pledge to “keep to the beaten track, and if we or our cattle drink your water, we will pay for it.  We ask only for passage on foot – it is but a small matter” (Numbers 20:19).  Edom refuses again, this time “strongly armed.”  He will not give; he will not share.

Some people have a deficit mentality.  They live in a state of deprivation, assuming that there won’t be enough.  For whatever sound reasons, they perpetually fear running out, being left without.  The glass is half-empty and the pitcher cracked.  When asked, they invariably lead with ‘no.’

In the Torah, Moses counters Edom’s refusal with logic, saying, in essence, “Don’t worry -- we will not take from you.”  But this is rarely effective when dealing with someone with a deficit mentality.  Since their perception of the situation is based in fear, they can always come up with a counter-argument.  Such people trust best in the context of relationship, when they know their needs are known and respected.

When Moses tells the King of Edom “it is but a small matter,” he signals that he doesn’t take the King’s fears seriously.  Why would I trust someone who diminishes my feelings?  What if Moses had instead said “I can imagine that you’re nervous about having so many people walk through your land.  You have a lot of people to protect and, after all, resources are scarce.  I am hoping you can help us in our plight.  What do you need from us to allow us to pass through your lands?”

If Moses had spoken in such a respectful way, and within the context of a relationship, perhaps Edom wouldn’t have felt all walked over.

Korach 5773

Korach son of Izhar rebels against Moses, saying “The entire community is holy -- all of them -- and God is in their midst.  Why then do you raise yourselves above God’s congregation?”  (Numbers 16:3)  Korach appears to challenge Moses’ leadership on theological grounds.  Perhaps the struggle is interpersonal instead.  Is the issue one of good governance, or of ego?

The Vilna Gaon, the great Litvak scholar of the 1700s, wrote: "If the people are friends after the argument -- that is a sign that the argument was over the issue and not personal. If they are not friendly after the argument -- then something else was going on."

Arguments are inevitable.  We bump up against each other in the course of daily life.  Our perspectives clash with those held by others – even people we love.  We cannot always control our anger.  Rather than submit to it, however, we are well served by maintaining some distance from it.  We can reframe our experience of the emotion from “being angry” to “feeling anger.”  In the former, we are consumed by our emotions.  In the latter, they move through us:  here now, gone shortly.

It pays to be certain that our anger is serving us rather than the other way around.  That way, our relationships can stay healthy, and anger won’t swallow us whole.