At first glance, the double portion of Matot-Masei can be tough to connect with. A large part of the text is concerned with the division of booty after a successful campaign against the Midianites, and there is a detailed description of the physical journey towards Canaan. The portion concludes with instructions for how the Promised Land will be apportioned (once it has been conquered). There are so many names and numbers to read – where may we find something that speaks to us today?
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks suggests that we focus on the section at the beginning of chapter 32, where the Reubenites & the Gadites come to Moses and the community leaders to ask if, since the land on this side of the Jordan river was so good for cattle (and they had a lot of cattle), that it might be assigned to them, rather than receiving a share from across the river.
The request was a trigger for Moses. It reminded him of the spies sent to scout out Canaan[1], and how disheartened the Israelites became from their reports. Moses believed that if the Reubenites & Gadites did not go over with the others, it would “turn the minds of the Israelites from crossing into the land that God has given them.”[2] Having heard how Moses felt, tribal leaders stepped up to him and vowed that they would fight alongside all the tribes, and not cross back until every other tribe was in possession of its inheritance. Moses agreed, saying that, if they kept their word, they would be “innocent before God and Israel”.[3]
Rabbi Sacks taught that this phrase, “innocent before God and Israel”, has become an ethical axiom of Judaism: “It is not enough to do what is right in the eyes of God. One must also act in such a way as to be seen to have done the right in the eyes of one’s fellow man (sic).”[4]
Sacks saw the Reubenites and the Gadites choose to behave in a way that benefited more than just their own desires. That led him to teach that it is a duty for all of us to be role models. He understood how important it was that everyone in the group has a responsibility to the community, as well as to themselves. That with the choices we make individually, each of us has the opportunity to influence others, however great or small our choices may seem to be.
This was not to say that Jews have been endowed “with a capacity for instructing and guiding all humanity”[5], a thought that has morphed into a canard of antisemitism, i.e., that we think we are better than everyone else. How many times have we had to explain to somebody that no, to be a role model is not to be a saint (Jews don’t do saints). That to be the Chosen People does not give us any superior status. What, then, could this role be?
In the final year before my ordination, I went to visit my beloved mentor, Rabbi Stephen A Arnold. I told him that I didn’t think I could complete my studies. I was such a mess, I said, that I couldn’t possibly stand up in front of a congregation and dare to tell them how to be good. He said, you are an idiot! That’s not what you’re supposed to do. Your job is to do as well as you can, of course, but when you fall down, you get up in front of them! This gave meaning to being a role model. To acknowledge my errors. To make teshuvah. And to recalibrate and continue. This was doable. This IS doable.
It’s sooooo hot at the moment. The combination of the rays of the sun, and the heat of the world’s turmoil, leaves me gasping for breath. I’m anxious, exhausted, and overwhelmed. Can I be sure that my efforts will even make a difference?
The Talmud tells the story of Honi the Circle Maker, known for bringing rain in a time of drought[6]. One day, Honi was walking down the road when he saw a person planting a carob tree. Honi asked: this tree – how many years will it take before it bears fruit? The person replied: It will take 70 years until the first fruit. Honi said: do you think you will live long enough to be able to eat that fruit? The person responded: I was born into a world of carob trees. Just as my ancestors planted for me, I am planting for those who come afterwards.
This story, which appears in several versions in several cultures, is the antidote to the pressure we feel at the moment. We are called to plant seeds, that others may nurture. We are also called to the work of nurturing. Not all seeds will bear fruit, yet still we must plant. And our seeds are not always carob trees. They can be all the actions, small and great, that we take in our everyday lives. Above all, they are the way we treat ourselves, each other, and the living world around us. The belief that the seeds that we plant and care for will inspire the generations to come, is the source of our hope. Kein yehi ratzon.
- In memory of my father, Rabbi Albert H Friedlander, whose English yahrzeit falls today, 8 July.
—
[1] In Parshat Sh’lach, Numbers 13 & 14 (except for Caleb & Joshua) the reports of the spies encouraged the Israelites to lose faith, and they became afraid. God lost patience and wanted to destroy them, but Moses talked God out of that. However, their punishment was to wander the desert for 40 years.
[2] Numbers 32:7
[3] Numbers 32:22
[4] The Danger of Suspicion, Matot-Masei 5763, 5773, 5786; by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks
[5] Yeshayahu Leibowitz quoted in S. Leyla Gurkan, Jews as a Chosen People, 168
[6] Honi HaMe’Aggel in Taanit 23, starting v. 15. I wish we could call on him today!