This week we are forced to confront what is oneof the most difficult and important stories of the wilderness narrative. Thatʼs afancy term for the years spent in the desert, wandering.

 Last week, the Israelite men had taken up withthe Midianite women, worshipping their idol, and having all sorts of crazy carnalrelations. This does not please HaShem and he sets a plague upon the people that kills tensof thousands. Moses is instructed by God and passes on the order to the leaders of thetribes to execute publicly those leading Israel to this abomination.

Pinchas, the grandson of Aaron and the son ofEleazar the high priest is present when the prince of one of the tribes walks through thecamp with a Midianite girl and they go into his tent together for obvious purposes.

Pinchas is enraged and, filled with zeal, takesup a spear and drives them both through killing them both. And immediately, the plague islifted.

This weeks reading begins with God seeming toreward Pinchas out of gratitude for his faithful service. He and his decendants will bepriests in Israelforever.

If there is a more dangerous precedent to befound in scripture, I do not know it. If there is a more troubling message, a clearer invitationto mayhem and bloody fanaticism, I can not think of it. If there is a morecomforting turn of events, I also am hard-pressed to come up with it.

 Here is the problem with this message. Terroristsuse their devotion as pretext for their butchery. Zealotry like that of Pinchas fueledthe Sicarii, the ancient cult of Jewish assassins, and helped fuel the bloody anddisastrous war against Rome.In our day, Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin was murdered by afellow Jew, a would-be Pinchas.

The fundamentalist mind is drawn to Pinchas andwhether they are Muslim, Jew or Christian, they are capable of great evil. Abiblical endorsement of the kind Pinchas receives is something that makes sense in contextof the Bible but taken from that context is bad news. The ancient rabbis werelargely disturbed by this for the same reasons, and they too, wrestled with thelegacy of Pinchas.

 Pinchas’ action put an end to the plague and bykilling one of his peers, a fellow leaderof the Israelites, he was sending a very strongmessage. He saved Israelfrom Godʼs wrath. 24,000 people had just died and chaos wasenveloping the camp. This is undeniable.

 The rabbis seem to give Pinchas a pass because hedid not think, or seek instruction. He saw this as a ‘ticking bomb’situation. Or theysay he was taken over by divine rage and was not acting for his sake, but literallywas an arm of God at that moment, proving how good he would be as a priest.

 But Pinchas is also a very special person--unlessyou find yourself the son of the acting High Priest, Nephew of Moses, surrounded by aplague stricken, fornicating, idol worshipping riot, you are best off taking a time out andletting the appropriate authorities handle things. Zealots, however, rarely embracerestraint, reflection, or due process. They are, above all, results-oriented people. Toa fault.

 They see us publicly desecrating the Sabbath.They see MTV. They know about Lady GaGa and they are outraged! With apologies to ourformer President, They may not hate us for our freedom, but they certainly hateus for how we use our freedom.

In 1996, when I was a student in Jerusalem, the then -chief Sephardi rabbigave a sermon on parashat Pinchas where he comparedreform Jews to the idolatrous, fornicating Zimri, the man Pinchas killed.

 That’s right. Twoyears after Rabin was assassinated, Eliyahu Bakshi Doron calledZimri the "firstReform Jew" and compared the murder to a doctor operating on a sick patient. The murderwas not "a matter of revenge, but this is about the salvation of thepeople of Israel, as when a doctoroperates and cuts out tumors” he suggested. It’s not the firsttime an orthodox rabbi has said something outrageous, and it wasn’t the last and it won’t be.Frankly there’s no love lost between our respective movements. It remains, we arefaced with is the seemingly incontravertable endorsement of extremist behavior bythe Torah. And to our day, the fundamentalist finds inspiration and in turn inspiresextremism.

 How should someone who believes in God, whohonors Torah respond to such public displays of disrespect? If this is the unerring,absolute word of God, how can we not act swiftly and fiercely?

 How can we tolerate seeing such flagrantviolation of God’s law?

 We would do well to respond as did Rav, one ofour greatest sages did. He explained that when Pinchas complained to Moses about whatwas happening, Moses responded “Since God pronounced the sentence, let Godexecute the sentence”.

If you believe so strongly that Godʼs feelingsare hurt by what we do, than first, you have a way overdeveloped sense of self-importance andsecond, God can handle His own business. Remember the Flood? The Tower of Babel? The Plagues? Yeah, God’s got it under control, thanks.

 It is not our role to fight God’s battles forHim. God is more than capable of defending His own honor. Our role is to bring honor to Godthrough our actions as best we can, and police our own behavior. 

Then, there is this: “Heshiv et Hamati”--he hasreturned my violence--. Hamat, a Hebrew word that you might recognize in the nameHamas. Itʼs the same word.

In his violent action, Pinchas turns Godʼs angeraround, forcing not only us but God Himself to confront the consequences of zealotry.Godʼs blessing of “serenity” to Pinchas might be interpreted as a sign that, likeus, God was made a little uncomfortable with the actions Pinchas took. Itwould be best if people didnʼt take the law into their own hands, after all, seems to bethe message.

The early rabbis did a great job of fleshing outthe Torah and explaining to us how seemingly black-and-white pronouncements can infact be given nuance and deeper meaning. That is why we say we have two Torahs:the written one, here, and the Oral Torah, the teachings passed down from generationto generation and that are collected in the Talmud, among other religious works. Werely on both sources to come to decisions about the best way to handle things “Jewishly”.

It’s still comforting to know that sometimes whenwe act out of passion that there are occasions when drastic immediate action must betaken. Pinchas is rewarded,rewarded with a blessing of ʻserenityʼ,of calmness, so that his passion should be tempered, if you’ll pardon the pun.

 Perhaps the secret lies in further exploring Godʼsreward to Pinchas. As a priest, he was somewhat removed from the people, taken outof the world where the profane is allowed to exist, where control is limited, whereone is exposed to reality. Pinchas, in other words, is not a good law enforcement agent,but as an analyst or administrator, heʼs tops. Heʼs just a little too reckless.

 Is Zealotry always wrong? No. But it isexceedingly dangerous. So the best prayer I can offer on the subject is that God should keepall situations far from us that wouldnecessitate such zealotry, and that our innerPinchas might slay only our inner Zimris, and that we have the courage and patience to letGod sort out his own business with our fellow human beings.

On Strange Things, Kept Things, and Local Things

One must encounter no small number of strange things as a prophet-for-hire. It surely leaves Balaam, the anti-hero of our story tonight, pretty jaded.  When his donkey starts talking to him, it doesn’t faze him at all.  In fact, when she asks Balaam why he keeps hitting her,Balaam responds that she’s lucky he doesn’t have a sword handy or he’d kill her.

It reminds me of the three-legged cow that could predict the weather.  If a tornado were going to come, it would stand facing south and moo.  If flash floods were immanent, it would stand facing west and moo.  Heavy Snow? East.   When asked what happened to the cow’s missing leg, the farmer replied, “A cow that smart, you don’t eat all at once.”

 So, like the farmer, if Balaam’s impressed with the talking donkey, he isn’t THAT impressed.  But we should be.  For it turns out, that donkey is indeed something very special. 

 In fact, that donkey, it is taught, was one of the very first things God created.  And it is the mommy donkey of the donkey that Abraham took with him when he brought Isaac to the mountaintop, the same donkey that Moses rode, and, as it goes, the donkey that the future King of Israel, the messiah, will ride.

 Taken in context, even within the story of Balaam, the donkey plays a small part, but she provides us the opportunity to talk about some very important things.

 Balaam’s donkey sees the Angel standing in the road, sword outstretched, when Balaam cannot.  Now, we might think that this makes the donkey unusual.

 Rashi explains it this way: God permitted a beast to perceive more than a man. Since he [man] possesses intelligence, he would become insane if he saw demons. 

 Angels and demons surround us, and without getting too far off-track, like the donkey did, we’d lose our minds if we saw these things.  Animals, with their simpler minds are able to assimilate the kind of things they see and we can’t. 

Now, before we dismiss this as sheer fiction, consider for a moment how true this statement of Rashi is.  Dogs can sniff out explosives.  They can smell a decomposing body through 40 feet of water or tons of rubble.  They can hear the faintest cry of people trapped in mines. 

 A dolphin can tell if a woman is pregnant...they are walking around--okay, swimming around--with literal sonogram machines in their heads. 

 If you could hear the underground clattering of insects or smell every squirrel, raccoon, deliveryman, gardener, and dog for hundreds of yards upwind, you’d go mad. 

 Thank God we don’t have the sensory capabilities of our animal friends. 

 And when the donkey starts talking? Balaam is either too wicked, too foolish or both to realize how miraculous that is.  The sages, who point out how detestable a figure Balaam is, say this demonstrates that the donkey and Balaam are equals--so of course she can speak to him.  He’s a native speaker of her language.  He’s a--donkey--just like her.   Actually I think that’s really unfair to donkeys.

 The donkey asks why Balaam is beating her.  I’d kill you if I could, he says.  The donkey asks if she’dever wronged him to that point. No, says Balaam.  God reveals the angel to Balaam, and the angel also asks Balaam what his major malfunction is.  If the donkey had continued on the road, the angel says, he’d have killed Balaam and spared the donkey.  Rather than be angry with the donkey, Balaam should be grateful beyond words to his faithful animal companion.

 Jewish tradition demands that we treat animals with respect and love. From the injunction to shoo a mother bird away from her nest before harvesting her eggs to the strict laws of kosher slaughter, we concern ourselves with the well being of animals.

 One who keeps animals must see that theyare fed before we eat.  Even on Shabbat, we are obligated to milk cows because not to do so would cause the cow to suffer, and on the Sabbath, even our animals deserve a break and must be allowed to take the day off. 

 Our willingness and our ability to care for animals directly relates to how we relate to our fellow human beings.  It is no accident that Abraham, Mosesand David were skilled and compassionate shepherds.  It is no accident that the matriarch Rebecca establishes her reputation by seeing not only to the needs of a stranger but to the needs of his camels as well.  It is no accident that one of the great villains of the Torah is depicted time and again beating his donkey. 

 Even in modern times, people who care for animals become a source of enduring blessing.  The Dead Sea scrolls were discovered in 1947 by a Bedouin shepherd who, according to the popular account, was trying to scare one of his goats out of a cave, lest it wander in too far and be lost.   When he threw a rock into the mouth of the cave, he heard the sound of pottery shattering. He investigated and found ancient parchment scrolls had been stored inside clay jars and hidden in the cave his goat was exploring. The rest is history.

 For most of us, our interaction with animals in our day comes in two forms. We keep animals as pets, and we eat them as food.  When we keep them as pets, we are obligated to provide them good medical care, to be kind to them and to see to their needs.  Most pet owners don’thave a problem here.  In fact,we’re probably over-indulgent.  The most difficult thing we have to face is the euthanization of a beloved animal.  We can take our best comfort in knowing that we make that decision under the obligation of Tzar Ba’alei Hayyim--being responsible for the suffering of living creatures.    Nothing makes it easy.  It’s among the hardest thing someone can go through.  But knowing we walk in the ways of an ancient people who were above all else, shepherds and keepers of animals makes it more tolerable.  We must speak for our animals, because unlike Balaam’sdonkey, ours can’t really speak to us in our language. We tell ourselves they tell us it’s okay.  They can’t, but they do trust us and love us and that is enough.  We convince ourselves that they understand.  But they don’t.  And that’s a gift that God has given them.  They see more than we do, smell and sense things we cannot perceive, and in exchange, we can understandand perceive things that they cannot conceive of.  That’s why we are able to work together so well.

 The second way in which we relate to animals is as food.  Now, I can easily start pushing vegetarianism.  It’s the original diet of the Garden of Eden, we know that.  Whether it is the best diet for us spiritually remains arguable, but between us, it’s kind of an uphill battle to say vegetarian living isn’t more responsible, more ethical and more considerate of the planet and the ecosystem.  But animal proteins like, you know, slow smoked beef brisket, Roasted Turkey and Braised Lamb Shanks are, well, awesome.  Plus, I tried going vegetarian and it was not pretty.  Wine and cheese are both vegetarian choices, and a great way to gain 15 pounds in a month.

The point isn’t eliminating animal products from your diet.  Of course, if you choose to, go right ahead, it’s a mitzvah.  But it isn’t a sin to eat meat.  It’s a sin to eat meat the way we do.  We have lost all connection, most of us, to the food we eat.  We pick up flank steak like it’s a bag of frozen peas.  We treat animal flesh as though it grows on trees--and that does bother me.  I do it too--all the time, though less than I used to. I still break down and eat fast food on occasion, but I feel more and more guilty every time.  And that’s good. I should feel guilty.  There is nothing, in any way shape or form about that kind of stuff that is in any way, shape or form, kosher. 

 Kashrut as older generations of Jews understood it doesn’t seem to have much pull on us. Yet, there’s a new movement about that emphasizes “justice”.  Choosing to buy and use cruelty free products.  Demanding animals be treated as living beings, not as vegetables that walk around and make noises.  Responsible fishing. Sustainable farming practices. We might want to think about how we can support this kind of approach to the food industry.   And no,buying “Kosher” meat doesn’t address this issue at all.  

 For starters, I’m going to try to buy asmuch local produce and products as possible.  Since I’m new in town I’ll need you all to show me where the local poultry farms and farmer’s markets are.  

I can find my own way to the oneg,thanks.  See you there. 

SNAKES ON A PLAIN: PARASHAT CHUKKAT, 5770

I remember it so clearly.  This was when my wife, Jennifer and I were first getting to know each other, falling in love.  It’s an amazing time in any relationship. There we were, driving around Canton, Ohio in the August evening, enjoying the company, each of us, of someone we surely knew even then would be a major part of our lives from that point on.  

It was then, at the height of our initial courtship that my future wife, and mother of our children turned to me and said these unforgettable words.

“You complain a LOT. You know that?”

Yeah, well, I come by it honestly.  I grew up in New York where kvetching is a cultural right.  You may know the old story:  two old Jews are eating lunch at at deli.  The first one says “The food here is terrible!”  and the second replies, ‘Yes--and such small portions!”.

Well, it should come as no surprise that the Israelites are complaining--again.  This time, they are particularly obnoxious.  Again and again, they complain.  The food is terrible--and such small portions!

Finally, God has heard enough.  And he sends fire-serpents to bite them.  Many Israelites die.  Lots of Israelites getting killed is nothing unusual for the book of Numbers.  But Fire-Serpents? When people talk about the Old Testament God, this is what they have in mind.

Naturally, the people come to Moses, beg for forgiveness and help, and God instructs Moses to make a copper snake statue and put it on a standard--a flagpole thingy.  

This Copper Serpent--Nachash Nechoshet--had amazing powers.  If you were bitten by a fire-serpent all you had to do was gaze upon the copper idol and you were cured. 

Wait a minute. Did I just say copper idol?  

What is Moses doing with a copper serpent?  And one with magical divine healing powers?  

At least one biblical commentator suggests the Israelites were not worshipping the copper serpent, but rather submitting and looking up to God for help.  Yeah. Right.  I’m sure. 

So here’s today’s mystery, friends.  How do we make sense of this story?  How can we justify Moses making a magic snake pole, aside from the explanation that God told him to do it.  Of course, it’s good enough to just say “God said so”.  But if we accepted that argument we wouldn’t be sitting here.  Well, the men would be sitting here.  The women would be sitting there. (Pointing to the balcony).

Certainly, God has the ability, right and power to make exceptions to any rule he gives us.  And absent any other explanation, that would suffice.  But there is another explanation that is, in my opinion, almost as cool as the fact that God sends fire-snakes to bite people who complain too much. And I’ll come back to that.

But first, I want you to consider this text from another part of the bible, that covers material that happens much later in time.  During the reign of king Hezekiah.

IIk18.3 [Hezekiah] did what was pleasing to the LORD, just as his father David had done. He abolished the shrines and smashed the pillars and cut down the sacred post. He also broke into pieces the bronze serpent that Moses had made, for until that time the Israelites had been offering sacrifices to it; it was called Nehushtan. He trusted only in the LORD the God of Israel; there was none like him among all the kings of Judah after him, nor among those before him. 

Aha! So the copper snake on a pole has a name!  Nehushtan.  And it turns out that the Israelites were offering sacrifices to it all that time, for hundreds of years! It became an item of worship.

Hezekiah is considered among the few good Kings the Jews ever had.  He is remembered for helping bring the Judeans back to the worship of God alone and for getting rid of idols and other forbidden practices that had crept into our society over the years. 

But the fact that it became an object of idolatry makes it that much harder to believe that God or Moses would support making such a thing in the first place.

And so I offer this explanation.   The story of Moses making the copper serpent may in fact be a much later story that was edited into the text of the Torah as a way of explaining how people came to worship the copper serpent.  

You see, archaeologists find figures of snakes all over the place.  We know from our own day that snakes are seen as a symbol of healing--think about the staff of Asclepius--the symbol of the American Medical Association.  A snake wrapped around a staff.  Sound familiar?

The Greeks, like the Egyptians, and the Canannites, and the Hebrews all saw snakes as symbols of healing.  They can shed their skin and be renewed!  Their venom can kill, but also has healing properties.  Even today, Antivenin is made from the venom itself.  

So, it makes sense that the ancient Jews would also see the snake as a powerful symbol.   The Nehushtan--the copper serpent seems to be a distinctly Jewish version of a common pagan practice.   The legend probably existed for a long time that Moses himself made the Snake at God’s command, which makes venerating it acceptable.  Along with complaining, we Jews are very, very good at justification. King Hezekiah does away with it. Good for him.

Why should this matter?  It matters because if, in fact, the story of the snakes and the statue and the magic were in fact edited in to the Torah along with other stories and events, it makes the text more relevant, more wonderous, more interesting.  For, on top of the obvious traditions and history it contains and the ethical and moral lessons it imparts, it provides unending challenges and puzzles.  What an amazing treasure we have!  The Torah of Moses contains more than we ever imagined, including hints at how earlier and yet still ancient generations of our people dealt with making Torah relevant and meaninful in their day.  The interpolation (fancy word) of the Nachash Nechoshet story as an origin of Nehushtan worship by Jews in the days of King Hezekiah is but one of many examples of this kind of internal midrash. 

This is a very difficult thing to understand, to be sure. and I would like to leave it at that for now.  And so we return to the simpler and perhaps more relevant question.  What is the moral of the story?

“How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is , says Shakespeare’s King Lear,
To have a thankless child!”

A reference, perhaps unintentional--to the plague of vipers that God sends to smite the Israelites when once again they turn ungrateful.

As though to demonstrate how painful it is for Moses and God to hear these complaints again and again.  As though the poison of the serpents that burned those they bit from the inside was a metaphor for the ingratitude poisoning the souls of those who could not appreciate the blessings they had.

What profound wisdom.  We so often take our blessings for granted.  We so rarely appreciate all we do have.  We are those Israelites.  

I recently came across a wonderful illustration of this and I’d like to share it with you. 

If you have food in your fridge, clothes on your back, a roof over your head and a place to sleep, you are richer than 75% of the world.  If you have money in the bank, your wallet and some spare change, you are among the top 8% of the world’s wealthy.  IF you woke up this morning with more health than illness, you are more blessed than the million people who will not survive this week. If you have never experienced the danger of battle, the agony of imprisonment or the horrible pangs of starvation, you are luckier than 500 million people alive and suffering.

And if you can pick up that prayerbook and understand it at all,  you are more fortunate than 3 billion people in the world who cannot read.  

So let us be grateful, indeed.  Shabbat Shalom.