Moshe’s Humility Emerges in Multiple Ways

 Parshat B'haalotkha 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

There are two times in our Parsha when Moshe Rabbenu’s authority is, in a way, directly challenged, specifically in the realm of prophesy. In both cases, what emerges more than anything is his humility. 

In the first, in the context of selecting the 70 elders, Eldad and Meidad emerge as two individuals with prophetic abilities, seemingly beyond that which the elders are gifted. 

Two notable distinctions – The Talmud (Sanhedrin 17a) tells us that unlike the other elders, whose prophetic careers ended soon after, Eldad’s and Meidad’s careers as prophets continued past this episode. The Medrash Tanchuma (22) notes four differences between Eldad and Meidad and the elders, the first being that the elders could only prophesy about the coming day, while Eldad and Meidad prophesied about what would take place in 40 years. 

It is a hallmark of Moshe’s humility that, as the Daat Mikra chumash explains it, he is welcoming of any higher stature any Israelite might achieve. He is so happy for Eldad and Meidad that they too are prophets. 

In the second case, Miriam engages her brother Aharon in a conversation that has two discussion points about Moshe. The first point addresses that Moshe had taken a Cushite woman as a wife, while the second point is a little more vague in the text in that Miriam asks two simple questions, “Is it to Moshe exclusively that God speaks? Doesn't He also speak to us?” 

What Miriam is referring to in both points are subject to debate. Does Moshe have a Cushite wife? Did Moshe once have a Cushite wife? Is the wife to which Miriam refers known better to us as Tziporah, the Midianite daughter of Yisro? If yes, then why is she called Cushite? On the second point – why does Miriam use the discussion of Moshe’s mate as an opening to discussing what makes him different as a prophet? 

Some suggest Miriam was looking at Moshe’s marital foibles, noting that Moshe was now living alone and therefore celibate when that behavior was not required of a prophet! (Midrash, Rashi). Others suggest that she wasn’t connecting the two complaints specifically, but asking about how Moshe could live with airs that make him above the law – taking whatever wife, lording his prophesying and therefore his status over others (Rashbam). 

To this last claim, the Torah’s immediate response is that while “God heard [this conversation] Moshe, however, was very humble, more so than any man on the face of the earth.” 

Surely Moshe’s response in both tales – being happy for Eldad and Meidad and not being even slightly hurt by their prophesying, and taking no initiative to respond to Miriam’s accusations – even while her words may have been hurtful and defamatory – demonstrate that he is way above pettiness. 

He is able to leave room for others to achieve greatness and doesn’t view anyone as a threat, and he knows who he is, and who his siblings are, and feels no ill will towards whatever they might say. 

What strikes me is the context in which Moshe’s humility is told to us – right after the comments made by Miriam about him. I am also struck by the connection made in the Midrash that Miriam heard Tzipporah speak aloud regarding Eldad and Meidad, "Praised are their sons but woe is to their wives because they will never see their husbands again. They will leave their wives just as my husband left me." The Midrash connects that statement to Miriam’s words, suggesting what she heard led her to speak to Aharon. 

But I like to think that the more blatant connection between the two tales is simply Moshe’s reaction to both. No reaction. Or a passive reaction. Or a happy reaction! And that is why his humility is emphasized in this context. 

Ramban notes that the phrase “and God heard” introduces the statement regarding Moshe’s humility because “Hashem was jealous for him on account of his humility. He would never respond to any provocation, even if he knew about it.” Ramban quotes the Sifrei who suggests Moshe knew about their conversation because they had it in his presence, but he controlled himself and did not respond – this is why God intervened on his behalf. 

What Miriam was specifically referring to doesn’t matter. And while I don’t like to suggest it was a trivial matter (because I prefer to think Miriam is not being petty), the fact is that Miriam may have been discussing with Aharon what the word on the street was. To her credit she spoke only to her brother, keeping the shmutz within the family, and presumable doing so because she felt that the best way to protect Moshe would be to try to address this issue internally. 

Rabbi Pinchas HaLevi Horowitz has a different insight, however, which also demonstrates why Moshe’s humility needed to be told to us in the context of his siblings’ conversation. 

Yehoshua had said regarding Eldad and Meldad “Adoni Moshe k’la’em” – my Master Moshe, Stop them/Imprison them/Destroy them (depending on how כלאם is translated). Miriam refers to her brother as Moshe. No superlative, no title. Just Moshe. 

Rabbi Horowitz notes that it is that lack of awareness of who her brother had become – which is often times very difficult for a sibling to discern! – that prevented her from speaking of her brother a. more respectfully, and b. more cautiously. 

Therefore, perhaps it can be suggested, that within the context of those least likely to see someone’s greatness, or in this case his hands-down-humility, that is where it needs to be emphasized. God said to them “How can you not be afraid to speak against My servant Moshe?” Rabbi Horowitz’s suggestion would be to add “You had no qualms about not even noting his greatness, his position, his title when you spoke of him.” 

From Moshe we learn to be happy for others’ successes. To not care about what others say about you – especially if your behavior is positively sanctioned by the Almighty.

From Miriam we learn to see people not as we think we know them, but as they are. To not rush to judge, to not reach conclusions without having done homework and due diligence, and to never put someone in a box because we believe we are familiar with the situation. Especially when it comes to family members, who we believe we know best, we must remember that they too are protected from our speaking Lashon Hora about them, and we ought to do what we can to address grievances and settle differences in a manner which is productive without falling prey to the trap that is Lashon Hora – even if we are merely keeping it within the family. 

“Remember what God did to Miriam, on the road, as you left Egypt.”

Who is IN and Who is OUT of the Camp of Israel

 Parshat Naso 

"When Should We Discriminate Against our Fellow Jews"

by Rabbi Avi Billet

In a short turn away from the narrative of the book of Bamidbar, we are given four sets of laws – that of those who are sent out of the camp, the rules of the Asham (guilt) offering, the rules of Sotah, and the rules of Nazir. 

 Perhaps what all of these have in common is that in the context of setting the Israelites up for travel, which is the general subject of Bamidbar chapters 1-4, a few ground-rules of travel need to be put in place, such as: where may people go, who is not allowed to enter certain spaces; what makes a person lose elements of taharah (purity) and elements of kedusha (holiness); what breaks up a marriage or – more positively – how can we preserve marriages when we are under duress of travel, general uncertainty, while living (figuratively) on top of each other without each family having a permanent home structure; and how can a person raise one’s level of holiness, including the drawbacks of a certain pursuit of asceticism. 

 The Midrash, and in its footsteps many commentaries, notes how the three types of people sent out of the camp is not meant to equate the three types of people, nor is their exclusion from the camp meant to be equal. The three types of people are the Metzora (one afflicted with tzara’as), the Zav (which includes a Zavah), and the person who has come in contact with a corpse. 

 Objectively speaking, these three have one thing in common – tumah (a spiritual impurity) – but otherwise have very little in common. The Metzora sinned, the Zav and Zavah may have sinned (though that is no one’s business because their tumah is a private consequence) but generally had an uncontrolled body emission, and the person who came in contact with a corpse was likely involved in a mitzvah! – whether of visiting someone who was sick and then passed away during the visit, or being involved in preparing the dead for burial or the actual burial itself. 

 This is why the Midrash and commentaries who address this indicate that the latter category (tameh la’met – having touched a corpse) is only prohibited from entering the Mishkan, but may even enter the Levite camp; the middle group (Zav etc.) may remain in the regular camp of Israel (may live at home, wander about the general population); the Metzora must be sent out of the camp, as per the instructions we have in Parshot Tazria and Metzora. 

 One could certainly look at the Metzora and claim that the person has a contagious disease and therefore it is actually important to send the person out of the camp. That claim is possible – tzara’as is a disease that appears in different contexts in the Bible, and in some cases it was a contagious disease. However, from the Torah’s perspective, leaving aside the tales in the books of Prophets of unique cases of tzara’as, the affliction is a spiritual disease with a physical manifestation. A sin (or bad behavior) caused it, and teshuvah (repentance) would cause it to go away. 

 What sins could cause this? The Midrash in Vayikra Rabba (16:1) and Mishlei (6:16) indicate that there are up to 13 behaviors or sins that could bring about tzara’as. This is based on the verse in Mishlei that says “There are six things that Hashem hates, and seven are an abomination of His soul.” There is a debate as to whether the number “Seven” in that verse means a seventh item, or seven additional items! If the latter, as the Midrash in Vayikra Rabba argues, there are 6+7=13 behaviors that God truly detests! 

 The verse in Mishlei goes on to list some of these: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that thinks violent thoughts, feet that hasten to run to evil, one who speaks lies with false testimony, causing quarrels among brothers. Ralba’g counts these as seven, suggesting that the first item is arrogance/haughtiness/looking down upon one’s fellow Jew – and that is the item God hates most of all. 

 The Midrash Mishlei goes on to list other sins a person might commit: idolatry, sexual immorality, murder, lashon hora, flattery, saying things without properly attributing them. [This last one is the topic of a much bigger discussion.] (The Gemara in Arakhin 16a has a list of seven sins which cause tzara’as: lashon hora (slander and gossip), murder, swearing in vain, immorality, haughtiness, theft, and stinginess. Obviously there is a crossover between the two lists presented by our Midrash Mishlei and the Talmud.)

 Using phrases from Yeshayahu chapter 3, the Midrash in Vayikra goes into painstaking details of what each of the first two sins listed in the verse in Mishlei have to do with reality, before giving other examples for the other sins. Suffice it to say, when one reads through the actual behaviors associated with haughty eyes, lying tongues, etc (two paragraphs up) one sees how all of these sins lead to a breakdown in society in which people, who are meant to live together in harmony, aim to get the upper hand on someone else, in order to control them. 

 This is why those guilty of sins to be punished with tzara’as are the ones who need to be sent out of the community until they’ve changed their ways. 

 But the other people – Zav and Tameh L’met – are not limited by their own behaviors. They are limited by the absence of taharah (purity), which is relatively easily rectified through a formal process of a brief wait and immersion in a mikveh. And even within their limitation, it is only in the realm of how far they may go into the realm of Kedushah – the holiness of the Levitical camp or into the Mishkan itself – which was their degree of confinement. If there were a synagogue or gathering place for prayer in the regular Israelite camp, they’d be welcome. 

In the general Jewish community, the structure of the institution we call “shul” or “synagogue” was put under duress over the last 15 months. Most shuls were closed through Pesach 2020, and there are many degrees of return to operations that have come about since that time – across all spectrums of Orthodox Judaism. Some opened completely back in April or May 2020, some remained closed even until recently, while others had a gradual process of starting outdoors, moving indoors, following recommended protocols of social distancing and masks. 

I often marvel over how the IDF actually analyzed their successes, but more importantly their failures after the Yom Kippur War. It is OK to say “We have made mistakes, but we want to learn from them.” I have yet to talk to a rabbinical colleague who isn’t challenged by “how to get our congregants back to shul.” Much of the challenges many Jewish communities are facing came from making their own short-term decisions that either turned people away or caused people to create their own alternatives, many of which will likely continue for the forseeable future. In many cases longer-term outcomes were not considered at all. 

 So what is the solution? Certainly making shul attractive and an exciting place to be through creative programming and educational opportunities is a start. But it also means putting no limitations on people and trusting people, including children. There is no precedent in halakha anywhere for assuming that healthy people are sick, or for excluding any “asymptomatic” person from any aspect of Jewish life. 

 Were we to follow the actual rules of the Torah regarding who is not even allowed entry into the community institutions, who is not welcome because the person needs to sit in isolation, the Torah couldn’t express it more clearly than in this Parsha. Only the people who would have gotten tzara’as need a cooling off period of teshuvah and reflection before rejoining the tzibbur. 

No one likes to look in the mirror. Were we to do so, many of our shuls would likely be empty this Shabbos and every Shabbos. But looking in the mirror also means asking, “Do I want one set of rules for me and another set of rules for someone else that are not based in the Torah?” As long as the answer is Yes, we are not where we need to be.

Halevai the Jewish community can get there through embracing every Jew and treating everyone equally, by no criteria other than the ones Torah and halakha truly advocate. Only when that sense of order is in place will we be worthy, as the Israelites were prior to the sins in next week’s parsha, to march to the Promised Land.

That They Shall Live and Not Die

Parshat Bamidbar 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

(Raising many more question than are answered...)

 The job of the Bnei K’hat (the Levite family descended from Kehat) was to carry the vessels of the Mishkan when it was time to pack up and travel to the next destination in wilderness travels. The Kohen branch of the family – Aharon and his sons - would cover the vessels in order to protect their cousins, the Kehat-family Levites. “Do not cause the Kehothites to become extinct among the Levites. This is what you must do so that they survive, and not die when they come into the Holy of Holies. Aaron and his sons shall first come and arrange each thing so that every [Kehothite] can perform his service, carrying his load. They will not come and see the sacred [furniture] being packed and they will not die.” (4:18-20) 

Targum Yonatan translates verse 19 “This is a decree which is made for them so they should live their lives of righteousness and not die in the fire of destruction. They should turn their eyes from the Holy of Holies at the time they come close to there; Aharon and his sons will come, they’ll be appointed, each man for his particular job.” 

It is clear from this statement about Aharon’s two sons that the tragic outcome that befell their brothers, Nadav and Avihu, hangs very heavily over their existence. In the beginning of chapter 3 of our parsha, Nadav and Avihu are remembered as Aharon’s sons, who died bringing a strange fire before God, and who also did not have sons. Recalling them in that way seems rather redundant as their deaths – having taken place around a month before the events of our parsha – would seem to be rather etched in the memory of the people! 

And what does Targum Yonatan mean when he says “they should live their lives of righteousness?” Is he implying that Nadav and Avihu did not live lives of righteousness? Or is he perhaps implying that Nadav and Avihu did live lives of righteousness, but they also died in a fire of destruction for other reasons? It seems that an ingredient for the survival of Elazar and Itamar is to avert eyes from the Holy of Holies, something Nadav and Avihu presumably did not do when they brought their strange fire into the Holy of Holies. 

Oddly, Or HaChaim’s comment on the words “and they shall live and not die” (verse 19) is that “when they engage with the Ark, which contains the Torah which is the source of life, they will have lengthened days (usually referred to as “long life”), and yet over the concern for the damage which can come from touching and looking at [the Ark], He said ‘and they shall not die.’” 

Which is it? Is it the source of life or is it dangerous? For King David, for example, מה אהבתי תורתך כל היום היא שיחתי – “how much do I love Your Torah. It is my conversation all day long.” (Tehillim 119:97) For Uzzah, “and Uzzah put forth [his hand] to the ark of God, and grasped hold of it, for the oxen swayed it. And the anger of the Lord was kindled against Uzzah; and God struck him down there for his error; and there he died by the ark of God.” (Shmuel II 6:6-7) We say in davening regarding the Torah and Mitzvos כי הם חיינו וארך ימינו – they are our lives and [the source of] our lengthened days. 

That’s how so many things in life are. The swimming pool is great for exercise or for rehab, but it can be a dangerous place for the person (or child רחמנא לצלן) who falls in not knowing how to swim. A food which is healthy for one person can be a source of anaphylaxis to someone with an allergy. A medication that works for one person can be dangerous to another. Many thousands of people are killed in motor vehicle accidents each year, while many are never in a car accident in their entire lives! 

As we watch what is going on in Israel, and as we pray for the soldiers, the people and for the country, we can also note that some soldiers see much combat and are never injured, while some get injured, and some lose their lives in the battlefield. 

The trauma of losing Nadav and Avihu was so great, added to the trauma that Elazar and Itamar were also supposed to die had it not been for Moshe’s prayers (see Rashi on Vayikra 10:12), that the Torah goes to great lengths and great pains to make us be sure that whatever errors took place would not be repeated, and that life could be preserved in the best way possible. 

But what were the errors? We are learning here from Targum Yonatan that Elazar and Itamar were righteous! There are plenty of discussions surrounding Nadav and Avihu which indicate they too were righteous, and that perhaps their death was not as much a punishment as much as a fait accompli, part of God’s Master Plan. Abrabanel says about Uzzah that he was a tzaddik (very righteous!) and that his death is associated “with the Ark of God” because he was elevated through his death, since his action in preventing the Ark from falling was an “accidental” affront. [That story needs much more attention than this space allows] 

This is not to suggest that death is something that we like. When a loved one or a friend passes away we miss the person terribly. Had we had the opportunity, knowing what we know, every one of us would have tried to stop Nadav and Avihu from bringing that strange fire. Would they have died anyway? We don’t know. Certainly we would have told the Bnei Kehat that their patience in waiting for Aharon’s family to cover the Mishkan vessels was worth every minute – because we understand that we certainly want to do what we can to assure their doing their job properly without incident. If we had been present, we’d have told Uzzah to stay back. The concern of the Ark falling is a role designated only for the Levites and Kohanim. 

Which all leads us to the question of the hour – how are we to understand that the Torah, known as the עץ חיים היא למחזיקים בה (It is a tree of life for those who grasp it) (Mishlei 3:18), a source of life, can even have such a contradictory notion that it can be a source of death? 

Like everything, it depends on how it is used. It depends on how people take its instruction! Do people create a life of extremes or a life of moderation? Do people view themselves as holier than thou and become judgmental and intolerant or do they take the lessons from Torah and live lives of humility? Do people coast with the knowledge they have or are they growing in Torah? 

There are several interpretations of what that tree in that verse is, and how we are to understand that it is a tree of life for those who grasp hold, which implies that it is not so for those who let go. 

This is not to suggest what causes people to live or die. In many ways that is in God’s hands, though humans can certainly (and tragically) be the source of much suffering and death in the world. 

Suffice it to say, the life of the עץ חיים is a spiritual life, held onto most strongly, and filled with the most meaning by those who cling to the Torah. As we read through the last chapter of Avos this Shabbos, and as we embark on the holiday of Shavuos, let us be reminded that the life of Torah that we live has its rewards, in some ways, in our lives in this world, but are even moreso invested in what the life of the next world has in store for us. This is a theme that comes up throughout Pirkei Avos, and is one of the more reasonable explanations for what suffering in this world is about. We are on a path to cleansing ourselves, readying ourselves for the world to come. Some of us are gifted a much longer journey through this world, and for some people the time here is far too short. 

In some way, for everyone, it fits into God’s Master Plan. May we be blessed to navigate the trauma of our losses with the clarity that those who are gone are in the next stage of their soul’s journey. Our job is to keep their legacy here alive. But our job is also to understand that when their job on this world is over, their souls have finally been given the chance to reach the place they were aiming for throughout their lifetimes. And that should be a tremendous source of comfort.

Where Do We Go From Despair?

Parshat B'har B'chukosai 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Many of us are connected directly or are one or two steps removed from someone who was at Meron on Lag B’omer this year. The feeling remains surreal – as all those who died have now been buried. Some of the shivas are over, some will finish on Sunday or Monday. So many lives impacted, there are so many people who will now observe what is supposed to be a joyous day on our calendar as a yarzeit of their loved one. 

On Monday I tuned into the livestream of the funeral of Donny Morris, A”H, not just because his father Aryeh and I were friends in college, but because like the over 30,000 people who were logged in online, and the thousands who were present in Israel, we needed a space to participate in the mourning with Klal Yisrael. While I don’t know of other livestreams from funerals, and while there may have been others, the Chassidic circles of most of the deceased would likely indicate that livestreaming wasn’t foremost on the mind. 

Of course the loss of this young man was felt by all. His chen, his smile, his chesed for others was so apparent. His growth in learning Torah was the apple of the eyes of his parents and teachers. His shortened life is a paradigm of what was lost that day in the other sons, brothers, fathers, grandfathers as well. So much greatness, and so much potential for greatness. 

One of the more challenging portions of the Torah is the Tokhacha – the Great Rebuke. The one in chapter 26 is only outshined by the one in Devarim 28 in its length and depictions of destruction and desolation, and there are a number of other smaller rebukes throughout the Torah, such as the one in the second paragraph of Shema (Devarim 11), when we are told what the negative consequences of our poor choices and idolatry will lead to. 

God attributes the consequences He will divine onto the nation of Israel as coming from a number of particular deeds. (All of the following quotes are from Artscroll’s translation) “If you consider my decrees loathsome, and if your being rejects my ordinances, so as not to perform all My commandments, so that you annul My covenant…” the punishments will come. “If you behave casually with Me and refuse to heed Me…” (this refrain is repeated several times) “I will destroy your lofty buildings and decimate your sun-idols, I will cast your carcasses upon the carcasses of your idols…” “Then the land will be appeased for its sabbaticals during all the years of its desolation” 

Not being enamored by mitzvoth, walking casually (בקרי) with God, idolatry, ignoring the opening mitzvah emphasized in B’har – Shmittah (Sabbatical year)… all of these are the causes behind things turning south, and the devastation which follows in its wake. 

But what does it mean? Is there really such direct causality in the world? Was God warning us of what makes us deserving of goodness vs what makes us deserving of punishment? Are there do-overs and mulligans? What about teshuvah? 

There are enough indicators in the text of the tokhacha that some of this comes after repeating warnings, years of turning away, many reminders to take heed, all of which went for naught. 

Towards the end of the tokhacha, however, the text takes a turn for the better noting that with learning the lesson will come a sort of redemption. Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch describes how if the people will embrace their גלות (exile), “instead of it becoming a grave of decay, exile will become ground for new fulfillment of Israel’s God-ordained mission, fruitful soil for a גלות-life directed toward God and bound up with Him, a new life whose content and meaning is: ירצו את עונם.” (it will satisfy the debt of their iniquity) 

Our question will then have to be, OK, but at what cost? 

And, upon further introspection, our question will be “are we paying attention, or are we still doing all that?” 

While this past year was not a Shmittah year, in many ways we took off from aspects of communal Jewish life. As we get closer to the one year anniversary of when our shul reopened, we ought to ask ourselves if we’ve learned the lessons we are meant to take from the tokhacha rebuke and have we taken the steps necessary to avoid its consequences. 

In no particular order: do we take our davening more seriously? Do we engage in idle conversations while Tefillah is going on? Do we still say Lashon Hora, seeking it out, loving the gossip, enjoying sharing the shmutz we have on other people? Do we value the Torah and her teachings? Do we believe that the instructions given to us – both to fulfill mitzvoth and to avoid negative behaviors – truly drive the direction our lives take? Do we worship the forms of idolatry that exist today? This is not to suggest anyone is bowing to sticks and stones, BUT when we say we believe in something that is not simply a vote of confidence in another human being, or if we listen to everything people on television tell us to do, we are worshipping a form of idolatry. 

The idea of Shmittah, the Sabbatical year for the earth, was meant to give the earth a chance to reboot its own batteries, to allow the microbiome, as it were, to have a rebirth so it can produce in the same manner it did at the height of its strength. 

We need to reboot our own batteries. We need to remind ourselves that we are people who are baalei chesed, who open our homes to guests and the needy, who support one another without strings attached, who value Torah study and growing as a Jew, no matter our age, who want to aim higher and higher in our relationship with the Almighty and who do not want to coast to the finish line. 

While every one of us would love to be able to turn back the clock on last week’s tragedy to have all those 45 holy souls be given the chance to live full lives, and while I do not diminish in any way the tragic nature of how their lives ended, there is a small side of me that says “What were they doing in their final moments? They were gathered, with thousands upon thousands of אחינו כל בית ישראל, not caring about what kippah you were wearing, what community you are part of, which yeshiva you attend… They sang Ani Maamin together, I believe with a complete faith that Moshiach will come… and then hell broke loose. In a way they experienced the death of the great martyrs who died al Kiddush Hashem – declaring God’s Oneness, unified with true Ahavas Yisrael, just as they experienced their last breaths.” 

 It may not be a comforting thought for a lot of us. As noted above, I am sure we would like nothing better than for there to have been no tragedy. But when we think of Rabbi Akiva, for example, and Rabbi Chanina ben Teradyon, for example, their last lesson to us was that it doesn’t matter as much that you die as much as it matters how you die. What did you live for? How did you display it in your final moments of cognition? 

Our goal, not just in avoiding tokhacha for us and for all of our Jewish brothers and sisters, is to heed the lessons we are to take from tragedies, that those who died should not have died in vain. 

They valued Ahavas Yisrael. We must cherish our fellow Jewish brothers and sisters. 

They gathered to celebrate life. We must celebrate life. 

They declared their belief in God and in Moshiach. So must we. 

They were dancing to celebrate a life directed and guided by the Torah. So must we dance with joy over our lives and dedicate our fulfillments of mitzvos and the Torah to their holy Neshamas.