Weekly Torah Reading (in Israel), Beha‘alotekha, June 11, 2022

The Good Old Days

 

In the book of Ecclesiastes, the author advises, “Don’t say, ‘How has it come about that things were better in earlier times than now?’ for you are not asking about this out of wisdom” (7:10). The word “wisdom” (hokhmah) in Ecclesiastes often means something like the search for truth (see Eccles 1:13, 2:3, etc.). What he’s saying here is that if you ask such a question, you’re really not looking for an answer, and certainly not calling for some detached, scientific inquiry. All you’re doing is complaining.

This verse comes to mind in contemplating this week’s Torah reading, and more generally the whole biblical book of Numbers. So many things go wrong! In this week’s reading alone, the people first complain about the manna (which elsewhere had been praised for its taste, Exod 16:31); then two men, Eldad and Medad, apparently cause a flap about Moses’ authority; after this come Miriam and Aaron, who challenge Moses’ standing as God’s prophet. In subsequent weekly readings come all sorts of other troubles: the spies who spread panic among the people; Korah’s rebellion; Moses and Aaron striking the rock, which resulted in their both dying before the entrance into the land of Canaan; the bronze serpent, the sin of Baal Peor, and more. All these things are packed back-to-back in what seems like an unending series of woes. What’s the point?

Normally, there is a point. Biblical narratives don’t usually seem to have been told just because they happened; usually, their retelling has an apparent purpose. Often, the past is recounted in order to explain the present: in the book of Genesis, stories of Israel’s meritorious ancestors help to explain their descendants’ special connection to God. The book of Exodus likewise explains this connection. Jacob’s sons went down to Egypt and increased greatly; then a wicked Pharaoh enslaved them until God set them free and brought them to Mount Sinai, where He adopted them as His special people.

All in all, this ought to have been a happy story, Israel’s march from slavery to freedom, and from the lowliest of peoples to God’s chosen favorite. And perhaps in some other retelling of Israel’s history, that is all that would have been said. But the Torah’s account is clearly determined to assert that even within this triumphal framework, things kept turning awry. This, it seems, is indeed the whole point—not only of this week’s reading, but of much of the book of Numbers.

When, in this week’s reading, some of the people complain to Moses about the manna they have to eat, they utter this telltale sentence: “We remember the fish we used to eat for free in Egypt, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic…” (Num 11:5). Ancient commentators pointed out the falsity of such a “memory.” The Egyptians wouldn’t even give the Israelites straw with which to make bricks. Did they ever give their slaves such delicacies? Truly, here is a case of what Ecclesiastes had in mind: “Don’t say, ‘How has it come about that things were better in earlier times than now?’ for you are not asking about this out of wisdom.”

Shabbat shalom!

 

Weekly Torah Reading (Outside Israel), Naso, June 11, 2022

 

Doing It the Hard Way

 

Last week’s Torah reading began with a detailed census of Israel’s tribes. But the Levites were not included in this census; they were treated separately afterwards. The Torah says that there were three main families (or “clans”) of Levites: the Gershonites, the Kohathites, and the Merarites. Each of these families was assigned specific duties with regard to the desert tabernacle (the mishkan). The Gershonites were charged with taking care of the lower coverings of the mishkan, the tent and its coverings, and much more. The Kohathites had charge of the ark, the table, the menorah, the altars, and so forth. The Merarites were given authority over the planks of the mishkan and its various appurtenances.

At this point, the average reader’s eyelids begin to droop—who cares about such details, especially since the mishkan is no more? But then, in this week’s reading, comes a very interesting point.

The three families’ duties were not exactly equal. The things entrusted to the Kohathites’ care were by far the holiest of all. The ark contained the Ten Commandments, written “by the finger of God” (Deut 9:10, 10:5)—what could be holier than that? The table, the menorah, and the altars were of similar holiness. In fact, these things were so sacred that the Kohathites themselves were not permitted to fetch them out of their places whenever the mishkan had to be taken down and moved to a new locale. Instead, the kohanim (that is, the priests descended from Aaron) first had to cover these sacred objects with special coverings. Only then could the Kohathites “come and lift them” (Num 4:15).

In this week’s portion, we are given one additional detail about the process of taking down the mishkan to transport it. Moses gave the Levites six wagons in which to put the various parts of the mishkan when it had to be moved. Since, as we have seen, there were three main families of Levites, each family ought to have gotten two wagons to transport the various parts of the mishkan that they had been assigned.

But that isn’t what happened. The Gershonites got two wagons, the Merarites got four, and the Kohathites, who were charged with transporting the holiest objects, got…none! “Let them carry [them, that is, the sacred objects] on their shoulders,” the Torah says (Num 7:9).

This seems completely counter-intuitive. If the objects assigned to the Kohathites were so sacred that they had to be covered by the kohanim lest even the Kohathites see them, how on earth were these objects now going to be carried by hand, “on the shoulders” of the Kohathites? After all, when the mishkan was moved, it was not to some place a few yards away: these were long-distance moves, as the Torah later enumerates. Would it not make sense to give the wagons first and foremost to the Kohathites, so as to make sure that nothing violated the objects’ sanctity?

And just think of those poor Kohathites trooping through the wilderness with the ark, the table, and the altars on their shoulders, mile after mile. Yet the Torah says, as if everyone would understand why, that “To the Kohathites he [Moses] did not give any wagons; since the job of [transporting] the holiest objects was entrusted to them, let them carry them on their shoulders.”

What apparently was easily understood in biblical times has largely been lost in our own. The things that are holiest must be accorded special treatment, whatever the cost in time and effort, precisely because they are the holiest. I can’t think of any other way of understanding this passage. Indeed, the Rabbis connected this phenomenon with a certain verse from the book of Proverbs (reading it quite out of context): “If you merely glance at it, it disappears” (Prov 23:5). That is the risk with whatever is holy, and why it demands our greatest respect: “Let them carry them on their shoulders.”

Shabbat shalom!