June 12th: Beha’alotecha
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
There is nothing wrong with emotions or emotional responses; they are a natural part of our humanity. However, emotions can cloud our logical faculties and result in decisions that are counterproductive. Perhaps this is what Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar was thinking when he cautioned (in Pirke Avot 4.18), “Do not try to appease your friend during his hour of anger; Nor comfort him at the hour while his dead still lies before him; Nor question him at the hour of his vow; Nor strive to see him in the hour of his disgrace.”
I do not believe Rabbi Shimon was saying that we should not be supportive of our friends and neighbors or take an active role in their lives. However, we should be aware that times of grief or other emotional intensity may not be the best times for philosophical and logical discussions. In my own work, I learned this through the experience of visiting families in grief. When someone asks through his/her tears, “Why?”—why the deceased had to die, I quickly learned that this was not an actual question about the disease process or the meaning of life, death, and suffering. No. It was/is an emotional statement expressing grief and exasperation. There may be a time in the future for philosophical thinking, but that moment is a time for care and support—for giving a physical or verbal hug.
In both this week’s Torah portion and the world, there is a lot of emotional intensity, and some of the things being said may prove to be counterproductive in the long run.
In the Torah portion, in Numbers 11 and 12, everyone seems to be “losing it.” The people get hysterical at the boredom of their diets—at the manna which God provides them everyday in plenty. They heap abuse at Moses who loses his temper and unloads on God. Joshua gets very proprietary about religiosity and tries to stop two Israelites, Eldad and Medad, from having personal religious experiences. Later, Miriam and Aaron get involved in petty domestic gossip and lose sight of their roles as agents of the Lord. It’s a mess, and, while the commentators explain why these human responses are wrong, I find myself seeing myself in these stories of human frailty. In times of stress, my thinking is not always as clear-headed as it should be.
We can start with the manna. “The manna was like coriander seed, and in color it was like bdellium. The people would go about and gather it, grind it between millstones or pound it in a mortar, boil it in a pot, and make it into cakes. It tasted like rich cream. When the dew fell on the camp at night, the manna would fall upon it.” (Numbers 11.7-9) It seems like a rather perfect situation—plenty of food for little work, but the lack of variety drives some of the Israelites crazy. I can understand their frustration, but it strikes me how we humans have the ability to take our blessings for granted—and to find dissatisfaction in the midst of plenty.
When Moses unloads his frustration on God, he disrespects the Israelite people. “Did I conceive all this people, did I birth them, that You should say to me, ‘Carry them in your bosom as a nurse carries an infant’”—all the way to the Promised Land?! (Numbers 11.12). Why is Moses taking on the responsibility for the people’s dissatisfaction? Why is he referring to them as children—and not as responsible adults who have the ability to manage difficulty and frustration on their own?
As for Joshua’s over-functioning, in Numbers 11.27, someone reports that two Israelites, Eldad and Medad, are “prophesying in the camp!” Joshua thinks that this is inappropriate—that intimacy with God is the preserve of Moses and Aaron and the priests, and he seeks to stop them. Moses, however, sees no problem at all. In fact, he seems to think that it is a good thing for individual Israelites to have religious experiences. “Are you wrought up on my account? Would that all the Lord’s people were prophets—that the Lord would put the Spirit upon them!” Perhaps Joshua is feeding off of Moses’ stress and forgetting that religiosity—a connection with God—is the purpose of the entire endeavor. He is focused on Moses and the stress and not on God’s Presence.
Finally, we have a nasty family squabble. “Miriam and Aaron spoke against Moses because of the Cushite woman he had married.” (Numbers 12.1) Whether this involves criticism of Zipporah or a possible second wife, the Torah does not give us much insight. Nor does it specify what the complaint is. It does, however, tell us that Miriam and Aaron take their intra-family concerns to the public arena, complaining about Moses’ leadership role. “Has the Lord spoken only through Moses? Has God not spoken through us as well?” God does not seem to get involved in the family process. What God sees, however, is the blurring of personal and public realms and how this is a gross misunderstanding of the prophetic process. Moses is not the key player here. God is! And, whoever God chooses is God’s business. (God is not managing this process based on focus groups—or on the opinion of the staff.)
In each of these less than admirable incidents, I think I can understand the emotional field. Something is bothersome or wrong and people get hot-headed. The problem is that their anger and frustration do not always lead to cogent thinking.
I find it interesting how advocates often recall for their audiences their emotional reactions to the wrong they want to right. It can be an effective means of persuasion. However, if they are too effective and put their audience in that same state of anger, bewilderment, or panic, then the thinking process is impeded. The people may respond, but the solution preferred may not be the best long-term solution. This is why I read Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar’s warning as both personal and societal advice. Emotional intensity is an important part of life. We need to mourn, to be angry, to celebrate, and to be overwhelmed with delight. However, we also need to settle down, calm the emotional field, and proceed with logic and reason—with an eye to the bigger picture and the long term.