July 10th: Pinchas
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
Our Jewish sense of historical connection is extremely important: we feel ourselves to be the continuation of what Abraham and Sarah started some 4000 years ago. And yet, our faith today is not the same as theirs or our other ancient ancestors’. In fact, it is technically inaccurate to call the Bible’s religion “Judaism” at all. We started out not as “Jews,” but as “Ivrim / Hebrews.” Then after Abraham and Sarah’s grandson Jacob fathered twelve sons, we were known as “B’nai Yisra’el / The Sons of Israel.” As the sons’ families grew into tribes, we kept this name—often rendered in English as “Israelites.” Though we use words like “Hebrew,” “Israelite,” and “Jew” interchangeably, the words “Jew” and “Jewish” do not become historically accurate until after the Babylonian Exile (586 - 538 BCE). The predominant group to return from Babylonia was the tribe of Judah—who were called “Judeans,” in English translation, “Jews.”
We can also get technical about the word we use for our religion. “Judaism” really should refer to the post-Biblical religion that the Rabbis crafted from the Biblical religion. Over some 400 years (200 BCE - 225 CE), succeeding generations of scholars—called Pharisees, Tanna’im, and Rabbis—shaped the Bible’s religious teachings into the spiritual and ritual lifestyle that we know as “Judaism.” Though based on the Bible, Judaism is defined in the Talmud (Mishna and Gemara).
As I like to explain to non-Jewish visitors to the synagogue, neither Judaism nor Christianity are the religions of the Bible. Christianity is the religion of the Bible viewed through the lens of the New Testament. Judaism is the religion of the Bible viewed through the lens of the Talmud. Both religions identify certain elements of Biblical religion and interpret and adapt them into their own religious sensibilities, beliefs, and practices. We revere the Bible, and we trace our ancestral search for God to our forebears in Biblical days, but their ancient religion has grown and developed into the religious systems that express and nurture spirituality today.
To illustrate this developmental process, consider the holy day of Rosh Hashanah that is described in this week’s Torah portion: “In the seventh month, on the first day of the month, you shall observe a sacred occasion: you shall not work at your occupations. You shall observe it as a day when the shofar is sounded. You shall present a burnt offering of pleasing odor to the Lord: one bull of the herb, one ram, and seven yearling lambs, without blemish. The meal offering with them—choice flour with oil mixed in—shall be three-tenths of a measure for a bull, two-tenths for a ram, and one-tenth for each of the seven lambs. And there shall be one goat for a sin offering, to make expiation in your behalf—in addition to the burnt offering and the regular burnt offering with its meal offerings, each with its libations as prescribed, offerings of fire of pleasing odor to the Lord.” (Numbers 29.1-6)
Notice that the Holy Day is not called “Rosh Hashanah,” nor is there anything about the Book of Life, Unetaneh Tokef, or “Who shall live and who shall die.” There are no details about the shofar calls, or the “Avinu Malkaynu” prayer or the special High Holy Day tunes or additions to the regular prayers or even the Holy Day candle blessing. There is no mention of Tashlich (casting our sins into the water) or apples and honey. In other words, the observance that we call “Rosh Hashanah” has its roots in the Torah, but it has grown and developed over the centuries. And, as much as this is true for one holy day, it is true for Judaism in general. Our faith has grown and developed in a continuing quest to cultivate our relationship with the Divine.
But lest we think that this reforming tendency is strictly post-Biblical, consider another passage in this week’s Torah portion, the case of Zelophehad’s daughters. As the forty years of wandering in the desert draw to a close, it is time for Moses to divide the Promised Land into tribal territories and individual holdings. However, one of the Israelites, Zelophehad, has died before his assignment. If he had a son, then the son would get his share, but he has five daughters, and daughters do not inherit land. (The system assumed that women would live with their families of origin or their husbands or children.)
So, Zelophehad’s five daughters—Mahlah, No’ah, Hoglah, Milkah, and Tirtzah—approach Moses and make a claim: “Our father died in the wilderness...and has left no sons. Let not our father’s name be lost to his clan just because he had no son! Give us a holding among our father’s kinsmen.” (Numbers 27.1-4)
Moses realizes that the women have a point, but he does not feel able to accommodate them within the law. So, he brings their case before the Lord. The Lord agrees with the women and amends the rules, allowing Zelophehad’s daughters AND all daughters in a similar situation to inherit land. Even at this early point, the Tradition has begun to develop, and this progress continues today.
One could ask what this says about the nature of God—Whom many view to be perfect and unchanging from before the beginning to after the end. Many believe that the Torah—given around 1200 BCE—was/is/will be perfect as well. No changes are ever necessary—or allowed. However, this view does not take into account the changing situations in which humans find themselves, or the changes in humanity and our human sensibilities. Despite what our Orthodox co-religionists claim, the developmental process in the Bible, Talmud, and subsequent Jewish legal literature is obvious to anyone who carefully looks. This is the basis of the innovations of Reform, Conservative, and Reconstructionist Judaisms. God may not change, but humans do.
On the other hand, there is a modern view that sees God as changing and developing, too. Known as “Process Theology,” it suggests that, as “existence” proceeds, the Divine Force behind it—or encompassing it—grows from the experience and adapts, matures, and processes. If this is the case, then it only stands to reason that our understanding of the Divine and our techniques for living in relationship with the Divine would also process and progress. The seeds of the Torah sprout and blossom in our traditional and continuing partnership with God.