May 19th: Bemidbar
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
It is always interesting to me how we can be drawn into a story and recalibrate our thinking to fit with the characters’ values. We imagine ourselves as English aristocrats, as Mafia chieftains, as heroic spies, or as maverick fighter pilots. We enter these stories and imagine what we would do in their situations—accepting and adopting their rules and mores.
This happens all the time when I watch movies, but it really struck home recently as our national attention was drawn to two British royal dramas—the actual coronation of King Charles III and the dramatic imagination of Queen Charlotte (the Netflix prequel to Bridgerton). I suspect that we are not unique in having dual thoughts on the subject: (1) we would never want to live in those ways, but (2) if we did, we have some ideas on how best to proceed. We “enter” those worlds and imagine how we would work within their rules, expectations, and possibilities.
I have similar thoughts when I study this week’s Torah portion. After an extensive census of the Israelites and some genealogy of some prominent families, we read the instructions for packing up the Tabernacle’s holy furnishings and utensils. Remember, the Mishkan/Tent Temple is portable, and the Israelites carry it with them as they travel through the wilderness. The concern here involves the relative holiness of those who are allowed to touch or pack or carry the holy objects. The ancient priest-dominated sacrificial cult is exceedingly far from my experience as a Jew, and frankly it is something that does not appeal to me. Nonetheless, as I study the Torah, I find myself being drawn into its internal logic and taking on its proprieties.
Though the whole tribe of Levi is holy, Aaron and his sons are the holiest. As the Kohanim/ priests, only they are allowed to touch the holy objects—both for ritual and for packing up. As for carrying, this holy honor is assigned to other and less holy Levites. “When Aaron and his sons have finished covering the sacred objects and all the furnishings of the sacred objects at the breaking of camp, only then shall the Kohathites come and lift them, so that they do not come in contact with the sacred objects and die. These things in the Tent of Meeting shall be the porterage of the Kohathites.” (Numbers 4.15)
This is a strictly regimented caste system, with status and responsibility being based on lineage—and not on merit or religiosity. It is in marked distinction to other Bible stories that turn things upside down, with younger (and therefore “less important”) individuals proving themselves and becoming heroes. Look at Isaac instead of Ishmael, Jacob instead of Esau, and Joseph, David, and Solomon instead of their many older brothers. Whereas much of the Bible favors talent and faith over lineage, these Priestly passages stand firmly on ancestry-based power—and grate against our democratic and egalitarian sensibilities.
Perhaps this is why many of us sympathize with Korah when he presents egalitarian aims for his rebellion (about which we’ll read in June). He gathers disgruntled Israelites and confronts Moses with, “All the community are holy, all of them, and the Lord is in their midst. Why then do you raise yourselves above the Lord’s congregation?!” (Numbers 16.3)
Interestingly, Moses’ response is that Korah should be happy with his Levitical privilege. He is not a priest, but, as a Levite, he is higher than all the other Israelites. “Is it not enough for you that the God of Israel has set you apart from the community of Israel and given you access to Him, to perform the duties of the Lord’s Tabernacle and to minister to the community and serve them? Now that He has advanced you and all your fellow Levites with you, do you seek the priesthood too?!” (Numbers 16.8-10)
The Torah has God coming to Moses’ and the Aaronide hierarchy’s rescue, and this leads the Commentaries to explain (post hoc ergo propter hoc) that Korah’s rhetoric is dishonest—that he is evil and just using the appeal of egalitarianism to seize power and prestige for himself. Like our feelings for George Orwell’s Napoleon the Pig (“All animals are equal, but some are more equal than others.”), we rejoice in the downfall of the usurpers. Moses and Aaron and the true religion are maintained.
See, it happened again. Though I am very glad that my Judaism is post-Biblical/Rabbinic—that we do not have a hereditary priesthood ministering to God and barbequing animals on my behalf, I can very easily get drawn into the story and defend the very system I am glad is not mine. I find myself in need of a reality check.
The challenge for post-Biblical (post-Temple sacrificial cult) Jews has always been to apply filters to our ancient and sacred heritage. We read the stories and try to discern wisdom. We reflect upon our ancestral relationship with God and try to replicate something of the devotion and faith. We regard the cultural and cultic details with interest but with a learned distance, filtering out those things that are problematic and not spiritually necessary, and holding precious the principles and aspirations that are enduring and eternally helpful. The ancient Israelite religion is not ours, and I do not want to return to it. In Judaism, we have distilled those ancient religious sensibilities into something much better.
Among our tools are allegory and metaphor—with some passages requiring them more than others. When the Torah tells us to “love our neighbors as ourselves,” (Leviticus 19.18) or “not to murder” (Exodus 20.13), we can buy into the ancient text unequivocally. However, when we read about the ancient sacrificial cult and its strictly hierarchical priesthood—as well as other passages which command misogyny and intolerance, it is time to pull out the metaphors and mystical interpretations that allow us to appreciate rather than obey, to be informed by rather than to be instructed.
Part of our Jewish way involves looking to the past and revering both God and the continuing relationship our people have enjoyed with the Divine. We study and we reflect, but we also give thanks that Judaism has moved on, constructing a magnificent spiritual system where we encounter God not with animal sacrifices but with Torah, with prayer, and with deeds of lovingkindness.