June 7th: Bemidbar
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
The numbers part of the Book of Numbers—an ancient census—is fairly brief, while most of the book deals with our forty plus years wandering Bemidbar, in the desert. These stories are much less dramatic that Yetzi’at Mitzrayim/The Exodus from Egypt and Matan Torah/The Giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai, and yet they are in many ways more important. Whatever our incredible experiences with the Lord, and whatever lofty goals God instructs us to follow, Numbers is where we learn to live in holy community. We move from the idealized vision to the practical reality, and, as Shakespeare wrote, “There’s the rub.”
Among the challenges of living in community is the problem of other people’s differences. There are all kinds of human divergences and peculiarities, and much of our social cohesiveness or dissension depends on how we negotiate or adjudicate these differences. Are the differences just interesting, or are they disturbing? Do they involve dangerous behavior or just idiosyncrasy? Do they threaten the common good or are they just part of the variations of human experience?
There is also the question of power and authority. Are these differences relevant in re rights and responsibilities: are some differences legitimate impediments to full citizenship and participation?
When we moderns look at some of the opinions of our ancient forebears, we find ourselves in positions of serious disagreement. We believe that society should treat men and women as equals. We believe that different religions should be allowed freedom and that their believers should be allowed full access and participation in society. We believe that children are not property—that they have inherent rights and that our authority over them should be limited and gradually wane. As Khalil Gibran wrote, children “come through you but not from you…they are with you yet they belong not to you.” In fact, in a comment of mystical profundity, he explains that children—and therefore all of us—are “the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.” One way of looking at diversity is that it is Creation’s extraordinary adventure—a Divine yearning for manifestation in an amazing array of creativity and beauty.
Our problem—in learning to live communally—is coming to grips with the fact that humans are not all the same. How do we as a society deal with human diversity?
I say, “we as a society” because society has often felt compelled to take on responsibility for the common good—both defining propriety and enforcing it. While our libertarian inclinations may urge us to “live and let live,” ancient religious texts show a real concern for the danger individual decisions can bring to the entire community. Whether or not we believe that God in Heaven threatens Israel with group punishment for the idolatry or dishonesty or immorality of individual Israelites, the texts clearly represent both this fear and the concomitant need to regulate individual behavior. Our ancestors believed that, if a community “allows” some behaviors, then the community courts disaster.
Though many of us today are less concerned about God visiting punishments if we “allow” a variety of sexual and gender expressions, we might be much more receptive to the kind of Prophetic rants that threaten Heaven’s wrath on a society that allows economic or racial injustice—that “crushes My people and grinds the face of the poor.” (Isaiah 3.15) The principle, with which we might not disagree, is that leadership is charged with determining and managing communal standards—because deviation from these standards can bring calamity upon everyone.
The challenge over these many centuries has been to ascertain which behaviors or characteristics are problems and which are mere differences—examples of the incredible diversity of creation. While we can disagree with our ancestors’ thinking about which differences are dangerous, I hope that we can understand their fears. I also hope that we can appreciate the great enlightenment that has been dawning for the last few centuries. The strides in the acceptance and embrace of LGTBQ+ individuals have been part of a process in which all kinds of formerly oppressed or marginalized human beings have been gradually accorded full human status: Protestants, Catholics, “Mohammedans,” Jews, women, formerly enslaved Africans, people with disabilities, etc.
The notion of one group of humans “accepting” other human beings into full social membership sounds incredibly haughty. Who are these “accepters” to think that they have such power? And yet, they do. As society has developed over thousands of years, some people have power, and others hope for consideration or inclusion. Visionaries like George Washington—whose own vision was both profound and limited—sensed the absurdity of their gate-keeping authority—"It is now no more that toleration is spoken of, as if it was by the indulgence of one class of people, that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent natural rights,” but they possessed and exercised this power nonetheless. Though natural rights should be natural and automatic, the fact is that it has taken us many, many years to open our eyes and see the full humanity of some of our fellow creatures.
For many of us, living without full accord has been like wandering Bemidbar, in the desert or wilderness. Or, as one group of Jewish lesbians expressed it, they felt like a crust of stale bread on a Seder Plate—not belonging there. How blessed that light has dawned and that our LGBTQ+ friends and neighbors can be welcomed and embraced for the children of God they are. As our congregation and community celebrate Pride Week, let us remember the fears of our ancient past and appreciate the wisdom that has finally dawned—and how we are learning to distinguish between legitimate threats and the beauty of human diversity.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, מַתִּיר אֲסוּרִים
Blessed are You, O Lord our God, Ruler of All, for freeing the captive.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, זוֹקֵף כְּפוּפִים:
Blessed are You, O Lord our God, Ruler of All, for lifting up those who have been
kept down.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, שֶׁעָשַׂנּוּ כֻּלָּנוּ בְּצֶלֶם אֱלֹהִים:
Blessed are You, O Lord our God, Ruler of All, for creating us all in the Divine Image.