Parshat Naso & the Census of the Merarites

Photo: Ariel J Friedlander

Struck by a thought this morning as L & I looked at the Torah portion. Earlier, with our chavurah, we'd looked at the juicy section containing the Priestly Benediction (Numbers 6:22-27). We had a lovely discussion about the meaning of blessings - who gives them, what is being given, and what they represent. Afterwards, L & I went back to the beginning of the portion and read:

29. As for the Merarites, you shall record them by the clans of their ancestral house; 

30. you shall record them from the age of thirty years up to the age of fifty, all who are subject to service in the performance of the duties for the Tent of Meeting. 

31. These are their porterage tasks in connection with their various duties for the Tent of Meeting: the planks, the bars, the posts, and the sockets of the Tabernacle;

32. the posts around the enclosure and their sockets, pegs, and cords - all these furnishings and their service:  you shall list by name the objects that are their porterage tasks. (Num. 4)

I said that I'd always had a problem with pieces like this - what possible connection did I have with a list of priestly duties for the Tabernacle? There are no more priests. There is no more Temple. What meaning could there be for someone like me in a sentence discussing who carries planks or posts or  pegs? In the desert?

Then I said, well, I suppose I can understand a system where everyone has a particular role in the community - something specific and personal, but that also is part of the community ethos. In this text it is expressed through a description of priestly duties. Maybe I can extrapolate from that the concept that this is still part of our lives and community today, i.e., we all have a task to perform. The difference is only that the task is not so clearly delineated. I just need to figure out what my task is.

And BOOM! Something I almost threw away turns out to be relevant after all. Ok, off to my room to see if there are any pegs I've not noticed :-) 

Shabbat shalom.

(I'm Late, I'm Late, for a Very Important Torah Portion) Shmita

Photo: Ariel J Friedlander

This week's Torah portion, no, stay for a moment, do, is Behar-Bechukotai (Leviticus 25:1 - 27:34).  (NB things happened, and I didn't post this in time, but am still putting it up to help me remember)

Sometimes it is a challenge to find contemporary relevance in the ancient text. This morning, we read about letting one's fields lie fallow every seventh year. This practice is commonly known as Shmita. I am a person of the city, as members of my family have been for generations. We have read about ploughshares and pruning hooks (Isaiah 2:4), but probably couldn't recognise one and certainly wouldn't know how to use them. At first glance, my contemporary experience makes Shmita seem rather esoteric.

It is also taught that the mitzvah/commandment of Shmita is traditionally an obligation for Jews living in the land of Israel. Of course there's no reason why, just because one is not obligated to do something, that one cannot choose to do it. Not obligated does not mean forbidden. And there's also no reason why, just because one isn't a farmer, one cannot find a way to give the Earth a bit of a rest.

Perhaps, living out of touch with the seasons and cycles of the land in which we live, we don't realise just how much damage we have already done, and how it is escalating. Our planet needs relief from our constant and devastating demands. The next Shmita period begins on Rosh Hashanah of next year (2021), so we have some time to plan. In 2014-15,  I remember that L's teacher, Rabbi Debbie Young-Somers, decided to try and live, along with her family, for the whole year of Shmita without buying anything new, e.g, furniture, kitchen items, clothing, etc. She felt strongly that, "the continual purchasing many of us practice now, easily becomes mindless and is hugely damaging to the earth." (Jewish News 02.02.19) It's not an easy way to live, because it asks us to let go of our need for instant and spontaneous gratification. Not forever, but long enough to give the Earth a break. Maybe we should consider doing it in some form or other.

If you're not sure if it's worth it, now we are beginning to be allowed outside again, just look at the difference after only a few weeks. The sky is clear, the air is fresh, the rivers are clean ... the pandemic that has ravaged the human community, and kept us from much of the behaviour that regularly poisons the natural world, has allowed the Earth to begin to heal. I fear we shall soon forget this blessing, but hope that we might be inspired to find ways to help it to continue. Learning more about Shmita may be a way to go.

Here's a link to Hazon & the Shmita project if you'd like to read more about it.

Meanwhile, I just want to note how incredible it is that we happen to be reading this particular Torah portion exactly when our contemporary lives are dealing with themes embedded in this ancient text. Maybe it is coincidence, or maybe, just maybe, the reason the Torah has endured so long is because, as Ben Bag Bag said over 1500 years ago, "Turn it over and (again) turn it over, for all is therein." (Pirkei Avot 5:22). 

Shavua Tov!