From
Columbia to Columbia; from degradation to dignity; from static to dynamic
liturgy. And a talking donkey, to boot.
On the
evening of June 17 2015, Dylann Roof entered the Emanuel AME Church in Charleston, South Carolina, sat for an hour in a
Bible study class, and then shot nine people dead, igniting a wave of grief,
horror, anger, despair—and
frustration that violent racism is still a fact of life in this country, and
that civil rights are as much a dream as they are a reality for far too many
Americans. Ten days after the Emanuel AME Church shooting, Bree Newsome
shimmied up the flagpole in front of the South Carolina State House in Columbia
and unhooked the Confederate battle flag that has flown there since 1961.
Whatever it may once have symbolized, the “Stars and Bars” is today an emblem of hatred and
racial violence.
Permit me
a moment of home town pride: Bree Newsome grew up in another Columbia, Maryland
(not South Carolina), where I have lived for the past three decades and where
we raised our four children. It was Newsome’s act—bold, forthright, proactive—that
launched a serious discussion in this country about the meaning of the
Confederate flag in the 21st century, the power of symbols, and the importance
of taking them seriously. We see where that has gone in a short time: S.C. Gov.
Nikki Haley has called for the permanent removal of the flag from the capitol. Walmart,
Amazon, Apple, Sears, eBay, and others have pulled all merchandise with the
Confederate flag. Yet it is abundantly clear that as far as we have come in the
realm of civil rights, we have a long way to go before everyone in this country
is assured of living the “American
dream” without worry of discrimination and
violence. Redemption is still a far-off dream for far too many Americans.
This week’s parashah,
Balak, tells a story that would seem wholly unconnected to the events in
South Carolina and the crying need for redemption from racial bigotry and
violence in this nation. The Talmud, however, provides a wonderful bridge. The
story told in Parshat Balak is simultaneously serious, and seasoned with
burlesque comedy and satire. The Moabites’ go-to
prophet is a man so daft that his donkey can see and comprehend what he cannot,
and proves this by uttering human speech.
But the
prophet Bilaam is out to make cold, hard cash by doing the bidding of King
Balak of Moab, across whose land the Israelites are traveling on their way to
Eretz Yisrael (the Land of Israel). Bilaam presents a real and present danger
to Israel:
Balak
son of Tzippor, who was the king of Moab at that time, sent messengers to
Bilaam son of Be’or in Petor, which is by the Euphrates, in
the land of his kinfolk, to invite him, saying, “There
is a people that came out of Egypt; it hides the earth from view, and it is
settled next to me. Come then, put a curse upon this people for me, since they
are too numerous for me; perhaps I can thus defeat them and drive them out of
the land. For I know that he whom you bless is blessed indeed, and he whom you
curse is cursed.”
(Numbers
22:4-6)
If Balak’s speech
reminds you of the paranoia of the bloodthirsty pharaoh of Egypt, you are on
the right track. While the Moabites are the latest in a string of enemies
Israel encounters in the Wilderness who seek her demise (joining the ranks of
the Amalekites, the Edomites, and the Amorites) King Balak reminds us of
Pharaoh in a way the others do not. Balak identifies Israel as the people that
came out of Egypt but even more, his comments are reminiscent of Pharaoh, who
tells his people:
“Look,
the Israelite people are much too numerous for us. Let us deal shrewdly with
them, so that they may not increase; otherwise in the event of war they may
join our enemies in fighting against us and rise from the ground.” (Exodus
1:9)
Where
Pharaoh decrees the death of the Hebrew baby boys lest they rise up against him
and assigns midwives the gruesome task of rooting them out and killing them,
Balak hires a prophet to curse Israel. Is Israel’s escape from the murderous intent of
Balak and the greedy grasp of Bilaam another exodus?
The Exodus
we celebrate each year on Passover is on-going; redemption is continually and
crucially needed. Our story of national
redemption is the core of our identity as a people. What it represents—arising
from degradation, striving for freedom and dignity— is the universal dream of all
humanity. It is an essential plank of our mission as a people. Our Sages
recognized and honored the centrality of the meaning of the Exodus by assigning
it a place of honor and prominence in our liturgy: it is the organizing
principle in the section of prayers known as the “Shema and its blessings.” Twice daily we recite prayers that
sketch out the Jewish view of history, from creation to ultimate and
culminating redemption; the account of our redemption from Egypt presages the
messianic future.
There is a
suggestion in the Babylonian Talmud (Berakhot 12b) that some or all of the
story of Bilaam ought to be included in the prayers—specifically
the Shema—as a
reminder of the Exodus. Are you surprised?
R.
Abbahu b. Zutrati said in the name of R. Yehudah b. Zevida: [The Rabbis] wanted to include the section of
Balak in the Shema, but they did not do so because it would have meant too
great a burden for the congregation.
R. Abbahu
learned from R. Yehudah b. Zevida that when the earlier Sages shaped the
liturgy, they considered including the story of Balak in the Shema, but decided
against it because it is so long. Perhaps you’re wondering: Why not include a verse
or two? They tell us further along that we only make separations between Torah
passages where Moses did.[1] The
question posed here is: Why include this passage at all?
Why
[did they want to include it]? Because it contains the words, God who
brought them forth out of Egypt (Numbers 23:22). Then let us say the
section on usury or weights, in which the exodus from Egypt is mentioned.
The first
answer offered to explain why one might include the Bilaam passage in the Shema
is that Bilaam, in his second oracle, refers to the Exodus from Egypt. But this
is hardly an unusual thing. If that alone qualifies for inclusion in the Shema,
we might consider the passages in Leviticus that forbid usury and the use of
inaccurate weights and measures when conducting business.[2] An
obvious response to the challenge posed by comparing Bilaam with usury and
false weights is that the Exodus from Egypt involved the redemption of Israel
from the jaws of an enemy that sought her destruction. Usury and false weights
are not in this category. R. Yose b. Avin, however, rejects the very suggestion
that the mention of the Exodus is the reason the Sages considered using the
passage about Bilaam. There is another verse, he tells us, that makes the
passage relevant to the recitation of Shema:
Rather,
said R. Yose b. Avin, [the reason is] because it contains the verse, They crouch, they lie down
like a lion, like
the king of beasts; who dare rouse them (or: get them up)
(Numbers 24:9).
The
connection, according to R. Yose b. Avin, is forged by the image of the lion.
Its crouching and arising evokes “lie down and rise up” in the first paragraph of Shema.[3] If that
is the salient element in the story of Bilaam, then why not excerpt that verse
alone to recite with Shema? The Rabbis explain that doing this is inappropriate
because we follow textual divisions as Moses set them out. Rather than Bilaam,
we have a paragraph about tzitzit (fringes).
…Why
did they include the section of fringes[4]
[instead of the passage about Bilaam]? R. Yehudah b. Chaviva said: Because it
makes reference to five [alt: six] things: the precept of tzitzit (fringes), the Exodus
from Egypt, the yoke of the commandments, [a warning against] the opinions of
the minim (heretics), the hankering after sexual immorality, and the
hankering after idolatry.
(The
Talmud proceeds to explain how the third paragraph of the Shema, which became a
fixed feature of the liturgy, in fact addresses the six concerns expressed
above.)
I am
intrigued by the Talmud’s
suggestion that an alternative passage to the paragraph about fringes could be
brought to illuminate the theme of Redemption.
How might
we use Bilaam? Here, the plan of a powerful king, employing a powerful
wizard-prophet, is foiled by a simple creature—the donkey—who is
attuned to God. The story can be interpreted as a reminder that power and
position do not always succeed in enslaving, oppressing, and destroying people.
How many powerful kingdoms throughout history have disintegrated as a result of
their own internal corruption and the perseverance of idealistic opponents? The
story of Bilaam is one of hope that corruption and evil intent do not always
succeed, and redemption and wisdom sometimes come from unexpected places—the
stubborn donkey becomes a model for our refusal to accept injustice and
oppression.
While the
Talmud brings the passages concerning usury and false weights as examples of
Torah texts that mention of the Exodus but would not be suitable for inclusion
in the Shema, I’d
like to suggest that they might well serve that purpose admirably. The modern
corollary to the Egyptian enslavement is the chronically impoverished who
suffer from the systemic problems in our society that prevent them from
experiencing redemption and true freedom. The passage concerning usury and
false weights can serve to remind us of the need to clean up the system and
employ “honest
weights” so the poor can experience their own
Exodus from the Egypt of poverty.
I can
envision a dynamic liturgy with a space created in the Shema—perhaps
weekly?—to bring a
text that mentions the Exodus or suggests a model for redemption. We would
pause in our rote recitation of prayers and consider and discuss the
interpretations and ramifications of the “guest text” in the service, thereby reminding
ourselves of our obligation to not only be grateful benefactors of God’s
redemption, but instruments for bring about other people’s
Exoduses.
© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman
[1] This is, of course, a highly subjective matter.
Determining where and how Moses partitioned the text of Torah—without even addressing the historical source of Torah—is all but impossible to determine. The Rabbis seem concerned
that the story of Bilaam, which extends from Numbers 22:2—24:5 (three chapters) should be considered one indivisible
unit.
[2] Leviticus 25:34-38 instructs the Israelites not to lend
the poor money or give them food at interest, thereby taking advantage of them
and, in the long run, increasing their debt. It closes, I the Lord am your God,
who brought you out of the land of Egypt, to give you the land of Canaan, to be
your God.
Similarly, Leviticus 19:35-36 forbids the use of false measures of length,
weight, and volume in the conduct of business and similarly closes, I the Lord am your God
who freed you from the land of Egypt.
[3] The first paragraph of Shema instructs us to teach, speak,
and live by the words of the Torah at all times and in all places, including
this phrase: b’shoch-b’cha u’ve-ku-mekha
(“when you lie down and when you rise up”).
[4] Numbers 15:37-41.
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