In 2007 an anonymous Jewish blogger attempted to classify all 613 mitzvot of the Torah into those that were likely to be supported by Democrats and those that would be supported by Republicans. He went through each mitzvah and asked, which American political party in 2007 would be more likely to vote for an imaginary piece of legislation to enact that mitzvah as law. The vast majority of mitzvot, of course, would not be promoted by either party in the 21st century and those were assigned a neutral value. But, there were mitzvot which one could imagine being supported by one of the major American political parties.
You can do this exercise too. Take a list of the 613 mitzvot, exclude those that are ritual and ceremonial, which no modern political party would support, and decide how likely it is that the Democrats or Republicans would legislate a rule mandating that everyone fear God, or leave the corners of his field to the poor, or love her neighbor as herself.
The whole exercise seems rather silly to me. And, because the blogger went through the trouble, you don’t have to. His result was a statistical tie. I’m happy to share the precise numbers for those who need to know.
The exercise is silly because the complex series of policy concerns that divide current politics are categorically different, in many, many instances, from the concerns of the Torah and from the policies that the Torah promotes for governing a society dramatically and inescapably different from our own. But, I do believe that there are any number of lessons, very important lessons, that the Torah provides for people as political beings, and I want to share one very important one as it emerges from Parashat Ba’halotcha.
Parashat Baalot’cha is a parasha of many mysteries and perhaps the biggest one of all is trying to account for the extreme, over-the-top, melodramatic reaction that Moshe has when the People of Israel ask for meat.
Recall, that just months earlier, Moshe had risen to the occasion and defended the Jewish people in the aftermath of the sin of the Golden Calf. Back then Moshe knew just what to do. He formulated precisely the arguments that won God over to granting forgiveness to the Jewish people.
And yet, how does Moshe respond when the people ask for meat, a seemingly innocuous request?
וַיֹ֨אמֶר מֹשֶ֜ה אֶל־ה׳ לָמָ֤ה הֲרעֹ֙תָ֙ לְעַבְדֶָ֔ וְלָ֛מָה לא־מָצָ֥תִי חֵ֖ן בְעֵינֶ֑יָ לָש֗ום אֶת־מַשָ֛א כָל־הָעָ֥ם הַזֶ֖ה עָלָֽי׃ הֶאָנֹכִ֣י הָר֗יתִי אֵ֚ת כָל־הָעָ֣ם הַזֶ֔ה אִם־אָנֹכִ֖י יְלִדתִ֑יהו כִֽי־תֹאמַ֨ר אֵלַ֜י שָאֵ֣הו בְחֵיקָ֗ כַאֲשֶ֨ר יִשָ֤א הָאֹמֵן֙ אֶת־הַיֹנֵ֔ק עַ֚ל הָֽאֲדמָ֔ה אֲשֶ֥ר נִשְבַ֖עְתָ לַאֲבֹתָֽיו׃
מֵאַ֤יִן לִי֙ בָשָ֔ר לָתֵ֖ת לְכָל־הָעָ֣ם הַזֶ֑ה כִֽי־יִבְכ֤ו עָלַי֙ לֵאמֹ֔ר תְנָה־לָ֥נו בָשָ֖ר וְנֹאכֵֽלָה׃
And Moses said to the LORD, “Why have You dealt ill with Your servant, and why have I not enjoyed Your favor, that You have laid the burden of all this people upon me?
Did I conceive all this people, did I bear them, that You should say to me, ‘Carry them in your bosom as a nurse carries an infant,’ to the land that You have promised on oath to their fathers? Where am I to get meat to give to all this people, when they whine before me and say, ‘Give us meat to eat!’ I cannot carry all this people by myself, for it is too much for me.
Moshe is beside himself! He compares himself to a pregnant woman and a nursing parent and despairs of his ability to provide the care and nourishment that the people need. He goes so far as to say
וְאִם־כָ֣כָה ׀ אַתְ־עֹ֣שֶה לִ֗י הָרגֵ֤נִי נָא֙ הָר֔ג אִם־מָצָ֥אתִי חֵ֖ן בְעֵינֶ֑יָ וְאַל־אֶראֶ֖ה בְרעָתִֽי׃
If You would deal thus with me, kill me rather, I beg You, and let me see no more of my wretchedness!
Where does this despondency come from? Why does Moshe despair? Why does Moshe express suicidal ideation? He was strong as a rock in reaction to the Golden Calf and he saved the Jewish People then. Why does the request for meat push him over the edge?
Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik articulated an answer to this question.
The beginning of Parashat Ba’alot’cha continues the first section of Sefer BaMidbar, which is sort of a collection of unfinished business, tying off loose ends, left from Sefer Vayikra. Sefer Vayikra is an owner’s manual for the mishkan and an owner’s manual for the sort of sacred community which can contain a mishkan in its midst. Sefer Bamidbar up to our parashah is remaining details of the mishkan, its inauguration and information about who the entire community is meant to travel to Eretz Yisrael with the mishkan at its center.
And then, once those details are taken care of, the Torah pivots to the journey to Eretz Yisrael itself: Moshe turns to his father in law and cries out, נֹסְעִ֣ים ׀ אֲנַ֗חְנו “we are finally on our way!”
וַיְהִ֛י בִנְסֹ֥עַ הָאָר֖ן וַיֹ֣אמֶר מֹשֶ֑ה קומָ֣ה ׀ יְהוָ֗ה וְיָפֻ֙צו֙ אֹֽיְבֶ֔יָ וְיָנֻ֥סו מְשַנְאֶ֖יָ מִפָנֶֽיָ׃
ובְנֻחֹ֖ה יֹאמַ֑ר שובָ֣ה יְהוָ֔ה רֽבְב֖ות אַלְפֵ֥י יִשְראֵֽל׃
With these verses, the Torah describes an idealized vision of a straightforward march, following the Torah, to Eretz Yisrael. [When we say those verses in shul, the Torah moves and we stay in place. In its original context, the Torah moved and we followed it.]
It all begins to go wrong when the people ask for meat and vegetables, and watermelons, and garlic. It isn’t the food per se, it’s the hedonism and lack of self-control indicated in their request that is so troubling to Moshe. This is the moment when he realizes just how far he will need to take his people. This is the moment when he realizes how much they need to grow and how much he will need to involve himself in their growth.
The generation of the desert was not doomed to wander for 40 years until later – next week’s parasha. But Moshe already intuited that there would be trouble. People who respond with such pathos to the hedonic plane of existence are not able to inherit Eretz Yisrael.
This explains the unusual, even bizarre language in Moshe’s complaint. Did I carry this people and give birth to them? Am I a nursing parent? Moshe is saying to the Jewish People, in essence, “I am not your mother!” That is to say, you need to grow up, think outside your own immediate needs and desires, consider the needs of others, and act on behalf of the common good.
This is one of the major lessons of the Torah for political life. There are good-faith positions on both sides of most policy disputes. Since the Judaism is about balancing conflicting values, most questions of public morality will have no clear and obvious Jewish perspective. But public life requires men and women making decisions in the public interest, not motivated by their own narrow perspective and pursuit of personal gain. The Jews who cried bitterly for meat and garlic were not capable of self-government. If we deserve self-government, we need to concern ourselves about more than gastronomy.
And the same is true in communal affairs as well. Differences of opinion are a blessing in every community and when people sincerely seek the common good, there will be honest and reasonable and noble differences of opinion.
But to move outside oneself, one has to move outside oneself and prioritize others and the common good.
At the soiree on Thursday night it was so moving to hear story after story about the honorees and from the honorees about the role of the shul in their lives. It was truly humbling. It was even intimidating and awe inspiring for me to be reminded of just what this shul has meant in the lives of so many people for so many years. One recurring theme of all of the speeches was this notion that when individuals strive to serve others and to prioritize their needs over their own, the community is blessed, and the one who serves is blessed most of all.
So, in the afterglow of that inspiring evening. And with the echo of Moshe’s words of warning and concern in our ears, let us try to grow up. Let us seek out ways to prioritize others, to consider the common good, and to act in our families, within this community, and indeed, as political agents on behalf of our country, with the common good as our main agenda.
Rabbi David Wolkenfeld 