Dvar Torah on Parshat Behaalotecha

The recent string of grotesque and deadly attacks on innocent people, in Tel Aviv, Paris, Orlando, Yorkshire, etc. has produced a conversation online and in the media that is toxic in its own way. The inability to hold more than one idea at a time in one’s head, or to see more than one perspective, has led to a completely unnecessary and quite ugly fight between those who see gay rights as central, those who see gun control as crucial, those who want the fight against Islamist terror to take center stage, and those who feel a need to blame all the world’s ills on Trump or Obama. No one listens to anyone – I heard one LGBT spokesperson say “I totally disagree with you” to an “it’s all about the Muslim terror” spokesperson and then say something that actually complemented perfectly what he had just said. The tone and content is usually dismissive and vicious, and, in general,  much more heat than light is generated by these non-dialogues. It would seem that civil discourse is one more casualty of the various terror attacks we are experiencing.  

This week’s parsha (in Israel), B’ha’alotcha, contains a good deal of toxic speech. The people of Israel complain bitterly, again and again, to Moshe and God about their physical situation in the desert, in spite of the fact that they are actually receiving manna from heaven, which is about as good as it gets.  Moshe loses his patience, and unsuccessfully tries to resign his position as leader. Moshe and God both lose their temper, and the results are catastrophic: thousands die of fire and plague.

There’s more: the parsha ends with the very dramatic story of Moshe’s siblings, Aharon and Miriam, speaking badly about him and his wife (this is either a racial thing, as Moshe’s wife was African, or a jealousy thing; who is Moshe to play holier than thou? We also heard the voice of God). Miriam is punished with a case of leprosy, is saved only by Moshe’s intervention with God, and is healed.

All in all, the parsha is a litany of selfish, negative, false, and hurtful speech. Clearly, whatever issues the Jewish people had with their situation in the desert could have been brought up in a more reasonable, positive way, and whatever problem Aharon and Miriam had with their brother (their brother!) could have been calmly discussed. The choice to abandon reasonable discourse and slander, accuse, and verbally attack, instead, leads to death and destruction. This is the obvious lesson of the parsha for us and our growing inability to debate rationally and calmly, to listen respectfully, and to try and understand opposing positions: this path leads to madness. 

There is also another, important lesson for us in the parsha. Moshe, frustrated by the selfish and false complaints of the people of Israel, tenders his resignation. God, of course, does not accept it, but He does offer a solution: “And God said to Moshe, gather for me seventy men from the elders of Israel, whom you know to be the elders and officers of the nation, and take them to the Tent of Meeting and have them present themselves there with you. And I will come down and I will speak with you there and I will take from the spirit which is upon you and I will place it on them, and they will bear with you the burden of the nation, and you will not bear it alone.” (Bamidbar, 11; 16-17)

These seventy elders are the beginning of what will be the supreme judicial and legislative body of the Jewish people, the Sanhedrin. This body, whose work is described in the Mishna and Gemara, makes law, judges cases, and is an open forum for deliberation on the rules and practices of Jewish society. I say ‘open forum’ because, in a famous story in Tractate Brachot  (27b), Rabban Gamliel, the head of the Sanhedrin at the time, tried to limit participation in the deliberations to well-off and well-connected Rabbis, for which he was deposed, and the doors of the Sanhedrin were again opened to all, to come in and join the debate.

The seventy elders are appointed not just to take some of the load of leadership off of Moshe, to give him a few days off while they took care of things; for that, one or two assistants would suffice. The elders are appointed in order to model healthy dialogue and debate, to show the people of Israel that there is a better way to deal with problems, disagreements, and complaints. The elders show us how people who disagree are meant to behave.

The model of the elders, and the Sanhedrin, where debate is open and wide-ranging, and where the majority rules but minority positions are respected and recorded - in fact, the entire Rabbinic project, which is centered in the Sanhedrin and recorded in the Mishna, Talmud, and successive works - is, ultimately, the cure for the hate speech which plagues the parsha, as it plagues our society.

It is true that there were occasions when this positive and healthy discourse broke down, when people were stifled, excluded, excommunicated, or treated unfairly. However, these dysfunctional moments are recorded in the Talmud as lessons for us: this is not the way it is meant to work, this is not the way for us to manage our public discourse. 

What we need today is more Talmudic discourse: the ability to hold a few ideas in our heads at the same time, to respect our ideological adversary, allow him or her to explain themselves, and to listen carefully and receptively to what they say. Unless we can follow this model of public conversation and deliberation, we are doomed.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Shimon Felix