Dvar Torah: Kollot 23 May 2015 (Margaret Harris)
Written by Writings & Sermons by others — 26 May 2015
What was going through your mind this morning as we read the Torah portion?
Was it:
‘Here we go – another chunk of arcane stuff about the Israelites in the desert?’
Or perhaps it was:
‘Poor old Moses, never free of God telling him what to do.’
Or perhaps you thought: ‘Shekels’ ?– that sounds familiar from our travels to Israel’.
If you are a regular shul goer, perhaps some of the portion started some bells ringing in your mind about other bits of the torah that we have read in the past.
‘First born males’? – well that rings a bell so soon after reading the Exodus story during Pesach.
If you were brought up in a more Orthodox tradition, talk of Levites might have reminded you that there is a rule in Orthodox synagogues about the order in which men are called up to the torah – Cohanim first, then Levites, then other Israelites. You may remember from the Seder, that the three matzot are sometimes thought to symbolise these three groups. May be like Rabbi Josh, you know from your name or family folklore that you are actually descended from those busy Levites mentioned in today’s portion.
Then there is the talk about ‘redemption’. Perhaps that too rings some bells? May be you have even been present at a modern ceremony for the ‘redemption of the first born’ ‘Pidyon ha-ben’.
When I first read through today’s portion, there were distant murmurs of several bells of this kind – but not much more. And that really set me thinking.
Here I am, somebody who grew up here at Alyth and somebody who has been a fairly regular shul attender all my life, and what do I have in my intellectual tool bag when faced with the need to comment on this short passage from ‘Bemidbar’/Numbers? I have some gobbets of knowledge of Jewish principles and traditions and some vague notions that there are echoes in this passage today of other things that I have learned about in the past. But how very little learning I have to show for all those hours spent in cheder and in synagogue. Most humbling of all – how lacking I am in any ability to weave together those fragments into a coherent tapestry of Jewish knowledge.
Contemplating the thinness of my own Jewish learning I was reminded of the Chasidic tale which you may have spotted yourself in our High Holydays Machzor.
When the great Rabbi Israel Baal Shem-Tov saw misfortune threatening the Jews, it was his custom to go into a certain part of the forest to meditate. There he would light the fire, say a special prayer, and the miracle would be accomplished and the misfortune averted. Years later when a disciple of the Ba’al Shem-Tov, had occasion for the same reason, to intercede with heaven, he would go to the same place in the forest and say: “Master of the Universe, I do not know how to light the fire, but I am still able to say the prayer,” and again the miracle would be accomplished. Still later, another rabbi, in order to save his people once more, would go into the forest and say, “I do not know how to light the fire. I do not know the prayer, but I know the place and this must be sufficient.” It was sufficient and the miracle was accomplished. The years passed. And it fell to Rabbi Israel of Ryzhyn to overcome misfortune. Sitting in his armchair, his head in his hands, he spoke to God: “I am unable to light the fire, and I do not know the prayer, and I cannot even find the place in the forest. All I can do is tell the story, and this must be sufficient.” And it was sufficient.
There are numerous ways of interpreting this beautiful tale. It’s about how to find God; it’s about the nature of prayer; it’s about sincerity and devoutness; it shows that holiness is not in places and ritual but in ideas; it shows God’s compassion for our feebleness. But for me, as I contemplated my own inadequate knowledge when faced with today’s torah portion, the story contains a warning alongside the reassurance.
In the case of Rabbi Israel of Rhyzyn, simply telling the story was apparently sufficient in God’s eyes. But he was a learned and pious man steeped in Jewish studies. When I think about my own Jewish knowledge, by contrast, I know that it is not, in fact, “sufficient”.
Once we are left with only the story, we are getting near the end of the line in terms of passing on our Jewish tradition. The story, without underpinning understanding and background, may just about work for me – except when I am put on the spot to do a dvar torah. But what about the generations to come? They will be part of a more discerning and critical population which will not be Jewish just because we – current generations – tell them the story. If they are to commit themselves to Jewish peoplehood, they will want a reason and a backstory.
We all have busy lives. Even those who are so-called retired, have busy lives with family responsibilities, volunteering and community involvement. All the same, I would argue that we all of us need to find time in our crowded lives to do some learning which goes beyond and behind the stories – to claim back some of the deeper knowledge which underpins the stories and links them to each other.
For myself, and somewhat late in the day, I have found that regular participation in Rabbi Mark’s Talmud class has enabled me to start the process of linking together different bits of our tradition. Rabbi Mark shows us how Torah and Talmud commentary can grow into a fabulous web of insights and discussion. The haftarot from our sages which we now have in kollot, also help us to build this kind of more fundamental and nuanced knowledge of our tradition. And so do Rabbi Josh’s regular Shabbat learning sessions on Talmudic sugyot.
So I am hoping that the next time I am faced with a passage of torah to comment on, I will have more understanding of how the content of that passage links with other passages in torah and in talmud.
We have to try to pass on to future generations more than just the story. Despite the optimistic tone of the Chasidic tale, I fear that the story is not in fact sufficient to ensure a sustainable Judaism in 21st Century Britain. We need to have at least an inkling of how to find the place in the forest, even perhaps to light the fire. May be we can start this very evening with our Tikkun Leil Shavuot?