The Committee Meeting from Heaven

B'haalot'cha, Numbers 8:1−12:16

D'Var Torah By: Renee B. Rittner

Not so long ago, in a congregation that could be your own, lived a man named Joseph Smithstein. His synagogue, Congregation Echad, was once vibrant, but over time things had changed. Two years ago, because nobody wanted to take the helm, Joe, a new member, became the president. At first, there was a revitalization in the congregation, a resurgence of the youth group, and higher attendance at Shabbat services. Things were looking up, but that was two years ago. Now congregants seemed bored again, and a rumbling of complaints had begun. Confused and fatigued, Joe phoned the synagogue's former spiritual leader, Rabbi Tal Mud.

The rabbi reviewed this week's portion, Parashat B'haalot'cha, and stated, "Moses faced a similar issue. The Israelites were mumbling about their daily routine. They seemed bored with its monotony. Overwhelmed, Moses turned to God and shared, 'I cannot carry all this people by myself, for it is too much for me.'" (Numbers 11:14) The rabbi explained that God instructed Moses to "gather... seventy of Israel's elders.… They shall share the burden of the people with you, and you shall not bear it alone." (Numbers 11:16-17) Rabbi Mud then reminded Joe that Moses had received similar advice before: Jethro, Moses' father-in-law, had previously suggested that Moses "seek out...trustworthy men...and let them share the burden with you." (Exodus 18:21-22) Rabbi Mud paused, chuckled, and said, "God was basically instructing Moses to hold the first-ever committee meeting."

Joe also had committee meetings. (Boy, did he have committee meetings!) The meetings, mainly grumbling and shouting matches, were the hardest part of being president. They were very long and repetitive. There was always an agenda, but it never led anywhere. Joe let everyone argue, knowing that he would end up doing all the work anyway. Joe's favorite part of committee meetings was when they ended.

Joe was puzzled: Now he had very different questions for Rabbi Mud. The first question on Joe's mind was, Why would God want to subject Moses to the "fun" of a committee meeting? Joe took a deep breath and was about to ask his question when Rabbi Mud thanked Joe for his call and suggested that Joe continue thinking about Moses' experiences on his own. The phone line went dead. Joe got up and looked around the room. He remembered that somewhere on a bookshelf he had a copy of The Torah: A Modern Commentary, edited by Rabbi W. Gunther Plaut. He looked up Parashat B'haalot'cha.

The committee meeting that Rabbi Tal Mud had discussed was far more complex than anything Joe could have imagined. Moses and the seventy leaders didn't come to that meeting with an agenda. Just like the committee meetings held by Congregation Echad's members, those presided over by Moses' committee hadn't gotten anything done either. Instead, their meeting was a group-bonding experience. Joe read, "The Eternal came down in a cloud and spoke to him; he drew upon the spirit that was on him and put it upon the seventy elders." (Numbers 11:25) "Wow!" Joe shouted aloud. Amazingly, God, Moses, and the elders had shared a moment, a vision. With God's help, Joe reflected, Moses had led the people Israel through many trials before B'haalot'cha. With God's help, Moses could certainly have continued to do the same. However, the act of sharing a vision with others gave Moses the impetus to carry on.

Joe was sure that he'd never experienced biblical prophecy, but he certainly had a congregational vision. It was time to share. Reenergized, Joe booted up his computer and eagerly turned to his congregational e-mail list.

The Way We Were, Are, and Hope To Be

Daver Acher By: Mark L. Winer

When we remember the past, we so often forget the worst and recall only the best: "When I was a boy…" "Once upon a time…" Americans wax rhapsodic about the frontier values of the Old West. Israelis love to recall the idealism and enthusiasm of the chalutzim, the pioneering kibbutzniks of the early twentieth century. Englishmen shed copious tears about "having lost the Empire."

At synagogue meetings throughout the world, someone almost invariably compares today's difficulties unfavorably with the way "we used to do things around here." In retrospect, we long for the simpler Jewish identity of our immigrant antecedents and old-country ancestors. Shtetl life was poor in material comforts but rich in family strength and religious tradition. In so remembering the past, we forget the negative aspects of the way it was. We so easily forget the anti-Semitism that was so much worse years ago. We forget the authoritarianism and sexism within the Jewish community. We forget the insecurity of being a Jew after World War II. We forget the fears for Israel's survival before the Six-Day War in 1967. The theme song from the film The Way We Were says, "Memories may be beautiful but yet, what's too painful to remember, we simply choose to forget.… So it's the laughter, we will remember, whenever we remember the way we were."

In this week's Torah portion, B'haalot'cha, our ancestors voiced similar nostalgia: Zacharnu et hadagah asher nochal b'mitzrayim, "We remember the fish that we ate in Egypt." (Numbers 11:5) They forgot the lashes and oppression, the humiliation and the slavery. But, oh, the fish!

I cannot count the times I have heard people talk about the good old days when there were real Jewish neighborhoods; when there was a true and vital Jewish community; when Jews were real Jews; when there was not so much assimilation, not so much intermarriage; when families were truly committed to Jewish practices and observance.

Such Jewish nostalgia for the olden days forgets the "chrein" and remembers only the "gefilte fish." Things may have been simpler from a Jewish perspective, but they were by no means better. With all of our problems, I still choose today. The difficulties we contemporary Jews encounter in building as vibrant a Jewish community as we might like are our problems. They are not the problems imposed upon us by an anti-Semitic world or by the poverty and poor education of our fellow Jews. Almost no Jews in the world today live under totalitarian regimes, unable to move to Israel or to America or to Great Britain or to other places that grant Jews freedom.

As a Jew, I choose today. I have always been a Reform Jew. Reform Judaism is so much more vibrant today than it was when I was a child growing up in the 40s and 50s in Utah, Indiana, and Texas. So many more Reform Jews know much more about Judaism and practice Judaism much more seriously and read Hebrew far more fluently. In my view, we are, frankly, more authentically Jewish, even as we are better integrated into modern life, without compromise or apology.

As good as today is, I deeply believe that tomorrow will be even better. Since I like today far more than yesterday, I choose tomorrow for my children and grandchildren. I'm not sure how we will solve today's problems, but we will solve them. That is my faith. And that is my trust in Jewish destiny and in the Covenant established by our ancestors with God at Sinai. Just as they had to overcome their nostalgia for the past to move on toward tomorrow, the dynamism of our Jewish Covenant with God demands no less of our generation.

Reference Materials

B'haalot'cha, Numbers 8:1–12:16
The Torah: A Modern Commentary, pp. 1,075–1,100; Revised Edition, pp. 950–973;
The Torah: A Women's Commentary, pp. 843–868

Originally published: