WARNING: Much speculation ahead.
The strangest part of parshas Pinchas has to be the section that begins וידבר משה אל ה לאמר. Moses striking up the conversation is a strange change of pace. The section continues to describe Moses' plea that G-d appoint a leader over the Israelites, one that will lead them out of the desert and bring them into the land of Israel.
One of those seemingly obvious necessities, right? So why didn't G-d to think to do it before? Why, after commanding Moses to come up to Har Haavarim, to be gathered unto his people (i.e., die) must G-d be advised to appoint a leader for His people? It almost sounds like G-d didn't really agree with Moses, that G-d didn't see a necessity in His intervention in appointing a leader, or that maybe Bnei Yisrael didn't need one at all.
Moshe did see a necessity. He couldn't comprehend how the Israelites could last on their own, after their last mishap. In the beginning of Pinchas G-d commands Moshe to wage a war- to literally inflict pain- against the Midianites because they inflicted pain on the Israelites. That pain was twofold: 1. The matter of Peor (seemingly including both the idol worship and immorality) and 2. The matter of Cuzbi (which had to include Zimri) who openly displayed their immoral behavior. The physically painful aspect was the deadly plague that G-d sent on the Jews, which abruptly stopped after Cuzbi and Zimri were killed by Pinchas.
But only Pinchas seemed to figure that out, that Cuzbi and Zimri needed to be killed. Only he reacted. And it wasn't that hard a problem to fix.
Moshe saw that, and saw the need for someone to be in charge, because otherwise it wouldn't be everyone taking charge, it would be no one. In Moshe's eyes this was a defining moment for this generation of Bnei Yisrael, and it did not define them as very self-motivated.
So Moshe advised G-d to appoint a leader, because he couldn't understand how Bnei Yisrael could make it otherwise. And G-d acquiesces. And apparently the command to go up to Har Haavarim has also been postponed. (For a whole Sefer.)
In the beginning of Matos, G-d again commands Moshe to wage the war against the Midianites, but the terminology has changed. Originally the war was a צרור, a paining. Now it is a נקם, a vengeance. The war has become a symbol that Bnei Israel have lost something, and must avenge their loss. Perhaps their loss was that ability to continue in Israel without any leader, to be able to have a more direct relationship with G-d that did not require a middleman.
But there's more. G-d now discloses what He didn't say before, which is why Moshe's ascent to Har Haavarim and subsequent death has been delayed, beside for the need to appoint Yehoshua. G-d says, "avenge the vengeance of the Israelites from the Midianites; then you will be gathered to your people." The irony of Moshe telling G-d that the people needed a leader is that in the same instance that the people failed to act and kill Zimri, Moshe also failed. The "new" reason to wage war against the Midianites applied to Moshe as much as everyone else, so he had to live to be involved in it.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Saturday, July 4, 2009
In-dependance
This past weekend we commemorated one of the great lives of the past few hundred years. One who's legacy lives on in thousands of individuals, to whom he spread his ideals and knowledge to bring greater meaning to their lives. That person, was none other than R' Shmuel Yaakov Weinberg Zatza"l, the previous Rosh Yeshiva of Ner Israel.
K, so I spent July 4 at Ner visiting friends there, and literally didn't remember that it was Independence Day until about Havdalah time. And it was the Shabbos before R' Weinberg's Yahrtzeit, so I learned a whole lot about a guy who I'd never heard of, in the form of forty-five minute speeches at all the meals during which we were apparently expected not to continue eating. Seemed like a nice guy.
But probably not my most memorable July 4. That had to be when I was sixteen, during the first vending summer. It's not exactly the highest class work, so you get to meet some interesting (/shady) people. I got a call on the afternoon of July 3 from my friend S asking me to go to Grant Park that night and sell glow-sticks with him. Apparently, he and a couple other of my friends were offered by an older vendor this incredible opportunity, but for one reason or another all the guys bailed except for S, who probably sensed the shadiness involved, and didn't want to go alone. I hadn't any other plans and Grant Park sounded like a cool place to be for fireworks, so I agreed, and as instructed brought an overnight back to hold the merchandise.
We spent about fifteen minutes trying to find our vendor in GP, but eventually we got the stuff and got to selling. Mine weren't going too quickly, perhaps because I just couldn't fathom how anyone in their right mind would spend $3 on a single glow-stick, even if it was 2 for $5. I guess you kinda have to believe in what you're selling. I was walking within 15-20 feet of S, selling on the other side, when a cop yelled him over. We had both suspected that it was probably illegal to sell anything in downtown Chicago without a permit, but figured it was a really slight risk. I decided that the cop didn't really care about me, because he was a lot closer to S, so I just continued walking. To which I heard, "HEY! Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Yeah, apparently cops don't like to be run away from.
I went to join S by the cop, who was wearing jeans and a tucked in short-sleeve shirt, and looking pretty scary to me, who knew this was how I was gonna not get into any colleges. He flashed his badge, asked us for permits, and told us they were getting all the illegal merchants. He pointed to my friend and told him to give up his merchandise. He turned to me and said "You- you're going down to the station. Just a slight misdemeanor." He told me to turn around, and put my hands behind my back. I could have sh*t myself. It was probably the scariest moment of my life.
We begged, told the cop I was an idiot who probably didn't deserve to live numerous times. In the end he had mercy, and just took my stuff away. I lost an overnight bag, but at least I didn't get raped in a jail cell. I counted my blessings. S and I went back to our vendor, collected our commission on what we sold, and ditched the fireworks, which we were no longer really in the mood for.
And we came out with a story. For a fairly good-two-shoed person, I now had an encounter with a cop that almost ended in handcuffs on my resume. Even better, it wasn't one that I had to put on a college application in the space where they ask you if you've ever been arrested, because I hadn't! I was kinda happy about the whole thing. It had some semblance of adulthood which seemed cool.
This summer has been mostly away from the parents' house, but I can't say it's felt very independent. My program put me up in an apartment so no rent bills, and I haven't done much extravagant cooking because I don't have a kosher oven. I've learned to grocery shop, but not much more. When you're seven hundred miles from home, however, there is a slightly better chance of needing to be able to cope on your own.
Like Saturday night. Motzei Shabbos my phone decided not to turn on. It continued to refuse to be turned on for the remainder of the drive back to College Park from Baltimore. Including the point at the end when I decided to take I495 South instead of West. Thereby missing my exit. (I should mention that even Google wasn't clear on these directions.) So I got a little lost in a foreign city at about 11:30 PM with no cell phone. I didn't get as far as the 'F' word, but I did get to 'S', so you could sense the freaking out going on in my mind.
Eventually I found my way back to the highway going the other way and made it back to College Park, but it wasn't exactly a thrilling experience. It was one of those times where I was really appreciating Chicago, where getting lost just means you have to find a place to turn around, because on the grid there are only four directions to go. (Granted I would not want to have to stop somewhere in Chicago at 12 AM and ask for directions. Not that I did that here, because y'know, I'm manly like that.)
In other words, being independent in the sense of being cell-phone less kinda sucks. I'm sure it has advantages in other areas, like say Israel, or the U.S. but I'm not sure I see the point of moving out just yet.
K, so I spent July 4 at Ner visiting friends there, and literally didn't remember that it was Independence Day until about Havdalah time. And it was the Shabbos before R' Weinberg's Yahrtzeit, so I learned a whole lot about a guy who I'd never heard of, in the form of forty-five minute speeches at all the meals during which we were apparently expected not to continue eating. Seemed like a nice guy.
But probably not my most memorable July 4. That had to be when I was sixteen, during the first vending summer. It's not exactly the highest class work, so you get to meet some interesting (/shady) people. I got a call on the afternoon of July 3 from my friend S asking me to go to Grant Park that night and sell glow-sticks with him. Apparently, he and a couple other of my friends were offered by an older vendor this incredible opportunity, but for one reason or another all the guys bailed except for S, who probably sensed the shadiness involved, and didn't want to go alone. I hadn't any other plans and Grant Park sounded like a cool place to be for fireworks, so I agreed, and as instructed brought an overnight back to hold the merchandise.
We spent about fifteen minutes trying to find our vendor in GP, but eventually we got the stuff and got to selling. Mine weren't going too quickly, perhaps because I just couldn't fathom how anyone in their right mind would spend $3 on a single glow-stick, even if it was 2 for $5. I guess you kinda have to believe in what you're selling. I was walking within 15-20 feet of S, selling on the other side, when a cop yelled him over. We had both suspected that it was probably illegal to sell anything in downtown Chicago without a permit, but figured it was a really slight risk. I decided that the cop didn't really care about me, because he was a lot closer to S, so I just continued walking. To which I heard, "HEY! Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Yeah, apparently cops don't like to be run away from.
I went to join S by the cop, who was wearing jeans and a tucked in short-sleeve shirt, and looking pretty scary to me, who knew this was how I was gonna not get into any colleges. He flashed his badge, asked us for permits, and told us they were getting all the illegal merchants. He pointed to my friend and told him to give up his merchandise. He turned to me and said "You- you're going down to the station. Just a slight misdemeanor." He told me to turn around, and put my hands behind my back. I could have sh*t myself. It was probably the scariest moment of my life.
We begged, told the cop I was an idiot who probably didn't deserve to live numerous times. In the end he had mercy, and just took my stuff away. I lost an overnight bag, but at least I didn't get raped in a jail cell. I counted my blessings. S and I went back to our vendor, collected our commission on what we sold, and ditched the fireworks, which we were no longer really in the mood for.
And we came out with a story. For a fairly good-two-shoed person, I now had an encounter with a cop that almost ended in handcuffs on my resume. Even better, it wasn't one that I had to put on a college application in the space where they ask you if you've ever been arrested, because I hadn't! I was kinda happy about the whole thing. It had some semblance of adulthood which seemed cool.
This summer has been mostly away from the parents' house, but I can't say it's felt very independent. My program put me up in an apartment so no rent bills, and I haven't done much extravagant cooking because I don't have a kosher oven. I've learned to grocery shop, but not much more. When you're seven hundred miles from home, however, there is a slightly better chance of needing to be able to cope on your own.
Like Saturday night. Motzei Shabbos my phone decided not to turn on. It continued to refuse to be turned on for the remainder of the drive back to College Park from Baltimore. Including the point at the end when I decided to take I495 South instead of West. Thereby missing my exit. (I should mention that even Google wasn't clear on these directions.) So I got a little lost in a foreign city at about 11:30 PM with no cell phone. I didn't get as far as the 'F' word, but I did get to 'S', so you could sense the freaking out going on in my mind.
Eventually I found my way back to the highway going the other way and made it back to College Park, but it wasn't exactly a thrilling experience. It was one of those times where I was really appreciating Chicago, where getting lost just means you have to find a place to turn around, because on the grid there are only four directions to go. (Granted I would not want to have to stop somewhere in Chicago at 12 AM and ask for directions. Not that I did that here, because y'know, I'm manly like that.)
In other words, being independent in the sense of being cell-phone less kinda sucks. I'm sure it has advantages in other areas, like say Israel, or the U.S. but I'm not sure I see the point of moving out just yet.
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