Generally speaking, I try not to repeat myself in my blog posts. If I've covered a certain subject within a Torah portion before, I look for other angles to pursue in subsequent years. But this week, I can't help myself.
Two years ago, I wrote about Pinchas' (questionable) 'covenant of peace,' and given the situation in the Middle East, I feel I must venture back into these troubled waters and speak about Pinchas yet again. You see, the Torah works pretty darn hard to present balanced perspectives, filled with grey areas and subjectivity. That is, perhaps, surprising to hear, because people often think of the Torah as hard-lined and straightforward; filled with 'thou shalt not's and a plethora of stone-able offenses. But I actually disagree. I think the Torah strives - constantly - for nuance and perspective. And this week's 'covenant of peace' is a great example.
The nuance isn't always obvious; that's where the Torah so often gets misunderstood. This week, we read about Pinchas, Aaron's grandson, who is rewarded by God for his zealous act of impaling an Israelite who publicly flaunted his relations with a Midianite (non-Israelite) woman.
And God is unequivocal (maybe) about rewarding Pinchas. On the surface, Pinchas' actions are clearly praised and held up as a communal example. And yet, several signs point to the author's (and later, the rabbis') unhappiness with Pinchas' rash, violent, and rogue behavior. In Numbers, 25:11, Pinchas' name is written in Hebrew with one letter significantly reduced in size. It is the letter 'yud,' which often also symbolizes God. The implication being that God's Presence was minimized in the actions of Pinchas. Furthermore, two verses later, the term for 'covenant of peace' is 'Brit Shalom,' and the word 'Shalom' is written with the letter 'vav' severed. It has a slit in the middle of its spine. Again, many commentators interpret this to mean it is a broken peace, a covenant born of violence and destruction.
This leads me to our (always) turbulent situation in the Middle East. Sometimes it feels as if we've run the word 'peace' into the ground. Everyone says it. Everyone claims to want it. Everyone's highest ideal,
ultimate goal, and most cherished wish is to achieve peace in the region. And yet, is anyone really working actively towards it? Rockets from Gaza rain down on all parts of Israel, with greater force, accuracy, and capacity to do harm than ever before. At the same time, reports surface that Israel's government knew the three teenagers were dead the day after they disappeared, and yet allowed a world-wide campaign to go on anyway. Who is working for peace? It feels as if our leaders, on both sides, believe they are Pinchas, and that acts of violence will somehow eventually lead to peace. And it is breaking our spines.
I didn't actually say this outright in last week's blog post, but I think it was clear in the message: We are asking the wrong questions. We get fixated on trying to determine who is to blame. We ask ourselves which side is more righteous and noble, who has the more corrupt leaders, how justifiable are each side's claims
to the land. Does this get us anywhere? Should we not instead be asking, who is willing to make hard, tough, painful decisions to eventually lead us to peace? Last week, we also read an incredible story about Israelis visiting the family of the slain Palestinian teenager. To me, that was the opposite of Pinchas. Both sides had to step WAY outside their comfort zones; the Israelis for showing up, the Palestinians for accepting their gesture. It was a small step, but a significant one, and those kinds of acts might possibly lead us to a long-lasting and meaningful 'covenant of peace.' If that's truly what we want, not just what we talk about wanting, we need to work HARD to see the humanity in the other. Then, maybe, our spines can begin to heal.
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