Greetings, everyone! I've been on a bit of a break from the blog, but wanted to get back into it. As I hit the 650 (!!) blog post mark, I'm thinking about possible ways to mix things up, change my focus, or in some other way restructure the blog. Please feel free to reach out with any thoughts/comments/suggestions. Thanks!
Over the years, I've several times found myself reflecting on "famous" quotes from the Torah. These are verses (or parts of verses) that, for any number of reasons, caught someone's attention and made their way into other texts. Sometimes they can be found in the prayer book, other times a
zemer (a special Shabbat song), or some part of the Jewish lifecycle. As a result, these verses may stand out in the text, almost like a well-known movie quote that you all of a sudden get to hear in its original context. I stumbled upon one such verse in this week's Torah reading. In this particular instance, the meaning in the
parashah and how it has become used in Jewish life are quite different, which makes it an excellent candidate for a blog post! :-)
First, let's look at the context: The Israelites are in the desert, having passed through the Sea of Reeds and are about the receive the Ten Commandments. (That momentous occasion *does* occur in our Torah portion as well, but I decided to focus on something else this time around...) Our text begins with Moses receiving a visitor. His father-in-law, Yitro, comes from the land of Midian, bringing with him Moses' wife and two sons. While there, Yitro sees Moses presiding over every legal dispute and question that any Israelite may bring up. And he strongly encourages him to instead appoint various levels of judges, to essentially create a hierarchy of lower courts, appellate courts, a supreme court... and MOSES. The last thing Yitro says to Moses is that this new-and-improved system will be easier for everyone, and adds, "[if you do this,] you will be able to endure, and all these people too will return to their homes in peace." (Ex. 18:23)
Initially, I just passed over this verse and kept reading. But I glanced at the Hebrew, and noticed something familiar. The phrase about people returning home in peace reminded me of something else, so I looked it up. Sure enough, our ancient rabbis "borrowed" this sentence for a surprisingly different purpose. When I officiate at funerals, and we have finished lowering the casket into the grave, it is customary to say "Al Mekomo Yavo v'Shalom," which is exactly the same statement in our text. I find this fascinating, because the expression is being repurposed in a clever way. At some point in Jewish history, our ancestors began using the word "Makom," which literally means Place/Spot/Location, as a euphemism for God. When someone dies, we console them by saying: "Ha-MAKOM Yinachem Etchem..." - "May God comfort you..." Again, we use the word "place" as another Name for the Divine; perhaps imagining that God is the *ultimate* place; the home to Which (or Whom) we all return after death.
It just intrigues me that this text about judicial proceedings - and about people returning back to their tents after receiving a verdict from Moses or one of the other newly-appointed judges - was seen as a good candidate for a burial rite at the graveside. It is not, by the way, unusual for the rabbis to extract new meanings from Biblical texts. This is a good example of them mining the Tanach for recyclable material! Context was often less significant, and if a quote could be used in an entirely new way - as long as you weren't jumbling the words around and actually manipulating the meaning of the text. If the phrase reads correctly, then by all means interpret it to connote something *completely* different. To me, this is one of the truly beautiful features of our ancient texts. It creates layers upon layers of meaning; constantly shifting as time passes. What the text comes to mean for one generation may be entirely different from the previous generation, the one before that, and countless others before that. It makes our ancient texts come alive, and invites us to scour the text for our own meaningful passages, regardless of what it used to mean to our forbearers. I think it is a subtle, but fantastic aspect of our heritage... and you can quote me on that!
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