This past week’s parashah (torah portion) Korah is famous for the rebellion that takes place in its opening verses: Korah is the name of a dissatisfied Levite tribesman who feels that too much power has accrued in the hands of Moses and Aaron, and therefore seeks more power for himself. (I discussed it extensively in my Yom Kippur sermon this year.)
The Hasidic (mystical revivalist Jewish movement) rabbis of the eighteenth century, however, picked up on a different theme in the parshah, perhaps relevant to our own lives. Rabbi Tzvi Elimelech Spira of Dinov picked up on the phrase avodat matanah — service as gift — later in the parashah (Numbers 18:6-7) in reference to those who had the responsibility of tending to the mishkan, the portable sanctuary that served as the marker of the Divine presence residing in the midst of the Israelites as they travelled in the wilderness together towards the promised land. The opportunity to serve in this capacity matanah, was a gift; a blessing.
This is in contrast, Rabbi Tzvi Elimelech notes, to a different phrase in a different portion of the Torah describing, essentially, the exact same duties. In Numbers 4:47 when describing essentially the same task of tending to the portable sanctuary, carrying it from place to place, the phrase is not avodat matanah, service as gift, but avodat avodah, which he translates to “service as burden.”
So under one perspective the work of tending to the sanctuary to house the Divine presence can be thought of as an opportunity, a gift; and under a different perspective, the same duties, same responsibilities, can be thought of as burdens, hardships.
This resonates with the human experience, doesn’t it? We often find ourselves called to act in certain hard ways—with respect to our society, with respect to our families, with respect to our work. We can look at these responsibilities as burdens or we can look at them as opportunities to bring holiness into the world.
Of course, easier said than done, right? If shifting mindsets were as easy as that, we wouldn’t have to encourage it.
Hasidic rebbes understood having a healthy mindset itself as being a gift from God—that being able to align ones’ self with a healthy motivation was hard and that being able to do so was in and of itself a gift from God, and one to be grateful for.
So Hasidic rebbes both urged that we see our work, our service, our duties and responsibilities as gifts and urged us to see the ability to see those responsibilities as gifts as a gift in and of itself.
We have a lot to be thankful for. No matter how filled with pitfalls, burdens the world is, there is a lot present that is a gift.
Still, yet again we find ourselves sifting through reports of gun violence in our communities this week, painfully ironically on the Fourth of July, the day we celebrate the founding of our country, most famously through the words of the Declaration of Independence that we are “endowed by [our] Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” It is hard to celebrate the purported unalienable right to life, when it seems to be treated so callously in this country, week in and week out.
As we know, in Highland Park, Illinois, a community that is over fifty percent Jewish, seven people were gunned down on the Fourth of July, including Kevin McCarthy, 37, and Irina McCarthy, 35, the parents of a two-year-old toddler, who is now orphaned. Four of the other five people who were killed are Katherine Goldstein, 64, Jacquelyn Sundheim, 63, Stephen Straus, 88, and Nicolas Toledo-Zaragoza, 78.
And of course, here in Philadelphia on the Fourth of July on the Benjamin Franklin Parkway, shots rang out scattering thousands and striking two police officers.
The simple idea of mass gatherings nowadays brings with it fears of violence.
Still, one of the ingredients of the recipes for change remains the same: voting, in election after election, and getting others to do so, at an overwhelming rate. Electing officeholders who in turn pass legislation, and hold the power to nominate and confirm judges, justices, and federal and state officials remains the most powerful way of effecting change. While progress is slow—it will take time to feel the effects of recently passed gun safety legislation, for example, and that in and of itself needs to be merely a first step—it is real. Given the obstacles our system presents to change, change does not come with victory in one election. Again, it requires sustained engagement, sustained advocacy and participation, in election after election, at an overwhelming rate.
To participate in this effort with your fellow synagogue members and as part of the multifaith coalition POWER, email your fellow congregant Wendy Greenspan to get involved with our Get Out The Vote effort.
