The discussion between Moses and the tribes of Reuven and Gad demonstrates some basic Jewish principles of social justice.
Last week I gave a sermon that stirred up quite a lot of conversation. You’ll remember that I urged you to engage in respectful conversation with your friends about issues that matter to you most. My point was that in a time when we have so many fundamental issues in front of us, we can’t afford to shy away from passionate conversations for fear of being impolite. Well, quite a lot of you reacted to that sermon. And I was actually really pleased because whether you agreed or disagreed with me, my sermon accomplished its goal of spurring conversation.
The responses all dealt with the difficulty of engaging in those passionate conversations. What they were essentially saying is: “Rabbi, I agree with you in principle because there are things I really care about and I want to share those concerns with others, but expressing those thoughts to others is really difficult because sometimes the conversation turns unpleasant; or because the person I’m trying to talk with knows too much or too little about the topic; or because the other person just sees the same facts differently than I do.” To those reactions I say: “I hear you!” I understand the difficulty of having those conversations. And as I said last week, I think there are a lot of good reasons why, in certain circumstances, it’s better to refrain.
That’s ok. I understand that there’s a real world that is messy. And perhaps I’m an idealist. I see that as part of my job. I’ve always been an idealist and I found a profession that affords me the opportunity to talk about ideals. I like to think of myself as what Mel Brooks called a “stand up philosopher.”[1]
I understand why people avoid arguments. But what I was really after was more fundamental than politics. I’m interested in the underlying ethical questions that inform our points of view. Last week I was deliberately non-specific about what those fundamental issues might be. So this week I’m going to throw out a question for you to think about and perhaps talk about. The question I have on my mind this week is “why should I care?” Why should I care about the wellbeing of other people? Why should I care if others have homes? Why should I care if others receive a basic education? Why should I care if others have jobs? …A livelihood? …Freedom? …decent health? Why should I be concerned about others, and what is the philosophical justification for that concern? I’d like to take a stab at that question by reflecting on this week’s Torah portion.
Parashat Mattot comes at the end of the book of Bamidbar. After 40 years of wandering and the passing of the slave generation, the people are preparing to cross the Jordan River and take possession of the land that God promised them. Once conquered, the land is to apportioned fairly to each tribe. Just as these preparations are underway, the tribes of Reuven and Gad approach Moses with a request and what ensues is a heated debate over some very fundamental issues.
At the beginning of chapter 32, the tribes of Reuven and Gad – who, we are told have a lot of cattle – asked Moshe for permission to settle outside Eretz Yisrael in the fertile grazing land east of the Jordan. Before they can even finish their sentence, Moses comes back at them with a harsh rebuke. The conversation that ensues is what educators call a teachable moment. The leaders of Reuven and Gad listen carefully and learn something important in the interaction. What I’d like to do is break down the conversation and perhaps glean some insights that can help us answer the question.
Moses’ first response (32:6) is “shall your brothers go out to battle while you stay here?” Moses immediately reminds Reuven and Gad that they are part of a larger family. There are not just individual clans or even tribes, but part of a people. Why should we care about others? Because in some sense we are part of a broad extended family, and as such we bear responsibility for others.
Moses’ next argument is very interesting. He essentially tells the tribesmen of Reuven and Gad that if they do not cross over the river with the rest of Israel, they will cause calamity to fall upon the people the way it did with the 12 spies. Just as the bad report of the spies caused despair to break out among the people, if Gad and Reuven refuse to go, morale will break down and everyone will refuse to go. So why should we care about others? Moses is saying to Reuven and Gad, you should care because your lack of unity with others breaks down the morale of society… in other words, you’ll bring us all down and you yourselves will not be immune from the collapse. Perhaps this is a utilitarian argument: we should care about others because our lives our interwoven (whether we see it or not). Moses is saying to them: your fate is bound up with theirs. Your success or failure is bound up with theirs. There are certain challenges in life that we share in common and can only be met when we work together to solve them… when some of us opt out, the entire undertaking falls apart.
Well, Reuven and Gad seem to backpedal a bit (or perhaps, as the commentators understand, they didn’t get a chance to finish their sentence) and they add (paraphrasing v. 16-17): “We just want to build corrals for our livestock and cities for our children; but, of course, we’ll help conquer the Land… in fact we’ll take up the front lines.” The response of the leaders of Reuven and Gad is equally informative for our question. They seem to be saying, “look, our prosperity doesn’t have to be at the cost of everyone else’s… we recognize that we have it pretty good; and, as such, we’re willing to make a bigger sacrifice… we’re willing to see to it that others get their share before we return to our land… and, in fact, by not taking our portion in the Land of Israel, there will be more for everyone else!” In other words, why should we care for others? Because by doing so we can actually make the situation better for us all. And those of us who have more, perhaps have a greater responsibility in making it happen.
Moses seems pretty satisfied with the tribes’ response, but he makes one subtle correction. Reuven and Gad had asked for land “to make corrals for our livestock and cities for our children.” In his response, Moses agrees to the deal but reverses the order. He says (v. 24), “build cities for your children and corrals for your flocks.” Rashi and others say that this reversal is subtle rebuke. Moses is saying to them that despite their willingness to fight for their people, their priorities are still out of order: Reuven and Gad care more for their cattle, says Rashi, than for their children. There is a moral hierarchy – people come first! Human beings are more important than property! Human beings – created in the image of God – who are reflections of God’s Spirit on this Earth – have immeasurable worth. Therefore every human being is entitled to dignity. It is a right that cannot be taken away! And the corollary to that is that human suffering (to the extent that it can be alleviated) is morally intolerable.
And related to this is my last point: When Moses responds to Reuven and Gad’s offer to join the rest of Israel, Moses makes an important addition. He says to them {paraphrasing}: “you’ll do this for your bretheren… but also for God.” In the space of 4 verses (20-23), Moses mentions God’s name 6 times. The traditional commentators all pick up on this. Moses is essentially saying to them, your loyalty to your fellow Israelites is good, but it isn’t enough. As the old Hebrew National ads used to say, “We answer to a Higher Authority.” Judaism recognizes that we cannot rely on human sympathy and altruism to sustain a just society. There is a singular source of universal morality that we religious people call God. Furthermore, a belief in God puts our lives into perspective. It serves as a reminder of where we came from and where we’re going. It puts into perspective what it means to live on a planet that was not of our own making. It puts into perspective our relationship to God’s other creatures. We are all born behind what the Philosopher John Rawls called a “veil of ignorance” – we don’t get to choose where we start out in life, so we should have a little humility and compassion for others when it turns out we were born on the 5-yard line.
Why should we care about others? Looking through the eyes of Parashat Mattot, we should care about others because we are part of an extended human family; because our fate is bound up with the fate of others; because by improving the lives of others we can improve our own situation; because every human being is deserving of dignity; and, because we are children of a moral God.
Now, I’m under no illusion that achieving these ideals is easy. As I mentioned last week, I want to believe that most of us would like to reach these ideals and that where we differ is with regard to how we get there. But as one of you recently told me: “ideals are like stars to a sailor – you will never touch them, but if you allow them to be your guide, you’ll find your destiny.”[2]
Shabbat Shalom.
[1] From History of the World: Part 1 (1981) – watch the clip
Unemployment Clerk (Bea Arthur): Occupation?
Comicus (Mel Brooks): Stand up philosopher.
Clerk: What?
Comicus: Stand up philosopher. I coalesce the vapor of human experience into a viable and logical comprehension.
Clerk: Oh, a bull**** artist!
[2] The original quote is from Carl Schurz (1829-1906): “Ideals are like stars: you will not succeed in touching them with your hands, but like the seafaring man on the ocean desert of waters, you choose them as your guides, and following them, you reach your destiny. Schurz served as a General in the Union Army during the Civil War, US Senator, and Secretary of the Interior. He is also known for saying: “My country, right or wrong; if right, to be kept right; and if wrong, to be set right.”
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