Compassion in the Wilderness:
Summer is for Numbers. Many of us may be counting right now the days until we get to return to a modicum of normal life (and how long we will be counting is still a mystery!). Just at the end of last month we finished counting the Omer, our people’s journey to receiving the Torah. We are used to counting for a minyan, and yet now physical distancing challenges our rituals and life rhythms. And many of us have been “counting” on summer experiences and vacations that have had to be canceled or significantly altered. So, what is it that we can truly “count on?”
Hazzan Matt recalls that as a summer camp counselor at Camp Ramah in Canada, campers always would read from the book of Bamidbar – literally, “in the wilderness” – the part of the Torah most commonly referred to in pop culture as the Book of Numbers. The reason for this name is that the book begins with a census – a counting of the Israelite nation after they left Egypt. The campers always seemed to relate well to this book. Perhaps it was because the experience of summer camp feels like a little oasis in the wilderness. Perhaps it was because of the juicy stories in Bamidbar that are the stuff of a Netflix miniseries, which include magicians, surprise earthquakes, vigilante justice, and talking donkeys. But at a deeper level, the book remains relevant to anyone as the story of Jewish people struggling to move forward into uncharted territory – something we are very much feeling today.
In the book of Numbers, uncertainty can bring out the worst in people. The Israelites struggle with change and want their predictable lives back. They want the restaurant food and the creature comforts of Egypt. They complain bitterly to their leaders that this way of living is unsustainable, and they succumb to power politics and lustful appetites as a way of displacing their discomfort and fear. None of the leadership are immune – Moses strikes a rock in anger, Miriam makes racist comments, and Aaron struggles with his children. The whole people experience difficulty, uncertainty, and loss.
The end of the Israelite journey in the wilderness, as we know, is the Promised Land. But on the way, our wilderness journey exposed that we are all vulnerable. And this is perhaps one of our greatest spiritual learnings today: we are all vulnerable.
We are vulnerable. Our members are vulnerable. Our families are vulnerable. Our children are vulnerable. Our doctors and nurses are vulnerable. We, your clergy, are vulnerable. We are all vulnerable.
None of us is immune from the pandemic wilderness into which we are thrust. To pretend that there is no or little threat is irresponsible, a denial of interconnectedness and our moral interdependence, both of which are both scientifically grounded and spiritually core to Jewish faith and community.
We can never know, among our friends and relations, whose genetic makeup or physical condition will leave them susceptible to the ravages of the coronavirus, nor do we know who has family members that are especially vulnerable to this disease. We often do not know how people are coping with (or without) childcare, with financial worries, with mental and emotional overload. This pandemic should remind us that we are all vulnerable, and therefore our first response to uncertainty should be just this — compassion.
Rabbi Shai Held wrote recently regarding this pandemic: “Acknowledging our vulnerability can open the door to deeper and deeper levels of compassion and responsiveness to other people’s pain…Simple as it sounds, there is no more fundamental lesson about human life than this one – we need each other; and there is no greater religious commitment than this one – we are here for each other.”
We are really grateful for the volunteerism of so many who have stepped up over the past few months to help create more opportunities for mitzvot and compassion. We are grateful for the members of our Beth El community who are in the medical profession and are on the front lines, offering medical care and saving lives, often at risk to their own health. We’re grateful for the Caring Team, and especially the chair, Debbie Saferstein, who assisted us in reaching out via phone to our entire membership over the past few months. We’re grateful to new leaders who stepped up to join the COVID committee, which is evaluating how our synagogue can encourage best practices and offer worship, learning, and outreach under evolving conditions. We’re grateful to our new President, Sharon Merklin, who has partnered with us and convened a long-term planning committee to consider our deepest values and questions, so that we emerge from this wilderness moving towards the Promised Land. We’re grateful for the many congregants who have joined us for the dozens of services, classes, and meetings we have offered over Facebook Live and Zoom– we have appreciated connecting with you as much as you have enjoyed connecting with us and each other. And we’re grateful for all of the little and big acts of kindness that each of you are doing every day to be kinder and more compassionate with each other.
Uncertainty is hard — but it can, and should, encourage us to be compassionate, and to lean on each other. The Book of Numbers shows us the pitfalls of uncertainty – bitterness, lashing out, and striving for power and desire. We should learn well from our Torah’s warning, and know that the best counting we can do, and should encourage, is on each other. We bless you for a summer of kindness, of patience, of embracing life’s messiness. We are resilient, and we know that this experience will not just make us stronger as a community, but kinder as well.
Blessings, Rabbi Elyssa & Hazzan Matt