WHO IS A REAL LEADER?

The amazing speech we heard from the Prime Minister of Israel Netanyahu this week, delivering the most important message of strength and victory over our enemies in the House of US Congress, is related to this week’s Torah portion Pinchas.

G-d tells Moses that his time is coming, and He prepares him for his eventual passing:

G-d said to Moses, "Go up to this Mount Abarim and look at the land that I have given to the children of Israel. And when you have seen it, you too will be gathered to your people, just as Aaron your brother was.

Immediately following this conversation, Moses turns to G-d with a remarkable request.

Knowing that he will soon pass, he thinks only of his people. Moses asks G-d to appoint someone in his place who will lead them out and bring them in, so that the congregation of G-d will not be a leaderless flock. 

G-d grants Moses’ request:

"Take Joshua, a man of spirit, and you shall lay your hand upon him. And you will be able to present him before Eleazar the kohen and before the entire congregation, and you will command him in their presence. You shall bestow some of your majesty upon him so that all the congregation of the children of Israel will take heed.

Joshua, who has been Moses’ devoted student for decades, is designated as Moses’ successor.

But there is an incredible detail that is easily lost in translation and, even in the original Hebrew, is barely noticeable.

This is the only instance, in the entire history between G-d and Moses, where Moses addresses G-d with the voice of vayidaber! And that is in Pinchas:

Moses spoke to G-d, saying: "Let G-d, the God of spirits of all flesh, appoint a person over the congregation….”

175 times G-d speaks to Moses with boldness and finality, and only once in that entire time does Moses use that same audacious voice.

Why here? Why now? Throughout all these years, even in the heat of an argument with G-d, when Moses challenges G-d’s judgment of the Jewish people, he never resorts to speaking with harshness. Even if his message is bold, his voice is soft and beseeching, vayomer. What instigated Moses after decades of conversation, to finally demand something of G-d with a thundering voice, without reservation. Vayidaber! Never before, or after, would the Torah ever use this term.

The sages of the Midrash offer us one plausible explanation. For Moses, nothing was more important than his people, his spiritual children, and his flock. His entire life was dedicated solely to the Jewish people. He was prepared to give his life for them, to confront G-d on their behalf, no matter the personal cost.

When he learned that his tenure was coming to a close, that the nation he had nurtured since its inception was going to move on without him, Moses had one need that dominated everything else. Like a young dying mother who thinks only of what will be the fate of her children, Moses, the loyal shepherd had to ensure the Jewish people would not be orphaned and lost after his passing. He wanted to know that there would be someone who loved his people as he did, someone who was prepared to go to war for them, someone who could pay individual attention to each beautiful and unique soul, someone who would be able to carry the burden of leadership. 

So, Moses spoke with urgency and passion. The full gravity of Moses' love comes out in its full intensity. And that is why it is only here that Moses speaks “harshly,” as it were, to G-d. The matter is too dear to him. The awe usually reserved for His communication with G-d is overridden by his limitless affection and concern for his people. With the full force of his soul, he demanded of G-d, “Tell me, will you give them a leader or not!”

But is this enough? True, the moment called for urgency. But surely there were other moments of crises in the history of the Jewish people, moments where their survival hung in the balance. Enslaved and killed by the Egyptians, at the Golden Calf, at the sin of the spies, at the numerous rebellions that flared up throughout the forty-year desert trek, resulting often in catastrophe. At each juncture, Moses speaks to G-d and attempts to assuage the situation. Yet at no other moment does Moses resort to speaking with harshness, besides this one time.

And here, there is no confrontation. G-d does not dispute Moses’ request. Moses speaks, and G-d responds with a detailed instruction of how to initiate Joshua into the role of leader. It’s not like Moses must argue with G-d, as he did in other situations. Why the need for the harshness?

There is a deeper insight. It is hinted at in just a few words from one of the formidable halachic authorities, the Baal Haturim here notes the anomaly of this verse:

“There is no other verse like this in the Torah,” he says. And then he offers this cryptic statement. “It is as if Moses was saying to G-d: “Do You not recall how many times you said vayidaber to me?”

The straightforward way of understanding this is that Moses was calling in a favor. “G-d I have stood here and listened to you communicating with me with the full force, 175 times. I have never taken a day off or ignored any of your commands. Now I have just one request that, for me, is as important as all those commands. Appoint a leader who can care for every Jew.”

175 times full force to me in exchange for one.

However, it does not explain why Moses had to address G-d sternly more than any other moment.

A beautiful interpretation of this cryptic Baal Haturim was passed down through the Chassidic tradition.

This is the Jewish nation, a roiling cauldron of diversity and difference, with untold variations in feeling, intelligence, sensitivity, and openness.

And on the other end of the spectrum, we have the source of it all, G-d. G-d speaks the truth. “Hashem Elokim Emet!” G-d represents that which is true, unequivocal, and authentic.

The Torah speaks with directness, with force, with harshness. Not harshness in a negative sense, but harshness in the sense that this is true reality. You can’t deviate from reality if you do it will not work for long. Is the law of gravity harsh? Try jumping off a roof and you will see. Are the laws governing that which is underwater harsh? Try staying under the water for a few minutes and you will see. Are the laws governing fire harsh? Try putting your finger in the fire and you will see. G-d is the author of reality; His laws describe the truth and nothing but the truth. The laws of the Torah are more than laws; they are reality in its truest form. If a horse eats grass, he will consider it a wonderful dinner. If a person eats grass, he will get sick. It’s not a punishment; it’s the way our bodies work. I may be in the mood of being a horse but try convincing my DNA that I am not a human being; I am a horse.

Torah is not a book that imposes its laws on people; it is rather the blueprint of reality, it describes the truth of the human brain, and of the cosmos. When a bird jumps off a cliff, its wings will cause it to soar; if I jump off a cliff, it won’t be here. Reality has rules and structures, and I can’t defy them. The Torah delineates the laws and structures of spiritual reality. Some things are good for my body and soul even if I don’t perceive the truth now with my physical eyes, some things are unhealthy for my soul and body. I can be a diabetic and say, “I crave sugar.” But my craving will not change the truth that sugar is a killer for me.

The challenge now becomes obvious. How can the words of G-d in their pure, naked strength be communicated to a community of fallible human beings? How can the simple, direct, undifferentiated commands of the Torah find their way into the fractured hearts of millions of unique people?

Enter Moses. Moses is the grand translator for G-d and the Jewish people. His job is to take the radical authenticity and harshness of G-d’s command and make it relatable to his people. He knows the capacity and ability of each soul, he is aware of their individual stories, and he knows what each of them needs to be nourished by the Torah. So, he takes an uncompromising truth and communicates it to the people in a language close to them.

This is the deeper meaning of every communication from G-d to Moses described in the famous preface: “G-d spoke, dabber, to Moses, laymor, to say.” 

Moses takes the words said in harsh dibbur, the words spoken with overwhelming power, words that leave no room for the complexity and sensitivity of people who are often not ready to face reality, and with compassion transforms them into softness. Moses makes the word of G-d pliable so that it can illuminate the soul of every Jew where they are. Moses does not make compromises, but he knows how to speak to the individual. He can find the words that will draw a Jew close so that they hear an amira, soft speech.

That is why the word dibbur is related to the Hebrew word for bee, devorah. The bee possesses both the power to sting and to create honey; nature has given the bee the power to sting, to protect the beehive filled with honeycombs. The Torah can appear as a harsh sting, “dibur,” but it is the source that generates the sweetness of honey.

But now is the time for transition. Moses will pass on and a new leader will take the helm. But will the new leader be able to translate G-d’s dibbur into amirah? Will he have the wisdom, sensitivity, and compassion necessary to translate G-d’s absolute words into sweet speech? Will he be attuned to the unique situation of every Jew?

This is the meaning of Moses’ request to G-d. Moses said to G-d “Do You not recall how many times you said vayidaber to me?” Do you know how many times You spoke with dibbur, you spoke with authority, with sternness, with one blazing truth, and I translated it into amirah, with softness and kindness so that the people can assimilate Your word into their lived experience. What will happen now?

Moses wants a leader who appreciates the uniqueness of each person so that he can communicate truth to everyone with compassion and sensitivity.

G-d hears Moses’ concern, and has a stunning response:

"Take for yourself Joshua the son of Nun, a man of spirit, and you… shall bestow some of your majesty upon him…

Some of your majesty, but not all. The sages explained: Moses’ face shone like the sun, while Joshua’s shone like the moon. Indeed, G-d says, Joshua will be a faint reflection of Moses’ light. The sun shines with power, withholding nothing. G-d can reveal the full light of His will to Moses and Moses can then tailor it to the Jew. But Joshua is like the moon, the moon only reflects the light of the sun. G-d will not reveal the undiminished, brute power of His light to Joshua.

Here is where we come across a fascinating linguistic truth, usually overlooked. After Moses’ passing, the Tanach does not employ the harsh term when it comes to G-d.

It is a fascinating thing. The book of Joshua describes eleven communications between G-d and Joshua, each of them beginning with a soft commend.

Where did the incisive voice of G-d disappear to? Where is the immovable force of the law? Moses set a precedent, he made the word of G-d, the messages of the Torah, fully accessible to all. He irrevocably translated the harsh words of G-d to soft amirah, to sweetness.

After his passing, G-d will rarely use the term “dibbur.” Joshua, the new leader, will not have to transform, because after Moses, G-d will use the language of “vayomer.” Moses blazed a path forward for all of us; he is the one who “brought down” the word of G-d from heaven to earth, from the absolute heights of transcendence to the frail and mortal heart of mankind.

It was an encounter of two people from two ends of the Jewish spectrum that concluded with a momentous lesson. In 1981, Jewish cultural icon Theodore Bikel attended a farbrengen, a Hassidic gathering of the Rebbe. These festive occasions were moments of intense spiritual energy and rich intellectual inspiration. Thousands would gather at the iconic 770 Eastern Parkway in Brooklyn, New York, and there, the Rebbe would address a wide variety of topics, from dense Talmudic debates, and lessons from the weekly Torah portion to deep esoteric mystical teachings, and connect them to the challenges of modern Jewish life.

Theodore Bikel was the star of Fiddler on the Roof. Bikel grew up in a left-wing Socialist-Zionist family who lived by those same values. He was a staunch supporter of the Peace Now organization, advocating relinquishing Israel’s territory for promises of peace. The Rebbe, on the other hand, stood on the other side of the spectrum. To the Rebbe, the rejection of the central tenets of Jewish belief and practice by secular nationalism and Yiddish culture was a critical mistake. He repeatedly spoke out regarding Israel’s security, arguing that Jewish law prohibits giving up land because it would open the door to terrorism.

Much can be learned from the brief encounter the two had. At the Farbrengen, during a pause in the talking for singing and toasting l’chayim, Bikel approached the stage where the Rebbe sat in front of thousands of Hassidim, offering a toast. The Rebbe turned to him and said, “You are a kohen (a member of the priestly family).” Bikel acknowledged that and then Rebbe requested a blessing from him.

First, Bikel responded in English wishing the Rebbe health and good life. Sensing what the Rebbe intended, he recited the classical priestly blessing of Yevorechicha in Hebrew, to which the Rebbe said, “I hope you will be a worthy emissary of G-d, to give His blessings.” Bikel answered, “Yes,” and the Rebbe upped the ante, telling him, “It depends on you.” Bikel responded positively, and the Rebbe took it another step, encouraging him to give these blessings in a synagogue as well.

In this encounter, lasting less than 60 seconds, a powerful lesson can be learned from our interactions. The Rebbe was aware of the many fundamental differences in worldview and religious ideology between him and Bikel. Still, the Rebbe chose to focus on the unique quality that Bikel possessed and empower it, even challenging him to use it for good in the future. Here was the Rebbe, a man to whom thousands came for blessings and advice, asking a secular Jew for his blessing that only he could give because he was kohen. sending him the message that there is something special and unique about him that not even the Rebbe possessed.

The key to real communication is to acknowledge the unique contribution that each person brings to our world.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Yoseph Geisinsky