While we have been in the desert for some time now, this is only the second week in the book of the desert. The common image of the desert,  or wilderness, is of somewhere formless, without clear contours, without regularity. Yet both the first two parshas contain passages of almost rigid uniformity, each reflecting the other. B’minbar starts with the census, first painstakingly enumerating the representative of each tribe and then giving the tally, tribe by tribe, in exactly the same language twelve times (Joseph being divided, of course, into Ephraim and Manasseh, while Levi is not included, at least not for now). The tribes are then divided, again uniformly, and allocated to the east, south, west and north, with the Levites in the centre, headed at the east, by Moses and Aaron. Then we have the census of the Levites, divided neatly among Gershon, Kehoth and Merari, the sons of Levi. B’midbar ends and Naso begins with the duties of each sub-tribe. 

There are other subjects in Naso, specifically purifying the camp, the suspected adulteress, the Nazirite and the beautiful priestly blessing. The parsha concludes, however, as a kind of reflection of the beginning of the previous parsha, this time enumerating the dedication offerings presented by the head of each tribe. Again, there is an exact repetition, although the order is slightly different. It does not exactly make for entertaining reading, but an important point is being made. Each tribe makes the same offering: silver bowl, silver basin filled with the best wheat and kneaded with oil, incense bowl filled with incense, bull, ram, sheep, goat, oxen, rams, more goats, more sheep – the same things in the same quantities. We learn by this that we all count, we all give, and we all respond to God’s call. And the Israelites are first taught this not while living in the relative harmony and order of a city, not even yet in a country. They learn it while living in an untamed, uncertain place to which, as passing nomads, they do not belong.

Come along this Saturday at 10:30, to pray, sing, read, learn more and to share. Adam, who will have been wandering all week with his student followers, will be home to lead us. 

One thing which ancient – and perhaps modern – Jews and Celts share is an attitude towards the land. Both peoples see the land as a space they occupy in the capacity of tenants, but which is owned by the divine. God says to the Israelites in B’har, “Since the land is Mine, no land shall be sold permanently. You are foreigners and resident aliens as far as I am concerned.” For the Celts, the land was divine in itself, occupied by spirits. Of course, such a conception of creation and of the divine is almost totally different from ours, although we also see God’s presence everywhere. It is, though, the similarity in the perceived perception of our status in relation to the land is something which marks us as different from peoples who see land simply as human property. Perhaps we are not such so strangely transplanted here as some might think. 

B’har deals with redemption both of land and of slaves. If we don’t fully own the land, how can we fully own one another?

This week we come to B’chukkotai, which prefigures much of D’varim in that it begins to summarise the gist of God’s message to His people: follow My commandments and good will ensue; disobey them and the consequences will be dire. There is, as there will be too in D’varim, the promise of forgiveness if we repent. “I will remember my covenant with Jacob as well as my covenant with Isaac and my covenant with Abraham.” This is not the end of the parsha, but to hear and read it, why not come along this Saturday at 10:30? Harvey Kurzfield will be there to bring us in harmony to the next stage in our journey. 

Next week, it’s the desert.

Chazak, Chazak, V’Nitzchazeik.