Can a woman forget her nursing child, not having compassion on    the son of the womb? Yes, they may forget, yet I will not forget you. Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of My hands;

These words are not from the parsha of Eikev, but from its accompanying haftorah, words by Isaiah, prophet of doom and of hope. Why quote them, rather than a text from Eikev itself? Well, as we know, all of the haftorot are, in one way or another, commentaries on their respective parshiyot. The seven haftorot of consolation which come just before Rosh Hashanah, however, are so profoundly linked they serve as continuations of the texts they follow on from. They are a fulfilment of the words of Moses. In much of Devarim he swings continually between promises of reward for good behaviour and warnings of dire punishment for bad. The descriptions of disaster and ruin are so heavy and detailed they augur ill for the future. And, with the benefit of painful hindsight, we know that disaster and ruin did come, not once, but repeatedly. Isaiah’s words of comfort, the promise that God will never completely forget His people, are, therefore, both poignant and vital to our sprit and survival. 

Eikev, and Va-etchanan before it, are rich with text, meaning and resonance. As they unfold, Moses gathers oratorical strength and purpose, like the first movement of a symphony, which sets in motion the sounds and echoes of the grand themes which will be picked up and developed in the following movements. Many of these themes resonate regularly for us in our services. prayers and blessing, particularly from the Shema, the Commandments, even from the Seder. Moses also continues to remind the people of the story to date, some of it good, but much of it embarrassingly bad, especially the episode of the golden calf. So let us return to Isaiah and thank God for His mercy. 

For God has comforted Zion. He has comforted all her waste places and had made her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like God’s garden. Joy and gladness will be found there, thanksgiving, and the voice of song. 

And let us remember to turn up on Saturday at 10:30, when Harvey Kurzfield will lead us away from disaster and ruin.

After all the rebellions and unrest Moses has recently suffered, he must have needed a good Shabbat. The number and intensity of the revolt has been enough to drive any leader to despair. First of all, the food is not good enough. Next, Aaron and Miriam complain. That must have been a real shock to their unassuming brother, who has consistently honoured both of them. Then the spies’ fearful reports provoke the people to turn against him and demand another leader. No sooner has Moses interceded yet again for them than they rebel the other way and insist on mounting an attack, despite Moses’ plea for them to remain still. And now Korach starts one of the most evil rebellions of all, clothed in the words of equality but, in fact, embodying envy, greed and the lust for power. Surely, the destruction of Korach and his fellow conspirators is enough, but no, the people begin to grouse again, this time claiming that Moses has “killed God’s people!” On this occasion, Aaron saves the people. Only a demonstration by God, who makes Aaron’s staff burst into leaf and blossom, puts an end to the spate of almost continuous revolt. We are not told how Moses, and Aaron and Miriam for that matter, spent their Shabbats, but the one that came after the Korach episode must have seemed particularly blessed. 

Unfortunately, the spirit of revolt is not completely quelled, and the next episode will lead to Moses and Aaron themselves losing the right to enter the promised land. The parsha of Chukkat does not end badly, however. The people finally discover courage and burst into song when they next come across water. There is also the little matter of the red heifer to consider, and to consider it more deeply, come along on Saturday at 10:30, when Pat Lipert will lead us once again. 

Kvetch, kvetch, kvetch… what is wrong with these people? Anyone would think that Jews were born to complain. Oh, perish the thought? The parsha of B’ha’alot’cha, though, seems full of it. On the one hand, Aaron is lighting the lamps of the Menorah – surely a wonder to behold. The Levites are purified and inaugurated into service and some of the rules of Passover are given. On this occasion, some ask Moses a very reasonable question, not because of any ill feeling, but because they want to be allowed to prepare the Passover offering, but are concerned about their having become ritually unclean. The divine signs for moving and settling are described, more wondrous sights, surely awe inspiring, what with the cloud rising from the Tent and settling when the people were to come to rest. Yet the people complain and moan. On one occasion we are not even told what about, so we can assume it was some pretty heavy grouching about everything and nothing. Even Moses, who usually pleads on behalf of the people and begs God to be merciful, has had enough. Then Miriam and Aaron complain against their brother, who has showed no sign whatsoever of wishing to lord it over them, or over anyone else for that matter. 

Well, that was last week. This week, in Sh’lach L’cha, Moses sends out spies, who come back, all, except Joshua and Caleb, cowed and fearful from what they have seen. Then, there is another mighty bit of kvetching, matched only by the fear that leads the people to say that they would prefer to return to Egypt and slavery. They so easily forget that the God who delivered them from slavery can surely deliver them to a new land. I like to think that, had I been there, I would have joined Caleb and Joshua and shouted to the people to be stout of heart, to believe in themselves as they believe in God. But would I?

There is more in Sh’lach L’cha, and to hear and read it, to sing, pray and join in conversation, come along this Saturday at 10:30. Pat Lipert will lead us. 

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.