A Lonely God
It is all very well for the sidra to conclude, "I the Lord dwell in the midst of the Children of Israel." (Numbers 35:34) If only it were completely true.

He points the way to the Heavens and they are more interested in the Earth.



I think God must often feel lonely. It is not merely that He is HaShem Echad, the One, Unique God. It is not simply that by definition there is and must be an infinite distance between Creator and created, between King and subjects.


It is quite likely that despite people knowing that, in theory, He "dwells in the midst of the Children of Israel," they treat Him as if He didn't exist. He gives them a Torah and they don't want it. He shows them how to live and they prefer to take no notice. He points the way to the Heavens and they are more interested in the Earth. He represents conscience, but their choice is sensuality.


Forget the saying, "It's hard to be Jewish." It must be even harder to be God.


Out of Their Graves
Listing the 42 journeys of the Children of Israel after they left Egypt, the Torah says (Numbers 33:17), "They journeyed from Kiv'rot HaTa'avah' and encamped at Chatzerot." Geographically, these are merely the names of stopping places in the wilderness. Translated, the first name means "Graves of Desire" and the second means "Courtyards". Preachers have often discovered a link between them.


The idea is this: lust and sinfulness besmirch our character, take the meaning and purpose out of human life and symbolically bring us down to the grave. It is still possible, though, for us to repent, lift ourselves up out of a "virtual" grave (see the "Valley of Bones" story in Ezekiel 37) and live again in God's courts (see Psalms 84 and 92).


All Over Again
With this week's sidra we reach the end of the fourth Book of the Torah. It's exciting to complete a task, even the reading of a Biblical book. The declaration chazzak chazzak v'nitkhazek - "be strong, be strong, let us strength each other" - is a moment of celebration.


The first time you do it can never be forgotten - but how about the umpteenth time, when you have been a regular synagogue-goer all your life and you have been following the Torah reading for more years than you can remember? It is possible to say you're bored and it's all deja vu. But not if you are like one of my teachers whom I quote often.


He used to follow the Torah reading each year through the eyes of a different commentator. This year might have been his Ibn Ezra year, last year it could have been Rashi and next year it might be Samson Raphael Hirsch. He reached old age and presumably never ran out of commentators.


I must admit that though I try to follow his method, I do not always succeed, but I certainly find something new each year which I did not notice the year before. I call this the Ben Bag Bag way. At the end of chapter 5 of Pirkei Avot, Ben Bag Bag (the word "Bag" may be an abbreviation for Ben Ger, "the son of a proselyte") is quoted as saying, "Turn it (the Torah) and turn it again, for everything is in it; contemplate it, wax grey and old over it and do not stir from it, for you can have no better rule than this."


Every time we encounter a given verse or teaching, our circumstances have changed; we are different people and it is a different world. Every time we read a parasha we inevitably "turn it and turn it again", and it speaks to us with a new message.