Vayomru im matza’nu chein b’einekha yutan et-ha’aretz
hazot la’avadekha la’achuzah, al ta’avireinu et haYardein.
Va’anachnu neichaleitz chushim lifnei b’nei Yisrael ad
asher im-havi’onum el-m’komot v’yashav tapeinu b’arei hamivtzar mopnei yoshvei
ha’aretz. Lo nashuv el-bateinu ad hitnacheil b’nei Yisrael ish nachlato.
And
they said, “If we have found favour in your eyes, let this land be given to
your servants as an inheritance; do not bring us across the Jordan.” (B’midbar
32:5)
We will arm ourselves swiftly before the children of Israel until we
will bring them into their place, and the will settle in the fortified cities
in the face of the inhabitants of the land. We will not return to our houses until
the children of Israel have inherited, each man his inheritance. (B’midbar
32:17-18)
Anyone who has
studied with me, even for a short time, knows that I teach interpretation of
Torah through personal perspective. Our understanding of Torah at age 15 is
different than our understanding at age 30, age 62, or age 97. It is different
when we are single or married, without children, parents of young children, or
empty nesters. It is different depending on our geography. Therefore it will
not be a surprise that, having just returned from Israel, as I write this, my
mind’s eye is still there.
At the end of
Mattot, the tribes of Reuven, of Gad, and part of Manasseh choose the land on
which they stand, rather than their portion on the western side of the Yarden. For
personal, familial and economic reasons, they choose not to settle across the
Jordan. Yet, they are no less connected to the land, its protection and
defense.
Those of us who
choose to live outside Israel live in much the same way. Our support for
Israel, the land and the state is unwavering, our desire to walk upon its soil no
less strong. However, in order to maintain this, we must also maintain a
physical connection to the land. It’s not enough to desire the land. It’s not
enough to support Israel financially and through rallies and speech. We must
walk the land. We must bring our children into it.
Three weeks
ago, we began our trip to Israel jet-lagged and in a heat wave (even for Israel
in July). Unbearably hot and exhausted, our daughter was not impressed with our
first day. She missed our cats and our air conditioning. She wanted to go home.
Fast forward two weeks- she said this to me, “Eema, I don’t want to leave. I
want to bring the cats, and Camp Ramah, and my friends here, but I don’t want
to leave.” What began as a foreign, if beloved from afar, land became home.
What changed? Sleep was good. Adjusting to the heat helped. But primarily, it
was walking the land, experiencing our history, hearing Hebrew, and living,
even if only for a few weeks, in a Jewish land.
Our first
Shabbat I had a fascinating discussion about Zionism. Yehoshua, a neighbour,
made the point that Israelis view the rest of us in Galut, Exile, whereas Jews
outside Israel generally see themselves in the Diaspora. When reading parashat
Mattot, this thought immediately returned to me. We are the children of Reuven,
of Gad, and of Manasseh. We have made our homes in the place that is right for
the moment, our chosen Diaspora. Still, our homeland, our inheritance, and our
future remain the land of our ancestors, the land of Israel.
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