It seems an odd way to conclude the book of Bamidbar. The Parsha covers laws about oaths and vows, the request of the tribes of Reuven, Gad, and half of Menashe to settle on the other side of the Jordan, Moshe’s wrath at their request and his, perhaps timely comment
"ויאמר משה לבני גד ולבני ראובן האחיכם יבאו למלחמה ואתם תשבו פה"
“Are your brothers to go to war while you stay here?” The parsha continues with a list of places where the people stopped along the 40-year sojourn in the wilderness, the cities of refuge, and concludes with an episode about the daughters of Zelofchad. However, when thinking about the book of Bamidbar we understand that these parshiot provide an appropriate and edifying conclusion to the wilderness journey.
In traversing the geographical space from Egypt to Israel, the people are also navigating the contours and boundaries of their own individual and national identity. They are formulating a sustainable recipe for freedom. But freedom is a tricky concept to navigate. Sometimes, in order to attain freedom in the long term, we need to curtail our freedom in the short term. We need to thoroughly educate ourselves in what freedom is about and what it looks like. We need to ensure that in asking for ‘freedom’ we are requesting something more than unbridled desire. But how can this be achieved? How do you build a society that ensures individual liberty while maintaining responsibility toward the group? How do we navigate the path between individual rights and the survival of the nation? How do we manage boundaries and create group cohesion while promoting tolerance and inclusivity? How do we balance human autonomy with reverence for the transcendent?
These questions, though modern in their framing, are issues that our current book – Bamidbar - has been grappling with in its various narratives.
Bamidbar follows the trajectory of a slave nation released from oppression. Initially, they are granted what Isaiah Berlin termed "negative liberty” - liberty from external constraints. John Stuart Mill, in his essay "On Liberty," emphasized protecting the individual from the tyranny of the majority, advocating for individual rights and non-conformity. However, as we have witnessed in the last few decades, primarily in western democracies, this form of liberalism comes at a cost. When individuals prioritize their desires over societal needs, it can lead to a vacuous, narcissistic form of freedom.
Mill argued that a person should be free in their actions so long as they do not harm others. The dangers he warned of are evident in our history and in Bamidbar’s narratives - the Golden Calf, the complaints in chapter 11, and the story of the spies. Time and again, a dominant majority drowned out other voices. Mill's advocacy for the individual was justified, but his form of liberalism has long-term costs. Individuals who fail to nurture true liberty and instead become slaves to unrestrained desires will ignore societal or communal needs and values and hence what begins as freedom frequently ends as a vacuous form of self-worship.
True freedom requires a long journey to understand that emancipation is not just physical but also spiritual - an opportunity to be agents of change, growth, and goodness. Emancipation involves not only freedom from oppression but also the ability to shape one's own destiny and contribute positively to society.
In this guise we find that the final Parshiot in Bamidbar highlight two fundamental principles of positive liberty: the importance of a journey and the value of words. The list of places in Parshat Masei is not just a record of locations but a reminder that enlightenment and liberty is a life’s journey. Authentic experiences and growth come from engaging with the mundane journey of life, finding transcendent meaning in ordinary moments. The people must learn that freedom is found in the process, in the long and sometimes tedious walk through the wilderness.
Parshat Matot begins with laws of vows and oaths. On Yom Kippur, we start with the solemn prayer "Kol Nidre." What is its significance? Speech differentiates us from animals, allowing us to express feelings, hopes, and dreams. Speech can elevate us through prayer and kindness or destroy through shaming and cursing. It is a powerful tool for creation or destruction, making vows is a way to act on our words, the cornerstone of our liberty. A vow is future oriented. It imagines another reality other than the current one. When I make a vow, I affirm my freedom as a human being to commit to something in the future.
Speech is also about connection to others. It is the mechanism through which I translate my subjective experience into universal terms. It is the vehicle through which I turn outwards rather than remaining locked in the insularity of my own experience and existence. It is a call to the other. When words are used to connect and not weaponised for harm they mimic the Divine act of creation. It should not be surprising then that the book of Bamidbar, derived from the word "ledaber" (to speak), emphasizes speech as a primary motif.
The request of the two and half tribes to settle on the other side of the Jordan river, initially seen by Moshe as a move towards self-interest, proves instead to be a constructive demonstration of their commitment to the common mission. They prove that they can pursue what is beneficial to their needs without negating the common good. Their negotiation with Moshe shows a balance between individual desires and collective responsibilities. In many ways the story of the two and half tribes is emblematic of the new generation. They vow to fight with their brothers – affirming their freedom but at the same time committing to a collective cause and destiny that transcends their individual desires.
The final narrative addresses the counterclaim to the daughters of Zelofchad’s inheritance. Initially, the daughters’ claim was a positive example of individual rights against the majority. This time, a compromise is found that respects both the tribal concerns and the daughters’ rights. This seemingly anticlimactic legal narrative encapsulates the challenges of building a free society, showcasing how to argue constructively and nurture the common good without losing individual identity and rights. It represents a nation matured, ready for a common mission that respects individual claims but also affirms the centrality of a greater good – a firm example of positive liberty.
Today, the Jewish people are not what they once were. Preceding the enlightenment, peoplehood was comprised of a commitment to a religious halakhic lifestyle. It meant identifying with the rituals, traditions and lifestyle of your people and religion. In a post-enlightenment world identity has become far more fluid. We move location regularly and our loyalties waver depending on the moment. The definition of Jewish peoplehood is far more complex. But this does not mean we cannot construct a working model that would respect individual groups – each with their own particular definition of what being a Jew looks like, as long as there is a broad commitment and loyalty to the whole and its sustainable survival.
We started by quoting Moshe’s words to the two and half tribes who requested to stay on the other side of the Jordan and we end with the same words.
"ויאמר משה לבני גד ולבני ראובן האחיכם יבאו למלחמה ואתם תשבו פה"
“Are your brothers to go to war while you stay here?”
In so many ways this verse represents the quintessential Jewish value of responsibility. Like the diverse manifestations and groupings of Judaism today, each tribe had its own unique identity – its own flag, its own plot of land, its own characteristics. But if we fail to see beyond the contours of our particular identity towards a broader identity of peoplehood, we will have failed in our mandate of national survival and responsibility. If we are only concerned with our own needs and communal requirements, very soon we will find that there is no peoplehood or nation to belong to anymore. There is no greater lesson for this moment in Jewish history than these words of Moshe.
Whilst our brothers are dying on the battlefield as they fight for our survival and our national future, we all need to be asking ourselves what we are doing to further the communal and national needs of our people and not just our particular communities.
Shabbat Shalom
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