OzTorah

What happened to Pinchas after the incident with Zimri and Kozbi?

We do not have long to wait for the Torah to tell us. In next week’s sidra, Mattot, we hear that there was a war with the Midianites, and Pinchas went with the Israelite forces as their army chaplain. The campaign was waged by “a thousand from every tribe, and Pinchas the son of Elazar the priest” (Num. 31:6).

Pinchas, says Rashi, echoing the sages (Sotah 43a), was meshu’ach milchamah – “the priest anointed for battle” (see Deut. 20:2).

This phrase illustrates the paradox that has haunted military chaplaincy throughout history: for how can religion, which believes that swords should be beaten into ploughshares (Isaiah 2:2-4, Micah 4:1-4), condone warfare to such an extent that it consciously anoints a priest to go with the armies?

The answer is that war is sometimes a tragic necessity, defence preparedness is essential to a nation, and a defence force needs a religious advisory arm to watch over the morality of its policies and the morale of its troops.

In Biblical times, the priest anointed for battle had the role of sustaining the spirits of the army, who, as the rabbis explained, fearing the cruelty of the enemy and the noise of the military machine, were in danger of losing their nerve and unable to concentrate out of worry about what was happening at home.

All this means that Pinchas not only has a place in the history of Israel but was the very first chaplain in military history.

Q. If a man has a hairpiece, would he also have to wear a kippah or hat?

A. Technically speaking, the head is covered if one wears a wig. This is helpful for a person who prefers not to wear a kippah whilst at work.

But in a Jewish context there is a problem of marit ayin – people’s perception – and a kippah or hat should be worn in order not to give the wrong impression. This applies particularly in the synagogue or when saying a b’rachah or davening.

The question is not new; Isaiah ben Avraham, who died in 1723, cites in his Ba’er Heitev on the Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chayyim 2:6) a ruling that “hair that is called ‘perruque’ is regarded as head covering, but because of marit ayin one should be careful if possible”.

The fast we observe that day is, according to the prophet Zechariah, one of four that commemorate the destruction of the city and the Temple.

In messianic times all four will change their character and “be to the House of Judah joy and gladness and cheerful seasons; therefore peace and truth shall you love” (Zech. 8:19).

It is one thing, and a most welcome one, to have faith that darkness will turn into light and sorrow into joy. But what is the connection with loving peace and truth?

It points to one of the two approaches to the destruction of the Temple – the external and the internal.

The external interpretation blames the enemy; the internal interpretation blames us ourselves.

Without excusing the enemy’s cruelty and savagery, the internal interpretation says that in a community in which truth and peace are not honoured there will be such social disintegration that the enemy will find it easier to enter and do its damage.

Conversely, if we raise the quality of our society we will achieve such inner strength that we can overcome any odds and find that no dream, even the rebuilding of the sanctuary, will be impossible.

Immense uncertainty surrounds the parah adumah, the Red Heifer (Num. 19).

The heifer’s ashes, combined with a mixture of other substances, were sprinkled upon a person who had become ritually impure, but the procedure had the paradoxical effect of rendering impure the kohen who performed the ritual.

How can one and the same substance do two contradictory things?

The Midrash Tanchuma on Parashat B’shallach offers an analogy. Three things, it tells us, led the Israelites to complain.

The incense was part of the required ritual, yet it caused the deaths of Aaron’s sons Nadav and Avihu. The Ark was an essential feature of worship, yet when Uzziah touched it, he was struck down (II Sam. 6:7). The rod was a legitimate symbol of authority, yet it brought the plagues upon Egypt.

When Israel brought these three complaints to God, says the Tanchuma, the Almighty said in reply: “The incense brought death – but it also brought atonement on Yom Kippur. The Ark brought tragedy – but it also brought blessing to Oved-Edom the Gittite in his battles. The rod brought problems – but it also enabled Moses to perform miracles.”

The message is that nothing is necessarily sacred in itself. It depends on the purpose for which it is used.

The parah adumah brings purity when the ministering kohen sincerely desires to help a fellow human being, but if he worries too much about his own dignity it can bring him problems.

Taken more broadly, this concept represents any human achievement, especially ideas. One person can use a great idea to bring healing and light: another person can use the same idea to bring destruction and harm.

What majesty and eloquence there is in Bilam’s words: Mah tovu ohalecha Yaakov, “How goodly are your tents, O Jacob: your dwelling-places, O Israel” (Num. 24:5).

We take this as the ultimate compliment to the Jewish people. We recite it on entering the synagogue. The composers vie with each other to express it musically. It gives us nachas and inspiration.

The strange fact is that Bilam never meant to utter these words at all. He intended to curse Israel, not to bless them.

Nobody was as surprised as Bilam himself when the curse turned to blessing in his mouth. Balak, king of Moab, who had hired Bilam, was disgusted and angry.

The sages were not of one mind in deciding how to regard Bilam. One view saw him as Bilam HaRasha, Bilam the Wicked; according to another, “There never arose philosophers amongst the nations like Bilam and Oenomaus of Gedera”.

Both hit upon the secrets of the Jew. Their intentions may have been malevolent, but they saw the truth. Bilam recognised two pillars of Judaism – the tent and dwelling-place, i.e. the home and synagogue. Oenomaus added “the school children chirping with their voices”.

We can learn from both when it comes to charting a Jewish destiny. Over and above everything else in a Jewish community, the truly crucial elements are homes, synagogues and schools. If they are strong and effective, nothing can stand in the way of Jewish future.