בס״ד
Pinchas
Kohanim are the heirs of Aaron,
With only a single exception,
Pinchas receives his “Covenant of Peace”,
Not by blood, but through pivotal action.
We’re taught only sons may inherit the Land,
A yerushah passed down from their fathers,
A waiver is claimed by b’nos Zelophehad,
What if daughters don’t have any brothers?
Rebbe Yishmael speaks about Klal u’Prat,
The particular limits the general,
As with Elazar’s son, and Zelophahad’s girls,
Once the paradigm’s set, it’s perennial.
בס״ד
Balak
Balak had no reason, Ramban points out,
He really had nothing to worry about,
We reached out in peace as we came near,
So what in the world did he have to fear?
We were many, and Moav was small,
That, in itself, shouldn’t matter at all,
HaShem had forbidden for us to attack,
The Children of Lot…but we could fight back.
Yet he called upon Bilaam, the Midianite,
With his koach hatuma, like Kryptonite,
To curse and defeat us, but Bilaam perceived,
Blessings, not curses, in the words he received.
It’s often the case, as we see in our time,
That those who oppose us, will often assign,
To us, the atrocities they have rehearsed,
If ,חו״ח, our roles were reversed. *
* chas v’chalila
בס״ד
Chukas
What is this Book of the Wars of HaShem?
It’s a mystery no one has solved,
To answer this riddle, our Rabbis and Sages,
Through the ages were deeply involved.
Were these simply stories the people would tell,
Or a book started by Avraham,
Or snippets from ballads our bards would bring,
Living history they’d sing with aplomb?
A record of things geographic/halachic,
Or a log long maintained by the Am,
Is “The Book of God’s Torah” really its name,
Dost allude to Shir shel Yam?
Is it simply a reference to Sefer Devarim,
Or a record of nations smitten,
A heavenly scroll that sits before God,
Or an untitled book, not yet written?
Ibn Ezra, Rashi, Targum Yerushalmi, Rambam,
Chizkuni, Rokeach, and Onkelos,
Midrash Agaddah, Ohr HaChaim, Ramban,
They’ve each something different to tell us.
בס״ד
Korach
He humbly held the high ground,
As Korach, of Kahath, accused,
‘Twernt enough to bear the kelim,
His ego had been bruised.
And many sons of Reuven,
Joined in Korach’s schism,
Since their status as b'chorim,
Had been passed to the Levi’im.
Bnai Yisrael watched in awe,
As Korach’s crowd was swallowed,
But then took up his charges, once again,
A deadly outbreak followed.
A Levi had brought this on them,
Aaron saved ‘em, in this instance,
So for Levi'im, now, an extra task,
To make sure they keep their distance.
בס״ד
Shelach
They had conquered everyone around,
yet balked at what was promised,
afraid of those whose time was up,
dared not battle for what was already theirs.
So, too, in our time, the same homeland,
that they feared to claim as their own,
we hesitate to call ours, before a scolding world,
afraid to recognize our own borders.
We can blast far removed targets,
we endure warheads of death,
unspeakable brutality, unrelenting lies and hate,
the heroic sacrifices of a courageous generation.
Yet, preferring to be strangers in our own land,
we even cede our Har Habayit,
and permit it to become,
a place for our enemies to lay their plots.
And Yehuda and Shomron,
Our heart, the heartland which cradled us,
Languish, orphaned, beyond an imaginary line,
A green smudge, recognized by no one, but ourselves.
בס״ד
Beha’aloscha
Revelations rarely last,
The present supersedes the past,
Eyes which once beheld a miracle,
Are now seduced by vision physical.
Did it really happen as is taught,
That He, from slaves, a nation brought,
From flaming forge, ejected dross,
Are we His people…or an albatross?
It only took a three day trek,
To hang ourselves around His neck,
Seeking pretexts, from our fears,
To raise an outcry to His ears.
O People, of short memory born,
Be not quick to feel forlorn,
’Twas not a dream, as if asleep,
Nay, a vision true, for us to keep.
בס״ד
Naso/Shavuos
The Voice, it speaks, and Moshe hears,
for us…
even if The Voice comes near,
are we e’re disposed to give it ear?
It wasn’t from The Voice, I fear,
the jealous husband brought her here,
to taste the bitter, murky brew,
her virtue, for to make it clear?
Though HaShem desires to bring us near,
is it The Voice the nazir hears,
when he chooses to eschew,
the many joys that make life dear?
We heard The Voice at Sinai, clear,
from atop the shrouded mountain, drear,
“keep your distance” The Voice declared,
“do not come too near!”
Should we be inclined to turn to voices,
to determine how to make our choices,
is it The Voice we think we hear,
or our own internal noises?
