בס״ד
Maatos-Maaseh
Drive them out, destroy their altars,
Let their memory disappear,
Even that generation had not the heart,
Though the message was very clear.
Was it out of kindness, or neglect,
Or attachment to their gods,
Did exile seem unreal to us,
Did we think we’d beat the odds?
We are who we are today,
For what we did, and what we didn’t,
Our living past informs us “now”…
About what’s true, and what just isn’t.
בס״ד
Pinchas
Moshe ascends Ha’Avarim (העברים),
Which is “m’aiver” (מעבר) HaYardain,
The mount we know as Har Nevo,
Okay, so "what’s in a name?”.
The Kli Yakar has one answer,
Due to the “averah” (עבירה) Moshe does,
He was never “ovair” (עובר) to his children,
A share of who he was.
Aaron did a nicer job,
At least from what we read,
He taught his sons their holy tasks,
His mantle he bequeathed.
Is it preferred to scale that mountain,
And your people’s future delve,
Or to gift who you are to your loved ones,
Who must, like Pinchas, make themselves?
בס״ד
Balak
Are brachos based on what we see,
Or what we hope one day will be?
Are we different after being blessed,
Do we advance from good to best?
Does Bilaam see just who we are,
When he tries to curse us from afar?
Or was a vision sent to him,
Of a future when we’re freed from sin?
Do brachos bestow capabilities,
Providing for new possibilities?
Thus in directing Bilaam so,
A base was built, on which to grow?
But klalos, on the other hand,
Construct foundations made of sand,
Nothing placed thereon will last,
Like Bilaam, all those plans will crash.
בס״ד
Chukas
Give the man a break, HaShem,
So he gave the rock a whack,
All humans have their limits,
Even stone is known to crack.
And when it did, the floodgates opened,
A surge cascading like a river,
Contention, washed away for now,
By the waters of Meriva.
בס״ד
Korach
The sweet almond sprouts and matures,
Leaving bitterness behind,
The dusty brown staff, green once more,
New sap rising from shoresh to crown.
A cloud, not of mist,
But of snow-white blossoms,
Arises before the mishkan,
A spray of flowers.
Scented of milk, and honey,
The petals, falling like the munn,
Form an alabaster carpet,
Such that, though the rod be removed,
The fragrance lingers on.
