Parashat Beha’alotekha – 5785

A D’var Torah for Parashat Beha’alotekha

By Rabbi Inna Serebro-Litvack (AJR ’16)

When I was six years old, my father took me on a camping trip with his coworkers and their children. (In Russia this was considered to be a team building activity).

My favorite memories of that time include sitting around the campfire, listening to the singing (someone would always bring a guitar), baking potatoes in the coals and watching the flames shooting up in the dark. I was fascinated by the beauty and the variety of shades of orange, the sound of the burning wood, the smell, and the smoke that rose up to the heavens. I thought that the campfire was a beautiful thing!

A few years later I learned the hard way that a beautiful fire can also be very dangerous and bring horrific destruction.

Here is how I learned the lesson about the power of fire:

We used to live on the sixth floor of an apartment building. Because my parents worked long hours, I was home alone until evening. One day when I was in first grade, I came home from school and was doing my homework when I heard a familiar crackling sound. It was coming from the balcony adjacent to the living room. I ran over there to see what was going on and saw that flames consumed half of the balcony and were licking the windows. In those days we didn’t have our own telephone line. Terrified, I ran to the neighbor’s apartment because they had a phone. They called the fire department. While we were waiting, other neighbors appeared with buckets of water to begin putting out the fire.

Finally, the firefighters arrived and finished the job. I clearly remember the blackened frame of the balcony and the smell that remained for months.

It was a very scary experience and it took me quite a while to overcome the fear of coming home to an empty house, let alone sitting by a campfire! I realized I was lucky that the fire was put out in time and that I was not hurt and our apartment was unharmed but I was still very frightened at what could have occurred.

This memory lingers with me and I am frequently reminded of that awful experience because fires are a common occurrence. Every year fires erupt in various parts of the world demolishing neighborhoods, consuming forests, fields, homes and cherished possessions, and in some tragic events, it brings death.

Fire is a very powerful force. It can both help to sustain life and also bring it to an end.

In this week’s Torah portion, Beha’alotekha there are three verses which remind us of the destructive power of fire. We read in Numbers 11:1-3:

“The people sought a pretext that would be evil in God’s ears. God heard this and became angry. A fire from God broke out among them, consuming those at the extremity of the camp. The people cried out to Moses. Moses prayed to God, and the fire subsided. He named that place Tav’erah ‘blaze’ for a fire from God had broken out among them there.”

In the Torah we do encounter examples of the wrath of God, but this one leveraging the power of fire seems particularly cruel. Based on my own circumstances I personally have difficulty justifying this kind of punishment coming from the Omnipotent One.

Over the years commentators have tried to determine what “evil” caused God to be so angry. As in the case of Aaron’s sons, who were consumed by a “strange fire,” there is no definite conclusion as to the cause. Different interpretations abound. Rashi suggests it was the complaining of the Israelites that stirred God’s fury, while Seforno thought it was their lack of faith.

Seforno’s commentary reminds me of the dark period of human history during the Medieval Inquisition. It was during this time that “heretics” were burnt at the stake. As we know, many Jews among them were consumed by flames during the Spanish Inquisition.

Unfortunately, people quickly learned to harness the destructive power of fire, often using it to intimidate, kill and conquer.

In fact, in Jewish history fire has become a symbol of suffering. From the destruction of the 1st and 2nd Temples, to the Spanish Inquisition, the pogroms in Eastern Europe, to the Holocaust and ultimately to October 7, fire was the weapon used against Jews.

I still replay the images I saw with my own eyes of the burnt houses in the kibbutzim that were attacked by Hamas, as well as of the burnt cars near the site of Nova Festival which I visited with Amplify Israel Fellowship just one month after October 7.

These are the kinds of images that stay with you forever. And then the smell – so much worse than the one I remembered from my childhood – the smell that still lingered a month later. The stench filled our nostrils when our group was in Kibbutz Kfar Aza.

I think, as Jews, we are all suffering from collective PTSD brought on by fire. It is why, when we heard the news about Boulder, Colorado, we all gasped. Not that this was any more horrific than the killing of Yaron Lischinsky and Sarah Lynn Milgrim in Washington, DC just a week and a half prior, but it is that image of burning Jews – Jews who peacefully rallied to free the hostages from Hamas.

Just listen to the words of the Yiddish song “Es Brent” (“It is Burning”) by Mordecai Gebirtig:

It is burning, brothers, it is burning

Our poor little town is burning!

The tongues of fire have already

Swallowed the entire town…

Don’t just stand there, brothers,

With your arms folded.

Don’t just stand there, brothers,

Put out the fire, because our town is burning.

These lyrics have always haunted me. I keep asking myself, “Why, why do people stand with their folded hands as the fire burns their town?” I wonder how much longer the world will allow antisemitism to fester? How is it possible that here, even in the United States, we are no longer safe? And where is a unified public outcry? Why are so many silent to the suffering?

When I was leading our Shabbat service last Friday night, I especially focused on the interpretation of “Ahavat Olam” in the Reform Siddur Mishkan T’filah. Here are the words for you to ponder: “As you taught Torah to those whose names I bear, teach me Torah, too. Its mystery beckons, yet I struggle with its truth. You meant Torah for me – did you mean the struggle for me, too? Don’t let me struggle alone…”

I struggle with the Torah verses I quoted above. I also struggle with trying to understand why we, Jews, have to struggle alone. But if that is the case, then shouldn’t we unite our forces? Shouldn’t we stand up for ourselves?

Friends, it is time!

The average age of Jews who came out to rally in Boulder was sixty and older. These people had the courage to show the world that they stand with, and stand up for, their Jewish brethren in captivity while also demonstrating that they would not be intimidated by those who seek the destruction of the Jewish community.

But where is the young generation of American Jews? Why don’t we see them speak out for Israel, to stand for themselves? Is it the little voice that whispers to them, “it is not happening to me” that holds them back or is it the lack of courage. Perhaps it is apathy – or are all of the above the reasons?

All Jews should understand the severity of the situation, but it is up to those of us who realize how dire the situation is to take responsibility for encouraging the younger generation to speak up – before it is too late.

I believe this push back has to be conducted on the scale of the Civil Rights movement. We need to teach everyone to call out antisemitism in the workplace, on campuses, to write letters to government officials and come out in public support for Israel (not only during the annual New York City parade).

We all must refuse to be silent. We must refuse to stand with our hands folded. We must rekindle the Jewish spirit of resilience and responsibility here and now. And when we do, we will ignite the flame of solidarity – the flame that gives light and warmth and life. That flame guided our people through centuries of darkness.

Let us remember that fire can burn — but it can also illuminate. It can destroy — but it can also kindle hope. Together, we can ensure that the flames of hatred do not have the last word.

To the younger generation, I say this: we need you. We need your voices, your presence, your energy, your passion, your courage.

It was the courage and common effort of my neighbors who came to the rescue that saved me. Friends, the time is now. Don’t just stand there — help put out the fire.

_______________

Rabbi Cantor Inna Serebro-Litvak (AJR ’16) was born in St. Petersburg, Russia. She made aliyah to Israel with her entire family. There, she pursued her undergraduate studies at the Music Academy of Tel Aviv University. After graduating, she moved to the United States and enrolled at JTS Miller Cantorial School.

Rabbi Inna served as the cantor at Temple B’nai Or in Morristown, NJ and Temple Beth Am in Parsippany, NJ. While serving as the cantor at Temple Beth Am, she enrolled and completed her Rabbinic Ordination and Master’s Degree in Jewish Studies at AJR. Rabbi Inna is currently serving as the senior rabbi at Temple Shalom in Succasunna, NJ

Inna has a blog on The Times of Israel. You can read her articles (two of them were selected as Featured Post): https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/author/inna-serebro-litvak/