Beha'alōsekho and Nourishment / בהעלתך און נערונג

This is a weekly series

of parsha dvarim written by a frum, atheist, transsexual anarchist. It's crucial in these times that we resist the narrative that Zionism owns Judaism. Our texts are rich—sometimes opaque, but absolutely teeming with wisdom and fierce debate. It's the work of each generation to extricate meaning from our cultural and religious inheritance. I aim to offer comment which is true to the source material (i.e. doesn't invert or invent meaning to make us more comfortable) and uses Torah like a light to reflect on our modern times.

This parsha is an important piece of my parnosa (income), and the full dvar is paywalled for four weeks to help me sustain my work as a writer. But it's important to me that anyone can access Yiddishkeyt—if you can't afford to subscribe, email me and I'll send you the link for free.

An appeal

My friend Kamal needs help to leave Gaza. He is trying to immigrate to Greece to search for his missing son, who in desperation took a small and dangerous lifeboat across the Mediterranean. Please donate what you can.

Content note

Mentions of hunger, racism, and disease

Parsha summary

Beha'alōsekho means "when you mount", referring to installing the menorah in the Mishkon. It's a parsha dense with narrative.

The Leyvis are purified for service in the Mishkon and presented as an offering from the Jews to Hashem, taking the place of the first-born sons. Those who were ritually impure during Peysakh are given Peysakh Sheni ("Second Peysakh") in order to make the Peysakh offerings. We're instructed to create two silver trumpets, blown by the Kohanim to assemble the leaders, the military, or the entire community; to instruct the camp to move; and to celebrate festivals and Rosh Khōdesh (the new moon).

The people wander and complain about the lack of food, angering Hashem. In my opinion, this is the richest poetry in the parsha.

Finally, Miriam and Ahron speak badly against their brother Moishe because he intermarries. Today this slander is commonly understood as being motivated by racism and xenophobia, and Miriam is punished by Hashem with tsraas. These lines are the basis for our laws on loshn-hore ("evil tongue", or harmful gossip). Loshn-hore is one of the prevailing social ills on the left: it tears down our most dedicated people, stops us from fostering trust and community, and thus precludes us from organizing effectively.

The issue of gossip and its role in community harm vs. community care warrants its own essay, which I intend to write soon. But this week I want to focus on the poetic, the theological questions of Hashem's presence, and anarchism as prophesy actualized.

Mana

Tōrah reminds us of the cloud which directs them, and fire that burns over the Mishkon each night. The Jews begin wandering out of the desert wilderness.

When the Ark was to set out, Moses would say: Advance, O Hashem! May Your enemies be scattered, and may Your foes flee before You! And when it halted, he would say: Return, O Hashem, You who are Israel’s myriads of thousands! (Bmidbar 10:35–36)

The people complain. Hashem makes a (different, dangerous) fire break out on the outskirts of the camp. The people cry out to Moishe. Moishe prays and the fire dies down. The people complain about the mana—the magical non-food nourishment which descends from the sky with the morning dew—longing for the meat, garlic, cucumbers, melons, onions, and leeks from Mitsrayim. Why is the mana unsatisfying? The Rabbis offer some ideas: the mana tastes of other foods, but not the five mentioned; or the mana tastes of all foods, but lacks the textures of those mentioned. I've also heard that perhaps the mana is flavorless, or that eating mana is physically painful because we don't digest it but absorb it directly into our bones.

What is it about food that nourishes us?

The wandering Jews had biological sustenance, and they had community, but they were still dissatisfied. Food represents so much more than fuel—it's culture, and it's home.