Parshat B’haalotcha – June 13, 2025 / 17 Sivan 5785

They were walking for the lives of the hostages. They were peacefully calling for the release of those still remaining in captivity by Hamas. They were mostly in their 50’s-80’s. One of them was a survivor of the holocaust. They were in Boulder Colorado. A depraved man sprayed them with fire. He burned them; not just for standing up for the release of Israelis held hostage, but let’s say this part aloud. He burned them for being “zionists,” the new deafening dog whistle for…Jewish. This happened less than 2 weeks ago on Erev Shavuot, when we celebrated the receiving of our Torah.

Let’s make no mistake, the book we are currently reading in the Torah, Bamidbar…its meaning is how so many feel…in the desert; confused and directionless, wandering in a morally and ethically arid environment. Is this the desert of the modern American Jewish experience? After the murder of two young souls in Washington DC, quickly followed by the terrorist attack in Boulder, our environment feels more dangerous than a parched desert climate. It can appear as if there exist active and prowling predators in this desert…All of this with no vegetation for us to seek shelter behind or underneath. The sun is beating down on American Judaism, and where are the branches, so full of life and growth, to protect us from the harmful rays of hatred?

This week’s parsha is no accident. I see it right from the beginning as a call for us to take back fire. Fire is not a weapon to be used against us, but a holy thing. Right at the beginning of Parsha B’haalot’cha, God tells Moses to let Aaron know that the Menorah in the tabernacle must be raised up and ignited. Not only must Aaron light the menorah, but the lamps of the menorah must cast light toward the face. The bright branches of the Menorah are designed to illuminate toward its central stem…the Menorah, which was commanded to be made out of one piece of solid gold, is to be illuminated by its own branches. There are times when we, as a Jewish people must take more nebulous or difficult-to-unpack commandments to heart. This feels like one of those times. If we cannot find proper light in the greater world, or if fire that is meant to give off holy light is used to harm us, we must set our souls’ lights upon one another, upon our greater Jewish community. If we are walking in the desert with no lush branches to protect us, we must be the branches. We must look out for one another, and be a shelter for our people when it feels as if we are in a sandstorm with no indication of reprieve. Again, the menorah is made of one piece of gold. We, the people of Israel, are one people. Yes, we branch off, and we live our individual lives. We have our own stresses, our own anxieties, our own unique journeys. But at the end of the day, we are that piece of hammered gold, we are ultimately extensions of Echad, of Oneness.

Later in this Torah portion, the people of Israel complain in the desert. They send Moses to the edge of what he is able to emotionally and spiritually tolerate. They long to go back to Egypt. At least in Egypt, the place of Mitzrayim, of narrowness and constraint, there was some illusion of comfort. There was fish, garlic, and leeks. This desert is unforgiving, the daily manna has become tiresome. We just want to be comfortable. Is that really so bad…to long for a time and place of consolation? We might feel now a bit like the people of Israel at this important juncture. How easy would it be to simply stop tending to the Jewish fires burning in our souls. To be afraid and just plain fed up with the news of targeted Jews, murdered Jews, burned Jews. This is the time for resolve, not a time for a return to narrowness. Being Jewish is a holy responsibility…an eternal covenant with God. The greater the number of days that we continue to elevate the light of the menorah for holy purpose, the more we drive the fire of hatred out of our lives. We CAN fight fire with fire. We can extinguish the flames of hate with the holy light that emanates from the fires of our ancient calling.

Our Torah tells us, “do not hate your brother in your heart, and to love your neighbor or fellow as yourself–V’ahavta l’reiacha Camocha” Many people are having current trouble with these sections of Torah. “Achicha” means your brother, or your kin. “Reiacha” can mean friend, fellow, maybe neighbor. Jews are often criticized for being loyal to other Jews, for being insular. I call tonight for our Non-Jewish allies to take a stand with us against antisemitism and Jewish hate. Prove to be our brothers, our sisters and our siblings. Show us that you are our fellows, our friends, our neighbors. We, as Jews, are commanded to love our brothers, our sisters, our siblings, our friends, our neighbors and fellows. We are commanded not to be grudge-holders. Reach out your hand, and we will ours.

Our Torah portion proves our ability to forgive and reach out. This week, Miriam is stricken with tzaraat, with leprosy, for engaging in negative talk and behavior toward her brother Moses’ wife. Moses does not only forgive his sister, but he quickly prays for her healing. Our famous plea for healing: “El nah f’rah na lah- O God. Please heal her!” comes toward the end of our portion this week. We can love and forgive and pray for the wellbeing of our brothers, sisters, siblings, friends and neighbors. What we cannot accept is silence from our friends and neighbors, or apathy from our siblings. We have been attacked and wounded, and we could use the support of the world.

We could use it, but we do not need it. We will endure. We wander the deserts of Washington DC, of Boulder, of the entire difficult desert of American Judaism. We are a family, a menorah of beaten work, and we will protect and send light in abundance to our center. Stand with us against Jewish hatred in America and around the world. We invite you not to use faulty fire against us, but to light the menorah with us. Speak up loudly in support. Condemn Jewish hatred quickly and assertively The more light the better.

I know that the sun has not set on American Judaism. Even if it feels dark, we remember that sundown is the beginning of our Jewish day. Kindle the flames with us. Help us light the way through the current desert toward an oasis of understanding, support, and the love we are commanded to share with one another. We continue walking for their lives, and for our lives…no matter the heat.

Shabbat Shalom

– Rabbi Josh Gray