The sermon I tried to give.

There is much in this week’s portion. I wrote one sermon, and there are two more I could give. Do you want Door Number 1, Door Number 2 or Door Number Three?

Our story is about a journey. It starts with very familiar words, ones we just sang at the beginning of the Torah service:

“V’hi ben soa aron, v’yomer Moshe..kuma Adonai…And it came to pass, when the ark went forward, Moses said, Arise, Adonai.”

The object of this journey is to move forward. Then G-d will arise. G-d will rise up. G-d will be present. We are calling G-d to be present.

This portion is about the kind of community we want to create so that we move forward and G-d is present. But it isn’t always so easy. Those Israelites kvetch. They want to go back to Egypt. Back to what is familiar. Like leeks and cucumbers. And meat. And Moses is tired of listening to their kvetching. G-d tells him exactly what Jethro had told him back in Exodus. You can’t do this alone. Find 70 elders. 70 grey beards. Let them help you. Delegate. That’s part of leadership.

Let’s talk about what happens when Miriam and Aaron confront Moses. What is the issue here? They seem to be unhappy that Moses married a Cushite woman. Who is this Cushite woman? The daughter of a Midianite priest. So is the issue that this is an interfaith relationship? I don’t think so.

The text says that Moses was a humble man, more humble than anyone else. It is an important quality in a leader and one that often gets lost. As an act of humility, which then automatically negates the act of humility, I want to say that years ago, when taking a Bible comprehensive, this was the text I had to translate. And I did it wrong. I translated the verse as “Moses was humbled” as opposed to “Moses was humble” above all the men on the earth. I then spun it that Miriam and Aaron had humbled him with their comments. I was reading a midrash book at the time that could justify that reading. They lowered him by complaining about Zipporah. On that very translation, I flunked that exam.

Last week I made a mistake too. We were a little short on having a minyan. I told the shliach tzibbur to begin the Amidah with a silent one. Then I told him to start before everyone was done with their individual silent Amidah. This angered a member who thought that the shliach tzibbur did it on his own initiative Ordinarily, we allow everyone to finish. Almost everyone. Usually I start while Simon, my husband is still standing. That’s not fair to him. I explain before we start that this is your moment with G-d and to take as much time as you need. Later that evening, I did some research. Did you know that there are 7 acceptable, halachic ways to do a repetition of the Amidah? I was merely doing what I had seen done in another Conservative synagogue. In the process I violated our own established minhag hamakom, custom of the place, our place. And for that I am sorry. Truly sorry. So today, we will make sure everyone finishes their own individual Amidah before continuing. Everyone will get their private moment with G-d. That is part of the journey.

G-d punishes Miriam (but seemingly not Aaron) for speaking out about Moses. With some skin ailment that is white as snow. Why? Because it seems rather than going directly to Moses with whom she had a problem, she was engaging in “lashon hara” evil speech, tale bearing, gossip. This is a big sin in Judaism. Much of the sins that we proclaim on Yom Kippur have to do with not using our tongues wisely. And Miriam did not. So she is put outside the camp. For seven days. And Moses prays for her healing. With very simple (and effective) words. El na Refana La. Please G-d, please heal her. Teaching about the misheberach, our own prayer for healing is yet another sermon.

Only after Miriam is healed. And she is allowed back in the camp. Only then do the Israelites pick up and move forward. It is a journey. A journey of healing. Of completeness and wholeness. May it be so for this community as well. May we remember to guard our tongues. May we remember to treat others fairly. To not jump to conclusions. To not be afraid to admit when we don’t know. May we not long for the days of Egypt. May we not kvetch. May this be a place of wholeness and peace.