Call it Moses’ last stand. In parshat Nitzavim, Moses reminds Israel of the covenant they forged with God. It’s not just one community connecting to one God, though, but an affirmation of each individual’s relationship to the Divine and Divine law.
It begins with, “You stand this day, all of you, before your God יהוה —your tribal heads, your elders, and your officials, every householder in Israel, your children, your wives, even the stranger within your camp, from woodchopper to waterdrawer—to enter into the covenant of your God יהוה, which your God יהוה is concluding with you this day, with its sanctions”
In this list, Moses moves down the social hierarchy in order of social influence. Up top: Tribal heads, elders, officials, householders (that’s free men!), their children, their wives, then the strangers (those are the non-Jews who have come along for the desert journey).
Ranking in at the bottom: woodchoppers and waterdrawers. Based on knowledge of social roles in the ancient near east, biblical scholars agree that the woodchoppers were likely the male servants and the waterdrawers were the female ones.
Moses’ descending order is a hermaneutical tool. While it acknowledges the stratification of power, it ultimately delivers a message of equality. Everyone, no matter where they appear on the pyramid, has direct access to God and just as much obligation when it comes to fulfilling God’s commandments.
Reading this in the month of Elul, the month leading up the High Holy Days, drives home the feeling of intimacy that these days aim to evoke. The Lubuvacher rebbe, drawing on rabbinic tradition, explains that “the king's usual place is in the capital city, in the royal palace. Anyone wishing to approach the king must go through the appropriate channels in the palace bureaucracy and gain the approval of a succession of secretaries and ministers. He must journey to the capital and pass through the many gates, corridors and antechambers that lead to the throne room. His presentation must be meticulously prepared, and he must adhere to an exacting code of dress, speech and mannerism upon entering into the royal presence.
However, there are times when the king comes out to the fields outside the city. At such times, anyone can approach him; the king receives them all with a smiling face and a radiant countenance. The peasant behind his plow has access to the king in a manner unavailable to the highest ranking minister in the royal court when the king is in the palace. The month of Elul, says Rabbi Schneur Zalman, is when the king is in the field.”
Everyone matters and everyone has access, no matter how big or small, no matter their station in our community or our society.
There is one other way to look at woodchoppers and waterdrawers that I want to give to you as a pre-Rosh HaShanah gift.
Rabbi Bradley Artson offers some metaphors for how to read “woodcutter” and “waterdrawer” in the coming year. It has to do with how we treat others:
Woodcutters: I understand this term to be a metaphor for possible abuse in interpersonal relationships. How often do we see the person across from us, or beside us, as an object to cut down, prove wrong, or shape in the image we think they ought to be? This can happen within our families, synagogues and temples and places of business. Instead of chipping away at the edges to see what is truly beneath a person's exterior, we (often by accident) cut too much, creating scraps that are difficult to reassemble.
This pertains to our relationship with God as well. While our illustrious tradition certainly demands that we question (with passion!) God and other spiritual matters, do we sometimes go too far? Is it possible to dig so deep into that relationship and expect so much from that relationship, so that when no immediate gratification arrives, the relationship is tarnished?
Water Drawers: I understand this designation to be a metaphor for how we can see others as wells of inspiration, waiting for us to engage them, learn from them, be nourished and satiated by them, and to ultimately compliment one another. This suggests that our relationships go two ways. We give, and we receive (and the two are not always equal). There are limits, though. A well can dry up if one draws too much without replenishing it, offering something in return. But finding that balance is not so simple.
He asks us to consider: when are we woodchoppers? When are we water drawers? Each are actually quite powerful. In the coming year, we should be mindful of how we wield our axes and our buckets.
No matter the approach you take to this week’s Torah portion, the steady theme seems to be how powerful each of us is.
Elul, and soon enough, the High Holy Days, will propel us into 5785 with a sense of agency as well as accountability.
As we approach this sacred time, and perhaps the sacred presence of God that resides within it, may we be mindful of our words, constructive in our actions, and empowered to know the holiness already in our midst: it resides in our own hearts and minds and in those of our neighbors.
Ken y’hi ratzon.
No comments:
Post a Comment