This week, we have a double parasha, Matot and Masei. These two portions close out the book of Numbers. They cover a lot of ground (sometimes literally- Masei opens with a list of places we encamped in the wilderness while we were wandering around out there). There are rules about vows, cities of refuge, and serving in the army. Many of these sections are about managing relationships between people, especially in cases of conflict.
Speaking of conflict, what does god command us to do as we enter the land? Oh, yeah. Murder all the Midianite men, women, and boys; bring back Midianite girls as captives; burn down their cities; and take all their stuff. We don't completely follow orders at first - apparently the soldiers are not super keen on killing children and women - and Moses actually gets mad at us for allowing some boys and women to live. He tells us to go back and murder them too, despite his personal and our national ties to the people of Midian. (Numbers 31:1-20)
So we were supposed to commit genocide against people who were our neighbors and family, and we were rewarded for doing it. Even if that's how life was back then, I wouldn't want anyone alive today to emulate these attitudes or actions. Why are we still reading this? Here's what I think: specifically because it's disturbing. Because there's no justifying it or explaining it away. It's a time when we're unequivocally wrong, and it's so extreme that it draws my attention to big questions about my own (hopefully lesser) wrongs.
There's something valid in our fear upon entering the land. We're scared that we're going to be killed, or turned into something we're not. While I think our fears in the story may have been disproportionate, it's totally reasonable for me to view myself as worthy of protection, to reject assimilation, and to have big feelings when I might be in danger. The Torah text is showing me what might happen if those giant feelings turn into unfiltered giant actions.
It's okay for me to be afraid. But I cause harm when I allow the terms of my life to be dictated by fear, particularly fear of the unknown, fear of people who are different from me, fear of my own fragility. I cause harm when I reject uncomfortable reality. When I don't accept responsibility for my own life and actions. When I confuse the voice of fear for the voice of god, as I'd suggest the Israelites do here. And if there's one theme in these parshiot and these COVID times, it's the challenge of being in relationship. We're all in this together, living our messy human lives, and sometimes we don't get it right. Like it or not, there is no world where I am perfect and blameless, never causing any harm to anyone.
So what's the remedy? I think the text is reminding us that we have been causing harm since time immemorial. While we will never be perfect, we do have a responsibility to minimize the violence we inflict on others and ourselves. We have a responsibility to make amends when we're wrong, even and perhaps especially when there's no way to directly approach the person we've hurt. We can't undo genocide, but we can try to show up differently in the future. We can pay attention to our own reactions, and address problems before they become resentments. We can continue building our relationship with reality rather than getting swept away by erroneous perceptions. And as we do, I hope each of us is drawn closer and closer to the people around us, to life, to wholeness.