This week’s Torah commentary, written by Hebrew Seminary rabbinical student Ezra Kiers, has been dedicated by Rabbi Eric Leiderman in honor of Ezra Kiers.
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“My money’s on the kids.”
I’ve been hearing this phrase for a long time. I’m not sure who said it first, but everyone who I’ve heard say this has been older than me. With this phrase, the implication is that young people are going to fix the problems that previous generations either created themselves or never fully fixed. They believe in the ability of the youth to learn and grow, and to make the world a better place. These intentions are empowering at face value, yet they beg the question: why can the elders not be a part of that change, too?
In Parashat Shelach, HaShem commands Moses to send agents to scout into the land of Canaan (Numbers 13:2). Specifically, Moses—on behalf of HaShem—asks the elders of the community, “Are the people who dwell in it strong or weak, few or many? Is the country in which they dwell good or bad? Are the towns they live in open or fortified? Is the soil rich or poor? Is it wooded or not?” (NJPS translation of Numbers 13:18–20). In essence, what Moses wants to know is: will our people survive there or not?
After 40 days, the scouts return with news that the people who already live in the Land are powerful and live in large, fortified cities (Num. 13:29). The Israelites cry out:
לוּ־מַתְנוּ בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרַיִם אוֹ בַּמִּדְבָּר הַזֶּה לוּ־מָתְנו… טוֹב לָנוּ שׁוּב מִצְרָיְמָה
If only we had died in the land of Egypt or if only we might die in this wilderness!… It would be better for us to go back to Egypt! (NJPS translation of Numbers 14:2–3.)
Now, I don’t know about y’all, but if I had recently escaped enslavement—even if it were years prior—I can’t imagine that I’d want to return to my former captors. So, what could possess our ancestors to make such a desperate plea to want to return to slavery in Egypt? What would make the Israelites believe that such a demoralized fate would be the right choice for the next generation?
Perhaps our ancestors saw Egypt as the lesser of two evils, a circumstance—though no doubt horrible—that was at least known. Maybe the Israelites’ will to live was stronger than their will to live well. Sometimes, it feels necessary to make a choice we wouldn’t otherwise make in order to survive. A contemporary example of this phenomenon recently occurred in Florida, where the parent of a teen chose to leave the state and become homeless. At first glance, one might ask why a parent would choose to remove a child from the safety of their own home to venture into the unknown. However, this parent, Kate, made this choice to protect her child, Kody, who is transgender. In light of the recent legislative measures being imposed upon LGBTQ+ folks in the state of Florida, Kate could no longer withstand the fear of watching her child “wither and possibly die.” The family also faced legal threat of having the child forcibly removed from the parent’s care, simply because the child is transgender.
Kate was forced to make the impossible decision that our ancestors were faced with in the desert. Do they stay in Egypt, where they know that a future is guaranteed for the next generation, even if it’s a painful and unjust one? Or, do they venture into the unknown, into Canaan, willing to risk it all to fight for something better? I’d like to say that I would have the utmost faith that HaShem and our community would keep me safe. However, if I were standing before the scouts all those years ago, I can’t say for certain that I wouldn’t consider turning back as well. At least in Egypt, we had a place to go. However, HaShem doesn’t agree with this logic. HaShem chose what Kate did: maybe it’s worth it to risk it all.
In response to the Israelites’ desperate cries, HaShem rules that nobody who experienced enslavement in Egypt can enter the promised land (Numbers 14:22–23). It is only the next generation, those born during our 40 years of wandering, who will carry our people into the promised land and establish our community freely and autonomously for the first time in our history. My question is: Why does HaShem punish those who arguably need the promise of safety the most? If HaShem is all-forgiving, why not forgive those who are reacting to this situation with what can only be described as a trauma response? Numbers chapter 14 suggests that HaShem’s command that only those born free can enter the promised land is determined on the basis of loyalty and faith.
Those who had escaped Egypt had perhaps only done so in body, but their minds remained in captivity. Because of the trauma that they endured at the hands of their Egyptian slavemasters, they didn’t have faith that HaShem truly could protect them in this new land. As such, HaShem didn’t have faith that they would be able to support our community’s survival. Faith and loyalty, in this case, are both two-way streets. In order for us to survive in this new and frightening land, we must have faith in and be loyal to HaShem; and we must trust that HaShem will have faith in, and be loyal to, us. While this could be true, I think there is another equally plausible explanation: HaShem’s money—so to speak—was on the kids.
Jewish tradition emphasizes ledor vador, the value of passing down values and traditions “from generation to generation.” We value elders teaching the youth about the experiences of the past, and youth teaching the elders new ways of thinking and existing in community. When we learn and grow intergenerationally, we can establish a more just and equitable future. That said, I’m positive that each and every one of us can recall a childhood memory of an adult saying or doing something that prompted us to think, “Wow, that was really outdated,” or “I’ll handle that differently with my child when I’m a parent.” Each new generation intuitively knows that the status quo is not necessarily the appropriate course of action. If it were, no community anywhere at any time would make any progress. Laws would never be amended, technology would never advance, and the most vulnerable and marginalized among us would never have a chance of being free. We would all still be in Egypt—if not in body, then certainly in mind.
So maybe HaShem only allowed the next generation to enter the promised land because they were the very people who could live up to the promise. That next generation was forward-thinking; they were self-determined and strong. They saw their predecessors buckle under the weight of their trauma, and they chose a different path. They allowed themselves the opportunity to begin healing and building a world that was—though imperfect—better. They were truly free–and so are we. We are the kids that our predecessors were betting on. The real question is: How do we act on this? The truth is, there is no ‘one size fits all’ answer, but there might be a common starting point. We Jews are known for our ability to argue, debate, and question. Many of us have heard the joke about two Jews with three opinions. In reality, it’s more like one Jew, seven questions. This is where our ancestors are going to get their money’s worth.
Tune into your surroundings and find one thing that you would name ‘normal.’ Do you see someone walking down the street? Do you hear cars driving by? It could be any totally average thing. Now find one thing that you’d name ‘abnormal’. Do you see someone wearing clothes or makeup that you think they shouldn’t be? Do you hear music sung in a language you don’t understand? Now ask yourself: Why? Why do I categorize some things as ‘normal’ and other things ‘odd?’ Why do I categorize people this way? Keep questioning, keep wondering, and do what you can to normalize more things and more people. For some of us, this means broadening our social media algorithm by searching for new ideas. For others, it could be reading books by new authors, downloading a language learning app, or making a mental note to find something complimentary about someone you might have judged harshly. It could be as simple as smiling at someone as you pass them on the street. By asking ourselves these tough questions and searching for their even tougher answers, we can take the first step toward building that better world so that those who come after us can keep renovating it and making it even better. And even though I do truly believe that each generation is capable of improving upon this work, at the end of the day, my money’s on the kids… and all of us, too.
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