In this week’s parashah the sense of Deuteronomy’s perspective – different from that of Exodus, Leviticus and Numbers – is noticeable. In the last third of the reading, as we read according to the Triennial Cycle, there is evidence of an ancient division among our people.
אֵ֠לֶּה יַֽעַמְד֞וּ לְבָרֵ֤ךְ אֶת־הָעָם֙ עַל־הַ֣ר גְּרִזִ֔ים בְּעׇבְרְכֶ֖ם אֶת־הַיַּרְדֵּ֑ן שִׁמְעוֹן֙ וְלֵוִ֣י וִֽיהוּדָ֔ה וְיִשָּׂשכָ֖ר וְיוֹסֵ֥ף וּבִנְיָמִֽן
After you have crossed the Jordan, the following shall stand on Mount Gerizim when the blessing for the people is spoken: Simeon, Levi, Judah, Issachar, Joseph, and Benjamin;
וְאֵ֛לֶּה יַֽעַמְד֥וּ עַל־הַקְּלָלָ֖ה בְּהַ֣ר עֵיבָ֑ל רְאוּבֵן֙ גָּ֣ד וְאָשֵׁ֔ר וּזְבוּלֻ֖ן דָּ֥ן וְנַפְתָּלִֽי
and for the curse, the following shall stand on Mount Ebal: Reuben, Gad, Asher, Zebulun, Dan, and Naphtali;
וְעָנ֣וּ הַלְוִיִּ֗ם וְאָ֥מְר֛וּ אֶל־כׇּל־אִ֥ישׁ יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל ק֥וֹל רָֽם
the Levites shall then speak in a loud voice to all the people of Israel
(Deut 26.12-15)
Modern scholarship notes that Mt Ebal and Mt Gerizim are adjacent to the ancient city of Sh’khem (called Nablus in Arabic because the Romans called it the Napoli of the Middle East, but that’s a different story). Upon consideration that at this time that the Torah is being finalized by our ancestors as the key to understanding the will of HaShem for the Jewish people, the picture of half of our people situated on one mountain and half on the other is significant.
Two Jews, three opinions. 600,000 Jews (the traditional number who stood at Sinai) are not all going to agree. This vision of our people is not neutral, though; it’s not milk and meat, or matzah and bread – each good in its own time and place. This vision places half of us on a mountain associated with blessing, and half on a mountain associated with curse.
It’s not a coincidence that for Samaritan Jews, Mt Gerizim is the appropriate place for ritual and prayer even unto this day. It’s quite possible that the first, or at least an earlier, place understood to be “the place Hashem will choose to establish the Holy Name” was not Jerusalem but Sh’khem, not Mt. Zion but Mt. Gerizim.
How, then, does it become the mountain that symbolizes the curse placed on those who do not follow HaShem with full loyalty? Only because they are not the ones who get to tell the story. Deuteronomy is written by Judeans, not Samaritans. We’ll never know what lies behind the disagreements that caused the schism between the two. Only tantalizing trances are left behind, such as the fact that the name Korakh is associated with the giving of the Torah in the Samaritan tradition (Samaritan Ten Words).
(For more on the Samaritan version of the Torah, see Samaritan Torah)
During this time of year we stand on both mountains, blessing and curse: the blessings of Jewish tradition that guide us to order our days with meaning and purpose, and the curse of the anxious times we must cope with. Our thoughtful study of Torah can help us remember that no story that we know is complete without consideration of all that we do not know. And Mt Gerizim still stands today as a reminder to those who remember: we have never been All One People, and it is inevitable that we will disagree. The ongoing challenge to us all, separately and as a community, is whether we can come to see connectedness as more important than agreement.
Did we have to split in half, a northern kingdom of Israel and a southern kingdom of Judah? Did we have to rule each other out, as Samaritans (Shomronim) and Judeans (Yehudim)? Can we do better, and find a way to co-exist, rather the way that those of us who prefer Torah Study co-exist with those of us who prefer prayer?
In the 1980s you could participate in a tourist visit to Mt Gerizim to watch the Samaritans celebrate Pesakh, which they still do in the original way: by gathering all together in their holy place, slaughtering a lamb, and celebrating the exodus from Egypt. These days Jews are curious, even wistful, about those old traditions that we used to do too; hey, they’re really cousins of ours, after all, we say now.
And they always have been. So why did we ever think we should rule each other out? When we did so, we lost part of ourselves. Wouldn’t it be better to understand, to accept and to celebrate that we are a multivalent, gloriously diverse people? Like milk and meat, like matzah and bread, each is good in its own way and in its own place.
May Elul be a time for contemplating where you belong, and remembering that, as another great teacher has said, it’s always best to hold hands, and walk out into the world together.
Torah for the 21st Century by Rabbi Ariel Stone 