October 7, the Draft, and Beha'alotcha
Who Really Belongs in Israel’s Army
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Last week the Knesset, Israel’s government, began the process of dissolving itself because the leading coalition dead-locked over a single question: must haredi yeshiva students serve in the Israel Defense Forces?
Reading Beha’alotcha during this week feels eerily on-point. Over and over the portion uses the word “tzavah”-- army. It first appears in God’s instructions to the Levites.
זֹ֖את אֲשֶׁ֣ר לַלְוִיִּ֑ם מִבֶּן֩ חָמֵ֨שׁ וְעֶשְׂרִ֤ים שָׁנָה֙ וָמַ֔עְלָה יָבוֹא֙ לִצְבֹ֣א צָבָ֔א בַּעֲבֹדַ֖ת אֹ֥הֶל מוֹעֵֽד׃
This is the rule for the Levites. From twenty-five years of age up they shall participate in the army, in service of (the sacred) Tent of Meeting; — Num. 8:24
Rashi, the great eleventh century commentator who clarifies the Torah, is strikingly silent here. I expected him to soften the phrase “litzvo tzavah”, as a hint to spiritual service, in support of the haredi perspective. Yet, he says nothing. Two chapters later the Torah uses the same root when it orders the rest of the nation to break camp “troop by troop” (10:14-16), and again Rashi is silent. Maybe it is because the question of our responsibility in a time of sovereignty in Israel was not alive for him – not a question that plagued his study of the text. So, the simple reading remains. The Levites joined the army.
As the Parsha continues, we are told how to march to war. First is Yehuda, the father of Jewish kings and father to most Jewish people alive today. Directly behind him comes Issachar and Zebulun, the brothers famed for their pact of study and commerce. These are the other two tribes whose names still resonate in Jewish discourse. We discuss boys that learn as Issachar and those that support their learning as Zebulun, and here the text is quite clear: all three must join the service of national defense.
I do not live in Israel, I am not a rabbi, I am just a lover of the Jewish people and Israel, and in this most difficult time the Torah message on this seems clear: A draft that exempts any tribe, Levi, Yehuda, Issachar or Zebulun is not in alignment with the unity the Torah presents as a prerequisite for victory.
But this was not the only way the Parsha was alive in current events this week.
October 7th in this week’s Parsha
Beha’alotcha does more than choreograph the march; it anticipates how Israel must answer an enemy breach:
“When war comes into your land, when an aggressor attacks you ( ki-tavo’u milchamah be’artz’chem al-ha-tzar ha-tzorer ), you shall sound the trumpets so that you may be remembered before the Lord your God and be delivered from your foes.” — Num. 10:9
On 7 October 2023 those words read less like an ancient decree and more like live reporting. Militants cut through the border fence, slaughtered civilians, and dragged hostages away. Aggressors in your land are no longer theoretical.
The Torah prescribes two responses:
Blow the trumpets. Literally, the silver ḥatzotzrot are sounded by the priests
Search the soul. The Alshich (Tzfat, 16-c.) hears the blasts as a summons to teshuvah: do not cry “woe is me”; ask what Heaven expects of you now.
The Parsha then records three consecutives sins committed by Jewish people in the desert, and God's punishment this week. Our task, the text seems to imply, is to audit ourselves before the trumpet’s echo fades.
In the next sections we will probe those three sins—and come back to the question of who must share the burden of defense—so that we may earn the promise of the verse that turns alarm into celebration:
“On your days of rejoicing—your festivals and new-moon offerings—you shall sound the trumpets over your sacrifices; they will serve as a memorial before your God.” — Num. 10:10
The first sin is almost invisible to the human eye.
The verse says, וַיְהִ֤י הָעָם֙ כְּמִתְאֹ֣נְנִ֔ים רַ֖ע בְּאׇזְנֵ֣י יְהֹוָ֑ה, the people were ke-mitʾonenim—like complainers—bad in the ears of the Lord” (Num 11:1).
The Alshich and others comment on the odd phrases, they were “like” complainers, and explain that the resentment never became audible; each person carried it inwardly. Outwardly the nation obeyed, but the service was joyless, all duty and no heart.
I cannot help but read about service with resentment, and think of the soldiers fighting in Israel today without their haredi brothers, who are avoiding the draft. Might they be serving now with only duty and no heart?
The second failure is louder, and it causes more destruction. וַיִּשְׁמַ֨ע מֹשֶׁ֜ה אֶת־הָעָ֗ם בֹּכֶה֙ לְמִשְׁפְּחֹתָ֔יו אִ֖ישׁ לְפֶ֣תַח אׇהֳל֑וֹ “Moses heard the people weeping, each family at the entrance of its own tent” (11:10). They wanted meat, they cried out, “please return us to Egypt where we could eat fish and cucumbers for free!”
The Ḥatam Sofer says a main issue with their sin is pointed to with the key phrase: ish le-petach ʾohalo, “each man at the doorway of his own tent.” The tears were private, not communal. They were crying for themselves, for their own struggles, and not for the struggles of their community.
Moshe tried at first to judge them favorably—perhaps they wanted proper sheḥitah for the quail—but as soon as they took a bite, “the meat was still between their teeth” (11:33) God saw their motivations and the punishment immediately began. It was appetite, not conscience.
Here, too, the mirror to modern Israel is sharp: when draft deferments are sought, is it truly for the wider good of the people, or is it for something motivated by improper desire.
The third sin, is the one that I must be careful with.“Miriam and Aaron spoke against Moses” (12:1). Alshich notices that the verb appears in the singular; Miriam, concerned for another woman’s dignity, led the criticism and Aaron followed. Her words were meant to help, yet uttered behind Moshe’s back they crossed the line into lashon hara. The punishment—quarantine, a whole nation forced to wait—shows how quickly corrosive speech can freeze collective progress.
I write this section with trepidation, aware of my own name, Miriam, and of the ease with which rebuke, which I am now giving, slides into slander, which I must avoid. Still, when public figures label fellow Jews “anti-Semites” simply for insisting on shared duty, the parallel feels unavoidable. Words hurled for the thrill of wounding, posted without any hope of persuading, place us squarely in the shadow of Miriam’s error.
Resentful obedience, self-absorbed desire, wounding speech: these are the three notes the trumpets of teshuvah must drown out. If we can replace silent bitterness with gratitude for common duty, private appetite with genuine solidarity, and reckless talk with disagreement for the purpose of reaching the good, le-shem shamayim, then—God willing—the blasts that rallied us to war may soon resound over festivals and new moons, as the very next verse in the parashah promises.
With my wishes for good news,
Shabbat Shalom,
Miriam
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