shelach
parashat shelach, numbers chapters 13—15
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and thoughts…
shelach l’cha
Send for yourself
…in which the Israelites get a good shelach-ing…
In this Torah portion we are taught to wear tzit-tzit, we’re taught that the penalty for gathering sticks on Shabbat is death by stoning, and we’re taught about the taking of challah when we bake bread—find out more about that, here. But, the singular event that this parashat is famous for is the Incident of the Spies.
The Promised Land…
It’s the place we were heading to when we left Egypt—a mysterious, wonderful place that we’d never seen and could only imagine. We’d made a year-long pit stop at Mount Sinai so that we could receive the Torah, and then, with our instruction manual in hand, we at last reached its borders.
Aaaaaaand…..we didn’t get in.
Our entry to this promised land was ultimately delayed by 39 years, due to the incident of the spies in Parashat Shelach.
Every day, from waking to sleep, was a series of miracles for the Israelites in the wilderness. Every need was provided for through no effort of their own. Imagine having seen the workings of The Master of All Worlds clearly and without shadow—the plagues, the splitting of the sea, the pillars of cloud and fire, the manna, the giving of the Torah—how could anyone who had seen these things have had less than perfect trust, perfect faith, that God could and would accomplish everything promised? Twelve leaders were sent out to spy out the land, to see if it was truly a good land, and if the Israelites would be able to overtake the people who lived there. Yet, only Joshua and Caleb returned with a positive report. The other ten agreed that it was a wonderful land but that we didn’t stand a chance against the inhabitants.
And here we sit in our comfortable air-conditioned shul, or maybe in a cozy chair in our living rooms, reading Parashat Shelach, and we’re incredulous. We look at the incident of the spies and we shake our heads with disbelief. How could they possibly have doubted God’s word?
We think, “How marvelous it must have been to be a part of the generation that was liberated from Egypt! If I’d been there, I’m sure I would have stood with Joshua and Caleb!”
But hindsight is the best foresight.
Sometimes the promise of abundance, of a good life, is right in front of us, but we’re just not ready to receive it. We have more work to do. We need to mature and grow and understand on a deeper level before we can move on to a better place. And so, the negative report of the spies. They were not ready. The people were not ready.
We were not ready.
When I was a young child, I loved going to spend a few days with my grandmother in her Midtown Manhattan apartment. It was just the two of us, and she treated me as though I was the only thing in the world that mattered. Our outings included the Children’s Zoo in Central Park, shopping at posh department stores, lunches at Schrafft’s or the Automat, visits to her sisters or her friends (with me impeccably dressed and put on display), and walks to the most fabulous destination of all, the Empire State Building.
I remember standing in the elevator, my heart beating faster with the passing of every floor, as though we were ascending to heaven itself. And, when at last the doors opened to the observation deck and I felt the wind whipping my hair against my teeth, I thought I was at the top of the world. Down on the street I was ensconced in the city, pressed in by the moving masses of grown-up humans rushing past me and around me, and I was unable to see the tops of the buildings no matter how hard I craned my neck. But here at the top of the world, the people rushing to and fro on the sidewalk were invisible, and I could all at once see the entire, tiny city. The vastness of the land beyond, the water, and the sky were everything. Looking out through the giant coin-operated binoculars, it seemed I had only to stretch out my hand to touch New Jersey.
From the top of the world, perspective is altogether different than it is on the ground. From the tops of the trees you can see everything, the big picture, and it all seems to make sense, while on the forest floor all is in shadow and the only tree you can see is the one in front of you.
The bird sees the worm long before the worm sees the bird.
The Israelites were not at the top of the mountain with Moshe. Within a nomadic community of, according to census, 600,000 adult men, chances are good that any particular individual wasn’t even close to the mountain’s base. There was no stadium seating and it seems very likely to me that most people had either never met Moshe or had never seen him up close for more than a moment. While they did witness those extraordinary events that were seen by the whole nation, for the most part the information they received was filtered down through the hierarchy of leaders. When their group picked up and moved, they picked up and moved. When their group halted and put up their tents, they halted and put up their tents.
Miraculous experiences, when they occur, are positively mind blowing, but after the passage of some time, one can come to doubt the very thing they’d seen with their own eyes.
As for me, I’ve seen extraordinary miracles in my life, events that have taken my breath away and left me in awe of the power, the kindness, and the love of a God who I think shouldn’t see me as anything more than a speck floating by for a nanosecond, and yet holds my hand the way Grandma did, as if I’m the only thing that matters.
But then there are the other times, the times when I’m shrouded in darkness, when I feel totally alone and abandoned. At these times the miracles that TheName has performed for me, the times that The Sovereign of the Universe has intervened and rescued me, seem so distant that I wonder if they ever really happened at all, or if it was just my imagination. In those times I wonder if everything is random and meaningless, if my consciousness is nothing and will soon be obliterated as though it never was.
I suppose that it’s in these times that I need to take a metaphorical elevator to the top of the world, to step into the light to where I might see the big picture, and then close out all of the voices—even my own—so that I might listen to the one that’s speaking from within me.
And so we should ask ourselves, what position will we take when the people around us say that things are this way, or that they’re that way? It’s much more comfortable to agree, to feel a part of the group, then it is to chance being ridiculed or ostracized because we stood up and said that we disagree. How many of us form strong convictions based on what we’re told by others, without searching out facts for ourselves? We’re probably all guilty of that from time to time.
Technology changes, but human nature remains the same today as it was 3500 years ago.
May we all be tuned in to recognize the opportunities before us and be ready to accept them, with gratitude.
That’s a mouthful!
So, what shall we eat?
When it comes to tonight’s dinner, I’m not going to hesitate to enter Eretz Yisrael.
One of the easiest “fancy” challot to make is the Grape Cluster Challah. I have a giant leaf-shaped cookie cutter that I use to cut out a few dough leaves. I roll and twist a small piece of dough to form a stem, and then, directly on the parchment-lined baking sheet, I lay them out and assemble balls of dough into the shape of a cluster of grapes. I think that with a quick look at the picture, you’ll be able to easily make a grape cluster challah of your own.
You can take it to the next level if you want to: color the dough you’ll use for the leaves with some green food coloring, use brown for the stem, and color the rest of the dough purple for the individual grapes.
When I’m stuffing chicken parts, such a breast or thighs, I like to use boneless chicken for ease of eating, but I don’t want to lose the skin. Yeah, I know. Fat, calories, blahblahblah. But you need the skin to keep the chicken moist, especially with white meat, and when crisp and glazed it’s just so good. If you really need to remove it, I suggest doing so after cooking. But alas, at the stores where I shop I have only a choice between skinless and boneless, and with skin and bones. So, I buy the latter and remove the bones myself. With a sharp paring knife and nimble fingers, it’s not difficult. It may take a bit of practice to get the hang of it, but I promise that the last one will go faster than the first! Follow the directions in the recipe for Orange and Za’atar Roasted Chicken, first removing the bones from the thighs. That way you can drape them over a mound of stuffing before roasting. Or, leave the bones in the chicken and make the stuffing in a pan on the side, and serve it separately.
Of course, If you, or those at your table are vegetarian, this chicken, no matter how good, isn’t going to fly. (And yes, chickens can fly.) But, the stuffing makes a lovely dish on its own, and with the addition of some planks of crispy fried tempeh, it becomes a substantial entrée.
I’m a huge fan of baba ganoush, and if I may say so I’m often told that mine is the best. Any time I bring this smoky, silky smooth roasted eggplant dish to the table, it’s always met with great enthusiasm. This week, I’m going to turn it into a soup. Really. I can’t wait!
It will be garnished with a paste I’ve been lately obsessed with, one that’s based on the popular Middle Eastern green hot sauce known as zhoug, but without the heat (hot sauces and chemo mouth are not friends). If it’s not hot, I suppose it’s not zhoug, so as long as it’s already something else, I’ve combined it with tahini, which goes so well with eggplant. You can also use it as a condiment with just about anything, or use it as a dip for pita or challah.
Instead of the Ashkenazi Shabbat standard, gefilte fish, I’m going with a chilled salmon fillet to add a splash of color between the pale eggplant soup and the tan chicken and stuffing. And—forgive the wordplay—I’m going to Shelach….shellac… the fish with a tart/sweet pomegranate molasses glaze. Served with classic Israeli salad, this course is vegetarian friendly … if you eliminate the fish and just serve the salad …
Vegetarians don’t need to bemoan that they missed out on the delicious sauce that graces the salmon. That pomegranate shellac does double duty as a glaze for the tempeh. This also means that making a second entrée, if you’re serving both the chicken and the tempeh, will be no big deal at all.
For the veg, I’ve chosen broccolini because it looked good at the market, but you can use any green vegetable that looks good to you. I’ve simply dressed it in olive oil with a sprinkle each of salt, pepper, and garlic powder, and roasted it until it started to char on the edges, which took about 15 minutes in the same oven with the chicken. A tiny squeeze of lemon before serving gives it a bright flavor.
After all this food, I’m going with a light dessert…an assortment of fresh fruits. And, for a little sweet treat, some delicious sesame halvah, just like grandma used to give me. There are lots of recipes available for making halvah at home. That said, there are a few things that are better when made commercially, and halvah is one of them. Traditional halvah gets its texture from soapwort, and uses methods that would prove challenging in a home kitchen—and it’s that unique texture that makes me such a big fan of this confection. If you have a Middle Eastern or Jewish grocery in your neighborhood you can probably find halvah. If you don’t, you’re not out of luck. This one from Seda is very good. I'm personally a pistachio girl, but all the flavors are great. It’s the perfect thing, with a cup of tea, after a big meal.