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Powers of the lost ark
Torah study
Behaalotkha/Numbers 8:1 - 12:16
As the narrative portion of the Torah resumes this week, we are told that Israel takes leave of its encampment at Mount Sinai with "the ark of the covenant of the Lord" leading the way (Numbers 10:33).
Poetic and exhortatory, the verses depict the role of the ark as protective: "When the ark was to set out, Moses would say: 'Advance, O Lord! May your enemies be scattered, and may your foes flee before you!' And when it halted, he would say: 'Return, O Lord, you who are Israel's myriads of thousands!' " (Numbers 10:35-36).
The ark of the covenant, concealed from view by a curtain and covered by the outstretched wings of two facing cherubim, contained the tablets of the Ten Commandments. Aaron entered its precincts but once a year, and then only in a cloud of incense. On the other hand, Moses enjoyed constant access to receive God's instructions.
If the altar conveyed Israel's sentiments to God, the ark served to transmit God's will to Israel. God did not reside in the ark of the covenant, but rather descended upon it, with the cherubim serving as an image of God's chariot.
The awesome power of the ark was mobilized to protect Israel in moments of danger. It led Joshua and the people across the Jordan into Canaan and later around the walls of Jericho (Joshua 3:11, 6:6).
Yet, unrighteous leadership could impair its effect. On the verge of defeat by the Philistines, in the days of the decadent priesthood of Hophni and Phinehas at the sanctuary in Shiloh, the elders of Israel decided to bring "the ark of the covenant of the Lord of Hosts enthroned on the cherubim" to the battlefield (I Samuel 4:4). Not only did the ultimate weapon fail this time, but it fell calamitously into the hands of the enemy, to be returned ignominiously after it had wreaked havoc on every Philistine city in which it was placed.
Was the God of Israel no more than a warlord beset by hostile forces? How could the omnipotent creator of the universe have mortal enemies? The enemies of God were the enemies of Israel, the one nation which had accepted the task to advance the cause of ethical monotheism. God eventually meted out punishment to the likes of Pharaoh, Sisera, Nebuchadnezzar and Haman. As long as Israel remains faithful to God's will, its enemies are also God's enemies.
Sometime in the early middle ages, the two verses from our Torah portion regarding the advancement and halting of the ark were attached to the ceremony for taking out and returning the Torah scroll from the ark of the synagogue. The first verse, "Advance, O Lord ...," is sung by the congregation as we rise to open the ark to remove the Torah to read it publicly, while the second, "Return, O Lord ...," is recited when the reading is finished and the scroll has been restored to its resting place in the ark.
What has been accomplished by this liturgical application? I would argue three things: Firstly, the synagogue choreography preserves the link between the text and the ark. The ark of the synagogue is to be seen as the ark of the tabernacle, as the most sacred space in the institution that came to replace the Temple. Despite the destruction of the sacrificial system and the loss of the tablets, a corner of holiness remains, which can serve to represent the nearness of God.
Secondly, divine presence has taken the form of the written word. Nothing exceeds the sanctity of the Torah scroll. To remove it and read (chant) it publicly reenacts the initial experience of the revelation at Sinai and underscores the essence of Judaism as a relationship to a book.
And finally, the invocation of God to assist us communally and personally loses none of its existential urgency. The wilderness of the biblical narrative becomes a metaphor for life with all its bewildering, unpredictable and precarious qualities. As the Torah scroll passes through the congregation, we are stirred by the sensation of eternity.
The language of religion is symbolic. Inspired ritual is a bridge that links past and present. To intone the ancient exhortation in a new setting is to invest our quest for the holy with the flavor of the original well-spring of God's nearness.
Rabbi Ismar Schorsch is chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York City.
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