Finding a Seat in Musical Chairs
Who doesn't know the game ”musical chairs?” The classic game where a group of children walks around a circle of chairs (one fewer than the number of players). If you ever played this game as a child, you must remember the awkward feeling of being the only one standing when everyone else sat down. The only one who was out of place.
Our portion this week, Emor, brings a curious short story towards the end about a man who cursed God.
וַיֵּצֵא֙ בֶּן־אִשָּׁ֣ה יִשְׂרְאֵלִ֔ית וְהוּא֙ בֶּן־אִ֣ישׁ מִצְרִ֔י בְּת֖וֹךְ בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל וַיִּנָּצוּ֙ בַּֽמַּחֲנֶ֔ה בֶּ֚ן הַיִּשְׂרְאֵלִ֔ית וְאִ֖ישׁ הַיִּשְׂרְאֵלִֽי׃
“There came out among the Israelites one whose mother was an Israelite and whose father was Egyptian. And a fight broke out in the camp between that half-Israelite and a certain Israelite.”
The fight that is described here ends with the man cursing God. He was then taken into custody until a divine word came, with instructions for his punishment:
הוֹצֵ֣א אֶת־הַֽמְקַלֵּ֗ל אֶל־מִחוּץ֙ לַֽמַּחֲנֶ֔ה וְסָמְכ֧וּ כׇֽל־הַשֹּׁמְעִ֛ים אֶת־יְדֵיהֶ֖ם עַל־רֹאשׁ֑וֹ וְרָגְמ֥וּ אֹת֖וֹ כׇּל־הָעֵדָֽה׃
“Take the blasphemer outside the camp; and let all who were within hearing lay their hands upon his head, and let the whole community stone him.”
Rashi asks: “When did he go out?” ״מהיכן יצא איש כזה?״ What Rashi asks here is where did such man come from? What in a person’s life could prompt such lowly behavior? What brings a person to curse God?
Rashi proposes that one possibility was that “although his father was an Egyptian, he had gone to pitch his tent in the camp of the tribe of Dan to whom his mother belonged.” When the man was asked to leave, he was taken to Moses’ court, and Moses decided that the man was in the wrong. That decision caused the man to curse. Rashi even adds a more bold suggestion, that the man’s Egyptian father was the Egyptian guard, hitting an Israelite slave, the guard that Moses killed.
Just like the child who was left without a chair, the man must have felt rejected and detached, perhaps he felt that he did not belong to the nation, and that rejected feeling led to him cursing God. To break the rules of the game entirely, to do away with everything.
Our tradition has often emphasized the danger of feeling disconnected and the intensity of the reaction of those who feel they don’t belong.
The Talmud tractate Gittin 55b-56a goes so far as to say that rejecting a person led to the destruction of the Land and the exile of our people. It tells the following story:
אַקַּמְצָא וּבַר קַמְצָא חֲרוּב יְרוּשָׁלַיִם – דְּהָהוּא גַּבְרָא דְּרָחֲמֵיהּ קַמְצָא, וּבְעֵל דְּבָבֵיהּ בַּר קַמְצָא. עֲבַד סְעוֹדְתָּא, אֲמַר לֵיהּ לְשַׁמָּעֵיהּ: זִיל אַיְיתִי לִי קַמְצָא. אֲזַל אַיְיתִי לֵיהּ בַּר קַמְצָא.
Jerusalem was destroyed on account of Kamtza and bar Kamtza. This is as there was a certain man whose friend was named Kamtza and whose enemy was named bar Kamtza. He once made a large feast and said to his servant: Go bring me my friend Kamtza. The servant went and mistakenly brought him his enemy bar Kamtza.
אֲתָא, אַשְׁכְּחֵיהּ דַּהֲוָה יָתֵיב. אֲמַר לֵיהּ: מִכְּדֵי הָהוּא גַּבְרָא בְּעֵל דְּבָבֵאּ דְּהָהוּא גַּבְרָא הוּא, מַאי בָּעֵית הָכָא? קוּם פּוֹק! אֲמַר לֵיהּ: הוֹאִיל וַאֲתַאי, שִׁבְקַן וְיָהֵיבְנָא לָךְ דְּמֵי מָה דְּאָכֵילְנָא וְשָׁתֵינָא.
The man who was hosting the feast came and found bar Kamtza sitting at the feast. The host said to bar Kamtza. That man is the enemy [ba’al devava] of that man, that is, you are my enemy. What then do you want here? Arise and leave. Bar Kamtza said to him: Since I have already come, let me stay and I will give you money for whatever I eat and drink. Just do not embarrass me by sending me out.
אֲמַר לֵיהּ: לָא. אֲמַר לֵיהּ: יָהֵיבְנָא לָךְ דְּמֵי פַּלְגָא דִּסְעוֹדְתָּיךְ! אֲמַר לֵיהּ: לָא. אֲמַר לֵיהּ: יָהֵיבְנָא לָךְ דְּמֵי כּוּלַּהּ סְעוֹדְתָּיךְ! אֲמַר לֵיהּ: לָא. נַקְטֵיהּ בִּידֵיהּ וְאוֹקְמֵיהּ וְאַפְּקֵיהּ.
The host said to him: No, you must leave. Bar Kamtza said to him: I will give you money for half of the feast; just do not send me away. The host said to him: No, you must leave. Bar Kamtza then said to him: I will give you money for the entire feast; just let me stay. The host said to him: No, you must leave. Finally, the host took bar Kamtza by his hand, stood him up, and took him out.
Bar Kamtza left the table, went to the Roman government and told them that the Jews were not loyal subjects. To prove this to the Romans, he suggested that they deliver a sacrifice to the Jews, to sacrifice on behalf of Roman rule and witness how the Jews would refuse.
Bar Kamtza delivered a blemished offering, knowing that the blemished offering would not be accepted (a commandment that also appears in our parasha) and indeed the Jews refused to offer it. This act ultimately led to the destruction of Jerusalem.
As an educator and as a parent, I have watched children playing musical chairs many times. I always wondered about the passion they have to find a seat. Was it just their need to win? Or was there something more?
Oftentimes, the profile of a mass school shooter fits a student who was consistently overlooked, perhaps one who could never “find a seat?” Our tradition warns that the feeling of rejection can bring a great disaster; be it the cursing of God, school shooting or even the destruction and exile of an entire community.
This made me wonder, what about an entire nation who is rejected? Who is misplaced and isolated?
The German Jewish philosopher Franz Rosenzweig, viewed the Jewish nation as a nation without a seat, a nation without a physical space to dwell in. In fact, he viewed the Jewish people as a people who exist outside of history, who cannot be viewed in terms of time and space. They have no space, because they are scattered among the nations, and they are outside of time because, rather than following the historical timeline, they follow the cycle of holidays and Shabbat.
According to Rosenzweig, the Jewish people exist through a direct link to God and hold within them both eternity and redemption.
Many of us in recent times have experienced once again the feeling of being isolated and even rejected. Thinking of Rosenzweig, I wonder if remembering our unique spiritual heritage, our rich intellectual tradition and our existence in continuous ethical debates, might make us realize that we do have a seat, maybe not an ordinary one, but a seat which no one can take away from us.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Ye'ela Rosenfeld
