From The Other Side Of The Bench
By David J. Seidemann, Esq.
I was going to take the week off from writing, but then I ran into a friend this morning at the coffee shop. “Hey, I see you stopped writing for the paper,” he said.
“No I didn’t,” I replied. “I just was too busy to write an article last week, but other than that, I still write at least every other week.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I think so,” I said. “I think I am the one who uses my name and the title From the Other Side of the Bench. I think I’m the one who takes out my iPad and pecks away on it.”
“But do me a favor,” I continued. “If you find someone using my iPad and writing articles using my name, let me know right away. I’d love to meet him because there are a few other tasks I do daily or weekly or monthly that perhaps he could do for me as well, such as paying my mortgage.”
• • •
When we are young, we actually think we can choose to do only the fun things in life. Then we hit that stage where the realities of life’s struggles set in and we try mightily to find those few moments of respite when we can escape the pressures of the world, albeit for just a few moments.
I know, as my mother, may she rest in peace, would always tell me, that unless one struggles for something, he does not truly appreciate it. But sometimes one feels that it would be worth giving up a little bit of the appreciation to have a little bit less of a struggle. Is it true? Do you really appreciate something more if you had a part in its creation, in acquiring it? I guess the perfect example would be one’s children. We obviously love them more than we love the neighbors’ children, and presumably that’s because we had a part in their creation and in their growth. Looks like Mom was right again.
The biblical man Tzlafchad had six daughters. They descended upon Moses after their father’s death and requested a portion in the land that the Israelites were about to conquer and inherit. And Moses was confounded at first because the land of Israel was divinely divided amongst the tribes by lottery, and these six women did not seem to figure into the original plan. Sexism? Discrimination? Racism? Can you imagine the Supreme Court hearing that case? I can see it now. In a 5–4 decision, with Justice Roberts writing the majority opinion, “The division of the land as prescribed by the Bible is held to be unconstitutional and invalid, and the matter is to be remanded back to Mt. Sinai for further proceedings.”
Why was Moses confounded? Did not these six righteous daughters of Tzlafchad deserve to inherit their father’s portion after his death? Was the Torah guilty of housing discrimination? Would Donald Trump label these six women illegal immigrants?
These ladies were as legal as legal can be. They had every right to pitch their tents and plant their feet on the holy land of Israel. Feet, yes, but what about their hearts? You see, the other settlers of the land were men who had displayed their love, commitment, and attachment to the land by fighting in a war to conquer the land. But these women did not fight for the land. They simply wanted it to be gifted to them; therefore, while Moses knew that they were entitled by law to the physical claim to the land, he was unsure about their ultimate commitment.
Moses understood that unless you fight for something, you cannot appreciate it to the degree that someone who fought for it does. That was Moses’ quandary. When push comes to shove, when Israel and its inhabitants will be attacked in every possible venue, from every possible direction, will the daughters of Tzlafchad—who did not fight for the land but were just given the land—run for the hills of appeasement and retreat, or would they stand tall and proud in Israel’s defense as those that waged war for Israel would?
Moses was looking for that assurance—that the daughters’ love for Israel ran as deep as the love of those who must actually fight for the land. And we, the Jews of the Diaspora, are faced with that same question day in and day out. We are here in the relative comfort of our homes. Bombs are not exploding on our southern border. Missiles are not entering our airspace from the west. Terrorists are not committing atrocities to the east, and Canada is not planning an attack from the north.
Our children, unlike 40 percent of the children in S’derot, are not suffering from PTSD as a result of having to run to bomb shelters. Our children run for the pool. Our children return home from playing basketball. Israelis aren’t so fortunate.
We are not involved in the daily battle for Jerusalem. We do not bleed, though maybe some of us cry or at least tear up a bit, when we read the news of another Jewish life cut down by the enemy.
Then why did the daughters of Tzlafchad deserve a portion in the land? They did not fight for it. They could not appreciate it on the same level of intensity as those who fought. Would they run and hide at a liberal institution of higher anti-Semitic learning and become self-hating Jews, or convene the apology tour for modern-day Israel? What convinced Moses that they would indeed survive the test of time?
Their question, their very quest, their expressed desire was all that Moses needed to hear to convince him that these six women would be defenders of Israel in the future.
Moses realized that there are those who will conquer Israel with weapons and those who will conquer the land with love. Enlisting in the army is the preliminary stage of defending the land. Asking about the land, asking for a portion in the land, is the preliminary stage of loving the land.
Each of us must choose our weapon of choice. Each of us will write at least one chapter of Israel’s future. It is a future that is unlike a newspaper column; no one can afford to take a week off.
David Seidemann is a partner with the law firm of Seidemann and Mermelstein and serves as a professor of business law at Touro College. He can be reached at 718-692-1013 or ds@lawofficesm.com.