Shabbat Greetings
We read Pinchas (Numbers 25:10-30:1), a Torah portion that looks toward the future of the Jewish people. Tomorrow, we will celebrate the 250th anniversary of America’s Declaration of Independence, giving thanks for the freedoms and opportunities that have blessed this country. And we stand just a day after the Seventeenth of Tammuz, which began the three-week period of mourning that leads to Tisha B’Av, when we remember the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple.
At first glance, these seem like unrelated events: one joyful, one hopeful, and one mournful. Together they teach a profound lesson: freedom is never self-sustaining. It requires moral purpose, shared responsibility, and constant care.
Pinchas is often described as a transition. The generation that left Egypt is almost gone. Moses knows he will not enter the Promised Land. A census is taken, not to dwell on the past, but to prepare for the future. Joshua is appointed as Moses’ successor. The daughters of Zelophehad remind the nation that justice sometimes requires listening to voices that had previously been overlooked. The Torah is asking: What kind of society will you become once freedom is finally yours? That question echoes through American history as well.
Two hundred fifty years ago, the Declaration of Independence proclaimed extraordinary ideals, that all people are created equal and endowed with rights that no government may rightfully take away. Those words have inspired generations, even as America has wrestled with the painful reality that it has not always lived up to them. The story of this nation is one of aspiration and self-correction, of expanding liberty while confronting injustice. Judaism understands that kind of story.
The Torah never presents a perfect people or perfect leaders. Instead, it insists that greatness comes not from perfection, but from the willingness to learn, repent, and begin again. That is why the understanding of the Seventeenth of Tammuz matters, even to the modern Reform Jew.
The Mishnah teaches that on that day the walls of Jerusalem were breached. The physical breach became the beginning of a spiritual collapse that ended in the destruction of the Temple.(Mishnah Ta’anit 4:6) But the rabbis insist that the walls did not fall only because of a stronger army. They fell because something inside the society had already begun to crumble. They speak of corruption, complacency, and, most famously, sinat chinam – “baseless hatred”. The walls fell from within before they fell from without. That is a timeless warning. Nations are not preserved by military strength alone. Communities are not sustained by economic success alone. Families are not held together by shared history alone. They endure through trust, mutual responsibility, and the willingness to see one another as partners rather than enemies.
There is a striking detail in Pinchas. When Moses realizes he will not lead the people into the land, he does not ask God to change the decree. Instead, he asks for a successor. His concern is not his own legacy but the people’s future: “Let Adonai appoint someone over the community… so that the community shall not be like sheep without a shepherd.” (27:16-17) That is remarkable leadership. Moses teaches that institutions matter more than personalities. The future depends on preparing the next generation and strengthening the community that will outlast any individual leader.
Perhaps that is exactly the challenge presented by America’s 250th anniversary. Anniversaries should not simply congratulate us for surviving another year. They should ask whether we are strengthening the civic virtues that allow freedom to endure: respect for one another, care for the vulnerable, honest disagreement without hatred, and a commitment to the common good. Likewise, the Three Weeks ask us not merely to mourn what was destroyed long ago but to examine what fractures may exist within our own communities and our own hearts. The breach in Jerusalem’s walls began as a small opening. Most breaches do. Relationships usually do not collapse overnight. Communities rarely unravel in a single day. Democracies are seldom weakened by one event alone. Small acts of contempt, indifference, dishonesty, or division can widen over time into cracks that become impossible to ignore.
Yet Judaism is a religion of hope. The same tradition that calls us to mourn also teaches that the Messiah is born on Tisha B’Av (Jerusalem Talmud Berachot 2:4), a reminder that even at moments of deepest loss, renewal remains possible. That hope is reflected in Pinchas as well. Even as one generation comes to an end, another is preparing to begin. Even as Moses prepares to leave, Joshua is ready to lead. The Torah refuses to let endings have the final word.
As we celebrate 250 years of American independence, may we give thanks for the blessings of liberty while remembering that freedom carries obligations as well as rights. May God bless this country with wisdom and justice. May God bless the Jewish people with unity and peace. And may we become builders of bridges before we are left mourning broken walls.
SHABBAT SHALOM