A few days ago, the Tammuz moon stood in its fullness.
Many of us probably noticed it. There is something special about a full moon. For a moment, it draws us away from our thoughts, our schedules, and our obligations.
In Jewish tradition, the moon is more than a beautiful sight in the night sky. It gives rhythm to our calendar, marking the beginning of each month and the timing of our festivals. The full moon of Tammuz marks a particularly significant transition, for only a few days later we enter a period that gradually leads us toward the High Holy Days.
Yet even the fullest moon does not remain full for long. As we admire its beauty, it is already beginning to change.
It is at precisely such a moment that Parashat Pinchas begins.
The people of Israel stand on the threshold of the Promised Land. The long journey through the wilderness is almost over, yet they have not arrived. The generation that left Egypt has almost disappeared. Moses knows that he will not cross the Jordan with the people. The future is already taking shape before the first step has been taken.
Here the Torah lingers before moving on.
Instead of moving directly to the next chapter, it lingers over four stories that, at first glance, seem to have very little in common: Pinchas. The daughters of Tzelofchad. Moses. Joshua.
Perhaps the Torah is inviting us to pause as well.
The first person we meet is Pinchas. He sees something he cannot accept. He does not wait for someone else to act. He acts. The Torah does not tell us how we should judge his deed. Instead, it leaves us with a question that is still difficult to answer: When does a moment demand that we act?
Then the Torah turns to a very different story. Five sisters come before Moses with a single question: "Why should our father's name disappear simply because he had no son?" They choose words, not weapons. They trust that justice has a place within the Torah itself. And God answers Moses: "The daughters of Tzelofchad are right." Their courage changes the law for every generation that follows.
The focus then returns to Moses. He learns that he will see the land but never enter it. He does not ask God to change that decision. Instead, he asks for something else: "May the Eternal, the God of the spirits of all flesh, appoint someone over the community." Even at this deeply personal moment, his first concern is not himself but the people who will continue the journey without him.
From there the Torah leads us to Joshua. For many years he has walked beside Moses. Now his time has come. God does not choose him because he is the strongest warrior or the greatest speaker. God simply describes him as "a man in whom there is spirit." Sometimes leadership begins not with ambition but with the willingness to carry forward what the previous generation now places into your hands.
The challenge is not to have the same answer for every situation, but to recognize what this particular moment is asking of us.
The moon continues its journey across the night sky...
The same moon shone above Abraham and Sarah. It accompanied the Israelites in the wilderness, shone above Jerusalem in times of joy and in times of destruction, and above Jewish communities wherever they made their homes. Only a few days ago, it shone above us.
The moon does not stand still.
Neither does life.
The central question of Parashat Pinchas is not whether change will come—it will—but how we choose to respond to it.
Shabbat Shalom.