Giants and Grasshoppers

Rabbi Mark S. Diamond
Executive Vice President
The Board of Rabbis of Southern California

Parshat Bamidbar: Numbers 1:1-4:20
Haftorah: Samuel 20:18-20:42

The opening verses of this week's Torah portion set forth the Divine command to take a census of the people of Israel prior to their conquest of the land. The Hebrew language of this command, se'u et rosh kol adat benay Yisra'el (Num. 1:2), literally means, "Lift up the heads of the entire community of Israel." This unusual language offers a fascinating insight into counting people. While census taking is ultimately about numbers, we must never forget the uniqueness of each person we count in a census. We should count people individually and recognize their special qualities and individual needs and concerns as members of our polity. For our collective task is nothing less than the sacred mandate to lift up, one by one, the heads, hearts and souls of our entire community.

On Thursday I had the great privilege of receiving an honor from CLUE LA (Clergy and Laity United for Economic Justice). This interfaith organization is devoted to lifting up the lives of working men and women in Los Angeles. I am pleased to share excerpts of my remarks at the CLUE celebration.



CLUE Giants of Justice Luncheon
May 21, 2009
Sinai Temple, Los Angeles
Remarks - Rabbi Mark Diamond


I don't have a clue what it means to be a giant of justice. The name of this honor reminds me of the Torah narrative of the spies sent by Moses to scout out the Promised Land. They report back that it is indeed a land of milk and honey. However, they add: "We cannot conquer the land, for its people are stronger than we are...All the people that we saw in it are giants�and we looked like grasshoppers to ourselves, and so we must have looked to them." (Num. 13:31-33)

With apologies to the CLUE staff and board of directors, I humbly suggest that what our community needs are fewer giants of justice and more grasshoppers for justice. We need men and women who are passionately committed to tikkun olam - social justice. Let's not forget what that rag-tag army of Israelite grasshoppers accomplished so long ago. They defeated their much larger, stronger, gigantic adversaries. They proved the awesome power and potential of a coalition of dedicated individuals working together to do God's work on earth.

Let me share a personal story of why I am here today. I grew up in a Chicago suburb in the shadow of the agricultural fields of Cook and Will Counties. Each spring when my family and I drove from our hometown of Park Forest to Chicago, we passed by dusty fields teeming with migrant workers-men, women and children who lived and toiled without the benefit of fair wages, proper health care, adequate food and housing. These were and are God's children living and working in the most horrible conditions.

My social justice education began in Sauk Village, a poor town near those fields. There I joined a small group of teenagers and adults on a picket line in front of a local grocery store. For hours we marched back and forth, handing out leaflets and repeating our three-word refrain over and over and over again: Boycott scab lettuce! Boycott scab lettuce! We know that Cesar Chavez launched that movement. Cesar Chavez touched the hearts and shaped the lives of farm workers, labor organizers, business owners, political leaders and millions of other Americans. And he reached across two thousand miles and touched the heart and shaped the life of a Jewish kid who grew up to be a rabbi. 

The legacy and values of Cesar Chavez live on through each and every one of us. Please don't ever forget how we touch lives, transform lives and save lives through our work. Please don't ever think that our work is done. Living as we do in a troubled and divided world, our mission is clear. Where there is injustice, we must sow righteousness. Where there is conflict, we must teach non-violence. Where there is despair, we must convey hope. Where there is darkness, we must create light.

It is said that a man went to his physician complaining about his heart. The physician told him to stretch out his hand so that he might feel his pulse. "But Doctor," said the patient, "it's my heart I am complaining about." "I know," the physician replied, "but from your hand and its pulse I can tell you about your heart."

We judge the soundness of our hearts by taking the pulse of our hands. That pulse is our unswerving dedication to redeem and repair our fractured world. Tikkun olam is our pulse. Let's join our hands and hearts together to ensure that the pulse of tikkun olam beats strongly and securely throughout our community. Thank you for being here today. Thank you for this honor. You have touched my heart.