Matot-Massei: Refuge
When I get into very painful conversations with people in my life, my first instinct is to run away Suddenly, I remember groceries I must buy right now, library books that must be returned, a bathroom that needs to be cleaned – anything to not stay one moment longer in the sludge and discomfort of a fight with someone I love.
Early on in my relationship with my husband, he noticed my jumpiness and urge to flee when we were in a difficult discussion. “Why are you moving away from me?” He would ask. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” I would respond, from the other side of the apartment, as I suddenly remembered a plant over there that really needed watering.
Of course, these are small-scale escapes, but what they do is bring me to refuges of avoidance. The urge to run away – to leave relationships that lose their luster, jobs that are messy, obligations that require work - seems to be a part of being human. This becomes all the more true when, at the bottom of these relationships and obligations, we feel like we’ve messed up and/or caused damage, and finding our way out of trouble seems impossible. Better to run away and to avoid the problem forever.
This week’s parsha (Torah portion) recognizes our urge to flee when we are in trouble, but gives us another approach to the problem: creating refuges of integration rather than avoidance.
I. Cities of Refuge
11 You shall designate cities for yourselves; they shall be cities of refuge for you, and a murderer who killed a person unintentionally shall flee there.
12 These cities shall serve you as a refuge from an avenger, so that the murderer shall not die until he stands in judgment before the congregation.
– Numbers 35:11-12
The City of Refuge (Arei Miklat) is a container to separate the person who caused harm from the violence of the bereaved. On the surface, it is a nicer version of jail, ensuring the murderers a right to face fair judgment rather than vengeful impulse.
A deeper look at the nature of refuge, however, illustrates its spiritual and transformational quality. Yes, it is a safe place to which you can flee. However, it also is a place where you can find your way home. The word “refuge” in English comes from the Latin root, refugere, meaning “to flee,” and “to fly back.” In Hebrew, the word miklat has the same root (kuf, lamed, tet) as the words absorption and integration.
In the Buddhist tradition, practitioners “take refuge” in the Buddha (awakeness), the Dharma (teachings), and the Sangha (community). In this context, the word “refuge” comes from the Pali word sarana-gamana. Sarana refers to a “a shelter, protection, or sanctuary, some place of peace and safety” Gamana refers to “the act of returning.” Once again, refuge is the place we go back to when we are in danger, and refuge is the place from which we emerge when we are re-integrated and renewed.
What is your City of Refuge? What are your places – internally or externally – where you can find a little space and some safety from the heat of anger, the weight of self-recrimination, the burden of guilt? Once there, can you carefully and gently hold the pain you have been carrying? Can you fully grapple with the trauma and grief of the past and find ways to absorb and integrate it into yourself?
II. The Levites
The Torah provides a specific type of support for the person in the City of Refuge to undertake this process: The Levites God places the six Cities of Refuge within the larger territory of the Levites. Why? Sefer HaChinuch explains:
“Since [the Levites] are men of pure heart who are known for their sterling traits and their venerable wisdom, it is known to all that they will not despise the killer who would be saved by them. And they will not touch him, and even if he would kill one of their loved ones… In other words, they always act with honesty and truth… ”
The Levites shine the light of kindness and acceptance on the killers, even in the circumstances of the Levites’ own personal loss. The Levites’ wisdom and power of forgiveness was so deep that they could hold all of the pain and all of the love at once. We need to find the Levites in our own hearts in order to do the same. We need to find unconditional love for ourselves underneath all our self-judgments and self-critiques. Like the Levites with the killers, we need to say to ourselves, no matter what you have done, no matter how you have fallen short, I will never leave you. That is the place of true refuge. That is the place where we can remember who we really are, and align our behavior with that vision.
In my experience, when I pledge that I won’t run away from myself, my need to run away from difficult relationships and situations also abates. My place of refuge becomes my breath, where I remember that I exist and that I am a part of everything else that exists. My Levite becomes the voice within that says I am holy, and therefore worthy of love and forgiveness. Out of that space, I am able to rejoin my community, my obligations and my relationships with new strength and commitment
Learn more: jewishspirituality.org
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