The Torah portion opens with a discussion about going to war. Many of our rabbinic commentators have expanded the meaning of the text to refer not to wars against external enemies, but to wars against our own evil inclinations. These internal wars are battles for self-definition. Either we can win and live meaningfully and happily; or we can lose by succumbing to pressures that lead us to abandon our own values and ideals.

In reviewing the history of the Israelites since the Exodus, Moses reminded them of the two sets of Tablets of the Law. The first set was given with much fanfare at Mount Sinai. Yet, when Moses found the Israelites worshipping the golden calf, he threw down the stone Tablet and shattered it into pieces. He then ascended the mountain a second time, after which he brought down the second set of Tablets of the Law.

In a recent lecture, Rabbi Hayyim Angel alluded to a remarkable passage in the Talmud (Sotah 13b), which seems to cast some criticism on Moses. When Korah and his associates arose against Moses, they argued that "all the congregation is holy, and why do you lord over the congregation of the Lord?" Although their motives were dubious, there was some justice in their claim. They purported to want a more democratic system that did not concentrate all power in the hands of Moses and Aaron. In rebuffing the critics, Moses said: rav lahem b'nai Levi, i.e. you have enough, children of Levi.

Instead of engaging the critics in conversation, Moses cut them off: Enough!

The New York Times (July 15, 2012) included an important article by Ross Douthat entitled “Can Liberal Christianity be Saved?” He points out that the liberal denominations of Christianity have increasingly identified themselves with “progressive” causes--and in the process have experienced a drastic drop in membership and church attendance! He writes that “…liberal Christianity has simply collapsed. Practically every denomination…that has tried to adapt itself to contemporary liberal values has seen an Episcopal-style plunge in church attendance.”

Religion has two faces. One face is that of saintliness, idealism, holiness and selflessness. But the other face is one of hatred, cruelty, selfishness and egotism. Within the world of religion, one can find the most exemplary human beings; but one can also find inquisitors and terrorists. In his play, “The Father,” August Strindberg has one of his characters state: “It is strange that as soon as you begin to talk about God and love, your voice becomes hard and your eyes full of hate.”

It’s not that there are two types of people, pious and wicked. Rather, saintliness and ugliness are intermixed within individuals. The righteous struggle to keep the ugliness out; the wicked strive to promote their own evil agendas. Often, the wicked camouflage themselves in the cloak of piety.

When Moses approached the end of his career, he asked God to appoint a new leader for the Israelites, so that “the congregation of the Lord be not as sheep which have no shepherd” (Bemidbar 27:17). He wanted to be sure that his successor would be someone who would lead the people as a shepherd who tends his flock.

A shepherd is often lonely. A shepherd often loses sleep. A shepherd watches over the entire flock, especially the weaker sheep and the stragglers. A shepherd keeps the flock in order, making sure that all are accounted for. A shepherd leads the flock with thoughtfulness and devotion.

In the opening pages of his book “The Upright Thinkers,” Dr. Leonard Mlodinow reports an incident in his father’s life as an inmate in a Nazi concentration camp. The elder Mlodinow was then a young Polish Jew, who had not received formal education past seventh grade. In the camp, he met an older inmate, a mathematician, and they struck up a friendship.

Not only did the people not seem to appreciate the lifelong service of Miriam, they are not reported as having offered any words of consolation to her brothers, Moses and Aaron. The people were thirsty; they were not concerned about the death of Miriam or the grief of Moses and Aaron.

I recently attended a daily minyan but could hardly concentrate on my prayers. What was the problem?

One of the worshipers chanted all his prayers in a loud tone of voice, generally a paragraph or two behind the hazzan. The more I tried to focus on my own prayers, the more the loud voice of this person distracted me. Instead of experiencing the prayers with a feeling of spiritual elevation, I found myself feeling annoyed, even angry.