The fresh pain of our own infighting, especially during the month of Av, makes the comforting words of the neviim that we read during these weeks seem so far away and out of our reach. That notwithstanding, we are committed to underscoring the teachings that do embrace rather than distance, that respect rather than demonize. It is in this regard that our parsha presents to us a refreshing teachable moment.
Perhaps it is instructive that the mesora embedded the prohibition against behaviors that may create fissures within the community, "lo sisgodidu", within the restrictions against self-mutilation out of grief. The literal reading of "lo sisgodadu" (14:1) bans the early Semitic practice of cutting oneself and views it as an overreaction, or at least as a poorly directed reaction, to loss. According to Ibn Ezra this is the meaning of the introductory phrase of the pasuk, "You are children of Hashem", i.e. our belief in His concern for us should blunt the depth of our reaction to tragedy.
However, the mesora teaches that "lo sisgodidu" also rules against establishing "agudos agudos", factions and walls within a community. That means that whereas we are all encouraged to maintain authentic and well-based customs and practices, we must refrain from doing so within a community that has a decidedly different observance. Refraining from putting on teffilin on chol hamoed in a bais hamedrash in Yerushalyim, despite one's personal practice, is the classic modern illustration of the mesorah's principle. Clearly, maintaining one's practice of putting on teffilin on chol hamoed when it does not set one apart from the community is mandated. Yet even a firmly based communal legacy must be set aside if it would create the image of two groups distinguishing themselves in their observance.
It follows that months of in-depth study or the correct commitment to "tribal" or family legacy are all left behind, for the moment, if it would diminish another genuine legacy uniformly practiced by a community. Indeed in a community where differing practices have already taken hold, perhaps by the sudden merger forced upon us, prevailing opinion encourages maintaining varying practices even in public. Apparently in that situation it is believed that valuing variety and diversity will result, and in fact generate, the respect for one another that is otherwise communicated by acquiescing to the established communal approach.
Now we can appreciate how the mesorah connects the introductory phrase, "You are Hashem's children" to the substance of this meaning of "lo sisgodadu". Children who are interested in their parents' legacy, in its entirety and completeness, learn to include all those who behave as children in some significant measure. They learn to understand, sometimes with sacrifice and hurt, their siblings' contribution in the reconstruction and evaluation of a heritage. Just as an estate is no longer as it is pulled or peeled apart, so to one's spiritual bequest is only as complete as it is inclusive of those who value that inheritance. I believe that is why the Torah calls itself "morasha lekehillas Yaakov".
What is the secret of holding it all together despite the passion appropriately invested in one's beliefs? What is the secret that continually eludes our people time and time again and that could at least soften the rhetoric and lower the volume? That secret is remembering at all times, "banim atem laHashem".
The illustration of the towering saint, Rav Kook, is so very instructive. He was censured and condemned by leading personalities of his time for his benevolence to those who were not religious. He boldly responded that he is able to find a kernel of truth in any position held by his brethren not withstanding how far from correct their lifestyle or their position may be. Rav Kook would then address that kernel of truth, nurture it, develop it and ultimately include it.
Perhaps that is the essence of "talmidei chachamim marbim sholom baolom". Talmidei chachamim, our Talmudic scholars, turn nights into days in their well-practiced skill of studying varying Talmudic positions in order to understand the truths of all positions. It is with that skill that Rav Kook reduced the fierceness of dissent and built upon it with optimism and love.
Finally, the haftorah describes times to come: "...I will make your windows like jewels and your gates like gems and your borders like precious stones." When we value meaningful diversity and allow it to enrich us and make us deeper, then that which separates us becomes indeed prized gems. We have come to expect that when we find beauty in our clannish boundaries, moshiach has come. How we must pray that we will learn this in time to bring him speedily.