The Book of Numbers from which we are reading in this year's journey through the Torah continues where Exodus left off with the people on their fateful journey, wandering through the desert on their way to the Promised Land. Much of the book contains considerable description of the priesthood and the Tabernacle, which contains the tablets Moses received at Mt. Sinai. In fact, the entire configuration of the camp and all the activities of the people revolve around the Tabernacle, which housed the Ark of the Covenant. For it contains God's words - the Ten Commandments.

Our modern day version of that Tabernacle, of course, is the synagogue, and our equivalent of the Ark of the Covenant which was carried on the shoulders of our ancestors as they wandered through the desert is our Ark, which houses the Torah. It, or in our case they, are covered in a beautiful mantle and adorned with silver crowns - adorned in beauty to express our feeling that the Torah is important.

In the Talmud, the Rabbis remind us that Moses received two sets of tablets. Remember, he was descending Sinai with the first set when he saw the people worshiping the golden calf. Fuming with anger, he cast the tablets onto the ground and smashed them into bits. So a second time Moses ascended the mountain. And this time, according to the Rabbis, instead of God carving out the words, Moses had to carve them himself. Tradition teaches that the tablets were so heavy that it was only because Moses carried the law in his heart that he was able to carry them down the mountain. This second set of tablets are the ones that were placed into the Ark of the Covenant and carried by the Hebrews on their journey.

The Rabbis ask, "What happened to the first set, the ones Moses had broken at the steps of Sinai in anger at the people's worshiping the Golden Calf?" The Torah is silent; it doesn't tell us; once they're smashed, the Torah contains not a single word about them. The Rabbis of old speculated that the fragments were gathered up by the people and placed in the Ark along with the whole tablets, so that it contained both sets - the whole one and the broken one.

I was reading a little book recently that suggested an interesting follow-up to this belief of the Rabbis. "In our journey through life," the author said, "as in the journey of our ancestors, the whole tablets remind us to embrace the wholeness in our life and the broken pieces remind us to embrace the broken parts of ourselves."

I think what this means is that we need to learn to embrace ourselves fully. Knowing that we are human means knowing that we make mistakes. That sometimes we act appropriately and sometimes we get angry when we shouldn't. That sometimes we live by the things we tell our children to do and not do, and sometimes we tell them to do one thing and then ourselves do another. That we sometimes we adhere strictly to the truth and sometimes we stretch the truth when it is to our own benefit. That sometimes we share credit and sometimes we take full credit for accomplishments and don't acknowledge the contribution others may have made. That we are sometimes thoughtful and kind and generous, and sometimes we are petty, and envious, and greedy. And that try as we will, we sometimes succeed, and sometimes fail. That whatever our capabilities, we cannot be perfect; to strive for perfection is futile.

It is a well-known fact that we often grow more from their failings and their weaknesses than from our successes and their strengths. But we can only grow from them if we embrace them, acknowledge them and accept them a part of our character. If we deny them, pretend they didn't exist, then we can't learn from them.

Ask a recovered alcoholic or drug abuser. It was only when they were able to accept their weakness and integrate it into their awareness of themselves that they were able to overcome their addiction. Ask someone who is divorced and happily remarried. It is only when they can face their own shortcomings in the relationship that a better, more positive marriage can be built the second time around. And those who don't face them often wind up making the same mistakes over again.

By suggesting that the broken shards of the first set of the Ten Commandments were placed in the Ark of the Covenant along side the whole tablets, the Rabbis are teaching us about our own wholeness. We have to collect the broken shards of our lives and place them along side our whole parts in order to grow and become better human beings.

I sometimes ask people, "If you were in good health and had all the material possessions you need, what would you ask for?" Invariably the answer comes back something like, "Peace of mind." Whenever I hear that, I am reminded that the Hebrew word for peace, shalom, comes from a root word that means wholeness. Wholeness in a person can only come when we are able to embrace the broken parts of our personalities as well as the together ones.

A story. John, not his real name, was married for 5 years. One day his wife came to him and informed him that she had been unhappy almost from the beginning and wanted a divorce. John thought they had a pretty good marriage and was more than a little shocked by this. He convinced her to come see me, and after a session or two with them I suggested some marriage counseling. The wife was luke warm to the idea at first but eventually agreed.

Six months later, John and his wife were happier than they had ever been. The counseling worked. I asked them to come and see me and share with me what had happened that brought them back together. John's wife told me that as part of the counseling she began to talk about some things that had happened to her in her childhood, nothing severe like child abuse or anything like that. Just things about herself that she had ignored. In particular she recalled that whenever she didn't like the way a relationship with a friend was going, rather than talk it out or find out what was wrong, she would just walk away and blame it on the friend, chalk it up to something bad about the other person. After a few sessions, she began to realize that in fact some of the things that had caused the relationships to end were her doing. Nothing terrible. But her unwillingness to embrace that she might have done something wrong was a flaw.

As they sorted through their marriage, she realized that over the 5 years of their marriage, time after time, she had done the same thing with her husband. Whenever she was unhappy, she automatically blamed him for her unhappiness. She began to realize her snap judgment that if something is wrong in a relationship it had to be the other person was major flaw. She had never even considered that she rather than her husband might be doing something to cause her unhappiness,. She began to sort through the things that caused her to be unhappy and realized that she had a role to play in it.

It was when this woman was able to embrace her brokenness, her imperfection - when she was able to see herself fully - that she was able to embrace herself and her relationship with her husband fully. It wasn't a fault her husband could see in her and point out to her; it was one she had to discover for herself. They, by the way, are still married today, some ten or more years later, and have three wonderful children, and are extremely happy.

Embracing our brokenness. Accepting the parts of ourselves that we may not like, our shortcomings, as well as the things about ourselves that are strong and good is embracing our humanity. And unless and until we can do that, we will never be able to grow beyond them. Just as our ancestors, according to the Rabbis, placed the broken shards of the first set of commandments into the Ark along side the whole tablets, we need to embrace our brokenness as well as our wholeness.

Let us pray for the strength, and the wisdom, to do so. To see our full selves when we look into the mirror that reflects our character is, to quote Hamlet, "a consummation devoutly to be wished." Ken y'hi ratson - May this be so. Amen.