Somewhere in Time

Somewhere in Time:

Pinchas 5786

Do you remember how during COVID, we all had these travel fantasies of places we would go if we weren’t under lockdown? My travel fantasy was Mackinac Island, Michigan. I watched countless tourism videos and dreamed of attending the annual Lilac Festival. Well, three weeks ago, that dream came true, and my partner and I got to see it for ourselves.

A picturesque island in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, Mackinac already has much to recommend it. Crystal clear lakewater lapping at the shore, Victorian cottages in every color of the rainbow, and a one-lane downtown that’s more fudge shop than any other kind of store. But the unique thing about Mackinac Island is how you get around. In 1898, the islanders outlawed automobiles. You can only travel the eight miles of perimeter by either bicycle or horse-drawn carriage. Mackinac Island is a place that is frozen somewhere in time.

Literally. Some of you might know the 1980 cult classic that was filmed on Mackinac, Somewhere in Time, about a man who time travels to the island’s Grand Hotel and falls in love with an actress born a century prior. Trust me, we made a meal out of that movie’s cheesy tagline the entire trip: “Someday…in the past…he will find her.” But the prevailing atmosphere of the island is that while you visit, you are experiencing America in a different era, when the land was mostly frontier and the only way around was by horse-drawn carriages. It’s an in-your-face reminder of the past.

The Torah portion this week, Pinchas, has a similar reminder for the Israelites. Buried in a long list of names of wilderness-wandering Israelites, you might miss it. Even if you read it, you might not understand its implications. But after a list of the descendants of Asher, Jacob’s eighth son, a verse tells us, “The name of Asher’s daughter was Serach.”

Little problem here. This is a list of descendants of Asher who are in the wilderness. Serach, who was the granddaughter of the patriarch Jacob, should be long dead by now. She was born before the Israelites were ever enslaved in Egypt and came with her family when Joseph—Technicolor Dreamcoat Joseph—invited them to settle there. That was over four hundred years ago. What is she doing in the wilderness? Why is she on this list?

The rabbis of old noticed that Serach was mentioned in Genesis and then again in Numbers, and they came to the conclusion that this four hundred year gap could be accounted for by immortality. A story was woven that when Joseph’s brothers learned that he was still alive, they decided to break the news to their elderly father Jacob by having his granddaughter, a talented musician named Serach, sing the news to him so he wouldn’t die of shock. In his joy, Jacob blessed Serach so that “death will never prevail against [her].” Her reward for telling Jacob that Joseph was alive and thriving in Egypt is immortal life.

That might be the explanation the rabbis come up with for why Serach’s name is mentioned in two different books of the Bible. But that’s not where her story ends. Serach’s name and influence continue throughout Jewish literature. In the Talmud, there’s another story about her. When the Israelites prepare for the Exodus, Moses asks around to find out where Joseph’s bones are buried, since it was his dying wish to be buried in the land of Israel. He pays a visit to Serach—who was there, in person, when Joseph died. She informs him that Joseph was buried in the Nile River, and Moses begins the recovery effort.

But that’s not all. One story finds Serach, still alive and kicking, four hundred years after the Exodus. This time, she’s living under the rule of King David, negotiating with David’s generals to keep the peace in her town. Another story finds her in the late Second Temple period, listening outside the study hall as a great sage tells his students what it might have been like to walk through the parted waters of the Sea of Reeds. When the sage gets the description of the water wrong, she interrupts him and tells the students, “I was there, and the waters were like shining windows.”

So what happened to Serach? Well, there’s a tradition that Serach lived the final centuries of her life in Persia, dying in a great synagogue fire there. The rebuilt synagogue was named in her honor, and the room that supposedly houses her tomb may only be entered by people of good character.

Serach was living history to the Jewish people. She had witnessed thousands of years of triumph and catastrophe. If the Jewish people wanted to know what life was like in a bygone era, they only had to ask. Serach was someone to measure their progress against. But she also kept them honest. People couldn’t make false claims about what the past was like; she was there to correct them and maintain an accurate picture of that era. She was their Mackinac Island. The past cannot be denied when it’s speaking to you, or—in the case of Mackinac Island—all around you.

People like Serach, places like Mackinac: these are treasures we cannot take for granted. They connect us to our past in a way media can’t. They force us to feel it and even, perhaps, live it, if only for a few days’ vacation. But thankfully, Mackinac Island is not the only place that offers this, and Serach wasn’t the only person. There are living history museums and historic sites that give us these crucial glimpses into the past all over the world. New York City boasts plenty of them. But if we can’t manage a visit, we probably have someone in our lives who is our own Serach. Or maybe we function as that person. Someone who connects us vividly to the past with memories and warnings and recollections. And we don’t get to keep them forever. Even Serach eventually perished after a few thousand years. That’s what makes it of the utmost importance to hear their stories now so we can experience the past through them and internalize the lessons it contains.

Identify your Serach. Make a phone call or pay a visit. Ask the questions that will turn into enlightening conversations. Maybe even ask if you might record the interview so their words and expressions are captured exactly. Or if you find yourself in your Serach era of life, maybe it’s time to record your own experience of the world to leave to us. Let’s share in the bounty of collective wisdom, as our people have for so many thousands of years. In that sacred sharing, in that sacred learning, we find ourselves everywhere—and everywhen—in time.