Parshas Matos-Masai: Lessons in Communication

 Warning: This Dvar Torah may upset people with strong feminist views.

 Parshas Matos-Masai begins with a topic that, on first read, might seem troubling to a modern-day woman. After one verse (30:3) stating that a man who makes a vow is required to uphold that vow, the Torah goes into a rather detailed explanation of the vows of women and, some might say, how easily those vows can be nullified.

 Bamidbar 30:4 begins with basic terminology: v’eesha ki tidor neder – If a woman makes a vow… but the first example is quickly explained to be a woman still living in her father’s house for reason of her youth. This woman, living in her father’s house, can make a vow or a self-imposed obligation and must keep it…unless her father objects (30:6) that day. If she has taken it upon herself while single and then gets married, her new husband can nullify that vow (30:9). Verses 11-17 describe the similar rules that apply to a married woman making a vow or a self-imposed obligation but in more detail, details that offer us great insight into the importance of communication in marriage.

 The husband of a woman who makes a vow has the ability to nullify the vow of his wife, but only if he does so within the day of hearing of her vow. This, it should be pointed out, is an interesting use of language. The nullification does not have to occur on the day the vow was made, but rather on the day that her husband learns of the vow. She is not, it appears, under an obligation to tell her husband about her vow, which allows her time to lay down the foundations for him to understand her actions so that when he does learn of them, he will not object.

 The Torah is then very explicit: “If her husband offers no objection from that day to the next, he has upheld all the vows or obligations she has assumed: he has upheld them by offering no objection on the day he found out” (30:15).

 The Torah goes to great length stressing that the husband has one day to object to the vow or self-imposed obligation. If he objects two weeks later, or even two days later, he shall bear the guilt for every time his wife does something contrary to her vow or obligation.

 The Torah wants marriage and family to succeed. It recognizes a dynamic in the pairing of male and female for him to seek a sense of being respect and her to seek affection and “protection” (yes, this is a broad generalization and a far more complicated discussion). The husband is given the role of head of the house because he needs that respect. That role does not mean he is greater/she is lesser. It is practical in that, until most recent history, a man’s role was to be protector and provider. He needed a strong sense of importance to do his job well, a sense of others depending on him. This need has not changed, even in the world of white-collar jobs and two income families. Torah philosophy consistently defines the masculine as the giver, and the giver thrives on being needed and respected for his efforts.

 The feminine, on the other hand, is the receiver and thus the one who feels fulfilled by being given to. These definitions create the dynamic brought to fruition in halacha for a “Head of the Household.” This dynamic is precisely the issue at play in the question of vows, and the unstated solution to a sense of restriction is communication.

 It is easy to see the subject in these pasukim as seconding women, except that there are some very specific words that show it is not about women per se but about a woman’s place in her family. The first halacha stated above is for a woman living in her father’s household due to her youth. This may set off concern to the modern-day reader, but the actuality is clarified in the Shulchan Aruch: “After six months of adulthood (physical maturity as defined by halacha), she is fully independent, and the father no longer has authority over her vows” (Shulchan Aruch Yoreh De'ah 234:1). One could see the time when the father can restrict her vows as the tumultuous time period of early adolescence, which to many parents might make sense.

 Bamidbar 30:10, set in-between the young bride whose husband nullifies vows she made in her youth and the vows of a wife, states: “The vow of a widow or of a divorced woman, however, whatever she has imposed on herself, shall be binding upon her” (30:10). They are the same category as a woman not living under her father’s household.

 A woman is not seen as less capable or less reliable than a man in determining her future. Rather, the Torah is here recognizing that the role of Baal HaBayit (Head of the House) is given to the man. He is set as the captain of the ship so that he may best fulfill his role of giver, as protector and provider. To maintain this dynamic, the Torah restricts ways in which a woman might undermine her husband but, at the same time, limits the ways in which a man might manipulate his wife. And this leaves us at a critical juncture in which reading deeper provides a valuable lesson. If a wife wants to make a vow that will affect the household (and that covers most things since each member of a household is a cog in its functioning), she should discuss it with the head of that household. If a husband does not like changes made by his wife by having taken a vow, he cannot just nullify it once it has been accepted; rather, he must speak to her in order that she agrees to nullify it for herself.

 And, thus, we come to the age old lesson on the importance of communication.

 I wish you all a beautiful Shabbas.  

 

 

 

 

Parshas Pinchas – The Power of Standing Up

 Dedicated to a Refuah Shelaima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, and Sharon bas Shoshana

 

Parshas Pinchas is a parsha that focuses on bravery and heroism, on stepping forward in order to ensure that the correct path is followed. The greatest heroics in Parshas Pinchas, however, are not the remembrance of Pinchas’ act of casting his spear at the unabashed Zimri and Cosbi. Rather, the greatest act of bravery came from Machla, Noa, Chagla, Milca, and Tirza.

 

The story of the daughters of Tzelafchad is well-known. They requested of Moshe that they inherit their father’s portion in the upcoming allotments of the Promised Land. Moshe asked Hashem what to do. Hashem not only stated that the sisters were correct but set out the laws of inheritance to include daughters when there is no male heir. 

 

The sages note that these women were “wise, they are interpreters [of verses], and they are righteous. [That] they are wise [can be seen from the fact] that they spoke in accordance with the moment, (they presented their case at an auspicious time). As Rabbi Shmuel bar Rav Yitzḥak says: Tradition teaches that Moshe our teacher was sitting and interpreting in the Torah portion about men whose married brothers had died childless, as it is stated: “If brothers dwell together, [and one of them dies…]” (Bava Batra 119b:).

 

Bamidbar Rabbah 21:11 states: “What was their wisdom? It is that they spoke at that moment when Moshe was engaged in the portion of the inheritances: ‘To these the land shall be distributed’ (Bamidbar 26:53). They said to him: If we are like a son, let us inherit. If not, let our mother be subject to levirate marriage.” If a woman who bore a daughter did not need to go into a levirate marriage, then one could understand that a daughter had rights to inheritance like a son when there is no son.

 

Their claim was not a fancy or a whim but a complex aspect of halacha. Their goal was similar to the goal of the levirate Marriage – that the name of their family would not be lost to history.

 

We don’t often think of something like a legal assertion as being heroic, but what happened with the daughters of Tzelaphchad was as brave as that which happened with Pinchas. Pinchas knew the law and carried out that law by killing Zimri (and Cosbi). The daughters of Tzelaphchad knew the law and stood up to declare that it need to be enforced. 

 

They did something incredibly difficult and brave. They stood up and spoke out for themselves. 

 

This may not seem like such a brave thing, but it is something which should not be dismissed. The other recorded times in the Torah when someone approached Moshe with a challenge or a request things didn’t turn out so well (the spies, Korach, the complainers). The Or HaChaim notes that the Zohar in Parshas Balak comments that the daughters confronted Moshe with others around because they were worried that he would hold a bias against them. He writes: “Why would [women] who have been described as righteous by the Talmud assume that Moshe had hatred in his heart against them or their late father? … It is possible that they were afraid that just as with the people who had complained in Parshat Beha-a-lotcha, as well as the spies who had forfeited their inheritance in the land because they had raised their voices against Moshe and against G'd, Moshe would rule similarly against them on account of the sin of their late father” (Or HaChaim on Numbers 27:2:3).

 

The real bravery was not overcoming their fear of bias, however. Rather it was that these women saw that the law needed to be clarified and they did not leave it for someone else to speak up. Whether we like to discuss it or not, approaching the assembly and appealing to Moshe was entering the realm of the man’s world. In the Jewish world, halacha and its discernment is very much in the man’s realm. They didn’t let that stop them. They knew what their rights were, and they didn’t fall back to thinking of themselves as just helpless maidens or insignificant women. They stood up and put halacha first.

 

Little is known about the individual sisters. However, Hebrewversity .com had this interesting understanding of their names:

“Machla – like the Hebrew verb ‘Le-Cholel’ - which means ‘to move’ (and ‘to dance’ in Modern Hebrew). Noha -like the Hebrew verb ‘La-Nua’ - which means ‘to move’ as well. Choglah  – like the Hebrew verb ‘La-Chug’ – which means ‘to circle.’ Milcah – like the Hebrew verb ‘La-Lechet’ - which means ‘to walk.’ And Tirzah – like the Hebrew verb ‘La-Rutz’ – which means ‘to run.’

As you probably noticed they ALL have something to do with the concept of ‘moving’ naturally but in Hebrew ALL of these verbs are also connected to the concept of ‘initiating’ or simply ‘be active’ and that was precisely what the daughters of Zelophehad symbolized. (Hebrewversity .com)

 

The daughters of Tzelaphchad  - Machla, Noa, Chagla, Milca, and Tirza – moved Klal Yisrael. They refused to be complacent when they knew of a wrong that needed to be righted. They longed to move forward and have their descendants flourish uniquely among the burgeoning nation. And so they took action and Hashem said Kain- yes.

 

May we all have the strength to stand up when it is right and to present our needs calmly and respectfully and may our actions move us and all of Klal Yisrael ever forward. 

Parshas Balak: The Real Evil

 Parshas Balak is, perhaps, the most narratively oriented parsha in Sefer Bamidbar. There are no sections of law nor any descriptions of ritual acts. There is the story of how Bilaam tried to curse the Jews, and, really, that is all.

 The story of Bilaam’s attempt to curse the Jews reverberates throughout history, just as the blessings that came out of his mouth continue to inspire and empower us. As with all of Torah, parshas Balak helps us understand the world a little better – and in this case that means learning more about the insidious nature of our enemies, of the people who hate Bnei Yisrael without even really knowing Bnei Yisrael.

 While reading Parshas Balak, it might be easy to assume the primary enemy of Israel is Bilaam. As wicked as he was, and as desirous as he was to curse Bnei Yisrael, Bilaam was a tool, a weapon…a proxy. Bilaam was the face of evil, but he was in his position because of a puppet master – Balak.

 Balak ben Tzipor’s name is mentioned over and over again in the Parsha, but mostly as he responds to Bilaam. Balak isn’t interesting. He doesn’t actively negotiate, he doesn’t talk to his she-donkey, and he doesn’t speak to Hashem. Nevertheless, the actual enemy  - the one who outrightly seeks to malign the Jews - is Balak ben Tzipor.

 In the year 5785/2025, we can all too well relate the idea of a hidden evil that works through proxies. Money is power. Balak used his wealth to entice Bilaam into action; Iran used their wealth to supply their proxies with weapons. And it didn’t matter how many times God said no or that the proxies were defeated, the enemy does not stop.

 Balak ben Tzipor is not introduced as the king of Moav. This information is only revealed in pasuk daled (4). Rather, the Parsha begins “Balak son of Tzipor saw all that Israel had done to the Amorites. Moab became terrified of the people, for they were numerous…” (Bamidbar 22:2-3). There is a man, and there is a people. The man saw that the Amorites had been defeated, and he chose to ignore the fact that the Amorites were the ones who attacked. Bnei Yisrael asked only for safe passage. They were attacked and then they were victorious, and to Balak that was not normal since the Amorites had been powerful enough to overtake parts of Moab. Balak the man saw that this small, wandering nation had defeated Sichon, and he inflamed his nation to fear.

 Balak ben Tzipor was afraid of Bnei Yisrael because he understood that this was beyond natural. Balak was, according to the Midrash, a sorcerer in his own right. Indeed, from his name it is deduced that his magic was connected to birds (Tzipor). Interestingly, in some cases of Biblical word play, it is acceptable to look at a word with a tzadi and read it as a samech, in which case tzipor (bird) becomes sipor – story.  Such a name transformation explains, perhaps, Bamidbar 22:4: “Moab said to the elders of Midian, ‘Now this assembly will devour everything around us, as the work-bull devours the greens of the field.’ Balak son of Tzipor was king of Moab at that time.” But Bnei Yisrael had not gathered on their border with the intention of attacking. They wanted safe passage. Neverthless, Balak ben Tzipor a man with no great strength, was afraid and built a story about these people.

 Balak fed his people a story, which increased their fear: “Moab dreaded the Israelites” (22:3). The Moabites took that fear and brought the story forward such that now the Israelites become devourers… and by the time Balak has sent his messengers to Bilaam, the Israelites are “a people that came out of Egypt; it hides the earth from view, and it is settled next to me” (22:5).

 According to this message, the Children of Israel seemed so numerous that they covered the world. No hyperbole there? The Torah states in 22:1, at the end of last week’s patsha, “The Israelites journeyed and camped in the plains of Moab, across the Jordan River from Jericho.”  They camped; they did not settle. They were on the plains, not covering all of the earth.

 Today, the Jewish population of the world today is 15.7 million out of 8 billion, and still there are rumors and tales that Jews control the world and are everywhere. Our enemy has, in the last 30 years, learned to weave tales and twist truth so that the goal of trying to destroy the Jewish people can continue. The enemy, like Balak, is willing to give away a fortune and to cultivate proxies, and even to bring in weapons of true destruction. In Balak’s case, Bilaam, was that weapon. Bilaam had the spiritual energy comparable to Moshe, so had his curses succeeded, had the real iron dome of Divine will, not interceded, the Jewish people would have been decimated.

 The narrative of Parshas Balak can seem mystical and mysterious and beyond 21^st century standards of what is normal (the talking donkey and all that), but in fact, it is all too familiar a narrative.  We must, therefore, take special care to notice what happens after Bilaam stops attacking the Israelites, for that is where we failed. When Bilaam stopped attacking the Israelites, he suggested taking down Bnei Yisrael on a moral level, which led to the terrible acts at Baal Peor. As we fight our enemies today, let us not forget who we are and what we stand for both during and after the battles that must be won.

 I wish you alla  beautiful and peace filled Shabbas.

Parshas Chukas: Chizuk in Chukas

The Jewish nation has spent the last nearly two years in a high state of alert and war. Those in Israel have experienced what we in the diaspora cannot imagine, and we in the diaspora have tasted much that we had assumed had been expiated by western idealism (snort). Needless to say, perspectives have shifted.

Throughout all of this, we persevere, and now we have come again to a parsha that is laden with history. Parshas Chukas is most famous for its focus on the red heifer. However, other than teaching us, directly, about the importance of observing chukos, laws for which we have no rationale, this parsha contains a fascinating reminder of the national journey and how rarely it was smooth. Taken together, the second section of Parshas Chukas draws a global picture of the challenge of being a nation dedicated to maintaining emunah and bitachon.

Following the precise directions for the service of the red heifer, the parsha records a series of short but detailed events.  Miriam dies, and with her death, the source of water disappears. This brings the first complaints. The cry of the people is answered with a miracle as Moshe and Aaron bring water from the rock. This is followed by their interaction with the Edomites, who are left in peace even after they were inhospitable.

Let us pause and take that apart:

The people were disheartened by the loss of one of their spiritual leaders. They saw the physical effect her death had on their world, and they were shaken. They were unable to see a way to bring back something attached to someone on such a spiritual high; they were unable to envision that they could strive toward such collective merit. They received a miracle, but that miracle came at a price in which they learn that even their greatest can make a mistake. This was followed by a confrontation with an enemy who did not show them respect and from whom they turned away and avoided. And while they went around Edom because Hashem commanded them not to fight with Edom due to their relationship, it felt, perhaps, as if they were avoiding defeat. Certainly, one can imagine, their rerouting around Edom felt like a disheartening delay.

The Torah then continues with Aaron’s less shocking death (less shocking because Hashem prepared the nation that he would be gathered to his fathers). He transfers his office to his son, but his loss is devastating to the people, as was Miriam’s. Shortly thereafter, they are involved in a skirmish with a group whom the Midrash explains were Amalekits dressed as Canaanites. These soldiers of the king of Arad manage to take captive(s) but are then defeated. Regardless of this victory, however, the people complain once again about their lack of provisions – more specifically about their boredom with the manna. The consequence of this complaint – snakes - is also resolved with a miracle, that of Moshe’s snake-enhanced staff that ends the plague per Hashem’s word.

Seen together, we once again see how the loss of a great leader, the trauma that loss causes to the people, is not just on the metaphysical realm, where a channel to holiness has closed, but on the morale of the people as a whole. The first sign of this shift is, interestingly, in the language used to describe the skirmish with the men of the king of Arad:

“Then Israel made a vow to Hashem and said, ‘If You deliver this people into our hand, we will proscribe their towns.’ Hashem heeded Israel’s plea and delivered up the Canaanites; and they and their cities were proscribed. So that place was named Hormah” (Bamidbar 21:2-3).

Why are they making a vow to Hashem, and why one worded like a bargain? Why are they ignoring who they are and the fact that Hashem has promised to be with them. The answer is, perhaps, that they no longer felt certain. They were recovering from the mortality of those who seemed like pillars of existence to them.

When there is a lack of morale, when people are stuck in a “why us” mindframe, there is often a waning of emuna and bitachon. When there is a lack of morale, the people complain: “Why did you make us leave Egypt to die in the wilderness? There is no bread and no water” (Bamidbar 21:5). When there is a lack of emuna and bitachon, the problem goes deeper: “and we have come to loathe this miserable food” (ibid.).

The plague of poisonous snakes that followed was not because they complained of physical discomfort, of being hungry and thirsty. Hashem had heard this complaint before. The plague of poisonous snakes was direct result of the viper of despair that they had allowed to grow within their midst from the death of Aaron.

National tragedies, complaints, wars, and miracles – a rather startling combination repeated twice, repeated throughout history. Alas, within all that is occurring in the third decade of the 21^st century (or the 9^th decade of the 58^th century, depending on the calendar), it seems that Parshas Chukas has great resonance. The question is how we hear it? History may repeat itself, but our response in each repetition is what becomes significant. It is up to us to avoid “vipers of despair,” and to reach for new opportunities to develop a connection to Hashem.

 

Parshas Shelach: Finding Bitachon

The parsha of Shelach is one that reverberates through history. It is, as is commonly known, the source of Tisha B’av, as the day that the Jews cried out their fear of entering the Promised Land was the 9th of Av; and, alas, throughout history, Hashem has given us reasons to feel true sorrow on that day.

Parshas Shelach is a parsha from which one can mine deep hashgafic questions and delve into the relationship of Klal Yisrael and Eretz Yisrael. This year, however, it seems almost cavalier to discuss the situation in Eretz Yisrael, as if it is minimalizing the events taking place, chas v’shalom. However, not noting the important connections to this week’s parsha would, perhaps, be obscuring an opportunity to work on ourselves as individuals and as a nation.

One of the most frequently spoken of lessons from Parshas Shelach is one of distorted reality and the power of language. The scouts returned and described what they saw in such a way as to disparage the land and make it seem as if a terrible fate awaited them. And the nation believed them… and cried… and were punished. We often wonder how this could have happened - how leaders of the shevatim could have forgotten everything Hashem had done for them and seen such a negative space. 

The sin of the scouts has been writ large in 5785. It hasn’t been just our enemies who have vilified klal Yisrael, but our own fellow Jews who have joined rallies that distort reality and spread lies, that repeat old tropes of anti-Semitism in a new light. What started as a sliver of negative voices persisted and grew throughout the last almost 2 years, and it has an effect. Doubt begets doubt; people are drawn to a negative world view and a sense of doom - just look at the news. 

Noticing the effect of these voices, however, is a reminder to Klal Yisrael that our view of the world - of world events and of personal events - should be filtered with the lens of bitachon. 

One of the primary concepts that are drawn from Parshas Shelach is the importance of understanding emunah and bitachon. On the verge of entering the Promised Land, the people asked Moshe if they could send men to scout out the land. They spoke of their motive as a need to know what they would be facing, as a lacking in themselves, but they were projecting. They were not doubting their abilities; they were doubting the divine promise. Their emunah was strong; they did not doubt Hashem as the ultimate power. What was lacking was their bitachon, their belief that Hashem intercedes for them in the common actions of mankind. Bnei Yisrael could believe in miracles, especially after they had lived through so many wondrously- miraculous situations, but they had trouble believing in the continued manifestation of that help. They looked at the world from their perspective only and neglected to remember the basic bitachon. What we perceive as miracles are simply larger demonstrations of what Hashem does every moment of every day of every life. 

This is all too relatable to 5785. In truth, this lesson is relatable in all times - not just in crisis. It is all too common to believe in Hashem and to believe in His guidance of the world, while, at the same time, not truly trusting what the future will bring. Bitachon in its highest practice is understanding that Hashem will make the best future for you (whether it is what you want or not does not always reconcile). We try to view the world as if it is in our control, but far, far greater guidance is always at play.

The world at large wants to believe that they have control, that they have power. They want to attribute their successes to themselves alone (and their defeats, of course, to someone else). Those who have joined the ranks of Hamas supporters, who chant terrible slogans and look the other way, deliberately, at acts of violent anti-Semitism believe the reality they are looking for rather than the reality of Hashem’s world. The scouts came back and reported that the land devoured its inhabitants when, as the Midrash details, Hashem caused illness in the land so that the Cananites would be preoccupied while the scouts were wandering the land. The scouts wanted to have a reason to avoid entering the Promised Land. They were afraid of what the next step in life would be.

It’s possible, even probable, that they themselves did not understand their underlying fears and motivations. We often neglect to analyze our own drives. And it is possible, even probable, that the biggest fear they had was living bitachon. 

Bitachon is the heartbeat of Jewish faith. Accepting that everything Hashem does is for the good is easy in words and much more challenging in thought and action. Recognizing that we must put in effort even as Hashem controls all outcomes is almost contrary to human nature… but that is the work that we all strive to do on ourselves. That is the essence of living Torah. 

The world right now is in a crossroad of upheaval. It feels like so many facets are out of control and misaligned. None of that is by chance. None of that is human doing alone. The lesson we can take from Parshas Shelach is that it is the responsibility of Klal Yisrael, of the nation who has benefitted and continues to benefit, from so many miracles, to look beyond the surface and find the reality of Divine will in our lives. 

I speak this lesson of bitachon to myself as I remind myself that when it is the right time, Hashem will fit all the pieces together for us to be able to bring Shevi home. For now, however, I hope that she can see the miracles involved when Israel is at war.

May this Shabbas be one that brings blessing and peace and hatzlacha to the world and to Klal Yisrael in particular.  

Parshas Behalosecha: The Path was Always Meant to be Hard

 Parshas Behalosecha: The Path was Always Meant to be Hard

 Dedicated with tefilos for the safety of klal Yisrael in this tenuous time, and to a refuah shelaima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, and Sharon bas Shoshana

 Do you know what happened on the 20^th of Iyar, the second month of the year when you count from Passover. Before you invest time trying to remember all your high school classes or to rack your brain thinking of a holiday that falls on the 20^th of Iyar, know that it is a date with a rare status. It is in the Torah, but it is not a chag.

 The 20^th of Iyar was the day the Jews left Horev, left the base camp around Har Sinai. It was a big deal. They weren’t leaving Har Sinai with the intent to go wander in the Midbar for 38 more years. They were heading for the Promised Land.

 What is interesting is that the Torah provides us with such a specific date. One might think that it was something we would continue to note, that there would be some spiritual resonance as we see on so many other specific dates. Wasn’t Hashem assembling us and setting us in motion an indication that we were ready?

 Bnei Yisrael probably thought so. They probably thought they had resolved their issues.  I mean, look at the time frame: They had been at Har Sinai almost an entire year, and that can feel like a long time. True, a little over forty days after they arrived they had undone themselves with the Chait Haegel, but there had been repercussions – deaths – and there had been heartfelt teshuva. Moshe had returned again to the mountaintop for another forty days, and thus the first 100 days (roughly, obviously) had passed.

 To a human being, one year (and we see this is less) can feel like an incredibly long period of time. And while research may suggest that it takes two months to form or break a habit, changing deeper personal issues, such as addiction, requires a much longer commitment. Bnei Yisrael’s habits had changed. They seemed more present and capable on the externals because they were more focused on the right actions and goals, but deep down they had not truly repaired their weaknesses. Bnei Yisrael only looked ready on the surface. From the very chapter where we are set in motion, we see the fading of our spiritual resilience. Hardly had the nation set out then the complaints began. Most famously, from this week’s parsha, is the demand for meat. There was literally food falling from the sky and a raucous group of people wanted to know where the McDs was, so to speak.

 So why did we go? Why did Hashem begin the journey since, surely, He understood Bnei Yisrael’s true state? Perhaps the answer is that the journey had to start. Ready or not here I come, as we all say in childhood. You can’t grow if you stay in the same place. You have to take the journey in order to get to the destination. You have to fight your own inclinations in order to really change.

 Moshe, a man, was frustrated and distraught by the continual complaints and weaknesses of Bnei Yisrael, as we see in Bamidbar 11:11-15

Moses said to God, “Why have You treated me, Your servant, so badly? Why have I not found favor in Your regard, that You place the burden of this entire people upon me? Did I conceive this entire people? Did I give birth to them, that You say to me, ‘Carry them in your bosom, as a nursing woman carries a suckling,’ to the land You promised their forefathers? Where can I get meat to give all these people? For they are crying to me, saying, ‘Give us meat to eat.’ I cannot carry the responsibility of this entire people alone, for it is too hard for me. If this is the way You want to treat me, please kill me first, if I have found favor in Your regard, so that I not see my evil.”

Hashem’s anger, perhaps, was not at their actions but at the frustration at the fact that so many of them were not doing the necessary internal work that was necessary. He did not care that they wanted meat; He cared that they thought He could not provide it. He cared that they could not see beyond the immediate and the physical when the going got tough – and it wasn’t that tough.

 Thus Hashem declared “Is there a limit to Hashem’s power? You shall soon see whether what I have said happens to you or not!” (11:23). Those words, powerful in the situation at hand, are even more powerful over the resonance of world history. Life, individual and national, was never going to be easy. The need and desire for easy was not how Hashem designed the world. Easy does not lead to appreciation or connection or growth. It leads to apathy.

 Anyone who expects life to be easy has not read the Torah with open eyes. Hashem never promised Bnei Yisrael a walk in the park. It is interesting to note that we see this even in the previous perek when Hashem commands the fashioning of the two silver trumpets and explains that they are to be sounded to bring the people to assemble or to commence the movement of the camp. Then, however, Hashem added that

“If you go to war in your land against an adversary who attacks you, you must blow a teru’ah with the trumpets and be remembered favorably before God, your God, and thus be saved from your enemies. On your joyous days, on your festivals, and on your new-moon celebrations, you must blow a teki’ah on the trumpets, over your ascent-offerings and your peace-promoting feast-offerings, and it will be a remembrance before your God; I am God, your God” (10:9-10).

 There will be war. There will be struggle. But there will be feasts and festivals and joy. This is life. This is the only path to growth, and we, Bnei Yisrael, each have our individual journeys through which we develop our spiritual muscles, and our journey as a nation.

 I wish you all a beautiful Shabbas and hatzlacha on your path of growth.

Parshas Bamidbar: Organizing Ourselves for Society

 Do you get the sense that the world is “messy” right now? Like there was a period, perhaps even less than a decade ago, when it felt like the world was starting to come together as a cohesive-ish unit (okay, barring Israel and the Divinely ordained disconnect), but now everything seems to be breaking down? Certainly, there is a sense from the news (which, of course, loves to poke and enflame problems) that law and order has dissolved in Western Society.

 

This week, we are brought back to Sefer Bamidbar. In English, this sefer is known as the Book of Numbers because it opens with a counting of Bnei Yisrael. The beginning of Sefer Bamidbar is about something incredibly important on a more global scale. The first parsha of Sefer Bamidar is about order.  This week’s parsha not only covers Moshe taking a census (because knowing how many people one has is important), but also appointing tribal leaders, providing placement instructions for each tribe during encampment, and organizing the specific jobs for maintaining the Mishkan.

 

These events, this parsha, is placed in time, according to the Chabad.org source, one month after the inauguration of the Mishkan and several weeks before the Jews will depart from Mount Sinai…” At Har Sinai, our nation was forged into a unit. We received the Torah, and that was wonderful, but we couldn’t move forward in living a full Torah life until we put into place the necessary systems to do so.

 

In just a few days, we will celebrate Shavuos, that holiday the commemorates and celebrates receiving the Torah on Har Sinai. The Torah is a blueprint for living, for fulfilling our spiritual tafkid (purpose). Many mitzvos put order to the spiritual world, but here Hashem made certain that we put order to the physical world of our people as well.

 

It is often said that the politics swings like a pendulum. A leader takes things too far to the left, and the right swoops in to correct. In far too many situations, the swing of that pendulum is extreme. Chaos on the left; Suffocation on the right – And most people, really, just wanting to live in the moderate middle (or a little the right or a little to the left). From Parshas Bamidbar we are reminded that for society to move forward, we must stop and take stock of who we are, organize ourselves for our strengths, choose good leaders, and only then can we begin to move forward.

 

This was short, sweet -  I hope- and probably a little chaotic, but I hope it gave you a sense of connection to the parsha and the times we live in. I wish you all a good Shabbas and a Good Yom Tov.