Parshas Shelach – When and Where and Why

People often joke that students taking classes in psychology are prone to “diagnosing” their friends, to analyzing the personalities of those close to them. The truth is that it is human nature to want to understand what makes others “tick,” most probably as a way to help us understand our own motivations. Parshas Shelach is a parasha that leaves particularly gaping opportunities for asking the question “But why?”

You might think that this question is directed at the primary narrative of Parshas Shelach, the narrative of the scouts who misrepresented Eretz Yisrael to the nation and therefore caused their entire generation to be denied entry into the Promised Land. And, indeed, understanding why they behaved as they did is the source of a great number of commentaries and divrei Torah. Tucked at the very end of the parsha, however, is a completely different narrative - that of the man who gathered wood on Shabbas and received the death penalty for it.

This narrative is contained in five verses, Bamidbar 15:32-36, that begin with a vague statement of time: “And it was when the Israelites were in the wilderness…” Being in the wilderness, according to many commentators, such as Ibn Ezra and Rashi, is understood as being in the Wilderness of Sinai. According to other mepharshim, such as the Ramban, the incident took place in the greater wilderness after the report of the scouts.

If the incident occurred in the Wilderness of Sinai, then it happened shortly after the Jewish people received the commandment to remember the Sabbath day. In fact, Rashi notes that it would have been the second Shabbas. Indeed, he cites the idea that had Bnei Yisrael managed to keep two shabbasim, mashiach would (have) come.

Assuming it was the second Shabbas since the Israelites had been commanded to remember the holy day, one can speculate that perhaps the man forgot, or perhaps he didn’t understand. Assuming it was the second Shabbas, maybe he did not truly conceive of what the punishment would be, even though it had already been declared a capital crime. The idea of the man forgetting, explains the Daas Zkainim, connects this section to the final section of the parsha, which is the commandment to wear tzitzit as a constant reminder of Hashem’s presence. According to this commentary, Moshe told Hashem that it was because tefillin are not worn on Shabbas that the man forgot, so Hashem commanded tzitzit as a constantly available mitzvah for men.

It is interesting to note that the section just prior to the narrative of the man collecting wood discusses bringing a karbon for a shogaig, an unintentional action. Torah law leaves a lot of room for teshuva and very little blame for accidental actions. This, however, leads one to question why, if the man simply forgot, was he sentenced to death? The sages state that those who “came upon” him were witnesses who warned him, for capital punishment can only be decreed if at least 2 witnesses saw the person and warned them against the transgression. We are then left with the question that if he was warned, how can it be a situation of having forgotten?

Assuming that the man collected the sticks on Shabbas after the scouts had returned and the people rebelled, then the hypothesis of the why changes. There is no possible “he forgot” in a camp full of men and women who had kept Shabbas for at least a year. If the entire camp of over a million people are keeping Shabbas, it seems unlikely that he lacked awareness. That fact and the understood warning make one think of the two verses concluding the section on karbanos for accidental incident that precedes it:

 “And the person who acts with a high hand, whether from the community or a stranger, and reviles Hashem, that person shall be cut off from within the people; because it was the word of Hashem that was spurned, and his mitzvos were violated, that person shall be cut off and bears the guilt” (15:30-31).

This is a far more difficult situation. The use of the phrase “high hand” implies that there is a deliberate arrogance in this person’s transgressions. But perhaps that is the case of the wood-gatherer. Perhaps in reaction to the incident of the scouts and to the new knowledge that he himself would never see the Promised Land, we find an insight into the man’s mind-frame. Perhaps we can speculate that the man had a great need to test the boundaries of Hashem’s commandments and Hashem’s forgiveness, which was not the right reaction, but which could be understandable in the realms of human psychology.

To make matters all-together more confusing, there is one Midrashic commentary that notes that the man who gathered wood was named Tzelophchad, famous for his five daughters, and that he acted deliberately. Tzelaphchad, this midrash says, actually sacrificed himself for the greater good. He chose to commit a capital crime so that other Jews would see the complete process of the Torah’s system of law. This motivation could, in fact, place the incident of the wood gatherer in either interpretation of the wilderness.

One might, of course, determine that the man’s motivations are irrelevant as the punishment was the same either way. Put together, however, one realizes that both ignorance and arrogance – either insolent arrogance or benevolent arrogance - leave us prone to making mistakes.

When the man was seen gathering wood, he was brought to Moshe, Aaron, and the community leaders, who placed him under guard, “for it had not been clarified what should be done to him” (15:33-34). Moshe then sought out guidance on how to handle the incident. This is significant to our discussion of motivation. The desire to try to understand another person’s reasoning is natural, but we must always remember that only Hashem is truly capable of understanding a person’s motivation. Indeed, Hashem sees through even the lies we tell ourselves about why we act as we do.

Why did the man gather sticks on Shabbas? We will probably never know. Does it matter? Only in that it helps bring the events into perspective. There are many, many reasons that people transgress. Sometimes we simply mess up and sometimes we deliberately disobey. We are, however, far less likely to do so when we make ourselves mindful of Hashem’s constant presence.