It used to be that when people used the term “the good old days,” they were referring to a time of their youth or childhood. In 2022, when we refer to the good old days, many of us are referring to anytime before 2020.
The fact of the
matter is that here in Parshas Chukas we have confirmation that it is human
nature to paint the past in a euphoric light. “Why have you taken us out of Egypt to bring us to this evil
place” (Bamidbar 20:5). Right, because Egypt was better than being in
the Wilderness in which Hashem has been taking care of everything!
It’s true, the Children of Israel were frightened that they
were losing leaders, that they needed a new source of water. But the
exaggeration of the term hamakom harah, this evil place, tells us a lot about
their state of mind. Even if one were to say that they felt this way because
they had witnessed their brethren dying, it still does not make sense. Every
death was clearly attributable to the punishment determined and declared by
Hashem after the incident of the spies. The closest thing to “evil” that occurred
to them was having consequences for their own behavior, and yet this was enough
for them to think back fondly on Egypt. Perhaps we can understand it like a university
student who is suddenly faced with new standards of work and responsibility and
thinks back on the idyllic life they had in high school, when in reality they
spent high school wishing for something else.
Idealizing the past is normal. It’s easy. After all, we have
already survived that state of being, and so we know that we can continue to do
so. Indeed, often when we look to the past, we see not just how we survived,
but how we thrived – no matter what those circumstances actually were…and that
longing for the safety and security of the past colors not just the then, but
the now as well. Especially when the present gets difficult.
“Why have you taken us out of Egypt to bring us to this evil
place; it is not a place for seeds, or for fig trees, grapevines, or
pomegranate trees, and there is no water to drink” (Ibid).
We forget, rather easily, that life is a journey, that our
goal in life is to grow and to attain spiritual rewards. For Bnei Yisrael in
the wilderness, that ultimate spiritual reward was the land of Israel, and that
place in the desert was only a stop on the journey … so of course it did not
have seeds or fig trees, grapevines or pomegranate trees. It wasn’t supposed to.
The rose-colored glasses with which we view the past are
often the direct result of our current day discontent. Every moment of our
lives is colored by that which has come before. Human beings are expert
complainers, experts at looking around and wondering why the world is not
meeting our standards. What we need to become are experts at looking ahead.
Today is hard; tomorrow, imertz Hashem, I will be planting grapevines and pomegranate
trees.
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