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.