Watch Your Step
In a certain sense we may view this week’s Torah reading as being
the concluding chapters of the written Torah of Moshe itself. Even though the
fifth book of the written Torah, the book of Dvarim, is also to be treated with
the holiness and eternal awe, regarding the four preceding books, there are
opinions in the Talmud that they are to be assigned to a different category as
far as rabbinic exegesis is concerned.
There is no question that there is a definite tone of finality in
the concluding chapter of this week’s Torah reading. The story of the formation
of the Jewish people into a nation through its exodus from Egyptian slavery and
its forty-year sojourn in the desert of Sinai is now complete. A new generation
of Jews, no longer constrained and embittered by slavery in Egypt, now stands
at the threshold of entering the promised land. The great leaders of Israel who
have guided them to this point in their national existence have all passed on.
And, in the case of Moshe, he is about to leave them for his eternal reward.
It is interesting to note that as this story of nation building
concludes, the Torah chooses to record for us a review of the encampments of
the Jewish people in the desert of Sinai. The Torah does not intend this to be
a travelogue. Rather, it is meant to create that necessary ingredient of
national memory that alone can preserve the Jewish people throughout its long
history and many challenges. For without that national memory, Jews generally
and individually are lost in the swirl of current events and changing fortunes.
As Rashi points out, each of the way
stations and encampments listed in this week’s Torah reading represents an
event in the history of the Jewish people. It is not merely a list of places
and oases that exist in the Sinai desert but rather it is meant to focus the
memory of the people on the events, triumphs and mishaps that were experienced
in the development of the Jewish nation.
The Torah could well have omitted
mentioning these places and just given us a general overview of the fact that
we were freed from Egyptian bondage, witnessed the Divine revelation at Mount
Sinai and wandered in that desert for 40 years before finally arriving at the
borders of the land of Israel. But the Torah wishes to emphasize that every
step in that long journey was meaningful and taught us lessons of faith and
hope and charted a course for us as to how the Jewish national entity was to be
created and strengthened.
For that to happen, we have to be able to
recall our errors and mishaps so that we somehow learn not to repeat them. We
also have to remember our great moments of glory and of accomplishment so that
these may be preserved in our memory and repeated throughout the existence of
our national life. Past events, no matter how seemingly minor they may appear
to be at the moment, are the stuff of nation building and accomplishment. That
is why all the facets of memory are so much a part of Jewish life and
observance.
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Berel Wein
The Next Giant Step
These are the
journeys of the Children of Israel who left the land of Egypt in their
legions, under the charge of Moshe and Aaron. (Bamidbar 33:1)
These are the journeys: Why were these journeys recorded? -To
inform us of the kindliness of the Omnipresent… – Rashi
They journeyed from
the mountains of Abarim and camped in the plains of Moab by the Jordan at
Jericho. (Bamidbar 33:48)
Forty-two journeys are
spelled out -starting from the Exodus from Egypt until the final encampment in
the plains of Moab looking into the “Promised Land.” This long list, the
winding review, Rashi tells us is in order to inform us of the kindliness of
HASHEM. If the Torah is investing so much “ink” it must give us pause to think,
how weighty and truly beneficial this exercise is.
At the time of the
exodus the verse tells us, “So G-d led the people around [by] way of the desert
[to] the Red Sea, and the children of Israel were armed when they went
up out of Egypt. (Shemos 13:18) The word for “armed” – “chamushim” is an
unusual term. There is a hint here! Rashi explains that according to the most
modest estimate, “chamushim” mean one fifth- 1/5.
Only one fifth of the Jewish People merited the leaving Egypt
while 4/5th died secretly in the 9th plague, the plague of darkness. This is
shocking news. The celebrated exodus was actually accompanied by a most
catastrophic loss.
The Jewish Nation
consisted of 600,000 adults-males between the age of 20 and 60 as recorded
explicitly in the Torah. Counting females, people above 60, and below 20 years,
we can guestimate that perhaps there were 3 million people who actually left
Egypt.
If that’s so, then 12
million perished and were disappeared during the plague of darkness. What a
heartrending misfortune numerically and individually! To have travelled so far
in an exile only to be eliminated in the final moments before the redemption
reeks of human tragedy.
Now, even after all
that, here comes the tough news. Rabbi Aigdor Miller ztl. said that not only at
that time but in every generation, 80% are lost to the particular “plague of
darkness” of that generation. That is really scary. I appreciate that
statistics don’t proscribe behavior in advance but only describe behavior ex
post facto. Even still, this is a frightening historical trend. How do we make
sure that we and our children are not a statistic, going by default, the way of
the 80%?
It dawned on me this
year at the Pesach Seder an insight about this chilling information. I had to
share it then and now. This awareness may just be the beginning of the cure we
seek. I came to realize that we are the 20% of the 20% of the survivors of the
survivors, surviving selection after brutal selection for 3700 years. It is worthwhile
meditating deeply on and sincerely about the price tag of the seat we occupy.
This is not a guilt
trip! It’s a reality check. We are on “the one yard line” of history after
having endured so long and hard a fight to get here. That path to here is paved
with supreme idealism, rivers of blood, and yes, Heavenly help. To walk off the
field at this point because someone in the stands winked in our general
direction is a failure in understanding the value of our current position.
No different than the
Children of Israel poised to enter the “Promised Land” after a circuitous
journey in the desert, we at the edge of a bitter exile, desperately need to
review how we got here to take the next giant step.
Golden Opportunities
Parshas
Devarim
In this week’s Torah
portion of Devarim, Moshe begins the book of Deuteronomy with a detailed
recounting of the nation’s long and painful journey through the wilderness.
Rather than spell out all the unflattering incidents where the Jewish people
stumbled spiritually, Moshe refers to names of places in which these episodes
transpired.
He delivers his message
in veiled but pointed language. As an example, when referring to the incident
of the aigel, the golden calf, Moshe omits the official location, calling the
place of sin, ‘Vedi Zahav,’ the “place of excess gold.”
Instead of issuing a
stern rebuke to the Jewish people for abandoning the Torah they had just been
given and dancing around the golden calf, Moshe seems almost to be offering an
alibi for their shameful behavior. He mentions the excessive gold with which
they were laden as if to imply that they erred only by dedicating their
newfound wealth to idolatry.
That prompts another
question: why then Moshe change his tune and use harsher language when it came
to actually detailing the sin of the golden calf later in the Torah?
The commentaries
explain that Moshe’s veiled reprimand about “the place of excessive gold” was
probably the sharpest rebuke of all. They note that when G-d showed Moshe the
first Jewish currency, the shekel, it was enveloped in fire. That symbolized
that just as fire is marked by dual properties in the sense that it can destroy
but also provides warmth and nurture-so too, money can be potently dangerous or
immensely beneficial.
Moshe was alluding to
this challenging dualism in his reference to “Vedi Zahav”-the place of
excessive gold,” reminding the people of how they had been ensnared.
As we prepare for
Tisha B’Av, it is worthwhile for us to reflect on the role money and
materialism play in our life. After all, on Tisha B’Av we express our yearning
for a messianic era, a time of spiritual bliss and delight when swords will be
crushed into plowshares and the lion will walk docilely next to the lamb.
It all sounds very
picturesque and idyllic but I’m not ready just yet to give up my brand new Bose
speaker system or my luxury car. How will Moshiach affect my desire to live the
American dream and how will he affect my retirement portfolio?
All of these
questions and similar ones naturally lurk in our subconscious mind. Although we
give voice to our yearning for the geulah, how much do we really need it and
how much are we really prepared for it?
Preparing for
Moshiach’s times requires us to be ready to divest from many of our
materialistic attachments and transition into a different modus operandi, in
which money and materialism is not the central focus of our life. It is fine to
have another home at the beach or a comfortable car and financial security. But
all of these things should be secondary to our primary goal to be bonded as one
with Hashem and secure in our relationship with him.
The concept is well
illustrated in the following story.
A computer scientist
received an important assignment in a top-secret government project and was
urgently called out to Dayton, Ohio to join an elite team of engineers that
were being hastily assembled to initiate the projects development. Arriving in
the airport with his suitcases Sunday morning, he was dismayed to hear that his
luggage would not be allowed on board the plane. He complained bitterly to the
supervisor, to no avail. She showed him the plane sitting on the tarmac. It was
a little twin propeller turbo jet that could only hold twelve people. She told
him apologetically that only his hand luggage and a suit bag would be allowed
on the plane.
Since the mission was
so critically important, he left the luggage to the porter and boarded the
plane, readying himself to launch the new project at 8:00 the next morning.
Right behind him came
another fellow who was part of the same team, a brilliant programmer who
happened to be massively built, weighing over 500 pounds. The supervisor
soberly told him that she could not accommodate him on the flight. “But I have
my ticket!” he protested. “If I need two seats I’ll be happy to pay.” He
slapped his Amex platinum card on the counter but the supervisor wouldn’t
budge. She took him to the window and showed him the little plane. “Look,” she
said, “the door is only 24 inches wide; you just don’t fit on board. I’m
sorry.”
If material possessions
define our identity, and we are laden with “vedi zahav,” excess gold that
becomes our primary objective in life, it is truly difficult to transition into
a spiritual world. But if we regard our possessions as mere baggage that can be
left behind, then we can easily free ourselves from attachments that tie us
down to a physical existence and enjoy the spiritual bliss that awaits us in
the Messianic era.
Text Copyright
© 2012 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.
Rabbi Reich is on the
faculty of the Ohr Somayach Tanenbaum Education
Center.
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