The
Wilderness Within
Parshas Bamidbar
Posted on June 6, 2019 (5779) By Rabbi Naftali
Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner
Was it an
accident of geography that a barren wilderness lay between Egypt and the
Promised Land? Was it an accident of geography that the Torah was given to the
Jewish people on a rocky mountain in a parched and desolate land? Would history
have taken a different course had they encountered wooded mountains and verdant
pastures when they emerged from bondage in Egypt?
This week’s Torah reading seems to indicate that there is a
significant connection. The commentators observe that the reading begins with
the words “And Hashem spoke to Moses in the Sinai wilderness.” Why was it
necessary for the Torah to tell us the obvious, that the Torah was transmitted
in the wilderness? These words, explain the commentators, contain a powerful
implied message. In order for a person to make himself a receptacle for the
Torah, he must first render himself a wilderness. In other words, he must
distance himself from the concerns and pressures of society and live a more
insular life.
What exactly does this mean? Are we meant to seek the wisdom of
Torah in pristine corner of the world, far from the sounds and smells of
civilization? Can’t the Torah be discovered in the synagogues and study halls
of great urban centers where millions of Jewish people live? Of course it can. The
Torah is identifying the mental rather than the geographic locales in which
Torah can be found.
The Hebrew word for wilderness, midbar, reveals a certain
ambivalence. On the one hand, it refers to a remote and isolated place. At the
same time, however, it is closely related to the word medaber, one who speaks
or communicates, which is quite the opposite of isolation.
A person who learns Torah has to function on two levels. He must
focus on becoming a medaber, a person who interacts with others and communicates
to them the values and ideals of the eternal Torah. But first he must fortify
himself and become a midbar, a person insulated against the wicked influences
and peer pressures of society, a person who stands on his principles and
refuses to compromise in order to curry favor with others.
The Torah does not seek to make people into hermits and monastics.
Rather, the paradigm of a true Torah Jew is one who brings the light of Torah
to society with a sincere smile on his face and tempered steel in his heart, a
gregarious recluse.
An
idealistic young man came to seek the advice of a great sage. “I want to change
the world,” he said. “I want to make it a better place. Where exactly should I
concentrate my efforts?”
The sage smiled. “You remind me a little of myself when I was
young,” he said. “At first, I wanted to change the world, but I discovered that
I could not. Then I decided I would at least change my community, but I
discovered that I could not. Then I decided that perhaps I could at least
change my family, but that too was beyond my ability. Finally, I realized I
should at least try to change myself, and that has been a lifetime struggle.
But I believe that if I had started with changing myself, I might have been
able to do something for the world as well.”
In our own lives, there is practically no spot in the developed
world where we are not blanketed by an aura of decadence and corruption that
seeks to penetrate our very souls. So what are we to do? Are we to abandon our
homes and careers and go off to a desert island? Not at all. But we must always
be acutely aware of the spiritual dangers that lurk everywhere we turn. We must
imbue ourselves with the spirit of Torah until it become like an impenetrable
suit of armor. Only when we are thus fortified can we venture forth to bring
the message of the Torah to society at large.
Text
Copyright © 2009 by Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.
Rabbi Reich is on the faculty of the Ohr Somayach
Tanenbaum Education Center.
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