Chaos in
the Desert
Parshas Bamidbar
Posted on June 5, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Naftali
Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner
It must have been chaos in
the desert, a city planner’s nightmare, before the encampment of the Jewish
people was reorganized in the second year after the Exodus from Egypt. The new
plans called for the encampment to follow a rigidly defined grid. The people
were to be divided into four groups of three tribes and placed to the north,
south, east and west of the central hub in which the Mishkan stood.
Each tribe was assigned its precise place in the scheme of things, with its own
flag and tribal emblem.
Why did G-d put off the
organization of the encampment until the end of the second year of the Jewish
people’s sojourn in the desert? Why did He allow chaotic conditions to prevail
for so long?
The commentators explain
that it would not have been wise to create a formal pattern of encampment
during the first year. At that time, the Jewish people were still in an early
formative stage. Although they were all descended from Abraham, Isaac and
Jacob, although they had all shared the common woes of bondage in Egypt, the
idea of a Jewish nationhood based on the Torah and the covenant with G-d was
still very new.
Each tribe had its own
outlook and personality, which gave it a singular perspective on Torah and
Jewish issues. Had the tribes been assigned to different sections of the
encampment, there would have been a high likelihood that their ideological
differences would lead to factionalism and dissension. At the same time,
ideological differences among the tribes could also be a potential source of
great national strength. The various perspectives could engender lively
exchanges and debates. So how could the ideological differences be used to
create a strong intellectual, emotional and spiritual vitality without leading
to factionalism?
G-d’s solution was to
allow the tribes to live together in one huge, chaotic melting pot for a full
year. During this time, they would merge together into one nation indivisibly
united around the core of the holy Torah. They would bond not only as a large
clan but also as partners in the divine covenant.
But this condition could
only be allowed to continue for a limited time. Otherwise, the tribes would
truly melt together into some kind of a composite that lacked the focused
strengths and virtues of each individual tribe. Therefore, G-d instructed the
tribes to separate into a structured encampment in the second year, after the Mishkan had been built. The tribes would thus
retain their individual character and still remain bonded to the rest of the
Jewish people by their common connection to the divine Abode in their midst.
A man enlisted in the army and
was assigned to an army base, where he made a number of new friends. After a
few months of intense training, he was transferred to another base where he was
given artillery training. One of his new friends was assigned to infantry
training, while another was sent to communications school.
“What is going on here?”
the young soldier complained to his sergeant. “If we are to be separated, why
were we thrown together in the first place? Why didn’t they send him straight
to communications school and where we fit? They knew his aptitude when he
enlisted, didn’t they?”
“They certainly did,” said
the sergeant. “Tell me, if you are called on to support the infantry in battle
with artillery fire, will you rush to do it?”
“Of course. That is my
job.”
“But will it help at all
if you know that your friend is in the infantry?”
“I suppose it would.”
“There you go,” said the
sergeant. “Starting with all the men together leads to greater sense of
commitment.”
In our own lives, we also
live in small, separated units. We are divided from each other by our
interests, our professions, our family backgrounds, our neighborhoods. But we
must recognize that there is more that binds us than divides us. We are
brothers and sisters whose ancestors stood together at Mount Sinai and heard
the voice of G-d. We shared the memories, both glorious and painful, of
thousands of years of history. Regardless of our differences, we are one
people.
Text Copyright © 2010 by
Rabbi Naftali Reich and Torah.org.
Rabbi Reich is on the
faculty of the
Ohr Somayach Tanenbaum Education Center.
Parshas Bamidbar
Posted on June 5, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Yochanan
Zweig | Series: Rabbi
Zweig on the Parsha| Level: Intermediate Beginner
“…and they established their
genealogy according to their families, according to their fathers’ household…”
(1:18)
Rashi teaches that prior to the census which is recorded
in this week’s parsha, each Jew was required to produce a Sefer Yuchsin, a book of his lineage or
pedigree.[1] The Midrash adds that producing this Sefer Yuchsin was also required as a
prerequisite to receiving the Torah.[2]
The Midrash notes
that since the nations of the world were not able to produce a book of their
lineage for they could not identify who their parents were, they were not
worthy of receiving the Torah.[3] Why is receiving the Torah dependent upon
having a book of lineage? The aforementioned Midrash appears
to contradict another Midrash which states that
the nations of the world rejected the Torah based upon the precepts that it
contains.[4] How does their rejection of the Torah coalesce with the fact that
they did not have a book of lineage?
A person who is the first
in his family to receive a college education will be elated when he is accepted
to a community college. However, a person who descends from a family that
boasts ten generations of Harvard graduates will be completely devastated if
the only college willing to accept him is a community college. Surpassing the
expectations which have been defined by one’s social upbringing is what gives a
person a sense of accomplishment. If a person is unable to identify his
parents, this indicates that they were people who did not take responsibility
for themselves. Conversely, if a person is able to identify his lineage, we
conclude that he stems from individuals who took responsibility for themselves
and had honorable standards.
The set of seven Noachide
laws is a system which requires mankind to elevate themselves from the animal
kingdom by taking responsibility and setting moral standards. For the nations
of the world, the very act of taking responsibility for themselves is, in itself,
an elevating sense of accomplishment. Their forefathers took no responsibility
for themselves, thus behaving like animals. Therefore, the nations of the
world need only to behave in a responsible manner to feel accomplished.
However, fulfilling the requirement of behaving responsibly is not considered
an accomplishment for Hashem’s chosen nation. They are expected to behave
differently than animals, to act responsibly, for their forefathers have set a
standard which makes anything less unacceptable. What is considered an
accomplishment for the nation chosen by Hashem is to
be holy, elevated, and worthy of Hashem’s presence. Only a nation that knows
its lineage and therefore has a preexisting sense of responsibility can be
expected to be holy. The nations of the world rejected the additional
requirement of being holy, for they found their fulfillment in behaving as
responsible human beings.
2.Yalkut Shimoni #684
That
Golden Peace Treaty
Parshas Bamidbar
Posted on May 18, 2018 (5778) By Rabbi Label Lam
| Series: Dvar
Torah| Level: Beginner
That Golden Peace Treaty
Rabbi Elazar said: All
agree with regard to Atzeret-Shavuot, that we
require that it be also “for you,” meaning that it is a Mitzvah to
eat, drink, and rejoice on that day. What is the reason? (Pesachim 68B)
On the Holidays, how is
our time to be spent? There is a dispute! One opinion says that it is to be
entirely spiritually or entirely material (eating and rejoicing) but not both.
The other side says that the day is meant to be divided. When it comes to
Shevuos everyone agrees that it should be divided between devotion to HASHEM and eating and rejoicing? Why is the
holiday of Shevuos different?
To answer a question
“why”, we need to see a thing in context. One of the most amazing things about
being a human is that we are comprised of two completely different, disparate
elements- whose needs seem almost irreconcilable. The SOUL and the BODY-are an
“odd couple” indeed.
While the BODY, like a
horse, wishes to run on its horizontal plain in search of food and phillies,
the SOUL, like a rider, is much more interested in climbing vertically in
pursuit of truth and philosophy. How do we deal with this built in human
dilemma? Whose needs dominate over the other’s needs? There are four classic
approaches.
1-What we’ll call the far
eastern way is an ideal that the soulful portion dominates the physical body.
The successful practitioner finds him-self atop a mountain-aloof. His physical
needs have been thoroughly quieted. He feels almost no pain. He can sleep on a
bed of nails and fast. He is divorced from his body. Having trained himself to
not to hear the whimpers of his own physical being or the temporal world around
him, he meditates in that state and transcends the mundane.
2-The second we can refer
to as the far western approach. Here the immediate needs of the body drown out
the voice of the soul until it is a frail and thin voice, an afterthought
called conscience. With plenty of continued practice that voice can be almost
entirely annihilated.
It is recorded how the
Nazis were sick to their stomachs the first time they carried out the brutal
murder of Jews but after a while they could go home and eat dinner as if
nothing had happened. The callous that develops with deeds that violate the
sensibilities of the human soul grows thicker and darker with each repeated
action. Eventually the body is divorced from its soul- Kores- cut off.
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