Bamidbar 2012

Shavuot is a holiday that focuses on the most seminal moment in Jewish history—perhaps in the entirety of world history. The significance and importance of the moment can lead us, the ancestors of those who received the Torah, to a state of pride. After all, we should be proud of the fact that our Nation was chosen to accept this most amazing gift, the gift of the Torah. In a moment, the lives of the Jewish people for all generations to follow was transformed to a life with deep and defining spiritual and Godly purpose. With this understanding, one can certainly understand the pride that was to accompany this realization. Yet, one passage in the Gemara can undo it all.

The Gemara in Shabbat 88a states that Hashem held Mount Sinai over the Jewish people and stated, “It is wonderful if you accept the Torah; and if not, there will be your graves.” As we read this statement, the pride of associating ourselves with the generation that received the Torah is drastically reduced. After all, where was the choice? Their decision was coerced by the threat of death! Certainly they would choose to accept the Torah! This question has been discussed by many commentators throughout the ages, but few of the answers to this question are as pertinent to us in this day and age than the answer of the Sfas Emes.

The Sfas Emes explains that upon closer inspection, one notices a problem. According to the Gemara, Hashem said “there,” not “here,” will be your graves. The statement implies that the death will happen elsewhere. The Sfas Emes explains that Hashem instilled a fear in the hearts of the Jewish people at this moment that was very palpable, yet the plan was never to destroy the nation at this moment. Hashem was sending a message to the Jewish people with a crystal-clear visual aid that the death that would occur later would be very real, just as the fear at the moment was very real. Yet it would be a death that would be slow and almost indiscernible. The lack of spirituality that would be the result for the nation in the event of denial of the Torah would lead to a spiritual demise through assimilation that would rob the people of the benefits offered at the moment. We would be burying ourselves in the future and not even recognize when everything went wrong.

There are times in our lives that we pass up opportunities, and it pains those who care deeply about us. They try to convince us, using  very harsh tones and graphic presentations, that our future will be much brighter if we make the right decisions. Even if they are correct, the pain of the incorrect decision will not hurt at the moment. Yet as we live our lives with the knowledge of our incorrect decision, the pain of the wrong turn can burn a deep hole in our subconscious. On Shavuot, we celebrate the decision that was made long ago and thank Hashem for the added dimension of spirituality in our lives.

In this week’s Parsha, we are introduced to the Mit’onenim, the description that is given to the Jewish people when they were complaining. The Jewish people had left Egypt and were experiencing freedom for the first time in generations. Yet, they began to complain that the conditions in Egypt were such that they actually preferred the slavery because, they claimed, the menu was better in Egypt.

Rabbi Yissachar Dov of Ropshitz asks the simple question that should be asked by anyone who reads this story in the Torah. He asks, how is it possible that they experienced so much good from the hands of Hashem, yet were able to ignore it all and instead focus on the negative? He answers with the following story:

There was once a man who was in Shul on Yom Kippur, and he looked around and noticed that so many people were crying heartfelt prayers. He recognized that each of them had their own Tzaros (troubles) that were helping bring meaning to their prayers. He saw a friend who was dealing with health issues, another  who was struggling financially, and a third whose marriage was crumbling. In his mind, they all had good reason to pray with such devotion; but without a good reason to pray, he could not reach their levels of concentration and desperation. Finally, it dawned on him that there was a package of meat that he had left outside his home, exposed to the elements. When he returned from Shul, it would certainly have rotted in the heat of the sun or had been consumed by an animal or rodent. He started to cry for the wasted meat, and his prayers carried more meaning. However, it suddenly dawned on him that the only reason that he was crying was because of a package of meat. This reality continued on page 3 was even more hurtful and saddening to him, as he realized how low he had become.

Similarly, the Jewish people were not complaining because of the validity of their claims, but rather because their character was in need of refinement. They could not connect to Hashem through all the good that He had done for them. They turned to focusing on whatever negative situation that could grab on to, and they let it affect their perception of the entire experience. The Jewish people in the desert teach us a valuable and timeless lesson: taking stock and appreciating all that we have is often the greatest answer to feelings of anger, jealousy, and despair.

“How dare this happen…don’t they know who I am?!” These words basically sum up the story of this week’s Parsha. Korach produces a rebellion that is based on his dissatisfaction with the current leadership and policies of the fledgling Jewish nation. He feels that Moshe and Aharon have appointed themselves and charged themselves with responsibilities that others deserved. In fact, he convinces many members of the tribe of Reuven, as well as some firstborns, to join his plight. He appeals to their sense of disillusionment and rejection in being part of a class of people that at one time laid claim to the Priesthood and service in the Mishkan, but which had lost this privilege due to unfortunate events. Ironically, the only reason that Korach felt as though he too was shortchanged was because he was from the tribe of Levi, and his standing in the tribe entitled him to greater responsibility. This responsibility would never have been considered if the firstborns or the tribe of Reuven had not lost the birthright to Yosef and Levi. Yet, the firstborns, Reuvenites, and Korach were able to look past their irreconcilable differences that would have otherwise prevented them from all simultaneously reaching their goals, and instead stand up against the Establishment. The end goal was not to reclaim what was lost, but to stand up against an “unjustly appointed” leadership, and to show them very clearly that the respect that they deserve should be taken very seriously.

The Torah describes in great detail the lineage of Korach, Datan, Aviram, and Ohn Ben Pelet. The Chozeh of Lublin explains that the attention attributed to their backgrounds tells the entire story. They were people that were more focused on where they came from than where they were going. They were more concerned that they be respected for the past— their lineage—and not strive to develop in their own lives a respectful future. The Evil Inclination had gotten the best of them, by convincing them to rest on the accomplishments of others rather than build their own legacy. Sadly, their great desire to achieve respect and glory had clouded their judgments and led to their ultimate demise.

Rashi explains that Yaakov’s name is glaringly missing from their lists of lineage. This was because Yaakov saw through the Heavenly Spirit what Korach would attempt to accomplish, and he begged that his name not be connected to Korach’s rationalizations. Yaakov understood the value of raising children that may be at risk due to feelings of entitlement, and he made sure to avoid these feelings through education and prayer. “How dare this happen,” and “Don’t they know who I am,” are certainly words that would never have been uttered by Yaakov. May we merit to carefully choose our words and to avoid the bitter trappings that engulfed Korach and his cohorts.

There is a curious omission in the prayers of Tisha B’Av that can be easily overlooked but carries a significant and noteworthy lesson. The prayer of ובא לציון  (Uva L’tzion) begins with the following verses from Isaiah 59:

כ וּבָא לְצִיּוֹן גּוֹאֵל, וּלְשָׁבֵי פֶשַׁע בְּיַעֲקֹב נְאֻם ה'. כא וַאֲנִי, זֹאת בְּרִיתִי אוֹתָם אָמַר ה', רוּחִי אֲשֶׁר עָלֶיךָ, וּדְבָרַי אֲשֶׁר שַׂמְתִּי בְּפִיךָ: לֹא יָמוּשׁוּ מִפִּיךָ וּמִפִּי זַרְעֲךָ וּמִפִּי זֶרַע זַרְעֲךָ, אָמַר ה', מֵעַתָּה, וְעַד-עוֹלָם.

20 And a Redeemer will come to Zion, and unto them that turn from transgression in Jacob, says Hashem. 21 And as for Me, this is My covenant with them, says Hashem; My spirit that is upon you, and My words which I have put in your mouth, shall not depart from your mouth, nor out of the mouth of your seed, nor out of the mouth of your seed's seed, says the Lord, from now and forever.

While the first verse is recited as normal on Tisha B’Av, the second verse is omitted. Many explain that the reason as because the second verse is a reference to Torah learning, and one is not allowed to learn Torah on Tisha B’Av. Yet, this explanation can be easily refuted, as we do begin the morning prayers with the blessings on the Torah, and we recite Ahava Rabba before Shema which also can serve as “Birchas HaTorah,” the blessings that precede Torah learning. If in fact the second verse was omitted for this reason, the aforementioned prayers would be omitted as well.

Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik offered a beautiful answer that helps us shine light on the essence of the day and the power of Torah study. He explained that the verse describes the promise of Hashem Jewish people that the Torah will never leave our midst. In fact, we are ensured that the Torah will flourish in the times of our children and our children’s children. At the lowest point in the Jewish calendar, this verse can serve as tremendous inspiration. It can uplift us and bring us immense joy. For precisely this reason, it is inappropriate to have this verse as a part of the liturgy on a day in which we are supposed to be focused on mourning and sadness.

As I came across this point, it reminded me of a Chassidic idea related to the statement of Chazal that states that when the month of Av enters, the level of happiness is diminished. Although this statement stresses that the level is diminished, that level is nevertheless far from extinguished. A Jew is always supposed to have happiness in his life. This happiness stems from the fact that we are assured that everything happens for a reason and that Hashem is guiding the world in the direction that is ultimately for the best. We can be assured that there is hope, even in our darkest times, that we will persevere through the challenges that are presented in our path, and that we will merit to see the words of Isaiah fulfilled in our days.