BS”D

PARSHAT BEHA’ALOTCHA

Shira Smiles shiur 2016/5776

Summary by Channie Koplowitz Stein

            After Bnei Yisroel received the Torah, they journeyed from Har Sinai for three days. Their entry into Eretz Yisroel appears imminent. But here the Torah interrupts the journey with a short passage bracketed by two inverted letter “nun”s. The inserted passage refers to the Holy Ark traveling and rising to destroy the enemies of Hashem, and then returning to rest among the myriads of Bnei Yisroel. Our sages ask why the Torah interrupts the narrative with these verses? What can we read between the lines and between the inverted “nun”s?

            Rashi explains that leaving Har Hashem, God’s Mountain, Sinai, was the first of three sins listed here, and in order not to create an almost unbreakable threefold bond, the Torah here separates the first of the sins from the following two of complaining and of the rabble demanding meat. In fact, Ramban cites the Gemarrah as listing this as the first of three calamities. How was traveling away from Sinai a sin when Bnei Yisroel traveled only when the cloud around them lifted and prompted them to leave? The Medrash explains that it was not leaving that was sinful,, but rather that Bnei Yisroel left the Mountain of God with joy, as a baby who runs away from school, afraid more lessons will be forced upon him if he tarries.

            But what indication is there to presume that Bnei Yisroel left joyously, asks Rabbi Rivlin. Perhaps the rush to leave was not so much a desire to leave this place as an excited anticipation of their entry into Eretz Yisroel? Why was this a calamity? What punishment was incurred? Rabbi Munk here notes that the name of the mountain used here is very revealing. The mountain is usually referred to as Sinai or as Horeb. Only here is it the Mountain of Hashem, implying that Bnei Yisroel sought to distance themselves from Hashem and from any further mitzvoth He would command.

            There was no outward display of joy at leaving Har Hashem. But Hashem sees deep into the heart of every human being, Hashem recognized the imperceptibly quickened pace that no human would discern. For this generation for whom the presence of God was revealed face to face, that tiny moment of flight was a grievous sin. Yes, Hashem prompted them to move, but they should have felt a moment of regret, a desire to take the experience of the Mountain with them. There was no pain at leaving this holy place, as Yaakov felt when he lifted his feet to continue his journey after his dream at Beit El. Rather, Rav Zaidel Epstein contrasts The language of this departure with the language of the departure after the splitting of the Sea. There, after recovering the gold and silver spoils left by the Egyptians on the shore, the verb is causative, Moshe had to urge the people to travel. Here, Bnei Yisroel traveled immediately on their own. Bnei Yisroel were reluctant to leave the physical treasures, but had no compunctions about leaving the place of their spiritual revival. That quick leaving without a murmur of regret, without a lingering goodbye or backward glance speaks volumes of the lack of an emotional connection Bnei Yisroel had to what they had just experienced, writes the Ohr Doniel, among others.

            Rabbi asbeh in Vayomer Yehudah offers further proof that Bnei Yisroel’s alacrity in traveling was motivated by a desire to leave Hashem’s mountain rather than by excitement to enter Eretz Yisroel.    Hashem offers us a choice. If we desire to do His bidding, He helps us, offering an “elevator” to reach greater spiritual heights. We have the space of 50 spiritual pathways, the numerical equivalent of “nun”. If we choose to descend spiritually, we have that choice, but we are not helped on our way. Hashem took us on a three day journey as we left Mount Sinai. Instead of brushing off inconveniences to complete the journey, Bnei Yisroel complained all along the way.

            This test revealed the motivation of Bnei Yisroel. As Rabbi Dovid Hofstedter writes, one’s goal determines one’s reaction to difficulty. If one is motivated by love of Hashem and a desire to do His mitzvoth, challenges become mere inconveniences, while if one is motivated by physical pleasure and   the nations of the world when they expressed desire to have received the Torah was so telling, notes Rabbi Hofstedter. Hashem provided the nations with one mitzvah as a test, the mitzvah of succah. When it got too hot, the nations left the succah, kicking it on their way out. While leaving the succah in itself was not proof of their unworthiness for the Torah, the disdainful act of the kick proved that their desire for the Torah was simply a desire for the reward of mitzvoth and not a desire to create a relationship with Hashem. There was no regret at the inability to perform the mitzvah. This was the attitude of the complainers who felt no regret at leaving the Mountain of God, the place of such spiritual connection. They felt no love for the Torah, concludes Rav Dunner in Mikdash Halevi.

            As we move away from Shavuoth, the holiday that represents this spiritual connection, do we view the mitzvoth Hashem commanded us in His Torah as a burden or as a means of drawing closer to Him?  

            Hashem implanted in every human being insatiable desire, notes Rabbi Yaakov Meir Sonnenfeld. This is usually manifested as a desire for material wealth. However, notes Rabbi Sonnenfeld, this desire should serve as a model for the love of Torah, and of connection to Hakodosh Boruch Hu, of never having enough Torah. In this context, Eretz Yisroel is the land wherein one most closely feels the connection to Hakodosh Boruch Hu. During the entire two years that Bnei Yisroel were camped at the foot of Mount Sinai they never developed that strong emotional connection to Hashem, and the mitzvoth seemed a burden to them, notes Rabbi Wachtfogel of the Lakewood Yeshivah. How then would Eretz Yisroel serve to motivate them to serve Hashem more fully? It is this reasoning that prompts Ramban to explain the “calamity” of this first sin as the decree not to enter Eretz Yisroel immediately as they were originally destined to, but to remain in the desert for forty years, irrespective of the sin of the spies.  It was during this time, they were to be immersed in a spiritual cacoon, that would enable them to develop this emotional spiritual connection, enabling them to than enter the land. And what is our attitude toward the mitzvoth, asks the Ohr Doniel. Do we regret the missed opportunity when we see a tzedakah collector leaving our doorway as we are approaching and try to catch him, or are we grateful that we arrived that moment too late?

            The Medrash states that Bnei Yisroel left Har Hashem quickly, as babies running away after school On this Rabbi Schwab comments that Bnei Yisroel wanted to escape Hashem, to keep Him on the mountain and away from following them.. Rabbi Roth asks us how we have left today’s symbolic stance at Sinai, the holiday of Shavuoth. What spiritual strengths have we kept with us at the close of the holiday? The calamity, the punishment, then as now, is the absence of the feeling of connection to Hakodosh Boruch Hu, the absence of a necessity to hold on to the feeling of the warmth of being in Hashem’s presence.

            At Sinai, we “saw” Hashem with two types of vision. The heavens opened and we physically saw His presence. Alongside that vision, our inner, spiritual eye also “saw” God and understood that ein od milvadO, nothing exists outside of or beside Him. The two visions were joined as Hashem showed us this divine truth. But seeing and knowing are inadequate if we do not put this knowledge into practice, if we do not perform our service and mitzvoth with a sense of awe.

            Just as Bnei Yisroel should have taken the Sinai experience with them as they journeyed on, so are we too to take the Shavuoth experience and weave it into the fabric of our lives, writes Rav Mordechai Ezrachi in Birkat Mordechai. If we focus on one mitzvah or take on one stringency, we can incorporate our spiritual eye into our physical eye and tie a knot so that the spiritual experience will not     slip away.

            Herein lies the greatest calamity and the greatest punishment. What greater loss is there, writes Rabbi Schwab, than to feel empty, devoid of the joy in mitzvah performance, empty of the uplifted Shabbat soul in spite of mouthing the words greeting the Shabbat Queen. This emptiness is a greater punishment than the punishment of the fire that consumed the complainers. To differentiate between these two categories of punishment, the Torah separates them with the insertion of a short passage.

            Why is this passage sectioned off with the two inverted “nun”s, asks Rabbi Frand? The nun represents ne’emanut, consistency. Do we make excuses for our lack of mitzvah performance while those very same conditions do not deter us from physical pursuits? If we use the cold as an excuse not to walk to shul on Shabbos, how can we then go outside to build a snowman with our children? Our behavior must be consistent.

            As a final thought, Rav Uri Weissblum notes that the Medrash speaks of a very young child, a baby running from school. A tinok is too young and too small to run, let alone go to school. In a beautiful insight, Rav Weissblum notes that when you run away from Hashem you are really small. We are urged to realize our greatness, for if we see ourselves as small, everything becomes a burden. If we recognize our greatness, everything can be overcome and can be used to bring us closer to Hashem.

            [How beautiful it is to embrace the Torah, to commission the writing of an entire Torah, not just a letter, and dedicate it to one’s children in the fervent hope and prayer that they too will embrace the Torah, hold it close, live their lives by its precepts, and never run from its lessons. C.K.S.]