The WebYeshiva Blog

Seeing the Value in Tzelafchad’s Daughters and Ourselves

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin The daughters of Tzelafchad showed their great love and yearning for the Land of Israel by requesting an inheritance for their family of only daughters with no male heirs. After Moshe brought their petition to God, Hashem instructed him that for all time, whenever a man dies with only daughters, his daughters inherit his estate. So, too, the daughters of Tzelafchad were entitled to inherit their father’s portion in the Land. Immediately after this narrative, the Torah jumps to a dialogue between Hashem and Moshe (27:12): “עֲלֵה אֶל־הַר הָעֲבָרִים הַזֶּה” – “Ascend this mountain of the ‘Avarim (lit., the two sides).” You will be able to see the Land, but instead of entering the Land, you will die atop the mountain, because of your sin with the water at Mei Merivah (from Parshat Chukat). Certainly, God is not cruel. Why, after instructing Moshe to bring the good tidings to Tzelafchad’s daughters about their award of a portion in the Land, did Hashem remind Moshe that he would NOT enter the Land because of his sin? Isn’t that just rubbing salt in the wound? Rashi is sensitive to this question, and explains that because Hashem had just instructed Moshe to award Tzelafchad’s daughters a portion in Eretz Israel, Moshe made an assumption: since he had been the messenger to award them land, perhaps he’d be able to enter the Land in order to personally fulfill this charge. Hashem had to disabuse Moshe of any false impression, and therefore reminded him that he would, in fact, not be able to enter the Land. Rashi’s explanation is fine, although some commentaries question why Moshe jumped to the assumption that just because he was delivering good news to the daughters, this signaled that he, too, might gain entry into the Land. Let us look a bit deeper and note something curious about the Torah’s text in the Tzelafchad’s daughters narrative.

The Letter "nun" - The Loneliest Number

After Tzelafchad’s daughters made their request, the Torah states (27:5): “וַיַּקְרֵב מֹשֶׁה אֶת־מִשְׁפָּטָן לִפְנֵי יְקֹוָק” – “Moshe brought their judgment before God.” In the Torah scroll, the letter “ן” is written larger than all the other letters. The commentaries try to understand the reason for this. What else do we know about the letter “nun”? We say the Ashrei prayer daily, which is written as an acrostic, starting with a line that begins with “aleph,” and ending with a line that begins with “tav.” The Talmud (TB Berachos 4b) notes that only one letter is not represented in this acrostic psalm, the letter “nun.” Why is the “nun” excluded? The Maharal explains that the letter is unique in that when you line up all the Hebrew letters, including the “מנצפך” double letters, you end up with 27 letters of the aleph-bet. The 14th letter, the one letter in the very center, is the letter “nun,” making it the “odd man out,” so to speak. Furthermore, “nun” is 50 in gematria (numerology), which, when dealing with a decimal numerical system, can only be added to itself to arrive at the completion of the series, 100. That is, the letter “nun” represents a solitary, lonely letter, that doesn’t have any companions other than itself (If, as the old song goes, “One is the loneliest number,” then “nun” is the loneliest letter). Ashrei is a prayer of Divine support and strength, and accordingly the letter “nun” which represents being alone without any support is the opposite of what Ashrei is meant to convey. This prayer instead affirms that we are always together with Hashem, and as a result we’ll always be provided for and protected. Perhaps the daughters of Tzelafchad were trying to communicate that they knew that they were “loners.” They had no husbands and no children, and from a societal perspective, some might view them as having little independent worth. No one was supporting them or strengthening them; why should they receive a portion in the Land if they wouldn’t have the power or communal clout to properly build and cultivate their portion of land?

Out With the Old, In With the New

When they made their petition, Moshe pondered the situation, not knowing how to respond. On the one hand, it would be tragic for an entire family to be denied a portion of the Land. On the other hand, these women lacked the resources to properly maintain and develop their property on their own. As single women, how would they fend for themselves? Was it indeed appropriate for these people on the lower echelons of Jewish society to receive a portion of the Holy Land? Moshe genuinely didn’t know what to do, and so he presented this “shaila” of these loners to God. In other words, he brought the “משפט” of “ן” (“משפט-ן”) before Hashem. As the commentaries note, Moshe was not denied entry in Eretz Israel as a punishment per se, but rather because his whole approach to his children, Bnei Israel, was “old school” and not what they needed to successfully conquer the Land. In order for the Jewish people to succeed, they would need to disperse from each other and learn how to gain a sense of individual personhood and independence. While in the desert, our national persona was front and center, and each individual’s persona was all but invisible. But as we were about to enter the Land, it would be necessary for individuals to emerge as local and municipal leaders, and strong individual personalities would perforce emerge. Moshe was unaccustomed to this kind of frontier ruggedness that would emerge from individuals entering the Land. He still viewed his children as “sheep,” as he called them in our parsha (27:17).

Why Joshua And Not Moshe?

The whole reason why Moshe doubted the worthiness of Tzelafchad’s daughters, the reason why he presented their question to God and couldn’t answer them himself, is because he failed to see them as individuals, capable of taking the mantle of leadership and ownership of their property. Viewing them as just part of a larger flock, Moshe saw them as the weakest societal link. That’s what made him the wrong person to help the Jews settle this new frontier. They instead needed a leader like Joshua, who was a “man with spirit in him” (27:18). That is, because he was a unique individual with a healthy sense of ego, he was able to see each individual as a powerful and unique person, who could accomplish great things independent of the collective. Hashem’s reminder to Moshe that he could not enter Israel, and that he had to stand at the mountain of “two sides,” was reminding Moshe about his leadership style. You were great for “this side,” when the Jews were just finding themselves and needed to learn the Torah from you, their strong leader who knew how to lead a flock. But now that they’re going to the “other side,” they’ll need someone new, someone who could be approached by Tzelafchad’s daughters, who would immediately see their great grit and determination, and would unhesitatingly grant them a portion in the Land of Israel. This is why this interchange between God and Moshe takes place right after the story of Tzelafchad’s daughters, allowing Moshe to better understand that he was being denied entry NOT because Hashem was angry with him, but because the Jewish people needed a new leader for their next chapter of growth.

Finding the Individual in Each of Us

Entering the Three Weeks, we’re meant to rectify the animus that lingers within us. We sometimes fail to see the value in others, because we scrutinize only their “social worth.” Someone may be single, divorced, widowed, too young, too old, look different from the norm, dress differently from others, speak differently, or in other ways may not match up to what a community deems to be of value. These people may be invisible to us because we fail to see them as individuals, and base their worth only on their social standing. We also might superimpose a view of them when they were much younger and more immature, and not see them for who they are today. But if we truly seek to move forward and change for the better, we should try and see every single person standing before us as someone with infinite value because of their holy neshama, created in God’s image. Let’s not misjudge others in the room. The overlooked are often the ones who have the most to contribute and we’d only stand to enrich ourselves by seeing them in a different light. May our efforts at accepting others without prejudgment lead to our Redemption by the end of this season, bb”a.

You Can’t Beat the System

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin PLEASE NOTE: Because of the timing of the end of Shavuot, this week Balak is the Parsha in Israel and Chukat-Balak in the Diaspora. For the Parshat Chukat dvar Torah please .

Why Do We Need the Backstory

Although the story of Balaam and his attempt to curse the Jewish people contains multiple parts, we can boil the story down to two main sections: The first half of the story is the precursor and setup for the main event. It’s all about how Balaam had to be cajoled by Balak and his men to curse Bnei Israel, how he eventually traveled towards the Israelite camp – despite some bumps and obstacles along the road – and finally, how he prepared to curse them by constructing altars in an attempt to channel spiritual forces. The second part of the story is really the main event: the narrative of the actual words that Balaam pronounced. He attempted to curse Bnei Israel multiple times, but each time, words of blessing came out instead. We certainly understand why the second part of the story is recorded in the Torah. Some of the most important and poignant pronouncements about the special character of the Jewish people and our relationship to Hashem are recorded in this section. But why is Balaam’s journey toward his destination so important as to occupy the entire first half of the parsha? Let’s first note something about Balaam that is not clearly delineated in our text. Balaam was renowned as a powerful sorcerer. In fact, in recapping the story of Balaam and how he met his demise, the book of Joshua (13:22) identifies Balaam as “Balaam the sorcerer.” Furthermore, the Torah tells us that when Balak’s men came to greet Balaam they had (22:7) “קְסָמִים בְּיָדָם,” sorcerer’s tools with them. According to Rashi and others, they knew that Balaam was a sorcerer, and so they brought along some of his tools of the trade so that he’d be able to depart with them immediately without delay, and curse the Jews.

Balaam Not New to the Scene

Additionally, there are some extremely rich and fanciful Midrashim about Balaam. The Midrash states that when Moshe and Aharon first came to Pharaoh’s court demanding that he free the Jews, Balaam was one of those unnamed chief magicians present (the “חרטומי מצרים”, as in Ex. 7:11). Together with his two sons, Jannes and Jambres, Balaam succeeded in replicating many of the early miracles that Moshe performed in Egypt, including turning staffs into serpents. The end of our parsha depicts how the Midianite women seduced Jewish men to sin, which caused thousands of men to die in a plague. This devious tactic of getting Jews to sin was concocted by Balaam. Perhaps the most fantastical imagery of sorcery depicted by the Midrash (see Rashi to 31:6) is when Balaam was being pursued by Pinchas in order to avenge the deaths that Balaam had caused. Balaam knew how to fly by means of sorcery, and so he took flight into the clouds in order to escape being captured. Pinchas had a trick or two up his sleeve as well. He flashed the Kohen Gadol’s “Tzitz,” the forehead plate, up at Balaam. One look at the Tzitz caused Balaam’s magic to fail, and he fell to the earth. The Zohar relates that even after Balaam was captured, the Jewish leaders tried all types of weapons to kill Balaam, but his magic was so strong that no matter how much they tried, he wouldn’t die! Pinchas gave a special magic sword to Tzalya from the tribe of Dan. On each side of the sword was engraved the image of a serpent, and it was only through this sword that Balaam was able to be finally executed (Balaam’s death by the sword is recorded in Num. 31:8).

A New Test Upon Entering the Land

What are we to make of all this? I believe that Chazal are communicating to us why Balaam came into the lives of the Jewish people right before they were to enter Eretz Israel. When a person stands at the precipice of a truly formidable new chapter of his life, where one will have to work hard, and there is a chance that they may fail in their new endeavor, all kinds of negative thoughts come into one’s head. Besides fearing failure, a person may be tempted to try any shortcut he can in order to succeed. Instead of the hard work I know it will take in order to succeed, maybe I can figure out an angle to make myself look good, or figure out some way how to cheat the system, so that I’ll emerge with the same outcome without having to put in all that work. Hashem wanted the Jewish people to know: while there are people like that in the world, that’s not what I expect of you. As Balaam himself remarked about the Jewish people (23:23) “כִּי לֹא־נַחַשׁ בְּיַעֲקֹב וְלֹא־קֶסֶם בְּיִשְׂרָאֵל” – “There is no divination in Jacob, no sorcery in Israel.” That is, despite the temptation to imitate those who look for easy shortcuts, the Jewish people put in an honest day’s work instead. We don’t seek the easy way out or try to beat the system. Especially when we were about to enter the Promised Land, when we would face formidable enemies and would have to be diligent in our efforts, this was an important message for our people to hear. The Midrashim that depict Balaam as the snake-associated sorcerer who knows how to fly are cuing us into the personality of Balaam. Here was a man who was always looking for an angle of how to beat the system. Human flight in particular was a common motif in ancient and medieval mythological literature. Many such stories, like that of the Greek legend of Icarus, describe a tragic hero who used flight in an attempt to transcend the normal constraints placed upon a person who wishes to succeed. When the individual finds the normal path to success too slow and laborious, he “takes flight” and tries to circumvent the normal path, which usually ends with tragic results.

Putting in An Honest Day's Work

This is the story of Balaam, and it is a cautionary tale to the Jewish people: Stop trying to beat the system. You won’t be able to conquer Eretz Israel through magic or other means that haven’t been endorsed by Hashem. The only way to succeed is to embrace the Torah and its prescriptions for success. Do the mitzvot, fear G-d, deal honestly in your business affairs, put in an honest day’s work, and you will do just fine. It may not be as easy, flashy, or impressive as other methods, but in the end it is the only means to true success. I believe that this is why so much space is devoted to Balaam’s journey. He was such a twisted personality, always trying to figure out a new angle. He tried it with Balak’s men, and he tried it with the angel that he encountered on the road with his talking donkey. In these brief vignettes leading up to the actual blessings uttered by Balaam, we get a glimpse of why he was such a tragic figure who was doomed to failure. His constant efforts at trying to buck the system would inevitably cause his tragic downfall. The Jewish community has its share of “shvitzers,” a term for ambitious young men who seek to make a quick buck by figuring out an angle to beat the system. Unfortunately, there are too many stories of members of our faith who failed in these efforts, and also the fallout to others who got caught up in these schemes. The story of Balaam reminds us that there is no way to circumvent Hashem’s intended path for each and every one of us. You may think you can slip through like a slithering serpent, or fly above the road when everyone else is walking down it. But in the end, Hashem runs the world and even the greatest sleight of hand will eventually catch up with you. May we succeed in proceeding in a straight line, putting one foot in front of the other, and putting in one honest day’s work after another, toward success in our professional and spiritual lives. May our efforts bring us admiration from both G-d and men. May this admirable trait of the Jewish people bring us to Redemption, bb”a.

Instead of Knocking Down, Build People Up

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin PLEASE NOTE: Because of the timing of the end of Shavuot, Chukat is the Parsha this week in Israel and next week in the Diaspora. For Parshat Korach (this week in the Diaspora) please click here.

Miriam, Mei Merivah & Esav

Parshas Chukas picks up at the 40th year of the Jews’ sojourn in the desert (Ibn Ezra). The nation is getting very close to the end of their journey, and we read in these final parshios of Bamidbar some of the growing pains involved in getting ready for the nation’s imminent entry into Eretz Israel. After Miriam dies, the events of Mei Merivah, where Moshe drew water from the rock, transpire (ch. 20). While unclear from the passages, Moshe and Aharon did something very wrong in Hashem’s view, and were therefore punished with being denied entry into the Promised Land. Immediately after the story of Mei Merivah, we read that Moshe sent emissaries from Kadesh, where the Jews were encamped, to the King of Edom, asking him for passage through his land (20:14). The King of Edom flatly refused and even threatened war if the Jews would attempt to tread on his soil. Because Edom were the descendants of Esav, our mishpacha, Hashem had instructed Moshe (as detailed in Deut. 2:2-6) that we could not provoke or in any way intimidate Esav’s descendants, and so we had to retreat. Our question is: why are these two stories connected? Why does the Torah connect the story of Moshe’s and Aharon’s failure at Mei Merivah to the story of having to circumvent Esav’s land? The Midrash (Bamidbar Rabbah 19:15) answers this question by stating that this underscores Moshe’s piety, with a parable: Revuen entrusts his friend Shimon to invest his life savings. Shimon ends up losing all of Reuven’s money. The normal reaction of Reuven would be to seek to avoid Shimon and have nothing to do with him. But Moshe was different; even though he was punished because of the Jewish people, this didn’t stop him from loving them and wishing to take care of them. Even though he could not enter Eretz Israel, this would not stop him from trying to get them there as quickly and directly as possible, even if it meant ingratiating himself to the hostile Edomites. This Midrash is a beautiful message which contains a valuable lesson in leadership.

The Impact of Mei Merivah on the People

We offer a different possible connection. We can learn the nature of Moshe’s and Aharon’s sin by looking at the aftereffects and how the sin impacted Bnei Israel. Let’s examine the passages carefully: The story starts with “Moshe” first sending a message via proxies (20:17): “Let us pass through your land; we will not pass through field or vineyard, nor will we drink any well water. We will only walk on the king’s road. We will not veer to the right or left until after we pass through your land.” King of Edom refuses, saying (20:18), “You will not pass through me, lest I come out against you with the sword.” But then, the story continues with not “Moshe,” but this time “Bnei Israel” sending a second petition (20:19): “Bnei Israel said to him: Let us pass through your back roads. If we drink any of your water, we’ll pay for it. It’s no big deal: I’ll just pass through by foot.” Why the second request? And, why in the first request did Moshe insist that they wouldn’t drink any water, but in the second request Bnei Israel said that whatever water they’d drink they’d pay for? Here is where we learn about the demoralizing effect upon the people at Mei Merivah. Hashem had instructed Moshe to speak to the rock and it would miraculously flow its water. This was meant to be a lesson to the Jewish people, that at this stage of their development and maturation, now in their 40th year, they had truly grown up. Just as a mature child should be reasoned with and not brow-beaten, the Jews were now fully developed and ready to enter the Promised Land. But instead, Moshe struck the rock. This gave the Jewish people the false impression that they were still childlike and undeveloped. This made them feel unprepared and unconfident about their future. They weren’t even sure how long the water would continue to flow from the rock.

Insecurity in Bnei Yisrael

Moshe made his request on behalf of the princely Jewish people: “Let us pass through your land. We are the people of miracles and do not require any of your water, since we’ll be traveling with our own miraculous water supply. We are an exalted nation, who should only travel on the ‘King’s road,’ the path for sophisticates and aristocrats.” When the King of Edom refused, the rest of Bnei Israel thought that maybe if they made a more humble request they’d stand a better chance. They didn’t esteem themselves in the same way as Moshe had portrayed them. They therefore requested, “At least grant us passage through your back roads. We might need water on the way (since we’re not confident that our miraculous water supply will hold out), but we promise to pay for whatever we take. It’s no big deal to let a humble group such as ours walk through in this way!” Sensing their lack of confidence in that second request, the King of Edom not only threatened them, but this time actually came out with an army, ready to attack. It was this weakness and lack of confidence that Moshe had signaled to the Jewish people which made it impossible for him to lead them into and conquer the Land, since he still saw the nation as his child-like students. Bnei Israel needed a new leader who would instill within them the confidence they needed to be great conquerors. This is why the story of Mei Merivah precedes our story; it is to demonstrate why Hashem was so harsh with Moshe and Aharon in denying them entry in Eretz Israel. Here is a concrete example of how their action at Mei Merivah left the people insecure and unconfident.

Confidence and Lack of

The Torah provides us with a very tangible lesson in how to build up our children and others under our influence. If we signal to them that we lack confidence in them, they will lack confidence in themselves. We should try our best to build our children up and express to them our confidence in their abilities. When children and young adults have low self-esteem, they feel unloved and unhappy with themselves. They fear taking risks, which is necessary for achieving excellence. We should instead give them a message of, “You can do it!” and then step aside so that they have the space to spread their wings. Some have suggested that we live in an over-coddling age, where our children are smothered by their parents. They become “snowflakes” who are easily hurt and cannot tolerate confrontation and dissenting ideas. This not only engenders intolerance; it also signals to our children that we don’t have the confidence that they can handle adversity and take on formidable situations in life. There is no greater disservice to our children than making them feel that they can’t handle the world on their own. May our children realize the confidence they need to be successful adults and successful servants of G-d. May we all have the confidence in ourselves and our people to realize together the Redemption, bb”a.

We’re All Responsible for Each Other

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin PLEASE NOTE: Because of the timing of the end of Shavuot, Korach is the Parsha this week in Israel and next week in the Diaspora. For Parshat Shelach (this week in the Diaspora) please . We’re all familiar with the Talmudic aphorism (TB Shavuos 39a), “כל ישראל ערבים זה בזה” – All Israel are responsible for each other. This ‘Arevut, or acceptance of responsibility for each other’s behavior, is embedded within several verses of the Torah. An example of just how far this communal responsibility goes can be found in the story of ‘Achan (Joshua ch. 7). When destroying the city of Jericho, Joshua declared that all the contents of the city were to be dedicated to Hashem, and that no one was permitted to take any of the spoils for themselves. Scripture (7:1) relates that “The children of Israel violated the ban on the spoils,” but in reality, only one man, ‘Achan, secretly took some of the spoils for himself. As a result, Hashem punished the entire nation. The next battle the army fought suffered 36 casualties as a result. When asked why this happened, Hashem responded to Joshua, “Israel has sinned, and violated my covenant” by taking the spoils.

Communal Responsibility

This idea of communal responsibility seems deeply ingrained within our people. That is why it is so strange to encounter a passage where the leaders of Israel imply the opposite. After Korach gathered a group of 250 men with censor pans to rebel against the leadership, Hashem told Moshe and Aharon that they should separate from the people so that He might destroy them (16:21). Moshe and Aharon fell on their faces, and beseeched Hashem to change his mind, saying (16:22): אֵל אֱלֹהֵי הָרוּחֹת לְכָל־בָּשָׂר הָאִישׁ אֶחָד יֶחֱטָא וְעַל כָּל־הָעֵדָה תִּקְצֹף Lord! The G-d who knows the thoughts of all flesh. Shall one man sin and You become wrathful against the whole congregation!? How do we make sense of this challenge? After all, Hashem was only proposing that which was already made known, that in Judaism, we are responsible for each other! If Korach and his men were sinning, then the rest of the community should have to bear some level of responsibility. Why were they arguing to the contrary? What’s even more astonishing is a Midrash which discusses this idea of ‘Arevut. The Midrash quotes our verse, “Shall one man sin,” etc., but instead of reading it as a rhetorical question, the Midrash reads it as a statement of fact: “When one man sins, You, Hashem, become wrathful against the whole congregation.” It then offers a parable to demonstrate the point: A group of people are all sitting in a boat. One man pulls out a drill and starts drilling a hole beneath him. His friends say, “What are you doing?!” He responds, “What do you care? I’m just drilling beneath my own seat!” They justifiably respond that by drilling a hole underneath his seat, he will sink the entire boat. How can the Midrash take a verse which argues against communal responsibility and use it to support that very value?!

Collective Punishment

I asked my two teenaged sons if they could help me answer the question. I posed the following to them: Let’s say one of your classmates in yeshiva commits some kind of infraction. Under what circumstances would you feel it fair for the entire yeshiva to be punished for that action, and under what circumstances would you feel that the sole perpetrator should be singled out for retribution? They answered that it depended on the type of crime committed. If the young man did something that was so out of character from the rest of the yeshiva, the yeshiva had done nothing to contribute to this person’s behavior, and the person’s behavior is not representative of the yeshiva, then it was not fair to punish the rest of the yeshiva. If, for example, the boy was caught in a night club in Tel Aviv, sans kippah, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, this would not be a case of ruining the yeshiva’s reputation and the young man should be expelled and the rest of the yeshiva left alone. But if the young man’s behavior is in some way reflective of a certain character flaw that may exist within others in the yeshiva, and if this person’s action is a stain on the entire yeshiva, it would be fair for everyone in the yeshiva to bear responsibility. Let’s say, for example, the young man went to Ben Yehuda St. with his yeshiva garb and then started smoking, drinking, and fraternizing with girls. This flagrant and open behavior indicates that there’s something amiss within the yeshiva culture, and the whole yeshiva would have to be disciplined, not just the young man in question.

One Bad Apple

Their response was helpful to me, in that it suggests that sometimes collective punishment is fair, and sometimes it’s not. In the case of ‘Achan, we’d surmise that he was doing something that was on the mind of a lot of people. His action did not occur in a vacuum, and it also reflected badly on the rest of the nation. This is why collective punishment was justified in that situation. Moshe and Aharon were arguing to the G-d who is described in the verse as “אֱלֹהֵי הָרוּחֹת לְכָל־בָּשָׂר” - the G-d who knows man’s innermost thoughts. You, Hashem, know that the Jewish people in general were never thinking about an insurrection against us. Korach is a sole bad apple who has incited others through his rhetoric and charm. His crime is not reflective of the true character of the people, and they therefore do not deserve to be punished. It would seem to me that there’s one more distinction to be made in our story. In other cases where collective punishment is doled out against the people, the leaders weren’t warned in advance about G-d’s plan. However, in this case, Hashem notified Moshe and Aharon that He was about to destroy the entire congregation. This was a subtle cue to Moshe and Aharon that they were meant to intercede on behalf of the people (the same can be said of other episodes where Hashem tells Moshe that He’s about to destroy the people, as in the sin of the Golden Calf and the sin of the Spies). This seems to indicate that during this incipient stage of learning about what it means to be a Jew, Hashem was patient with the Jewish people and was willing to extend to them an allowance of making mistakes that could be atoned by the proper corrective actions. Hashem was implying to Moshe: In reality, the entire congregation deserves to be punished. But this is still a foreign concept to this first generation of Jews. Let them know what they deserve, so that in the future if one of them sins, they should know that they will all have to bear responsibility.

Communal Responsibility

In this sense, Moshe and Aharon’s words were both a rhetorical question AND a statement of fact. For this first, innocent generation of early Jews, it was meant rhetorically. They weren’t yet versed in the ways of G-d and communal responsibility, and so it wasn’t fair to collectively punish them. But it was a statement of fact for future generations, who would be more aware of the Torah’s teachings, as well as feel a natural sense of kinship with the rest of their countrymen. This explains how the Midrash could turn Moshe and Aharon’s rhetorical question, “Shall one man sin and You become wrathful against the whole congregation!?” into an affirmative statement. One might with to consider the issue of communal responsibility in light of every shul’s individual culture. If a small group of people speak in shul during tefillah, then it depends on what the synagogue’s culture is to determine whether this is a communal problem or that of individuals. If the behavior is considered normal for that congregation, then there may be something amiss in the entire congregation. If it’s an aberration of the kehillah’s decorum, that’s an entirely different story. It’s really up to all of us, members of our respective kehillot, to make things right. Let’s be mindful of how we can maintain the holiness and decorum of our Mikdash Me’at. May we continue our holy journey together as a community, until we return to the Holy Land and Redemption, bb”a.

All Change is Difficult and Scary

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin PLEASE NOTE: Because of the timing of the end of Shavuot, Shelach is the Parsha this week in Israel and next week in the Diaspora. For Parshat Beha'alotecha (this week in the Diaspora) please click here.

Fear of change

We encounter different historical periods that represent quantum leaps of advancement. Some leaps are technological: The development of tools in the Bronze Age was one such leap; the printing press of the 15th century was another; another was the industrial revolution of the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Other civilizational leaps occurred in the realm of social structures and ideologies. Written language, created some time around 3200 BCE, was one such game-changer. Demonstration of a heliocentric model for the sun and planets in the 16th century was another. For the Jewish people, the most pivotal era of ideological quantum advancement and change was probably the 40-year sojourn in the desert. Change can be frightening. Man tends to be more at ease when surrounded by things and experiences that are familiar to him. Changes to those surroundings – even when the changes are positive – can be disorienting and threatening. Gutenberg’s printing press was attacked by monks in the 15th century because they believed that mass production of the Bible by machine would (a) put monks out of work and make them lazy, and (b) put the Bible in the hands of common folk, who weren’t sophisticated enough to interpret the Bible properly. In retrospect, we realize just how absurd these criticisms were. Fear of change has always been the driving force behind resisting advancement, and it continues to this day with what is called “techno-panic.”

A Traumatized Nation

The Jewish people also harbored this great fear, as they were undergoing so many changes all at once. Not only had they been violently ripped from their homes in Egypt; their whole societal system was evolving from a slave class to independent land owners. While an outsider could see how glorious this change was, we can only imagine the great trepidation the Jews experienced when considering all of these changes occurring in such a short span of time. This helps us at least sympathize with their anxious response when hearing the ten Spies’ negative report. In looking carefully at their report, we note that at no point did the Spies ever dispute the fact that the Land was, as Hashem had promised, a “land flowing with milk and honey.” They used those very words to describe how lush and plentiful the land was, and even brought back produce to prove that point (13:27). In fact, their main complaint was not at all about the quality of the Land, but rather the fearsomeness of the inhabitants. “אֶפֶס כִּי־עַז הָעָם הַיֹּשֵׁב בָּאָרֶץ וְהֶעָרִים בְּצֻרוֹת גְּדֹלֹת מְאֹד וְגַם־יְלִדֵי הָעֲנָק רָאִינוּ שָׁם” – “The only thing is, the indigenous nation is strong. The cities are well-fortified, and we saw members of the [fierce] ‘Anak family there.” They further complained about the Amalekites, a hostile nation they had already encountered in the desert, as well as all the other formidable Canaanite tribes (13:27-28).

The Report of the Meraglim

The only statement we can point to where the Spies criticized the actual land is their words (13:32), “אֶרֶץ אֹכֶלֶת יוֹשְׁבֶיהָ הִוא” which is usually translated as, “It is a land that consumes its inhabitants.” But Rabbi Joseph ibn Caspi was bothered by this reading. How could they contradict their own glowing report of the beautiful land just a few verses earlier? He instead translated the verse as, “The inhabitants of the Land are consumers.” Instead of “the Land consumes its inhabitants,” it’s rather “the inhabitants consume their Land.” That is, even though the land produces a tremendous amount of bounty, the inhabitants are of such great size and strength, that they have ravenous appetites and consume everything that the Land produces. With this translation, the Spies’ never disparaged the Land itself. This reading is quite revealing, because it not only was an intimidating testament of how powerful the indigenous tribes of Eretz Israel were. It was also a suggestion that by entering the Land of Israel, we, too, Bnei Israel – even if we do succeed in our conquest – might fall prey to the allure of the Land just as its current inhabitants have. They have become gluttonous consumers of the flowing milk and honey of the Land; what will become of us? Will we not also become the same insatiably hungry nation? Will our wealth and opulence do us in?! This was yet one more frightening adjustment that the Jews realized that they’d need to make, a socio-economic change from being impoverished slaves to wealthy and indulgent land barons.

Work Ethic and Purpose

This reading also provides a new meaning to their expressed fear about their wives and children (14:3): “נָשֵׁינוּ וְטַפֵּנוּ יִהְיוּ לָבַז”. While Onkelos understands the word “לָבַז” as “being taken captives,” the word can also mean “disgrace.” Perhaps what they were saying is that if the Land is so plentiful, then our success will be our failure. Our wives and children will lose their work ethic and become disgraceful couch potatoes instead. We should return to Egypt, so that we can instill within our children the ethic of an honest day’s hard work. In this sense, Hashem’s decree that they would have to wander the desert for forty years wasn’t so much a punishment but a necessary waiting period of maturation and evolution. Seeing how the people couldn’t handle such a sudden shock to their infrastructures, Hashem decreed that entry into the Land would have to take an entire generation of adjustment before the next generation would be ready to become land owners. After Hashem’s decree, the Torah details many mitzvos having to do with korbanos (sacrifices) and tithing. This makes sense if the fear of the Jews was that their newfound wealth would corrupt them. Hashem’s response to this legitimate concern was that while wealth can corrupt, it can also be used for very positive things, like bringing gifts from one’s blessings to Hashem and to the Kohanim. The Torah also repeats the laws of the sinner’s sacrifice, to remind the people that while wealth can induce sin, it’s also possible to atone for sin by using that very wealth.

The “מקשש”

This reading may also explain why our parsha concludes with the story of the “מקשש”, the person who violated Shabbos by gathering sticks. Why did he do it, especially in light of our Sages’ teaching that he was forewarned that his act was a violation of the Torah? Many of our Sages understand that he acted “l’shem Shamayim,” with virtuous intentions. He wanted Bnei Israel to witness that although they were not entering the Promised Land, the mitzvos were still binding upon them. Perhaps a deeper meaning to his “l’shem Shamayim” was that he wanted to remind Bnei Israel that while their concern about excessive wealth was founded, they also needed to remember that if Hashem is bringing us to a luxurious Land where we’ll be able to occasionally rest, then it is something we can handle. Look how He commanded us to observe Shabbos, a day where we must desist from all work and resist the virtuous impulse for productivity. Note that the only other time that the verb “קשש” is used in the Torah is back in Exodus (5:7 and 5:12) when the Jewish slaves in Egypt were commanded to gather straw to make bricks for their taskmasters. This man’s stick-gathering was to remind the Jews that hard work should not be romanticized to the point where we forget the suffering we experienced when hard work was taken to the extreme. We’ve undergone multiple societal paradigm shifts in the last few years. These changes have brought an accompanying anxiety and fear to many within the civilized world. This anxiety has manifested in so many different ways, and it’s been important for the grown-ups in the room to try and restore a sense of calm and normalcy.

A Beautiful Future

Change also occurs within Jewish community. Communities invariably grow, shrink, integrate, or disintegrate. Let’s all try to respond to those changes with positivity and optimism. If you question the change, consider to yourself: Is my criticism founded on a genuine grievance that the change is a bad one? Or, am I romanticizing a past that was beautiful when it existed, but that cannot or will not be any longer? May we learn to welcome change as part of Hashem’s unfolding plan of ultimate Redemption, may we see it, bb”a.