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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.

When the Right Instincts Kick In

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin PLEASE NOTE: Because of the timing of the end of Shavuot, Beha'alotecha is the Parsha this week in Israel and next week in the Diaspora. For Parshat Naso (this week in the Diaspora) please . Miriam loved her little brother Moshe like a mother loves a child. She was the same Miriam who hid in the bulrushes all those years ago when baby Moshe was placed in the basket in Nile River. Her disparagement of her brother was made out of love and a concern that maybe he had gone off the deep end in some way, and that he was being excessive in his religious commitment as spiritual leader of the people. Nonetheless, she was punished with leprosy for having misunderstood who her brother really was, and slandering him to their brother, Aharon, in the process. Seeing how his sister had been afflicted, Moshe cried out to Hashem with a five-word prayer (12:13): "אֵל נָא רְפָא נָא לָהּ: " – “G-d, please, heal, please, her.” Some commentaries understand that Moshe used this word “נא” in his prayer twice, because the word has a dual meaning. “נא” means “please,” and it also means “now.” It seems that this word expresses the emotional desperation of its utterer, and a need which can be fulfilled by the person being petitioned. At the same time, it lets the listener know that there’s a timely urgency to that plea. Moshe was beseeching Hashem to heal her immediately, so that she wouldn’t have to undergo the humiliation of being sequestered outside the camp. Hashem responded aptly that Miriam needed to undergo some level of penance in order to expiate her sin. This is why, although Hashem did heal her, the second “נא” request of healing her immediately could not be fulfilled.

Short but Sweet

Rashi asks an interesting question: Why was Moshe’s recorded prayer so short? Why did he only devote five words of entreaty for his beloved sister? Was it because he resented the lashon hara? No, not Moshe. As a matter of fact, the Alshich understands the double usage of the word “נא” as a way of expressing to Hashem: “I know that Miriam has offended both You and me through her slander. Let’s both You and I forgive Miriam for her trespass, one ‘נא’ for You, and one ‘נא’ for me.” Rashi instead offers two answers as to what Moshe intended by such a short prayer: (1) There’s a time for prayer and a time for action. Miriam needs to be placed into isolation and only then can she heal. I will therefore shorten my prayer so that we can address Miriam’s remedy with the greatest immediacy. (2) I’m concerned that if I pray lengthily for Miriam, the people looking on will think I care more about my own sister than I do about them. They will feel estranged from me and will be demoralized. I cannot afford to spend more time on my sister than on my “flock.” I need to show them that they are no less important than my sister.

Prayer vs Action

We find a fascinating parallel between this story and a story that occurred back when the Jews were first leaving Egypt. Let’s recall that the Jews found themselves trapped, with the Egyptians pursuing them from the rear and the Red Sea blocking their passage from the front. Hashem said to Moshe (Ex. 14:15) “מַה־תִּצְעַק אֵלָי דַּבֵּר אֶל־בְּנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵל וְיִסָּעוּ” – “Why are you crying out to Me? Tell Bnei Israel to go!” Notice that the very same verb of “צעק” is used in both passages, both when Moshe was crying out to Hashem to save the trapped Jews, and when crying out to Hashem to save Miriam. Rashi comments on the words in Shemos, “מַה־תִּצְעַק אֵלָי” – “Why are you crying out?” with the following two explanations: (1) There’s a time for prayer and a time for action. The Jews need to act by proceeding forward into the Sea. You, Moshe, should therefore curtail your prayer and have them act. (2) If you pray lengthily for Bnei Israel, they will think that I’m only saving them because of your prayer, and not because I, as their loving G-d, actually care about them. That will make them feel estranged from Me and demoralized. I need to show them that they are important to Me, independent of your efforts on their behalf.

Effective Prayer

We see an uncanny similarity, both in the verses themselves, and in Rashi’s commentary. In both cases, we first learn a theological lesson about when prayer is to be used effectively. Only after you’ve exhausted all other intercessional efforts should you expend energy on lengthy prayer. But if there’s something proactive that you can do to alleviate the current plight, it’s not appropriate to take away time from that endeavor in order to pray. The second lesson is one of leadership, in that in both cases, the leader wished to provide assurances to his people that he loved them and cared for them. Perhaps this is the reason why Moshe’s short prayer was recorded in the text in the first place. After all, the Torah did not record Moshe’s plea to Hashem at the Sea; it simply states that Hashem said to him, “Why are you crying out?” Why were the words of Moshe’s plea recorded here, when he was praying for Miriam? Consider what Miriam’s complaint against Moshe was in the first place: Moshe is acting as if he’s too holy and exalted for this terrestrial plane. As our Sages explain, Miriam felt that Moshe was incorrect in divorcing his wife and living a life of celibacy. “We, too, have been spoken to by G-d, and we’ve been able to maintain our prosaic marriages and lives. Why should Moshe feel he’s any different?” Hashem responded that Moshe was, indeed, on a completely different plane of holiness and Divine communication from all other prophets. He had transcended his humanity and was now much closer to level of the Divine than any other human being.

Close to the Divine

As a way of demonstrating this, Hashem chose to record Moshe’s very petition on behalf of his sister: See how his very attitude during his prayer demonstrates his newfound closeness to G-d. Previously, Moshe had to be instructed about when to pray and when to act. Previously, Hashem had to teach Moshe about how a leader needs to model his love and care for his flock. But look at Moshe now: He is so close to the Divine, in his fulfillment of imitatio Dei, in walking in G-d’s ways, that he intuitively and extemporaneously knew that he had to shorten his prayer. This act in itself demonstrates how different Moshe is from other human beings. He has fully internalized Divine behavior into the very fabric of his being. Many of us remember the “Miracle on the Hudson” in 2009, when pilot Sully Sullenberger was able to successfully emergency land a plane on the Hudson River after striking a flock of birds and losing all engine power. At the time, one rabbi wrote that he was unimpressed by Sully’s heroic act because it was all done in a split second and no moral forethought was involved. Another rabbi responded with a scathing critique of the first rabbi, pointing out, correctly, that the years of training that Sully underwent to anticipate such an emergency demonstrates a moral courage that was so deeply embedded within the man, that it emerged spontaneously during that split second when it was needed. The same can be said about Moshe: he had so internalized the theological and moral lessons of Hashem and His ways, that even during an emotionally turbulent event of his sister falling ill, he was able to instinctively imitate Hashem.

The Cumulative Effect of Prayer

This is truly an admirable trait, and it is why we spend our entire lives engrossed in Torah study, prayer, and acts of kindness. We may not realize the cumulative effects that these behaviors have upon us, but rest assured that at those crucial moments in life, when we are called upon to act instinctively without the opportunity for premeditation, our Torah values and past behaviors kick in and cause us to act with virtue and in keeping with our tradition. May we always rise to the call should it ever be needed, and may our Judaism be so deeply embedded so that it become second nature for us to walk in Hashem’s ways. May that commitment to the Torah lifestyle bring us ever closer to Redemption, bb”a.

Wondrous and Wonderful

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin PLEASE NOTE: Because of the timing of the end of Shavuot, Naso is the Parsha this week in Israel and next week in the Diaspora.

The word “פלא”

There’s a Hebrew word that keeps appearing in the context of the Nazir, the man or woman who takes a vow of abstinence from wine and hair grooming. The word is “פלא,” and it’s usually translated as a “wonder” or something out of the ordinary. For example, the very first time it appears in Tanakh is when Sarah laughed at the prospect of having a child at the age of 90. Hashem said to Avraham (Gen. 18:14): “הֲיִפָּלֵא מֵיְקֹוָק דָּבָר” – “Is anything too wondrous for G-d?!” And yet, in the context of the Nazir, the word is used to describe his or her vow of Nazirism (6:2):

דַּבֵּר אֶל־בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וְאָמַרְתָּ אֲלֵהֶם אִישׁ אוֹ־אִשָּׁה כִּי יַפְלִא לִנְדֹּר נֶדֶר נָזִיר לְהַזִּיר לַיקֹוָק

Speak to Bnei Israel and say to them: When a man or woman wishes to utter a vow of Nazirism to become a Nazir to Hashem. The word “פלא” is also used twice in the book of Vayikra to describe a pledge to the Temple, once for a sacrificial pledge (22:21), and once for an “’erchin” pledge, when one pledges a valuation to the Temple (27:2). Why is a word that describes “wonder” used to define to Temple pledges?

Shimshon’s birth

Furthermore, our Haftarah (from Judges 13) discusses the story of Shimshon’s birth, and how an angel came to Manoach and his wife to portend the birth of their son, and that he would need to be a lifelong Nazir from birth. In this narrative, the word “פלא” oddly appears twice. The angel first promises Manoach and his wife that they will have a very special son and that he must be a Nazir his whole life. When Manoach asks the angel his name, the angel responds (Jud. 13:18): “לָמָּה זֶּה תִּשְׁאַל לִשְׁמִי וְהוּא־פֶלִאי:” – “Why are you asking my name? It is wondrous!” In the next verse, Manoach places a sacrificial offering to Hashem on a rock. The verse then says (13:19), “וּמַפְלִא לַעֲשׂוֹת” – “he,” ostensibly the angel, performed miraculous wonders by causing a fire to come down and consume the sacrifice, while Manoah and his wife looked on. There seems to be a clear correlation between Nazirism and this word for both “wonder” and “pledge.” It would seem that this word “פלא” is descriptive of doing something extraordinary that transcends the nature of either the doer or the natural order of things. When Hashem is described as an (Ex. 15:11) “עֹשֵׂה פֶלֶא” – “a Doer of wonders,” it is in the context of His splitting of the Red Sea. This is where Hashem took a completely inanimate body of water, and brought it to life and had it do something which was completely against its nature. When a person takes a pledge to transcend their nature, they are doing something wondrous. Just as a person who achieves an extraordinary athletic feat, like breaking a world record for speed for jumping, has done something “wondrous,” so, too, a person who goes beyond their own natural desires and tendencies, by taking a vow of abstinence, by giving up something of value for G-d, or by using a physical item for purely spiritual purposes, they are “מפליא,” doing something “wondrous.”

The Physical and Spiritual Working in Harmony

Another thing that goes against the natural order is bringing together the physical and the spiritual and having them work in harmony. This is why our Sages instituted a blessing that contains this word “פלא”, when describing the wonders of the human body. All of us have souls that occupy our bodies and animate our lifeless shells in a truly “wondrous” hybridization between the spiritual and the physical. The human body, in this sense, is truly “wondrous.” That is why, after using the bathroom, a person proclaims their wonder and gratitude over this miraculous body that Hashem gave us, by saying, “רופא כל בשר ומפליא לעשות” – Blessed are you Hashem, who heals all flesh and acts wondrously. It is just as wondrous for the body to stay tethered to the spiritual soul as it is for the soul to remain tethered to the physical body. The Nazir is truly “wondrous,” in that he or she transcends their instinctive tendencies for the physical. This is why an angel appeared to Manoach and his wife to portend Shimshon’s birth. An angel is a purely spiritual being, and his very presence in announcing the birth was a message that this child would need to transcend his physical tendency in order to fulfill his task of leading the Jewish people, at a particularly precarious juncture in the history of the nascent Jewish nation. That is why, when asked his name, the angel responded, “וְהוּא־פֶלִאי” – my name is my function – to provide the impetus to make sure that your son does wondrous things with his life! This is also why the next verse states, “וּמַפְלִא לַעֲשׂוֹת” – “he was doing wonders.” This ambiguous phrase refers to both the angel, who performed spiritual manipulations of the physical, and Manoach, who, through his offering was performing physical manipulations of the spiritual. Once the angel created this exchange with his human counterpart, he knew that his task was completed and he could depart back to the heavens, which is described as a miraculous spectacle of the angel ascending through the fire of the altar in the very next verse (13:20).

Physicality from a Place of Spiritual Holiness

In the times of Shimshon, the Jews needed a savior who would manifest as a physically powerful being but would do so from a place of spiritual holiness. They needed this wondrous hybridization of the body and the soul, in order to impress upon them that they could physically defeat their Philistine enemies, but that their strength lay in their spiritual connection to Hashem. Shimshon embodied this message through his Nazirism and incredible physical strength. Any time a person takes a vow of abstinence they are expressing a desire to transcend the purely physical nature of what defines them. Such an effort will not only aid the individual by allowing them to recalibrate an imbalance in their lives between the physical and the spiritual, but it will also trigger a Divine response of “פלא”. If a person wishes to see wondrous things in his life, they should first try and be wondrous themselves and transcend their nature. Our bodies are amazing constructs and it behooves all of us to appreciate the tremendous miracle and complexity of the human body. We should be so thankful every time our bodies work properly, that our hearts are beating, our lungs are breathing, our blood is circulating, and our intestines are digesting. What’s more, it’s truly wondrous that we have the ability, through our heightened intellects, to appreciate the miracles of life. When we find ourselves misaligned in our priorities, we can take the step of transcending who we are right now, and be “מפליא” temporarily to become a figurative Nazir. But we should also express our own wonder at the amazing world and the amazing life that Hashem grants us every single moment of our lives. May our expressions of wonder over this wonderful world bring us ever closer to its perfection, bb”a.

Sharing in the Pain, Sharing in the Joy

By Rabbi Daniel Korobkin Bamidbar is also known as the book of Numbers (חומש הפקודים), because it contains several counts taken of the Jewish people. In taking the mandated census, Moshe was commanded to have not only his brother Aharon with him, but to also invite twelve leaders, one from each tribe, to stand with him when he would take the census (1:4). The Torah then enumerates the names of each of these twelve men (1:5-15): Elitzur ben Shedeur, Shelumiel ben Tzurishaddai, Nachshon ben Amminadav, etc. We discover in next week’s parsha, Naso, that these are the exact same twelve men who inaugurated the Altar in the Mishkan by bringing special korbanos at the very beginning of the Mishkan’s operation (7:2).

Connecting the dots

Why were these twelve men chosen, and why did Hashem see fit to enumerate their names? Rashi (to 7:2) quotes a Midrash which states that these men were already leaders while the Jews were still in Egypt. But their leadership was anything but honorific. In fact, it was quite painful and abasing to represent the Jewish slaves, especially when, as is recorded at the end of Parshas Shemos, the Jews were expected to meet their brick quota while being denied the essential ingredient of straw in order to manufacture the bricks (Ex. ch. 5). There, the Torah states that the Jewish representatives to Pharaoh’s slave operation bore the brunt of the punishment when the Jews could not meet their quota (5:14): וַיֻּכּוּ שֹׁטְרֵי בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל אֲשֶׁר־שָׂמוּ עֲלֵהֶם נֹגְשֵׂי פַרְעֹה לֵאמֹר מַדּוּעַ לֹא כִלִּיתֶם חָקְכֶם לִלְבֹּן כִּתְמוֹל שִׁלְשֹׁם גַּם־תְּמוֹל גַּם־הַיּוֹם The Jewish officers who were appointed by Pharaoh’s taskmasters were beaten, because of the argument: “Why haven’t you fulfilled the quota as you had been doing previously?” These men went to Pharaoh’s palace and begged for mercy, but to no avail. The Torah writes (5:19) that they found themselves in the terrible situation of requiring an impossible quota from their brethren. Instead of forcing their fellow Jews to overwork and be broken, they absorbed the painful beatings from the Egyptian taskmasters.

Rewarded for Being Punished

We may even find a slight allusion to this Midrash in the words of our parsha, which states, somewhat bizarrely that (1:17) “וַיִּקַּח מֹשֶׁה וְאַהֲרֹן אֵת הָאֲנָשִׁים הָאֵלֶּה אֲשֶׁר נִקְּבוּ בְּשֵׁמֹת:” – “Moshe and Aharon took these men, whose names were specified.” The phrase “אֲשֶׁר נִקְּבוּ בְּשֵׁמֹת” – “whose names were specified” is completely superfluous, and it’s also worded strangely. But perhaps it can also be translated as: “who were weakened / injured (since “נִקְּב֖וּ” can also be translated as punctured or weakened) in the book of Shemos.”  Because they took a beating for their brethren, they were rewarded with rising to greatness after the Exodus. But it’s also quite apropos for their greatness to be manifest in these two incidents, both in our parsha, in joining Moshe and Aharon as census takers, and in next week’s parsha as offering inaugural sacrifices for their respective tribes. In order to properly take a census, one must have care, concern, and affection for each individual who is being counted, since each and every person counts. This is why the Torah uses the word “שא” when commanding the census. It doesn’t just mean “to count”, but also “to lift up” or hold in high regard. Imagine these twelve men, looking into the eyes of each person who passed before them for the census, thinking only about their connection to and feelings of love for each person for whom they had taken another blow of the club or whip back in Egypt.

The Ego

Similarly, in order for one’s korban to be effective for one’s entire tribe and to truly be considered a communal sacrifice, one must be able to completely lose one’s own ego and sense of self and think only of one’s tribesmen when offering the flour and animal on the Altar. We can certainly appreciate how each of these twelve men, who had demonstrated this kind of selflessness in the past, was able to put himself aside and think only of his people. This is reminiscent of a Midrash that directly pertains to our upcoming festival of Shavuos. We read of Yitro’s visit to his son-in-law, Moshe, in the book of Shemot immediately before the Jews stand at Mount Sinai to hear the Ten Commandments and accept the Torah. There’s a verse that acts as a bridge between these two narratives and reads (18:27): “וַיְשַׁלַּח מֹשֶׁה אֶת־חֹתְנוֹ וַיֵּלֶךְ לוֹ אֶל־אַרְצוֹ:” – Moshe sent his father-in-law away, and he returned to his land. Why did Moshe feel it necessary to send Yitro back home, especially at this most crucial historical juncture when Bnei Israel were about to receive the Torah? The Midrash answers using a verse from Proverbs (14:10): “לֵב יוֹדֵעַ מָרַּת נַפְשׁוֹ וּבְשִׂמְחָתוֹ לֹא־יִתְעָרַב זָר:” – “The heart knows its own bitterness; and during its happiness, no stranger may mix in.” If Yitro was at home, safe and secure, when Bnei Israel were entrenched in hard labor, he was oblivious to their bitterness. It would not be appropriate for him to enjoy their success at Mount Sinai. Only someone who truly suffers with the Jewish people can enjoy their sweet victories, the most important being the acceptance of the Torah. Only these twelve men, who truly tasted the bitterest rod of affliction on behalf of their brethren, could enjoy Israel’s greatest moments of success during their glorious census and the inauguration of their holy place. How can we emulate them?

Being Counted Amongst the Jews of Eretz Yisrael

Today, Bnei Israel living in the Land of Israel faces danger and travail. We trust, hope, and pray that this danger is fleeting, and that Israel’s enemies come to their senses and realize that violence is never the pathway to peace. But it seems that Israel is alone in its suffering. The heart of Israel knows its own bitterness, but the rest of the world watches on with apathy and defends violence by creating moral equivalencies and media distortions of the facts on the ground. It is so important, especially today, to share in the burden of that pain, the pain of the millions of Jews in Israel. We share the pain of the death, damage, and trauma to our family in Eretz Israel. If we are to participate in the simcha of our brethren, we must also participate in their bitterness. If we wish to celebrate and be counted with the Jewish people in Eretz Israel, to receive the Torah with them, to enjoy the successes of the modern State of Israel, and eventually to see the rebuilding of our Temple and our Altar, we must first share in the sadness and trauma. We can do so even from afar, through our prayers and good deeds on behalf of our loved ones in Israel. As the Psalmist writes (126:5), “הַזֹּרְעִים בְּדִמְעָה בְּרִנָּה יִקְצֹרוּ:” – Those who plant with tears, will reap with joy. Not only did these twelve men merit to be part of the census and the Mishkan’s inaugural; they were also each identified by name TWICE in the Torah. This was a special gesture of appreciation shown to them for their valor and sacrifice on behalf of the rest of Klal Yisrael. When Mashiach comes, wouldn’t it be great if your name appears in the list of people who cared, prayed, and sacrificed for our brethren? We have that opportunity today and every day. Let’s make sure that our names are counted as well. Take this Shabbat and this Shavuot as a time not only of reaccepting the Torah, but also of reaccepting your brothers and sisters throughout the world. Let us stand “כאיש אחד בלב אחד” and feel for each other. May our efforts trigger the ultimate Redemption so that we can all return to Eretz Israel swiftly, bb”a.