Torah Links

Parsha Summary
by Rabbi Moshe Rockove

The Torah, in previous portions, discussed how to set up the Mishkan (Tabernacle) and how the Jews should camp around it. In this week’s portion, Beha’aloscha, the Torah turns its attention to describing how the Jews actually functioned as a nation in the desert. Aaron, the High Priest, is commanded to light the menorah, the seven-branched candelabra that stood in the Mishkan. This metaphorically represents the overall responsibility of the priests: To enlighten the Jews in the service of G-d by acting as teachers and role models. Moses is commanded to make two silver trumpets to be sounded when the Jews are about to travel, before battle, or to proclaim a holiday. G-d instructs the Jewish People to journey into the desert when the ever-present cloud of glory lifts from above the Tabernacle and to set up camp again wherever it rests. The people journey to the wilderness of Paran where they complain about the food in the desert. They do not appreciate the manna, the heavenly bread that appeared at the Jewish camp every morning. The Al-mighty then sends a massive quantity of quail for the Jewish People to eat, but those who had complained die without enjoying the newly acquired meat. Miriam, Moshe's older sister, makes a negative remark about Moshe. As a result of her lashon hora-- evil speech about one's fellow man--she is afflicted with tzora'as (leprosy) and is exiled from the camp for one week. The Jews wait for Miriam to heal before they continue to travel.

Imperfect Utopia
by Rabbi M. Rhine

Following the exodus from Egypt the Jews were provided for in the desert in a most remarkable way. Food was provided daily in the form of the Manna; drink was provided from a special fountain. Their clothes miraculously grew with them and were perpetually cleaned by the clouds of glory which surrounded them. On the spiritual front as well, there were plenty of mitzvah opportunities. The Jews lived in a virtual utopia. One would have expected that there would be no cause for complaint.

But complain they did.

The Torah tells us of a group who complained about a few select foods whose tastes were unavailable to them in the desert. Likewise we are told that there was a group who approached Moshe with the complaint that they were excluded from the mitzvah of the Korban Pesach. As part of the sacred burial society they were considered impure and were excluded from bringing the special Pesach sacrifice.

Why is it that even in a virtual utopia people find the need to complain? And how does the same environment produce two very different type of complainers: A group that complains about some missing gastronomical delights, in contrast to a group that complains that they were unfairly excluded from a beloved mitzvah?

Rabbi A. J. Twerski records an insightful story about a certain town in which a great Chasidic Master passed away and was buried in the local cemetery. Soon after the funeral a disagreement developed between the loyal servant of the Master and the local Rabbi. Each claimed that he was entitled to the one remaining burial plot next to the great Master. The disagreement brought out passions from many townspeople. Some argued that the town Rabbi was entitled to the distinction of being buried next to the great Master, while others argued that the loyal servant deserved to remain in close proximity of his illustrious mentor.

The question was posed to the Jewish court of a neighboring town.

The ruling was that whoever would die first would be entitled to the coveted burial spot.

As a result whenever the Master's servant would get sick, the town Rabbi would do whatever he could to make him well. He would have special prayers recited on is behalf, and would obtain the best medical care for him. Likewise, whenever the town Rabbi would get sick, the Master's servant would ensure that he got well quickly. The argument between them brought out the best in kindness and generosity for each other.

Rabbi Twerski concludes: It seems that jealousy is a fact of the human condition. The mark of greatness is to be jealous in a good and positive way.

I would suggest that the same is true of the tendency to notice that which is missing. Even in a virtual utopia there will be complainers. But depending on one's focus, those complaints and cravings can either be the source of blessing, or the cause of destruction.

For people who craved additional mitzvos, the complaints resulted in the giving of an additional mitzvah, a second chance to observe the Korban Pesach. But for those who craved and complained about a few missing tastes despite all of G-d's blessing, the result of G-d's great displeasure and disappointment with their complaints, was punishment.

It is widely understood that the blessings of life are intended as a test. Whether a person is wealthy, smart, or strong, the test of life is to see how he will handle the blessings. What this week's Torah portion introduces is that the need to crave is also a test. No matter how perfect things are there will always be imperfections. The test of life is to choose from among that which is missing, and decide what it is that is worth craving.

Picture for a moment a young couple taking a tour of a home that they are considering to buy. As they tour the house they count the bedrooms and bathrooms, analyze the dining room, and critique the kitchen. Undoubtedly there will be flaws. But, for a young Jewish couple, the areas of true concern are fairly predictable. "Does the yard have a place for a succah?" "How far away is the local shul or yeshiva?"

All of life, even "utopia", has flaws. This is G-d's way of testing us to see our values. What is it that we will notice? What is it that gives us cause for complaint?

It is said that a great Jew who lived in Jerusalem in the early 1900s fell deathly ill. The attending doctor identified a serious infection which he claimed originated in the patient's teeth. As part of the treatment he directed that all of the teeth be pulled from the then unconscious patient. Miraculously, the treatment succeeded, and when this great man regained consciousness and realized that his teeth were gone, he cried out, "But, if so, how will I chew the matzoh at the pesach seder?"

The fact is that even utopia has imperfections. But which imperfections bother a person is an indicator of their degree of personal greatness.

As such, when we notice an imperfection in our lives we might remind ourselves that the word "imperfect" can remind us, "I am perfect," meaning, "The situation that I find myself in is the perfect one, tailor made, for me."

With best wishes for a wonderful Shabbos!

Rabbi Mordechai Rhine
www.teach613.org