מסעי 5769

בס"ד

* I did not write this Dvar Torah, a good friend of mine did. Enjoy!

*May this dvar Torah be a zechus for a refuah shleima of HaRav Yosef Shalom ben Chaya Musha, Elimelech Yerachmiel ben Matla, Chayim Dovid ben Leah, Luna bas Zamila, Akiva Shamai ben Ahava Rivka, Tzipora bas Daniella Miriam, Yaakov Zalman ben Rivka Faiga, HaTinok Eliezer ben Sarah, Tuvia Chaim ben Yocheved, Reuven ben Tova Chaya, Eliyahu ben Shoshana, Maryim bas Leiba, Yitzchok Simcha ben Gittle Leah, Dvir ben Leah, Nosson ben Sora, Yehonasan ben Malka, Gilad ben Aviva, Ruchama Aliza Sara Chana bas Esther Leiba, Leah bas Devorah, Bracha Chaya Miriam bas Hentsha Ralya, Menashe Koppel ben Naomi, Azriel Dovid ben Leah, Aharon ben Shulamis Serel, Chana Itzka bas Tova, and Shaindel Bayla bas Rochel, as well as the other cholim of klal Yisroel.*

As we reach the end of Sefer Bamidbar, the Torah takes a step back to recall the journeys that klal Yisrael have experienced over the past forty years in the desert.

Rashi (33:1) offers two different components that comprise the nature of these travels. His first encompasses the general theme. Though klal Yisrael appears to have journeyed quite a lot over thirty eight years of wandering, they in fact only made twenty stops the whole time—which calculates to roughly one stop every two years. Thus we learn that HaKadosh Boruch Hu, in His everlasting kindness, did not cause us to exert ourselves even when we had been decreed to drift about the desert.

Rashi’s second comment similarly captures Hashem’s love for us. He quotes a Midrash Tanchuma: This is similar to a king who had a son who was sick, and he took him to a distant land so that he could be healed. As they returned from the place of healing, the father began to count all of their journeys to his son: “Here we slept. Here we felt cold. Here you had a headache,” and so on. On a simple level, Rashi seems to be telling us that HaKadosh Boruch Hu loves us like a father loves his child, and that he is recounting the stories of our spiritual healing in the desert.

The Mayan Beis HaShoevah (by Rav Schwab zt”l) delves into the details presented in this anecdote by Rashi and the Midrash Tanchuma. Rav Schwab points out a seemingly obvious question: If the Torah were to truly use this portion to describe the travels of klal Yisrael, why would it skip major events such as krias (splitting of) Yam Suf, or the giving of Man, or Matan Torah, or the erection of the Mishkan? Furthermore, the pesukim seem to mention events that seem to be rather insignificant, such as the fact that the Miztrim were burying their dead or that Hashem did judgment with their gods, etc.

Rav Schwab points out that the Torah is not merely presenting a descriptive narrative of the events that befell klal Yisrael in their travels. Rather, the pesukim teach us that precisely at the places where we should have been awakened most, is when we were silent. When the Midrash says, “here we slept” (seeming to refer to the king and his son), we learn that we indeed did not awaken ourselves to recognize the nissim (miracles) of Hashem Yisborach. This refers to when we failed to recognize that the Mitzrim were burying their dead, when their usual practice was to embalm them. They had recognized that there was no real basis to their gods and therefore no longer acted upon their statutes. However klal Yisrael were “asleep” and did not see the miracle here. A short time later, “we felt cold,” or we felt ourselves become cold and lose our enthusiasm. Only a short three days after seeing the sea split, we had begun to complain about bitter waters. Later we complained about the mon as well. And finally, “here we had a headache,” when Aharon haKohen died and our leadership was removed from us.

A second glance at the Rashi, then, helps us understand that the pesukim are not merely entries in a travel log. Rather, they record all the moments that we should have paid more attention to our surroundings and to think about how those events should affect the way we improve our avodas Hashem.

The Netziv (as quoted by Rav Beinish Ginsburg in his shiur “Masei 1”) has another unique approach to our introductory pesukim. Within the first three pesukim of the parsha, the word “masei” is employed three times. Why is there such a repetition of the language? He explains there were three categories of journeying in the midbar. The first category is comprised of the travels from yetzias Mitzrayim to Kadesh Barnea, where the goal was to directly enter Eretz Yisrael (posuk 1, “eleh masei” these are their travels). However, once they sinned at Chet HaEgel, their goals were altered. Now, their purpose of traveling was to wander about the desert, without a clear destination (posuk 3, “motzaeihem l’masehem”—the “going forth” before the “traveling”). The third category consisted of their travels afterwards, that the purpose of their journeying was to once again heads towards Eretz Yisrael (posuk 3, “masehem,” their travels).

The saying goes that we are all travelers on the road of life. Assuming that most of us are relatively familiar with the road signs found in our respective countries, there have been many analogies given to how each symbolizes a particular method by which we can improve our spiritual growth.

As I personally drove down the street a few weeks ago, I came to an observation. As a relatively obedient driver, I braked my car to a complete halt, confirmed that the street was clear both ways from oncoming traffic, and kept going down the street. After stopping at a number of stop signs in successive order (which seemed to take longer than the driving itself), I reflected on the rule we all (hopefully) follow that we come to a complete stop before moving forward.

When we reach the stop signs in life, do we stop to look both ways for oncoming messages? Or do we lose patience at the sign, and struggle to continue going about our normal path?

We are nearing the final third of the period called “Bein HaMetzarim,” (Between the Straits), aka the “Three Weeks.” With the arrival of Shiva Asar B’Tammuz, we reach our first stop sign. “Caution,” it reads. “Falling rocks ahead.” This was when the walls to Yerushalayim had been breached, the holy Luchos thrown (or dropped) to the ground. The threat of impending destruction begins to impede on our lives, and we begin to adopt mild customs of mourning. No haircuts, no weddings, no music, no brachos of Shehechiyanu.

With the coming of the Nine Days, we reach a more urgent roadsign: “Yield to oncoming traffic. No turn on red.” Here we are no longer given the right of way, and we must be careful to heed the warnings that Chazal give us before we continue along our path. Do not go to court, do not wear fresh clothing, do not eat meat or drink wine.

Once Tisha B’Av arrives, we have reached the ultimate sign. “Stop,” in the big red hexagon. Nowhere else to go. You are officially stuck at a standstill until traffic dictates that you can proceed. Here we suspend all normal activity. No eating, no learning Torah (other than mournful passages), no washing. All regular functioning is halted.

The question becomes at which point do we read the signs and read their messages. Remember that the Mayan Beis HaShoevah notes that the pesukim in our parsha only talk about the smaller moments in klal Yisrael’s history—the ones that they should have noticed, and failed. Do we pay attention to the smaller messages in our own lives? Do we really stop at the “stop” signs, or do we simply touch the brake and then “roll” straight through?

According to our Netziv, had three types of travels. The first had definition, but it was short-lived. Klal Yisrael were planning to enter Eretz Yisrael, but the fact that the meraglim succeeded, indicates in hindsight that there must have been a fault in klal Yisrael that allowed them to succeed in the first place. The second type of traveling had no definition or clear purpose at all, and amounted to nothing more than wandering about aimlessly. The third type of traveling was defined more clearly than its counterparts, and enabled klal Yisrael to enter the land.

When we reach various roadpoints in life that caution us to halt for a moment and think of our lives, do we think of these types of traveling? Do we really have a purpose in what we’re doing, or does our purpose need some redefining? Are we heading towards our goals, or do we wander about in unimportant events and circumstances? Does our life have a clear destination?

As we enter the “Nine Days” that begin with Rosh Chodesh Av, let us stop and become aware of the roadsigns Hashem puts before all of us, in both our national and personal journeys.

May we all be zoche to perform the proper introspection, teshuvah, and tefillah necessary during this time, and with that be zoche to see the coming of Moshiach Tzidkeinu b’mheira b’yameinu Amen!

Good Shabbos and Chodesh Tov!