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JULY 8, 2021 | The Jewish Home The Jewish Home | OCTOBER 29, 2015
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From the Fire Parshas Maasei
Jewish Warrior, King of Opposites By Rav Moshe Weinberger Adapted for publication by Binyomin Wolf
T
he Degel Machaneh Ephraim, zy”a, teaches, in the name of his grandfather the Baal Shem Tov, zy”a, that the forty-two journeys of the Jewish people in the desert correspond to the journeys each individual takes in his life. When a person leaves the womb, this corresponds to when the Jewish people left Egypt. And when the Jewish people entered Eretz Yisroel, this corresponds to a person’s journey into the land of eternal life after 120 years in this world. How do we retain a sense of equanimity and centeredness when we must transition from one journey to another throughout our lives? Reb Leibele Eiger, zy”a, points out that the word “of them, bam, in the pasuk, “And you shall speak of them,” has the numerical value of forty-two. And the pasuk continues, “And you shall speak of them when you sit in your house and when you walk on the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up.” We must speak of them, words of Torah and emunah, wherever we go and wherever we travel. We can thrive through every test and trial we face if we hold onto truth and faith. If we remain certain in our purpose, then we will succeed despite all of the contradictions and challenges of a world in which many people seem to have taken leave of basic human decency and morality. But the Baal Shem Tov’s teaching about the 42 travels of the Jewish people does not only apply to people on an individual level. It also speaks to the travails of our nation as a whole as we journey on toward the times of Moshiach.
The Encampments – A Paradox of Opposites We know that the names of our stops during our journey in the desert (Bamidbar 33:5-49) have profound meaning. And as I read through the names of our encampments in the parsha with the upheaval in Eretz Yisroel in mind, I was struck by the contradictions implicit in those names and how they speak to the contradictions of life today, particularly in Eretz Yisroel. On one hand, it says we camped in Miska, from the Hebrew word meaning sweetness. Many aspects of our lives are sweet and we have much to be thankful for. But we also camped in Mara, meaning bitterness. Dozens of our brothers have been killed sanctifying G-d’s name and millions of our brothers, sisters, and friends in Eretz Yisroel are running for bomb shelters multiple times every day. Their lives
are in a state of upheaval and they experience bitterness day after day. The Jewish people camped in Har Shafer, meaning “beautiful mountain.” Sometimes are on top of the world. The view is stunning. But at other times, we camp in Tachas, meaning “low.” When we watch the parents, brothers, sisters, and wives of all of the soldiers killed protecting our people, we feel like we are living at the opening of Geihinom, at the lowest place. We camped at Refidim, which means weakness. Our Torah, mitzvos, and emunah suffer, and we often do not do what Hashem expects of us. But we also camped in Midbar Sinai, where we received the Torah, attaining the highest level of prophecy and connection to G-d’s will. Today, too, we have seen how even people with little outward connection to Torah and mitzvos have begun saying Tehillim, lighting Shab-
bos candles, putting on tefillin, and doing many other mitzvos and acts of kindness in order to merit the salvation of the Jewish people. At one point, the pasuk tells us we camped in Makheilos, meaning, “community” or “congregation.” We were united. And we see how, in the past few weeks, our people have been united more than any other time in the recent past. We are united in prayer and resolve, knowing that our cause is righteous. But at other times, we stop off in a place called Chatzeiros, meaning “courtyards.” Especially when we are not besieged from the outside, every Jewish group separates itself into its own courtyard and unfortunately barely views other Jews as part of the same people. We camped in Sukkos, a place named after temporary, rickety structures. With thousands of rockets falling all over Eretz Yisroel, with tunnels dug under our communities and neighborhoods, we feel vulnerable and frightened. We feel as if our entire existence is dependent on the protection of some flimsy walls and roof which the wind could blow away at any moment, leaving us completely exposed. But at other times, we feel we are camped in Eisam, meaning, strong. We feel grateful for how Hashem has blessed our people with the resolve, ingenuity, resources, and intelligence to build up one of the most powerful militaries in the world in just a short time. We sometimes feel we are encamped by the Red Sea, encircled on all sides by enemies and pushed up against the sea. We feel we have no escape. But
