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PARASHAT BEHA'ALOTEKHA

By Rav David Silverberg

            The final section of Parashat Beha'alotekha tells the story of Miriam and Aharon's disparaging remarks about their brother, Moshe, and God's angry response.  God rhetorically asks the two siblings, "How were you not fearful to speak against My servant, Moshe?" (12:8).  Rashi explains this response to mean that Miriam and Aharon erred in two ways: they spoke disparagingly about "My servant," and they spoke disparagingly about "Moshe."  Moshe deserved respect because of his objective qualities and credentials, as well as due to his stature as the Almighty's "servant."

            Rav Barukh Yitzchak Yissakhar Leventhal, in his Birkat Yitzchak (Jerusalem, 1946) explains that Miriam and Aharon's questioning of Moshe's decisions threatened to undermine Moshe's two basic roles as leader of Benei Yisrael at this time: his role as "Moshe," and his role as God's "servant."  The name "Moshe" was given to him by Pharaoh's daughter, who "drew him" from the water ("ki min ha-mayim meshitihu" – Shemot 2:10).  Moshe was blessed with the ability to "draw" people, to attract a following and earn their trust and respect – a quality alluded to by the name "Moshe."  His job was to guide, teach and instruct Benei Yisrael during this critical, formative period in the nation's development.  Aharon and Miriam's disparaging remarks about Moshe had the potential of undermining the influence he exerted upon the nation.  As the word spread about Moshe's siblings' reservations about his personal life, people would likely begin to question whether they should be entrusting him with the mantle of leadership.  Conceivably, this could spell the end of Moshe's role as the nation's teacher and guide.

            Moshe's second basic role was that of avdi, to serve as God's "servant."  For him to fulfill his role as conveyer of God's law, it had to be perfectly evident that all his instructions and decisions came directly from God, without any innovation on his part, just as a servant follows only his master's command.  If the people saw that Moshe acted on his own, and not in fulfillment of the divine command, they could no longer look to him as the authentic source of the transmission of God's law.  As Chazal explain, Miriam and Aharon questioned Moshe's decision to separate from his wife – something that God had specifically ordered him to do.  By accusing Moshe of undertaking this drastic measure of his own volition, Miriam and Aharon potentially undermined Moshe's role as God's servant, as the authentic communicator of the divine law.  God therefore reprimands Miriam and Aharon for their disrespectful attitude towards both "Moshe" and "My servant," for potentially impairing both his ability to lead and exert influence upon the nation, and to represent the accurate and authentic source of God's laws.

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            As we discussed yesterday, the closing section of Parashat Beha'alotekha tells of the infamous incident of Aharon and Miriam's disparaging remarks about Moshe.  Rashi (12:1), citing Chazal, explains that Aharon and Miriam questioned Moshe's decision to separate from his wife, Tzipora.  As Rashi mentions (in his commentary to 12:4), God had ordered Moshe to separate from Tzipora because he had to be prepared at every moment for prophetic revelation, which required a state of purity and spiritual focus.  Miriam and Aharon, however, were unaware of God's instruction to Moshe.  Miriam heard of Moshe's separation from his wife during the incident recorded earlier in the parasha (11:24-26), when Moshe conferred prophetic stature upon the seventy chosen elders whom he had assembled outside the Israelite camp for this purpose.  Two men, Eldad and Meidad, were not among these seventy men, but nevertheless began prophesying in the camp, in public view.  Miriam happened to be standing near Tzipora when Eldad and Meidad began prophesying, and she heard Tzipora lament the fate of their wives, from whom they would now have to separate due to their newly-gained prophetic stature, just as Moshe had separated from her.

            The question arises as to why Tzipora made this comment specifically upon witnessing the prophecy of Eldad and Meidad.  Surely she was aware that Moshe was in the process of conferring the status of prophet upon the seventy chosen elders.  Why did Tzipora not lament their wives' fate, as well?

            Rav Yitzchak Zev Diskin, in his Zivchei Tzedek (Jerusalem, 5760), explains that, as we mentioned earlier, Moshe was required to abstain from marital life because of the spontaneous nature of his prophecy.  Unlike other prophets, who experienced prophecy only after an extended process of preparation, Moshe could receive prophecy at any time, and he therefore had to retain a constant state of purity.  Tzipora surely understood that not all prophets were required to separate from their wives; this measure was required only of Moshe, to whom God would appear at any moment.  Therefore, she did not react when the seventy elders were granted the power of prophecy.  Eldad and Meidad, however, indeed prophesied "on the spur of the moment."  They had not assembled with the seventy elders in Moshe's tent outside the camp, preparing themselves for the experience of prophecy.  This was an exceptional occasion where two otherwise ordinary individuals were suddenly shown a prophetic vision.  Upon witnessing this spontaneous prophecy, Tzipora concluded that Eldad and Meidad were of equal stature to Moshe, and would therefore be required to separate from their wives, just as Moshe had to separate from his.

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            Over the last two days we have discussed a number of issues regarding the final verses of Parashat Beha'alotekha, which tells the story of Aharon and Miriam's disparaging remarks about their brother, Moshe.  Rashi (12:1) follows the explanation of the Midrash that Miriam and Aharon questioned Moshe's decision to separate from his wife, Tzipora, a drastic measure that was not demanded of any other prophet.  The Midrash, as Rashi cites, connects this incident with the previous narrative, which includes the unexpected prophecy of Eldad and Meidad, by claiming that it was as a result of Eldad and Meidad's prophecy that Miriam learned of Moshe's separation from Tzipora.  Miriam stood beside Tzipora when Eldad and Meidad spoke prophecy, and she heard Tzipora lament the fate of Eldad and Meidad's wives, whose husbands would likely separate from them just as Moshe had separated from her.

            It should be noted that Miriam's complaints about her brother perhaps relate to the previous narrative not merely in terms of the progression of plot, but also in terms of theme and substance.  The story of Eldad and Meidad is but one subsection of the broader narrative of Kivrot Ha-ta'ava, which tells of Benei Yisrael's demand for meat and complaints about the manna.  Moshe responds to the people's grumbling by crying to God about his inability to lead the nation, and God then instructs him to assign seventy elders to assist him in shouldering the burden of leadership.  It was during the formal conferral of prophecy upon the seventy elders that Eldad and Meidad suddenly received prophecy, as well.

            This entire narrative unfolds as Benei Yisrael take leave of Mt. Sinai for the first time after their arrival there to receive the Torah, nearly a year earlier.  This is where they beheld God's Revelation, received the Torah, and constructed the Mishkan.  This past year had been a period of unparalleled spiritual intensity, and it seems that the rapid deterioration that occurs shortly after Benei Yisrael's departure from Sinai reflects a desire to relieve the spiritual tension that had characterized their experience at the mountain.  Benei Yisrael's now wanted to live more at ease, to relax, to enjoy and to indulge.  This is reflected in Chazal's famous comment concerning the verse that describes the departure from Sinai – "They journeyed from the Mountain of the Lord" (10:33) – comparing Benei Yisrael to schoolchildren happily "fleeing" from school at the end of the day.  The did not want to be burdened any further by demanding mitzvot or the strict lifestyle to which they had been subjected all these months, and they therefore "fled" Mount Sinai looking forward once and for all to some comfort and luxury.  It was in response to this yearning for "spiritual relaxation" that Moshe felt he could no longer shoulder the burden of leadership.  So long as the people searched for meaning, direction and guidance, he felt capable of answering this need.  But once their primary interest and concern was for exotic foods and delicacies, Moshe felt helpless in tending to them.

            Miriam and Aharon's questioning of Moshe's separation from Tzipora perhaps reflected a similar attitude.  Moshe's siblings saw this as an unreasonably and unnecessarily drastic measure to undertake.  They saw no reason why Moshe's leadership role would require this kind of ascetic approach.  Miriam and Aharon, too – albeit to a lesser extent than the sinners of Kivrot Ha-ta'ava – perhaps saw a need to ease the spiritual tension of the experience at Sinai.  Moshe's separation from Tzipora, they perhaps felt, may have been reasonable during Benei Yisrael's encampment at "the Mountain of the Lord," but not once they embarked to establish themselves as a nation in Eretz Yisrael.  Now was the time to begin releasing the tension, so-to-speak, and to return to a more "normal" mode of existence.

            Their mistake, of course, was that God had specifically ordered Moshe to separate from his wife because he must be prepared at all times for prophetic revelation.  For him to continue his role as the conveyor of the divine word, he must, indeed, undertake this drastic measure.  Moshe's responsibility did not end with the nation's disembarkation from Sinai; he was still required to hear God's instructions and bring them to the people, to prepare them for their mission of establishing a special nation in their special land.

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            In the middle of Parashat Beha'alotekha we read of Benei Yisrael's departure from Mount Sinai, and the Torah records at this point the texts of Moshe's declarations when the aron would disembark and when it would come to a rest ("Va-yehi bi-neso'a ha-aron… U-ve-neucho yomar… " – 10:35-36).  This pair of verses is famously surrounded by two unusual symbols shaped like an inverted letter nun.  According to one view mentioned in the Talmud (Masekhet Shabbat 115b-116a), these symbols serve as indicators to the effect that this pair of verses appears out of chronological sequence.  This view claims that these verses naturally belong in an earlier section of Sefer Bamibdar, where the Torah tells of the preparations of the Israelite camp for travel; that is the appropriate context for the account of what Moshe recited as the ark rose for travel and when it encamped.  Why, then, did the Torah "transplant" these verses into this context?  The Gemara explains, "To interrupt between one catastrophe and the next."  Just prior to this pair of verses, the Torah tells of Benei Yisrael's departure from Mount Sinai, which is evidently perceived as a "catastrophe."  Most views (see Tosefot there in Masekhet Shabbat, and Ramban in his commentary here in Parashat Beha'alotekha) explain the Gemara's intent on the basis of the famous Midrashic passage (in Midrash Yelamdenu) likening Benei Yisrael's departure from Sinai to a child's "escape" from school at the end of the day.  After having received so many mitzvot during their nearly yearlong stay at Sinai, they felt relieved to leave that site and move on.  The verses of Va-yehi bi-neso'a and U-ve-nucho yomar serve to "interrupt" between that catastrophe and the subsequent narrative, which tells of the mit'onenim – Benei Yisrael's complaints during travel and God's' harsh response.

            Why was it necessary to make an interruption between these two disasters?  What message did the Torah seek to convey by isolating each of the two catastrophes from one another?

            Rav Shimon Schwab, in his Ma'ayan Beit Ha-sho'eiva, suggests that the Torah separated between the two accounts for the purpose of highlighting the inherent gravity of each disaster.  These two pur'anuyot (catastrophes) are of two very different natures.  The disaster of va-yis'u mei-har Hashem ("They journeyed from the mountain of the Lord") was one of spiritual failure, whereas the second disaster – the fire that ravaged through the camp in response to the mit'onenim – was an actual "catastrophe" in the more conventional sense, in that it resulted in the tragic loss of life.  Rav Schwab suggested that by isolating the disaster of va-yis'u mei-har Hashem from the ensuing narrative, the Torah underscores the fact that this incident itself – even disregarding its consequences – should be perceived as a terrible disaster.  The Torah sought to emphasize that not only was the fire of the mit'onenim a terrible catastrophe, but also the nature of Benei Yisrael's departure from Sinai, their joy and relief upon taking leave of "the mountain of the Lord," deserves to be categorized as such.  Spiritual failure itself earns the title "disaster," irrespective of its harsh consequences.

            The Rebbe of Kotzk famously quipped that the term yir'at chet (fear of sin) refers not to the fear of the punishment for sin, but rather fear of sin itself.  A spiritual failure should be seen as inherently disastrous, even disregarding any consequent punishment, and one must therefore endeavor to avoid wrongdoing not merely out of fear of retribution, but out of a sense of "fear" of the wrongdoing itself.

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            We read in Parashat Beha'alotekha that before Benei Yisrael's departure from Mount Sinai, Moshe asked his father-in-law, Yitro (who here is called "Chovav"), to join the nation along their journey to Eretz Yisrael.  In his attempt to persuade his father-in-law to accept the offer, Moshe promises, "and that goodness that the Lord will bestow upon us – we shall then bestow upon you" (10:32).  Rashi, based on the Sifrei, explains this as a reference to the territory of the city of Yericho, the first Canaanite city captured by Benei Yisrael upon their entry into the Land.  Benei Yisrael destroyed the city entirely, as God had commanded, and its territory was not distributed to any of the twelve tribes.  Instead, the people decided that whichever tribe would be chosen for the eventual site of the Beit Ha-mikdash, and would thus lose that area from its developable territory, would be compensated by receiving the territory of Yericho.  In the meantime, the area of Yericho was given to Yitro's descendants, who lived in the city until the Temple was erected in the territory of the tribe of Binyamin, who then established their claim to the area of Yericho.  Rashi notes that a verse in Sefer Shoftim (1:16) makes reference to Yitro's descendants residing in "the city of palms" (ir ha-temarim), a secondary name of Yericho (see Devarim 34:3, Divrei Hayamim II 28:15).  It is thus to this area that Moshe refers when he promises Yitro to "bestow goodness" upon him in the Land of Israel.

            The obvious question arises as to how Yitro's descendants were permitted to reside in Yericho after Yehoshua's famous declaration condemning anybody who would build the city's ruins (Yehoshua 6:26).  Indeed, we read in Sefer Melakhim I (16:34) that a man named Chiel of Beit-El rebuilt the city of Yericho and saw the fulfillment of Yehoshua's curse with the death of all his sons.  How, then, could Benei Yisrael have allowed Yitro's descendants to settle in Yericho?

            Rav David Mandelbaum, in his Pardes Yosef He-chadash (Beha'alotekha, 165), cites several possible explanations from earlier sources.  He first cites a responsum of Rabbi Chayim Elazar Waks, who raised the possibility that Yehoshua's curse referred only to the reconstruction of the entire city; he never intended to forbid the construction of several houses within the territory of Yericho.  He also suggests that Yitro's descendants perhaps resided only in tents, and did not construct any homes at all.  Rav Mandelbaum cites other sources stating that Yehoshua forbade only constructing a wall surrounding the city; simply building homes within the area of the city was permissible.

            Finally, several scholars, including Rav Chayim Berlin, explained based on a comment in the Yerushalmi (end of Sanhedrin) that once the city of Yericho was rebuilt, Yehoshua's prohibition no longer applied, even after it was again destroyed.  Conceivably, other peoples may have rebuilt Yericho after Yehoshua proclaimed his curse, and at that point Yitro's descendants were no longer barred from residing there and developing the city further.  Of course, this theory gives rise to the question of why Chiel of Beit-El was punished for rebuilding the city (which occurred many centuries later, during the time of Achav), if the prohibition had already been lifted.  Rav Chayim Berlin answers based on the implication of the Gemara in Masekhet Sanhedrin (113a) that Chiel did not rebuild Yericho, but rather built another city and named it "Yericho."  Yehoshua forbade not merely rebuilding Yericho, but also building another city and giving it this name.  After the original city of Yericho was rebuilt, the prohibition against further development of the city no longer applied, but the second prohibition, against naming a city "Yericho," remained in force.  Chiel was thus punished not for rebuilding the original city of Yericho – which was already permissible by that point – but for applying the name "Yericho" to a different city that he had built.

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            Parashat Behaalotekha describes the procedure for Benei Yisrael's disembarkation and encampment during their sojourn in the wilderness, a procedure that was dictated exclusively by God.  The Torah tells that Benei Yisrael would disembark when the cloud covering the Mishkan would rise, and they would encamp at the site where the cloud would descend (9:17).  The Torah concludes this section with the famous verse, "According to the Lord would they encamp, and according to the Lord would they journey" (9:23).

            The Gemara in Masekhet Eruvin (55b) cites this text amidst a discussion concerning the laws of techum Shabbat.  Halakha forbids walking on Shabbat beyond a distance of two thousand amot (cubits) from the boundary of one's town.  The Gemara cites the ruling of Rav Huna that people who dwell in tzerifim – makeshift, temporary residences – count the two thousand amot from the entrance of their residence, and not from the boundary of the "town."  Even if many people live in tzerifim together as a community, the temporary nature of this existence negates the possibility of considering this community a single "town."  As far as the halakha of techum Shabbat is considered, we must consider each person as dwelling alone, and therefore he is given only two thousand cubits from his residence, and not from the border of his tzerifim community.  Even if the tzerifim span a distance of many thousands of amot, one would be allowed to walk only two thousand amot from his personal dwelling.

            The Gemara then attempts challenging this ruling from the fact that during Benei Yisrael's sojourn in the wilderness, they were allowed to walk on Shabbat throughout the entire camp, which covered an area larger than two thousand amot.  Although they lived in unstable, temporary residences, the camp was seen as a single residential entity for the purpose of techum Shabbat, as if they lived in permanent structures.  Rava dismissed this question by commenting, "Since it is written regarding them, 'According to the Lord would they encamp, and according to the Lord would they journey,' they were considered as if they established permanent residence."  When Benei Yisrael encamped in a given location, they knew they would remain there until God instructed them to disembark.  Since they never knew for how long they would remain at that site, their residence there assumed a certain quality of stability and permanence, and so their temporary dwelling became, in halakhic terms, a permanent residence.

            Rav Eliyahu Baruch Shulman of Yeshiva University (www.yutorah.org/showShiur.cfm?shiurID=706595) noted that this exchange, though occurring in a purely halakhic context, has broader implications concerning a Jew's relationship to Torah.  At first glance, it would appear that there could be no greater sense of instability than that which Benei Yisrael experienced during their sojourn in the wilderness.  They would awaken each morning without knowing whether they would be gone that very day, or whether they would remain in that location for another thirty years.  What more, they exerted no control whatsoever over this decision; their travel schedule was determined exclusively by the Almighty.  We would certainly expect people under such conditions to experience a continuous sense of instability and transience, to never feel settled or rooted.

            Rava teaches us that to the contrary, their complete dependence on God lent their encampment in the wilderness a sense of permanence and stability.  Rav Shulman explains:

In a deep sense, the Jews were not adrift at all, they were not even in motion.  To be in motion means to move from one place to another on the map; but the Jews mapped their existence not against the backdrop of the shifting sands of the desert, but against the focal point of the aron and the degalim [tribal banners].  And from that perspective…they were not in motion at all.  Each Jew was always at the same degel, at the same distance from the aron.  The aron was at the center of their existence, and so long as the aron moved with them, they were always at rest, and always at home.

By defining their "residence" not in terms of geographic location, but rather in terms of the Mishkan that stood at the center of the camp, Benei Yisrael always felt "at home," that they had a permanent residence.

            Rav Shulman extends this notion to the remarkable phenomenon of Jews who could experience a sense of belonging and rooted-ness even after crossing oceans and continents, and relocating in foreign and distant lands, among alien cultures and tongues.  Even after resettling in a distant country, the Jew managed to feel rooted and a sense of permanent residence through the common language of Torah that connects all Jews throughout the world.  A Jew who defines his existence based on his position vis-à-vis the "Mishkan," the Torah, can feel right at home in any geographic location, wherever he has the opportunity to live his life as Benei Yisrael did in the wilderness – in full compliance God's laws: "According to the Lord would they encamp, and according to the Lord would they journey."

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            We read in Parashat Beha'alotekha of the tragic story of the mit'onenim, those among Benei Yisrael who voiced complaints to Moshe as the nation embarked from Sinai towards the Land of Israel.  God punished the people with a heavenly fire that "consumed the edge of the camp" (11:1).  According to one view in the Sifrei, the fire affected specifically the geirim, the converts who had joined Benei Yisrael and traveled at the edge of the camp.

            The Meshekh Chokhma, commenting on this verse, suggests that this passage in the Sifrei may perhaps shed light on another Biblical narrative: Benei Yisrael's battle with Amalek.  Moshe, in describing Amalek's attack on Benei Yisrael, tells that Amalek waged war against "kol ha-necheshalim acharekha" – "all those who lagged behind you" (Devarim 25:18).  In light of the Sifrei's comment that the converts traveled at the edge of the Israelite camp, we might conclude that it was specifically against the converts that Amalek launched its attack.  If so, the Meshekh Chokhma adds, then we can explain a different Midrashic passage – the famous remark of the Mekhilta that Yitro made his decision to join Benei Yisrael specifically upon hearing of their war against Amalek.  What inspired Yitro to join Benei Yisrael, perhaps, was their loyalty and sense of responsibility towards the converts, as manifest in the war against Amalek.  When the converts came under attack at the edge of the camp, the nation immediately mobilized an army and came to their defense.  Benei Yisrael treated the converts as full-fledged citizens, as brothers, as any other members of the nation.  Yitro was moved by this concern for the converts, and as a result became interested in becoming one himself.

            This perspective on the battle against Amalek brings to mind a different war fought by Benei Yisrael, many years later, against the nation of Amon.  Shortly after Shaul's appointment as the first king of Benei Yisrael, Nachash, king of Amon, threatens the bordering region of Yaveish Gilad.  The Navi emphasizes that Shaul, upon hearing the news of the Amonite threat, responds with anger (Shemuel I 11:6).  He acts not only with conviction, but with rage, tearing apart a pair of cattle and sending the pieces throughout Israel, threatening to tear apart the cattle of whoever does not join the military effort against Amon.  Why did Shaul react with such fury, and why did he find it necessary to issue this threat against the people?

            The answer, perhaps, emerges from the response of the people of Yaveish Gilad to Nachash's threat.  Nachash mockingly offered a truce in exchange for the removal of the right eye of every resident of Yaveish Gilad, and the people replied, "Give us seven days so that we may send messengers throughout the territory of Israel, and if there is none to save us, we will come out to you [to surrender]" (Shemuel I 11:3).  Yaveish Gilad was a remote, peripheral, sparsely-populated area in the Trans-Jordanian region, situated near the border with Amon.  They understandably anticipated that the larger, "mainland" tribes would not respond to their cry for help.  Shaul's anger was perhaps ignited not by Nachash, but by the indifference of his own people to the plight of Yaveish Gilad, to the "edge of the camp."  Shaul succeeded in teaching the people that they are all responsible for every other member of the nation, regardless of class or social stature.  Benei Yisrael's uniqueness, as Yitro recognized, lay particularly in this quality, of loyalty and devotion to even the "lower" elements among the population.  Shaul therefore demanded that all the tribes contribute to the effort to save Yaveish Gilad, to demonstrate the responsibility they all bear towards even the most remote and peripheral Israelite communities.