Shelach 5772

And Moshe called Hoshea bin Nun, Yehoshua. (Bamidbar 13:16)

He prayed for him: Hashem (the added letter, “Yud”, hints to the Divine Name) should save you from the conspiracy of the spies. (Rashi)

This comment of Rashi is puzzling. Did Moshe realize in advance that the Meraglim would conspire to commit their sin? Why didn’t Moshe pray for them that they should resist temptation? Could Moshe have assumed that the Meraglim were beyond hope? But what about the righteous Kalev; why didn’t Moshe pray for him as well?

However, Kalev did pray for himself. On the verse (13:22), “And they rose up through the south and he came to Chevron,” Rashi notes the inconsistency in number (they/he) and explains that although all the Meraglim traveled through the south, only Kalev went to Chevron in order to pray at the graves of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov that he not be seduced to join the conspiracy of the Meraglim. (It is interesting to note that in Maseches Sotah (34b), the Gemara states that Kalev himself noticed that Moshe prayed for Yehoshua and not for him.)

Another interesting point: In Rashi’s explanations, there is a subtle difference between Moshe’s prayer for Yehoshua and Kalev’s prayer for himself. Moshe prayed that Yehoshua be saved from the Meraglim; Kalev prayed that he not be seduced by them. How do we account for this? (Again, it is worth noting that in the Gemarah Sotah this distinction is not made; it appears to be an original insight of Rashi.)

As the story unfolds, we see that there is a very interesting aspect to the nature of Kalev. When the Meraglim present their report that Eretz Yisrael is unconquerable, only Kalev stands in opposition. Rashi (13:30) implies that Kalev was only able to do so because until the very last moment the other Meraglim assumed that he would confirm their report. Later, Rashi is more explicit in his commentary. On the verse (14:24) which states that “Kalav had a different spirit,” Rashi comments that his initial words were different than his thoughts; to the Meraglim he said that he was with them but in his heart his intention was to undermine them.

The Noam Elimelech writes that Yehoshua was very different. He was transparent. Everyone knew where he stood, because he was the type of Tzaddik who felt he could not even mingle, let alone appear to join, the wicked. Kalev, on the other hand, could get along with everybody. Everyone therefore assumed that he was on their side. This made it possible for Kalev to protest the report of the Meraglim; Yehoshua would not have been able to speak at all. The Meraglim would have shouted him down.

It would therefore appear that Yehoshua and Kalev were in different types of danger. There was no danger that that the Meraglim would try to seduce Yehoshua; he was clearly antagonistic to everything they stood for. The danger was that the Meraglim might try to injure him or even kill him to advance their scheme unopposed. Thus Moshe prayed that he be saved from them. Kalev, on the other hand, was not in any physical danger – the Meraglim assumed that he was one of them! The risk was that, because of his relationship with them, he could be seduced to see things their way. Thus when Kalev prayed for himself his request was that he not be seduced.

Perhaps this can also account for the fact that Moshe prayed for Yehoshua but Kalev had to pray for himself. Whether one can pray for Divine assistance in making proper life choices is a difficult question. As a rule, we know that Hashem does not interfere with the free will of human beings and consequently, it may be inappropriate to ask Him to do so. (See Rambam Hilchos Teshuvah Chapter 6 for an extensive discussion of this subject.) Maharsha (Berachos 10a) makes a distinction between a person who prays for himself and a person who prays for others. When a person prays for himself, that is an exercise of his capacity to make free decisions, and therefore the prayer is legitimate; when a person prays for others, that is tantamount to asking Hashem to “brainwash” another person and therefore unacceptable.

Consequently, Moshe could pray for Yehoshua. He was in physical danger and to pray that he be spared is certainly proper. Kalev was at risk of making a bad decision. For that, he had to pray for himself. No other person could pray for him.

It is interesting to note that ultimately it was Yehushua, and not Kalev, who became the successor of Moshe. Undoubtedly, there were many considerations in this selection which, of course, was made by Hashem himself. But in light of the above discussion, we may suggest an additional one: It is an important quality in a Jewish leader to be clear as to where he stands. Equivocation, or even the public perception of equivocation, compromises the ability of the leader to truly lead. Because everyone could know where Yehosua – as opposed to Kalev – stood, he was the one who received the Divine endorsement.

Beha'alosecha 5772

Parshas Beha’alosecha is a turning point both in the Book of Bamidbar and in the history of our people. The triumphant march to the Land of Israel begins on the twentieth of Iyar – thirteen months after the exodus from Egypt – but within days there is a shift in the mood of the people. Grumbling and complaints bring Divine wrath and dire consequences and ultimately the unique status of Moshe is challenged by a member of his own family. Against this background of discontent and skepticism, the tragic episode of the spies’ mission takes place – as related in next week’s Parsha – and the Children of Israel are condemned to decades of wandering in the desert. These stories describe a slippery slope in which one catastrophe leads to the next; once the chain reaction begins, the disastrous consequences seem inevitable.

The first episode in this series (Bamidbar 11:1-3) is that of the Misonenim. The Hebrew word Onen connotes a person who has suffered a genuine loss; usually the term is applied to one who has suffered the loss of a close relative. A Misonen, however, is a person who has somehow turned himself into an Onen, perhaps by mentally inflating a slight inconvenience into a massive ordeal. In this instance, Rashi explains that they were complaining about the exertion of travel. Keeping in mind that the Jews had been encamped at Sinai for almost a year, we can perhaps sympathize with their finding travel difficult. But apparently they had gone too far and a Divine fire began to consume those at the edge of the camp; only the prayers of Moshe brought relief. In any case, this complaint – despite its being apparently illegitimate – was at least timely; the objection to travel came just as the travel from Sinai began.

In the second episode we have the Asafsuf, who are identified with the Erev Rav – the large number of Egyptian converts who joined the Jews at the exodus – complaining about the Manna. The timing of this complaint is baffling. The Jews had been eating the Manna daily for over a year. Why does the Asafsuf wake up just now? Furthermore, the fact that there is no separation between the two stories in the Sefer Torah seems to indicate a connection between them. Yet, at first glance, that connection is not apparent.

Who were the Misonenim? The simple meaning of the text implies that they were native-born Jews; the Erev Rav is only introduced in the subsequent episode. (Rashi cites two possibilities on this issue.) If this assumption is correct, we can offer a conjecture that will address the problems we raised.

In last week’s Parsha (Bamidbar 5:5-8), we read the law of Gezel HaGer, theft from a convert to Judaism, which raises the intriguing question of how to make restitution in the case where the convert died and left no heirs. (Every native-born Jew would have an heir; any descendent of Avraham Aveinu is distant cousin!) Sforno writes in his commentary that Gezel HaGer is fundamentally worse than theft from a native-born Jew as it disillusions the idealistic convert who has come to take refuge under the wings of the Divine Presence.

We intuitively sense that this observation is correct. Those who have a long association with Judaism and the Jewish community – and are conscious of their own shortcomings – tend to react to others’ offenses with pity and understanding; certainly they are not led to question the validity of the entire Torah system. For the convert this may be very different. If his initial attraction to Judaism is rooted in an overly romanticized view of the Jewish community in which everyone is virtuous and saintly, becoming the victim of a Jewish thief can be a devastating experience.

Whatever troubled the Erev Rav about the Manna should have been apparent months earlier, yet they did not protest for a year. Perhaps they felt that the advantages of joining the Jewish nation more then compensated for the dietary deficiencies. It was axiomatic that truly spiritual people would not be obsessed with their creature comforts and undoubtedly their Jewish role models would not complain about such things. When the Misonenim began to grumble, the Erev Rav’s idealism was shattered. If these native-born Jews don’t feel that being G-d’s chosen people justifies sacrifice, why should we?

The lesson for us is self-evident. On a daily basis we encounter people who could be encouraged to embrace Torah values and lifestyle. The impression we make on that person is of supreme importance. If we convey an impression of happiness and contentedness, he may consider making changes in his own life. Who doesn’t want to be happy and content? But if we convey an impression of being stressed and tormented in our religious lives, that our Torah study and Mitzvah observance give us no satisfaction, we would then be walking advertisements for the secular life.

Naso 5772

It is a well-known fact that Naso is the longest Parsha in the Torah with 176 verses.  (Interestingly, it is not the most difficult to prepare. As the reading contains twelve repetitions of the five-verse section which describes the offerings of the Princes, a substantial portion of the Parsha can be mastered in minutes!) .We also find this number as the number of pages in the longest tractate in Babylonian Talmud, Bava Basra.  Likewise, the longest psalm in Tehillim is Chapter 119 which has – you guessed it – 176 verses.

What is the significance of the number 176? 

It represents the combination of two key numbers since it is the product of 22 times 8.  The number 22 represents the letters of the entire Hebrew alphabet and as such signifies a body of material that is all encompassing in its length and breadth. 

Maharal explains that the number 6 represents the physical world as it corresponds to the six directions – up, down, right, left, forward and back – in which a person can travel from a point in physical space. The number 7 is symbolic of the spiritual core of the physical world which gives it coherence and meaning. Thus, we have the six weekdays devoted to physical labor and the seventh – Shabbos – which gives them their ultimate spiritual dimension.

The number 8, being one higher than seven, rises beyond the material world and symbolizes the supernatural.  Bris Milah, for example, is performed on the eighth day as it is the supernatural perfection of the body; Chanukah is celebrated for eight days as it commemorates a supernatural miracle of the oil lasting much longer than the laws of chemistry and physics would have allowed for.

This is also alluded to in Az Yashir, the song of Moshe and the Jewish people at the Red Sea. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 91b) comments that the use of the future tense (Yashir) alludes to the future resurrection when Moshe will rise from the dead and perform the song again. Of course, resurrection is the most supernatural event that can be imagined and it has a connection to the very word Az whose numerical value is 8.

So the formula of the number 22 – the vastness and completeness of torah – times the number 8 – the supernatural – comes together to create the infinite depth of the number 176.  On the Shabbos after Shavuos, having committed ourselves again to lives of Torah study and observance, we are given this particular portion of the Torah.  We know that Psalm 119 is Dovid HaMelech’s love song for the Torah in which he declares his total devotion to it. So too does this number find its way into the Oral Law. Although the pagination of the Talmud is a human creation, we know that nothing is by coincidence alone. The fact that the largest tractate has this same number of pages reflects upon the breadth and depth of the Talmud and the Oral Law generally.