By Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D.
EL CAJON, California — In the words of Yerachmiel Begun of the Miami Boys Choir: “Together we dance, together we sing, throughout the world how our Achdus does ring.”
When you walk into a synagogue what do you feel? This week’s double reading, Matot and Massei, on the Shabbat just a couple of days leading up to the auspicious month of Av, offers us some insight into this question.
When I enter a synagogue, I seek to feel an authentic connection, a well-anchored link and emotional stir to my spiritual and religious heritage and ancestry, as well as a sense of harmony, reception and attachment. A home in which, regardless of how one gets there, unrelated to what kosher symbol one adheres to or rejects, notwithstanding what one wears, joy and sorrow are amiably shared in a genuine, heartfelt way.
Isn’t this what our ancestors were seeking for 40 years while wandering in the wilderness and as they stood at the shores of the River Jordan? As we recite the phrase, Chazak, chazak, v’nitchazeik, “Be strong, be strong, and let us strengthen one another,” our custom when we complete reading a Book of Torah, in this case the book of B’midbar, it’s clear that the Israelites were searching for a similar home. A home in which we strengthen one another.
Oh, sure we can discuss vows, the Midianite wars, the laws of inheritance, cities of refuge that are described in this week’s readings. But there is something particularly important these parashiot speak to in our current times, that is, just what is our place of refuge, our promised land, our synagogue?
Do we make room for the well-meaning yet “different,” tribes of Reuben and Gad in our synagogues today? Recall that Reuben and Gad thought differently from Moses, asking for permission to settle on the east bank of the Jordan instead of going along with the rest of the Israelites entering Israel. And what was Moses’ response? “Moses said to the descendants of Gad and Reuben, ‘Shall your brethren go to war while you stay here?’” And later Moses calls them a breed of sinners, “And behold, you have now risen in place of your fathers as a society of sinful people, to add to the wrathful anger of the Lord against Israel.”
But these tribes, as Nachmanides and Abravenel teach, did not want to separate themselves as others pointed fingers and claimed. Indeed, they promised to serve as troops in the front of the attack and shared in the risks and dangers that all others in the battle shared. They were accepted into the fabric of the community, and permitted to settle on the east bank, outside of Israel. Moses found a way to be inclusive, convivial, amenable and receptive. Do we?
We stand as a testament to “unity in diversity.” Forged in the crucible of history, we have been welded into a single, indomitable nation – Am Yisrael Chai. Yet within our mighty family beats the heart of diversity: twelve distinct tribes, each a pillar of strength, each with its own rich tradition. These different cultures, woven together, creates not a monolith, but a vibrant, multifaceted society. We are not a uniform entity, but a symphony of voices, a rich mosaic of traditions, united in purpose while honoring our unique identities. It is this very diversity with unity that gives Israel its resilience, its depth, and its enduring power.
Are the doors of our synagogues honestly and completely wide open, inclusively and warmly, genuinely accepting all on equal footing, even modern day “Reubens and Gads”? After all, who is perfect? Are we missing parts of our community today, indeed are we turning away members of our community, explicitly or implicitly, from our synagogues? Are our leaders learning from Matot – Massei and focused on how to connect the disconnected, to become more embracing, more openhearted, and more unifying? We can become more like Moses and ultimately have unconditional acceptance for others, or more like the those who hold negative judgment in their hearts. The choice is ours. The future of our synagogues is in our hands and in our hearts. The lyrics of Yehuda’s “Kol Yisroel Chaverim” speak to the lesson in this week’s parshiot: “We will always be together…We’re all one family…Kol Yisroel Chaverim.”
This sense of unity amongst us can be improved. That seems to be another message in this week’s readings. Since being driven out of the Garden of Eden we’ve made many stops along the way to find our home. The Baal Shem Tov, who founded Chasidism, teaches that the 42 stops we read about this week, are a metaphor for the stops, the essential stops, each of us take throughout our lives. Some of our stops may seem more like stumbling blocks than steps forward, but this teaches us that even stumbling blocks may be required by Hashem for us to move forward and grow spiritually, which we all eventually do with our eyes and hearts wide open. The Baal Shem Tov is pointing out that to get to the other side of the Midbar, the wilderness, Hashem knows we may need a stop that feels like painful sandpaper…meant to smooth us out and help us grow, refine, and renew.
I was struck by the rulings of the Rambam and the Shulchan Aruch about this comprehensive list of stops along the way in the desert. The Shulchan Aruch rules that number of lines in a Torah scroll should be 42, equal to the number these stops. In contrast, the Rambam rules that each parchment should be no less than 48 lines, since he views that the Torah should include the 42 stops but also the six times they retreated along the way and reexamined the errors they made at those revisited stops. Perhaps that’s a valued lesson on life…we move forward but we may need to step back and reevaluate our blunders. And isn’t this a time to begin thinking about our vows and oaths to live better?
We are taught that the number 42 also represents one of the names of Hashem, which reveals itself in each of us since we are made in the image of Hashem. These 42 stops have profound multilayered meaning. It begins with the Exodus from Mitzraim and climaxes with Yardain Yereacho. The first suggests leaving all boundaries, Mitzraim, moving daily beyond previous spiritual limitations. The last stop suggests the revealing of Moshiach. Yarden from Tehilim 72:8 where we read, “He will rule (Yared) from sea to sea,” and Yereacho because he will judge by his sense of smell (Reach Vadiin). Bringing Moshiach will bring a genuine leader and judge to improve our world. It is up to us to fulfill the words of the Tanya which teaches that our lives begin with an oath to “Be a Tzadik and not a Rasha,” and with this oath to complete the 42 stops along the way to bring Moshiach.
You know how in Hebrew, “Matos” means these tough, sturdy rods? And “Massei” is all about journeys? Well, it’s talking about those 42 trips the Israelites took through the Sinai Desert on their way to the Promised Land. Life’s kind of like that, you know? It’s this big journey – or really, a bunch of little journeys – all heading towards our own personal Promised Land. The Baal Shem Tov even said each of us goes through 42 journeys in our lives.
Getting to our Promised Land is not always a walk in the park. History’s shown us that time and time again. That’s where the “Matos” comes in handy during our “Massei.” We need that rock-solid strength, that deep-down faith that keeps us pushing forward, no matter what tries to knock us down.
Just as the cities of refuge described in the Torah provided a haven for reflection and growth, we too would be wise to cultivate a similar space within our minds. This healthy inner sanctuary would serve as a buffer against relentless self-criticism, allowing us to forgive ourselves for our accidental missteps and use these experiences as catalysts for personal transformation.
Rav A.Y.H Kook, the first chief rabbi of Israel explains the Talmudic adage “Scholars increase peace in the world”: “True peace cannot enter the world without there being many different expressions leading to peace, all sides and all views… a multiplicity of ideas which emanates from different minds and different educational traditions is what enriches and spreads wisdom and establishes a true building of peace.”
In short, the journey toward forgiveness and compassion is a personal one that opens the path to creating greater unity amongst others. By creating a healthy inner sanctuary, we can protect ourselves from self-criticism, embrace our imperfections, and ultimately build a healthier, more compassionate relationship with ourselves…and with others, needed now, it seems, more than ever.
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Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D., prepares a weekly D’var Torah for Young Israel of San Diego, where he and his family are members. They are also active members of Congregation Adat Yeshurun. He may be contacted via michael.mantell@sdjewishworld.com