Mi Casa Es Su Casa?
Understanding the Gift of Bamidbar
After concluding Sefer Vayikra, we can look back and feel how it is packed with weight: korbanos, tumah and taharah, kedushah, and structure. It is the sefer of rules, boundaries, and order, where everything is defined and has its place.
Then, when we open Bamidbar it feels like the weight slips away.
The parsha is technical and feels like reading a census report, with a history lesson on the formation of the encampments in the desert. There are a lot of names, numbers, flags, and instructions, without any drama or added stories. It feels dry and distant, so if you search for something to grab onto, it will be hard to find.
A friend pointed out that this is the whole point. After all, they were in a desert and there there isn’t anything to hold onto there, except oneself.
The midbar is more than a location, it is a spiritual condition where everything is stripped down to its most basic form. It is a stage where all we have is Hashem and the possibility of something new.
The midbar is the starting point, where we come to realize how small we are, that we aren’t in control, and that everything meaningful begins with knowing our place, even when that place feels so irrelevant and minuscule.
The midbar is where we realize that Torah isn’t always outright sweet, inspirational, or enjoyable. It is gritty and real.
Many people feel this when they try to connect to Torah. They look at what is out there and feel overwhelmed. There is too much to know, too many seforim to read and too many people who seem to already be miles ahead.
However, Torah isn’t meant to be swallowed whole. It’s meant to be entered from the place our neshama naturally gravitates toward. We start with what speaks to us. We learn something that draws us in. Maybe we feel like we understand it, then we go deeper and realize we barely scratched the surface.
That is Torah.
I was speaking with a friend recently who expressed that learning Gemara doesn’t feel enjoyable and sometimes that makes him wonder if he is even cut out for it at all. I understood what he meant. There is a pressure today that learning has to feel good right away and it can be discouraging. But most real things take time to acquire properly.
We spoke about how important it is to reclaim the value of learning Gemara as something that is earned through effort. You break your head over it, you struggle and then you push through, so slowly, you start to uncover its sweetness.
Learning Torah is like learning an instrument. At first, it’s dry and mechanical. But if you stick with it, the sweetness comes. First, you push through and then, you start to hear the music.
The Torah is vast and endless. There isn’t one person who holds all of it. Yet, each person has a unique chelek. We aren’t expected to master everything. We are expected to find our doorway, our sugya, our spark. We begin with that point and grow from there.
Rav Moshe Dovid Vali writes that the leaders in Bamidbar weren’t chosen based on their popularity or wisdom. They were placed according to the root of their soul. This was their tafkid, their shevet and their role.1
The Saba of Kelm, Reb Simcha Zissel Ziv, explains that each person is like a gear in a vast machine. If you stop turning, the machine breaks down. Every role matters, even if it is quiet, even if it feels small.2
Parashas Bamidbar teaches that there is value in placement, even before there is movement. Before the Torah is given at Har Sinai, we are taught to stand in our place.
With this introduction, I would like to share a post you may have read already. It is always good to hear again, because some truths do not change. And sometimes, the way back to your place is by remembering where you started.
Where we all started.
One of the basic tenets of Western civilization is the idea that we should all strive to live with the ideal of “unity without uniformity and diversity without fragmentation.” I would like to explore this ideal from a Torah perspective.
The Parsha starts with Hashem instructing Moshe to take a census of Bnei Yisrael. On Rosh Chodesh Iyar, Moshe and the Nesi’im of each Shevet counted every male over the age of 20 according to their shevet. After the census was taken, Hashem further instructed Moshe regarding the formation of the encampment of the Jews around the Ohel Moed. The twelve Shevatim were divided into groups of three on each side of the Ohel Moed. Each Shevet encamped by their respective flag.
There was already a census in Sefer Shemos. What is different now, in our parsha, is that Gad is counted before Reuven and Shimon. It seems that the reason for this change in order is an introduction to Hashem’s instructions to Moshe regarding Klal Yisrael’s encampment formation with their flags. Therefore, they are counted in Parshas Bamidbar in the order of their encampment.
It seems a little odd that this formation of the encampments only happened after the second counting of Klal Yisrael and a full year after we left Egypt. Why were we not set up in proper formations as soon as we left Mitzrayim together with everything else that happened at that time?
HaRav Yaacov Kamenetzky Zt’l explains that in order for us to glean an understanding of the order of events, we first must fully understand what it is that we are talking about. What was the idea behind the formations and flags of the Shevatim?
Merriam Webster defines a flag as “a usually rectangular piece of fabric of distinctive design that is used as a symbol [as of a nation), as a signaling device, or as a decoration.” The flag is a symbol of independence and uniqueness. The symbols and colors on a flag represent the unique qualities of its bearer. Each of the flags of the Shevatim had it unique colors corresponding to the stones of the Choshen as well as its unique symbol, for example, Yehuda had an illustration of a lion on his flag; Reuven had an illustration of a person, Ephraim had an illustration of an ox. These colors and symbols of the flag signified the unique direction and way that they led their lives.
In general, it seems that this behavior would tend to cause people to become more distanced and divided from each other. However, each one of the Shevatim brought forward his unique strength to bring about k’vod Shamayim. This is similar to the ear which has a different function than the eye, there is no friction between them as they are both doing their unique jobs. Likewise, with the Shevatim each Shevet was doing their unique job, with a focus on the center point — the Mishkan, there isn’t any reason at all to have friction.
The seforim explain that each of the Shevatim had their unique way of serving Hashem and even if it appeared they were doing the same thing at times, their intent was different. We find that the Midrash relates that there were 12 paths for each of the Shevatim going through the Yam Suf. Similarly, there were 12 different korbanos from each Shevet, each one had a different approach towards Torah and to remember yetzias Mitzrayim.
This idea also has implications in regard to Halacha. The Magen Avraham1 quotes from the Ari z’l that one should not change his nusach of Tefila as there are 12 gateways in shamayim corresponding with the 12 Shevatim, and each shevet has their unique Nusach and approach to Avodas Hashem.
The building of the Mishkan created this central point which allowed us all to become diverse and use our unique strengths in the best way possible. Before the Mishkan was built, there wasn’t a central nerve center which we were all focused on, therefore we had to put aside our uniquenesses and come together as one nation and one flag. The moment the Mishkan was built we were able to divide up our talents and focus on our strengths.
I would like to build on this Yesod a little based on the thought of Rav Kook Zt’l2 Many times people talk about Achdus and exclaim that we all have to be doing the same thing and if we aren’t like one another, then we are not together. This is incorrect. We can each have our unique views, and as long as we are all focused on our spiritual nerve center, the Mishkan, which is the “heart” of Klal Yisrael, we will still have Achdus. The moment we lose focus on what we are doing and we focus only on what the others are doing, we lose the Achdus and become a melting pot.
There is a time to be unique, K’Ish Echad, and at the same time you need to be part of the tzibbur, B’Lev Echad.
We should strive to see our unique strengths and focus them to glorify the Torah, each in our own way and merit the ultimate bracha of Hashra’as HaShechina!
(Originally written in 2014)
This Dvar Torah was originally written in memory of Naftali, Gil-ad and Eyal HY’D and now it is updated in memory of Tze’ela and Ravid Chaim HY’D
May their neshamas have an eternal Aliya.
Shivtei Kah - Bamidbar
Chochmah U'Mussar, vol. 2, p. 299
It’s always a real treat to see anything from the Alter. Thank you!!