The Book of Questions

A thought on Parashas Bamidbar

“I had six honest serving men-they taught me all I knew: Their names were Where and What and When-and Why and How and Who.”

Rudyard Kipling

We have just spent the past few months understanding the myriad and nuanced details of the construction and service of the mishkan. In Parashas Bamidbar, we are introduced to the process of the dismantling of the mishkan. Why would we want to dismantle and move the mishkan? What is the significance of constructing the mishkan only to dismantle it later?

The moving of the mishkan is also replete with nuanced details and specifications. It is not as simple as throwing the pieces onto a truck until the next destination. 

The Levi’im were forbidden to look at certain items in the mishkan, such as the Aron. All those parts of the mishkan had to be covered by the Kohanim and only then were they able to be moved. 

The actual moving process was also a tedious effort, as each family of Levi’im was only able to move that which they had been assigned to move. 

The children of Gershon were assigned the screens, hangings and the covers of the mishkan. 

The children of Kehos were assigned the Aron, Menora, Mizbeach, Shulchan. 

The children of Merari were assigned the walls and anchors. 

We see that just as the assembly of the mishkan was done with precision detail, the dismantling of the mishkan had to be done properly as well. 

What is the practical lesson here?

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Given the opportunity, humans tend to be very quick to destroy. When a person is told to critique someone, he will usually waste no time in tearing him to pieces.

When I was a kid, I participated in an after school program for the smart kids amongst us. In this program we met every Monday night and worked to build a project out of electric legos. It was fun, it was challenging, and it helped boost some skills that needed strengthening. After I completed the project, there was another session to present the project and then take it apart. For reasons beyond my control, I missed the last session. I never had a chance to take that project apart. I recall feeling conflicted, on the one hand everyone else was taking their project apart and enjoying that thrill in taking things apart. On the other hand, my project, as far as I knew, would be displayed forever for all future participants to gain inspiration from. 

I do not know what became of the project and life moved on. What is intriguing to me as I think about it, is that we all have an urge to take things apart. We may enjoy the challenge of building a castle out of dominoes, but it doesn’t compare to the thrill of watching it fall down. 

Recently, a group of friends were discussing the spiritual value of a question, whether it is a negative or a positive trait. Some argued that perhaps it was reminiscent of the Amalekites who cast doubt on Hashem. Others argued that it was a powerful force which enables us to get to the essence of the matter. 

Asking questions is the basis of hundreds of leadership and psychology books. Simon Sinek famously wrote Start with Why? We have developed a culture revolving around asking questions. This is not a new phenomenon either. 

In my Yeshiva days, one of the key indicators of a bright student was his ability to ask tough questions that would upend the whole shiur. You couldn’t learn a line of Gemara, Rashi or Rambam without trying to think of a question to upend the reasoning. It was confusing to say the least. Here we are trying to understand the words of Torah and Torah sages who lived millennia or centuries ago and all we can do is question it!!

It took me some time to understand that through the act of  questioning the answers we are given, we are able to  reach the essence of the matter and then reconstruct it in a more wholesome way. In fact, the Talmud itself is filled with such questions, all in a quest to reach the essential law. 

It would appear that questioning is in fact a positive trait, as the popular adage says A Jew answers a question with a question. 

Rav Adin Steinsaltz, teaches us in his sefer, Chayei Olam, that the very act of questioning is a dangerous act, with the deepest questions reserved for the holiest of men. He explains that a simple Jew may learn from a Halacha sefer with the summation of the halachos. While as one gets wiser, one can learn more deeply into the nuances of a halachic discussion. One can understand that, that which is presented so simply and clearly, is not simple and clear at all, it seems fragmented and disconnected. It is a complex exercise and must be handled with care. 

Rav Steinsaltz elaborates that when the mishkan was moved, that which was heretofore no-man's land, was now walked on by everyone. The new place of the mishkan became its new holy space. Therefore moving the mishkan, dismantling the resting place for the Shechina, was such a sensitive project, due to the holiness therein. Shifting from looking at something in awe to dismantling it, can be a very difficult process. 

This is not unsimilar to the idea of questioning that which we would think cannot be questioned. Just like when we start dismantling the mishkan it can be difficult to continue seeing it with its original awe, so too when we start questioning a matter, it can lose its original allure. 

We need to make sure that when we dismantle or question something, we are still able to relate to what it could be and what it has the potential to be. This is true for everything from raising children to building the mishkan and lots in between. The act of breaking something down is not something that can be done by just anyone, it needs to be done only by those with the sensitivity and respect to do so. 

This is not to say that we should not ask questions. We should be asking questions, but we need to learn how and when to ask. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks Zt’l teaches¹ that “Judaism is a questioning and argumentative faith, in which even the greatest ask questions of God, and in which the rabbis of the Mishna and Midrash constantly disagree. Rigid doctrinal faith that discourages questions calling instead for blind obedience and submission, is psychologically damaging and fails to prepare a child for the complexity of real life.”²   He writes elsewhere that  “To be a Jewish child is to learn how to question.”³

When you think about it, the whole book of Bamidbar is a book of questions. It is about a people fresh out of their most traumatic experience to date - the enslavement in Egypt. They are asking questions, because they are trying to understand. Sometimes their questions led them to trouble, like Korach and his followers, and they were punished for it. At other times they are right on target and are amply rewarded for it.  

Perhaps the Torah’s instruction here regarding the placement of the people and their assignments is to teach us that yes we can ask, but we must know our place. We must understand what we are asking and for what purpose. We must understand that we could only ask, if it will put us in a place where we are still able to make space for an answer. 

Knowing what to ask and when to ask it is arguably more worthy than the question itself. When the goal of the question is to build rather than destroy, we can reach greater heights. 

Just as the mishkan was constantly in a state of transition being dismantled and reassembled until it reached Yerushalayim, the place of the mikdash. We too, with all our questions, those with answers and those without, should be meritorious to the great day when the great shofar will blast and Eliyahu HaNavi will answer all our questions, thus making way to reconstruct the mikdash in the most magnificent way.

1. As quoted in Chiefly Quotes by Rabbi Johnny Solomon

2. Studies in Spirituality p. 78

3. To Heal a Fractured World p. 25