Rabbi Shmuel Rabinowitz, Rabbi of the Western Wall and Holy Sites
In Parashat Beha’alotcha, the Jewish nation begins a new stage in their historic journey – the long-awaited journey to the Promised Land, the Land of Israel.
But as often happens in life, especially after moments of great elevation comes a fall. The immense euphoria of the Exodus from Egypt and the giving of the Torah begins to fade, and as soon as the desert journey begins, so do the hardships. The Torah describes how groups within the nation begin to complain and weep over their bitter fate, as it says:
“And the rabble that was among them developed a craving, and the children of Israel also wept again and said: ‘Who will feed us meat? We remember the fish that we ate in Egypt free of charge, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic. But now our souls are dry; there is nothing at all except this manna before our eyes.’”
(Numbers 11:4-6)
The complaint seems almost incomprehensible. The Israelites receive the manna each day – miraculous food descending from heaven. They do not need to work for it or worry about their livelihood, and yet they complain.
Then comes one of the most dramatic moments in the Torah. Moses, the leader who brought the people out of Egypt and guided them through the splitting of the sea and the giving of the Torah, breaks down. He turns to the Creator with harsh and emotionally charged words, as the Torah describes:
“And Moses said to the Lord: ‘Why have You dealt ill with Your servant, and why have I not found favor in Your eyes, that You have placed the burden of this entire people upon me? Did I conceive all this people? Did I give birth to them, that You should say to me: Carry them in your bosom as a nurse carries a suckling child? … Where am I to get meat to give to all this people? … I alone cannot bear all this people, for it is too heavy for me. And if this is how You deal with me, please kill me now, if I have found favor in Your eyes, and let me not see my misery.’”
(ibid. 11:11-15)
God hears his cry and commands him to gather seventy elders of Israel and bring them to the Tent of Meeting. There, a spirit of prophecy descends upon the elders, and they become partners in leading the people. Afterwards, God brings from the sea a great abundance of birds, and the people eat them with enormous craving, until many die from their excessive indulgence. The place is then given the chilling name “Kivrot HaTaavah” – “the Graves of Craving.”
We must understand: why did Moses break down here? This was certainly not the first crisis he had faced. What was there in this event that shook him so deeply that he cried out, “Please kill me now”?
Moreover, if we look back, we discover that already at the beginning of his mission, after he came to Pharaoh to demand the people’s release, an equally severe crisis occurred. Instead of easing Israel’s suffering, Pharaoh intensified the burden of slavery. Moses felt that his mission had failed. Out of deep pain he turned to God and said:
“Why have You done evil to this people? Why did You send me? Since I came to Pharaoh to speak in Your name, he has done worse to this people.”
(Exodus 5:22-23)
And God responds:
“Now you shall see what I will do to Pharaoh, for with a mighty hand he will send them out, and with a mighty hand he will drive them from his land.”
(Exodus 6:1)
Rashi brings the words of the sages, who explain that because of this complaint Moses was punished and would not enter the Land of Israel:
“You questioned My ways; therefore, ‘Now you shall see’ – what will be done to Pharaoh you shall see, but what will be done to the kings of the seven nations when I bring Israel into the Land, you shall not see.”
Thus, in the Book of Exodus there is criticism of Moses for raising doubts, whereas here, when his words are far harsher, not only is there no criticism of him, but on the contrary, God draws him closer and eases the burden of leadership from upon him. What is the difference between these two cases?
A beautiful explanation was offered by Rabbi Meir Shapiro of Lublin, of blessed memory – founder of the Daf Yomi initiative and founder of the Chachmei Lublin Yeshiva in Poland. Moses broke down because his mission in the world was being changed. When God appeared to him at the burning bush, he was assigned to be a spiritual shepherd, an educator, and the transmitter of Torah. But now, instead of engaging in his exalted mission, he finds himself immersed in material demands and in satisfying the physical needs of the people.
This is the deeper meaning of his cry: “as a nurse carries a suckling child.” A tutor and a nurse are two entirely different roles. One’s task is to nourish the body, while another’s is to shape the spirit. Moses felt that his inner essence was being taken from him and that he was being moved away from the place for which he had been created.
From here comes the distinction between the two events. In the Book of Exodus, Moses believed that his mission was failing. This reflected a difficulty in faith and a questioning of the way God was leading the redemption. But in our parasha, there is no lack of faith – only the pain of a person who feels he is losing his essence.
It is especially striking to discover the context in which Rabbi Meir Shapiro said these words. He spoke them before wealthy donors from whom he was trying to raise support for his yeshivah, shortly before his passing at the age of only forty-six, childless. He described the pain of a man of spirit forced to leave his inner world and run about raising money for the yeshivah, instead of sitting peacefully and teaching Torah expansively and joyfully.
And in the midst of his remarks, he said with terrible pain:
“Regarding this Moses said: ‘And if this is how You deal with me, please kill me now.’ This tragedy was something even Moses our teacher did not have the strength to endure. The great educator could not reconcile himself to the fate of a nursemaid.”
Within these words lies a profound human truth. A person is capable of bearing immense hardship when acting with a sense of purpose. But when a person feels he is no longer walking the path to which his soul truly belongs – he loses the strength to cope.
This is one of the great tragedies of modern life. Many people spend years engaged in pursuits that do not fit their inner essence, simply because society defines them as success. Yet deep inside, their soul is elsewhere.
