by Rabbi Avi Billet
While certainly no one had in mind the Bankruptcy Code when chapter divisions were made in the Torah, nevertheless the fact that Chapter 11 of Bamidbar is a time of turmoil and reorganization is certainly coincidental to the most famous “Chapter” in the United States, and therefore an easy way to remember where the events of this chapter in the Torah can be found.
When one studies chapters 11-20, which include a number of negative episodes and unfortunate tales, one notices that the people of Israel are referred to in different ways, suggesting that the Torah is hinting to much which lies beneath the surface of the text in all of the narratives (and beyond) that span the next few parshas. This designation is certainly lost upon those who rely on a translation alone, which would likely not make a huge (certainly not noticeable) distinction between such words as העם, בני ישראל, קהל, קהל ה'. All of these words or terms refer to the nation, or a subset/group from the nation, in one form or another.
Even for those who notice, for example, the use of העם versus בני ישראל, the reality is that there is inconsistency in the inconsistency, in that sometimes העם refers to a certain group from the nation, and sometimes the same word does in fact refer to the entire nation.
To note one example: In the first verse of chapter 11, we are told ויהי העם כמתאננים רע באזני ה'. העם (clearly not the entire nation) is “like complainers, bad in God’s ears.” (11:1) God then hears this (וישמע ה'), and sends a fire which consumes what seems to be a smaller group. Then העם (obviously a different group than those who were consumed by a fire) cries out and Moshe prays for this fire to subside. (11:2) There are, of course, different opinions as to the identity of these complainers, whom we should perhaps call “almost-complainers.”
What follows is another group of people who crave meat, amongst other foods they remember from Egypt, and their complaints cause “בני ישראל” to participate in the longing for meat. (11:4)
Rabbi Yosef Zvi Heller explained the opening complaint, with its distinction between העם and the group from the second story (בני ישראל) indicating that those in the first group were simpletons (this view obviously does not align with Rashi who argues they were leaders, possibly even the 70 elders) who were used to engaging in physical labor, quite unused to having their food and needs provided for them, while not being required to work at all, leaving only the study of Torah as their main pursuit.
At the same time, they couldn’t really complain of their lot, because certainly their circumstance was much better than being slaves to Egypt. Thus, Rabbi Heller argues, their complaints weren’t aloud, they were rather in their hearts, which allowed them to reach God’s “ears” and for only God to “hear” them. So they were like complainers but not actual complainers.
Were they in such a horrible position? Clearly the idea of being idle was unsuitable for some people. Which begs a different question of how the Bnei Yisrael occupied their time in the wilderness? Were they simply supposed to study Torah all the time? Were they like nomadic Bedouins, living from the land, managing to eke out an existence and life in the wilderness, aimed at raising their children in such a situation? Were they learning how to live and function in a real world, as non-slaves? Did they have military training? All of these are actually touched upon by Rav Kasher in his Torah Shleimah on the verses describing what the people learned (or began learning) in Marah (Shmos chapter 15, footnote 270) which certainly makes for an interesting read. But in light of Rabbi Heller’s insight, the following tale could at least help us explain the problem in this particular case of the would be complainers.
Rabbi Yitzchak Elchanan Spektor (whose name adorns the Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary of Yeshiva University) was the head of the Bet Din in Kovno. One time when he was walking home from shul with his assistant, he saw two Jewish day laborers who were idling the time, hoping to be hired for work for the day. The rabbi heard them saying, “The rabbi has it so easy. He sits at home all day and doesn’t need to find work daily like we do!”
When he got home Rav Yitzchak Elchanan called them to his home and asked them what they get paid each day for their labors. They told him their income was a ruble a day. He offered them the following: Would you accept it if I gave you a ruble and a half each day, in exchange for your sitting in shul all day, comfortably reading Tehillim, so you shouldn’t have to work so hard?
They said YES! After the first day was over, they each came and collected the 1.5 rubles. The next day, they went to shul as before, but weren’t as excited about it, because they were used to working and not sitting idly. At the end of the second day, when they came to collect their “pay” they told Rav Yitzchak Elchanan that they weren’t coming back the next day as they needed to work. They knew being idle, even through the holy activity of reading Tehillim all day, was not for them.
Rav Yitzchak Elchanan then challenged them, “Why, then, did you say that I have it so good in that I sit all day at home… and you don’t want the same thing for yourselves?”
Their lack of response indicated they didn’t have a good answer. And while he didn’t spell out to them how his involvement in the community, and the role he played was significant, his point to them was that their actions essentially mimicked what was taking place in the opening tale of Chapter 11. Those who left Egypt were simple people who were used to putting in a day’s labor – even if it was slavery – and were most unused to the idleness that came along with becoming experts in Torah law that was a significant portion of their lives now, in what was slated to be a short trek to the Promised Land (this changes in Parshat Shlach when the spies incident causes them to languish in the wilderness for a sum of 40 years). [Story recorded in Otzar Chaim of R Chaim Yaakov Zuckerman]
The people were “like” complainers because they were unused to the life that seems to have been thrust upon them, a life for which many of them may have felt unsuited.
This is a challenge that any person faces when there is a lull in one’s usual routine. For children who are in school, the break between school and summer plans can be one in which idleness and boredom create unproductive days. For those who graduate school and don’t have plans for whatever is next, that idleness and lack of direction can be an extremely frustrating time period. People who leave one job (or who are let go) without another job lined up can suffer very serious mental and emotional setbacks that may come from the idleness or lack of direction. And people who retire without a plan for how to occupy each day may also suffer from this same idleness-syndrome.
Some people fill their lives with activities, with volunteering, with part time work, with auditing classes at universities, with attending library activities, physical activity in various sports, and of course – in what should be an ideal for all of us – the study of Torah and further pursuit of a relationship with Hashem as afforded to us in our shul community and through whatever opportunities we find or create for ourselves.
While there is certainly merit to taking it easy, relaxing, lounging about, there is a time and place for everything. And there should also be a limit on how much we remain idle. While certainly great ideas can be born out of idleness, Lashon Hora is an unfortunate product of too much idleness as well (also a topic of our Parsha – with Miriam speaking of Moshe to their brother Aharon). So a balance must always exist between leisure and keeping active and busy.
May we always find a proper balance between idleness and productive activities so that we feel fulfilled each day, knowing we’ve accomplished good things, have grown as people, and have grown in our relationships with family, friends, and of course, with the Almighty Himself.
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