Upon driving out of the city limits of the little Negev town of Yerucham, where we are living this year, all one can see for miles is desert--barren brown mountains stretching out to the horizon. My first nervous thought is always: Do I have enough gas? Do I have a cell-phone? Do I have enough water?! One feels the desert’s barrenness, that it is a place of absences, a place without, without color or vegetation, without the basic necessities of life –water, food, shelter.
This week we begin the fourth book of the Torah, Bamidbar, “In the desert.” What happens “in the desert?” Almost everything of importance to the Israelite people. It is here that they become a nation, here that they receive the Torah, and here that they begin to develop a relationship – with all its ups and downs – with God. Why “in the desert?” Why in this place of emptiness and absence?
There is something important about the emotional experience of this barrenness. The rabbis say that only one who makes himself “like a desert” is truly capable of receiving the Torah. The Sefat Emet explains that a person needs to be aware of his own barrenness, of his own intense lacks before he can be filled by the great presence of the Torah. A person who views himself as already complete will not be open to receiving the gifts of the Torah. The more one feels that one is missing something, the more one feels incomplete, like an open, empty vessel, the more room the Torah has to enter and fill the vessel.
Maybe being “like a desert” means cultivating a kind of longing or yearning – a thirst like that of the parched land. Thirst is an intense awareness of the lack of a basic necessity; our desire for Torah should be like thirst, a desperate and intense longing. All the complaining the Israelites did in the desert, the constant crying out for water, the yearning for the watermelons and squashes of Egypt, perhaps this desert experience of longing is meant to be translated into a spiritual longing, a longing for God and for Torah, a deep awareness of absence which leads to the yearning for Presence.
In modern Hebrew, the word to express this emotion is ga’agua. It can be used to express the feeling of missing someone who is temporarily absent, but it can also be used to express a kind of yearning for something greater than oneself, a sense of oneself as essentially “missing” in some way and therefore striving, reaching for something beyond the self. The desert experience of lacking something like water is the physical parallel to this basic human emotion, an emotion which is at the core of religious pursuit.
As the Psalm -- also found in a popular Shabbat zemer (song) -- goes:
Tzamah nafshi lelokim, l’el hai. "My soul thirsts for the Lord, the living God (Ps 42:3)."
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Nice idea about making oneself incomplete, in order to receive Torah -- it reminds me of the idea of the Hida (Hayyim Joseph David Azulai) about דרש דרש משה, the middle words of the Torah -- it is traditional among scribes to write the first דרש at the end of the line, and the second דרש at the beginning of the next line. The Hida writes (in Kissé Rahamim, on chapter 9 of Masekheth Sofrim) that when we have studied the whole Torah (דרש, expounded, up until the very "end of the line"), we should consider ourselves as if we're still just "דרש at the very beginning of the line" -- empty, as you say, like the desert. If we come to Torah with this mentality, then we can be like Moses (משה, the next word in the verse).
ReplyDeleteBy the way, on the topic of "Bemidbar Sinai", are you familiar with Yannai's qerova for Seder Bemidbar?
ReplyDeleteHe begins by saying that it was as a sign of favor, a forgiveness of their sins, that You spoke to Moses in the Wilderness and told him to count the Israelites.
Both the act of speaking to Moses and the counting was a sign of favor and forgiveness.
And just as you spoke to Moses in the Desert, so may the Desert bloom in our day.
He goes on to say: Only the Generation of the Wildnerness [דור המדבר] merited to receive the Torah:
לנחול עוז מתנה ממדבר / ולהקים לך אוהל במדבר / ... / מסוד הנדבר / בקול הנדבר / ובכבוד הנחבר
באוהל מועד / בו להיוועד / ובעדיך להעד / יודע ועד --
חי וקיים נורא ומרום וקדוש
And although You spoke at Mt. Sinai in full glory, in public, You spoke in the Tent of Meeting privately, modestly -- and this was superior. And, as in a kethubba, You showed Your love by writing the place (במדבר סיני באוהל מועד) and the date (באחד לחודש הראשון לשנה השנית).
And it was a wonderful thing to count the Israelites -- it was a sign of great honor to them.
And the first verse ends לאמר.
To say what?
To say Your love for them:
לאמר אהבת אהובים אשר אהבת אותם
לאמר בריכת בנים בחר בית בינותם
לאמר גדולת גוי גדר גנזי גינותם
לאמר דברת דודים דופק דלתם דתם
(and so on, through the rest of the alphabet)
And you commanded Moses: "Take account of their heads" (שאו את ראש) -- and so, yes, take account of them, and place them as a head, ahead, in the world
תתנם תוקף תלוי ראש
תשיתם שבח שרון ראש
תרוממם רצון ראשית ראש
תקיפם קומת קניין ראש
(And so on, through the rest of the alphabet, backwards -- תשר"ק.)
And that's all we have of the Qerova, for the Silluq is missing.