Parshah Summary – P’shat (literal level)
The parshah begins with the Children of Israel encamped in the wilderness of Paran, and Moses sends out twelve spies to the land of Canaan. After forty days, they return with great reports, carrying some of the land’s bounty: an enormous cluster of grapes, a pomegranate and a fig. But, ten of the spies warn that the inhabitants of the land are giants and warriors; only Caleb and Joshua insist that the land can be conquered. The people side with the ten naysayers and complain that they would rather return to Egypt. In response, Hashem decrees that the entire present generation of the Children of Israel will wander in the desert for forty years until they all perish, and only their offspring will enter the Promised Land. When they hear this news, a group of them storms a mountain on the border, but they are swiftly defeated by the Amalekites and Canaanites. Hashem then gives mitzvot about the offerings of grain, wine and oil that their descendants should bring when they enter the land, as well as the mitzvah to consecrate a portion of dough when making bread, which is the origin of challah. Finally, a man is found gathering sticks on Shabbat. In response, the mitzvah of tzitzit, which are special fringes worn on the four corners of garments, is given as a bodily reminder of the mitzvot.
Torah of Awakening
שְׁלַח־לְךָ֣ אֲנָשִׁ֗ים וְיָתֻ֙רוּ֙ אֶת־אֶ֣רֶץ כְּנַ֔עַן אֲשֶׁר־אֲנִ֥י נֹתֵ֖ן לִבְנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל אִ֣ישׁ אֶחָד֩ אִ֨ישׁ אֶחָ֜ד לְמַטֵּ֤ה אֲבֹתָיו֙ תִּשְׁלָ֔חוּ כֹּ֖ל נָשִׂ֥יא בָהֶֽם׃ Send for yourself people to spy out the land of Canaan that I am giving to the Children of Israel, one person from each of their ancestral tribes you shall send, each one a leader among them... - Bamidbar (Numbers) 13:2, Parshat Bamidbar
There is a story of Rabbi Hersh of Zydatchov, that once when he was a traveling preacher visiting the town of Brody, a number of opponents of Hasidism surrounded him, attacked him, and drove him out of town. Rabbi Hersh describes his experience:
“On the day before Shabbos, they drove me out of the town of Brody and I was in great disgrace. I walked on and on without stopping, and when I got home toward the evening, just before Shabbos, I went to the Beis Medresh in my workday clothes and could barely manage to daven any of the prayers. But in the morning, before davening, I prayed to Hashem: ‘Ribono Shel Olam, Master of the Universe, You see the humiliation of those who have been humiliated, and You see my crushed heart. Give me Light so that I can pray to You!’ Then, suddenly, my heart caught fire. My prayer was a flowing flame. Never before had that happened to me, and I expect it never will again.” In the story, Rabbi Hersh goes through a traumatic experience that seems to destroy his ability pray, and yet, when he prays to be able to pray, it becomes the catalyst for the deepest spiritual experience of his life. The key was not to succumb to the deadening effect of his emotional pain, but to use that pain and elevate it into his own, personal, heartfelt prayer. This is possible only if we are able to courageously confront our pain, rather than be resigned to its deadening effect; this is the Path of כ Kaf, the practice of boldly coming into the truth of our experience. עֲל֥וּ זֶה֙ בַּנֶּ֔גֶב וַעֲלִיתֶ֖ם אֶת־הָהָֽר׃ – “Go up into the Negev and ascend the mountain…” When the spies ascend the mountain and return with giant grapes, pomegranates and figs, they report: “Yes! This land flows with milk and honey and these are some of the wonderful fruits growing there. But, the inhabitants of the land are giants; they would destroy us!” וַנְּהִ֤י בְעֵינֵ֙ינוּ֙ כַּֽחֲגָבִ֔ים וְכֵ֥ן הָיִ֖ינוּ בְּעֵינֵיהֶֽם׃ – We were like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and so we were in their eyes… Once a person knows what it is to ascend the “mountain” of transcendence and partake of the “fruits” of joy and bliss that come from such an awakening, there can be frustration and resignation when they “come down” into the place of ordinary, sometimes negative emotions such anger, fear, sadness, and so on. That is when we need the words of Yehoshua – the words of encouragement that Joshua speaks to them: יהֹוָ֥ה אִתָּ֖נוּ אַל־תִּירָאֻֽם׃ – The Divine is with us; don’t be afraid of them! Meaning, even though you have come down from the “mountain” of transcendence, in fact nothing has changed; that transcendence of the “mountain” is still the open space of your own awareness within which the experience of negativity arises. You can conquer any negativity not by fighting against it, but by using it, by crying out to the Divine from the heart. וַֽיהֹוָ֥ה אִתָּ֖נוּ The Divine is with us – your very nature is Divine, it is the miracle of consciousness that feels the pain in the first place. But, that is not what happens in the parshah; instead, the Israelites are afraid. They say, “Forget it! Let’s go back to Egypt.” Meaning, let’s go back to the ordinary and familiar way of being, before we experienced transcendence. And then, they change their minds again out of fear of punishment, and try to go fight the enemy after all. But Moses says to them: וְלֹא־יִהְיֶ֥ה יְהֹוָ֖ה עִמָּכֶֽם׃ – God will not be with you! They go anyway, and fail. How can this be? If our nature is Divine, how can that change? Of course, it doesn’t change, it is our awareness of this fact that changes. We get seduced by our feelings and believe them into giants. Rather than know our own vastness, “we were like grasshoppers in our own eyes…” Grasshoppers don’t want to get crushed, so we try and fight our feelings, try to push them away, or deny them, and that just creates inner conflict so that: “we were grasshoppers in their eyes” – meaning, the pain that we fight gets bigger and bigger, because negativity is empowered by more negativity. On the other hand, if you know יהֹוָ֥ה אִתָּ֖נוּ The Divine is with us – meaning, the Divine is literally your own nature, then: אַל־תִּירָאֻֽם Don’t be afraid of them! There is never anything to be afraid of in your experience! You’re on top of the world? No big deal it’s a passing experience. You’re in the depths of hell? No problem, it will pass. Rather than get caught up in your experience of the moment, which is always changing, realize the space of the moment within which your experience is arising. You can do this through the synergism of prayer and meditation: “Oh Hashem, help me through this darkness, open me to Your Light!” And then, take the time to open to that Light which is your essence – this is meditation. Then you will know the truth of the words of Yehoshua: אַל־תִּֽירְאוּ֙ אֶת־עַ֣ם הָאָ֔רֶץ – Don’t be afraid of the people of the land – meaning, don’t be afraid of any particular experience that arise – כִּ֥י לַחְמֵ֖נוּ הֵ֑ם – for they are our bread – meaning, when you stand courageously in the midst of difficult experiences, they become food for your awakening, deepening your grounded-ness in the reality of Presence. Then you’ll know directly: יהֹוָ֥ה אִתָּ֖נוּ אַל־תִּירָאֻֽם – the Divine is with you; there’s nothing to be afraid of. So, in this week of Shabbat Shelakh, the Sabbath of Sending, let us courageously come in the truth of our experience and work from there to send forth our prayers from the heart, from the depths of whatever pain arises in our experience, and open fully that we may convert all pain into Light!
Read past teachings on Shelakh L’kha HERE.
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Parshah Summary – P’shat (literal level)
Aaron is instructed to kindle the lamps of the menorah, and the tribe of Levi is initiated into their duties in the Mishkan (Sanctuary). Those who were unable to bring the Pesakh (Passover) offering on the festival, due to being tamei (ritually impure), approach Moses and petition him to be permitted to bring their offerings later. In response, a Pesakh Sheini, a “Second Passover,” is instituted. Israel’s journeys and encampments are then described – they would be guided by the ascending and descending movements of a cloud by day and fire by night over the mishkan. Moses is instructed to make two silver trumpets through which the community would be signaled for journeying, for battle and for festivals. The people then begin moving in formation from Mt. Sinai, where they had been camped for nearly a year. Next, the people complain to Moses about their dissatisfaction with the man (“manna”), the “bread from heaven” with which they were miraculously fed in the wilderness, and they demand that Moses provide them with meat. In response, Moses appoints seventy elders to assist him in the burden of governing, and the people are all fed by numerous quail which descend upon the camp. Miriam speaks judgmentally to Aaron about Moses’ wife and questions his leadership. As a consequence, she contracts tzara’at, the skin affliction associated lashon hara (gossip, slander). Moses prays for her healing with the words, El na refa na la, and the entire community waits seven days for her recovery…
Torah of Awakening
דַּבֵּר֙ אֶֽל־אַהֲרֹ֔ן וְאָמַרְתָּ֖ אֵלָ֑יו בְּהַעֲלֹֽתְךָ֙ אֶת־הַנֵּרֹ֔ת אֶל־מוּל֙ פְּנֵ֣י הַמְּנוֹרָ֔ה יָאִ֖ירוּ שִׁבְעַ֥ת הַנֵּרֽוֹת׃ Speak to Aaron, and say to him: when you kindle the lamps, toward the face of the menorah shall the lamps cast light… - Bamidbar (Numbers) 8:2, Parshat Beha’alotkha
Once, when Reb Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev was traveling, he stopped to spend the night in the town of Lwow. He knocked on the door of a very wealthy man and asked for lodging. “I have no use for vagrants like you! Why don’t you stay at the inn?” said the man. “I am not able to afford the inn,” replied Reb Levi Yitzhak. “Please, I won’t be any trouble, let me stay in one of your rooms just for the night.”
“Well then, if you can’t afford the inn,” said the miserly rich man, “go around the corner to the schoolteacher. He likes to take in vagrants, and he will offer you a room, food and drink.” So, Reb Levi Yitzhak went around the corner to the schoolteacher and was offered lodging. But on his way there, someone in the town recognized him, and began to spread the word that the great Rabbi Levi Yitzhak was at the schoolteacher’s house. Before long, there were throngs of people crowding the house, trying to get a blessing from the master. Among the crowd was the miserly rich man, who pushed his way to the front. “Master! Master! Forgive me! I didn’t know who you were! Please come and stay with me. All the great rabbis who come through town stay with me!” “Do you know,” replied Reb Levi Yitzhak, “why such a fuss is made over Avraham and Sarah for their hospitality when they opened their home to the visiting angels and gave them food and drink? Didn’t Lot also invite them in and give them food? But in the Torah’s description about Lot, it says: וַ֠יָּבֹ֠אוּ שְׁנֵ֨י הַמַּלְאָכִ֤ים סְדֹ֙מָה֙ – two angels came to Sodom… But with Avraham, it says: שְׁלֹשָׁ֣ה אֲנָשִׁ֔ים נִצָּבִ֖ים עָלָ֑יו – three men were standing over him… “You see, Lot saw majestic angels, whereas Avraham saw only dusty wayfarers…” In this story, Reb Levi Yitzhak points out the hypocritical ulterior motive of the miser. Hospitality is a basic middah, a fundamental quality of the spiritual life, not a tool for elevating our status, which really means reinforcing and enhancing ego – that illusory self-sense which arises from identification with thoughts and feelings. It is easy to see the value of helping others out of love, without ulterior motive. But the “dusty wayfarers” of the story are not just people in need; they can be any undesirable experiences that come to us. When was the last time you were annoyed with something or someone? Were you able to open yourself fully? Did you give your attention generously to the situation or were you like the miserly fellow: “Don’t bother me!” Every experience is an opportunity to remember: “This, now, is the Divine, appearing to me in this form. This, now, is an opportunity to transcend ego and welcome this moment as it appears, to welcome the Divine which comes in the form of this moment.” But to do that, we have to be aware not only of what is happening around us, but of what is happening within us: אֶל־מוּל֙ פְּנֵ֣י הַמְּנוֹרָ֔ה יָאִ֖ירוּ שִׁבְעַ֥ת הַנֵּרֽוֹת – toward the face of the menorah shall the seven lamps shine… How can the lamps shine their light “toward the face of the menorah?” After all, it is the nature of fire to shine outward in all directions; you can’t “point” the light “toward” anything. But if we understand that the “light” represents our awareness, and the “menorah” represents our own bodies, then the metaphor can be instructive. Ordinarily, our “light” tends to shine “outward,” creating the sense of “me” in the body, looking out. But shine your “light” back into your body, and you will be able to sense your own impulses, your own feelings. Through this intentional act of “self” awareness, there is the potential to awaken – to transcend the “self” – meaning, to transcend the self-sense which is created through identification with thought and feeling. Through this transcendence, we can recognize: we are not our thoughts and feelings alone. We are the light. And in recognizing our deepest selves as this light, then there is the genuine potential to overcome that tendency toward “ulterior motive,” and to be an actual light of welcome. There are three basic steps to this process: First, we must intentionally say “yes” to whatever comes to us; we must affirm the Presence that stands before us, as it is, as unsatisfactory as it might be. This step is internal; it is about our attitude toward the truth of this moment, and is represented by the letter ו vav, which has the meaning of “and.” Second, we must recognize the Divine Reality which is present within the form that this moment has taken – the inner essence of Being behind all phenomena. This step is also internal, and is represented by the letter ט tet which begins the word טוֹב – “goodness.” Third, we must “welcome the dusty wayfarer” – that is, take some action to express our hospitality toward the Divine before us. This may mean actual hospitality, or generosity in listening and empathizing, or it may be simply in our smile and tone of voice. This step is external, and is represented by the letter ב bet, which means “house,” hinting both at the hospitality we can express through sharing our homes, as well as the mishkan (the portable Sanctuary of the Israelites), and later the ancient Temple in Jerusalem, which was the “House” of the Divine Presence. Together, these three letters form the word טוֹב tov – “goodness!” May we bring forth the goodness that is our essence by shining our light of hospitality both within and then out into the world, doing our part to transform the tiny corner of the universe we inhabit into a Home for the Divine.
Read past teachings on Beha'alotkha HERE.
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