1. Going to the Well
The Parsha relates that when the Jewish people arrived in the Wilderness of Zin, they stopped at a place called Kadesh, where Miriam the prophetess, Moshe?s sister, passed away. The Torah says, ?? and the people settled in Kadesh. Miriam died there and she was buried there. And there was no water for the congregation?? (Chap. 20, verses 1-2). Notice how the death of Miriam is immediately adjacent to the recounting of the sudden lack of water. Rashi, citing the Talmud in Tractate Taanit (9a), says this shows us that it was in Miriam?s merit that the Jewish people had a special well throughout their journeys in the desert that provided them with water.
The question: Why were the Jewish people denied water from the well after Miriam?s death? Wouldn?t they still require water for their journey to the Promised Land?
The answer: The Kli Yakar (Rabbi Shlomo Ephraim of Luntzitz), says that the well was taken away from the Jewish people as a punishment for their failure to properly mourn the death of Miriam. He notes that when Aaron the High Priest passed away, the Torah states, ?And they wept for Aaron for thirty days? (Chap. 20, verse 29). And when Moshe died, the Torah states, ?And the Children of Israel wept for Moshe? thirty days? (Deuteronomy 34:8). Yet upon Miriam?s death, no mention is made in the text of weeping or mourning ? it says simply, ?Miriam died there and she was buried there? (Chap. 20, verse 1). This, says the Kli Yakar, was an act of ingratitude on the part of the Jewish people, who for forty years had benefited from Miriam?s well. Hence, upon Miriam?s death, the well was taken away so that all would recognize and appreciate the great gift that they had enjoyed thanks to her merit, and they would then realize that they should truly mourn Miriam?s passing.
The lesson: Life is such that we often do not appreciate things until they are taken away, or in danger of being taken away. We see above how the Jewish people had come to take the miraculous well of Miriam for granted. Traveling through the desert for four decades without having to worry about where their water would come from was a tremendous blessing, one which no doubt spared the Jews a great deal of anxiety and concern. But time cast its spell, making the miraculous appear to be routine. It was only once Miriam had died, and the well disappeared, that the Jews suddenly appreciated Miriam?s contribution to their overall welfare. Sadly, in this respect human nature has changed very little over the millennia. For it is only now, once large portions of Judea, Samaria and Gaza have been taken away from us in recent years, that we better appreciate their strategic, military, historic and religious value. When Joseph?s tomb in Shechem (Nablus) was set alight by a Palestinian mob last October, Israelis from across the political spectrum suddenly felt a renewed bond with the site. They might never have visited it before, nor even planned to do so, but once the site fell into Palestinian hands and was brutally demolished, the nation quickly became aware of the enormous loss it had suffered. If we apply this lesson to the Oslo process as a whole, we can suggest that perhaps one of the reasons behind it was that G-d wanted us to learn to better appreciate the Land that He has given us. By slowly taking parts of the Land away from us over the past few years, G-d has aroused within many Jews a renewed sense of appreciation and connection with the Land, helping us all to realize that it is not something to be taken for granted. Rather, we must use the gift that He has given us, filling the Land with Jews and settling in every corner, so that never again will the nations of the world be able to pressure us to concede territory. Having learned the lesson, let us hope that the nation will now have the strength and the determination to implement it.
2. Hitting the Rock
After Miriam?s death and the disappearance of the well, the Jewish people complain to Moshe that they want water. G-d tells Moshe to take his staff, gather all the people in front of a rock and speak to it, promising that a miracle would occur and water would flow out of the rock. The Torah then states, ?Moshe and Aaron gathered the congregation before the rock and he said to them, ?Listen now, O rebels, shall we bring forth water for you from this rock?? Then Moshe raised his arm and struck the rock with his staff twice, and abundant water came forth, and the assembly and their animals drank? (Chap. 20, verses 10-11). Note that Moshe ?struck the rock?, whereas G-d told him to ?speak to it?. Afterwards, G-d told Moshe and Aaron that they would be punished for the whole affair: ?Because you did not believe in Me to sanctify Me in the eyes of the Children of Israel, therefore you will not bring this congregation to the Land that I have given them? (Chap. 20, verse 12).
The question: Why was Aaron punished if it was Moshe who struck the rock?
The answer: Menahem Beker (in his book Parperaot LeTorah) says that the answer lies in the fact that Moshe hit the rock twice. Though this appears to be a minor detail of the story, it contains within it the source of Aaron?s sin, for had Moshe hit the rock only once, there would be no grounds for punishing Aaron. But when Moshe raised his staff for the second time, Aaron could have stepped in and stopped him from doing so. By remaining silent, however, Aaron became a partner to Moshe?s sin of striking the rock. Hence, he too was punished along with Moshe.
The lesson: As we saw above, inaction in the face of wrongdoing makes one a partner to the offense and its consequences. Sin, therefore, is not necessarily a matter of taking a specific, prohibited action ? it can also constitute passivity. Judaism requires us to do good, but also to do what we can (within the bounds of the law) to prevent evil from occurring. Ari Shavit, a left-wing columnist for the Israeli daily Ha?aretz, wrote (June 26) this past week about the silence prevailing on the Israeli left in the face of Palestinian terror attacks against Jews in the territories. In his column, entitled, ?The Good People Are Silent?, Shavit wrote as follows:
?It will be difficult to forget this silence. For several months now, on almost a daily basis, Israeli citizens who live beyond the Green Line are being murdered by the historic allies of the Israeli peace movement, yet that movement is silent. Here and there its members might mumble a word or two expressing their condolences. Here and there they might make a weak-kneed appeal to Palestinian Authority Chairman Yasser Arafat. However, essentially, they are silent. In the deepest sense, they are silent. They see their allies shooting at point-blank range at Israelis and yet they are silent? it is an unforgivable silence. It is a blood-chilling silence and it raises the question whether what has been marketed here for the past few decades as humanist liberalism was really what it purported to be; whether what has been presented here as the hallowed value of universalism was not in fact only an extremely particularist value that was intended to serve the specific needs of a specific cult of enlightened human beings.?
Shavit concludes by saying that such silence strips its practitioners of their moral authority. Shavit?s point is an excellent one, and we all need to take it to heart, even if it was directed at only a particular segment of Israeli society. For each of us has a responsibility to speak out against the murder of Jews. Each of us has the ability to write to a congressman, a Knesset member or some other elected representative. Each of us can raise our voice in prayer on behalf of our brethren, and plead for an end to their suffering. Like Aaron, each of us sees the staff being raised in the air ? the question now is whether we will act to stop it before it strikes again.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
An Occasional Series by Michael Freund of Raanana, Israel
Comments/Feedback/Subscribe: parsha_sheet@hotmail.com
The Parsha relates that when the Jewish people arrived in the Wilderness of Zin, they stopped at a place called Kadesh, where Miriam the prophetess, Moshe?s sister, passed away. The Torah says, ?? and the people settled in Kadesh. Miriam died there and she was buried there. And there was no water for the congregation?? (Chap. 20, verses 1-2). Notice how the death of Miriam is immediately adjacent to the recounting of the sudden lack of water. Rashi, citing the Talmud in Tractate Taanit (9a), says this shows us that it was in Miriam?s merit that the Jewish people had a special well throughout their journeys in the desert that provided them with water.
The question: Why were the Jewish people denied water from the well after Miriam?s death? Wouldn?t they still require water for their journey to the Promised Land?
The answer: The Kli Yakar (Rabbi Shlomo Ephraim of Luntzitz), says that the well was taken away from the Jewish people as a punishment for their failure to properly mourn the death of Miriam. He notes that when Aaron the High Priest passed away, the Torah states, ?And they wept for Aaron for thirty days? (Chap. 20, verse 29). And when Moshe died, the Torah states, ?And the Children of Israel wept for Moshe? thirty days? (Deuteronomy 34:8). Yet upon Miriam?s death, no mention is made in the text of weeping or mourning ? it says simply, ?Miriam died there and she was buried there? (Chap. 20, verse 1). This, says the Kli Yakar, was an act of ingratitude on the part of the Jewish people, who for forty years had benefited from Miriam?s well. Hence, upon Miriam?s death, the well was taken away so that all would recognize and appreciate the great gift that they had enjoyed thanks to her merit, and they would then realize that they should truly mourn Miriam?s passing.
The lesson: Life is such that we often do not appreciate things until they are taken away, or in danger of being taken away. We see above how the Jewish people had come to take the miraculous well of Miriam for granted. Traveling through the desert for four decades without having to worry about where their water would come from was a tremendous blessing, one which no doubt spared the Jews a great deal of anxiety and concern. But time cast its spell, making the miraculous appear to be routine. It was only once Miriam had died, and the well disappeared, that the Jews suddenly appreciated Miriam?s contribution to their overall welfare. Sadly, in this respect human nature has changed very little over the millennia. For it is only now, once large portions of Judea, Samaria and Gaza have been taken away from us in recent years, that we better appreciate their strategic, military, historic and religious value. When Joseph?s tomb in Shechem (Nablus) was set alight by a Palestinian mob last October, Israelis from across the political spectrum suddenly felt a renewed bond with the site. They might never have visited it before, nor even planned to do so, but once the site fell into Palestinian hands and was brutally demolished, the nation quickly became aware of the enormous loss it had suffered. If we apply this lesson to the Oslo process as a whole, we can suggest that perhaps one of the reasons behind it was that G-d wanted us to learn to better appreciate the Land that He has given us. By slowly taking parts of the Land away from us over the past few years, G-d has aroused within many Jews a renewed sense of appreciation and connection with the Land, helping us all to realize that it is not something to be taken for granted. Rather, we must use the gift that He has given us, filling the Land with Jews and settling in every corner, so that never again will the nations of the world be able to pressure us to concede territory. Having learned the lesson, let us hope that the nation will now have the strength and the determination to implement it.
2. Hitting the Rock
After Miriam?s death and the disappearance of the well, the Jewish people complain to Moshe that they want water. G-d tells Moshe to take his staff, gather all the people in front of a rock and speak to it, promising that a miracle would occur and water would flow out of the rock. The Torah then states, ?Moshe and Aaron gathered the congregation before the rock and he said to them, ?Listen now, O rebels, shall we bring forth water for you from this rock?? Then Moshe raised his arm and struck the rock with his staff twice, and abundant water came forth, and the assembly and their animals drank? (Chap. 20, verses 10-11). Note that Moshe ?struck the rock?, whereas G-d told him to ?speak to it?. Afterwards, G-d told Moshe and Aaron that they would be punished for the whole affair: ?Because you did not believe in Me to sanctify Me in the eyes of the Children of Israel, therefore you will not bring this congregation to the Land that I have given them? (Chap. 20, verse 12).
The question: Why was Aaron punished if it was Moshe who struck the rock?
The answer: Menahem Beker (in his book Parperaot LeTorah) says that the answer lies in the fact that Moshe hit the rock twice. Though this appears to be a minor detail of the story, it contains within it the source of Aaron?s sin, for had Moshe hit the rock only once, there would be no grounds for punishing Aaron. But when Moshe raised his staff for the second time, Aaron could have stepped in and stopped him from doing so. By remaining silent, however, Aaron became a partner to Moshe?s sin of striking the rock. Hence, he too was punished along with Moshe.
The lesson: As we saw above, inaction in the face of wrongdoing makes one a partner to the offense and its consequences. Sin, therefore, is not necessarily a matter of taking a specific, prohibited action ? it can also constitute passivity. Judaism requires us to do good, but also to do what we can (within the bounds of the law) to prevent evil from occurring. Ari Shavit, a left-wing columnist for the Israeli daily Ha?aretz, wrote (June 26) this past week about the silence prevailing on the Israeli left in the face of Palestinian terror attacks against Jews in the territories. In his column, entitled, ?The Good People Are Silent?, Shavit wrote as follows:
?It will be difficult to forget this silence. For several months now, on almost a daily basis, Israeli citizens who live beyond the Green Line are being murdered by the historic allies of the Israeli peace movement, yet that movement is silent. Here and there its members might mumble a word or two expressing their condolences. Here and there they might make a weak-kneed appeal to Palestinian Authority Chairman Yasser Arafat. However, essentially, they are silent. In the deepest sense, they are silent. They see their allies shooting at point-blank range at Israelis and yet they are silent? it is an unforgivable silence. It is a blood-chilling silence and it raises the question whether what has been marketed here for the past few decades as humanist liberalism was really what it purported to be; whether what has been presented here as the hallowed value of universalism was not in fact only an extremely particularist value that was intended to serve the specific needs of a specific cult of enlightened human beings.?
Shavit concludes by saying that such silence strips its practitioners of their moral authority. Shavit?s point is an excellent one, and we all need to take it to heart, even if it was directed at only a particular segment of Israeli society. For each of us has a responsibility to speak out against the murder of Jews. Each of us has the ability to write to a congressman, a Knesset member or some other elected representative. Each of us can raise our voice in prayer on behalf of our brethren, and plead for an end to their suffering. Like Aaron, each of us sees the staff being raised in the air ? the question now is whether we will act to stop it before it strikes again.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
An Occasional Series by Michael Freund of Raanana, Israel
Comments/Feedback/Subscribe: parsha_sheet@hotmail.com
