The Jewish national pastime, we all know, is kvetching. We are world-class complainers, going way back. Our sedra discusses at length the mit'o'n'nim, who griped about the hardships of the desert, the need to fight in battle, the lack of meat and the banality of the Manna.
Yet, with all the complaining, there was a certain under-lying logic to their unrest. The Torah introduces this section by saying that the people "Hit'avu ta'ava" - "desired a desire." Let's explore what this strange phrase means.
The people say: "We fondly remember the fish we ate in Egypt; the onion, the garlic, the leeks and cucumbers. But now our souls are dried up; we have nothing to look at except this Manna!" (11:5-6) This is puzzling, since the Manna could assume any taste that one desired. So, how could anyone ever tire of it?
The answer lies in the essential nature of a human being. We are a people of emotions, feelings, drives. We Jews, especially, are passionate about almost everything in life. The Manna, though it was a heavenly, perfect food, lacked visual diversity, spice and sauce. We ate the Manna, but something was missing; it wasn't 'geshmakt' (tasty). It - like us - needed to be spiced up, to have an earthy, earthly quality to it. Wafers and sprouts and carrot juice are fine and good, but every once in a while, we want meat (or a salmon steak or a Spanish omelet, if you like).
Thus, the people complained that their human nature was being suppressed. Not only in cuisine, but also in sexual matters (they were now, after Matan Torah and much more limited in whom they could marry, and they had to keep Taharat Hamishpacha), and even in attire (wearing the same clothes day after day).
Passion, it is true, can lure us into sin, but it can also be our greatest incentive: Passion makes for great romance and inspires great teachers; passionate indignation spurs our fight for justice; passionate zealotry powered our return to Israel and keeps us here even in tough times. The Yezer Hara (Evil Inclination) is a formidable foe, but when it was temporarily subdued, says the Gemara, "chickens stopped laying eggs" and people became listless. Without desire, we stopped caring and stopped trying; we simply lost our chayshek (desire). Productivity and creativity took a nosedive.
So, Hashem hears the people. He has Moshe appoint 70 z'kanim (elders), who have real, human desires (unlike Moshe, who could go 40 days without eating and separated from his wife) and can better relate to the masses. He also sends us meat to eat. Yet He warns us to eat in moderation, for those who "stuff themselves," who let their passions rule them instead of rile them up, will pay a heavy price indeed.
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Rabbi Weiss is Director of the Jewish Outreach Center in Ra?anana.
Yet, with all the complaining, there was a certain under-lying logic to their unrest. The Torah introduces this section by saying that the people "Hit'avu ta'ava" - "desired a desire." Let's explore what this strange phrase means.
The people say: "We fondly remember the fish we ate in Egypt; the onion, the garlic, the leeks and cucumbers. But now our souls are dried up; we have nothing to look at except this Manna!" (11:5-6) This is puzzling, since the Manna could assume any taste that one desired. So, how could anyone ever tire of it?
The answer lies in the essential nature of a human being. We are a people of emotions, feelings, drives. We Jews, especially, are passionate about almost everything in life. The Manna, though it was a heavenly, perfect food, lacked visual diversity, spice and sauce. We ate the Manna, but something was missing; it wasn't 'geshmakt' (tasty). It - like us - needed to be spiced up, to have an earthy, earthly quality to it. Wafers and sprouts and carrot juice are fine and good, but every once in a while, we want meat (or a salmon steak or a Spanish omelet, if you like).
Thus, the people complained that their human nature was being suppressed. Not only in cuisine, but also in sexual matters (they were now, after Matan Torah and much more limited in whom they could marry, and they had to keep Taharat Hamishpacha), and even in attire (wearing the same clothes day after day).
Passion, it is true, can lure us into sin, but it can also be our greatest incentive: Passion makes for great romance and inspires great teachers; passionate indignation spurs our fight for justice; passionate zealotry powered our return to Israel and keeps us here even in tough times. The Yezer Hara (Evil Inclination) is a formidable foe, but when it was temporarily subdued, says the Gemara, "chickens stopped laying eggs" and people became listless. Without desire, we stopped caring and stopped trying; we simply lost our chayshek (desire). Productivity and creativity took a nosedive.
So, Hashem hears the people. He has Moshe appoint 70 z'kanim (elders), who have real, human desires (unlike Moshe, who could go 40 days without eating and separated from his wife) and can better relate to the masses. He also sends us meat to eat. Yet He warns us to eat in moderation, for those who "stuff themselves," who let their passions rule them instead of rile them up, will pay a heavy price indeed.
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Rabbi Weiss is Director of the Jewish Outreach Center in Ra?anana.