Parshas Beha’aloscha 5783
The house looked so much more appealing on AirBNB. You don’t even need to set foot inside before realizing that the pictures posted online must have been from years ago and bear no resemblance to the home in its current state. But a perusal of the agreement you signed indicates that you’re stuck. Already paid in full, no refunds, this is home for the next two weeks. You may resign yourself to staying put. But every night, as the loose spring from the mattress bores into your back, you’ll be counting the days until you can sleep in a more comfy bad, among walls that don’t smell quite so much like mold.
:וּבְהַאֲרִיךְ הֶעָנָן עַל הַמִּשְׁכָּן יָמִים רַבִּים וְשָׁמְרוּ בְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל אֶת מִשְׁמֶרֶת ה׳ וְלֹא יִסָּעוּ
(במדבר ט:יט)
When the cloud lingered over the Mishkan many days, the Children of Israel observed Hashem’s mandate and did not journey on.
Bamidbar 9:19
The Ramban explains that this pasuk refers to arriving at a destination not unlike the one described above. Not always was the nation ushered towards an idyllic oasis to set up camp and erect the Mishkan. There were stops throughout the wilderness that were far from pleasant. But the people abided by Hashem’s insistence to stay wherever He so guided them, and did not journey on until the cloud departed from upon the Mishkan.
The Panim Yafos, Rav Pinchas Horowitz, notes something unusual about this pasuk, grammatically speaking. Though the verse describes the activity of the Jewish People as it already happened in the past, the Hebrew word for “journeying” is conjugated in the future tense. It would seem that the pasuk would be more correctly translated as “it will not journey on,” rather than “it did not journey on.” How do we make sense of this awkward use of language?
Rav Horowitz points to perhaps the most famous parallel instance in the Torah, when Moshe led the nation in exultant song following the splitting of the Yam Suf. The words of the Shirah are introduced with the words, “Az Yashir Moshe,” typically translated as, “Then Moshe sang”. But here again the future tense is used, connoting strangely that Moshe will sing at some point in the future.
Rashi explains that what is being described is the impetus to sing. The thought, idea, desire to sing is conveyed through the change in tense. The Torah is emphasizing not only that Moshe sang, but that it occurred to him to sing. That he recognized that the moment called for calling out to Hashem in joyous song and led the nation in the same.
Rav Horowitz suggests that the Torah has the same intention in speaking of the people’s travel—or lack thereof—by using the future tense. It’s not only that the people didn’t travel, it’s that they didn’t even think of traveling. Despite the uncomfortable conditions of some of the stations of the wilderness, they gave no thought to travel until Hashem gave them the go ahead. No mental space was afforded to being in a different location so long as nothing could be done about making those thoughts a reality.
This may seem like rather unimpressive praise. Why would the people waste their time longing for something that could not come to fruition? Why spend time ruminating over something if nothing can presently be done about it?
Indeed. And yet we all do. I often marvel at where my own thoughts end up right in the middle of a Shemoneh Esrei. Things I need to take care of over the course of the day. My to-do list, errands I need to run, and what I’m going to eat for lunch. And what happens at the end of a Shemoneh Esrei marked by those thoughts and ruminations? I’m no closer to accomplishing any of those tasks, and I’ve wasted the opportunity to connect to Hashem in tefilah.
How do we move away from that state and closer to one of “לא יסעו,” of not even thinking about traveling elsewhere? How do we live in and utilize the present moment, rather than squander it on meaningless worrying about the future?
To be sure, one portion is bitachon—trusting that Hashem is in control and that our own ability to shape and mold our lives and the world around us is severely limited. Hashem has our backs and it’s unlikely that He’s interested in rewarding distracted davening, distracted time with our family, and distracted Torah study with greater support and Providence. If there’s a moment Hashem wants us to be in, we need to remember to be in it fully. He’ll cover the rest.
And even when it comes to our own agency, it’s worth stepping outside ourselves and realizing the sheer folly of distraction and meaningless worrying. If you’re busy putting your child to bed, having your head in a conference room or on a business call or in a Shabbos menu unlikely moves the needle forward in any of those endeavors in any real sort of way. But those precious moments with a child on your lap, fully connecting through Goodnight Moon and Krias Shema have at least partially been squandered.
One part is faith and trust in Hashem; the other part is faith and trust in our own inability. We are unable to bring desired scenarios into manifest reality just by thinking of and worrying about them. If I know that I’ll be busy with shacharis for the next half hour, if I know that I’ll be busy with my family until the kids are in bed, if I know I’ll be spending this evening out with my spouse, there could be no less efficient use of my time than thinking about all the things that I’ve committed to not actually doing anything about in the present moment.
The Jewish People could have spent their time fantasizing about a better location in the Midbar, but that wouldn’t have gotten them there any sooner. There are all sorts of destinations we want to arrive at in life, and we should head there when the time is right. But when the time is wrong, clearing such thoughts out of our consciousness will only help making the most of each precious moment we’re given.