By Rabbi Yoseph Kahanov – Jax, Florida
One of the spiritual mentors of my youthful days in the Yeshiva was in the habit of repeating the following observation: “Amongst the many items that are numerated in the confession prayer, which is recited on the holy day of Yom Kippur, is ‘The sins which we have committed before You with the evil inclination.’” “But”, he would muse, “Aren’t all sins committed with the Yetzer Hara – evil inclination? Surely no sins are committed with the ‘Good inclination.’”
He would then offer the following rejoinder: “’The sins which we have committed before You with the evil inclination’ refers not to the sins which the evil inclination manages to drag us into, but rather to the sins into which we manage to drag our evil inclination.”
Sometimes the Yetzer Hara lies dormant and does not bother us, yet we go ahead and agitate it: “Nu what’s the matter with you, wouldn’t this or that indulgence be pleasurable, come on, get to work!”
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What if I were to tell you that there were tens of thousands; perhaps hundreds of thousands, of fully grown adults, loitering somewhere, weeping – crying bitterly because they have not had any beef in a long time and they are very hungry for beef? Most likely you would think that I’m kidding, or that there is something amiss.
It so happens that this strange scenario is more than a hypothetical construct, or a quiz to test your reaction. It is actually a historical phenomenon that occurred with our very own ancestors in the desert on their way to the Promised Land, upon their liberation from Egyptian bondage: “The rabble that was among them cultivated a craving, and the Children of Israel also wept and said, ‘Who will feed us meat?” (Numbers 11:4).
There is indeed a whole lot amiss regarding this incident, and not just the fact that adults usually do not cry over missed beef, even if they haven’t had a good steak in a long time and miss it very badly.
Our Parsha, Beha’aloscha, goes on to relate how the Israelites agitated over what they now defined as a better time in a better place. They romanticized over the good old days — in Egypt of all places! They lamented bitterly about their boring fare; the manna: “And thus the men complained ‘we remember the fish that we would eat in Egypt free of charge; and the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions, and garlic. But now, our life is parched, there is nothing; we have nothing to anticipate but the manna!’” (Numbers 11:5-6)
Yet, upon reflection, this whole story makes no sense, not only because the people seemed to be way over reacting to their meat crisis, the entire episode seems riddled with questions and inconsistencies from top to bottom.
The notion that they had “free fish” is ludicrous. Since when, as the Talmud notes, was anything free in the land of slavery? Straw for bricks was not even provided for them, how could they have possibly convinced themselves that they had free fish?
And what did they have against the delightful manna that rained down faithfully from heaven day after day, in order to sustain them in a barren desert? The manna, we are taught, not only provided them with the necessary nutrition, it furthermore had the miraculous ability to transform into a palette of delicacies, merely on the whim of its consumer. How could anyone ask for more?
Even more perplexing is Moshe’s reaction to all this. Whereas in other instances, which appear to have been far graver, such as the sin of the golden calf, Moshe goes to bat on behalf of the Children of Israel, even at great risk to his own relationship with G-d, here he tends to lose his patience with them. Instead of defending them he appears to give up on them.
Most curious of all is why the Torah includes this embarrassing episode as part of its narrative. The Torah is surely not in the habit of repeating Lashon Horah. Why is it important for us to know about the Israelites’ embarrassing and unbecoming conduct?
The obvious answer is because therein lie important psychological and sociological lessons, lessons that pertain to all of mankind in all of time. Most notable is the notion that we are not always honest with ourselves and others about what truly irks us; what really lies behind our grumbling and our kvetching.
The Talmud asserts that when the Israelites romanticized about the “free” food that they enjoyed in the land of Egypt, they were actually alluding to something entirely different. They were lamenting the fact that in Egypt their food was entirely free from Mitzvos, commandments, and that now they were confined and restricted by G-dly rules and commands.
Rashi likewise asserts, in reference to the verse that states: “Moshe heard the people weeping ‘in their family groups,’ each one at the entrance of his tent.” According to the sages the “family” signifies the underlining reason for their complaints: They were frustrated by family laws that regulated permissible relationships. In other words they felt frustrated and restricted by the laws of morality and family.
Only a short time had elapsed since the Jewish nation left behind the trepidations and spiritual handcuffs of Egypt and experienced the most significant Divine encounter and transformation in history at Mount Sinai. Everything was perfectly poised for redemption. The Jewish nation was marvelously structured, with each of the tribes in place boasting its own flag and distinctive banner and the Sanctuary at the center.
Everything was ready for the conquest of the Promised Land of Israel. An army was in place, the Kohanim were prepared to serve and the Levites were filled with song. But then began the deterioration and downward spiral resulting in a series of rebellions and the condemnation of the entire generation that left Egypt.
They had only begun the remarkable journey away from the farshmekte fish of Egypt’s shores, into the spiritual crucible of the wilderness where they accepted the privilege of the Divine way of life, and have already regressed. What happened and why?
It all began in chapter eleven (pun intended) of our Parsha: “And the people took to seeking complaints.” It is fascinating that the Torah does not ascribe a reason for their complaints. There are complaints that are triggered by legitimate causes, justified or not, but there are also a form of complaints that have no legitimate cause, Kvetching for the sake of Kvetching. The complainer is himself not sure as to why he’s complaining. The unique word the Torah uses for this syndrome is Misoninim. It is the only time this word is found in the Torah.
An amazing lesson can be derived from this incident: No matter how good things may be, it is human nature to get tired and seek something else; something different. Just because you have it all doesn’t mean you have happiness. Happiness and contentment is a skill unto itself that must be developed and cultivated, we must not fall prey to the “Kvetching Syndrome” that the Torah identifies in our Parsha.
The Jewish people had it all when they left Egypt, they had great hope and great excitement. At Mount Sinai they were inspired and invigorated. They had purpose and they had mission as they declared: “We shall do and we shall hear!” But then they just lost it all. They were stricken by the Misoninim Syndrome and allowed themselves to get distracted.
With this narrative the Torah teaches that to have it all and have it right is not enough, we must know how to remain inspired, and how to hold onto it.
May we take to heart the lesson of this Parsha and apply it well, by doing so we will surely hasten the era of Moshiach, may it be speedily in our time.
