On the twentieth day of the month of Iyar — after encamping at the base of Mount Sinai for nearly a year — the nation was instructed to begin their journey towards the promised land.
They journeyed from the Mountain of Hashem… (במדבר י לג)
The mountain we received the Torah on is alternately referred to as Mount Sinai, Mount Chorev, or the Mountain of Elokim — G-d, but never Har Hashem. Har Hashem is used solely in reference to the Temple Mount — Har HaMoriah.
The Ramban facing this dilemma therefore interprets — based on the Midrash — that this description is not simply naming the place of departure, but rather intimating that they 'fled like a child fleeing from school with joy, from the mountain where G-d appeared, lest He increase the number of commandments upon them!'
This failing was the first in a series of sins the nation succumbed to.
After this episode they 'complained' about their venturing into a desolate and unknown wilderness, wondering how they could possibly survive. G-d's wrath flared, and a plague consumed them at the edge of the camp.
After Moshe interceded on their behalf the fires calmed.
After this the 'rabble' rousers complained how their diet was insufficient. Demeaning the marvelous manna, they pined for meat, alleging that their situation in Egypt was preferable over their fate in the desert. G-d indulged them by providing them with a month's supply of meat, with the instigators dying while the meat was still between their teeth.
After the report of the first sin of fleeing with joy from the mountain of G-d, the Torah inserts a two sentence paragraph, seemingly unrelated to the subject at hand, as if to symbolically stifle this developing pattern of ill behavior.
The verses which should have appeared fifty paragraphs earlier in the narrative of tribal formations, was relocated here to break the recording of three successive sins.
These verses which we recite when we remove and return the Torah from the Ark in a plea to G-d that as we journey, we should be protected from all our foes and those who hate us, so that the Divine Presence may reside tranquilly in our midst.
What message is there in this small paragraph that addresses the descent into patterns of sin?
What was so grave about our fleeing with glee that led to the other two subsequent sins?
A child runs out of school as soon as the bell rings. Is that an indication of his dissatisfaction with his teachers? Certainly not!
School for children is the first time they encounter daily restrictions. I must sit here; not go there; get permission to go to the bathroom; control my speech; eat when designated to, and on and on.
A child wants to roam and explore, to feel free to express oneself, and to play and enjoy. When school ends, despite the exciting accomplishments of the day, the instincts of a child erupt joyfully, not necessarily because they'd rather not learn, but simply to be unshackled from being controlled.
That is all well and fine with a child. He hasn't matured enough to understand the value of learning and the power inherent within it. But when we as a nation experienced the greatest thrill in the world — G-d's revelation at Sinai, we must never compartmentalize that accomplishment and place it aside so that we may nourish our instinct for 'freedom'. We must long for those moments of connection through Torah that bonds us with the Divine and reluctantly leave those moments of embrace to attend to the physical needs in our journey of life that we must engage in to survive on this earth.
They lapsed in this consciousness, eagerly looking forward to traveling and settling in the promised land, and too quickly forgot the delight in remaining in the school of Sinai, where the pleasure of engaging in Torah represents the greatest and ultimate freedom for our Neshamos — our souls.
There is no greater joy. Nothing compares.
When we allow instinct to roam free, then the moment we encounter difficulty we complain, the moment we sense hunger we seek resolve, forgetting that each challenge is an opportunity to discover G-d more deeply.
This pattern of submitting to instinct began subtly, where disguised in our desire to settle in the promised land, we forgot the greater joy contained in our proximity to Hashem in the Bais Medrash of Sinai. From there we unleashed more basic instincts permitting ourselves to lose sight of who we truly are.
Rabbi Shmuel Eliezer HaLevi Eidels, the renowned 16th century Talmudist known as the Maharsha, writes in his Chidushei Aggados, that the foes we refer to in the two-sentence prayer, refers to those unlearned in the ways of Torah who establish בתי כנסת — Houses of Gathering, but are empty of aspiration for greatness and growth, dutifully fulfilling the yoke of devotion to G-d in prayer, but shirking the yoke of greatness inherent in devotion to Torah study. The 'haters' are those who are otherwise learned, having absorbed Torah, but have aligned themselves with those who seek the easier path of less resistance in serving Hashem.Hashem
We beg to restore the Divine Presence beseeching of G-d, to scatter these negative influences in our lives.
We are facing a growing number of enemies and haters who seek our utter destruction and disappearance from their lives. These are imaginary adversaries easily manipulated by G-d as He pleases. They are representations of our inner foes that prevent us from actualizing true freedom and absolute joy.
The day we conquer our internal foes is the day our illusory physical enemies will be disappear into thin air.
Arise, Hashem, and let Your foes be scattered, let those who hate You flee from before You!
Reside tranquilly, O, Hashem, among the myriad thousands of Israel.
באהבה,
צבי יהודה טייכמאן
