Posted on 06/29/23
With the death of Miriam, the miraculous well that traveled with the Children of Israel and provided them abundant and sweet water, suddenly ceased to flow.
The people are stunned and immediately gather and protest to Moshe.
"If only we had perished as our brethren perished before G-d! Why have you brought the congregation of G-d to this wilderness to die there, we and our animals? And why did you bring us up from Egypt to bring us to this evil place? — not a place of seed, or fig, or grape, or pomegranate; and there is no water to drink?"
Facing the life-threatening loss of water, what significance is there in their bemoaning the paucity of figs, grapes, and pomegranates? Furthermore, there is no evidence they were ever provided with these fruits during their forty-year sojourn. Why bring that up now?
The Maharam Shik, Rav Moshe Shick — illustrious 19th century Hungarian rabbinic figure and prized disciple of the Chasam Sofer, who carried the battled of his beloved teacher against the Neologs who sought to institute religious reform — offers a very creative and profound interpretation of their plaint. (חי' אגדות מהר"ם שיק עמ"ס אבות)
Among the plethora of items that G-d created in this magnificent world there are two categories — necessities, and nonessentials.
Bread and water are essential for survival, delicious fruits are not, and are simply a luxury. These perks were generously created to provide comfort and peace of mind. When we have all our 'needs' met, the provision of these extras is not as critically necessary. But in times of scarcity of essential items having these extras can help us in enduring times of difficulty, maintaining emotional health and balance in not being overwhelmed by the pain of loss.
When they realized that they would now face deprivation of vital water, they not only worried how long they could survive physically in its absence, but they also expressed concern that with the lack of 'comfort' foods, they would quickly descend to depression or worse.
It was never about the fruit per se, as evident in G-d's responding to provide them once again with water alone. Once they had their 'needs' met they no longer sought the pain reliever of luxurious food.
The Maharam Shik goes on to assert that if this mechanism was embedded into nature for the benefit of our physical well-being, how much more so must there be a parallel in matters of our spirit — our soul.
There are powerful instincts we possess, such as the quest for healthy joy and mirth that buoys our healthy fulfillment of mitzvos, and the drives for pleasure that prod us to sustain ourselves and promote new life, bringing children into the world. But these urges are extremely dangerous as they can lead to sin as Rabbi Akiva in Pirkei Avos succinctly warns, Merriment and frivolity accustom one to licentiousness. (3 13)
Although these forces that were wired into our being are 'necessities' for a world to exist, but there must be an equalizing agent that was created to temper these drives so that we can maintain our spiritual equilibrium and not be overwhelmed by these 'painful' forces that too often devour us.
The antidote, he suggests, are the four 'fences' Rabbi Akiva goes on to delineate, that protect us and enable us to healthily equalize these drives.
Tradition is a fence to the Torah; Tithes a fence to wealth; Vows a fence to abstinence; A fence to wisdom is silence.
Our identifying with an unbroken 'tradition' of dignified greatness, built upon a foundation of values and goals that distinguish us throughout history as being cut from a very different cloth, empowers us to overcome even the most powerful physical urges.
The quest for wealth and power, that often fuels blind ambition permitting us to selflessly trample upon others, is quelled by engaging in acts of benevolence. 'Tithing' our time, energy, and resources, awakens within us the legacy of selflessness we have been bequeathed by our patriarchs.
When we courageously 'vow' to refrain from what is most instinctive to us, we arouse our heritage of the ultimate display of true power — self-control — and the exquisite inner joy it evokes within each one of us when we exercise it.
When our impulsive corporeal drives blind our minds from better judgment, thoughtful and deliberate 'silence' — a return to mindfulness, quickly douses the fires of passion that would otherwise consume us.
The Sefer, Gan Raveh, suggests that the sudden request for fruits at this juncture was because while the Well of Miriam was extant those who drank from its waters would be cured from illness. The Midrash quotes a particular incident regarding a blind man specifically who drank its waters and began to see. Rabbi Akiva states that a Torah scholar should not inhabit a city that has no fruits because fruits are מאירין את העינים — enlighten one's eyes. With the sudden loss of the curative waters, they thus begged for fruit so that it may fill the void. (מדרש רבה סוף קרח, סנהדרין יז.)
Perhaps blindness here refers to our sinking into the darkness of despair when we face seemingly insurmountable challenges. The fruits that enlighten, are the luxuries G-d's provides, that lift our spirits enabling us to remain positive, as the Maharam Shik taught.
But as the Maharam Shik asserts, it is a double-edged reality, the physical and spiritual worlds mirror each other in possessing this tool for survival.
If we utilize the four fences in warding off the painful and dangerous exposure to our unleashed instincts, then we can merit to partake of the physical fruits that assist us in not sinking in despair.
When Moshe smote the rock, condemning them as rebellious people, the Rambam explains, he was being held accountable for overreacting with anger. He allowed his 'instinct' to blind him, rather than taking refuge behind the fences that Rabbi Akiva outlined.
He was thus withheld, measure for measure, from being privileged to partake from the 'fruits' of the land, that cure blindness by 'illuminating' our eyes.
G-d provided us with these accessible shelters to protect us from the crass world we engage in.
We can find a comfortable distance if we are simply willing to stand behind these mighty fences.
If we succeed, we will all deserve to return to our land and eat its delicious fruits!
באהבה,
צבי יהודה טייכמאן