Near the top of my life’s to-do list
is to take a road trip to the Southwest of the United States. I’ve never been out that way, or seen that
part of the country. I’ve always wanted
to see the Grand Canyon, and I love the desert.
I’m not sure what it is about a desert, maybe it’s the vastness. Maybe it’s the openness. There’s a sense of infinity and a sense of
minuteness. There’s a sense of timelessness
and a sense of eternity. There’s a sense
that I’m as far from where I’ve come as I can be, and as far as I will be to my
destination. The Jewish people have a
special relationship with the midbar, the wilderness, the space and time
in between where we’ve been and where we’re going, when we’re neither here nor
there. But it is on those journeys and
in the midst of the wilderness that we become who we are.
Our relationship with the wilderness starts all the way back with
Abraham who is called by God to go from his land, from his family to the place
that God will show him.[1] We don’t read much of Abraham’s journey in
the Torah. He’s asked by God to go; and
next thing we read, Abraham’s in Canaan.
Abraham had to truly trust God to embark on a journey unsure of where he
was going and what he would find when he got there. And when he does get there, he is named for
his journey, not for where he comes from.
Abraham is called a Hebrew, and this comes from the word Ivri,
which means one who has traversed or passed over. In our identity with Abraham, we are always
on a journey. We don’t know a lot about
what happened to Abraham and what he encountered along the way, we do know that
it is his journey that defines him.
What the Midrash[2]
teaches us is that Abraham has to leave because there is nothing left for him
where he comes from. He is harassed for
believing in the one God and so must begin a journey to find his homeland. And it is that journey which makes him who he
is.
But it’s not just Abraham who derives meaning from the
wilderness. His grandson, Jacob
encounters God twice in the wilderness, once fleeing his home, and once on his
way back. Jacob flees after stealing his
brother Esau’s blessing and his birthright.
On the way, he has the famous vision of the ladder reaching from the
ground to the heavens with angels going up and down. God promises Jacob a few things at this
moment. God says: “Remember, I am with
you: I will protect you wherever you go and will bring you back to this land. I
will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you. Jacob awoke from his sleep and said, ‘Surely
Adonai is present in this place, and I did not know it!’”[3] It is in the desert that Jacob comes to
experience God’s presence and comes to understand God’s promise of protection
and commitment to the generations. Jacob
continues, shaken: “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the
abode of God, and that is the gateway to heaven.”[4] Jacob then anoints the place with oil and
names it Beit-El, God’s house.
But that is not Jacob’s only encounter in the wilderness. Later, after his marriages and after he has
amassed great wealth, he decides it’s time to go back to Canaan and try to make
amends with his brother. He separates
his family and his possessions, fearing attack by Esau, and once again finds
himself alone in the wilderness. Out of
nowhere, a man wrestles him.
When he saw that he had not prevailed against him, he wrenched
Jacob’s hip at its socket, so that the socket of his hip was strained as he
wrestled with him. Then he said, “Let me
go, for dawn is breaking.” But he answered, “I will not let you go, unless you
bless me.” Said the other, “What is your
name?” He replied, “Jacob.” Said he,
“Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with beings
divine and human, and have prevailed.[5]
When Jacob awakes,
he again dedicates the place, this time as Peniel, meaning, “I have seen God’s
face.”
Jacob’s identity is redefined in the
wilderness. The Midrash debates who the
man in the wilderness was. Was it
God? Was it Esau? Was it an angel? Was it Jacob wrestling with himself? The Torah just says ish, a man. The vagueness is seemingly purposeful. In the midst of the wilderness, Jacob becomes
Israel after this anonymous encounter and his identity and his understanding of
God will never be the same. It is in the
wilderness that Yisrael comes to be.
We read of Moses that he drives
Jethro’s flock into the wilderness, to the midbar, and it is there that
Moses encounters God the burning bush.[6] It is there that Moses learns who he is to
become, what he is to do, how he is to be of service and what God’s name
is. It is in the wilderness that Moses
expresses who he believes he is, slow of speech, unfit for the task at
hand. But it is in the wilderness that
he learns who he will become: the leader of the people, their conduit to God,
the definer of the Covenant. And it is
in the wilderness that he does, indeed become that leader.
But it is also in the wilderness that the people Israel come into
existence. Our greatest story, the story
that makes us who we are, the story of our Exodus, from slavery in Egypt to
freedom and covenant with God in the Promised Land, is a story about the wilderness,
about the journey from one place to another.
It is in the wilderness that we meet God, at Sinai.[7] It is in the wilderness that we learn God’s
commandments. It is in the wilderness
that we learn what it means to worship God, through the holidays, festivals and
Shabbat. It is in the wilderness that we
build a home for God, the Mishkan, taking it with us wherever we
go. Three and a half of our five books
of the Torah take place exclusively in the wilderness. One of them is even titled B’Midbar, In
the Wilderness.
It is in the wilderness that the people make the greatest strides,
though it’s not always easy. They had no
idea what to expect. There are
rebellions, complaints, and challenges of authority. There are scenes of idolatry and
lechery. But there are also scenes of
great community efforts. Everyone gives
of themselves to create the Mishkan.[8] People are called in to make use of their
talents, as well as their financing. The
people willingly accept God’s commandments.
They learn to love and revere God. And they learn how to say goodbye and make way
for the next phase of the journey.
The message is clear. We are
a Midbar people, a wilderness people.
We are supposed to learn from it, encounter God in it, and define
ourselves by it. It’s in the in-between
time, the time in the wilderness that can often define whether the journey was
successful or not, not just whether we made it to our destination in one piece
and on time and under budget.
As we all know, we’re in an in-between time right now at Temple
Emanu-El. We’re in our own midbar
here in East Meadow. Like Abraham, we
know that we cannot stay where we are, but we don’t yet know where we’re
going. Like Jacob, we’re not 100% sure
what we’re up against, but we have a sense that we’re going to come out changed,
potentially with at least a different name.
Like Moses, we may not feel up to the task at hand. Do we even know what we’re doing? Like the people, we don’t even know what’s in
store! How will we do it? What will we accept willingly and what will
be our sources of strife? The journey is
far and when it’s done, it definitely won’t feel like it did where we came
from.
Entering the wilderness doesn’t mean that we have to leave
everything behind - far from it. When
Moses and the people leave Egypt, they make a point of taking Joseph’s bones
with them.[9] At the end of his life, Joseph demands on
oath that his bones be brought to the land of his ancestors.[10] Moses and the people remember this oath. They don’t toss it aside. It matters to them that Joseph-who founded
the community in Egypt, who brought the family down to sojourn there, who rose
to prominence, wealth and power-it matters to them that they follow through
with his wishes.
But they are only able to do so because of an enigmatic figure,
Serach bat Asher, whose name appears both in the genealogy of the tribes that
come down to Egypt[11]
and in the genealogy of those who left Egypt.[12] Because her name appears in lists of people
who lived more than 400 years apart, The Rabbis of old imagine Serach Bat Asher
as an immortal woman, a connection to the past.
The rabbis tell us that the evil Pharaoh had Joseph’s bones submerged
and hidden in the Nile, since he knew that the Israelites could not leave without
them.[13] Well, soon no one remembered where to find
the bones, except Serach Bat Asher. She
remembers because she was there. She
holds on to that memory and makes sure to speak up when it’s needed. The people cannot and will not leave without
their connection to the past, without upholding their oath to the community’s
founder. Serach provides the necessary
knowledge of the past.
What will be our Joseph’s bones?
What will we be sure not to leave behind? Who will we look to for those memories, so that
we are sure to remember and recall where we came from and the oaths we made to
our forefathers?
On the other hand, think of how far
we’ve come already. So many are pitching
in and giving of their considerable talents.
We have a leadership with vision, dedication, and communication. And we are a community that comes together
and comes through when asked. Above all,
we have our devotion to God and to each other.
By recognizing our place in the wilderness, we can use it to our
advantage. We don’t have to be startled
by what we encounter there if we’re ready for it. We can make it an opportunity. The wilderness, can often be the most
creative and fruitful time, offering us the ability to shape our future home,
to consider what it is we truly value that we will choose to bring with us.
There is a lot of uncertainty.
It is normal to be apprehensive.
The wilderness is scary. We don’t
know what we’re going to encounter. What
we do know is that we can use the wilderness to our advantage. William Bridges, PhD, an expert on
transition, explains that the wilderness “is not the wasted time of meaningless
waiting and confusion that it can seem to be…It is a time of reorientation and
redefinition... It is the winter during which the spring’s new growth is taking
shape under the earth.”[14] Bridges explains that it is only when we’re
in the wilderness that we are forced to brainstorm for creative solutions. It’s in the wilderness that the answers for
the origin and the destination cannot work, and so creativity abounds.[15]
God seemed to work the same way, recognizing that the in between
times, the times of transition, can be the most creatively creative. It took God 6 days to create the world. On the seventh day, God rested. But, Pirke Avot teaches us that “ten things
were created on the eve of the first Shabbat, at twilight.”[16] This term twilight, in Hebrew is bein
hashmashot, literally between the suns.
And it was understood by the rabbis of old to be a time of mystical
significance. The objects that God
creates at this time, neither day nor night, neither weekday or Shabbat, have
important significance. Pirke Avot goes
on to list the 10 things. The mouth of the Earth that swallowed Korach; the
mouth of the well of Miriam, the mouth of the donkey that spoke to Balaam; the rainbow; the mannah; Moses’ staff; the
worm that helped to build the Temple; the writing; the letters; and finally the
tablets of the Commandments. Each of
these had a purpose, and each of these has a lesson for us, challenging our
creativity through God’s most creative moment.
Each of these can push us to make our time in the midbar as creative and
rewarding as possible.
The mouth of the Earth that
swallowed Korach. Korach led a rebellion
against Moses,[17]
Aaron and the organized priesthood, demanding that he be allowed to present an
offering to God. God arranges for a
test, and Korach and his crew all present a fire to God. God causes the earth to open and all of the
rebels are swallowed. While this is not
an easy vignette in the Torah, it does show us that sometimes we need to do
away with whatever might be holding us back.
What is an impediment to our continuing the journey and fulfilling our
vision and our mission?
The Mouth of the Well. It is said that Miriam was the source of water
in the wilderness.[18] Wherever Miriam went, the Midrash teaches us,
the well followed her. This is why many
people include a Miriam’s cup on their seder tables at Passover, and why we
fill that cup with water. The mouth of
the well reminds us that sometimes it’s about perspective. It contrasts to the mouth that swallowed
Korach. Both openings in the earth are
called a mouth, pi, to show us that there is more than one way to look
at everything. Will we look at what we
have in front of us and see a curse or a blessing?
The final mouth of this group is the
mouth of Balaam’s Donkey.[19] Balaam was a Moabite diviner, sent to curse
the Israelites, when his donkey gets in his way, due to God’s
intervention. The donkey ends up
speaking to Balaam and that’s when he finally sees the angel of God. Rather than curse the people, Balaam ends up
blessing them, ultimately using words we are familiar with from the opening of
each service. “Mah Tovu, how
wonderful are your tents, O Jacob, your dwelling places O Israel!”[20] This is a blessing of community. Balaam looks upon the Israelite community and
can do nothing but bless them. How will
we devise a community worthy of blessing?
The Rainbow. God sets the rainbow in the sky as a sign
that God will not destroy the world again.[21] It is a reminder of the covenant between God
and humanity. What covenants will we
make as we move through our midbar and how will we work to renew our covenant
with God?
The Manna. God provides manna to the people to gather in
the wilderness when they have nothing else to eat.[22] God nourishes, but does so with a focus on
the individual. There are legends that
the manna tasted different to every person.
God nourishes, but does so fairly.
The Manna was available every day, except on Shabbat everyone got two
portions. On every other day, if you
gathered more than your portion, it would spoil, rot or disappear.[23] Everyone got what they needed, but it was
special for everyone. What will we gather
that nourishes our souls? How will we
work to ensure everyone is treated fairly, yet also valued for what makes them
special?
The Staff of Moses began as a simple
staff of the shepherd. It became the
conduit of the power of God. The humble
can become magnificent! But more than
that, the staff was the symbol of Moses’ authority, his role as leader of the
people. He used that staff to part the
waters at the Red Sea.[24] But he also used it to ram the rock for
water, an action which leads to his being barred from entry into the Promised
Land.[25] Who will we put into positions of authority through
this time of transition and what kind of leader will we demand that they be?
The shamir was the worm that was used to help build Solomon’s
Temple. Solomon was to build a Temple of
Peace dedicated to the one God, and so no tools that could be used for war or
bloodshed could be used in the building, which means no iron or copper tools.[26] Legend has it that this small worm, when
placed on stone, would eat through and break it open as easy as we open a
book. This worm was used to build the
holiest site, and to build it in a manner that did not desecrate its
holiness. This is a creative solution to
how to build a place to worship God.
What creative solutions will we be able to come up with for our ritual
questions as we move through the wilderness?
The writing and the letters are about the words of Torah. The Letters means the actual shape of the
letters. The Writing, according to some
commentaries, was the black fire on white fire that was the Torah as it was
handed to Moses on Sinai. The black fire
was the words. The white fire was the
space in between. You cannot have one
without the other. These two creations
from twilight are about our love of text and our tradition. How will we use our time in the wilderness to
reconnect to our sacred stories? How
will we look to them for wisdom? The White
fire is what we bring to the story. What
fire will we carry that emblazons onto our story and adds to its depth, its
meaning, and its importance?
Finally, the last thing created by God, as twilight transitioned
into the day of rest was the tablets of the 10 commandments. These tablets were inscribed with writing
that could be seen by all, from all sides, from all eyes at all times. Everyone was included. These tablets contained the most important
rules for how to live in society with others.
One group of rules for how we are to interact with God. One group for how we interact with each
other. As Yom Kippur reminds us, both of
these types of relationships take work, time, and effort. We cannot apologize to God for wrongs we have
committed against our neighbors. We are
commanded to apologize directly to those neighbors. How will we use the time in the midbar
to work to find that sense of commandedness when it comes to the most basic
ethical rules of our culture?
All these creations have significance and offer lessons on being
creative during this time in between, in the wilderness, on our journey. Whatever you want to call it, we, as a
community, are in it. How we work within
it is entirely up to us. Will we take
the opportunity that is granted to us so that the next generation may have an
easier time of it? Will we take the
opportunity that has been granted to us to emulate God in our creativity? Will we take the opportunity to recommit to
our community and see the journey through?
It is tempting to want to be at the end, just to get to the end, but
even when the Israelites make it to the border of the Promised Land, they’re
not done yet. There’s another book of
the Torah waiting, with instruction so that they are fully ready and prepared
when we step foot into the Promised Land.
Though the wilderness is wide, and can be scary and intimidating,
it is a place of deep meaning and power.
It is also a place of great creativity.
Let us embrace it together so that we may come out the other side
changed for the better!
G’mar Chatimah Tovah.
[1] After
Genesis 12
[2] Pirke
De Rabbi Eliezer, and others.
[3]
Genesis 28:15-16
[4]
Ibid 17
[5]
Ibid 32:26-29
[6] After
Exodus 3
[7] Exodus
20
[8] After
Terumah
[9]
Inspired by Bridges, William: Getting them Through the Wilderness, p 8
[10] Genesis
50:25
[11] Genesis
46:17
[12] Numbers
26:46
[13] BT
Sotah 13a, and others
[14]
Bridges, William. Managing Transition 3rd
edition p 43.
[15]
Bridges, William. Getting them Through the Wilderness, p 16
[16] Avot
5:6
[17] After
Numbers 16
[18] Commentary
to Chukkat
[19] See
Numbers 22-24
[20] Numbers
24:5
[21] See
Parshat Noach
[22] Exodus
16
[23] After
Exodus 16:20
[24] See
Exodus 14-15
[25] See
Numbers 20
[26] See
1 Kings 6:7, Sotah 48b
