Bamidbar: A Spiritual Lesson From the Midbar

May 18

Original author - Rabbi Jack Bieler, edited by the GrowTorah Summer Inchworms 2021-2022

The midbar, the setting of most of the books of the Torah, is introduced at the beginning of this week’s parsha, Parshat Bamidbar—meaning, “in the wilderness”. In Sefer Bereishit we learned that the midbar is a challenging place for humans to live, it almost claims the life of Yishmael, Avraham’s son, and seemingly causes him to become a hunter. The Torah’s implication is that the wilderness attracts those consigned to its bleak landscape to live an outlaw, and even criminal, existence.[1] On the other hand, the midbar must have positive associations as well, since many of the Torah’s main narratives are set in the midbar: Moshe first talks to Hashem; Bnei Yisrael receive the Torah; they then spend 40 years sojourning through the wilderness. Based on these stories, it appears that this challenging space is essential for, and in many ways supportive of, nation-building.

It is in the wilderness that Moshe first encounters Hashem. While shepherding his father-in-law’s sheep, Moshe goes “achar ha-midbar,” to the farthest outskirts.[2] R. Ovadia Sforno[3] explains that Moshe was spiritually motivated to go there:

“…And he came to the mountain of Hashem...”—he alone, to experience personal solitude and to pray on the way...”[4][5]

The quiet of the midbar provides a sense of peace and privacy conducive to prayer. Moshe purposely seeks it out because he senses that there lies a unique opportunity to connect with Hashem.

Similarly, we see earlier in the Torah that Yitzchak chooses a quiet place in nature when he wants to pray: “Vayeitzei Yitzchak lasuach basadeh”—“and Yitzchak went out to the field to converse.”[6] Sforno explains, “[Yitzchak] turned aside from the road in order to pour out his conversation before Hashem in the field so that travelers upon the road would not interrupt him…” [7]. Although not quite making it to the midbar, Yitzchak too felt that it was important to seek out a place of solitude to truly connect, through prayer, to Hashem.

Moshe continues this search for solitude during prayer in Mitzrayim. When asked repeatedly by Pharaoh to pray to Hashem to remove many of the terrifying plagues, Moshe refuses to pray where he is, insisting that he must leave the city in order to pray:

“And Moshe said to [Pharaoh]: When I leave the city, I will extend my palms to Hashem [in prayer]…” [8]
“And Moshe went out from Pharoah, leaving the city, and he extended his palms…” [9]

Rashi[10] comments—“But within the city, he did not pray, because it was full of idols.”[11]

Based on Yitzchak and Moshe’s earlier prayer experiences, it is reasonable to assume that Moshe was not only looking to separate himself from idols, but also from those who worshiped them; in other words, to find an undisturbed place where he could communicate with Hashem.

The importance of solitude when interacting with the Divine is not reserved for prayer alone. When giving Bnei Yisrael the Torah, Hashem chose a mountain in the midbar, away from a myriad of distractions that could have prevented the people and their prophet from appreciating the magnitude of the Divine Revelation. The wilderness created an atmosphere that enabled Bnei Yisrael to fully accept and understand the obligations of living according to Hashem’s Law.

The Midrash draws upon another aspect of the midbar that caused it to be the site of matan Torah:

“Why [was the Torah given] in the midbar? Anyone who does not make himself hefker (ownerless) like the midbar, cannot acquire the Torah.”[12]

The midbar, explains the midrash, is owned by no one. Similarly, for an individual to “receive” the Torah they must make themself hefker, or ownerless. An individual who is “full of themself” will have difficulty accepting and following the directives of Hashem. A truly spiritual individual must have a degree of anavah, of humility. Being in the wilderness heightens an individual’s awareness of the reality that their existence is insignificant when compared to the magnificent scale of creation. When explaining how one can come to love and fear Hashem, the Rambam [11] draws upon this idea. Through natural settings, one not only comes to love Hashem but also develops a sense of humility, which leads to awe and fear:

“And what is the way to love Him and fear Him? When a person reflects upon His actions and His great and wondrous creations and he sees within them His wisdom that is beyond comprehension, he immediately becomes filled with love, praise, and exaltation and is consumed with an overwhelming passion to know the great Hashem…
But when he thinks further about these very things themselves, immediately he trembles, stumbles backwards and is terrified, and he realizes that he is a tiny, lowly, insignificant creature standing with an inferior intellect before the Perfect Intellect…” [13]

By experiencing the wilderness, a person can be filled with both an overwhelming love for Hashem and a recognition of their own limited and finite capabilities, in contrast to Hashem’s infinite intellect and wisdom-filled creations.

Humility is a prerequisite for accepting the Torah and fulfilling its commandments. Moshe, the intermediary who gave us the Torah, is described as “anav me’od mi-kol ha-adam asher al penei ha-adama,” the most extremely humble individual on the face of the earth.[15] Even Har Sinai, upon which Hashem gave us the Torah, is categorized as the lowest of mountains.[16] The lowliness that the Jews experienced in Mitzrayim and that sense of humility felt in the wilderness was essential to their ultimate recognition of Hashem and their acceptance of His laws.

Following in the footsteps of those redeemed from the bondage of Mitzrayim, let us attempt to reconnect with the open spaces of the wilderness and seek, in their natural state, a source of awakening to the Mastery of Hashem. Let us become a little more “ownerless” from the material world such that we can access the clear inspiration of the Divine in the world all around us.

Suggested Action Items:

Reconnect with a wilderness or other natural setting that is accessible to you, such as a forest or a body of water. Keep in mind the lessons mentioned here about one’s minute place in the grand creation.
Take steps to help preserve a natural setting near you. You can contribute your time or money to clean-up projects of nearby mountains, lakes, or forests, or you can remind yourself and others to hike responsibly, by not damaging the valuable habitat you visit.

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Notes:

[1] Bereisheit 21:14-16, 20-21

[2] Shemot 3:1

[3] Italy, 15th-16th cent. Discussing the same passage quoted above.

[4] Sforno’s last line is: “...with the same linguistic connotation of (Bamidbar 13:22) “And [Calev] came to Chevron…” In order to explain why one of the spies apparently went off alone to Chevron (Bamidbar 13:22 begins with a plural verb “va-ya’alu”, only to be followed two words later by a singular verb “va-yavo”), Sota 34b, quoted by Rashi, explains that “And he came…” is referring to Calev who went off by himself in order to draw inspiration from the burial place of the forefathers and foremothers so that he will not be corrupted by his sinful colleagues. Similarly, the word “va-yavo” here with Moshe indicates that Moshe went off to the desert, to the mountain of Hashem, to meditate alone and daven to Hashem.

[6] Dr. Irving Agus, Za”L, a college Jewish history professor of mine, memorably remarked that the role of shepherd, which did not usually involve excessive physical exertion, afforded an individual a great deal of time to sit and reflect while he was overseeing the herds. Shepherding was therefore ideally suited for the development of iconoclastic theological thought. Many of the key founding figures of Judaism—Yaakov and his sons, Moshe, and David—are consistently described as shepherds. In contrast to farmers, who have so much to do on a daily basis that they are in need of an entire year off, i.e., the Sabbatical Year, in order to deepen their spiritual dimensions, shepherds can engage in such speculations for several hours each day. The tension between shepherds and farmers is played out almost from the beginning of the Torah’s account of human civilization, with the story of Kayin and Hevel in Bereisheit 4.

[6] Bereisheit 24:63

[7] Sforno on Bereisheit 24:63

[8] Shemot 9:29

[9] Ibid. 33

[10] Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, France, 11th Cent.

[11] Rashi on Shemot 9:29, similarly see Rashi on Shemot 12:1

[12] Bamidbar Rabbah 1:7; Tanchuma Parshat Bamidbar #6. Biblical commentators always take note when the language of the Torah digresses from its normal patterns. Throughout the Bible, we encounter countless cases where a message from Hashem to Moshe is introduced by “And Hashem spoke to Moshe saying”. Since the phrase Bamidbar Sinai (in the desert of Sinai) is added in Bamidbar 1:1, it is understood by the Rabbis as providing a paradigm for all of the Revelations to Moshe, i.e., that they specifically and deliberately occurred in the desert of Sinai. A similar instance is the commentary that surrounds Vayikra 25:1, when the phrase Behar Sinai (the mountain of Sinai) is atypically inserted.

[13] Rabbi Moshe Ben Maimon, 12th century scholar, doctor, and philosopher in Spain and Egypt.

[14] Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Yesodei HaTorah 2:2

[15] Bamidbar 12:3

[16] See Babylonian Talmud Sotah 5a.