Masei - Teachings From the Sages
These are the journeys of the children of Israel . . . (33:1)
The forty-two “stations” from Egypt to the Promised Land are replayed in the life of every individual Jew, as his soul journeys from its descent to earth at birth to its return to its Source.
(Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov)
These are the journeys of the children of Israel going out of the land of Mitzrayim (Egypt) . . . (33:1)
It would seem that there was only one journey which took the Jewish nation out of Egypt—their journey from Rameses to Sukkot. The other “journeys” listed in our Parshah were between points outside of the geographical borders of Egypt. Why, then, does the Torah speak of “the journeys”—in the plural—“of the children of Israel going out of the land of Mitzrayim”?
Mitzrayim, the Hebrew word for “Egypt,” means “borders” and “narrows.” On the spiritual level, the journey from Egypt is a journey from the boundaries that limit us—an exodus from the narrow straits of habit, convention and ego to the “good, broad land” of the infinite potential of our G‑dly soul.
And the journey from Mitzrayim is a perpetual one: what is expansive and uninhibited by yesterday’s standards, is narrow and confining in light of the added wisdom and new possibilities of today’s station. Thus, each of life’s “journeys” is an exodus from the land of Mitzrayim: having transcended yesterday’s limitations, we must again journey from the Mitzrayim that our present norm represents relative to our newly uncovered potential.
(Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi)
They journeyed from . . . and they camped at . . . (33:3–49)
Our chapter opens, “These are the journeys of the children of Israel.” However, it then proceeds to recount not the journeys, but the forty-two encampments at which they stopped during their sojourn in the Sinai Desert!
Yet these encampments were not ends unto themselves—only way-stations and stepping-stones to advance the nation of Israel in their goal of attaining the Promised Land. So the stops themselves are referred to as “journeys.”
The same is true of the journey of life. Pauses, interruptions and setbacks are an inadvertent part of a person’s sojourn on earth. But when everything a person does is toward the goal of attaining the “Holy Land”—the sanctification of the material world—these, too, are “journeys.” Ultimately, they are shown to have been the true motors of progression, each an impetus to the realization of one’s mission and purpose in life.
(From the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe)
Moses wrote down their goings out to their journeys, by the command of G‑d (33:2)
This is comparable to a king whose child was ill, and he took him to another place to heal him. On their return journey, the father recounted all their stations: “Here we slept,” “here we caught cold,” “here your head hurt.” By the same token, G‑d said to Moses: Recount for them all the places where it was that they had angered Me.
(Midrash Tanchuma)
“Here we slept”—at Mount Sinai, when Moses had to wake them to come receive the Torah. “Here we caught cold”—at Rephidim, where the Amalekites “cooled (your faith in G‑d) on the road.” “Here your head hurt”—when they doubted the return of their head and leader, Moses, and made the Golden Calf.
(Rabbi Abraham Mordechai of Gur)
The journey from Egypt to the Holy Land was a one-way journey: the Israelites did not physically revisit their encampments in the desert. What, then, is the significance of the “return journey” made by the king and his child in the above-cited parable by the Midrash?
As the people of Israel traveled through the desert, they experienced their forty-two encampments as interruptions, even setbacks, in their progress towards the Promised Land. But on the eve of their entry into the Holy Land, they were able to “return,” to look back upon these encampments and re-experience them in a different light: not as a people venturing from slavery toward an unknowable goal through a fearful wilderness, but as a people who, having attained their goal, could now appreciate how each way station in their journey had forged a particular part of their identity and had contributed to what and where they were today.
The great desert we each must cross in the journey of life is the product of what the Kabbalists call the tzimtzum (“constriction”): G‑d’s creation of a so-called vacuum within His all-pervading immanence, a bubble of darkness within His infinite light that allows man the choice between good and evil. For in order that our acts of goodness should be meaningful, there must also be the choice of evil.
Three conditions are necessary to create the possibility of free choice in the heart of man:
a) There must be a withdrawal of the divine light and the creation of the “vacuum” that allows the existence of evil.
b) It is not enough that evil exist; it must also be equipped with the illusion of worthiness and desirability. If evil were readily perceived for what it is—the suppression of light and life—there would be no true choice.
c) On the other hand, an absolute vacuum would shut out all possibility for choosing life. Thus the tzimtzum must be mitigated with a glow, however faint, of the divine light that empowers us to overcome darkness and death.
Therein lies the deeper significance of the three stations in the Midrash’s metaphor: “Here we slept,” “here we were cooled,” “here your head hurt.”
“Here we slept” refers to the withdrawal of the divine vitality in order to create the tzimtzum.
“Here we were cooled” refers to the mitigation of the tzimtzum with a faint glow of divine light.
And “here your head hurt” is a reference to the many contortions that cloud our minds and confuse our priorities, leading to a distorted vision of reality and misguided decisions.
All these, however, serve a single purpose: to advance us along the journey of life and to imbue the journey with meaning and worth. Today we can only reiterate to ourselves our knowledge of this truth; on the “return journey,” we shall revisit these stations and see and experience their true import.
(Lubavitcher Rebbe)
They journeyed from Etzyon Gever, and camped in the wilderness of Tzin, which is Kadesh (33:36)
Hence journeys 1 through 11 were in the first year following the Exodus, and journeys 32–42 in the fortieth year, meaning that there were 19 journeys in the intervening 38 years. According to the Midrash, 19 of these 38 years were spent in Kadesh, and the other 19 wandering through the desert.
They camped by the Jordan, from Bet HaYeshimot to Avel HaShittim in the plains of Moab (33:49)
(I.e., their camp extended from Bet HaYeshimot to Avel HaShittim.)
Rabbah bar Chana said: I have seen this place; it is three parasangs (approx. 12 miles) in extension.
(Talmud, Yoma 75b; Rashi)
You shall dispossess the inhabitants of the land, and dwell in it; for I have given you the land to possess it (33:53)
The Torah should have begun with the verse “This month shall be to you the head of months . . .” (Exodus 12:2), which is the first mitzvah commanded to the Jewish people. Why does it begin with “In the beginning G‑d created the heavens and the earth”?
So that if the nations of the world will say to the people of Israel, “You are thieves, for you have conquered the lands of seven nations,” they will reply to them: “The entire world is G‑d’s; He created it, and He gives it to whomever he desires. It was His desire to first give it to them, and by His desire it was taken from them and given to us.”
(Rashi, Genesis 1:1)
You shall appoint for you cities, to be cities of refuge for you (35:11)
The court is obligated to straighten the roads to the cities of refuge, to repair them and broaden them. They must remove all impediments and obstacles. . . . Bridges should be built [over all natural barriers], so as not to delay one who is fleeing to [the city of refuge]. The width of a road to a city of refuge should not be less than thirty-two cubits.
“Refuge,” “Refuge” was written at all crossroads, so that the murderers should recognize the way and turn there.
(Mishneh Torah, Laws Regarding Murder and the Preservation of Life 8:5)
Six cities of refuge shall they be for you (35:13)
The Torah includes six hundred and thirteen mitzvot (commandments). . . . Of these, the mitzvot that can be observed today [following the destruction of the Holy Temple and our exile from the Holy Land] number, altogether, three hundred and thirty-nine. Among these are mitzvot for which a person becomes obligated only under certain circumstances, so that it is possible that never in his lifetime will these circumstances come about and he will never have the opportunity to do them—e.g., the mitzvah to pay an employee on time. . . . The number of mitzvot that every Jew is obligated in is two hundred and seventy. . . . Many of these, however, are binding only on certain days of the year, or at certain times of the day.
There are six mitzvot whose obligation is constant, and does not depart from the person for a single moment throughout his lifetime. These are: to believe in G‑d, to avow His oneness, to renounce idolatry, to love G‑d, to fear Him, and to avoid temptation to sin. They are symbolized by the verse, “Six cities of refuge shall they be for you.”
(Sefer HaChinuch)
To flee there anyone who slays a soul unawares (35:15)
Every transgression of the divine will is a subtle form of “inadvertent murder.” “Murder,” because it disrupts the flow of vitality from the Source of Life to the soul of the transgressor; “inadvertent,” because a sinful deed is always contrary to the true will of the transgressor, who has been misled by the distortions imposed by his animal self.
For the one who spiritually “slays a soul unawares,” there have been set aside six spiritual “cities of refuge.” These are (as per the Sefer HaChinuch cited above) the “six constant mitzvot” that apply to every Jew, at all times and in all circumstances, so that they are readily accessible to one who seeks refuge from his faults and failings, whomever he might be and wherever the desire to rectify his life might strike him.
But a haven is of little use if it is inaccessible or its location is unknown. As is the case with the physical cities of refuge, it is the community’s responsibility to “straighten the roads . . . to repair them and broaden them . . . remove all impediments and obstacles” and post signs at all crossroads pointing the way to the haven of Torah.
(Lubavitcher Rebbe)
The congregation shall judge . . . and the congregation shall save . . . (35:24–25)
The Great Sanhedrin (which served as the supreme court of Torah law) consisted of seventy-one members; a minor Sanhedrin (authorized to try capital crimes), of twenty-three. . . . From where do we know that a minor Sanhedrin is of twenty-three? It is written, “And the congregation shall judge . . . and the congregation shall save.” One congregation condemns and the other congregation defends, hence we have twenty, as a “congregation” (eidah) consists of not less than ten. . . . And from where do we derive the additional three? By the implication of the text (Exodus 23:2) . . . which says that to acquit, a majority of one suffices, whereas to convict, a majority of two is required. (Thus, if ten judges vote to acquit, it would require a tribunal of 22 to convict.) And since a court cannot be of an even number, we need twenty-three.
(Talmud, Sanhedrin 2a)
He shall remain there until the death of the high priest (35:25)
Therefore, mothers of high priests were wont to provide food and raiment for them, that they should not pray for their son’s death.
Why is the high priest to blame? As they say here [in Babylon], “Toby did the jobbing and Ziggud got the slogging?” or as they say there [in the Land of Israel]: “Shechem got him a wife and Mabgai caught the knife?” Said a venerable old scholar: I heard an explanation at one of the sessional lectures of Rava, that they should have implored for divine grace for their generation, which they failed to do.
As was the case of that fellow who was devoured by a lion some three parasangs from the town where Rabbi Joshua ben Levi lived, and Elijah the prophet would not commune with Rabbi Joshua on that account for three days.
(Talmud, Makkot 11a)
For blood pollutes the land . . . in which I dwell; for I, G‑d, dwell among the children of Israel (35:33–34)
How were the Ten Commandments given? Five on one tablet and five on the second tablet. This means that “Do not murder” corresponds to “I am the L‑rd your G‑d.” The Torah is telling us that one who sheds blood, it is as if he has reduced the image of the King.
To what is this analogous? To a king of flesh and blood who entered a country and put up portraits of himself, and made statues of himself, and minted coins with his image. After a while, the people of the country overturned his portraits, broke his statues and invalidated his coins, thereby reducing the image of the king. So, too, one who sheds blood reduces the image of the King, as it is written (Genesis 9:6): “One who spills a man’s blood . . . for in the image of G‑d He made man.”
(Mechilta)
To one of the family of her father’s tribe shall she be a wife (36:8)
Said Rabbi Shimon ben Gamliel: “There never were in Israel greater days of joy than the fifteenth of Av and Yom Kippur.”
I can understand Yom Kippur, because it is a day of forgiveness and pardon, and on it the second Tablets of the Law were given; but what happened on the fifteenth of Av? Rav Judah said in the name of Shmuel: It is the day on which permission was granted to the tribes to intermarry. For it is written: “This is the thing which G‑d has commanded concerning the daughters of Tzelafchad . . .”—meaning that this ordinance shall remain in effect for this generation only.
(Talmud, Taanit 30b)