Parshas Bamidbar - Chag HaShavuos 5785

ויעשו בני ישראל ככל אשר צוה ה' את משה כן חנו לדגליהם וכן נסעו איש למשפחתיו על בית אבתיו ... (ב-לד)

    In Parshas Bamidbar, we are introduced to life in the desert. It’s not exciting. It’s not glamorous. It’s not exotic travel. It’s the same cloud, the same camp, the same man - day after day. But it was also the greatest training ground in history. It’s where Hashem shaped us into His nation. And that’s what Sefer Bamidbar is all about. Desert life is not about destinations. It’s about formation. It’s about forming and forging ahead with a mission and purpose in life. We might not always know where we’re going, but if we’re with our families, with Torah, with Hashem, we’re going everywhere that counts.

Rabbi Fischel Schachter tells the following story with his signature blend of humor and heart: It was Chol Hamoed Pesach. Now, Chol Hamoed with a large family is anything but “chol.” It’s packed. It’s hectic. It’s loud. Baruch Hashem! So there I was, erev the second days, trying to survive the Pesach whirlwind when my wife - how shall I put this politely - “suggested” that I take the kids out for a while. Now, I know how this works, so I preemptively turned the request into a command to myself. I clapped my hands together and announced, “Everyone into the van! We’re going on an excursion!”

“Where?” the kids asked. “You tell me,” I said cheerfully, “where do you want to go?” That was a mistake.

The older kids groaned, “If we see the Prospect Park Zoo one more time, we’re going to turn into monkeys!” Another yelled, “Not the Aquarium again!” And then, I had a brainstorm. I quickly swerved and turned onto the Belt Parkway.

“Tatty, are we going to the airport? Are we flying somewhere?” Noon on Chol Hamoed? No, we’re not flying anywhere.

So what were we doing? We were going to the airport. Why? Because the AirTrain at JFK goes from terminal to terminal - and guess what? It’s free. You get a great view. It’s quiet. Quality time with the kids. And ... it’s free! Did I mention that?

“Listen,” I explain to the kids, “typically, you wait on line for four hours and pay twenty bucks to ride something for thirty seconds. This ride is longer and costs nothing. What more do you want?” They were skeptical. But their only alternative was going home to help their mother with the dishes, so they agreed. Suddenly, one of my kids asked loudly, “Tatty, you’re wearing your shtreimel and bekeshe ... you know, there aren’t going to be a lot of other Yidden at the airport right now.”

I retorted, “You’ve seen the way other people dress? I think we’re the least of anyone’s fashion concerns.”

And then - relief! We pull up to the platform, and what do I see? Yidden! Everywhere! Boro Park, Flatbush - we were all there. The platform was tile-to-tile covered in macaroons, orange peels, and matzah crumbs. I felt like I had just arrived at the Mirrer Yeshiva on Chol Hamoed. Baruch Hashem, I wasn’t the only one with this brilliant idea.

We boarded the AirTrain, and my kids were in heaven. They waved at every other AirTrain full of Jewish families. They were pointing at planes, giggling, clapping. It was a 10-minute loop around the airport, and we stayed on for over an hour.

At one point, the train stopped, and a man boarded. A real live pilot - wings on his uniform, rolling suitcase, the whole look. He stood there, taking it all in. You could tell he’d flown to distant war zones and survived typhoons, but this? This Chol Hamoed mob on the AirTrain? This was new. I quickly told one of my kids to give him a seat.

The pilot waved it off. “Nah, I’ve been sitting for 16 hours. I don’t need to sit anymore.”

I asked him where he flew in from. “China,” he said. Then he looked at me and asked, “Mind if I ask you something?” Whenever someone says that, you always mind - but you can’t say so. “Sure,” I said, dreading the next question.

“Are these all your kids?” I smiled. “Nah. Some are in Israel. Some are at home helping my wife.”

We started schmoozing. Then he asked, “So, Rabbi, which terminal are you heading to? Maybe I can help you find it.”

I hesitated. “Eh ... I’m not sure.” He offered to look at my ticket. I stammered, “You can’t. It’s ... an electronic ticket.”

I was spiraling. The more he asked, the deeper I was digging myself into this fictitious flight. Finally, I confessed. “To be honest, we’re not going anywhere. We’re just riding the AirTrain going around the airport. Been here about half an hour.”

There was a long pause. He looked at me confused and asked, “Why?”

“Well,” I hesitated before plunging ahead, “These kids don’t have TV at home. They don’t play computer games. They don’t even own their own phones. So it’s up to me to give them quality time, something wholesome and fun. It’s not easy finding places that meet our standards. So ... here we are.”

He nodded. Then he got real. “I fly the world. Three weeks out, one week home. Sometimes not even that. If I end a flight in Australia but live in Denver, by the time I get home, I have to head back. My wife left me years ago. My daughter sends me birthday cards out of obligation. I’m all alone.”

He paused. Then he said something I’ll never forget. “You know, Rabbi, you’re going nowhere ... but you’re really going everywhere. I’m flying all over the globe. I know exactly where I’m going. I have my itinerary for the next year and a half - departure times, arrival gates, routes, everything. But you? You’re going around in circles on a little train with your children. And you’re going somewhere. Because you have a life. You have a family.”

And with that, he walked out. I sat there with those words echoing in my mind. You’re going nowhere - but you’re going everywhere. (Excerpted from Rabbi Yaakov Astor’s column in the Monsey Mevaser)

ויסעו מרפידים ויבאו מדבר סיני ויחנו במדבר ויחן שם ישראל נגד ההר .... (שמות יט-ב)

The Medrash (Bamidbar 1:2) notes that Hashem chose the Midbar (desert) to give the Torah and create the Jewish nation because He knew that in the Midbar they would greet Him appropriately. R’ Baruch Mordechai Ezrachi zt”l explains that people in the desert have both no distractions, nor nothing to hide, from the Ribbono Shel Olam. They reach out to Him and accept His command fully. They long for this interaction and prepare constantly for it. In the process, the personal withholding that takes place in many relationships when people are not open to sharing a piece of themselves, did not exist when Klal Yisroel sojourned in the midbar. The result was an honest, open and loving Kabbalas Ol Malchus Shomayim.

Rav Elazar M. Teitz zt”l, longtime rabbinic leader of Elizabeth, NJ, would relate a great story about the Gaon, R’ Yaakov Meshulam Orenstein zt”l, author of Yeshuos Yaakov. It seems that the Yeshuos Yaakov was invited to be the Rav of Zalkava. Upon arriving at the city and taking residence, his first major challenge arose one Shabbos, right before Shavuos.

Apparently, there was some discussion about whether the residents of Zalkava are supposed to say the tefillah of “Av HaRachamim” on the Shabbos before Shavuos, when that day falls out on “Yom HaMeyuchas” (2 Sivan). The Yeshuos Yaakov was then relatively young and observed the various factions as they fought it out in shul. One group insisted that since the day was a day that Tachanun was not recited, Av HaRachamim must not be said. At the same time, the other group argued that due to the tragedies of the period, Av HaRachamim must be recited as it is on Shabbos Mevorchim Chodesh Sivan. (Rav Teitz added that this must be the source of the famous joke about the shul that said that their minhag was to fight about it).

Eventually, both sides came to the relatively newly installed Rav, the Yeshuos Yaakov, seeking his opinion. He heard both sides and recognizing the basis for such a minhag on both sides, did not rule on the matter. He tried to bridge the gap and create a compromise that would satisfy both sides. In a way, his idea worked for the two factions united and together decided to remove R’ Yaakov Meshulam from his position for not issuing a firm decision that was in their favor.

Now unemployed and having heard of the recent petirah of R’ Tzvi Hersh Rosen zt”l, Rav of Lemberg, the Yeshuos Yaakov traveled to that large city seeking employment. When he got there, someone recognized him and sought to advance his candidacy for the position of Rav in the city (which he eventually won and accepted).

The individual was curious and asked him, “HaRav Orenstein, what brings you to our fair city of Lemberg?”

Without missing a beat, the Yeshuos Yaakov answered: “Obviously, it was none other than the Av HaRachamim!”

People tend to get caught up in the mechanics of minhag and assume that everything is a minhag. While minhagim are important and have a special mesorah to them, they are important when they are utilized to bring about a closer relationship with Hashem and his Torah and mitzvos. Merely creating minhagim that do not fit that bill - like a minhag to fight about something specific - are in fact, Minhagei Shtus (foolish practices). Often when we think about our religious connection to Hashem, we get bogged down in silly questions of identity and practice which focus more on our own selves and do not represent the true experience of our interpersonal relationship with the Av Harachamim. We can do better and achieve more.

מנין שנשבעין לקיים את המצוה, שנאמר נשבעתי ואקיימה לשמור משפטי צדקך, והלא מושבע ועומד מהר סיני הוא ... (נדרים ח.)

Two of the most renowned Gedolim of the past few centuries, the Rebbe, R’ Shmelke zt”l of Nikolsburg (Divrei Shmuel) and R’ Pinchos zt”l of Frankfurt (Baal Hafla’ah) were brothers, sons of the Tchortkover Rebbe, R’ Tzvi Hirsh Halevi Horowitz zt”l. Even as small children they were known as prodigies and their father was forced to assume the duty of teaching them Torah himself. It was a challenging job and he taught them as quickly as their brilliant minds could absorb. When they were both well below ten years of age, they were already learning Gemara with several commentaries.

As part of their study schedule, father and sons would learn together the laws which pertained to the next approaching holiday. Thus, when the Yom Tov of Chanukah ended, their father began the study of Meseches Megilla. Having completed it by Purim, they began learning the areas of Meseches Pesachim dealing with the laws of Pesach, which they finished right on target; the day before Pesach. At this point, Shmelke, the elder of the two boys said to his father, “Tatte, we must begin learning Meseches Shavuos if we want to finish it by the time the Yom Tov of Shavuos comes along.”

Their father smiled tenderly. “Shmelke, mein tayera, Meseches Shavuos does not deal with Chag HaShavuos.”

“I know, father,” replied young Shmelke, “it deals with the laws of oaths; but I have a reason why we should study it now.

    “On that first Shavuos, when Bnei Yisroel were all gathered at Har Sinai, the Jews took a binding oath to keep the mitzvos of the Torah, and that oath has been in effect ever since. I want to learn the laws of oaths so I can understand how important it is to keep a promise and how serious it is to break one.” The young boy spoke with such earnest innocence.

But he was not finished. “In fact,” said young Shmelke, “there are forty-nine blatt (double pages) in Meseches Shavuos and forty-nine days between Pesach and Shavuos. If we learn one blatt every day, we will finish it in time for Yom Tov.”

R’ Tzvi Hirsh was pleased with his son’s erudite reasoning and he happily agreed to learn according to this suggestion. They studied intensely and when Lag B’omer arrived, they even reached a daf which mentions a halachah in the name of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. By the time the Yom Tov of Shavuos arrived, they had finished the masechta entirely.

The following year right before Pesach, the Tchortkover Rebbe again asked his two sons what they wished to learn in preparation for the holiday of Shavuos. This time the younger child, Pinchos, answered: “I think we should learn Kesubos (marriage contracts) and Kiddushin (the laws of marriages).”

The Tchortkover Rebbe was surprised. “Okay, but please explain. What do these Masechtos have to do with Shavuos?”

Now it was young Pinchos’ turn to respond, much like his older brother did the previous year. He smiled and said, “Tatte, by Kabbolas Hatorah, Hashem took the Jewish people to be His chosen Nation and said the words, ‘I have betrothed you to Me forever.’ He held Har Sinai over our heads like a marriage canopy. The holy words of the Torah were like our marriage contract, and He gave us a gift as well - תורה שבעל פה - the Oral Torah. That is why I think we should learn the laws of marriage contracts and betrothals - so we will know that the ‘wedding’ of Klal Yisroel and the Ribono Shel Olam was a valid one and that both He and His people are obligated to fulfill all the points of the contract.”

R’ Tzvi Hirsh couldn’t help beaming with pride from his son’s well-reasoned words. The three scholars learned the two masechtos in record speed - finishing close to 200 blatt - until forty-nine days later, they celebrated both the holiday of Shavuos and the successful completion of their studies. “Ashreinu Mah Tov Chelkeinu U’Mah Naim Goraleinu.”

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