Shabbat Shalom, Elisheva
Forty-Two Journeys
There is more to galut than the toughening of the Jewish soul.
Galut is also a journey. A journey is not just a departure from home -- it is an advance towards a destination.
Indeed, this is the difference between a wanderer and a journeyer: the wanderer is escaping or being driven away from some place, while the journeyer is going to someplace. The wanderer is defined by where he is not, by the state and experience of homelessness and what this does to his inner self; the journeyer is defined by the place or places to which he goes and what he achieves there. When the wanderer and the journeyer return home, the wanderer brings back his "hardened" and matured self, while the journeyer brings the treasures procured at the various points of his itinerary.
What are we seeking in our places of exile? What will we bring home with us when we return from our journey to the ends of earth? The Talmud defines the purpose of galut as the acquisition of "converts." "The people of Israel were exiled amongst the nations," it declares, "only so that converts might be added to them."
These "converts" assume many forms. There are the literal converts -- non-Jews who were included in the community of Israel as the result of our contact with the peoples of the world. More significantly (since the Torah neither instructs nor encourages us to seek converts to Judaism), there is the more subtle conversion of a pagan world to the monotheistic ethos and ideals of Torah, achieved by our centuries and millennia of galut amongst the nations of the world.
The Kabbalists explain that the "converts" gained in the course of our galut are not only of the human sort, but also include the souls of all creatures and creations with which we have come in contact in the course of our dispersion to all corners of the globe. For every created entity has at its core a spark of holiness, a pinpoint of divinity that constitutes its soul -- its function within G-d's overall purpose for creation. Every time we utilize something -- be it a physical object or force, an idea or a cultural phenomenon -- to serve the Creator, we penetrate its shell of mundanity and realize its divine essence. This, the Talmud is saying, is the purpose of our galut: to redeem the sparks of holiness which lie buried in the most far-flung places and circumstances.
This concept of galut is expressed by the second Parshah of our pair, the section of Massei ("journeys"), which chronicles the travels and encampments of the people of Israel in the Sinai desert.
The Parshah's name derives from its opening verses: "These are the journeys of the children of Israel, who went out from the land of Egypt... And they journeyed from Raamses... and they camped at Sukkot. They journeyed from Sukkot, and camped at Eitam..." Massei goes on to list the 42 journeys which comprised Israel's travels from Egypt to Mount Sinai to the Holy Land.
The commentaries explain that these "journeys" are the forerunners and prototypes for the historical saga of Israel, as we advance through "the desert of the nations" (as the prophet Ezekiel refers to the galut) to our ultimate "entry into the Land" in the age of Moshiach.
It is significant that the Torah refers to our ancestors' travels as "journeys" in the plural -- a plurality that is preserved in the name of the Parshah. If the purpose of galut were to lie solely in its rootlessness and what this brings out in the Jewish soul, then it should be defined as a "wandering" rather than a "journey"; and if its purpose were to lie exclusively in its ultimate "entry into the Holy Land" at galut's end, then our sojourn in the "desert of the nations" should be regarded as a single journey, not a series of journeys. The fact that the Torah considers galut to be Massei, "journeys," means that the purpose of galut is to be found also, and primarily, in the places to which it brings us, so that each of its travels is a journey and each of its "encampments" is a destination.
Integration
Both Matot and Massei are Parshiot read during the Three Weeks -- both are lessons on galut. On the face of it, however, they seem to be different, even conflicting, insights into the nature and purpose of our exile. Matot instructs us on how the purpose of galut is to evoke in us the steadfastness and immobility of the branch-turned-rod. Massei, on the other hand, regards galut as a journey -- as movement, change and transformation.
Indeed, virtually everything in our existence is multifaceted, and "life" is the endeavor to navigate, rather than to eliminate, its paradoxes. If "sticking to your principles" and "changing the world" seem conflicting goals, so be it; we nevertheless pursue them both, exercising our judgment and sensitivity as to which of these objectives should be emphasized in a given circumstance. So one week we dwell on the Matot aspect of galut, regarding the challenges of its alien environment as something to resist and repel -- thereby strengthening our resistance and hardening our inner resolve. And the next week we focus on the Massei approach to exile, exploring the ways in which our interaction with our environment serves to elevate it and transform it into a holier and more G-dly place.
But what happens when Matot and Massei unite into a single Torah-reading? Then the "directive of the week" is to integrate them both into a single approach to galut. "Living with the times" in such a week means discovering how your interaction with a hostile environment is not a challenge to your values and convictions, but their strengthening and their affirmation. It means discovering how your "toughness" and intractability in your faith is not a hindrance to achievement and creativity, but actually an aid in your endeavor to transform the corner of the world to which you have been dispatched on the mission to build a home for G-d.
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