Early Erev Shabbos

I'm thankful for the comments on the previous post. At the moment I am tired, heading towards bed. But I wanted to post my parsha thoughts. In part, thanks to this blog and the people who read it this year I gave out a written parsha essay to my classes every Friday and students took turns reading it out loud.

I am commenting on the comments from memory. Yes, MSB that type of davening is a holy phenomenon. I've seen that too older people holding on to the prayer chants of their youth, knowing Adon Olam by heart but not the names of family members. And yes - that quote is a good one to spread around. Yes, Pearl it's an original line about Jenny Craig and I'm proud that I (with G-d's help) thought of it. Mirty you touch on a fascinating phenomenon - the double bind. Lots to say on that...

G-d Bless us all. Everyone.

Last week's thought was really on this week's parsha (if you cite it this week you may want to rename it Chanukah in June). And here's another one, unlike the other one:
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Beha'alotcha

A man walks into a monastery. He must take a vow of silence, but once a year he is permitted write a word on the chalkboard in front of the head monk. The first year it's tough not to talk, but Word Day arrives and the monk writes "The" on the chalk board. The second year is extremely painful - but finally Word Day rolls around. He etches "Food" on the board. The third year is excruciating, but the monk struggles through it and when it's Word Day again he approaches the black board and writes the word "Stinks". The head monk looks at him and asks "What's with you? You've been here three years and all you've done is complain."

There is something human and I think something Jewish about complaining. Perhaps our love of complaining, especially regarding meals and lodging (particularly on Pesach) goes back to beginning of the Jewish People when G-d carried us miraculously through the desert, and we complained that the food was better in Egypt.

With everything prepared and in place the Jewish People start their travels. "And the people were like complainers." G-d expresses anger by releasing fire which consumes the edge of the camp. The People cry. Moshe prays. The fire stops. The lower echelons of the population crave meat. The People cry and ask: "Who will give us meat to eat ?"

Why does it say they were LIIKE complainers? Were they complaining, or not? Chazal state that the stated complaint: that they missed the free fish of Egypt is a veiled declaration of the desire to be free of Mitzvot. While this may sound farfetched, it is not really a stretch. The Jews switched from being the slaves of Paroh to being Avdei Hashem - slaves of G-d and taking on Ol Malchut Shamayim - the Heavenly yoke. Even though we're told - "Ein Lecha Ben Chorin Ela Mi SheOseik BeTorah" - that no-one is free without being involved in Torah, we understand that this is a yoke that must be accepted. We try to keep the Torah lovingly, but sometimes we (or people we know) complain. And the subtext is a desire to be free of the yoke.

Chazal tell us that any time the Jews worshipped Avoda Zara it was really a shortcut to zenut - licentiousness. In this case Chazal saw a complaint not about food, but about mitzvot in general, and arayot in particular. Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz says, "There are no such thing as sfeikot-doubts, only ta'avot-desires". The word LIKE is used to indicate that the words of complaint masked the real issue.

May we be blessed with honesty, to see our own inclination to be "free", and to own it, and subdue it and merit true freedom. Wynton Marsalis said of jazz, "there's no freedom in freedom, there's only freedom in structure". BeDerech SheAdam Rotzeh Leileich Molichin Oto - In the direction a person wishes to go, he is pulled. May we want to go the right way and then surely G-d will take us there.