2 years ago

Leaving The Desert To Enter The Promised Land

This week, we start the book of Devarim, the last of the Five Books of the Torah. Parshas Devarim begins with Moshe delivering a lengthy monologue, recounting the events beginning with the Exodus from Egypt until the present, as they are about to enter the Promised Land • Full Article

By Rabbi Tuvia Bolton

BEGIN WITH A GRIN

An Arab comes to the Israeli-Jordanian border with a tractor and the scoop is full of sand. The soldier stops him, sure he is smuggling something in the sand.

He conducts a search and finds nothing and he lets the Arab through.

The next day, the same thing happens. The Arab shows up with a tractor and the scoop is full of sand.

Again, the soldier suspects the Arab is smuggling something and he searches the sand.

This goes on day after day and finally, the soldier is tired of it and when the Arab shows up he asks him, “Tell me, why are you here every day?

The Arab says, “I’m smuggling tractors.”

DESERTING THE DESERT

The opening (or preface) to his speech is the first verse of the parsha which says, “These are the words which Moshe spoke to all Israel on that side of the Jordan in the desert, in the plain opposite the Red Sea, between Paran and Tofel and Lavan and Chatzeros and Di Zahav.” This verse hints at places where the Jewish people sinned when they were in the desert. Out of respect for Yisrael, Moshe doesn’t mention the sins outright.

At first glance, the verse is quite surprising. Why does the Torah call the place where Moshe begins the book of Devarim “on that side of the Jordan?” The other side of the Jordan is not a specifically defined place at all. It’s a huge expanse which includes the entire eastern side of the Jordan River. It includes (at least) three separate countries/kingdoms: Edom, Amon and Moav, and others!

Imagine asking someone to give you the address of someone and he writes that the person lives in Brooklyn or Yerushalayim. Does that help you? Couldn’t the Torah narrow it down. The question becomes even stronger when we read the previous verse, i.e. the last verse in Bamidbar, where it says, “These are the mitzvos and mishpatim that G-d commanded… on the plains of Moav by the Jordan at Yericho.” This specifies a particular place, as opposed to our parsha.

In a fabulous sicha, the Rebbe explains at length that this little difference teaches us a big lesson. The difference between mentioning the place at the end of Bamidbar and the beginning of Devarim teaches us the difference between the first four books of the Torah and the fifth. It includes within it the great difference between avoda in exile and the coming of the Geula!

The first four books have stories about the past, about what happened starting with the Creation of the world until the arrival at the border of Eretz Yisrael. Chumash Devarim is about preparing the Jewish people for the future. Moshe starts the final preparations for the Jews to enter the land. He speak, chastises, and educates them about how to conquer the land and what they need to do to remain in the land. It’s not a story about the desert, about the past; it’s a story about the present and the future; it’s the story of what is about to happen.

The book of Bamidbar ends with the list of the forty-two journeys in the desert, which is why it ends with the final journey, the plains of Moav by the Jordan at Yericho. The book of Devarim opens a window to something new, to the entry to the Promised Land, and what is relevant to us now is to tell us that we are “on that side of the Jordan,” i.e. touching distance to the Land.

Here’s an analogy that only a Lubavitcher would understand. Imagine you are flying to the Rebbe. You’ve landed, and are in a taxi headed for 770. The moment the driver turns on to Eastern Parkway, you exults, “We are on Eastern Parkway!” The precise location doesn’t matter, the exact address is not relevant; what matters is that we are on the Rebbe’s street!

In other words, the book of Bamidbar represents the avoda in exile, and the travels of the Jewish people were in order to refine the exile. Therefore, the Torah ends the book of Bamidbar with the final journey which refers to the final and greatest birur (refinement), from the depths of kelipa and the innermost core of evil – “the plains of Moav” – Moav representing the highest level of kelipa (and therefore, the worst and most despicable), chochma of kelipa. The word “arvos” (plains) is from the root meaning evening, darkness, concealment and absence of G-dly light. On the spiritual plane, “plains of Moav” represents the depths of evil and impurity of the nations of the world or the final refinement needed by the Jewish people in order to bring the Geula.

PREPARE FOR ENTRY

The book of Devarim represents entry into the land and the coming of the Geula, involvement in total goodness, with no connection to evil. This is why Devarim begins from the perspective and place of “on that side of the Jordan,” a place that represents the closeness to goodness and the immediate proximity of holiness with no connection to kelipa and impurity.

The question then is, if the future Geula is built primarily on the avoda in exile, if the lofty revelations of the Geula come as a result of refining kelipa, then why not mention the birur of evil too? Why not mention “the plains of Moav?”

Herein lies a deep point, one that has many confused. Chassidus teaches us so often about the greatness of teshuva and about the importance of suppressing evil until it is nullified, that we might think that the ultimate achievement is the involvement with darkness and its transformation to light, and not necessarily constant involvement with holy matters. Or, we might think that it’s better to do teshuva for a sin than not to sin in the first place, when the opposite is the truth!

This is precisely what the Torah wants to teach us with the words “on that side of the Jordan!” Although the way we reached the Geula was by traveling through the “plains of Moav,” although we had to refine the darkness and evil, that was not the desired pinnacle of the Geula. The ultimate quality of Geula is involvement in matters of holiness, to the exclusion of all else!

Refining middos is a good thing, but it’s not the goal. Iskafia (subjugation) and is’hapcha (transformation) are lofty things but they are not the point. Doing teshuva is excellent but it’s not the purpose of Judaism.

The ultimate purpose is connection to the Creator of the world by doing His will, fulfilling Torah and mitzvos. Simply put, that’s the whole story!

Therefore, the moment the Torah “enters” a Geula state with the book of Devarim, it stops talking about the past, the exile, which includes evil and impurity, even though they are already refined. From here on in, the Torah talks in terms of revealed good as the default reality.

TO CONCLUDE WITH A STORY

We will end with a story about revealed goodness. The story is told about the holy Baal Shem Tov that one day, he was told by Heaven that there was a righteous man who served Hashem more than he did. If he wanted, he could met him and see this for himself.

The Baal Shem Tov repeated this to his students and invited them to meet the tzaddik. He asked them to come with him into the forest and hide behind some trees, explaining that the tzaddik would be revealed to them.

Suddenly, a village boy passed by on his way to shepherd his sheep. Nobody paid attention to him. To their surprise though, the boy fell to his knees and called out, “Master of the universe! I love you so much! Only You know how much I love You! But what can I do when I don’t know how to pray and I cannot even read, and I don’t know how to learn Torah? But there is one thing I do know how to do and that is to play the flute. So, that is what I will do!”

The boy took the flute and played it with all his might in honor of G-d. In his exertion, the boy fainted. After a few minutes he woke up and called out, “Master of the universe! I love You. I swear that I love You. What can I do for You? You know what? I know how to jump and turn a cartwheel. That is what I will do for You!”

The boy began jumping and flipping over in honor of G-d and this time too, he did so until his strength ran out and he fainted.

He woke up and called out: “Master of the universe, I love You and want to give you a present. What can I do when I have no money? Oh, I have one coin which I want to give to You. You can buy with it what You like.”

The boy threw the coin into the air and a hand reached from Heaven and took the coin. The poor boy’s gift was accepted!

Good Shabbos!

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