Parshat Beha’alotcha opens with God’s instruction as to how to light the menorah and where to position it in the Mishkan, the Tabernacle. The Sefas Emes made a trenchant observation regarding Aaron HaKohen. Day after day, year after year he was tasked with lighting the menorah. Yet he remained as enthusiastic years into the process as he was on the first day he was instructed to light the menorah. He never complained that he was bored. He never wavered from the task at hand and kept his dedication to avodat hakodesh (holy work) ever present.
He never complained? How unusual does that seem to us? Complaining seems to be part of the Jewish DNA. Some of us may be familiar with the iconic story of Mr. Finkelstein, who suffered terrible chest pains and was rushed to a first class hospital where he received treatment. Suddenly, on day three, without explanation, he checked himself out and transferred to a small run-down Jewish hospital. The administrator couldn’t understand why he would decide to come to his hospital, so he went to the patient and asked him directly: “Was there a problem with the doctors at the other hospital?” “Oh no,” said Mr. Finkelstein, “they were outstanding. Geniuses! I can’t complain.” “Was it the nurses? Were they not attentive enough?” “Oh, no, the nurses were angels. No, I can’t complain,”he said. “Well, it must have been the food? Too little?” said the administrator. “No,” said Mr. Finkelstein. “The meals were wonderful, they were a taste of paradise. About the food, I can’t complain.” “So tell me Mr. Finkelstein, why then did you leave one of the greatest hospitals in the whole world to come here?” Finkelstein gives a big smile and says, “Because here, here I can complain!”
`Jews have a reputation as people not afraid to express an opinion but throughout the Torah, it manifests itself, like Mr. Finkelstein, as lots of kvetching, complaining—especially later in this parsha. Bnei Yisrael is preparing to march out of the wilderness of Sinai. Goaded on by the erev rav, the “riff raff,” the non-Israelites who left Egypt with Bnei Yisrael, the complaints begin. Why did you take us out of Egypt? We had better food; we want meat; we had fish; we had it better. Of course, that was not true but, like children, it’s hard to reason with them. The net result is that Moshe feels angry and despondent, and it appears that a vicious cycle of recriminations has begun.
What is the way out? Eventually Hashem provides assistants for Moshe to help him with the day-to-day management of ministering to such a large assemblage. But the base problem remains. How can Bnei Yisrael break the cycle of complaining and embrace gratitude and patience as a virtue? A charitable way to look at their actions is explained by Rabbi Mark Angel who sees their complaining as a manifestation of a now emancipated people who before could never complain. As free people, they can now express their views, and no longer slaves, they are no longer afraid to speak up. But for Moshe, the complaints become highly personal. He too becomes the focus of criticism from his own flesh and blood. The murmuring that occurs is traceable to Miriam and Aaron, and Moshe’s response shows why he is described by the Torah as the humblest of men. When Miriam is struck down with tzaraat (leprosy) for criticizing Moshe’s relationship with the “Cushite woman” he married, what is Moshe’s response? With the simplest of prayers, he asks God, please heal her.
It takes a great man like Moshe to be so self-effacing that he cries out to save his sister even in the face of her and Aaron’s complaints and critique. How many of us could behave in such a fashion? Often in retrospect, when analyzing a situation, people will say, how I wish I would have behaved differently! Perhaps then, one solution to Bnei Yisrael’s penchant for complaining can be found early in the parsha. Bnei Yisrael came to Moshe and made the following request: We want a do over! Individuals who were unable to bring the Korban Pesach by virtue of defilement received God’s permission to observe a Pesach Sheni (a second Pesach) and bring the sacrifice a month later.
No other exemption like this exists, whether in regard to Shavuot, Sukkot or the High Holidays. Why Pesach? Perhaps a metaphysical reason is that Pesach has come to be that moment in our personal and national lives where we rid ourselves not only of physical chametz but spiritual chametz as well. Chametz is analogized to our puffed-out egos and represents the negative traits we harbor within us. And what can be better than getting a second chance to rid ourselves of that which weighs us down, including our tendency to be negative and harbor lots of complaints?
But, Pesach is long behind us. Pesach Sheni has passed, as well as Shavuot. But the rabbis teach us that if we put our ears to the ground, we can hear the sound of the shofar, signifying Rosh Hashanah’s arrival a few months from now, together with the period of reflection and inner contemplation for self-improvement. Bnei Yisrael would have done well to heed this message of Pesach Sheni and seek a second chance to overcome their tendency towards the negative. But for now, in our parsha, they are destined to remain in the wilderness, destined to wander until they find their new path to the promised land as they mature into the people they are meant to be.
For us, it serves as a cautionary tale to seek a new path so we too can avoid being like the Mr. Finkelsteins of the world. The next time we feel the urge to complain, instead let’s rise to occasion and model behavior worthy of being mamlechet kohanim v’ goy kadosh, a nation of priests and a holy nation.
Rabbanit Adena Berkowitz, a practicing therapist, is Scholar in Residence at Kol HaNeshamah NYC, an organization dedicated to reenergizing the spiritual life of both affiliated and not yet affiliated Jews. She is the author of the bestselling The Jewish Journey Haggadah and can be reached at [email protected].
