From: Yeshivat Har Etzion Office <office@etzion.org.il>
To: yhe-parsha@etzion.org.il
Subject: PARSHA61 -35: Parashat Chukat

YESHIVAT HAR ETZION
YISRAEL KOSCHITZKY VIRTUAL BEIT MIDRASH (VBM)
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PARASHAT CHUKAT

The Emergence of the Second Generation

By Rav Yair Kahn

The Israelites arrived, the entire congregation, at
the wilderness of Zin in the first month [of the
fortieth year] ... (Bemidbar 20:1)

Rashi: "The entire congregation" means the
congregation that was complete, for [the generation
of the exodus] had died in the desert, and these had
remained alive.

Here we are finally introduced to the second
generation, who will succeed where their predecessors had
failed. In a previous shiur, we noted the midrash which
defines Sefer Bemidbar as the book that distinguishes
between light and dark, i.e. between the first
generation, who failed in their mission, and the second
generation, who succeeded. Therefore, we would expect
the difference between these two generations to be as
clear as night and day.

However, even a glance at our parasha leads to the
troubling conclusion that nothing seems to have changed.
The same mistakes made by the first generation seem to be
repeated by their successors. When we read the passages
where Benei Yisrael complain about food and water, we are
struck with the strange sensation of deja-vous. The
recurrent theme of the first generation "why did you take
us out of Egypt" is repeated by their children (Bemidbar
20:5 and 21:5). Are we to conclude from this that there
really is no significant difference between the two
generations? Is the only difference rooted in one
isolated incident that wasn't repeated by the second
generation? In order to resolve this issue, we must take
a closer and more critical look at those events which
appear to be mere repetitions.

Let us first examine the complaint regarding the
"manna."

They set out from Mount Hor by way of the Sea of
Reeds to skirt the land of Edom. But the people
grew restive on the journey, and the people spoke
against God and against Moses, "Why did you make us
leave Egypt to die in the wilderness? There is no
bread and no water, and we have come to loathe this
miserable food." (Bemidbar 21:4-5)

The comparable complaint of the first generation is
recorded in Parashat Baha'alotekha.

The riffraff in their midst felt a gluttonous
craving; and then the Israelites wept and said, "If
only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we
used to eat free in Egypt, the cucumbers, the
melons, the leeks, the onions, and garlic. Now our
gullets are shriveled. There is nothing at all!
Nothing but this manna to look to!" (Bemidbar 11:4-
6)

In their first complaint about the manna, Benei
Yisrael reminisce about the wonderful menu they had
enjoyed while subject to Egyptian bondage. This is
certainly a strange and ungrateful reaction, highlighted
by the striking term "chinam" - for free. Even if we
were to accept that the Egyptian slavemasters treated
their Hebrew slaves to culinary delicacies, we can hardly
be impressed by their generosity. Benei Yisrael paid
dearly for their meals with blood, sweat and tears. In
contrast, how much did God charge for the manna that fell
daily from the heavens?

Our sages, of course, noted the absurdity of this
argument. Rashi quotes a Sifrei (Beha'alotekha, 29)
which offers an insightful interpretation.

"We remember the fish" - Did they indeed receive fish
for free? Does it not say, "Go and work, and straw
will not be given to you" - if they would not give
them even straw, would they give them fish? What,
then, do they mean by "free?" [They mean} free from
mitzvot.

According to this explanation, Benei Yisrael's
complaint revolved around the requirement to abide by the
divine commandments imposed upon them. They reminisced
about the unfettered life they led in Egypt, before being
bound by the divine imperative. The food they received
in Egypt was not dependent upon halakhic behavior.
Manna, in contrast, demanded restraint and acceptance of
the halakhic norm. Only a specific amount could be
taken, and only on certain days. All that was taken had
to be finished within the time allotted by the law.

Let us try to uncover what lies at the root of this
complaint. In Beha'alotekha, Benei Yisrael have only
recently been freed from bondage. However, the
transition from slavery to freedom is complex and
requires more than nullifying the possession of the slave-
owner. After all, the distinction between a free person
and a slave is not merely an economic one, but an
existential one as well. A free man shoulders
responsibility, while a slave is totally dependent upon
others. His life functions are controlled by his master.
He makes no choices for himself, and looks upon others to
support him. He is not tormented by the consequences of
his decisions, because he does not decide. Although in a
state of bondage, he is free from the worries that are
inherent to the responsibilities of independence.

Our Sages had profound insight into the depths of
human character and boldly proclaimed, "Avda be-hefkeira
nicha lei" - a slave, from his limited perspective,
prefers the lack of commitment which is typical of
bondage (Gittin 13a). In fact, the Torah informs us that
under certain circumstances a person is apt to choose a
life of slavery over freedom.

But if the slave declares, "I love my master, and my
wife and children: I do not wish to be free"...
(Shemot 21:5)

However, in such a case, the law requires that the ear of
the slaved be pierced. According to our Rabbis, this
indicates that the decision to remain in slavery runs
counter to the message, transmitted both in Egypt and at
Sinai, of commitment to God.

"Then his master shall bring him ... to the door, or
to the doorpost, and his master shall pierce his ear
with an awl; and he shall serve him forever." (Shemot
21:6)

Rashi (quoting Kiddushin 22b):
Why is it more appropriate to pierce [the slave's]
ear, rather than any other part of his body?
Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai said ... The ear which
heard at Sinai, "For to Me are Benei Yisrael slaves,"
and then went and acquired an owner for himself - let
it be pierced!
Rabbi Shimon expounded this verse beautifully: In
what way are the door and the doorpost different than
all other utensils in the house? God said: The door
and the doorpost were witness in Egypt when I passed
over [the houses of the Jews] and said, "For to Me
are Benei Yisrael slaves; they are My slaves" - and
not slaves to slaves; yet nevertheless this person
went out and acquired a master for himself - let him
be pierced before them!

In Judaism, religious commitment requires
existential freedom. Although man must surrender his
will unconditionally to God and accept absolutely the
divine imperative, God is not interested in obedience
that enslaves man existentially, but rather in commitment
that uplifts man spiritually.

"And the writing was the writing of God, engraved
(charut) upon the tablets" - Do not read "engraved"
(charut) but rather "free" (cherut), for no one is
truly free except he who engages in Torah study.
(Avot 6:2)

Man must be able to freely accept upon himself the
halakhic norm along with the yoke of Heaven. He must be
capable of exercising "free will" - the ability to choose
between good and evil, between life and death. He must
be willing to shoulder responsibility for those
decisions. Free man redeems himself by choosing life.
In sharp contrast, the slave prefers to free himself of
responsibility; however, he enslaves himself
existentially. He accepts orders and acts accordingly so
as not to be fettered by responsibility and tormented by
decisions.

Although freed from Egyptian bondage, Benei Yisrael
had not as of yet been weaned from a slave mentality.
Despite receiving the Torah and boldly proclaiming,
"Naaseh Ve-nishma" - "We shall do and we shall hear," the
transition from bondage to freedom had not been
completed. Therefore the people complained about the
manna, which demthe high price of spiritual
responsibility and commitment. They reminisced about the
uncommitted life of slavery typical of Egypt.

In discussing the episode of the spies, we noted
that the decree was due in part to the nation's
immaturity. They lacked the security and composure
necessary to conquer Canaan. The "telunot" (complaints)
reflected a character flaw of a people unwilling to
assume the responsibility required to realize Jewish
destiny. According to our analysis of the complaint
regarding the manna, this deficiency can already be
detected at the beginning of the journey from Sinai.

Based on this, we can explain the opinion (Shabbat
116a) that the parasha of "Vayehi bi-nesoa" was
introduced in order to separate the negative events which
precede the parasha (i.e. childishly escaping Sinai),
from those which are recounted afterwards (the complaints
at the beginning of the journey beginning with manna).
Following the parasha of "Vayihi bi-nesoa," we noted a
steady decline which continues through Korach. There is
no attempt at downplaying the impression of
deterioration. Why then was it necessary to insert
"vayihi bi-nesoa" to separate specifically between these
two iniquities. It appears that the separation was
introduced in order to distinguish between inherently
incommensurate events. The sense of relief when leaving
Sinai is unrelated to the process of decline which led up
to the sin of the spies. It is merely a human reaction
to the intensity and profound spiritual tension of "matan
Torah." On the other hand, the decree condemning the
first generation to death in the wilderness is inherently
connected to the "telunot" at the onset of the journey.
There is a link between the complaint regarding the manna
and the sin of the spies. Both reflect a basic character
flaw typical of a nation raised in bondage.

We are now ready to examine our parasha:

They set out from Mount Hor by way of the Sea of
Reeds to skirt the land of Edom. But the people grew
restive on the journey and the people spoke against
God and against Moses, "Why did you make us leave
Egypt to die in the wilderness? There is no bread
and no water, and we have come to loathe this
miserable food." (Bemidbar 21:4-6)

Once again it seems that the people, like their
parents, complain about the exodus from Egypt. However,
upon closer analysis, we notice something odd about this
complaint. Why do the people speak of dying in the
wilderness? Although they are tired of eating manna for
forty years, monotony is not usually fatal. Furthermore,
why do they continue to complain about water? We read in
the previous chapter that the well was restored.

It seems clear that the people are not reminiscing
about Egypt, but rather expressing their frustration at
not immediately entering Eretz Yisrael. In order to
avoid Edom, they are directed back towards Yam Suf,
instead of turning towards Canaan. They are fed up with
wilderness and its manna, and challenge Moshe: Were we
taken out of Egypt in order to perish in the wilderness!?
Wasn't the purpose of the exodus to inherit Eretz
Yisrael, a land of wheat fields and running water? They
are impatient, not hesitant; they are brimming with
confidence, not incapacitated by fear.

We find a parallel distinction regarding the water
complaint. The first generation argues that they should
never have been taken out of Egypt and placed in a life-
threatening situation in the wilderness.

"Why did you bring us up from Egypt, to kill us and
our children and livestock with thirst?" (Shemot
17:3)

The argument of the second generation runs in the
opposite direction, towards Eretz Yisrael, not back to
Egypt.

The people quarreled with Moshe, saying, "If only we
had perished when our brothers perished before the
Lord! Why have you brought the Lord's congregation
into this wilderness for us and our beasts to die
there? Why did you make us leave Egypt to bring us
to this wretched place, a place with no grain or
figs or vines or pomegranates? There is not even
water to drink!" (Bemidbar 20:3-5)

With the death of Miriam, the well is no longer
available to the people. They find themselves in the
wilderness with no source of water. They are dying of
thirst and begin to complain about the wilderness.
Surprisingly, they do not complain immediately about
their thirst; first they point to the lack of wheat and
figs, pomegranates and dates, and as an afterthought they
also mention the lack of water. This bizarre argument
leaves no room for doubt about their true intentions. We
all know what figs, dates and pomegranates refer to, and
it is obvious what was foremost on their minds. In spite
of the lack of water, they complain about still being in
this horrible wilderness. After forty years, it's time
to enter Eretz Yisrael.

In conclusion, the generation taken out of bondage
was not able to fully free itself from the mindset
characteristic of slaves. After the exodus, they view
God as a divine slavemaster who has to care for their
every need. Unwilling to assume personal responsibility,
they complain every time their needs are not provided
for. This trait expresses itself in the events which
immediately follow the exodus, such as the complaint
regarding the lack of water. However, even after
receiving the Torah and commencing on the march towards
Eretz Yisrael, they continue to complain, longing for the
simple, uncomplicated and uncommitted life of Egypt. The
climax is finally reached at the sin of the spies, when
the fateful decree was issued. However, we can trace the
roots of this decree to Masa and Meriva, when the nation
redeemed from Egypt complained about the lack of water.
This connection is expressed in a well known message from
Tehillim recited every Friday evening.

Do not harden your hearts as in Meriva, as in the day
of Masa in the wilderness: when your fathers tempted
Me, proved Me, even though they saw My deeds. Forty
years long did I loathe this generation and I said,
It is a people that errs in their heart, and that do
not know My ways; whereupon I swore in My wrath that
they should not enter into My resting-place.
(Tehillim 95:8-11)

A careful reading of parashat Chukat reveals the
metamorphosis of Keneset Yisrael. They are confident -
not insecure, impatient - not hesitant. They find
themselves in similar situations as their parents,
however, the subtleties that separate their respective
responses distinguish night from day.

"And God distinguished between the light and the
darkness" - This alludes to Sefer Bemidbar, which
distinguishes between [the generation that] left
Egypt and those who entered the Land. (Bereishit
Rabba 3:5)

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