18 Jun BEHAALOTCHA: HOW TO DEAL WITH ECONOMIC CHALLENGE THE “DAYS” AND “NIGHTS” OF LIFE

The Economist
An architect, a
surgeon, and
economist are arguing
who of them holds
the most prominent
position.
The surgeon said,
‘Look, we’re the most important. The very
first thing G-d did was surgery: to extract
Eve from Adam’s rib.’
The architect said, ‘No, wait a minute, G-d
is an architect first and foremost. G-d made
the world in six days out of chaos.’
The economist smiled, ‘And who made the
chaos?’
The Dual Canopy
“On the day the Mishkan was erected, the
cloud covered the Mishkan,” the Torah
records in Parshat Behaalotcha. “Then, in the
evening, there would be upon the Mishkan
like a fiery glow till morning.”
“From then on it remained that way,” the
Torah continues. “The cloud would cover it
[by day] and a glow of fire by night.”
Two points require clarification. First: What
was the significance and purpose of this dual
miraculous canopy that hovered over the
Mishkan in the desert — a cloud during the

day and a glowing flame during the night?
Second: Like every episode recorded in the
Torah, this one, too, contains a spiritual
interpretation that continuously plays itself
out in journeys of the human spirit. How can
we apply the story of this Mishkan canopy to
our lives today?
Smugness Vs. Despair
The Mishkan was the edifice erected by
Bnei Yisrael in the Sinai desert to serve as a
home for the Divine presence. In Jewish
writings, the Mishkan represents the place in
the human heart where the light of
G-d resides. The Mishkan, then, exists
timelessly within the human soul.
This sacred and noble place within us must
include both a cloud by day and a fire by
night. Each person experiences in his or her
life “days” and “nights” — moments of light
and moments of darkness, times of happiness
and contentment as well as times of agony
and turmoil. For some, the days are longer
than the nights; for others the nights sadly
exceed the days. Yet most humans possess
a share of both realities.
When things are going well for us — when
we’re paying the bills nicely, the kids are
healthy, our spouses are there for us and
we’re satisfied with our lot — we often forget
how vulnerable we really are in this world.

We tend to become smug,
complacent and
desensitized. We often
become apathetic to other
people’s pain. We don’t
feel the need for genuine
friendships, and certainly
not for a relationship with
G-d. We don’t feel the
urgent need to be real. At
moments of bliss people
often feel that they are on
top of the world and they
do not need anybody. They
forget their humaneness
and simplicity.
On the other hand, when things become
(heaven forbid) difficult and painful – your
company “is in der erd” (Yiddish for “is in
the ground”), a loss in the family, illness of a
loved one, a marriage goes sour, the bank is
after us, our children are not doing well or we
are overcome by inner mental or physical
challenges — we often fall prey to feelings of
despair and loneliness. We sink into the
morass of life’s hardships, as we say to
ourselves, “it’s dark and it’s getting darker.”
Maintain Perspective
Thus, the Torah teaches us a movingly
profound lesson.
If you are to become a human Mishkan, if
you wish to discover the grace of G-d
within your heart, you must recall the
darker cloud hovering above you even
during times of brightness and splendor. A
person must always remember that
ultimately he cannot claim ownership over
anything in his life: Life is a gift, love is
gift, health is a gift, relationships are gifts,
parents are gifts and children are gifts.
Financial success, too, is not a natural
symptom of your brilliant investments; it
is a gift. One ought never to become blind
to the truth that everything can change in a
single instance and that there is so much
pain in the world. When you remember the
clouds, you will never become arrogant,
detached and false.
On the other hand, when night falls upon
us, when life exposes its painful and darker
side to us, we need to recall the glowing
light hovering above us. We must
remember that every experience we endure
is part of our life’s mission to serve G-d
under these circumstances and to transform
the world into a home for goodness and
G-dliness. Every challenge contains an
opportunity for deeper awareness, growth,
and rebirth; it invites us into a deeper
relationship with our soul and our G-d.
Each cloud contains a flame within.
Judaism’s Mission Statement
This is the powerful significance behind
the mitzvah, the Jewish tradition, to recite
twice each day the Shema Yisroel, the
most reverent Jewish prayer, once in the

morning and once in the evening.
When dawn breaks and the sun emerges to
embrace us with its warmth, we state:
“Shema Yisrael Hashem Elokeinu Hashem
Echad.” Each of us is essentially a reflection
of G-d, a recipient of His grace.
When night falls and darkness makes its
way into our lives, we once again declare:
“Shema Yisrael Hashem Elokeinu Hashem
Echad.” G-d is one means that the same G-d
Who was present during the “day,” is also
present during the “night.” Darkness is
painful, but it, too, must become part of a
dynamic relationship with life and with G-d.
The Breaking of the Glass
This is also the mystical reason for the
enigmatic Jewish custom to break a glass
under the Chupah at the moment when the
groom and the bride are about to enter into a
private room and celebrate their union, and
the guests are about to begin feasting and
dancing.
Granted, we break a glass during a marriage
ceremony to remember the destruction of
Yerushalayim and all of the broken hearts in
the world. But couldn’t we do the breaking a
little earlier, during the more solemn
moments of the ceremony? Must we, at the
happiest moment of a bride and a groom,
introduce sadness and melancholy?
The answer: Those who at the peak of their
personal joy remember the pain that is still
present in the outside world, will, at the
moment of their pain, remember the joy out
there in the world. On the other hand, those
who at a moment of a personal high, become
totally submerged in their own mood and are
indifferent to the broken hearts around them,
then, when struck by pain and hardship, they
will remain stuck in their own quagmire,
unable to reach out and glean hope and
inspiration from the laughter and joy still
present in the world.
Thus, the Torah states: “From then on it
remained that way, the cloud would cover it
[by day] and a glow of fire by night.” This is
an eternal directive. During your days, look
up to the clouds; during your nights, gaze up
to the fire.
And if during your days, you will remember
the clouds, then during your nights you will
remember the flame.