Have Questions or Comments?
Leave us some feedback and we'll reply back!

    Your Name (required)

    Your Email (required)

    Phone Number)

    In Reference to

    Your Message


    PARSHAT BAMIDBAR: WHO OWNS JUDAISM? WHY GIVE THE TORAH IN A DESERT, NOT IN FIVE-STAR RESORT?

    The Desert
    This week’s parsha,
    named “Bamidbar,”
    which means “in the
    desert,” is always
    read preceding the
    holiday of Shavuos,
    when we celebrate the giving of the Torah at
    Sinai, more than 3,300 years ago, in the year
    1313 BCE.
    One reason for reading this parsha as a
    preparation for Shavuos is because the Torah
    was given “bamidbar,” in a desert. It was at
    Har Sinai in the Sinai desert where the
    newly liberated Hebrew slaves were molded
    into a nation and given the blueprint for
    repairing the world. But that only carries the
    question over: Of all places, why indeed was
    Torah given in a wilderness?
    What is more, our sages describe Sinai as
    the marriage between G-d and His people;
    whoever heard of getting married in a barren
    desert? The Torah should have been given in
    a splendid environment, perhaps in the
    Hilton or the Waldorf-Astoria, not in a
    desolate wilderness!
    Let us introduce one more question: Why

    was it necessary for the Jewish people to
    wander 40 years in this desert before
    entering the Promised Land? Was 210 years
    in Egypt, including more than 80 years of
    hard labor, not enough? Why liberate them
    from Egypt only to put them through another
    40 years in the wilderness?
    There are many explanations for the unique
    relationship between Torah and the desert.
    Here are three.
    Absolute Sublimity
    1) Had the Torah been given in a civilized
    city or community, people might have
    defined it as a product of a particular culture,
    milieu, and environment. Sophisticated
    academics would explain to us the particular
    “genre” of Torah, as if it were an outdated,
    modern, or post-modern, piece of literature,
    an epic or lyric, a work of history, law,
    tragedy, or philosophy. They would
    enlighten us as to whether Torah belonged to
    the time of the Athenians, the Hellenistic
    age, the Greco-Roman period, the Byzantine
    age, or another period of civilization. Torah
    would be labeled, classified, and qualified.
    It would be “put into perspective.”
    But Torah cannot be put into a particular

    cultural or artistic perspective. Torah is not
    culture, literature, art, history, law, or fiction.
    Torah embodies the eternal truths about
    existence, life, and destiny that speak in
    every language, in every culture, in every
    age, and to every soul. The Torah cannot be
    reduced to a particular time frame or
    reference point. It benefits all the arts but
    never competes with them.
    Professor Abraham Joshua Heschel (himself
    a scion of the great Chasidic masters) put
    it thus: “Why does the Bible surpass
    everything created by man? Why is there no
    work worthy of comparison with it? Why is
    there no substitute for the Bible, no parallel
    to the history it has engendered? Why must
    all who seek the living G-d turn to its pages?
    “Set the Bible beside any of the truly great
    books produced by the genius of man and
    see how they are diminished in stature. The
    Bible shows no concern with literary form,
    with verbal beauty, yet its absolute sublimity
    rings through all its pages. Its lines are so
    monumental and at the same time so simple
    that whoever tries to compete with them
    produces either a commentary or a
    caricature. It is a work we do not know how
    to assess. Other books you can estimate, you
    can measure, compare; the Bible you can
    only extol. Its insights surpass our
    standards. There is nothing greater. In
    three thousand years it has not aged a day.
    It is a book that cannot die. Oblivion
    shuns its pages.”
    “Absolute sublimity.” Such a work must
    be taught and transmitted in a desert. A
    desert is not associated with any particular
    culture or form of living. A desert is
    barren, raw, and plain. A desert is not
    sophisticated; it is real and simple.
    Ownerless
    2) Had the Torah been given in a particular
    city or community, its inhabitants would
    have claimed copyrights on it. Had the
    Torah been given in Boro Park, Crown
    Heights, Williamsburg, Lakewood, or
    Monsey, these communities would claim
    “ownership” of the Torah. “We know how
    to interpret Torah, how to assess it, how to
    appreciate it. It belongs to us.” The same
    would hold true if the Torah was given
    in Teaneck or the Upper West Side.
    The desert, on the other hand, is
    ownerless. Nobody wants the desert. It
    belongs to nobody. Torah, too, is
    ownerless. It belongs to every Jewish soul
    on earth. Nobody holds any “rights” to
    the Torah. It is the living, vibrant
    conversation of G-d with every living Jew.
    No group, denomination, or community
    “owns” it more than anyone else. (Of
    course, those privileged to study Torah

    and adhere to its integrity and formula ought
    to teach and inspire; but nobody owns it.)
    Life in the Fast Lane
    3) Had the Torah been given in a civilized
    and splendid terrain, we might have believed
    that its objective was to guide the beautiful
    life and the splendid heart.
    But that is not Torah.
    Torah does not tell us that life is easy and
    that faith is bliss. On the contrary, we were
    placed in a personal and global wilderness,
    and life is a battle. And it is precisely this
    battle that G-d intended us to face, day in
    and day out. Do not be disturbed or
    demoralized, the Torah teaches, by your
    traumas, challenges, inconsistencies, and
    weaknesses. Do not be shaken when you do
    not live up to your highest aspirations and
    often do not actualize or maintain your
    inspiration. Do not be discouraged; because
    the Torah was given precisely to help us
    pave a road in the barren desert of the human
    psyche, to create a highway in the jungle of
    history and in the personal jungle of our
    anxiety-ridden brains.
    Had the Torah been given in a beautiful city,
    then all we would have is a guide on how to
    live in beauty, in ecstasy. But Torah came to
    teach us how to confront our wilderness and
    to transform a desert into a paradise.
    That is how the spiritual masters explained
    the reason for the Torah being given on a
    mountain. Why a mountain, and not flat
    land?
    A mountain is essentially elevated earth.
    That is the profound message of Torah: With
    earth, gravel, dirt and mud, you must battle.
    That is intrinsic to the human condition and
    the reality of our world. Yet you must
    remember that your mission is to elevate the
    earth, to introduce holiness and G-dliness
    into a mundane and soiled world.
    G-d did not desire holy people doing holy
    things; he wanted people who think they are
    unholy doing holy things; to disentangle
    themselves from the voices that tell them
    they are anything but whole and one,
    derivatives of infinite oneness. He desired
    that earthly human beings become mountains
    of moral dignity and divine grace.