From the time we are young, we are taught that the Torah represents the paradigm of divine obedience and devotion, that it is a statement of true love between the Jewish people and God. However, we often lose sight of the fact that the Torah itself contains an ongoing struggle between God and humanity, where the God provides everything that humanity needs to survive, yet humanity does not keep up our end of the bargain by choosing ignore the source of their bounty. As readers of the text, we must figure out a way to see these acts of public doubt as lessons that enlarge our faith, rather than contract it. Regarding this tension, James Fowler writes in Stages of Faith that, “Doubt and struggle aren’t necessarily [an indication of] rejecting one’s faith, but perhaps longing for a more intimate relationship with the Holy,” a lesson that we learn from this week’s parasha.
Parashat Behaalotekha officially begins the Israelites’ march from the foot of Mount Sinai to the land of Canaan. However, almost immediately upon leaving Mount Sinai in chapter 10 of Sefer Bemidbar, the Israelites complain that God is not providing them satisfactory food in chapter 11, leaving the people on the brink of rebellion against Moses and God. Rabbi Nathaniel Helfgot points out that the the eleventh chapter of Sefer Bemidbar contains a linguistic devices that alludes to the kind of tension that emerges between God and the Israelites. According to Helfgot, the words basar (flesh) and ruah (spirit) occur as a pair twenty-one times in fourteen verses of the Torah. However, seven of those verses, and more than half of the pairings, are in Sefer Bemidbar, and five of those seven verses are in this chapter of our parasha. Given the tensions expressed in chapter 11 of Sefer Bemidbar, Helfgot argues that the use of this linguisitic device,
“exhibits the fundamental tension of this chapter. Which realm will dominate? Will it be the Flesh and what it represents in terms of physical and immediate gratification, or will it be the Spirit, representing the Word of God and His mission for the Jews” (Nathaniel Helfgot, Mikra and Meaning: Studies in Bible and Its Interpretation, 109)
Helfgot's analysis seems particularly accurate when we think about this chapter in the context of Sefer Bemidar, as a whole. The famous events of Sefer Bemidbar, including Moses striking the rock, the twelve spies, the rebellion of Korah, and others, indicate a tension between whether the Israelites can remain devoted to God (i.e. spirit), or will they be devoted to their own material desires (i.e. flesh).
In fact, Jacob Milgrom argues in his commentary that the tension is even greater in our parasha than Helgot suggests, for the kind of critiques brought by the Israelites to Moses about God are tantamount to denying God’s existence, in particular the criticisms about the food the Israelites ate in Egypt. Milgrom writes (emphasis mine):
“In Exodus 16:11-13, the quail (as well as the manna) were God’s gracious gift to Israel in response to its hankering after meat (Exodus 16:3) in order that they may behold the Lord’s power and, henceforth, trust in Him (Exodus 16:4, 6, 12). By contrast the gift of quail in verse 20 of this passage is given in anger and will result in many fatalities (vv. 33-34). God’s words expose the real reason behind the complaint: The craving for meal expresses a disguised desire to return to Egypt and is tantamount to a rejection of God (v. 20)” (Jacob Milgrom, JPS Torah Commentary: Numbers, 88).
According to Milgrom, while the hunger of the Israelites immediately following the exodus from Egypt was the cry of an oppressed people who needed to feel that God would provide for them, the hunger of the Israelites in our parasha was the immature complaint of a people who saw a temporary hardship as a sign that God was a fraud. Milgrom’s commentary offers a window into how even a complaint that appears reasonable on the surface can actually reveal a far more dramatic critique of God.
At the same time, Jack Miles, the former Jesuit who wrote God: A Biography, asserts that while that the dialogue in this chapter reveals an enormous tension between God and the Israelites, the fact that the Torah preserves that tension says something important about the Torah itself. Miles writes:
“Morally, the originality of the same ancient authors and editors lies in their refusal to “ennoble” either God or Israel by making their story merely one of estrangement and reconciliation rather than, as it is, one one of continuous mutual complaint. Structurally, a simplification of that sort could have easily been managed. What would have changed would have been less the story line than the distinctive emotional tone--the spirit, in a word. By preserving the spirit of complaint--complaint against man in the name of God, and against God in his own name--on its first full-blown appearance, the ancient editors set something portentous in motion” (Jack Miles, God: A Biography, 133).
According to Miles, while we might recognize that the Israelites’ complaints are theologically audacious and religiously problematic, the fact that the Torah preserves those complaints means that the Torah wants us to know that it is possible, and even permitted, to express open doubts about God. Like the Israelites, our relationship to God must exist in a dynamic tension, and we must know that expressing those feelings may be a sign of doubt, yet it is also a sign that we are human.
When we teach our children about God, we are asking them to put their faith in something they cannot see, and it may be a too wide leap of faith to ask those children to embrace a relationship with God that makes no room for doubt, disobedience, or disbelief. While the Torah acknowledges that tension with God is messy, it is that messiness that characterizes any kind of relationship, and thus we must help our children work through the messiness, seeing how a relationship with God is that raw, but real, is the very kind of relationship we want them to develop. The more we help our children see that expressing doubt opens a holy space, the more our children will feel that the Jewish Community is the holy space in which they want to travel for throughout their Jewish lives.
Shabbat Shalom!
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