Stations Along the Journey

Stations Along the Journey
D’var Torah for Parashat Mass’ei
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

As holiday times approach, at our home we take out bags and bags of decorations that Hannah and Jonathan had made when they were little. Sally, who is the organizer in the family, keeps them all stacked, labeled and dated, all within easy reach. We love putting up these decorations, each of which reminds us of a specific time and place in our family life. Here is the “backpack” Chana made out of a paper shopping bag when she was in kindergarten and they pretended that they were Israelites leaving Egypt; there is the dreidle Yoni had made out of clay when he was about the same age. The decorations get more clever and sophisticated as the kids grow older. Each represents a stage in their development, steps along the road toward who they have become in time, the grown and mature young adults they are today.

We get a lot of pleasure as we look at these markers. They are filled with inventiveness, creativity and joy. There’s some nostalgia involved, to be sure, but in each we can already identify characteristics that will develop further with each year that passes. The decorations are a road map that helps us understand our children better even today.

Much in the same way, this week’s Torah portion, Mass’ei (“journeys,” the last portion in the book of Numbers, chapters 33-36), is a recap of all the stops that the Israelites had made during their years of wandering in the Sinai Wilderness. The indirect, meandering path they took from Egypt to the Promised Land was also a spiritual journey, an aliyah. Each of the forty-two stops mentioned in the Torah portion recalls a part of that journey; each is a stepping stone or a marker that represents not only a place in the map, but also a station in the growth and development of the Jewish People.

As we look at each of these stops, we recall the events that took place there. Some are joyful: The finding of water; the gift of manna; the gift of Torah itself. Other places remind us of failings and tragic events—the loss of hope; the death of Aaron; the quarrel at the Place of Bitter Waters.

While they are part of the specific story of the Exodus, the places and events symbolically also represent the life of each human being in all generations. The Lubavitcher Rebbe taught that “Pauses, interruptions and setbacks are an inadvertent part of a person’s sojourn on earth. But when everything a person does is towards the goal of attaining the ‘Holy Land’ – the sanctification of the material world—these, too, are ‘journeys.’”

Beyond recalling the roadmap, Parashat Mass’ei contains instructions for how the Israelites must live in the Promised Land once they get there. Judaism emerged from the primordial cultural muck that existed up until that time. The practices of the Canaanites—the people who dwelt in the Promised Land before the Israelites settled in it—were abhorrent to God not because of God’s jealous nature, but rather because they were immoral and brutal. Child sacrifice, injustice and abuse were normative among the Canaanites. In contrast, the Israelites are directed to establish different practices. The division of the Land is to be done according to each tribe’s size. No one tribe is to be allotted more or less than it needs. Above all, the Israelites are instructed to build six refuge cities, towns where an accused murderer could flee from the blood avenger until his case is judged by a proper court of justice. The shedding of innocent blood corrupts not only humanity, but also the earth itself.

The Promised Land is not a gift given lightly or arbitrarily. It’s a loan, replete with conditions of repayment of principal as well as accrued interest. Default—failure to maintain these conditions—means we lose our right to the land.

The road from “entitled” to “deserving” is not necessarily a straight or easy one. Just as children have to grow and mature, just as they must fall before they learn to walk on their own, so too must we learn that the blessings of life don’t become ours automatically. Along our own journeys, we grow from stage to stage, from station to station. I’m not sure if there are 42 stops or perhaps more. But in retrospect, as we retrace our steps, as we recall a particular song or dance, our first love, our first—or one hundredth—failure, the setbacks and successes along our lives, we realize that we too have matured along the way. Each step, each experience hopefully brings us closer to the Promised Land.


May we learn to take steps that lead us forthrightly, that add meaning, strength and purpose to our lives; may each stop along the way become filled with holiness. May our journeys brings us closer to our own Promised Land, and may we learn to enjoy its fruits in joy and peace.

Chazak chazak v’nit-cha-zek; let us be strong and of good courage, and may we all be thereby strengthened.



©2011 by Boaz D. Heilman