Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Anything You Want To Be You Can Buy, Even Get It Free (John Barlow & Bob Weir - Heaven Help the Fool)



As an American family living in Toronto, my wife and I have shared a mutual concern for our children’s knowledge of American History, Geography and Civics.  We worry about their ability to find Texas on map of the United States,  the Rocky Mountains stand, or where the Mississippi River flows. We worry that they don’t know the difference between a Congressman (woman) and a Senator. We worry over their learning about the American Revolution, the Civil War, or the Gilded Age. So when our children have the opportunity to read or study about an event specific to American History, such as the Civil Rights Movement, Jackie Robinson, or the New York Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire; we tend to push them a little harder.  Needless to say, when “42” was released, we considered an educational opportunity.  During and after the movie our children asked all kinds of questions.  However when our son asked if I was alive when Jackie Robinson came to Brooklyn, I told him that I wasn’t even alive yet.  To give him some context, I told him that Grandpa was a kid during Jackie’s rookie season, and that Grandma, who grew up in North Carolina, remembers growing up in the Jim Crow South amid racial segregation. Our children realized that “history” wasn’t so long ago. Our daughter asked why did the some of the white players keep talking about “preserving the good old days” and the “way things have always been”? I laughed and was reminded of something my father used to tell me when the topic of the “good old days” came up. He used to tell me and my sister to be careful of listening to the embellished nostalgia for the “good old days.” Quoting the journalist Franklin Adams, our father taught us that “Nothing is more responsible for the good old days than a bad memory.” Bad memory plagues all of us in every generation.


This Shabbat we read from Parsha Bahalotcha. For the previous two Parshiot, Bemidbar and Naso, Bnai Yisroel has counted and prepared for their journey from Sinai to Eretz Canaan. This week, the final preparations are ordered and executed and the departure from Sinai begins. Aaron, Moshe’s brother and the Kohen Gadol, lights the lamp for the Mishkan, the entire Levite tribe is purified, offerings made and their service for maintenance of the Mishkan begins. Final instructions for observing Pesach under these new conditions, (they were not leaving Egypt anymore nor had they arrived in the land) were offered, including the case of coming into contact with the deceased and becoming spiritually impure. The narrative tells us the manner in which Bnai Yisroel traveled: sheltered by a cloud during the day, and protected by a pillar of fire at night. Then the complaining begins. They complain about the Mannah. They complain about the food. They complain about Moshe’s leadership. Moshe’s sister complains about his wife.

There is no mystery as to the timing of these complaints. Bnai Israel’s context had changed. For over a year they had been dwelling at the foot of Mt. Sinai. Now they would begin their journey, a journey that was supposed to take a week to ten days, and conclude with their arrival in Eretz Canaan, in Israel. Things are now no longer what they had been. Things are different. V’Hasafuf Asher B’Kirbo Hitavu Gavah VaYashuvu VaYivku Gam Bnai Yisroel VaYomru Mi Yachileinu Basar. The rabble that was among them cultivated a craving, and the Children of Israel also wept once more, and said, “Who will feed us meat?” Zacharnu et HaDagah Asher Nochal B’Mitzrayim Chinam Et Hakishuim v’Eit Ha’Avatichim v’Et HeChatzir V’et Habtzalim v’Et Hashumim. Remember the fish that we ate in Egypt free of charge; and the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions, and garlic. V’Atah Nafsheinu Yeveisha Ein Kol Bilti El Haman Einenu – But now, our life is parched, there is nothing; we have nothing to anticipate but the Manna!” (Num. 11:4-6). Talk about selective memory! The back breaking labor and the tears they don’t remember but the fish they ate free of charge; that was the essence of their more than two centuries of freedom? Had their memories become so selective and so poor so fast?

Amid the complaint is a clue that suggests that maybe their memory wasn’t as bad as first indicated, and the good old days in Egypt were maybe not so great.  The clue is in the word used to describe the “fish that was eaten free of charge”. The word in Hebrew is Chinam. Literally, Chinam means gratuitously; for no reason.  Ramban, the 13 century Spanish philosopher took the verse literally. Egyptian fisherman gave Bnai Yisroel the plentiful low quality fish that they caught.  Ibn Ezra, the tenth century linguist, philosopher, and astrologer, explained that fish was so plentiful that it was virtually free. However Rashi, the great 11th century French commentator, suggests that there is an alternative understanding of the word Chinam.  He based his comment upon the Talmudic Sages who taught that indeed, the food was free – it came with no sense of obligation, responsibility or mitzvot.

When the Talmudic sages discuss the reasons for the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash (the Holy Temple), they point to the concept of Sinat Chinam-Senseless or gratuitous hatred. When we apply that nuanced understanding of Chinam (senseless  and gratuitous) back to the all you can eat fish smorgasbord during the period of slavery; our understanding of HaDaga Asher Nochal B’Mitzrayim Chinam can be viewed as the idea that there was so much fish, it wasn’t considered precious or important.  Egyptians would wantonly throw the fish away. This unwanted fish was free of charge. Also the fish was so gratuitous, there was so much of it; it had no value and no one cared about it.  Yes, Bnai Yisroel had fish free of charge. They probably forgot to remind Moshe, that every meal contained the same unwanted fish that the Egyptian threw away. They probably forgot to tell Moshe that there was so much fish that during the heat of the summer, there was a horrible stench of fish rotting in homes and on the streets.  Indeed, the “Good Old Day” always seem better when we look back at them then when we live through them.

Peace,
Rav Yitz

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