Matot/Ma'asei

The Bible can be boring. 

“These are the marches of the Israelites who started out from the Land of Egypt, troop by troop, in the charge of Moses and Aaron.  Moses recorded the starting points of their various marches as directed by God.  Their marches, by starting point, were as follows…”  (Numbers 33:1-2).  I will spare you the long list of place names.  Like the interminable “begats,” this is a list that feels empty, purposeless.  Why are they included in the Torah?  What is sacred about them?  Who cares?

Answering this question, the midrash tells the story of a king whose son became sick.  Since medical care in his kingdom was insufficient, the ruler takes his boy to a distant land for treatment.  On the way back, the father recounts tenderly what happened at each place where they stopped:  “Here you had to rest.”  “Here you had a headache.”  “Here you could not sleep.”  To an outsider, the places mean nothing.  To one who loves, they mean everything.

I have lived in Los Angeles, Madrid, Los Angeles, Boston, Cairo, New York, Key West, Los Angeles, Mallorca, Los Angeles, Jerusalem, Los Angeles, Auckland, and Tempe.  And in each one of them, I have learned, encountered, suffered, and evolved.  To anyone else, this list is merely a sequence of place names.  To me, it is my life.

What are the places of your life?  What makes them special?

Balaak 5772

When messengers ask the prophet Balaam to curse the Israelites, he tells them “spend the night here, and I shall reply to you as God may instruct me” (Numbers 22:8).  In other words, “I’ll sleep on it.”

It makes good sense to sleep on a big decision.  So often, we rush into things because someone else expects an answer, not because we’re ready to choose.  We seek to please others and, in our haste, might not make the best choice for ourselves.  The pressure is exacerbated in our microwaveable, text-messaging, “buy-now-limited-time,” drive-thru culture.

While quick decisions can often be insightful (see Malcolm Gladwell’s Blink), I find that “sleeping on it” gives my unconscious the chance to mull a choice, to play with possibilities, and imagine outcomes.  I may go to bed unclear, but I often know exactly what to do or say upon waking.  I wonder whether the voice we attribute to the unconscious is the same one the ancients heard as God.

This is a lesson taught by Shabbat, revolutionary in our time:  things can wait.  Tomorrow will come.  So slow down, allow your mind to refresh itself.  Sleep on it.