Parashat Chukas

And the nation spoke [slanderously] of G-d and Moshe, “Why have you taken us up from Mitzrayim to die in this desert for there is no bread and there is no water and our souls are disgusted with this light bread.”

BaMidbar 21:5

After forty years of tireless complaint, the Jews have perfected their art. Generally their agony is justified, but they are punished for the manner in which they complain. After Miriyam dies, for instance, the Jews are without water and rightfully complain to Moshe. But what do they complain about? They claim that Hashem brought them to die in the desert and that they will never reach the land of grain, figs, grapes and pomegranates. “Also,” they casually remark, “there is no water to drink.”

Again, after Aharon dies and the nation retreats 7 journeys, they recover all their lost ground only to move back off course, from Hor HaHar back towards the Yam Suf in the very direction of their retreat. The Jews’ disgust with their journey is therefore very much justified, but their complaint focuses on everything but the journey. First they complain they have no bread. Then they complain they have no water. And lastly they complain that the bread they do have builds up in their stomachs until they eventually explode.

What basis do these gripes have? What do they have to do with the roundabout journey? Are these claims even true? Did the Be’air really stop giving them water again? Did the Man really stop falling? What then do they mean that there is no bread and there is no water? After forty years of eating Man, now they begin to worry whether the Man will explode in their stomachs?

At the same time, it is fairly clear that the Bnei Yisrael are more than just a bunch of Misonenim, whiners. If they really wanted to whine over every imaginable woe, they would again complain over the lack of grain, figs, grapes and pomegranates, as they complained in Kadeish. Here they are very specific about the lack of water and bread, although there is really no reason to think they lack water or “bread” (in the form of Man, at least). All this while, some of their claims border heresy:

“And they spoke of Hashem and Moshe,” they equated the servant to his Master.

Rashi, BaMidbar 21:5

Not since Cheit HaEigel has the nation mistaken Moshe as the man who brought them up from Mitzrayim. Why does Moshe all of a sudden get so much credit? Shouldn’t the people know better? All things considered, this misattribution fits fairly well with the rest of their senseless claims.

Or maybe the people didn’t really mistaken Moshe’s powers with Hashem’s but were rather trying to make a point by equating him to his Master. After all, the people received their ‘bread’ and water daily by the Zechus of Moshe Rabbeinu. After the deaths of Miriyam and Aharon, Moshe still provided water from the Be’air, and by means of his Zechus, he was able to hit the well and yield enough water for the whole nation. Perhaps this matter also distinguishes the bread and water from the other foods the people truly lacked. And in a way, maybe we can even consider the bread and water to be items the people lacked.

The opening Medrash in Esteir Rabbah expounds on a pasuk at the end of the Klalos in Ki Savo (28:66), “and your life will hang in front of you, and you will not be certain of your life, and you will be scared night and day.” Chazal explain that each clause of the pasuk describes a person with very little food. The first clause refers to one with a year’s supply, the second to one who frequents the granary, and the third to an individual who buys his bread daily from a baker. Although in each case the individual has bread, he is uncertain from where he will get bread next year, next week, or the next day respectively; therefore he is cursed.

The curse itself is rather bizarre, for if this cursed individual always gets his bread from the farmer or baker, what then does he fear? A famine? Surely the farmer and baker are equally worried about famine, if not more worried. But this individual possesses no control over whether he will have food the next year, next week, or next day. At least the farmer and baker retain some control over their sustenance, for they constantly involve themselves with the production of the food. But the moment one’s food just appears, without any personal input, one begins to feel a discomfort that as easily as the food appeared it too can disappear.

The same was true of the people in the Midbar, for their food was not directly provided on account of their desires or requests. Indeed we find them complain to Moshe how they have no water after Miriyam dies; if they could simply ask Hashem for water, they most probably would have. Instead, Moshe must deliver their water, just as he delivers their Man, through his own Zechus. And while the people maybe have had enough food to last them the day, they could never feel comfortable or confident that they would have food the next day. They felt cursed, and they felt as if they had no food or water at all.

Perhaps this understanding also explains why the Jews complained over the lack of bread before the lack of water. A person can live over a week without food, but no more than a few days without water; which complaint then is the more urgent? But before Moshe ever took over responsibility of providing the people with water, he was always responsible for their food. The Man always fell in Moshe’s Zechus. Therefore, the people focused their complaint on the Man, and added a similar complaint about the Be’air in on the side.

The general disgust of the people was not a physical one. They were not starving to death, but they felt emotionally disgusted and they could not enjoy their food. In a sense, it was not their food. They had not earned it and so they could not enjoy it. And there was no guarantee it wouldn’t explode in their stomachs, especially if they ate on account of another’s merits.

The nation certainly understood that Hashem took them out of Mitzrayim and that Moshe was His servant, but to what effect did this hierarchy matter if they could not communicate with Hashem themselves. If they needed water or food, they had to turn to Moshe, as if their connection to Hashem were meaningless without their connection to Moshe. As a result of their complaint, Hashem commands Moshe to construct a copper snake and place in on a post. All those in need of aid should stare at the snake and concentrate on the heavens. Within this remedy is a fairly basic response to the complaints of the nation, for while Moshe still provided the means for their remedy, namely the snake to which they stared, the cure itself still came from above, and their concentration on Hashem factored greatly into the healing powers of the snake.

Although the journey around Edom at first framed the nation’s focused return to Hor HaHar as a silly waste of time, Klal Yisrael came to recognize that their focus and dedication to every step of their journey was indeed as important as their destination. Were they to simply forgo the return to Hor HaHar, they would neglect the value of those seven Masa’ot they originally embarked upon and all of their spiritual growth along the way. But by returning, even if only to immediately turn around and head back towards the sea, the nation showed a certain resolve, a special dedication to the steps of their journey through the Midbar. It was a journey they could not necessarily control, but one still that they could focus their hearts towards the heavens and grow upon and learn from.