B'midbar- Into the Wilderness

With this parasha, we begin the book of B’midbar. B’midbar- In the Wilderness- is also known as the book of Numbers. It is in this wilderness where transformation of the people happens. The population ebbs and grows creating a new, stronger people from out of B’nei Yisrael. The older generation, ultimately fated to die in the desert, passes on its teachings, both the successes and the mistakes, to the younger, lessons of faith and lessons of action. 

This week also marks the 31^st anniversary of my becoming bat mitzvah. Thirty-one years ago I was not as interested in the lesson of the parasha or the haftarah as I was in leading the parts of the service I could and being able to sit on the bima next to our hazan. What I didn’t know was the connection my life would have to the parasha. Not only were the Israelites entering into a wilderness of unknowns, but, as a new teen and Jewish adult, so was I.

B’midbar is a book of firsts. The Torah is continuing to evolve. From Sinai on God continues to give instruction. It is not a stagnant text. Explanation and illumination continue. The connection to the land of Israel as our ancestral home grows within this Israelite generation, individuals who had known no other land, only the wilderness. We may be in the midbar, but we are looking towards home. As if connected to that vision, my parents planned our first trip to Israel. It would be the first of many for each of us, although the only trip we took as a family. Thirty-one years later, I am in a similar place. It is Rav Sean’s and my turn to plan our family’s first trip to Israel. Now until next spring will be a year of celebration as both Gavriel and Keren become b’nei mitzvah just under a year apart. This will be followed by a trip to Israel. We will be celebrating their newfound Jewish adulthood and responsibility, not looking towards our homeland, but on the Tayelet overlooking Yerushalayim.

Israel is itself on the edge of a wilderness. With a change in party power in the government, with excitement about a unified yet pluralist Jewish observance, we do not know what path Israel will follow. But, taking with us the lessons of the past, we look toward our homeland with excitement for the future.

Thirty-one years ago I celebrated my bat mitzvah, sans tallit, sans aliyah. In Israel I watched, from behind the mechitza, as the boys on our trip celebrated at the Kotel. I celebrated atop Masada. Now, coming out of the wilderness, we look toward our children celebrating together, davenning at Robinson’s Arch, aka the Masorti Kotel, and each, in his and her tallit and t’fillin, having an aliyah laTorah in Israel.  We hope you will join us.