Masei

We are beginning to study the weekly portion Mas'ei, and we will read chapter 33 of the book of Bemidbar. Throughout the whole history of Torah study, this chapter has puzzled the commentators. The thing is that the Torah is sparing with words, there is not a single superfluous word in it, not a single superfluous letter, and against this background it is of course surprising that forty-nine verses of our chapter are devoted to a list of the stations at which the people of Israel stopped on the way from Egypt to Canaan. Many of these stations were already mentioned in the Torah, and the question arises: why bring them here as a separate list? Why does the Torah say more about this than, for example, about the creation of the world? Why does the Torah give so much attention to listing these stations – the Torah, which can enclose many meanings in a single letter?

Some commentators say that since it is written here that Moshe wrote this down by the word of the LORD (and why is this specially stated? Did Moshe not write down everything else by the word of the LORD?), it means that only the LORD alone knows why we need this listing of the stations. Other commentators say: “All the stations are listed here so that the reader can arm himself with a map and see how miraculous Israel's stay in the wilderness was.” After all, one could suppose that the people of Israel did not walk in the depths of the wilderness but along its edge, near settlements: where one can trade something, where somewhere one could buy something, maybe even somewhere sow and harvest something, and “the wilderness” is just such a general, nominal name for Israel's journey. But if you look at the list of these stations, you can see that all these stations are inside the wilderness, in the depths of the wilderness, where it is hard to find bread, where it is hard to find water. And therefore the people's stay in the wilderness really was miraculous, and therefore, as these commentators say, all the stations are listed here, so that it can be seen that this was a constant miracle. And so that we know that while living in our world too (which can also be likened to a wilderness because of some disorder of its own), one can see miracles in one's life.

There are commentators who say that each of these stations has its own name, which symbolizes a certain situation in a person's life (where this is evident, I will point out what this or that station symbolizes). And these forty-two stations are forty-two life situations that every person has to live through. The number 42 has a certain symbolic meaning, there are many cases where the number 42 is connected with formation, with strengthening, with purification. This is 42 months, three and a half years, often for purification people speak of three and a half years; we know that from Avraham to Yeshua Mashiach there were 42 generations. Also in Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism) the name Mem-Bet (mem corresponds to the number forty, bet to two, that is, the numerical value 42) is considered one of the names of the Most High.

But still the question remains open. Such a number of answers shows that there is no single answer. There are commentators who say: “This is also about our life.” Yes, this is also about our life. In every place where we may find ourselves, even if it seems to us that we are walking in circles, the Most High is leading us. And if we have ended up somewhere and do not understand where exactly, then maybe afterwards, later, looking back on our life, we will understand why we were there, why we did things that way. Once Steve Jobs told how he went to study calligraphy, for no apparent reason at all. And later, when he was creating the first computer fonts, it came in handy for him.

There are many similar stories. I want to tell a story that I heard from a rabbi from Holon, Pinchas Alchois, who told about his mother, née Margolin. She was born in Bobruisk, into a Jewish Hasidic family. Bobruisk is a small town in Belarus, and in the prewar time probably very small. And every year, a week or two before Pesach, the mother sent her sister in Leningrad a jar of goose fat. She wrapped the jar in a large number of diapers, put it in a box and sent this parcel to Leningrad. Once, in the year forty, the mother came to the post office with the girl (she was then about six or seven) and ran into some, let's say, in quotation marks, “nasty” postal clerk, who did not want to simply send this goose fat and said: “Why, it'll spill, why, it'll get everything here dirty.” And after long persuasion he agreed to send the parcel if the mother went home, brought another box and put the box into the box – in short, he caused them no small amount of trouble and ordeals. And the mother, leaving the girl at the post office with this box, went home for another box for the parcel. The girl sat and cried for an hour and a half to two hours at the post office, hugging the parcel.

Soon the war began, the Germans entered Belarus. But shortly before that the mother decided to flee with her daughters, to flee to Tashkent. As is well known, Tashkent is a city of bread, but few people know that Tashkent in those times was also a Hasidic city. Many families fled there, because there are Hasidim there, because there was a Jewish community there, one could somehow get a foothold there. There was hunger on the road, the mother died on the road… And soon the little brother died too, and the woman we are talking about (then still a girl) was left alone with her younger sister, just the two of them. They were somehow found and placed in an orphanage not far from Tashkent, where they lived during the war. And after the war they gathered the children and asked: “Who of you knows, remembers the address of at least someone of your relatives? We will write to them, maybe the relatives will come and take you. If they don't come, then it means you will grow up here, in the children's home.” How can a girl remember an address? Well, there was an address in Bobruisk, but clearly in Bobruisk it is completely unknown what remained of the family: the mother died, the father went to the front and did not come back. In Bobruisk there is no one to look for. And the girl remembered how she sat at the post office with this, one could say, cursed parcel and, crying, looked at this Leningrad address. She remembered the Leningrad address of her aunt, and a letter was written to the aunt. There, too, a miracle of its own happened: the family was passing by their old apartment, the people thought of going in: “Are there any letters?”, and they were given that very letter. The uncle came and took the girl. Later she moved to Israel, to Kfar Chabad, built a Hasidic family, and now her son, a rabbi, told this story. And it is completely unknown what would have happened to her had she stayed in a Soviet orphanage. Probably she would have grown up a completely different person, would not have returned to the faith of her own people. This is one of the examples, it is just such a beautiful example. But I think that in his own life everyone can find an example of when he did not understand why he had ended up somewhere, and understood it only after a long time.

And the commentators say: “These stations, each of them, are intended for something. This whole list is there to show that the Most High leads us, leads us through life. And every time, wherever we are, it is needed for something, for something that maybe we will understand later.”

So, our chapter 33 of the book of Bemidbar begins with a list of the stations at which the people of Israel stayed during their passage from Egypt to the land of Canaan.

It is interesting that the Torah here speaks of the sons of Israel as a people that went out of Egypt. One could have said: “A people that set out for the land of Canaan.” What difference does it make where it went out from? What matters, after all, is where it went. And the commentators say: “The Most High had a plan, the Most High wanted to bring the people into the land of Canaan. But for the Jews at that moment it was more important to get out of Egypt, that was their first longing.” Therefore it speaks here of the state of the Jews, of their desire simply to run away. There is such a state, when first of all you have to run away from here, and it doesn't matter what will be there. That is the state the people of Israel were in.

Apparently, it is saying that some fragments of the idols could not simply be thrown away, simply carted off to the dump; they were also buried, as the firstborn were buried. Why does the Torah draw this contrast here? What difference does it make to us what the Egyptians were busy with when the Jews were going out? Maybe this is a lesson for us. Either you go, either you move with the Most High, or you bury the firstborn, that is, the fruit of your labor, your activity, your whole life, and your gods, upon which the LORD executed judgment, you also bury. Either you set out on the way, or you are busy with burials.

The word sukkót (the plural of the word sukká – booth, hut) means a place of temporary residence. The Israelites went out of Egypt, and at first there was a feeling of this very temporariness of being on the way, there was no permanence at all. At the same time these sukkót, these booths, are compared with the clouds of glory. In this temporary dwelling one had to feel God's protection upon oneself. A person, being temporary in this world, being in the wilderness, had to feel that God protects him. It was with this experience of protection, with this that everything was to begin. Therefore the first station, Sukkot, is a person's being in such a state when he maybe does not have everything, when he perhaps has only a hut, but he feels the protection of the Most High. This is one of the states that a person goes through in his life.

Etám – the name is Egyptian, it means a sealed place, a fortress. Besides the fact that a person can be happy and protected in a sukká, in a booth, a person can feel free in a fortress that does not hold him back, does not constrain him.

Pi-haChirot (literally mouth of freedom, gap of freedom) is a place, a gap, a passage that opens for a person and allows him to get out of some, it would seem, bewitched situations.

Mará (bitterness, gall) is a place of sorrowful experiences, sorrowful events.

We spoke about this in detail in chapter 15 of the book of Shemot. The word elím has many meanings. It can come from the word olám (world), and also – from the word he'elém (disappearance), it can also mean mute, struck dumb, deprived of the ability to speak, it can mean something unforeseen. It is interesting that here it is written they came to Elim, as if they did not intend to stop there, but found springs and palms there and therefore stopped there. That is, this place was as if not agreed on in advance, was not foreseen in advance as a station.

Literally sin means dust, sand. One can understand it symbolically (and we understand everything here symbolically) as humdrum, everyday life, routine.

The word dofká can be understood from the verb lidpók (to knock, to strike, to pound), when something pounds or someone is being pounded.

Alúsh is like a big city, a city in which life is bustling, a place in which you need to be strong, you need to be energetic. Of course, this happened in the wilderness, there were no large cities there, but they gave such names to their stations and, apparently, put a certain meaning into these names.

We already said (in chapter 17 of the book of Shemot) that one of the readings of the name Refidím may come from the words – rafím (weakening) and yadayim (hands), that is, lowered, weakened hands. Also the name Refidím can be translated from the word refidá (upholstery, lining), the verb lerapéd means to spread out, to lay, to upholster furniture, to make furniture soft. Refidím is what needs softening, where you need to lay down some straw, to make upholstery, or that where this softening is. Sometimes a person needs lerapéd atzmó, to upholster himself, to make himself softer, somewhere under the shell to lay such a soft lining.

Although this is perhaps not very correct from the point of view of the language, the name of the wilderness Sinái is often compared with the word siná (hatred). And it is held that from the moment Israel received the Torah, hatred came into the world, hatred toward the people of Israel appeared.

The name is translated as graves of whim (of lust). This place got such a name because of the story with the quail, it is told in chapter 11 of our book.

The name Chatzerót is literally translated as courts. There are Hasidic courts, there are royal courts. Maybe this symbolizes dependence on some person – like the life of a courtier, when you live and feed yourself at the expense of your dependence on someone else.

The name Ritmá can be compared with the verb lirtóm (to harness), that is, to be in a common harness with someone, under one yoke.

The name Livná can mean purity, whiteness (from the word laván, white); the same can mean paleness, weakness – it depends on how you look at whiteness.

The name Rissá can be connected with the word rís (eyelash) or trís (shutter, blinds) – that which covers the eyes a little, that which requires protection of sight; or when one needs to pay attention to sight, or some correction of sight.

The name Kehelát can be compared with the words kahál (society, audience), kehila (community); the verb lehakhil – to gather together, to preach a sermon; kohelet – a preacher in an assembly. That is, some society that is united by one idea, one sermon, one goal. By the way, a crowd is also kahal.

The name Shéfer can be connected with the verb leshapér (to improve, to correct, to make good), that is, to strive to improve quality.

The word charadá means fear, trembling, anxiety, possibly panic. Again it depends on whether this is in holiness or not.

The name Makhelót comes from the same root as the word kahál (society, audience). But these are no longer those who listen to a sermon together, this is already makhelá (choir), this is already a choir of people who are not just interested in one thing, but also speak the same way.

Táchat (under, below) is the bottom, the very lowest place. In modern Hebrew – a non-coarse word for the lower part of the back.

The name Mitká comes from the same root, mem-tav-kuf, as the words sweets, sweetness, fondness.

The word hashmaná, with the same root, is excessive fullness, obesity, abundance.

The word masór is a saw, it can also be a plane, that is, the thing one planes with, levels with.

Avroná is a place of crossing over some small obstacle (the verb la'avór – to cross, to pass through), maybe a place of a small overcoming of oneself,

The name of Mount Hor (or – light) contains the same root letters as the word Torah, that is, this is a mountain of teaching, a mountain of education.

This is the place we read about in chapter 32, in verse 34: the city of Divon, which went to the tribe of Gad (the tribe that wanted to settle without crossing the Jordan) and which was listed among the other cities. The tribe of Gad named these cities differently, and that is how Divon-Gad came about.

The name Avarím comes from the same root, ayin-bet-reish, as the word ivrí (Hebrew), from the verb la'avór (to cross over or to leave in the past).

With this ends this very longest list, the listing of all the stations at which the sons of Israel stopped on the way from Egypt to Canaan.

In the end, if you take pity, if you leave the inhabitants of that land, I will do with you what I planned to do with them, and it may turn out that you too will be driven out of this land.

With God's help we continue the study of the weekly portion Mas'ei and will read chapter 34 of the book of Bemidbar. One could say that this is a map chapter. How do you describe a map in words, especially a map of places where you have never been yet? Let's read.

There are borders according to the promise, what the Most High promised to Avraham, Yitzchak, Yaakov. For now the people of Israel are not yet found worthy of receiving this land as an inheritance, for now the people of Israel receive the land of Canaan as the very beginning of those places where the tribes will settle, from which the stages of the great journey will begin. It is very hard to draw maps, even harder to describe the map of a land in which Moshe had never been, and who was himself born in Egypt. And now he must sketch out the borders of the land for the people. Many of the names that will be mentioned here are known to us only roughly, approximately. We do not know everything thoroughly, and therefore very many disputes exist regarding the borders that are described here. Also there are very many settlements here with similar names, and when we read, for example, the name Arar, one says that this Arar is located roughly on the shore of the Kinneret; another says that – no, it is the Arar that is actually in Turkey, and someone here even imagines both Urartu and Armenia. Everyone interprets geographical names according to the flight of his own thought. This is often found in the interpretation of passages of the Tanach that concern the description of borders. Once Yasser Arafat, disliked by everyone, speaking at the UN, asked: “Do you know why Israel has two blue stripes on its flag?” Well, we know why: the flag resembles a talit, and a talit has two blue stripes, that is customary on many talitot. But Arafat gave another interpretation: “The Jews want to have imperial possessions from sea to sea, and that is what is reflected on their flag.” Everyone understands it the way he wants and sees it. So, the southern border.

This is the southern border. Here we can see that almost all the names of the cities are familiar to us.

It is simpler, of course, to measure a border by the sea. The Great Sea is the Mediterranean Sea (hayam hagadol).

That is, we simply move from the seashore to Mount Hor, on which, as we know, Aharon died.

These are the borders that Moshe gives. The borders do not correspond, by and large, to the promises, as I already said, that were given to the Patriarchs. The borders are given so that the people could settle in this place; one has to start with something. The Most High already explained, spoke about the land being given gradually. If you give the people too large a land in advance, many territories will remain uncontrolled, wild beasts will begin to make their way into them. In short, borders are given as a person masters the land. This, strictly speaking, concerns not only the borders of the land of Israel, it concerns everything in our life in general. Certain promises, certain gifts that we have are revealed gradually, at a certain speed. At the speed at which we can settle in at the level we have reached.

I will point out one very important detail. Here the Most High, in describing the borders, uses the verbs: and it will go up, and it will pass, and it will cross over, and it will return, and it will go down, and it will touch, as if the one drawing this border were dancing a certain dance, as if the border were in motion. And the people of Israel, moving together with the Creator, in this way form the limits of their land. In the same way an individual person must form his own borders, which it is also very important to be able to expand, guard and not let anyone harm.

It is interesting how the Most High speaks here. First He practically defines the borders, and then He says that the borders will be divided by lot. That is, this will be done on two levels: within the common borders the borders for each tribe will be announced by lot, we spoke about this in detail in chapter 26.

Here the topic of the borders ends, and further on there will be a conversation about the leaders of the people, who will determine the allotments in the land for the sons of Israel.

If someone follows the names, then one can see that some names repeat and there are certain tendencies in the names. With the name Kalev it is clear, Kalev is such an unusual name, which means dog. Shmuel (a name which we will later meet with the son of Chana, with the prophet) – the one whom God placed, put in by God. Ammihud – this is a people, beloved by the Most High.

Elidad – my God is tender, my God dandles me. The name Kislon means simpleton, a person living in simplicity.

Bukki – the smart one, Yogli is the one who makes discoveries, a curious person who digs, digs down to the bottom and makes discoveries.

Channi'el – have mercy on me, LORD. The name Efod is, interestingly, the kohen's breastplate, that is, the name denotes something that protects a person (in modern Hebrew a bulletproof vest is called by the same word).

Kmu'el is the one whom God raises up. The name of his father Shiftan – the one who knows how to judge fairly, a judicious person, a person able to draw a conclusion from some facts, to give new information.

Elitzafan – my God has hidden, my God hides me, does not let my plans be figured out or directs me. The name of his father, Parnach, denotes the one who takes care of children, one could say a guardian.

Palti'el – this is the one who finds refuge in God, a refugee fleeing to God. The name Azzan is the one who answers a call, the one who can show daring, to break the foundations of society in order to achieve justice.

Achihud is a name similar to the name Ammihud, which we mentioned above, it means my brother is the favorite of God, where my brother – can be any Israelite. Shlomi – whole or the one who bears the payment for everything.

The name Pdah'el means redeemed by the LORD.

Such are these names, which reflect what the people breathes, what the people lives by, those dreams, desires that the people puts into the names.

With God's help you and I continue to study the weekly portion Masei, and we will read chapter 35 of the book of Bemidbar.

As we know, the tribe of Levi did not receive an allotment in Israel. The Most High spoke about this in verse 23 of chapter 18 of our book and will repeat it in verses 1–2 of chapter 18 of the book of Devarim: “The kohanim, the Levites, the whole tribe of Levi shall have no portion and share with Israel; they shall eat of the fire offerings to the LORD and of His share. But he shall have no share among his brothers; the LORD is his share, as He spoke to him.”

In this there is also the fulfillment of Yaakov's prophecy for Levi (Bereshit 49:7): “…I will scatter them in Israel.” The Levites turn out to be scattered, and each of the tribes of Israel receives here the command to set aside several cities for the Levites. Since the Most High said that He would be their allotment, we can see (and this is not just symbolism, there is a deep meaning in this) that the cities of the Levites are the embassies of the Most High on earth. They are in a certain sense extraterritorial, such a special territory in Eretz-Yisrael. And this is important for us in order to understand what our chapter will speak about further on.

The plots could be used like any agricultural lands. In those times it was customary that most city dwellers had some land plots nearby. In megillat Rut we read that Bo'az lives in a city, and his allotments are located around the city, and every evening he returns home from his plots. Exactly the same command is given regarding the Levites. Even though the cities of the Levites are, as it were, embassies of God, the Levites themselves, since they are of flesh and blood, live a life of flesh and blood in these divine cities.

Around each city, along the perimeter, there is some plot, some territory a thousand cubits wide.

How is all this to be understood? Some commentators say: around the city there was a green park zone a thousand cubits (five hundred meters) wide, agriculture was not allowed there, it was all purely for beauty. And beyond the park zone there was another space two thousand cubits (a thousand meters) wide along the perimeter for agricultural lands. There is also another understanding: the city itself had dimensions of a thousand by a thousand cubits (five hundred by five hundred meters), and from its walls outward a plot two thousand cubits wide was measured off along the perimeter.

We need to understand the concept, encountered for the first time, of aré hamiklát (cities of refuge). What kind of cities are these, why must a murderer flee there, and why are these cities under the authority of the Levites?

In the book of Shemot (21:12–13) we read the words of the Most High: “Whoever strikes a person so that he dies, let him be put to death. But the one who did not want to kill, but God put it under his hand, I have provided a place for you where he can flee.” This is a very strange phrase, said by the Most High Himself: if he did not intend it, but God brought it under his hand. But this is exactly what a person can understand: God allowed the person to do this, it was not a manifestation of God's will, it is God's allowing. On the other hand, the Most High says: “I will appoint a place for him to flee to.” This is already a direct manifestation of His will, so that a person who killed through carelessness or by some accident would have a place of refuge. From chapter 21 of the book of Shemot we can see that the camp of the Levites (and so the commentators say), for whom God Himself is the allotment, was always a refuge for a person who had committed a killing through carelessness. The Levites do not protect an intentional murderer; this we also read in chapter 21 of the book of Shemot, in verse 14: “But if someone maliciously kills his neighbor by guile, take him from My altar to death.” Why does the Most High specify that one may take him from the altar? Because the place of the altar is also extraterritorial: it is the meeting place of the earthly and the heavenly. A person who has committed a killing with evil intent may think that one can flee to the altar under the protection of God, under the protection of the tribe of Levi. But such a murderer may be taken to death even from the altar.

So, the Levites protect the person who killed through carelessness, they provide him with a Levitical city of refuge. The Levites, as educators and teachers among the people of Israel, must re-educate this person, so in the opinion of some commentators. But far from always does a person who has committed a killing through carelessness really need re-education. This may be a quite pious, righteous person who, for example, is driving a car, and suddenly someone jumped out under his car, or some other unforeseen situation happened in which no unrighteousness showed itself in any way, no sin was committed in any way.

Why then must such a person nevertheless flee? We will try to understand this as we read. From verse 9 the Most High begins to explain to Moshe the laws about the cities of refuge.

Here the blood avenger is a representative of the family of the one killed, who will decide to avenge the blood.

There is a tradition that in the land of Israel there were no road signs. You could not find any sign: Jerusalem – twenty kilometers that way, or Be'er-Sheva – ten kilometers that way. There were no signs at all except those that showed the way to the cities of refuge. Special care was shown for the person who had to flee there.

From verse 16 the Most High gives various examples of situations connected with killing that may occur.

Today, thank God, there is no obligatory blood revenge. But such was the custom of the people in those times: a representative of the clan of the one killed had to avenge his relative; in many cases this was considered a matter of honor. The Torah says the following here: if a person struck with something iron, then he surely wanted to kill, he is considered a murderer. Regarding stone and wood there is a qualification: if this stone had sufficient weight to kill with it, or if this piece of wood was capable of killing. That is, the person understood that by striking with this he not only could kill, but would surely kill. In this case he is a murderer.

But the Torah commands the court to take into account not only the instrument of the killing, but also the motives that led to the killing.

From verse 22 the situation of an unintentional killing is described.

That is, after the trial the one who killed unintentionally is returned to the city of refuge, and the blood avenger has no right to touch him.

Why is the anointing with the holy oil specially mentioned? Usually a new high priest who took the place of the previous one was not anointed anew, but received the anointing of Aharon and was considered anointed with the holy oil. But there was a case when a priest was anointed specially: such an anointed high priest (kohén mashúach milchamá) encouraged the people before going out to war (we read about this in chapter 20 of the book of Devarim).

And here the Torah expands the concept of the high priesthood, saying that the death of such a high priest too frees a person from the necessity of being in the city of refuge, when the person committed some killing absolutely unintentionally. And, as we have already said, this can happen to a person who lives a righteous life, does not wish anyone evil and, God forbid, does not wish to kill anyone. But this person nevertheless committed a killing, and this changes his nature. And since there is some impurity in this changed nature, there follows punishment and exile, his resettlement into a non-earthly land. And this person is forbidden to go down from this half-heavenly city. In other words, it is forbidden to move away from the altar.

Figuratively speaking, he needs to hold on to the altar, that is, to be in the embassy of the Most High on earth, under the protection of the Most High and under the protection of the Levites, who to some extent are the representatives of the Most High on earth.

Why such a strange punishment? If a person in our time commits a theft, then the term of his punishment may be, let's say, from three to five years. If a person commits a killing through carelessness, he is given, for example, from three to eight years (these are just theoretical examples). Why in our case is the term of punishment unpredictable? Someone will sit for half a year, the high priest will die, and the person will be free. Someone will sit, maybe, forty, forty-five, fifty years, maybe he will sit his whole life, and the high priest still will not die. And this will turn into a life sentence.

A person waits for atonement. We read (Vayikra 16:16): “And (the high priest) shall atone for the Sanctuary from the impurity of the sons of Israel and from their transgressions in all their sins; the same he must do also over the Tent of Meeting, which is with them in the midst of their impurity.” The Levitical cities of refuge can be likened to the Tent of Meeting. The person is, as it were, in a sanctuary, and the high priest, performing the general atonement of the people, performs atonement also over the inhabitants of the cities of refuge. As long as the person lives in the city of refuge, the high priest who serves performs atonement over him.

In the book of Devarim (26:3) we read about what a person who brings the first fruits must do: “And come to the high priest who will be in those days.” An amazing phrase. After all, it is clear anyway that you cannot come to a high priest who will be two centuries from now, you cannot come to a high priest who has already died. Only to the high priest who is there in those days can you come. But it is precisely the high priest who will be in those days, precisely he is responsible for everything that happens with the people during his service. The death of the high priest is the end of the life of the person who is appointed to be an atoner, to stand on behalf of the people, who must atone for the sanctuary and the people from impurity. It is not about the term of punishment – it is about the term of the process of purification, which takes place as long as the high priest lives. When the Most High allowed this person to commit a killing through carelessness, the Most High knows how many years the high priest will live, the whole process has already been calculated. The person must be in this city (an extraterritorial city that is as if above the earth), in this state, so that his atonement takes place until the high priest dies. This is exactly how one can connect and understand why, first, the cities of refuge are connected with the Levites and why, second, this is connected with the high priest.

That is, a person sentenced to death cannot give a ransom for his soul. In which cases was it possible to take a ransom? There are situations of which the Torah speaks (Shemot 21:28–30): “If an ox gores a man or a woman and they die, then the ox shall be stoned, and its meat shall not be eaten, and the owner of the ox is not guilty. But if the ox was given to goring both yesterday and the day before, and its owner was warned, but he did not guard it, and it (the ox) kills a man or a woman, then the ox shall be stoned, and its owner put to death. But if a ransom is laid upon him, then let him give a ransom for his soul, whatever is laid upon him.” There is a situation when the owner answers for the crime of his animal, his ox, and he must be put to death. But since this person, the owner, did not kill by himself, but the killing was committed by his property, that is, the ox, here too it is a matter of killing through carelessness. And in such a case he can pay a ransom for himself, and then he will not be killed.

But the Torah tells us: only not in the case we have just read about in verse 31. If a person committed a premeditated murder, then he cannot buy himself off from the death penalty. And not in the case we will read about further on.

That is, it will not be so that a person says: “I killed through carelessness, I did not want to kill anyone, let me pay you so that I do not have to flee to the city of refuge.” No, in this case you may not take a ransom from the person. And why? What is the difference? What is the difference between the situation with a person who was lifting a barrel and dropped it, killing someone who was coming up the stairs behind him, and the situation with the owner of a killer ox? Although the owner was warned to do something with his ox, he did nothing, and his ox killed a person. The difference is that in our case the killer is not an ox, but the person himself, through him himself this killing took place, and this changes his nature.

Therefore you cannot take a ransom from a person who killed through carelessness so that he could, as it is written here, simply return and live in his land even before the death of the high priest. Maybe a person will say: “I have already lived here five years, let me get out of here on parole, for money.” No, that cannot be done either.

Not every killing is connected with bloodshed: one can, of course, kill a person in such a way that no blood is shed. But every killing is considered bloodshed. And every killing defiles the earth, as if blood had been shed on it. Who corrects the defilement? The Levites, the kohanim, the high priests. They are responsible for the correction, for the removal of impurity. But impurity cannot be redeemed with money. And justice in society commands that the murderer be punished, and if he is an intentional murderer, then punished by the shedding of his blood.

And, concluding the chapter, the Torah sums up.

Let us read again the passage from the book of Vayikra (16:16): “And (the high priest) shall atone for the Sanctuary from the impurity of the sons of Israel and from their transgressions in all their sins; the same he must do also over the Tent of Meeting, which is with them in the midst of their impurity.” In the midst of impurity there are islands: the Tent of Meeting and the cities of the Levites. And for atonement a person, as it were, disappears from the face of the earth and is resettled (until the death of the high priest) in a city of refuge. And after the death of the high priest, who stands on behalf of Israel, when one person is replaced by another, one can go out of the city of refuge to freedom. There are many midrashim, many traditions connected with this. For example, it is told that the mother (or wife) of the high priest fed those living in the cities of refuge so that people would not pray for the death of the high priest. A person sits in the city and thinks: “Until that one dies, I will not go free,” and begins, God forbid, to pray that the high priest would die. There was, thus, care that people would not pray such a prayer.

Such is the unusual care the Most High shows for a person who killed unintentionally. He resettles him onto His territory, resettles him into the Levitical cities, home to Himself, into His embassy on earth, for the Most High is the allotment of the Levites. The Most High shows care for a person who turned out to be a criminal without obvious guilt, who committed a grave crime and who, perhaps, will still have to live with this for a long time.

With God's help we will read chapter 36, with which the whole book of Bemidbar ends.

There is an interesting detail here; such small details get lost in translation because of the peculiarities of the language. At the beginning of the verse it is written rashé ha'avót (chiefs of the clans), and this ha before the word avot – this is the definite article, that is, this is some particular clan, which, according to the design of the Torah, singles itself out and shows care for itself, which is not bad. But they speak, they talk with rashé avót, here there is no definite article, these are simply the fathers of the clans of Israel. That is, it is about both the needs of a specific clan, the tasks of a specific clan, and the tasks of all Israel.

We read this story in chapter 27 of our book, when the question was being decided of who would inherit the allotment if there are no sons, no brothers or sons-in-law. Then it was decided that if there are no heirs, then the daughter (or daughters) would inherit the ancestral land. And now the sons of Gil'ad, the descendants of Yosef, came to Moshe with a question. What can happen now, in connection with this, what are they afraid of?

That is, it turns out that if a man, let's say, from the tribe of Dan or from the tribe of Re'uven marries one of these girls of ours, then our land will pass to his tribe. He will keep his own allotment, he will also get our allotment, and we will be left here without an allotment.

That is: here we have five girls. What will happen if they all marry boys from other tribes? We will lose the property of our tribe, our territories, because they will pass to others, and in this way your boys will expand their territories. And when your boys marry girls from other tribes, they too will in the same way acquire, expand territory. How then will we preserve our inheritance, which we received? How can we not lose the land because the women will marry and take the allotment with them? The tribe will become impoverished, for land is the main property. Let us take care to ensure the preservation of the inheritance, to somehow ensure the security of the tribes.

That is, choose whatever boy you like, but only within your own tribe. What principles of choosing a bridegroom are there in general? In the material world there is the concept of beauty (to choose a handsome one), there is the concept of money (to choose a rich one), there is the concept of noble birth (to choose one with connections). That is, you can marry a handsome guy, you can marry a millionaire, you can marry a prosecutor's son. These are principles of choice that are, so to speak, secular, bodily. In the spiritual world you can choose only a worthy one, that is, one with whom it will be more right for you, more true, to serve the Most High together, because you will look not only at each other, at each other – that, of course, yes. But you need to choose a person with whom it is good to hold hands and together look at the Most High. Which ones are these tov be'enehém (good in their eyes) – everyone chooses for themselves by any of the listed criteria, but only from their own tribe, so that the land does not go away.

And this rule is not only for the girls of Tzelofchad, but also for the girls of all the tribes of Israel.

That is, here Moshe speaks the right decision: one must guard the integrity of the territory of one's clan.

This is the last verse of the last chapter of the book of Bemidbar. And it is completely incomprehensible, at first glance, why the Torah ends with such a, it would seem, well, not very important legal trifle that Moshe resolves. Why does the whole book of Bemidbar, full of various events, both grandiose and less grandiose, full of various stories and laws, end precisely like this?

All this is in order to show us that the Torah is given to a person to grow into and responds to the needs of people. Some request arises, some need arises: a new generation came, or some single tribe, or all the people, and indicated some need. And Moshe gives the Torah's answer to their need, does not ignore it, does not say: “Sorry, I can't help you with anything,” but seeks from the Most High a way to answer their request. This epilogue is a command to all ministers, to all people who are approached for consultation. And it is considered the force of law, a true manifestation of righteousness, that the teacher seeks an answer to a person's request, trying (if it is possible, if it is lawful) to permit him what he asks, not to ignore his problem, to respond to his pain, to his various tasks, and so on. And I think that this is precisely why the book ends this way.

Besides that, in the last chapter of the book of Bemidbar the dialogue of Moshe and the Most High is described for the last time. The next book, the book of Devarim (Speeches), will describe only the speeches of Moshe. Moshe will retell the Torah, repeat the Torah to his people; therefore one of the names of the book of Devarim in Hebrew is Mishne Torah (repetition of the Torah), or Deuteronomy (repetition of the law) in the Russian translation. And we will not see in the book of Devarim the words: “And the LORD spoke to Moshe”; there will be only the speeches of Moshe himself. And therefore our book Bemidbar ends with the thought that the Torah develops, the Torah is given to a person to grow into, and teachers are appointed so that a person can grow together with the Torah.

Let us recall the story of the daughters of Tzelofchad, which we read at the beginning of chapter 27 of our book Bemidbar.

Five daughters of a man named Tzelofchad, who died and who had no sons, came to Moshe and said: “Our father died, he has no sons, but we as daughters still want to inherit from him, still want to receive an allotment among the brothers in our tribe, in the Holy Land.” Moshe turned to the Most High, and the Most High said to him thus: “The daughters of Tzelofchad speak truly. Indeed, if a man dies and he has no sons left, special care must be shown. Let the daughters inherit from such a man.”

In our weekly portion Masei we read an unexpected continuation of this story, in chapter 36: “And the heads of the clans drew near, by the family of the sons of Gil'ad, son of Machir, son of Menashe, of the families of the sons of Yosef, and spoke before Moshe and before the princes, the heads of the families of the sons of Israel. And they said: ‘The LORD commanded our lord to give the land as an allotment to the sons of Israel by lot, and our lord was commanded by the LORD to give the allotment of Tzelofchad, our brother, to his daughters. But if they become wives of the sons of anyone from the other tribes of the sons of Israel, then their allotment will be taken away from the allotment of our fathers and added to the allotment of that tribe in which they will be wives, and from our allotment, by lot, it will be taken away. And when the jubilee year comes, their allotment will finally be joined to the allotment of that tribe in which they will be, and from our tribe their allotment will be taken away.’”

The Most High showed care for the daughters who found themselves in a non-standard situation, but yet another problem arises, described in these verses. And besides care for the particular case, besides the importance of care for some specific people, care for society is important.

The tribe of Menashe, all its clan families also represent a value. Today it often happens that the majority gives way to the minority, gives up some of its values, gives up some of its principles – the main thing is not to offend, not to cause some discomfort to the minority. The Torah tells us here thus: “Yes, indeed, it is important to care for some specific, simple people who have found themselves in a non-standard situation, but that is one side. It is important that society be preserved.” It is important not only that the daughters of Tzelofchad receive land as an allotment, but that the values of the tribe of Menashe also be preserved, that its land be preserved.

Therefore we read in verse 5 of chapter 36: “And Moshe commanded the sons of Israel according to the word of the LORD, saying: ‘The sons of the tribe of Yosef speak justly.’” As care for the particular is just, so care for the general is just too. As care for the minority is just, so care for the majority is just too.

Therefore the LORD commanded thus (36:6–7): “To whoever is good in their eyes they (the daughters of Tzelofchad) may be married, but only in the family of the tribe of their father shall they be wives. So that the allotment of the sons of Israel does not pass from tribe to tribe, for each of the sons of Israel must be attached to the allotment of the tribe of his fathers.”

Yes, indeed, it was important to take care of the daughters of Tzelofchad, so that they would receive land among their brothers. But now they too must take care of their brothers. Yes, this limits their freedom of choice: they cannot choose a bridegroom for themselves from the tribe of Dan, Gad or Re'uven, they can choose a bridegroom only from their own tribe. But this limitation of freedom is important so that a greater value may triumph – the integrity of the clan, the integrity of the tribe, the integrity of the allotment that fell to the tribe by lot.

Both the particular is important, the daughters of Tzelofchad speak rightly, and the general is important, the sons of Yosef speak rightly. And only so must it be: these two parts, these two components must be in harmony with one another. This is what the Torah teaches us.

Read also the portion Matot, the portion Pinchas, the portion Behar about land and redemption and the weekly portions of the Torah.