Into the Unknown
Rabbi Sara Mason-Barkin, 5.22.20
Parashat BaMidbar
Congregation Beth Israel, Scottsdale, Arizona
As a rabbi’s kid, it should come as no surprise that I started going to services at a pretty young age. My brothers and I had little traditions and rituals, like inching towards the end of the pews when we got to Aleinu so that we could be the first in line for oneg cookies, and pointing out all of the places where our dad changed the words of the prayer book, turning all of the male language gender neutral before there was a revised edition of the prayer book. We also had favorite readings that we thought were funny for one reason or another. My best friend and I even had a little shtick we would do, reciting a story from the siddur in our best rabbi voice. (Disclaimer here: I never claimed to be a cool kid. Now you know the truth. I really, really wasn’t.)
“Rabbi Chayim of Tzantz used to tell this parable,” we would recite.
“A man, wandering, lost in the forest for several days finally encountered another. Brother, show me the way out of this forest!” One of us would shout. Then, laughing, we would stretch out our hands, and the other would respond, “Brother, I too am lost! I can only tell you this. The ways I have tried lead nowhere. They have only led me astray. Take my hand, and let’s search for the way together.” And then we would conclude, doing our best impressions of my dad: “And Rabbi Chayim would add, ‘and so it is with us. As we go our separate ways we may go astray. Let us join hands and search for the way… together.’”[1]
And inevitably, we would collapse into giggles, and turn our attention to one of our other favorite shticks or games.
And I wonder, looking back on it now, if the reason we had this little blurb memorized was because we really found it so funny, or if, perhaps, there was a truth there that resonated as we navigated the notorious wilderness of middle school.
Last week we left the book of Leviticus, and entered BaMidbar, the book of Numbers. The word BaMidbar literally means ‘in the wilderness,’ as it chronicles the Israelites continued journey through the desert, their extended route from Egypt to the promised land. Like Rabbi Chayim’s parable, and like us, the Israelites are making their way though… dare I say it? Uncharted waters, unprecedented territory, uncertain times. We have never resonated so deeply with the journey through the midbar.
Journeys, of course, are a common trope in beloved stories. I recently watched an excellent film that chronicles a young woman’s calling to lands beyond. Through the dangerous journey she connects with her past and her present as she battles the elements, struggles with her relationships, and comes into her own… and the end of the film, the Frozen Queen once known as Elsa of Arandelle relinquishes her title to find freedom with the Northuldra people… (sorry for the spoiler, if for some reason you’ve been waiting to see Frozen 2.)
For those of you who don’t have a five year old girl watching this on repeat at your house, I highly recommend that you see it at least once — because the Disney corporation has brilliantly tapped into something innately human. As Elsa looks out upon her village, she hears a voice calling to her Into the Unknown. She is drawn to leave her home and see what awaits her in the world beyond. Much like the Israelites, she is both hesitant and determined to begin the journey.
Joseph Campbell first wrote about this literary device in his 1949 book The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Campbell explains that the ‘Hero’s Journey’ takes the main character from the known, into the unknown, and back again — while facing a series of obstacles and ultimately undergoing a process of transformation.[2] Nearly every story we’ve loved fits into this structure. From the Wizard of Oz to Star Wars to Harry Potter to yes, both Frozen 1 and 2. In the protagonists of our favorite stories we see ourselves: our own struggles, our own obstacles, and hopefully, our own transformation. As our heroes plunge into the unknown and defeat their demons, it feels like we, too, might be able to make it through the wilderness and overcome all that stands in our way.
In the book of the Numbers, the Israelites are on a collective hero’s journey of their own. As a people they are transforming, learning who they are destined to become as they meet challenge after challenge on the way to the promised land. By the end of BaMidbar, the next generation of Israelite people will stand at the banks of the Jordan river. Once again they are about to cross the water. Once again, they prepare to enter new territory ahead.
We are standing at a threshold here, tonight, too. The Governor has announced the transition from Shelter-In-Place to phase one of reopening. Next week you will receive guidelines from us here at CBI about what it will look like as we gently reopen our synagogue doors with joy and with caution. We, too, have faced a series of challenges in getting to this point. We are exhausted and we are triumphant. We have had to make enormously difficult decisions, from postponing anticipated b’nei mitzvah, to closing our beloved Camp Stein for the summer. As we get ready to join the rest of Arizona in a careful return to socially distant gathering, we find ourselves facing yet another obstacle: there are competing values at play.
We want you to be safe. And we want to see your faces.
We want to hear this room filled with song once again (albeit through the muffled sound of face masks),
and we want you to make the difficult choice to stay safe at home
if you are particularly vulnerable to Covid-19.
We know that so many of you are lonely or grieving.
Or, perhaps you are ready to celebrate a simcha already!
In our hands we hold two midot, two values:
lo tov heyot ha-adam l’vado,[3] it is not good for a person to be alone,
and the value of briyut, health and safety — specifically, your health and safety — as our top priority.
We are stepping into the unknown.
We have never had to reenter buildings and synagogues and prayer spaces in the midst of a global pandemic before.
Parashat BaMidbar takes a particular interest in the role of the Levites throughout the journey from Egypt to the Promised Land. The Levites, whose primary job was to assist the priests in their holy tasks, were divided by ancestral lines in their roles. This parasha speaks specifically about the Kohathites, the descendants of Kohath, son of Levi. The Kohathites were responsible for protecting sacred ritual items. Part of this job meant transporting the mishkan itself, the portable ark of the covenant, through the desert as the Israelites made their way through the wilderness.
Rabbi Elyse Frishman quotes Hilchot Klei haMikdash (2:13). Here, Rambam explains that the Kohathites would not face out towards the desert as they traversed the rocky path, but rather, they would face inward — both towards the ark itself, and towards one another.[4] This is a reminder that as they navigate the midbar, as they move through the wilderness, they are able to lock eyes with one another and keep the Divine presence between them. In other words, the people move together, and God is right there with them.
One thing is clear on every hero’s journey: while we all navigate our own path, nobody does so alone. Along the way the hero meets helpers and mentors who reach out to guide them down the right path. The enduring lesson of Frozen 2, and every other story that follows the trope, is about trust, and partnership. While ultimately each of the main characters finds her own destiny, they still need to both support each other, and ‘let each other go’ (see what I did there?) to become their fullest selves. And of course, this lesson applies to nearly every other movie and book that follows this course.
In the days ahead we will each traverse the distance from the known, to the unknown, and hopefully, back to the known. We each need to chart our own path as to when we feel ready to go get groceries, go to the gym, visit with friends, and return to synagogue. But we don’t do it alone. Like the Kohathites who transported the mishkan, we make these decisions while locking eyes with our loved ones, the sanctity of our lives and our health at the center.
We may take the first step as individuals, but we are in no way alone.
We are entering the next phase.
We are stepping into the unknown.
We are traversing the wilderness.
We remember:
A man, wandering, lost in the forest for several days finally encountered another. ‘Brother, show me the way of this forest!’
“The man replied, “brother, I too am lost. I can only tell you this. The ways I have tried lead nowhere. They have only led me astray. Take my hand (metaphorically, of course, because of social distance), and let’s search for the way together.”
And Rabbi Chayim would add, “and so it is with us. As we go our separate ways we may go astray. Let us join hands and search for the way… together.”
[1] Gates of Prayer: The New Union Prayerbook. Central Conference of America Rabbis, New York: 1975. pp349–350.
[2] Campbell, Joseph. The Hero With A Thousand Faces. Joseph Campbell Foundation, Novato: 2008. (Original edition copyright 1949 by Bollingen Foundation.)
[3] Genesis 2:18
[4] https://reformjudaism.org/learning/torah-study/bmidbar/surviving-economic-wilderness
