The Oasis

As we learn this week’s Sedra, a transition of sorts becomes clear. At the beginning of the Parsha, Bnei Yisroel has just left Mitzrayim, and a confusion of sorts reigns. They are shepherded into the desert, guided by the Amud Esh, and soon find themselves fleeing the very same masters they had left behind. After Krias Yam Suf, however, we find a different sort of people. Rather than an external enemy, they now face the tribulations of living the Midbar, and all the reality that comes with this existence. But there is another transition as well: in Marah, after struggling with the lack of potable water, they are given their first Mitzvos: “Sham Sam Lo Chok U’Mishpat V’Sham Nisa’u.”

It is certainly no coincidence that these transitional moments occur simultaneously—what remains for us is to understand why this is the case. Why were we presented with the first difficulty related to the Midbar and the first Mitzvos at the same time? It seems, though, that there is one Passuk which addresses elements of both transformations and may help us to better understand their intersection.

After telling us about the time Bnei Yisroel spent in Marah, the Torah tells us about their next destination: “V’Yava’u Elima,” they came to a place called Elim. The Passuk continues, elaborating on what they found when they arrived: “V’Sham Shtem Esrei Ayanos Mayim, V’Shiviim Temarim”. Elim was an oasis of sorts, complete with twelve springs of water and seventy date trees.

That the Torah mentions the fact that there were springs and trees does not seem out of the ordinary: this was a Midbar, after all, and the presence of water and vegetation is indeed remarkable. There seems to be an additional significance however.

The Ramban points out that in Parshas Maasai, when the Torah lists the various travels of Bnei Yisroel in the Midbar, there is almost no detail given about most locations, even when momentous events took place. For example, Matan Torah is not discussed when Midbar Sinai is mentioned. When it comes to Elim, however, the Torah once again mentions the “Shtem Esrei Ayanos Mayim, V’Shiviim Temarim.” It would therefore seem that there is a real significance to the presence of these natural resources at that spot.

We must therefore understand not only the hidden meaning of the springs and trees but also the amounts in which they were present. Both here and in Parshas Maasai the Torah makes a point of telling us how many of each were present, indicating that there is meaning to these numbers as well. Rashi, quoting the Michilta, the significance: the Ayanos Mayim correspond to the twelve Shevatim and the Temarim to the Shviim Zekeinim.

On its face, this Medrash seems like a nice connection between the numbers of springs and trees and other appearances of these numbers in Yiddishkeit, but we certainly know that there is something more that Chazal are trying to tell us.

This becomes more apparent if we look at the complete text of the Mechilta, which brings the opinion of R’ Elazar HaModai, who says that the Shtem Esrei Ayanos Mayim, V’Shiviim Temarim were specifically placed there from the time of Ma’aseh Beraishis. The oasis that Bnei Yisroel found in Elim was not haphazard—it was meant for them from the creation of the world itself. Certainly these were not just any springs or trees.

In light of this, we must understand why this spot, Elim, was created in such a way that it is specifically tied to the twelve Shevatim and the seventy Zekanim as the Medrash tells us.

In order to do so, it may help to consider the mindset of Klal Yisroel at this juncture.

The Abarbanel notes that when Bnei Yisroel traveled to Marah, the Passuk uses the words “V’Yisaem Moshe”, and Moshe caused them to travel. He explains that Bnei Yisroel were nervous: the Amud Esh that had been guiding them prior to Krias Yam Suf had left them, and they now faced the vast, desolate, Midbar seemingly on their own. Moshe therefore had to prod them along, encouraging them to travel, because he knew that they would soon reach the Har HaElokim, where they would receive the Torah.

It was this mindset, one of perhaps slight anxiety, that they reached Marah. As the Pessukim tell us, their time in Marah was somewhat difficult—it was there that they encountered their first desert-related trial, when the water was found to be bitter. It was also there that they received their first Mitzvos, as we mentioned, and then they decamped for Elim.

It would seem, then, that their arrival in Elim may have been accompanied by mixed feelings of sorts: in Marash they underwent tribulations, but also a connection to Hashem through Mitzvos, both new experiences. It was in this context that they found the Ayanos and Temarim.

The Netziv, in HaAmek Davar, explains that the message of Elim as follows: in Marah, where they had begun their journey of Ol Mitzvos, they had found bitterness, but now they had found sweet dates and the water necessary to sustain them. This is representative of the way our personal journeys, especially in the realm of Ruchnias, can seem as well: at the beginning it may be hard, Kol Haschalos Kashos, but if we apply ourselves we will find Torah and Mitzvos to be ever so sweet. Thus, when they arrived in Elim they were greeted by the Temarim and Ayanos that signified the bliss that could be attained if they continued in the Derech established in Marah.

We must still understand, though, why this message was sent via the twelve springs, corresponding to the Shevatim themselves, and the seventy Temarim, which were related to the Shivim Zekanim. Why was the message of the sweetness of Torah conveyed in this specific way?

Perhaps we can explain this based on a thought that the Shem M’Shmuel brings from his father, the Avnei Nezer.

The Gemarah in Bava Kamma tells us that when the Pessukim speak of water, Mayim, it often alludes to Torah itself, because “Ain Mayim Ela Torah”. Therefore, the Shtem Esrei Ayanos can be seen as related to the Torah. The Avnei Nezer explains that the Shevatim were not only related through biology, but each had its own Techunas Hanefesh and approach to Yiddishkeit. The twelve springs, then, corresponded to this variety of approaches—each one being equally valid. The Temarim, however, corresponded to the Zekienim who, though different people, had the same mindset and intentions. This is learned from the connection to the seventy people who came to Mitzrayim with Yaakov, who are referred to in the singular: “Shiviim Nafesh”, because they had a common attitude and approach.

Based on this, perhaps we can understand the message given to Klal Yisroel in Elim.

As we noted, Bnei Yisroel’s stay in Marah was one that likely caused a variety of emotions. They had experienced the initial difficulties that come with a dedication to Torah and Mitzvos, as the Netziv explained, but they also saw that the water could be made sweet, as it was by Moshe. They were then given Mitzvos with the implicit message that a relationship with Hashem was the path forward.

This may, however, have been overwhelming on its own: how were they to undertake such massive responsibility? Every person knows himself, and recognizes his strengths and weaknesses, making the notion of taking on the Ol Mitzvos quite daunting. It was with this reality on their minds that they reached Elim, where they found the Shtem Esrei Ayanos Mayim, V’Shiviim Temarim that had been waiting for them since time immemorial.

Upon seeing the twelve springs, representing the variety of approaches of the Shivtei Kah, Bnei Yisroel understood that there is no one right Derech—there are different paths for different people, and each one can be valid if it is undertaken correctly. This would serve to reassure them that they could attain the sweetness of Torah and Mitzvos despite their individual personalities, as they could each find a Derech Emes that suited them.

This was the message of the Temarim as well. The Ibn Ezra notes that there were not only seventy trees, but each was a different variety of date. As the Avnei Nezer explained, however, these trees correspond to the Zikeinim, who are of a common mindset. We can understand however that these two facts are not contradictory: our Zikeinim sometimes seem to be in conflict, their paths diverging from one another, but we must remain secure in the knowledge that they are one Nefesh, and their goals are one and the same. The message to Klal Yisroel was clear: different though our paths may be, we are led by Gedolei Yisroel, the Einei Ha’Am, whom serve Hashem in different ways with a common goal.

When Bnei Yisroel reached Elim, they may have been overwhelmed by their new responsibilities, but they were met with reassurance: there is a path for everyone, as long as it is in concordance with the Derech Yisrael Saba, and the Ziknei Yisroel, singular in their ultimate goal, serve as a guide for each of us.

Although we are geographically far from Elim, we can heed the message as well. No two people are alike, and we each have Ma’alos and Chisronos. We must not let that serve as an excuse, however. During the very creation of the world Hashem set aside a place to teach us that there is a Derech that works for each of us, and guided by Rabbeim and Gedolim, we too can find the sweetness of Torah.