Thanks But No Thanks

Besides the Halachos that are mentioned in this week’s Parsha, the Torah begins to tell us about the events that unfolded in the final year of Bnei Yisroel’s trek through the Midbar. Among the incidents described is one that many of us might be familiar with in general but, as is often the case, a more detailed exploration may yield new insights.

The Pessukim tell us that after the death of Aron HaKohen, Bnei Yisroel were led on a path that seemed circular, travelling around Eretz Edom. At that point, the Torah tells us, “Vatiktzor Nefesh Ha’Am Badrech”, the people became restless. As a result of their discomfort, there were members of Klal Yisroel who complained to Moshe about not only their route, but their sources of food and water as well. Hearing their complaints, Hakadsoh Baruch Hu sent venomous snakes and serpents to bite them, killing many people. Realizing their mistake, and fearing for their lives, Bnei Yisroel cried to Moshe, asking him to intercede on their behalf. When he did, Hashem told him to make a snake and place it upon a pole, and that anyone who saw the snake would be healed. Moshe did as he was told: he made a snake out of copper and placed it high up so that it could be seen, and anyone who looked at it was saved.

This synopsis of the episode, while succinct, omits the many details that are included in the way it is presented in the Pessukim, and which require explanation.

First, the Torah makes a point of telling us that Bnei Yisroel complained about both Hashem and Moshe Rabbeinu: “VaYidaber Ha’Am B’Elokim U’viMoshe.” Rashi explains that in doing so they equalized the Rebbe, Hashem, and the Talmid, Moshe. A similar idea is seen in their actual complaint, which begins with the words “Lama Helisanu,” in the plural form. Rashi here echoes his previous comment, explaining that the people put Hahsem and Moshe Rabbeinu on equal footing, placing the perceived blame on both. We must understand why this is notable—why did the Torah make a point of telling us, not once but twice, that Moshe and Hashem were equalized in the grievances of Klal Yisroel?

The punishment that was sent, poisonous snakes, requires some explanation as well. Rashi explains that the snakes were sent because just as the original Nachash was punished for being “Motzei Diba”, falsely slandering Hashem, the Bnei Yisroel were punished for their Aveirah of being “Motzei Diba” with snakes. Why though was this their punishment specifically now? We know that there was at least one other time, the Chet Hameraglim, that there was an Aveira of being Motzei Diba, yet the snakes came now, and not at those times. Why was this the case?

Rashi does offer a second connection between the Aveirah of the Yidden and the Nachash: The Jews complained about the Mon, which had the ability to taste like anything, and the punishment of the Nachash was that everything he ate had the same taste—the ground. Thus there was the element of Middah Kneged Middah in punishing Bnei Yisroel with snakes. This second Pshat of Rashi requires explanation as well—how are we to understand this rather tenuous connection between the Aveirah and the Onesh?

The final element that needs further explanation is the cure that was provided. Hashem told Moshe to make a Saraf, and the Torah tells us that Moshe made the Nachash out of Nechoshes, copper. Rashi, based on the Medrash Rabba, notes that Moshe Rabbienu had the idea to make the snake out of copper on his own, because the words Nachash and Nechoshes are related. The Ramban, however, points out that Hashem used the word Saraf, not Nachash, and so Moshe took the extra step of relating Saraf to Nachash and in turn Nachash to Nechoshes. If that is the case, what was it that compelled Moshe to make this deduction and indeed form the snake out of copper?

In a more general sense, one wonders why the cure had to come about in this way at all. The Daas Zekenim says that Hashem specifically wanted the cure to come from the Makkah: “B’Nachash Hikkah, U’binachash Marpeh,” he smote with a snake, and cured with a snake. Why? There are other examples of punishments given to Klal Yisroel in the Midbar, some that required human intervention to be stopped and some were ended by Hashem himself, but never do we see this element of the cause and cure being related. This being the case, it is important to understand why this episode was different, why eh Yeshua had to come about in this way.

In order to answer these questions, we must first understand what Aveirah was committed, and why it was so grievous.

The Medrash Aggadah explains that their route at that point was indeed circuitous, but there were two reasons for this: first, to avoid Eretz Edom, the land of their most vicious enemy, and second so that they would pass through Eretz Og V’Sichon and be able to claim it as their own, as we see at the end of the Parsha. Their complaints, then, which were rooted in the feelings of “Vatiktzor Nefesh Ha’Am Badrech” were completely based in an attitude of Kefias Tov. The addition of complaints about the Mon, Lechem Min Hashamayim, and their water, which also came B’Derech Nes, was further evidence of this attitude: rather than being thankful for what they had, they groused and grumbled.

After considering the words of the Medrash, there seem two aspects of their complaints which highlight just how egregious their behavior was in this case.

First, we can note that this is not the first time Bnei Yisroel complained about the Mon—they did so earlier in Parshas Behaloscha as well, when the Asafsuf pined for Bassar, which resulted in the Masseh of the Slav. In that case however, they were the Yotzei Mitzrayim, and they said “Zocharnu Es HaDaggah”, they recalled the fish they ate during the Shibud—they had a frame of reference to compare the Mon to. Those who were complaining now, however, were the next Dor, the ones who were to enter Eretz Yisroel. They were not among the Yotzei Mitzrayim, or were at least too young to remember it—they had been eating Mon for their entire lives, it was all they knew. This being the case, and sort of complaint could not have been based on actual Taivas Gashmi, as they had no familiarity with other types of food, but only a rejection of the Tovas Hashem.

The fact that they included Moshe Rabbeinu in their complaints sends a similar message as well. At first glance it would seem that this was not the first time they had done so. Earlier, at the time of the Meraglim, the Torah tells us that Bnei Yisroel complained to Moshe and Aron as well: “Vayilanu Al Moshe V’Al Aron.” The Sforno there explains, however, that they spoke to Moshe and Aron as Shluchei Hashem—they recognized that their ultimate complaint was with Hakadosh Baruch Hu, but they spoke to Moshe and Aron as His emissaries. In our Parsha though, as Rashi notes, this was not the case—they complained against Moshe himself as though he was equivalent to Hashem in some way. This too reveals their utter lack of appreciation.

If they had complained only about Hashem, while certainly wrong, there may have been some room for an element of Limud Zechus. It is understood that sometimes a person fails to see the Yad Hashem, and may be blind to the Hasgacha Pratis that ensures his security, as it takes a certain amount of Emunah to be attuned to these realities. When it comes to Moshe Rabbeinu, however, this is certainly not the case—he was their unwavering leader, and his self-sacrifice for their benefit should have been clear for all to see. By grouping their complaints agains Moshe and Hashem together, we see that they came only from a place of ingratitude.

If this is the case, then, that the Aveira for which they were being punished was Kefiras Tov, we may be better able to understand why the particular punishment and cure were warranted.

R’ Chaim Shmulevitz, in a few places throughout Sichos Mussar, explains the unbelievable power of Hakaras Hatov, and the destruction that can be brought about by this important Middah.

In Sefer Melachim we are told that both Eliyahu Hanavi and his Talmid, Elisha, performed Techias Hamesim. R’ Chaim notes that it cannot be coincidental that in both cases the boys they revived were sons of women who hosted them on their travels. Rather, because they felt such true and deep Hakaras HaTov for those who had benefitted them, they were able to access the Kochos needed to affect these Nissim. We see then that Hakaras HaTov, if properly felt and expressed can have an unbelievable effect on a person.

The opposite is true as well. There is a Mishna in Avos which asks two opposite questions: “Eizehu Derech Yeshara Sheyidbak Bo HaAdam: What is the proper path for one to cleave to?” and on the flipside “Ezehi Derech Ra’ah Sheyisrachek Mimena HaAdam: What negative path should one avoid?” The answers of given by variosu Tanaim to both questions are presented in the Mishna, and in most cases they reflect each other. R’ Eliezar, for example, lists Ayin Tova as the positive trait and Ayin Ra’ah as the negative. The exception is R’ Shimon who lists “HaRoeh Es Hanolad” as the positive trait, and “HaLoveh V’Aino Meshalem” as the negative one. These two do not seem at all connected: how does Ro’eh Es HaNolad, the ability to be to anticipate the future, relate to “HaLoveh V’Aino Meshalem”, one who borrows but does not pay back?

R’ Chaim explains that the two are indeed connected, because if one borrows money but does not pay it back, he displays a lack of Hakaras HaTov, which always has consequences. One can easily understand that if he gets a reputation as a credit risk he will no longer be able to borrow money, but he does not anticipate those repercussions if his is not a Ro’eh Es HaNolad. This is not just practical financial advice however, it is a message about Kefias Tov: if someone does not recognize when he benefits, he will no longer be a recipient. Just as Hakaras Hatov can affect a person, a lack of this Middah does as well. R’ Chaim brings a number of other sources that point to this reality: Kefias Tov always has direct repercussions.

Perhaps this is why the punishment the Yidden received was at the hands of the Nachash, the first being to do an Aveirah. As we learn Parshas Beraishis, the concept of cause and effect is in clear relief: the Nachash did an Aveirah, and he was swiftly and decisively punished. All snakes, for all eternity, suffer the results of their forbearer’s insolence.

This is why Rashi mentions the punishment of the snake, as that was part of the message to Klal Yisroel: upon exhibiting base Kefrias Tov, we had to be reminded that our actions have consequences, and in the case of this most abhorrent Middah, those consequences are direct and proximate, as the snakes punishment was in his time.

This was an especially important message for the generation that lived at that time, as they would be entering Eretz Yisroel but a short time later. The Torah is clear in telling us that an attitude of “Kochi V’Otzem Yadi” is antithetical to Yerushas HaAretz, thus further Kefias Tov could indeed have disastrous results. Once they settled in the land, and began to work their fields a propensity to ignore the Hashgachas Hashem, and assume that their successes were due to their own efforts and accomplishments, would indeed bring upon them dire consequences.

Maybe, though, it was for this reason that the cure for their punishment had to come from the Nachash itself, as the Da’as Zekenim pointed out, and why Moshe specifically made it from Nechoshes.

As we know, every Middah can be used for good or for bad, and this must be true of Kefias Tov as well. How though is this possible? How can a person use such a destructive Middah in beneficial matter?

By using a copper snake, Moshe wished to answer this very question. We know that there were two Mizbechos in the Mishkan, the Mizbeach HaZahav and the Mizbach HaNechoshes. Chazal explain that one Mizbeach was coated in Nechoshes to be Mechaper on the Middah of Azus Metzach, because the Passuk in Yeshaya refers to a stubborn nation with a forehead of copper. We see then that Nechoshes has a connection to a Middah of Azus Metzach. Kefias Tov has a similar root: if one is stubborn, and refuses to see the good that others do for him, he will certainly not be properly Makir Tov. But there is a way to use this type of attitude for good as well: if one is stubborn in his battle with the Yetzer Harah, and his avoidance of the Hevlei HaOlam, he can reach unimaginable heights. If he refuses to let the world he lives in affect his life and his outlook, he uses the the Middah of Azus Metzach for the ultimate good.

This then was the message of the Nechash Hanechoshes: yes, we had erred, a lack of Hakaras Hatov had led to severe consequence, as is always the case, but there was still hope. That same Middah that caused our Kefias Tov, the Azus Metzach that did not allow us to see the good that was being done for us, could be used for the ultimate good, allowing us to grow and attain greatness.

There are a great many messages to be taken from this episode. We can of course reflect on the need to be cognizant of all the good that is done for us by Hashem and our fellow man, and ensure that we properly acknowledge and recognize these Tovos. But perhaps the greater message is the one we are left with at the end of the story: “B’Nachash Hikkah, U’binachash Marpeh.” Sometimes that which we perceive to be our greatest weakness, the source of our foibles and failures, can be turned into our greatest strength. We must know that we can use our innate qualities for good, even those that may seem less than desirable—the very same snake that bit us could be our ultimate salvation.