Bamidbar: The Joy of the Wilderness

Oh, to be in the wilderness, at an encampment of wayfarers!

—Jeremiah 9:1

The Strong Man and the Crumbling Town

  

There was once a man of extraordinary strength. The kind of man who could walk into a city, stretch out his arms, and the whole place would tremble.

He would visit cities with towering walls and mighty defenses, where the local mayor, puffed up with civic pride, would invite him to showcase his strength. The strong man would stand beside a great wall, lean on it, and—boom—it would come crashing down. Then, he’d take a deep breath and huff, blowing out every window in sight.

The residents, jaws dropped, would gape at him in awe, whispering, “Who is this mighty titan?”

One day, the strong man wandered into a small, rundown village. The homes were little more than a haphazard collection of sagging shacks, their foundations sinking into the earth like forgotten memories. The people, weary and poor, had long given up trying to repair them. They were too busy scraping together a livelihood to attend to their crumbling walls.

Seeing their plight, the strong man decided to help. With a grunt, he hoisted the houses onto his shoulders, one by one, setting them upright on solid ground.

The villagers, amazed by his strength, gathered around in astonishment. But unlike the wealthy citizens of the big city, who’d scowled at his wrecking-ball antics, the poor villagers cheered. “Not only has he shown us his strength,” they said, “but he’s fixed our homes!” They weren’t just in awe, they were genuinely grateful.

The Joy of the Wilderness

The Midrash tells us that God longs for the special relationship He had with His people in the wilderness. “If only I were in the wilderness!” God says. “Now, where are all of those miracles that I performed for you?”

The Midrash compares this to a prince who visited several towns. In the first two, the townspeople fled in fear; but in the third, they greeted him warmly, singing his praises. The prince, pleased, declared, “This is the best town. Here, I will build my palace and make my home.”

So too, God approached the sea, and the waters fled before Him. Similarly, the mountains “skipped like deer” (Psalms 114:3). But when God reached the wilderness, it welcomed Him. “Here,” God declared, “I will build My palace—the Tabernacle—and here I will dwell.”

Now, you might ask: What was so special about the wilderness? Why did it deserve to host the Tabernacle?

From Desolation to Divine Providence

When God arrived in Egypt, a land of immense wealth and grandeur, He brought devastation, striking it with ten plagues. The Red Sea also became a place of retribution and upheaval.

God, of course, takes no pleasure in destroying His world. When the angels wanted to sing as the Egyptians drowned, God rebuked them: “How can you sing,” He said, “when My creations are perishing in the sea?”

But when God led the Israelites into the barren wilderness of Sinai, something extraordinary happened.

The desert—empty, dry, lifeless—began to bloom. Manna fell from the sky to feed the hungry. Fresh water flowed from Miriam’s well. The clouds of God’s glory shielded the people from the scorching sun, drove away snakes and scorpions, and straightened the path before the traveling nation.

The Israelites, once slaves in a land of affliction, now found themselves free in a place of Divine providence.

Much like the run-down village in the story, the wilderness was transformed. No longer a place of desolation, it became a sanctuary of life and sustenance. The wilderness itself rejoiced. “The wilderness and the wasteland will rejoice over them; the desert will jubilate and blossom like a rose” (Isaiah 35:1).

(The Wit and Wisdom of the Dubno Maggid. Adapted from Mishlei Yaakov, pp. 309-310)