Bamidbar, 9:19-20: “And when the Cloud lingered above the Tabernacle for many days, the Children of Israel would maintain the charge of Hashem and not travel. Sometimes, the cloud would be upon the Tabernacle for a number of days; according to the word of Hashem they would encamp and according to the word of Hashem they would journey.”

The Torah relates that the travel pattern of the Jewish people in was dependent upon the movement of the Cloud that accompanied them. There is a very interesting Ramban that elaborates on the nature of their journeys. The Ramban notes that it was not uncommon for the Jews to arrive at an absolutely undesirable place in the desert and they would have wanted to leave that place immediately, but they would need to stay because the Cloud stopped over the Tabernacle. In contrast, at other times, they arrived at a pleasant place, exhausted, and desired to stay for a long time, but often, after only two or three days in such places, the Cloud began to move and they had to continue on their travels.

The Ramban adds that sometimes they would come to a place and the Cloud would stop, and they would all unpack. Then, the next morning, after they finished unpacking all of their belongings, the Cloud would move and they would have to repack and start travelling all over again. This involved great effort as anyone who travels with a family for a vacation can testify. It emerges from the Ramban that these travels were very difficult and testing. The obvious question arises as - Hashem was clearly not causing these difficulties in order to inflict unnecessary discomfort to the people, so what was the benefit?

The simplest answer seems to be that God was teaching the people and all of us that a person may think he knows how to navigate his journeys in life but God will often have different plans, and we need to subjugate our plans to that of God. Sometimes we will ultimately realize why God directed us in that way but at times we may never realize in this World and yet we should still act with faith that God knows what is best for us.

However, Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler suggests a different approach that shows a more tangible benefit for these unpredictable travels. Rabbi Dessler¹, cited by Rabbi Yissachar Frand, explains that the time in the desert was the period during which the Jews received much of the Torah. Perhaps, God was trying to teach us a lesson that we must learn Torah and perform mitzvot in spite of any outside conditions.

Rabbi Frand elaborates on this idea:

“Many of us say, ‘If only we had a little more free time’ or ‘If only we did not have to worry so much about making a living…’, ‘If only we did not have to worry about our children’ — “Oh boy would we be able to sit and learn Torah and daven [pray] without rushing through!’ But life does not work like that. Life is always full of disturbances. We are not living in the Garden of Eden. There are financial problems. There are problems with parents, problems with children. There are always problems!”

Hillel in Ethics of the Fathers, succinctly expresses this idea: “And do not say, ‘when I have time I will learn, because perhaps you will not have time.”²

Great Torah scholars excelled in being absorbed in learning even in tumultuous times. The Mirrer Yeshiva spent the war years in distant Shangai, alone, and aware of the likelihood that their families had perished in Europe. They were under the control of a hostile Japanese Government with the threat of persecution hovering over them; the weather was unbearable – freezing in the winter, and unbearably humid in the summer. Yet the regular seder continued, and they wrote books and strived in their learning. The Mirrer Rosh Yeshiva, Rabbi Chaim Shmuelevitz attained unimaginable heights in learning through all external events. In highly uncomfortable conditions on the boat on the way to Eretz Yisrael, when the boat approached the holy land, someone asked, ‘Where are we’? Without blinking, Rav Shmuelevitz answered ‘Shmaasa gimmel’ referring to his location in the famous, in-depth work on the Talmud, Shev Shmaasah. He was solely focused on his spiritual location, blissfully unaware of his physical position.

In a similar vein, Rabbi Chaim Soloveitchik would often send his brilliant son, Rabbi Yitzchak Zev – later known as the Brisker Rav – on errands. When onlookers wondered why he always sent his son on such errands, instead of letting him learn in peace, he explained that he wanted to train his son to be able to learn even when superficially involved in non-Torah activities.

We recently experienced Shavuot – one of the lessons of Shavuot is that the Torah permeates all aspects of one’s life. The lessons above demonstrate that this applies to Torah learning perhaps to an even greater degree, since it is a constant obligation. May we merit to be able to learn Torah in all circumstances.

1. Michtav M’Eliyahu, Volume 4, pp.229-230.
2. Pirkei Avot, 2:4.