Parshat Matot-Massei – August 2, 2024 / 27 Tammuz, 5784

The year is 2004. I am sitting in my crowded dorm room in the Back Bay of Boston. A single room shared by four people; three music theater majors, and a viola major crowded together. “Mom, I am leaving Boston, I have to move to New York City to go to acting school.” Next, “Mom, I am leaving acting school.” Next, “Mom, I think I want to study philosophy.” “Mom, I am moving to Los Angeles.” “Mom, I’m driving back across the country.” Mom…My poor mother (and this list was edited for brevity’s sake). I cannot help but read the second parsha of this week’s double portion, Matot-Masei, and think of her. Parsha Masei- meaning “journeys.” When I was 17 and left home for Boston, I certainly did not expect so many stops. I now know that these were leading me to my calling, to my own personal promised land, if you will. Being in the position I am in today, and serving the congregation I am privileged to serve, is my milk and honey. Before that, I was searching…not just physically, but also spiritually. Now, the search continues, but in a setting and context that doesn’t have me keeping my poor mother up nights.

This week’s Torah portion names each of the 42 stops that the Children of Israel take from the moment of Exodus in Egypt to the plains of Moab, right across the Jordan River from the Promised land of Canaan. Israel Baal Shem Tov, the founder of Hasidic Judaism claims that naming all of the stops in the Torah is important, largely because we take 42 spiritual journeys in our own lives. He claims that birth is our initial stop, akin to the Exodus, and our Promised Land is the World To Come–Olam Haba. One of the more Kabbalist pieces of our liturgy is entitled Ana B’Koach (we beg you, or please), which is said to form the name of God using the initial letter of each word. This comes to a 42-letter name. 42 letters to name God. 42 stops. Coincidence? Never. The first line itself reads: אָנָּא, בְּכֹחַ, גְּדֻלַּת יְמִינְךָ, תַּתִּיר צְרוּרָה– “Please, with the strength and greatness of your right arm, Untangle our knotted fate.” We hope to untangle our knotted fate by facing each moment as novel and achievable. German born French Rabbi Eli Munk once spoke about the wanderings of the Jewish people. He wrote, “Which Jew has not experienced many wanderings? But whatever the disappointments already encountered, we must always go forward. Future redemption for each individual, as for the nation, beckons us to rise to the next challenge.”

As I have mentioned before, a journey to the Promised Land that could have technically taken 11 days lasted 40 arduous years. Does this seem like a waste of time? I do know that there are likely some of you reading this today who feel that their lives did take a more direct path. Some people go through high school. They proceed to four years of college, to medical school, or a specific masters program, residency etc., or a similar and seemingly linear path. Even if we ostensibly stay on a direct course, do we not take personal journeys, rife with stops and starts all the time? All of our journeys might look different, but they are all just that…masei–journeys.
As I imagine all of you reading this today, I think of the first two lines of the portion, “Eileh Masei–These are the journeys.” Each one of us brings a unique life experience to the moment, but we, as a Jewish people, always have the shared experience of our journey as a people. Even as we celebrate Shabbat weekly, we bring with us to the sanctuary, to the livestream, to this moment of pause, our singular weekly experiences. We combine these experiences with our collective prayers, songs and energies to create a moment like no other–a space like no other–a prayerful energy like no other.

Eileh Masei! These are the journeys! A reminder that even during difficult times, through stops and starts, that God is always there. Even if God feels hidden, things can change. We do not always know exactly what direction we are going in, or perhaps we feel as if we do, and then life changes our plans. If we continue to journey together toward the promised lands of our lives, the trip, with all of its peaks and valleys can be more tolerable, or if we allow it, even enjoyable and full. May we all be blessed to be cities of refuge for one another as we traverse life’s territory. Again, my poor mother might have gone through some sleepless nights as I kept her apprised of my wanderings. While I did not make 42 stops exactly, I certainly needed more than 11 days. Let’s keep going. And…sorry mom.
Shabbat Shalom.

– Rabbi Josh Gray