Wandering, Vows & Refuge: What the Torah Teaches Us About Healing | Zvi Gluck

Hi, it's Glock and I'm on the New York 17 heading upstate Shabas for parashi and I wanted to share a thought with you. There are a few things in this para that seemingly don't belong together. It starts off with the 42 steps that the ben is made in the midbar some longer some shorter then it talks about midarim and then it goes into building the arik the cities of refuge. What are these in common? One is about wandering. One is about speech and personal commitment. And the last one is about seeking protection after a tragedy. This be a coincidence that it's in the double para? Of course not. We know that the Torah is not a history book. It's not a story book. It's a mirror. It's a guide. It's a guide to teach us how we need to live now. So the question is, why does the Torah replace these three themes together? And what are they teaching us about supporting those who have experienced trauma, abuse, addiction, and those with mental health issues? Those 42 journeys, those stop. Some of them are longer, some of them are shorter. But the message is clear for anyone who's going through the path of healing. It's not always a straight path. It is a series of steps. Some forward, some backward, moments of wondering, moments of hope, and unfortunately, sometimes moments of relapse. Just like the Torah reports, each stop with care, we're reminded that every step in someone's journey towards healing is holy, even the parts that don't look like progress. I'll never forget many, many years ago when we first started, there was a fellow that came to us. He was a young guy, his teens. He had almost overdosed three times. He was in and out of multiple rehabs and he basically was done. He said to us, "My family doesn't believe in me. They have no faith in me. I have no friends. What am I supposed to do?" But this time something changed that wasn't miraculous and it wasn't quick. It was a slow process, but he began to trust in himself to work on himself. Today, years later, he is baram sober, married with kids, and he still calls us once in a while when he's having a tough day. And we remind him that your process didn't start with perfection. It's not ending with perfection. It's the steps that count. Let's talk about it. It opens up by saying the person who makes a vow to Hashem shall not violate his word. There are so many people out there that are carrying invisible vows in them. I'll never trust again. I'll always be broken. This was all my fault. These are not things that they're saying aloud, but they're so powerful. trapping them with shame, with fear, and in silence. You know, unfortunately, this happens all too often, but one specific story comes to mind. There was a teenage girl that was being abused for years by a very close family friend and never said anything. She had made a silent vow to carry the pain to protect her family, protect those around her. Well, that vow nearly destroyed her life. Thankfully through therapy, through support and through time, she feels safe again and she's addressing it. When the Torah talks about the process of daring, it requires other people. One cannot do it alone. So does healing. No one can undo their inner vows alone. Someone needs to be there to say you are believed. You are worthy. You are not alone anymore. Finally, it takes us to the arik. We're introduced to the cities of refuge and somebody by accident kills another person goes to a place that's protected, accessible, and not we have a story. It's a story. This probably happens more often than you think, but again, I'm trying to stick to specifics where a father called us up saying, "I don't have anywhere to go. My son has tried to kill himself a few times in and out of rehab. Everybody we go to is telling us to dive in harder, say more to him. We're lost." What this family needed at this point was advice. They needed a refuge. They needed a space where the pain would be held without judgment. A place that says, "You're not crazy. You're not bad. You're just hurting and we're here for you." Of course they need to den of course they need to continue to fill. But they needed that refuge. Shall we ask ourselves today? Are our shoes, schools, communities, homes, are they an arikat or are we building walls of shame and of secrecy? What are we doing? What is connecting these three things? What I think it is as simple. The one who's wandering in the desert, the one who's bound by fear and shame, the one who's fleeing and looking for safety, the Torah dignifies all of them. They're all in pain. So was me. We must do the same. We need to stop asking why haven't they healed yet? Is it their fault? Are they saying the truth? What we need to say instead is let me be there with you. Let me walk with you. Let me be your refuge. In closing, what I ask is as follows. This para is not about just the bene Israel that we're in part. It's about us. our responsibility to recognize people's journeys to help them release their inner vows to become safe spaces emotionally, spiritually, and communally. Let us be the ones who stay, who listen, who hold the burden for someone else, even for just one stop on the journey. We should be that step. May we be zoka to build a world where healing is possible, pain no longer has to be hidden, and no one has to walk through the wilderness alone. Thank you very much and have a great sh