Can G-d Find You in a Desert? | Parshas Bamidbar

A rabbi was once seized with an irrational obsession with trying treif. God forbid. And uh he couldn't get it out of his mind. Finally, he decided, what's he going to do? He's going to go, book a ticket to a far-off, remote island. He's going to travel there where nobody knows who he is. And there, under the cloak of anonymity, for the first time in his life, he's going to try some pork. So, he flies there. He gets to the airport. From the airport, he takes the car to the resort. He comes to the resort. First thing he does, he goes to the restaurant in the lobby of the hotel. He sits down and he orders an entire roast pig. And he's sitting there and he's waiting for them to bring him his order. And as he's sitting there, all of a sudden, wouldn't you know it, one of his congregants, one of the balabattem from back home, sees him from across the lobby of the hotel. Just his luck, one of his guys is there at this little far-flung resort in the middle of nowhere on exactly that day, exactly at that time when he just ordered an entire roast pig. And the guy looks, HE SAYS, "RABBI! IMAGINE seeing you here. Small world when you're Jewish." He comes running over to him and he's schmoozing with him. And and the rabbi's so uh he's mortified. He he he he he he wishes he could dig a hole in the ground and jump in. And at that moment, the waiter appears with a whole platter, with a whole roast pig. You know, the whole thing with the the roast pig with the apple in its mouth. And he puts it down on the table in front of of the rabbi, the whole roast pig with the apple in its mouth. You have to envision it like that. Puts it down on the table. And thinking quickly, the rabbi looks. And he looks at his balab- balaboss and he says, "Oy vey! I ordered the fruit plate, and look how they serve it." So, speaking of being in a remote place, far, far away from community. This week's parsha is parshas Bamidbar, which literally means in the desert, in the wilderness. And parshas Bamidbar is always read before Shavuos. Sometimes Bamidbar and Nasso is read before Shavuos, but always at least Bamidbar is before Shavuos. In fact, it's brought as a matter of halacha, the Rambam brings in Mishneh Torah, and also in it's it's it's brought in Shulchan Aruch that Bamidbar has to be read before Shavuos. So, we have to say that on some level, there's some deeper conceptual connection between Bamidbar and Shavuos. We know is man matan Torah seinai, it's the season of our receiving the Torah. So, what would be the connection between receiving the Torah and Bamidbar, the wilderness? Well, simple connection we know is that we received the Torah in a midbar, in a wilderness, in the wilderness of Sinai. But then we can ask even further, okay, but then what's the specific underlying connection between wilderness and receiving Torah? In other words, I get it, Bamidbar is the wilderness, and it's always the Shabbos before, or at least a Shabbos before Shavuos, and Shavuos is receiving the Torah, and we received the Torah in a wilderness. Okay. That's the connection, that's true. But then now on a deeper level, what's the connection between receiving the Torah and being in a wilderness? That's our question. Why did we specifically receive Torah in a wilderness? Torah could have been you know, could have been sitting in our homes. And uh we could have been, you know, with four walls around us. Why do we have to be in the middle of a of a barren desolate wasteland? So I want to tell you a story. And this is a story which, you know, when I hear a good story, the first thing that I think is it's probably not true. And uh yeah, I'm cynical. Yeah. And so when I heard this story, I said I'm going to call the person that it supposedly happened to. And I called and it happened. It is verified. I heard it directly from the person that happened to to the rabbi that's in this story. Um whose name I will mention uh soon when he comes up. Okay. But I'm going to start the story like this. I'm going to start the story I'm going to go back to 1922. Philadelphia. A Jewish woman was born. A little baby Jewish girl named Selma Rosenberg. And she was raised there in the Jewish community in the Jewish neighborhood in Philadelphia in the '20s. And there she was surrounded by Jewish community and the rhythm and the pulse of Jewish involvement. And then she she married and she and her husband Paul they uh relocated to the suburbs of Philadelphia, north north of the city. And there she remained in the Jewish community. She was actually the president of her local chapter of Hadassah. And she and Paul were part of a congregation there. And that was her life for many many many decades. Then her husband passed away. And uh as she was approaching her 95th birthday, she found her new home was in an assisted living facility in remote Peru, Illinois, where her son had had moved with his family. Selma's son was living in Peru and uh he moved his mother, Selma, out to an assisted living facility there in Peru. Now, I want to tell you something. I'm from Chicago. I never heard of Peru before. I don't know what Peru is. But we we have a saying in Chicago. By the way, you can tell I'm from Chicago cuz they they say Chicago, not Chicago. I used to say roof, but my kids didn't understand me, so now I say roof, as well. At any rate, they we have a saying in Chicago. Just outside Chicago, there's a place called Illinois. Okay? It's like New Yorkers when they say, "I'm going upstate." Where? Rochester? Buffalo? No, it's Muncie. Muncie's upstate, right? Okay. Um so, just outside Chicago, there's a place called Illinois. So, I never heard of Peru, but Peru is one of these little Illinois towns in the middle of nowhere. Real a real mid buck. And Selma is there, approaching 95 years old, and she's the only Jewish person there in her in the assisted living facility. And uh she's surrounded by the cornfields. And a few months previous to the story I'm about to tell you, Selma just happened to mention on the phone with a friend that it had been a long time since she'd seen a rabbi. She's in Peru, Illinois. Do I know rabbis in Peru, Illinois? She's It's been a long time since she's even seen a rabbi. It'd be really, really meaningful to her if she would see a rabbi. So, the friend that Selma had spoken to called Selma's niece, Naomi. By By way, how do I have all these names and these details? First of all, like I told you, I verified with the rabbi happened to. Second of all, it was written up on chabad.org. And uh I can provide the link and you can all read the story. And uh exactly every detail exactly as it happened. So, the friend, Selma's friend, tells the niece, Naomi, "Your aunt Selma, she's saying it's been so long since she's she's seen a rabbi. She really, you know, she wishes she could see a rabbi." So, Naomi goes on chabad.org and she does what you should do. She puts in Peru, Illinois. She puts in the the the the the the zip code six whatever whatever. And what comes up? Closest uh shliach, closest Chabad house to Peru, he's 60 mi away. And uh who is it? It's Rabbi Telsner in Normal. What's Normal? What's Normal, Illinois, as opposed to Abnormal, Illinois, right? No. Normal actually they used to call teacher training institutes normal schools. I think it's a from a French word. They call normal. Uh so, Bloomington, Normal. There's a university there called the Illinois State University, not to be confused with the University of Illinois. But, it started there as a teachers training institute in Normal. And Normal's called Normal because the normal school used to mean for teaching teachers. I think it has to do with teaching uh standards of teaching, which is called like normal standards of teaching. And anyway, it's called Normal, Illinois. So, Chaim Telsner, he's the shliach there on campus with uh at at the Illinois State University and he's in Normal, Illinois. So, the niece calls up Rabbi Telsner and says, "I've got an aunt Selma who's 95 years old in Peru. You ever heard of Peru?" No, he hadn't heard of Peru. So, Rabbi Telsner gets the number for Selma's room at the assisted living facility and he calls her. Cuz he figures before I'm going to drive an hour on the inter- on the interstate and and on the chance that maybe she'll be there or you know or maybe I'm obviously she'll be there but maybe she won't be available, she can't see me. So, I'm going to I'm going to call first. So, he from the time he got the number, he was calling, you know, like every every other day or so for a couple of weeks. And he never got through to her. Finally, it was one out of Shabbos. Okay, you know what out of Shabbos is in a Jewish home, especially a Chabad house, especially a Chabad house on campus. So, Chaim tells his wife Rochel, he says, you know, there's this 95-year-old lady an hour from here. We're the closest Chabad. I know it's out of Shabbos, but I just I I got to go to her. I got to go check it out. And I I I keep calling and I'm not getting through. I'm just going to go check it out. So, his wife Rochel, the real Eishes Chayil the Shlucha that she is, she says, I just baked fresh challah, take fresh challah, and bring them to this woman. And uh fahr gezunter heiten, travel safely, and be back in time for Shabbos. So, Chaim goes with the freshly baked challah, and he goes an hour out on the interstate, and he gets to the assisted living facility, and he walks in the lobby, and a woman turns and sees him from across the room. It's Selma. There's no question, this is who it is. It's Selma. And she starts to gush with enthusiasm. I can't believe it. It's been so LONG SINCE I'VE SEEN a rabbi. And Rabbi Telsner sat down with her, and they talked and they schmoozed and they reminisced about all the different Jewish connections, the Jewish geography, and her growing up in Philadelphia and the old Jewish neighborhood back in the day, and about her children and her grandchildren. And he gave her the challah, she clutched that challah with such joy. And then, he gave her another gift. He gave her the battery-operated tea light, the little electronic tea light cuz, you know, can't like you can't have the flame uh in in the assisted living facility. But it's Shabbos candles, Friday afternoon Shabbos. So he came with the little electronic tea light and the moment he handed it to her as if just by some force she just started to say the the the blessing on all the memories came flooding back to her and she was just beaming. She was so happy and and she says, "Rabbi, this is amazing. You don't realize what you've done for me." And of course he felt that his connection with Selma had done something for him as well. You know, the what what what does a shliach live for other than a connection like this? So he says to her, he says, "Listen, it's Shabbos it's erev Shabbos, Friday. I'm an hour away from home. I got to go. I got to get back home. We got students coming tonight. We're on the campus in in in Illinois State. Uh but I'll tell you what. Would you like to meet my children? She says, "Oh, Rabbi, of course I would like to meet your children. Beautiful cute little Jewish children, of course I would like to see your children." He says, "So next erev Shabbos, I'm going to bring my children. I'm going to come back next Friday and I'll bring the children." Ah, delicious kindelach. Ah, beautiful. Okay, next erev Shabbos. Rabbi, thank you so much. Okay. So um he went he went home and obviously made it home for Shabbos and um that evening Selma was on the phone with her son. I hear you say Friday night she was on the phone with her son. Yes, Friday night she was she was not Shabbos observant. She was on the phone with her son. And she starts to talk to him about the rabbi who came and visited me. Now you have to understand something. A 95-year-old woman who who's in Peru, Illinois who starts talking about the rabbi who suddenly appeared at the assisted living facility and talked to me for an hour. Um with all due respect, he he he he he assumed that it was some type of a hallucination, that some he he there's no rabbi anywhere near Peru, Illinois. And and and not not one who just suddenly shows up. So, he was worried about her. The next day uh Selma's daughter-in-law came and visited her at the assisted living facility and uh she had heard, you know, her husband had told her that my mom is sort of talking weird things and you know, maybe just check out, make sure that she's lucid. And uh they were sitting and talking and and and Selma started talk about the rabbi again. The rabbi visited me, the rabbi. And you know, obviously the daughter-in-law was concerned about that. Then she says, "He he visited me and look what he brought me." And she brought out the leftover challah and the tea light. And she held them with such pride. She says, "Look what the rabbi brought me." And then her daughter-in-law knew it wasn't a dream. I mean, if it was a hallucination, then she's having it, too. She saw, here's the leftover challah, here's the tea light. Something happened. They realized that she'd been visited by a real rabbi and she says, "And yes, and he's going to come next Friday before Shabbos to visit me as well." I want to tell you that that night Saturday night, the night after Shabbos Selma passed away peacefully in her sleep. And her last Shabbos, her last day in this world she was able to welcome that Shabbos with challah and with the Shabbos candles. So, why was Torah given in a desert? Why was Torah given in a barren wasteland, in the middle of nowhere? I'll tell you why. The Lubavitcher Rebbe says, when Hashem gave the Torah in 2448 since creation, he knew there would come a time one day when a Jew might be in a spiritual desert, in a place utterly devoid of Jewishness. And it would seem to us that a Jew in such a situation, in such a desert, is beyond reach, beyond hope. And there's no way to draw them back, no way to connect them back. Yet, we need to know that when Torah was given the first time, it was given precisely where? In a desert. So, when we see a Jew, whenever we see a Jew in a desert who seems so far away, so lost, so removed from a community, so removed from from from the from Torah institutions and from we need to see this, and we need to be like the students of Aaron, loving the creatures and drawing them close to Torah. Just as it was the very first time Hashem gave his Torah to the Jewish people in the middle of an empty wasteland, a wilderness, a desert, so too, every single Jew, at every single time, in every single situation, even when he or she is in a place that seems totally inhospitable to Judaism and inhospitable to Torah, a place that's so removed, they can be reached in that place. And when we go out of our way to reach out to the Jew who's in a spiritual desert, neither connected neither measure for measure, Hashem finds us in whatever desert we may be in. Each one of us knows, relatively speaking, where we could be, the level that we could be at, and that relative to what we could be doing right now, we are in a little bit of a desert. But when we find a Jew in a desert and connect them BACK TO JUDAISM, HASHEM COMES AND FINDS US IN WHATEVER DESERT we may be in and gives us the Torah in that place. And therefore, the greatest preparation for Shavuot and for the receiving of the Torah anew each year is Parshas Bamidbar, the Torah portion whose very name and title means in the desert. May Hashem come and find us, each one of us, every Jew, wherever they are, in whatever situation they be may be in, and give us the Torah again.