It’s summertime. And, it’s camping season. I, like many others, am looking forward to spending more time traveling and outdoors this summer. Hiking, fishing, rafting and camping are all great ways to enjoy the gifts that G-d has given us. Especially, when it’s together with family and friends.
Celebrating life occasions and seeing family are great perks of travel.
As much as I enjoy traveling and delight in the outdoors, I invariably find myself repeating an old Yiddish saying when I walk through the doors of my home upon return. “Es iz gut tzu gayen, uber es iz besser ahaim tzu kumen.” This proverb translates, “It’s good to travel, but it’s better to come home.”
Especially, when I haven’t had a proper roof over my head or running water.
Tents are fun for the moment, but I’m not sure I could handle living in one regularly.
The permanence of a home is not merely due to its strength to withstand the elements. It’s also about the consistency of its existence. Tents are meant to be disassembled just as quickly as they are pitched. They are not meant to last forever.
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“How goodly are your tents, O Jacob, your dwelling places, O Israel!
This verse – part of Bilaam’s blessing of the Jewish people – appears not only in this week’s parsha, Balak, but also at the beginning of our daily morning prayers.
Why does Bilaam mention both tents and dwelling places? Isn’t it redundant?
Rabbi Yisroel Baal Shem Tov, founder of Chassidism, explains that tents and dwelling places are not only two different abodes for the body. They also represent two unique habitats for the soul.
A house, the permanent dwelling, represents a soul that is constantly “in the zone.” People who dwell in spiritual homes are always helping others, consistently selfless, and continuously deepening their bond with the Almighty through prayer, Torah study and mitzvot. Their soul is secure because they have built a sacred residence for it.
Then there are people who live in tents. They are too consumed with earning a living, climbing the social ladder, and nurturing their bodies to be breathing G-d consciousness 24/7. The burdens of everyday life and the lusts of the material body take center stage.
But even such people search for G-d in their daily routine. These individuals produce snippets of sanctity every day. They take a break for a few moments to wrap tefillin. They ignite the week with holiness by kindling Shabbat candles. They illuminate their day with a Torah class. And they bring a smile to a lonely person when they pay a visit.
This Jew may not create a fixed and permanent dwelling for G-d. But she does erect a tent, where she and her Creator spend a few moments together.
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We may be tempted to believe that it is the dwellings of Israel which are embraced by G-d. Jacob’s tents are at best tolerable, but not desirable. But the Torah emphasizes that both are important. In fact the tents are mentioned first.
When a Jew stops what he or she is doing and focuses on the Divine; when he tears himself apart from the all-encompassing task of earning a living to pray; when she cuts back on buying a dress in order to give charity; when he invites someone else to the meal he is enjoying; when she stops to say a blessing over her food – in all these instances the brute force of physicality has come in direct conflict with the Divine will. And it is the sacred that has prevailed. It might be only momentary. But it has transformed the human condition and consecrated the very material world we live in.
G-d declares that it is not only the dwellings – the heavenly existence – that He appreciates. He craves the liberation of elevating our mundane life and bringing heaven down to earth. The home may be loftier, but it is the tent that reaches deeper.
Whether you are a tent occupant, a house dweller – or a mix of both, remember that you have ample opportunities to make this world a true home for G-d.