Bein Hashmashot, or between the suns, is Hebrew for twilight, the thin layer of light between night and day. On a recent “For Heaven’s Sake” podcast, the host Doniel Hartman declared the entire State of Israel to be caught in this stressful, undefined time. With wars raging on several fronts, and the government’s political future in doubt, Hartman called this the “most disconcerting experience Israelis have experienced in decades.” He went on to say that “we thought we had overcome October 7th. We thought we had defeated that sense of helplessness. They fought in a seven front war. We have fought Israel’s longest war. And after all of this, and after all the extraordinary victories… we’re still left in October 7th.”
Another name for twilight in Hebrew is Bamidbar, wilderness. This is the place we find ourselves this week in Beha’alotcha, and as in twilight, it is defined by uncertainty. The seasons, weather, and even the sun is absent during almost the entirety of the fourth book of Torah. That is what makes the description of Miriam’s skin after she is struck with leprosy so striking. Ka-sheleg, like snow, is how it is described. Weather has suddenly moved from the outside world into the inside one. While commonplace in Western New York, the flight fluffy stuff would have been completely absent from the Sinai Peninsula, and yet, here it was on Miriam’s face. Thus, the healing that Moses later brings with his prayer, Ana El Na Refa Na La, “Please God Heal Her,” is not just of a physical variety, but of a spiritual one as well. As beautiful as twilight and wilderness can be, they are places that are hard to stay in for an extended amount of time. In this time of uncertainty may we find clarity, a pathway from day to night and back again. May it be so!
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Alex