Raise Up Torah

Reflections on Parashat Behaalotecha

“Speak to Aaron and say to him: When you raise up the lamps, toward the face of the Menorah shall the seven lamps cast light.” - Numbers 8:2

At the heart of Parashat Behaalotecha, a seemingly simple instruction opens a portal to profound spiritual meaning. Rashi, draws from the nuance of Torah language, and notes that the verb beha’alotecha—literally, “when you cause to ascend”—reveals that Aaron was to hold the flame to the wick until it burned on its own. This was an act of elevation: the sacred task of helping the flame become self sustaining.

The Sfat Emet writes that the soul contains a hidden light, and the role of a righteous teacher is to draw out that light until it shines freely. The menorah, then, becomes a symbol of spiritual readiness. This act sets the tone for a much larger story in this parasha: a people preparing not just to move across the desert, but to grow into bearers of divine light in the world.

As the people prepare for their journey, a group of Israelites—impure due to contact with the dead—approach Moses and Aaron. Barred from offering the Passover sacrifice, they ask, “Why should we be diminished by not offering the Lord’s offering at its appointed time?”  - Numbers 9:7

Their heartfelt question gives birth to Pesach Sheni, a second opportunity to celebrate Passover. No one is cast off from the covenant because of circumstance. God's answer reveals his divine compassion. And the language of the petitioners language—“diminished”—appears again in the parasha, when Moses’ prophetic spirit is shared among seventy elders (Numbers 11).

Rashi tells us that Moses is not diminished by the act. Just as one flame can kindle many without being reduced, so too does the spirit of Torah grow stronger through sharing.

Later, the divine presence unfolds with precision as the cloud over the Mishkan lifts; the silver trumpets sound; the Ark travels ahead. The movement is not random, but rooted in presence, guided by revelation. And Torah itself is the guide. Not only the Ark that leads them, but the spiritual path it represents. The nation of Israel is learning to walk, led by the light of Torah.

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path,” 

                                                       - Psalms 119:105

No sooner do they begin to move than complaints erupt. First vague dissatisfaction, then longing for Egypt's delicacies—the garlic, leeks, melons. Beneath the surface lies a deeper yearning: the desire to retreat from the responsibilities of freedom.

The manna, a miraculous daily provision, is rejected—along with the spiritual discipline it represents. The people crave predictability, even slavery, over the uncertainty of transformation.

Moses is overwhelmed.

God instructs him to delegate. Seventy elders are chosen, and the spirit that rests on Moses descends upon the seventy. Yet, Rashi reminds us again: God’s light is not diminished. True leadership inspires rather than diminishes. Still, the message is clear. Structure alone does not create maturity. Even a nation camped around the Tabernacle, guided by clouds, needs inner resilience.

In this Torah portion’s final verses, Miriam and Aaron speak critically of Moses, invoking his relationship with his wife. Whether out of jealousy, concern, or confusion over his unique prophetic status, their words carry the echo of slander:

“Has the Lord spoken only through Moses? Has He not spoken through us as well?” - - Numbers 12:2

God calls them forth. Miriam is stricken with tzara’at, a physical manifestation of spiritual damage—what the sages associate with lashon hara, evil speech. Their complaint is rooted in a simple misunderstanding of Moses’ unique prophetic role. They believed their own prophecy was on par with his.

But Aaron is not punished.

Rashi explains that Aaron was spared because it was Miriam who initiated the conversation. She had heard from Tzipporah that Moses had separated from her after the revelation at Sinai. Miriam shared her concern with Aaron. She reasoned: “We’re also prophets, yet we’ve not separated from our spouses.”

She misunderstood that Moses was uniquely required to abstain from his wife in order to maintain access to prophecy, which God later confirms.

From the commentaries we discover that it was Aaron's immediate repentance that resulted in the judgement against him being mitigated. The Ramban adds that Mirriam and Aaron had failed to appreciate the higher level of Moses' prophecy (which God explains in verses 6–8, saying Moses speaks “mouth to mouth” with God).

Perhaps the tza'arat was meant to be a visible warning that those entrusted with Torah must guard not only their actions but their words. Light, when mishandled, casts shadows. And yet, Moses prays—not with rebuke, but with tenderness:

"Please, God, heal her.” - Numbers12:13

This is what it means to carry Torah: to elevate even those who falter. To pray when others speak ill. To heal where one could condemn.

From all these seemingly random events in the Torah parasha, we can discern a message as fresh and relevant as current headlines.

Today, as in the wilderness, the people of Israel face daily onslaughts, attempting to diminish and delegitimize their presence, their heritage, and the sacred trust they carry. Lies abound—distortions meant to darken the light of Torah, to snuff out the flame passed from generation to generation. But the light still burns brightly.

More than than ever, all of us who cherish the blessed reality of Torah have a role in protecting and raising its light.

How? It's not that difficult.

When confronted by those who question the value of Torah—who doubts its wisdom or its relevance—share the spark that drew you in.

Was it the depth of its justice system, centuries ahead of Greece or Rome?

Was it the archaeological record that affirms its history?

The dietary laws that reflect startling insight into health?

The poetic force of its values that amplify human dignity?

Or its startling actualization of its prophecies?

Find the ember that moved you. Then lift it up.

Hold it long enough until it burns on its own.