Parashat Beha'alotcha: Lighting Up the World with Our Inner Flame

Hello dear friends,

It’s already midday here, and I hadn’t intended to send a message today. But then I thought of those of you waiting in Chile, New York, Antwerp... and I realized I couldn’t let you down. You deserve something to nourish your neshama—some food for thought. So here it is.

As we read Parashat Beha’alotcha, one particular moment stands out: Aharon HaKohen watching the Nesi’im bring their beautiful offerings to inaugurate the Mishkan. He sees their excitement and generosity, and he feels… sad. He turns to Hashem, expressing a deep yearning to be a part of this special moment. And Hashem answers him with something powerful:

“Shelcha gedolah mishelahem” — Your contribution is even greater than theirs.

Why? Because Aharon lights the Menorah daily. But what does this mean on a deeper level?

The Power of Acting on Emotion

My father used to say that when a person feels something deeply—be it inspiration, love, or yearning—if they don’t express it through action, it fades away. It remains a feeling, but it doesn’t leave a lasting imprint.

The Nesi’im felt a need to give, so they gave. Aharon, who had already performed all the korbanot for the dedication of the Mizbeach, still longed to offer something personal. Something beyond obligation. That’s when Hashem reassured him: You give Me light every single day.

And, as the Ramban explains, this was not just any light. It was a remez—a hint—to the miracle of Chanukah, when Aharon’s descendants, the Chashmonaim, would light the Menorah once again. That light would defy nature, shine in the darkness, and declare Hashem’s presence to the world.

Lighting the Chandelier: A Story

There’s a beautiful story that illustrates this. A renowned African-American doctor once shared her humble beginnings. As a young girl, she worked as a cleaning lady. Inexperienced and unsure, she turned to an older woman for advice. The woman told her:

“When you go into the house, don’t start with the floors. Look for the chandelier. Clean it first. When the light shines, everything will look different.”

She followed the advice. Hours later, the owner came home and said, “The house is glowing! Who did this? Pay her double.” That one act—cleaning the light—changed everything.

Hashem says the same to us: “I am the One who created the sun and stars—I don’t need your light. But I desire it. Because when you light up the world around you, you transform everything.”

Each of Us Has a Flame

Lighting the Menorah wasn’t about Aharon standing there all day. It was about doing it right—waiting until shetehei ha’shalhevet oleh me’eileha, until the flame could rise on its own. That’s our mission too. Each of us has a light inside. And our job is to ignite it, to help it rise.

We light the world not just through mitzvot, but through empathy, through showing care to someone else, by being aware of others. And sometimes that begins with one small step—just like Aharon had to climb up to light the Menorah. We too must lift ourselves up, even when we’re in pain or struggling. That first little climb can be the spark that lights the world.

Following the Cloud with Bitachon

Later in the Parasha, we read about Bnei Yisrael’s travels in the desert. Every step they took was “al pi Hashem”—by Hashem’s command. The cloud would move, and they would go. It didn’t matter if they had just set up camp or were finally comfortable. Sometimes the cloud rested for a day; sometimes for a month.

Imagine the challenge. They unpacked everything—only to be told the next morning, "Pack up, we’re moving.” Or they arrived at a lush, beautiful oasis—and the cloud lifted after one night. Why?

This was spiritual training. Hashem was teaching them—and us—to trust, to follow even when it’s uncomfortable, even when it doesn’t make sense. Rav Hirsch says it’s not just bitachon (trust); it’s also submission. Hashem, I may not understand, but I accept Your will.

And that’s why Moshe Rabbeinu, every time they left a place, cried out, “Kumah Hashem!” Rise, Hashem! Even if the people were exhausted or frustrated, he reminded them: If Hashem is moving, we’re moving with Him.

The Danger of Complacency

But right after this beautiful moment of submission, things begin to unravel. Three tragic events unfold in succession:

1. The "Mit’onenim" — the complainers, who didn’t voice anything aloud, but carried dissatisfaction in their hearts.

2. The "Asafsuf" — who cried for meat and glorified the food of Mitzrayim.

3. And the worst? The emotional root of it all: how they left Har Sinai.

Rashi tells us they left “k’tinok ha’boreach mibeit hasefer”—like a child running away from school. They didn’t physically run—they had nowhere to go. But emotionally, they felt relief. “We’ve learned enough. We got the Torah. That’s it.”

They left not with longing, not with the desire to keep growing, but with a sense of “we’re done.” And that attitude was the beginning of their downfall.

Keep Longing for Growth

It’s not enough to receive the Torah—we must constantly long to deepen our connection. When we feel that we’ve learned enough or done enough, we’re like the student who thinks he’s ready to perform surgery just because he read a textbook. We have to keep learning, keep climbing, keep yearning.

Had Bnei Yisrael left Har Sinai with a sense of sadness, of wanting more, things might have turned out differently. But instead, they left like children running from school, and the spiritual momentum they had built up was lost.

So what does Parashat Beha’alotcha teach us?

Light your own flame. Don’t wait. And once it’s burning, let it rise on its own and light the world around you.

Lift yourself, even when it’s hard. Trust Hashem, even when the cloud lifts suddenly. Follow, even when you don’t understand.

And most of all—never stop longing to grow.

Because your light is needed. And Hashem is waiting for it.

Shabbat Shalom,Rebbetzin Chavi Golovenshitz

Behalotcha 2020